The best sex I ever had didn’t include intercourse. I was making out with an ex who I was considering reuniting with, but I wanted to keep our sexual interactions relatively innocent until I decided if I wanted to let him back in emotionally. As we kissed, his jeans-enclosed thigh rubbed between my legs. It felt so silly, so adolescent, so not like what grown-ups do—until he kept at it and I had one of the biggest orgasms of my life. For me, orgasms tend to be slightly complicated experiences that involve a lot of fantasy and brain negotiations, so it was all the more pleasurable to have one that snuck up on me. It was not unlike and yet totally unlike the thrill I get when the chiropractor distracts me with a joke so that I’ll relax enough to allow him to adjust my neck. My experience falls into what’s known as outercourse, or sex without penetration. You might call it foreplay or write it off as an activity for purity-ring wearers, but it can be surprisingly satisfying for people who bid adieu to their virginity decades ago.