With 2 Comments, Posted under Sweet Ambrosia
This column contains graphic language and is intended for mature audiences only.
“We can do it anywhere,” the R&B sensation 112 croons through my television speakers, playing from the DVD player piled high with once-blank cds filled with songs about sex, labeled “Set the mood”, “Breeze’s sex mix ‘07” and “Fucking Lullaby.”
Slim and his posse go on to list a number or places—well, really a number of rooms: the bathroom, the patio, the kitchen. They essentially sing a very sensual song about making love not really “anywhere” as the song’s misnomer claims, but rather about making love in any of the spaces available in the privacy of one’s own home.
I’m not knocking it! Nine times out of ten when my girl and I go at it, it is definitely at home. She likes to close the blinds. Admittedly, I could just as soon open all the windows.
But then there’s that one in ten.
Yeah…there’s that one in ten.
I’m trying to tell you one in ten can change your LIFE!
Sex outside of the home—(i.e., sex in public places)—can improve your sex life in ways you wouldn’t even imagine. Sure, it’s naughty. Did somebody just say “illegal?” Okay, fine, so maybe in many cases it’s a little bit illegal, too, but that is a ticket for which I will pay the fine.
It’s so worth it. Many elements of good sex can be learned, experienced, and appreciated in the most impressionable way when you and that lucky little # are out on the town.
Here are a few of the lessons I’ve learned along the way:
This was not a lesson learned on purpose. In fact, the sex was in public more by default than design: I still lived with my parents! Where the hell was I supposed to do it? Why, in the backseat of a Skylark, of course (then a Cutlass…then a Mazda. Oh, shut up! I’m not the first to do it in cars! And then a Lincoln, too, damn it).
Sometimes we would do thangs in the front on the passenger side with the seat pushed all the way back. It doesn’t really matter where in a car you choose to be intimate. Unless it’s a freakin’ RV or a bus of some sort, one thing will be instantly clear: physical flexibility is the key to success.
I learned that in the worst way.
I remember one time a teenage love of mine and I were copulating on a parking lot behind The Pageant in The Loop (St. Louis). It was great! I was feeling it.
I was especially bold that night: my clothes were pretty much tossed all over the place; the steering wheel, the clutch, the little storage compartment between the driver’s seat and mine (Whatever. I’m not a driver. I have no idea what that hump thing in the middle of the car is called), all draped with my shit.
Suddenly, amidst moans and slurps we were both startled by a loud shattering noise. I peeked out the window from my semi-reclined passenger seat and whispered to her, “Oh my God, they are robbing the truck beside us!”
“What?!” she began to raise her torso from between my legs before I abruptly shoved her back down. “What the heck? Get down! There are three dudes busting shit out of the SUV right next to us. STAY DOWN. Hide me!”
And there on the parking lot, in all my nakedness, my seat was further reclined, my private parts were covered with face and locs, and my left leg was pressed flat back with my foot behind my head (for like 15 minutes) because that’s the position I was in when the windows were shattered, and it was too scary/risky for my leg to come flying down in view of next door’s assailants.
Hiding from vicious attackers aside, I always remember how inventive all of the positions were in cars, how bendy I had to be to make it work—to get it in good. And I’ve carried that lesson with me into my bedroom and beyond.
Because really,” Ouch! No, no wait, that hurts. My leg can’t do that,” is never something I want in my sex script.
Okay, now before I tell this story I must say, “I’M SORRY!”.
I’m sorry HRC for defiling your chic shindig! I’m sorry friends for not caring that you were all within arm’s length of my lustfest.
I’m sorry I couldn’t scream! Cuz it felt so good.
We were at the L Word Season 2 Premiere Party at H20. Woooh! Good Lord, I still get chills just thinking about it! I don’t remember what I was wearing. I remember she was wearing a nice sweater and a hat. I remember this because not too long before it went down, one of my home girl’s told me they thought she seemed like a good catch “and she [could] dress.”
The spot was crawling with women. The wall was plastered with a huge screen of prettiness and plot. And there I was in the middle of the room with two fingers and a thumb up in the middle of me.
I couldn’t breathe too heavy. I couldn’t scream or moan. I couldn’t talk shit (and I loooooove to talk shit). But none of that mattered. What mattered most was this:
We couldn’t wait.
I will always remember that feeling. I’ve experienced it again a number of times since.
That urgency is contagious once created. You can start it with a simple rub up the leg, a demanding grip on the thigh, a hot nibble on the back of the neck…a tug of the hair.
There is nothing quite like that I-want-you-so-bad-I-have-got-to-have-you-right-this-second-I-don’t-care-what-the-hell-is-going-on-where-we-are-or-who-is-watching sentiment. It’s such a turn on to be so immediately required that one will probably find her/himself inclined to oblige.
In private or in public places, create the urgency. It inspires, “YES.”
It wasn’t an ordinary night. And Discretion was not the name of the game. I was wearing a patent-leather, halter-top corset, matching garter belt and red ruffled panties, stilettos, netted stockings, and there were at least a hundred people in the room.
It was Sexxxhibition: The Fetish Edition, and I was the host. Now…what happens at Sexxxhibition stays at Sexxxhibition. Truly. It does. But I will say this:
I was so nervous I could barely get wet at first. My heart was pounding a hole through my chest. I was terrified, but Oh Sweet Mother Nature, I was EXCITED!
No, you’re not hearing me: I WAS EXCITED!
See, my girl and I have been together for over four years. It doesn’t get boring. I mean we switch it up and all, but we’ve crossed a lot of lines together.
Yes, yes, we’ve done many things. So we must face down predictability. We must throw down the gauntlet. Novelty is something couples never stop needing. For us, exploring new terrain together inspires our intimacy and keeps our relationship fresh.
The sense of shared adventure, the Bonnie & Clyde-esque, partner-in-crime vibe were riding together that night…there is no comparable high!
By the time we finished everybody was clapping. And I couldn’t hide my smile (albeit a hazed-over grin).
The adventure was just the beginning. That tryst implanted some residually useful ammo, as well.
After “going there” with an audience of my peers (on a platform, no less!), I ain’t NEVA SCARED! Seriously, I think that a play-party session could be the cure to all self-consciousness.
Something about being so exposed and so uninhibited brought me completely out of my shell. Heck, I credit that Sexxxhibition moment with half of the courage I need to publish this column! Everybody saw me. Everybody knew it was me. And guess what? The earth didn’t move. The ground didn’t drop out from under me.
And I have a fantastic memory and incomparable comfort in my own skin: my prized party favors.
Actually, ladies, you should come. Notice the spelling “come” denoting no intended pun. Well, okay; I want the pun, too, now. But I’d be satisfied just to see you at the party. SEXXXHIBITION:…It’s a Ladies-Only Paste-Teaze Party! June 12th.
If you’re shy, don’t worry: you can just enjoy the atmosphere.
Sex Is A Breeze….Thursdays on BlueCentric.