I have been thinking for a long time how to formulate this without it sounding like a guide you read in the waiting room at the urologist. And the more I think about it, the clearer it becomes to me: good sex is not a technique, a script, an Olympic cure with points for endurance, variation or volume.
Not the one with the seven positions in thirty minutes. Not the one with the perfect light, well trained camera perspective and flawless orgasm at the push of a button. Not the one you think: Was very nice... , but you're still empty inside.
Good sex is the one where you suddenly stop - and think: What was that? Who am I to be touched like this?
Good sex is communication – with skin, heart and everything in between.
It's that moment when words are not needed. Your body says more than your mouth ever could. Where a groan becomes a language. Where a twitch, a breath, a quiet glance reveals more confidence than any therapy session.
Good sex is not a program. Not a tick-off item on a to-do list of modern relationships. It's a conversation that doesn't start with words but with presence. With a real "I'm here". Without a mask. Unscripted. Without that eternal inner voice asking, am I doing it right? Is this enough? Am I enough ?
I remember nights when we didn't know where my body would stop and start. There was no concept, no plan. Just a reaction. Her reaction to my hesitation. My reaction to her trembling. And at some point we stopped thinking. And just like that... felt.
I remember a moment with a woman I had a connection with that one cannot plan. We barely talk. But my hand rested on her belly, and in the silence between two breaths, suddenly everything was said. Her eyes said yes before her lips did. It was like our skin spoke a language our mouths never learned.
Sometimes it's like jazz. You don't have grades, but everything is correct. Sometimes like two sweaters in the dryer – all twisted, all wet, all messed up, but somehow just right. And sometimes you laugh in the middle of the peak because it's just so beautifully absurd that two people can get lost in such a way - in a kiss, in a glance, in a movement.
Sex is not a performance sport.
It's not about how many orgasms, how wild, or how long. It’s all about who you are with. Whether you are real. Do you dare to make the noise you otherwise suppress. Whether you notice their reactions as you slow down – or faster. And if you’re not speeding up just because your head thinks “something needs to happen now” but because you feel that’s exactly what is needed now.
Sometimes its like dancing in the dark. You don't see anything, but you feel everything. And when you stop thinking and start listening - to their breathing, their tremors, the small, almost inaudible "mhms" - then magic happens. No hocus pocus, just real connection. And its hotter than any pornhub clip.
And you know what I learned? Good sex starts long before you get naked.
He starts with a glance that lasts a little too long. Having a conversation that suddenly goes deeper than thought. In a sentence like "I feel like I can tell you everything." “Or with a nervous laugh because you both realize: There’s something.
When at work you can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at you last night — that’s good sex. When you look forward to a glass of water, a smile, a “come here” all day — that’s great sex. And if you’re lying there sometime, sweaty, giggling, totally dissolved - because you feel noodled, seen and loved at the same time - then it wasn't just good sex. Then it was soul touching.
Good sex occurs, especially when there is no sex. In that which lasts. In the aftertaste. Looking forward to it. In a desire that does not immediately stop, but grows. Where your body says more of this. But not just physically. More of YOU.
And yes - it's related to safety too. With a nervous system that's not on alert. With an inner child that's not on escape mode. With a yes that comes not only out of courtesy, but out of a deep desire to encounter. On being touched. To fall.
I experienced sex that was more than pleasure. The One Who Was Like Trance. Like a different state of mind. Pulsating, penetrating – not only between the legs, but up to the brain. Where you suddenly feel everything softens. Time is stretching. The space is disappearing. And there's only you two.
And then there are those sex moments that change you.
Where you don't get up after the climax, but become silent. Might even cry - of joy. Because you feel seen. Because you suddenly realize how deep closeness can go. Because you lie there, touch, hug, open - and your whole body says: Thank you.
I think: good sex is when you stop working.
When you get out of the head, into the body. When you dare to feel everything - lust, vulnerability, devotion. When you don’t think about how you look - but that you are there. For real. Without a mask. No pressure.
And yes, that takes faith. A safe space. A person your nervous system can say, "I'm safe." "Then, and only then, it really starts. Then sex becomes not just movement – but encounter.
If you've never experienced this - no stress. We're not talking Hollywood love scenes or tantric superpowers here. But from real people. With real bodies. And a real longing for connection.
- Joe Turan
Good sex is the one where you suddenly stop - and think: What was that? Who am I to be touched like this?
Good sex is communication – with skin, heart and everything in between.
It's that moment when words are not needed. Your body says more than your mouth ever could. Where a groan becomes a language. Where a twitch, a breath, a quiet glance reveals more confidence than any therapy session.
Good sex is not a program. Not a tick-off item on a to-do list of modern relationships. It's a conversation that doesn't start with words but with presence. With a real "I'm here". Without a mask. Unscripted. Without that eternal inner voice asking, am I doing it right? Is this enough? Am I enough ?
I remember nights when we didn't know where my body would stop and start. There was no concept, no plan. Just a reaction. Her reaction to my hesitation. My reaction to her trembling. And at some point we stopped thinking. And just like that... felt.
I remember a moment with a woman I had a connection with that one cannot plan. We barely talk. But my hand rested on her belly, and in the silence between two breaths, suddenly everything was said. Her eyes said yes before her lips did. It was like our skin spoke a language our mouths never learned.
Sometimes it's like jazz. You don't have grades, but everything is correct. Sometimes like two sweaters in the dryer – all twisted, all wet, all messed up, but somehow just right. And sometimes you laugh in the middle of the peak because it's just so beautifully absurd that two people can get lost in such a way - in a kiss, in a glance, in a movement.
Sex is not a performance sport.
It's not about how many orgasms, how wild, or how long. It’s all about who you are with. Whether you are real. Do you dare to make the noise you otherwise suppress. Whether you notice their reactions as you slow down – or faster. And if you’re not speeding up just because your head thinks “something needs to happen now” but because you feel that’s exactly what is needed now.
Sometimes its like dancing in the dark. You don't see anything, but you feel everything. And when you stop thinking and start listening - to their breathing, their tremors, the small, almost inaudible "mhms" - then magic happens. No hocus pocus, just real connection. And its hotter than any pornhub clip.
And you know what I learned? Good sex starts long before you get naked.
He starts with a glance that lasts a little too long. Having a conversation that suddenly goes deeper than thought. In a sentence like "I feel like I can tell you everything." “Or with a nervous laugh because you both realize: There’s something.
When at work you can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at you last night — that’s good sex. When you look forward to a glass of water, a smile, a “come here” all day — that’s great sex. And if you’re lying there sometime, sweaty, giggling, totally dissolved - because you feel noodled, seen and loved at the same time - then it wasn't just good sex. Then it was soul touching.
Good sex occurs, especially when there is no sex. In that which lasts. In the aftertaste. Looking forward to it. In a desire that does not immediately stop, but grows. Where your body says more of this. But not just physically. More of YOU.
And yes - it's related to safety too. With a nervous system that's not on alert. With an inner child that's not on escape mode. With a yes that comes not only out of courtesy, but out of a deep desire to encounter. On being touched. To fall.
I experienced sex that was more than pleasure. The One Who Was Like Trance. Like a different state of mind. Pulsating, penetrating – not only between the legs, but up to the brain. Where you suddenly feel everything softens. Time is stretching. The space is disappearing. And there's only you two.
And then there are those sex moments that change you.
Where you don't get up after the climax, but become silent. Might even cry - of joy. Because you feel seen. Because you suddenly realize how deep closeness can go. Because you lie there, touch, hug, open - and your whole body says: Thank you.
I think: good sex is when you stop working.
When you get out of the head, into the body. When you dare to feel everything - lust, vulnerability, devotion. When you don’t think about how you look - but that you are there. For real. Without a mask. No pressure.
And yes, that takes faith. A safe space. A person your nervous system can say, "I'm safe." "Then, and only then, it really starts. Then sex becomes not just movement – but encounter.
If you've never experienced this - no stress. We're not talking Hollywood love scenes or tantric superpowers here. But from real people. With real bodies. And a real longing for connection.
- Joe Turan
