Before you come at me with questions like “And what’s different about sex besides the orgasm?”, I’ll admit it upfront: I used to think the score was tallied solely by the number of climaxes. But then a series of experiences turned my world (and my bed) upside down. I discovered that sex can be so much more than the final “boom.” It’s a whirlwind of scents, touches, emotions and little miracles that happen between the first glance and the last embrace. Get ready for a backstage tour of truly good sex, where orgasm isn’t the finish line but just one of many attractions along the way.
What makes sex good
First, let’s define what “good sex” actually means. Answers vary from person to person, but some criteria appear so often they deserve their own Hall of Fame:
- Physical chemistry – that elusive spark that makes your knees buckle after the very first fleeting touch.
- Safety and trust – it sounds boring, but without fear of judgment or pain it’s much easier to relax.
- Playfulness – the ability to laugh, experiment and make mistakes without shame.
- Presence – when your mind isn’t wandering through a shopping list but is fully immersed in the moment.
Surprisingly, orgasm doesn’t appear on this list. Why? Because it’s more a result of the factors above than their main ingredient. Skipping straight to climax is like starting a movie five minutes before it ends and hoping you’ll understand the plot. Sure, you’ll get action, but the story is missing.
Intimacy and connection
When we talk about “chemistry,” we’re talking about intimacy. And I don’t mean candles and slow songs in the background (though they have their charm). It’s about how willing you are to be vulnerable: admitting that something turns you on that you’d be ashamed of elsewhere, or showing an unflattering, fluorescent-lit profile after a sleepless night. Intimacy isn’t glamour; it’s raw authenticity.
In practice, a relationship deepens not only by sharing orgasms but by sharing yourselves. When a lover strokes the belly you usually suck into your jeans and says, “This is where I love you most,” an inner tsunami of oxytocin hits. This love hormone doesn’t wait for orgasm—it’s triggered by touch, eye contact, shared laughter. And the more often we indulge in such moments, the more the brain “learns” that sex = comfort, not performance.
The role of communication
No one was born with a manual called How to Make Love to Anna (or John) Perfectly. Communication is the only way to get that personalized guide. Yet most of us push it outside the bedroom and, before sex, toss out at most: “Hope you like it.” If I got a crown for every such sentence, I’d buy myself a vibrator plated in 24-karat gold.
So what works?
- Asking during the act: “Is this okay like that?” It may sound distracting, but trust me, the body answers louder than words.
- Speaking in “I” statements: “I like it when…,” instead of “You never…” or “You always…”.
- Not being afraid of pauses. If something hurts or feels uncomfortable, say stop. The “it’ll pass” culture doesn’t work in sex—it just stores in the subconscious and next time the body shuts down before the shirt is off.
If you can openly discuss even mishaps with your partner, you create an atmosphere where no desire is “weird” and laughter isn’t a faux pas but seasoning.
What I’ve learned about my body
The funny thing is, nobody really taught us about our bodies in elementary school. Did you know the clitoris has more than 8,000 nerve endings and most of them lie beneath the surface? I found out at thirty! Until then I wondered why “standard” penetration didn’t give me what everyone in romantic films seemed to get.
The key lesson is: Not knowing = not being able to ask. So I got to know myself in the bathroom with a drop of lube and a mirror. Discovering that my most sensitive spots are on the sides of the clitoris rather than right on the tip saved me years of faking it. I also learned that:
- Rhythm matters more to me than intensity.
- I love the contrast of heat and cold—an ice cube in summer, warm hands in winter.
- I don’t always need an orgasm: sometimes a long, slow rocking is enough, and then I can fall asleep in an embrace without any finale.
Why mention it? Once you know your triggers and brakes, orgasm stops being the sole indicator of “success.” You learn to enjoy the journey—and may well find you don’t need to break the finish tape at all.
Conclusion: More than just a climax
I’m not knocking orgasms. They’re wonderful, healthy, relaxing and often fun. But if you build your love life solely on them, you’re giving up the whole playground for a single goal. Good sex is an alchemy of touch, trust, communication and self-knowledge. It’s a full-course meal, not a fast-food ball of pleasure.
Next time you tickle your partner’s nape, try slowing down. Feel their breath, your own heartbeat, the warmth of skin where you meet. You might find that right here you’re already home—and that the goal isn’t just around the corner but all around you. Because truly great sex isn’t measured by the decibels of moaning or the number of orgasmic waves. It’s measured by the smile that lingers on your lips long after you pull up the blanket and the lights have been out for ages.
