31 October 2007

TMI Tuesday #11: Statistics Are My Life.

Why one day late? Because my sexual peccadillos and observations are so important that they need your complete attention. Yes, I'm that important to your psyche's libido.


1. If they kept stats of your sex life like they do in sports, what would you lead the league in? what all time record would you hold?

I'm currently leading the league in FPPH — fantasy positions per hour. Why, just as I wrote this entry, I fucked Amy on a staircase, one of her legs pointing to the sky; and she rode me cowgirl while simultaneously handling a work-related cell phone conversation with her boss.

And I will undoubtedly make it into the Sex Hall of Fame with my strong hold on the official TCSD. That would be teasing clitoral stimulation duration. Amy hates that I have this record, and believes I should be banished from all major league sex-realted sports for my "bad sportsmanship." To which I reply: "When all is said and done, who loses?"


2. What song gets you in the mood to have sex? best music to fuck to? best music to make love to?

This questionsis so relative to the moment. What would get me going right now? Probably something sung by the more gravelly-voiced singer in Gomez. I have no idea why.

But if we want to go with a more traditional "what would get me in the mood" song, it would probably be Prince's "Darling Nikki." Trés predictable, I know. It has to do with Purple Rain's placement in time during my high-school / college years. The song had this taboo quality — not so much because I was listening to it, but the fact that the nation was listening to it. Even a censored version of "Darling Nikki" got mega-airplay in the early 1980s, and that amazes me to this day. Perhaps memories associated with the song is underwritten by teenage hormones, but it really seemed like there was this secret my generation carried around with us, like a pop-music version of our own pocket-rocket vibrator.

Plus, Prince makes Amy horny. Period. I'm sure that's related to her memories/hormones from that time as well.

Best music to make love to ... Why is that more difficult? Maybe because when we do have sex, we fuck more than make love. But okay, I'll bite. Coldplay's first album, Parachutes, has this magic that, quite frankly, the band has never captured again. (Which is not to say the later stuff isn't good, they just went in a different direction.) There is an intimacy on tracks like "Spies," "Trouble," "High Speed," and the superb, enthralling "Everything's Not Lost" (sorry about the Harry Potter vid link for that last one — just close your eyes and listen) that totally turns me on. Amy and I had a wonderful weekend in a bed and breakfast listening to this record. Ah, those care-free, pre-parenting years.


3. Where is your favorite place to have sex in your house/apartment?

There's a couch in the basement I like a lot, because it's the perfect height to bend Amy over, stand up, and fuck her. Optionally, we can watch porn from this position quite easily.

But the real interest for me is in the places I want to fuck her in the house: let me assure you that Amy desperately needs to be fucked on our kitchen island and on our dining room table. The kitchen counter would be so perfect. A nice, high level, so I don't have to bend over far when I eat her out while her curled-toe feet are hooked under the counter ledge on each side. The bright light just a couple of feet above her would give it this spotlight-on-stage quality — further enhanced by the fact that our next-door neighbors could look down outside their master bedroom suite bathroom window and enjoy the show. (To my knowledge, they never have — the window is a bit high to make that an easy maneuver for them — but the thought still tantalizes.)

And the dining room table, that's all about this common area, this community place that everyone visits on a daily basis. I mean, the couch is the same way, but everyone fucks on a couch. To be sitting at that beautiful mahogany table with my whole family at a Thanksgiving feast, and to lean over to Amy's ear and whisper: "Do you remember when I was pushing your face, your tits, into this surface a couple of weeks ago? How your breath condensed on the wood and you asked me to fuck you harder?"

I mean, come on. Does it get better than that?


4. Have you taken/asked for a girls panties before? What did you do with them?

I haven't. Panties off of a woman don't do much for me. I love to play with panties while they're still on a woman ... pull them up and into her slit ... try to eat her through them ... pull them aside and fuck her without taking them off. But actually doing something with them when they're off beyond throwing them as hard as I can against the far wall in my aggressive passion ... Nah. I've even tried a pair on to see if it did anything. It didn't. Not in my wiring, I guess.


5. What makes a kiss a great to you?

It's all in the approach. The simmering intention behind the eyes. The warm, parting lips that take an extra modicum of effort to separate. And then slightly missing the bullseye target lips, either purposely or not. An imperfect landing for me implies that passion is more important than technique. It's more important that this kiss happen now than it happen in a Hollywood moment.


Bonus: Who pays for a date? If the girl asks a guy out, does she pay? If you are interested in same sex partners, how do you determine who pays?

Who pays for our date? Everyone pays for it. The gas that we expend getting their is adding to the pollution. The food we consume is adding to humanity's reckless destruction of our planet. The movie we attend adds to the belittling of intelligent thought in our popular culture. The noise of our frenzied sex on the sixth floor of the parking garage adds to the noise pollution, not to mention the embarrassment of the ultra-conservative Christian couple who walk by the car and try their best, with small talk about the romantic flick they just saw, to ignore the female voice they just distinctly heard screaming Do my ass NOW, you fucker! from behind the fogging, tempered glass.

Oh yes. We all pay.

-----

I have a little project for November: I'm writing a novel. No, sadly (for you), it's not a sex novel. (But maybe another year I'll try that.) I'm only mentioning it here because, heck, I just showed up again, and now I may not be posting a lot during November. Have no fear: I will try to post occasionally during the next 30 days, but I expect to be more "present" in December and beyond.

8 comments:

la fille mariée said...

I very much liked the breath fogging the dining room table detail. Nicely imagined.

50 000 words in one month??? Are you crazy??? Who the hell would be crazy enough to commit to something that insane???

Heh. :)

Denis Connor said...

If I'm falling into insanity, fille, I am so taking you with me.

The Middle Child said...

There's the guy we all know and love to read!!!!

Penelope said...

Your answer to the bonus question has to be the TMI funniest answer I've ever read!

izzy said...

Oh, you're back. I'd grown so used to that April post that it's sort of strange to see new worlds.

Best of luck on your novel. It's going to be crap. May you have the grace to accept that, and the common sense to know if it's worth editing.

I hope it is. -grins-

Autumn said...

Ahaha, NaNo! I tried that for three years before giving up. Good luck!

That said, I haven't checked on this blog since October, all but giving up hope on a post. And voila, here we are. I'm de-lurking to say welcome back! :)

--Autumn

Andy-bbbj Los Angeles said...

I live the song wonderful tonight, it conditions me and get me in the mood.

john smith said...
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