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Saturday, January 08, 2005

Let's Talk About Sex Baby

Mr. Lane and I have been together for 16 years. That's a long time with many sexual moments and outtakes. I don't want to make anyone puke at the thought of us humping each other's brains out, so I'll try my best to be somewhat nondescriptive.

Back when, every time was like the fist time for Mr. Lane. (He would shit if he knew I was telling you guys this. HA! I guess this will show him he should have taken an interest in my writing.) Like In-N-Out Burger, bada-bing-bada-boom, and he was snoring! I tried telling him that foreplay was a good thing. I told him it would build me up to a happy plateau so I could be ready when he was ready, he just didn't listen.

Since those day, he and I have undergone a complete role reversal. I used to fantasize about being caressed, kissed slowly all over and have him run his fingers through my hair. But after so many years of that lousy bastid not being able to understand what foreplay is, I guess I gave up longing for that stuff. And now I find it rather troublesome and annoying.

Out of nowhere, about a year ago, Mr. Lane decided to give this thing called foreplay a try.
I gave him the "Hop aboard." look.
He gave back the "But I love you." look.
I gave him the "Hurry this thing along." look.
He rebutted with a "What's a matta for you?" look.
I gave him the "Sorry pal, the offer for foreplay expired." look.
He gave me the "Sad puppy dog needs a meaty bone to slurp." look.
I gave him the "Get this deed done and stop playing with your food." look.
He ignored all of the earlier looks and went to run his fingers through my hair, forgot to take my hair out of my ever so sexy ponytail and got his stupid fingers caught.
I gave him the "Rip one more hair outta my fucking head, and I'll kill ya!" look.
And he gave me the "Why don't you love me?" look.
I felt bad and let him tear every friggin' hair out of my head hoping the climb atop mount flesh would soon begin.

See what I mean about troublesome and annoying?

Over the years, we have gone through every position possible, slowly building up his stamina. For quite a stint, it was all missionary all the time. I'd look to the ceiling and think, 'Beige, we need to paint the ceiling beige.' Okay, so I saw that in a movie a million years ago, but it never failed, that's what I thought.

He never felt the need for foreplay then, so why now? I have to admit in his old age, he is getting good. There's really no need for all that foreplay stuff, not now. Sure maybe it would have been nice before when I used to call him Quick Draw McGraw. I tried to tell him he really didn't need to go through all of the trouble, and even in a nice way, as to not bruise his ego but he just wouldn't listen.

The foreplay thing, well, maybe I'll get used to the idea of it, but I wonder if he hasn't begun using it in an effort to make up for certain things that aren't what they were before. I mean, let's face it, our bodies are only capable of so much.

We finally managed to shy away from the missionary position but don't get too terribly freaky. I mean, it's all good, I get mine, he gets his, sometimes at the same time, not often, but good, ya know?

He doesn't expect crazy acrobatics from me like in our much earlier years. And it's a good goddamned thing too because, I'm a lot of things, limber isn't one of them.

To be honest, it isn't unusual for one of us to shout out during the deed, not in pleasure, but pain as a result of a locked up hip or lower back.

"Oh, oooooh, babe, oooh babe, stop! My fucking leg is stuck!"
"Ooooh, damn, mine too!"

So perhaps foreplay to him is like an exercise warm up. To get the blood flowing, (pun intended) and to loosen our bodies up (pun intended again). Who knows what that man is thinking. Maybe I'll get used to this foreplay stuff, or maybe he'll give it up. I just hope that whatever happens, the other is present when it happens.