Warning: This post contains adult themes of a sexual nature.
After the (un)comfortably-short-skirt incident my life settled down: I got a proper girlfriend. A fun-loving straight girl that actually liked PENIS instead of strap-ons — hooray! Now fast forward a year: I’ve been in a relationship for a year and things are going well — as well as can be expected for my first long-term girlfriend!
It was 10am and far too early to be up and about, but we both had lectures to attend so there we were, lamely limping into university, her arms around me.
‘I’d offer to carry you on my back, but I think I put it out during the standing-69…’
We hobbled on in contemplative silence, the night of passion coming back to flood our senses. We grin at each other.
‘It’s OK, Sebby. I don’t think I could hold on with these thighs anyway… What did you DO down there?’
To say that we had an active sex life would be a massive understatement. Once upon a time sex 5, 6, 7 times a night wasn’t a problem. I’d collapse in a sweaty heap afterward but be ready to go again in the morning! Today, a flight of stairs will leave me breathless. That’s why I’ve been working on my cardiac fitness, incidentally. I can’t imagine a girl would be very understanding if I go to all the effort of serenading, courting, wooing… and then not follow through with the goods. Anti-climax, I think they’d call it. Not usually a problem of mine, being an under-sexed geek, but a man should look after his heart! Back at university, I actually kept a list of every available room and surface in the house, and by the end of university everything on that list had been crossed off (I think some of my university housemates are reading this — sorry you had to find out this way but we did tidy up properly…)
In most extended sexual encounters, a couple will go through a variety of positions: the tight, fully-clothed embrace, followed by lingering kisses down the jaw to the neck. A hand slips inside your shirt, or skirt, and then your hands are everywhere all at once, fingertips reawakening parts of you that have lain dormant since the last time you were together; nether regions that can only be awoken by your lover. The kissing and groping continues, the latent heat building up between you until you’re uncomfortably hot. Finally one of you stops and looks down. Pause. You’re at a crossroads: to the left there’s dinner, dessert and Desperate Housewives. To the right, a night of sweaty, limb-entwined debauchery. I grin and slide down over her stomach, leaving teasing little kisses as I go. A quick bite on the thigh and it’s time for sex, baby!
If you’re athletic and gymnastic, or just plain crazy, there are a lot of positions available to you: some intimate, some not. Some easy-going and some so blisteringly intense that I’m lucky if I last more than a few minutes. A lot of couples, I am told, don’t get much further than the missionary position — whether that’s due to lack of creativity, or an upbringing where inventiveness in the bedroom is considered aberrated I don’t know, but they’re missing out!
This is where things are going to become a little Too Much Information (TMI), so if you’re under 18 or wearing tight clothing, you might want to look away now.
We both had a day off and we were making the most of it — sex during daylight hours is a lot of fun: erotic and explicit because you’re totally exposed. It’s about as ‘exhibitionist’ as you can get without actually doing it in public. Little did we know, there actually was a spectator, a voyeur — we were unwittingly exhibiting ourselves! There we were, on my bed, naked and excited. The kissing had come and gone, the foreplay had been abandoned and she slid over my my body into one of our favourite positions (if you can’t see the animation below, you’ll have to visit my blog — it’s not quite right, but it gives you a good idea of what I’m talking about).
I’ll spare you most of the details (you can click the little animation, if you want more info) but I’ll tell you this: it’s a good position, a really good position. For both of you. And I haven’t had the chance to do it in… 4 years now… Jesus. ANYWAY…
You have to imagine lots of panting and whimpering now — mine if you’re a girl and hers if you’re a guy. Faster, harder, deeper! No, no, wrong hole! YES, yes, YES. My arms are burning — I’ve got strong fingers from the typing, but my arms just aren’t up to the job. Quicker and tighter, I give it all I’ve got, hoping we make it to the finishing line together — it’s going to be close, but if I can time it just right and if I don’t pass out… The panting turns to moaning, the whimpering now a low growl. Sebby, I’m… coming…
‘OH MY GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT GIRL?’
Sebby… don’t… stop!
‘My housemate’s mother is looking through the bedroom window at us. Do you really want me to carry on?’ Mid-thrust, I give her a little wave from my vantage point, hidden underneath my girlfriend’s very naked, very pink and still-quivering body.
But, but… buttt… She squirms around, still very much attached to me and not ready to let go just yet. She sighs. Fine… The g-spot orgasm she’d been seconds away from has eluded her, for a while longer at least.
My housemate’s mother is still watching, her nose pushed up against the window, a rictus of curiousity and terror embossed upon her face. I notice I’ve left one of the windows open. Damn.
‘Should we continue…?’ I don’t want to disappoint our new-found fan. Finally it dawns on my girlfriend that someone’s mother has just watched us go at it, possibly for a long time… She quickly climbs under the duvet and glares at the window. Make her go away, Sebby…
Eventually my housemate arrived — she’d heard the scream and come running. Looking in she grinned at me (another story, that one) and pulled her catatonic mother away who was still muttering to herself, ‘but… she’s just a child…’
What I would’ve given to read her mother’s thoughts. I have my money on: ‘That girl needs a merkin!’