I think a lot of people feel as though their favourite sexual position says a lot about their personality. And I couldn’t agree more.
I, for instance, would rather say in public that my favourite position is doggy-style because, as a woman, it makes me feel all seductive and devious. In reality, I love a good missionary. But in certain social situations I’d keep tight lipped about this fact. After all, it’s almost like opting for plain toast over jam or marmalade. Totally uninteresting and lacking in lacklustre. Butter on toast is sex’s equivalent to the cowgirl, if you will.
But while I’ll remain sexually explicit on the outside, I’ll still vye for the ‘mundane’ on the inside. I mean come on, surely to God I’m not alone in thinking “so what?” when people go on and on about the fact that they’ve had sex in some ‘seriously outrageous places’? The fact is, although you might feel a little bit naughty because you’re engaging in al fresco activities, you’ve probably also got grass in hard-to-reach places and sand in your saddle bags. And although the thrill of being caught is promising, the possibility of starring in a tantalising peep show is overshadowed by the reality that some old pervert is whacking off to your antics from behind a wheelie bin. I’m therefore not jealous of your experiences, I’d just recommend checking the internet for some unwanted up-skirt shots from around the back of Infernos.
Another position I’ve grappled with for years now is the standing position. Although ideal when propped up against a wall or able to rest on some sort of ledge, the standing position only works if the guy is able to lift you in the first place. I’m no heavy weight but I do have some mild junk in my trunk and I cannot tell you how disheartening that subtle groan is coming from your man, not because you’re doing something right, but because you’re quite literally too heavy to handle.
The most likely location for standing sex to take place is the shower and the prospect of this fills me with dread. For me, the most powerful showers peel away at my fake tan, I constantly fail to keep my head from being placed under the stream of water turning my sultry waves into a frizz bomb and I wouldn’t really ever want to have sex with no makeup on so I’d go from looking pristine to panda in around thirty seconds. Just about as long as the sex would last before one of us slipped on the soap and was taken to A&E. Trust me, it happened.
Then there’s sex on unsuspecting furnishings that people so love to brag about. “We had sex on the stove last night”. Why on earth would you want to romp on the same place your rump was frying the night before? I feel as though I could make some sort of saucy joke here, but I’ll refrain.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no prude. I like a good marathon as much as the next girl and there’s nothing better than a need-you-now moment, but there is also nothing better than sticking to what you know. And much like finding the perfect dress, you’ll spend hours traipsing around (all hot and bothered) finding the perfect one, only to realise that you found it in the first shop you browsed that morning.
Having said all this, in a game of sexually orientated ‘I have never’, my glass is normally one of the first to be emptied.
Trial and error kids, trial and error.