I won't tell you how it was, what we did, why it happened.
There will be no descriptions of erotic entanglement. I am not going to wax lyrical about my cunt, his cock, her nipples or the force and frequency of my orgasms.
The intimate moments I have experienced are not for mass distribution. I have no need of a panel of judges holding up score cards on my performance. I don't need someone to tell me it was hot, arousing or beautiful to know that it was these things.
I take out my memories and hold them up to the light, now and then, and they sparkle and shine just for me. I treat them with care, tend them well. I keep the pages of my history crisp and clean, not dog-eared and grimy after being riffled through by numerous unwashed hands.
I have no desire to show people I have never met what my genitals look like. Or what my sexual partner's genitals look like. Or what I stuck up their arse.
Some things are just for me. Just as some things should be kept just for you. Sharing is not always good.