I knew a man who didn’t like to cuddle.
In fact, he didn’t like to be touched. If we were walking together down the street and I brushed up against him he would literally recoil. He had an energy field around him that emitted a “don’t touch me” warning sign, and guess what, he didn’t cuddle, and he wasn’t all that great to have sex with either.
Too bad. He was really missing out.
To me, cuddling is so much more than mere cuddling. To me it is the body language of lovers that says “touch me; I’m yours,” or, “my heart misses you, and my arms miss you too,” or “let me cuddle you tonight—and make love to you in the morning.”
To me, cuddling is what everybody is talking about when they talk about “foreplay.” In fact, I think cuddling makes foreplay—as a distinct and separate stage of lovemaking—entirely unnecessary.
With cuddling, one is always in a state of foreplay.
Here is a poem I wrote about two cuddly-cuddling lovers that says it all:
He Leaves His Lips There
She turns on her side and curls up her legs
as he slides up behind her,
his thighs thick and cool against the warmth of hers.
He puts his arm around her waist and pulls her home,
Pressing his belly and his chest,
up against her curves and her softness
she urges herself back against him,
the crook of his body a perfect fit for her searching hips.
He slides his hand between her breasts
and she puts her hand over his
He kisses her on the back of her neck
She kisses the fingers of his hand.
My baby, he murmurs, My baby
And leaves his hot mouth
enough for her to feel it there
when she wakes.
Author: Carmelene Siani
Editor: Toby Israel
Photo: Amy Wilbanks/Flickr