‘Crying during sex’ by Kalya

Illustration depicting a man and woman wrapped around each other
Illustration depicting a man and woman wrapped around each other

The tears fell down.

They fell down onto his bare torso.

You see, I was on top of him, riding him like a horse in full gallop; my naked breasts jiggling to the rhythm I had created.

He was lying back, eyes closed, with a pained expression on his face which undoubtedly showed pure pleasure. His hands were caressing my waist and hips and thighs.


The tears became too much; they became so much that I stopped winding around his shaft and collapsed on him, sobbing quietly. He held me.

After a few moments, he asked me desperately to keep on going.

Still, in that horizontal position, I put myself face to face to him and proceeded with the grinding. He got hold of my breasts and began squeezing and licking and sucking them.


Why was I crying during sex? And crying uncontrollably at that? It had never happened before.

Maybe it’s because this man had given me a beautiful child and I was carrying a second one.

Maybe it’s because the following day I was going on a long safari and wouldn’t see him for a long time.

Maybe it’s because I fit the ‘strong independent woman’ archetype yet this man was proving to be my weakness – my afro-kryptonite – my Lwanda’s shadow*. He turned me into Samson without his seven locks.

Maybe it’s one of these reasons, a combination of some of these reasons or none of them. I’m not sure.

I feel I shouldn’t analyze my emotions and just let them be but logic is my companion – I have this compulsive need to understand everything.


All in all, I cried during love-making.

While still in that horizontal position, I came. I had one of those earth-shattering orgasms, the kind that open doors to other realms and take you there. And while I was in the throes, more and more tears fell. He was covered in my sweat and tears – a lot of tears.



*Lwanda Magere is an ancient warrior who lived around the Great Lake, commonly known as ‘Lake Victoria’. His story is oddly similar to the biblical Samson – it dates back many generations, way before the missionaries came. He was the bravest man and he defeated and conquered many lands. He was invincible; it was believed he was made of stone; no weapon could harm him.

He fell in love with and married a beautiful woman from an enemy state. His people were against the relationship but Lwanda did not heed them. One day, Lwanda fell sick. His new wife tended to him and noticed that his shadow bleeds; it was made of flesh. She had found his weakness! She informed her people who waged war against Lwanda’s kingdom despite them being now in-laws. Needless to say, a spear was aimed at Lwanda’s shadow and he died. His body then turned into stone.

Lwanda Magere is a fine name; let’s give such names to our children. Let’s give the Peters and the Pauls a break now, won’t we?

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