MOMENTS AFTER. A poem perfectly suited to ‘was it good for you?’. RAFE JENNINGS.

I’m sorry, it doesn’t usually happen,
I really thought I’d last,
– it’s often quite good, apparently,
when it doesn’t – happen – so fast.

You’re silent, (understandably).
Unsure what to say, you quietly offer “I’m flattered -”
I turn the other way.

“It’s normal”, you plead to me,
“there’s no need to be ashamed.
It happens to everyone”.

(When so impassioned and so inflamed).

‘Normal’ and like ‘everyone else’.
Forgettable – that’s how I seem.
An embarrassed joke to all your friends,
tomorrow, over tea.

I wanted you to remember it.
Me – how I changed your life –
you lying next to some impotent chump,
a loveless, sex-starved wife –

lying there unsatisfied,
remembering this,
you’d touch yourself aggressively.
I’d bring you back to guilty bliss.

In lonely nights the thought of me,
Would turn you on. You’d be ashamed
How what I did enflames you so –

Sweaty and convulting, you’d scream my name.

The fantasy, I know by now
of a narcissistic man – obsessed with being the fatal love
in a lifelong plan.

So maybe I should be ashamed,
but not for what I did, but rather what I meant to do.
What I meant to do to you.

That thought begins to sober me.
Then you say that cutting line.
“Well”, you say, “Usain Bolt
would be happy with that time”.

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TURN ME ON. ‘Man in the rubber glove’. By someone mysterious who sent this to me in the shadows.

At first you’ll enjoy it all, And then you’ll give it a go.
Act cool, You’ve got enough to show – although be sure to let it grow.
In the moment you won’t last, You’ll cum too fast. Is this the end, Will she still want to be my girlfriend? You’ll learn to seek shelter with your head between her legs, Listening to her as she begs. Using her groans to block out your own, However yours are more of a moan.
Why is it that you can’t last as long as your love, That’s a question you’ll have to ask the man in the rubber glove. A hand so keen to touch, A lover probably capable of so much. Debilitated supposedly by only mind, And supposedly it is confidence you’ll need to find. Confidence in who? I’ll leave that one down to you.

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THE EXPERIMENT. BECCY PHIPPS (THE EXPERIMENTER). Illustrations by Ellie Beale.

MY ATTEMPT AT BEING A SEX GURU.
Are you tired of seeing headlines promoting “1001 essential, mind-blowing sex positions”? Although you are of course an open-minded, sexually-liberated man or woman, do you worry that everyone else is secretly having sexier sex? Do you really just wish that someone would take a best-selling book of sex positions and assign them to days of a week on a completely random basis, attempting to determine if these “mind-blowing sex tips” are logistically feasible and if they’re actually worth it? Well, armed with a love for hard-hitting journalism (pardon the pun), an ever-patient boyfriend and willingness to look like an idiot, that was this week’s aim. For science.

Monday; The Rickshaw (120)
Research begins terribly. Despite the book’s bold claim that within this position “a woman of strength and vitality can draw her man down paths of endless pleasure” the boyfriend just laughed at me. Fucking book. Turns out that remembering the logistics of new sex positions without having clear diagrams next to you for consultation is actually quite difficult, who knew we had this many legs? Failing at day one of being a wanton sex goddess, we gave up and just resided to some casual love making.

Tuesday; kingfishers dive (315)
Surely the first thing to highlight here is that we actually managed to get into this position, and have some sex for a good ten minutes in it, which was surprisingly really good, but unfortunately only for me. Apparently, the downward angle (I am short) was less than pleasant for the boyfriend, although he managed to keep at it for a while so well done him. So, maybe try this if you don’t like or care about the well-being of the person you are banging. Disclaimer, I would recommend NOT doing this just after a hard gym session, my arms almost gave way, which now I think about it might have contributed to the boyfriend generally not finding it sexy.

Wednesday; the deer (212)
Logistically this is complicated, and looking at the picture again I’m not sure we quite got it down, which might be why it was incredibly shallow and unsatisfying, or it might not. It kind of transitioned into a standard doggy-style which was infinitely better. Maybe this is one worth trying second time around, since it certainly looks promising.

Thursday; Rising Position (113)
While neither complicated, nor adventurous, this intimate and angle made penetration deep and directly into the g-spot and I came pretty hard (excellent Trip Advisor rating, 9/10 would recommend). Incidentally, this was the only time the Book made me come all week. Fucking book.

Friday; The Sharp Tilt (192)
Poor boyfriend, unfortunately I got into this a bit too much and, really throwing myself into the tilted aspect of “The Sharp Tilt”, appear to have overshot it. although I’m fairly confident that I almost definitely didn’t hear anything snap.

Saturday; Samatala Love Blow (72)
By this time the boyfriend’s enthusiasm for book-prescribed sex is negligible, for him very few of them are working for him. Which means that unfortunately I had to trick him into this position, which was not my finest hour. The pay-off was actually pretty good though, working like a deeper version of reverse cowgirl and hitting all the right places. The book also says that spanking is effectively non-negotiable (it is called the love blow), which was fine by me.
SUNDAY: DAY OF REST
No more please.

THE RESULTS.
So, what are the results of my extremely-scientific-experiment? Initially, I assumed that the boyfriend would find all these stereotypical turn on’s extremely sexy, which he really didn’t. In contrast by Wednesday strong persuasion was required to get him to continue. Part of the issue is that many of the positions seemed logistically infeasible and that having to refer to diagrams in the middle of sex is not sexy. But more importantly, sex should always be something fun, but is a depiction of the sex you ought to be having, with pictures of the body you ought to have to do so, really that fun? While some of the positions were pretty good, those that were worth doing certainly weren’t anything that couldn’t have been concocted through an honest discussion or awareness about what is enjoyable and what isn’t. By far the best sex I’ve ever had has been when I was comfortable with myself and my partner and while being in a loving relationship might help that, it’s certainly not necessary. Or, as the boyfriend paraphrased, “I love you why can’t we just have nice sex?” Essentially to prescriptive attempts at telling you what you ought to enjoy (and that includes you, Teresa May, stop trying to take away my porn!) you just have to say fuck off, and just do whatever feels good.

photo

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