The Soundtrack of My Clitoris

Four minutes of music that cause hours of pleasure

Hands on the floor, dust on the broom, and suddenly that French music entered my ears. Normal Sunday, house cleaning, and Spotify decides to play “Je t’aime… moi non plus.”

Fuck. Just this was enough to make my body react immediately.

There’s no music that makes me harder than this shit.

I let the broom fall to the floor. Fuck the cleaning.

I’ve always had a soft spot for this song. Each note, each sigh from Jane Birkin, each whisper from Gainsbourg… all of this makes my dick hit the ceiling.

You don’t need to understand French to feel your body heating up. “Je vais et je viens” — coming and going — is what that bastard Gainsbourg repeats, like someone who’s putting it in and taking it out, putting it in and taking it out, in a rhythm that only those who’ve fucked slowly know how good it is.

I’ve had sex with this music playing.

Many times.

And holy shit, it’s not the same as fucking with any other music.

It’s as if my body knows exactly how much time there is between each of Jane’s moans. It’s like my cock follows the fucking rhythm of the organ in the song.

I remember once when we were in bed and I put this song on. We started fucking slowly, following that slow tempo. Suddenly, I found myself following each breath in the…