And the usage of fuck is meant to be as an adjective, not a verb.
Naivety always slaps me in the face just when I think I'm with it. I'm pretty hip, but what with years of marriage and middle age looming like a Sequoia about to fall (ok, not that close, middle age for me is over a decade away because I'm going to live until I'm 98), I'll grant that I've missed an advancement or two in the realm of sex.
I also appreciate that as an American I'm thought of as quite puritan by the rest of the world, as the US seems to be so shy about sex. We give our penises and vaginas cutsey names and call intercourse anything but: hook up, get laid, make whoopie, bedsheet tango, nookie, bonk, fuck, get it on, get a peice of ass, quickie, screw, bang; my fav, of course: the nasty; (this is by no means a comprehensive list) and even the ubiquitous "doin' it." I mean, how vague can you get, right? Doin' it. Of course, the upside of this attitude is how it enables four adults to sit around and giggle for two hours over sexual references in a nice restuarant until they are politely refused decent alcohol.
But as for me personally, I'm no shrinking violet (a term I've always thought more applicable to men for obvious reasons). I might not detail my experiences with abandon, but be assured I'm having them with abandon; and I'm not shy if the subject comes up. I enjoy my bit of porn now and again. I do the fantasy thaing (umm, Cryptic, hmmm). I read sex shit on the web (all your blogs, for instance and there's some sex bein' had out there). I hit links like the rest of us. I even have truly grown to enjoy writing sex scenes in my fiction.
(Hopefully PHF enjoys the urges they inspire... or do the urges inspire the scenes? Hmm.) And I've never pretended not to enjoy my time in the sack. I mean, my own blog has Sex in the title, for crissake. We all do it and no doubt it's way fun. No harm in admission so I'll do so right here, right now.
I like sex. Love it, in fact.
I'm not alone in this. People are doin' it, and they LIKE doin' it, and they LOVE to talk about doin' it. Everybody talks about the opposite sex ALL THE TIME, (or same sex, if that's your bag). Hell, I'm even married and I do it too. We as a race of beings are simply obsessed by the entire event: from the prospect of eyeing a potential to the point of marriage (where rumor has it - sex goes to die) and every related moment in between.
And there are those turn-ons and fetishes out there, from the funny to damn-hot: stuffed animals, bondage, lingerie, etc. Licking, biting, pain, tickling... And then we like talk about which body part we like best: feet, legs, fingers, tits, asses. My personal spot is that curve of muscle between a guy's neck and his shoulder... hmm. See that on a guy and I just wanna sink my teeth in...
I think I need a minute.
When we aren't talking about hookin' up, we're talking about our sex toys; even going so far as to eulegize our Vibrators Who Have Gone to the Great Vagina in the Sky. And the topic of masturbation is downright prevalent. I guess if you're a guy between the ages of about 13 and 30 it seems to be a regular part of your day (if blogs can be believed, and I think in this they can be). Guys talk about it matter-of-factly, how long it takes, when they can fit it into their busy schedules, they discuss pictures that get them off and sexy noises... (There's a funny psychology about talking about jacking off I think, like you admit you do it so that means... what? That you do actually do it and it's ok? Or does it mean that you don't do it? There's got to be more to it than the obvious. Anyone care to enlighten me?) Anyway, I've read an awful lot of discourse on masturbation from guys since this whole blog thing got going for me about six months ago. TMI to be sure, but what can you do? Apparently, it's a part of who they are.
None of this offends me. I'm virtually un-offendable (not throwing out a challenge here) and I've heard and done and seen LOTS of things. I'm ok with it. Even if sometimes my own reaction surprises me (like, who knew guys kissing each other could be so damn sexy?) I figured by now I'd pretty much heard or seen all the world had to offer up on sex.
But I didn't know there was such a thing as fuck furniture. Ok, they call them sex wedges or some such, but shit. They are big foam thingies to put on the bed or floor and do it on. PHF found an ad in the back of his Car and Driver and pointed it out to me - of course mightily amused that he'd found something with which to surprise me.
So I looked at the website and studied the pix and even with a stray nipple here and a stray hard-on there I've got to say I didn't even feel a tingle. All I could think was: Hmm. Isn't innovation supposed to be part of the fun?
I'm having trouble accepting that these products actually enhance sex. We've all done crazy angles and shit - you know, you just sort of shift until it's right/ and I'll try about anything once. But sliding on my back down a foam wedge didn't look all that appealing. Also, there's the "arrange the furniture" aspect. You can buy like four different pieces and arrange them in "countless ways for countless positions" (their words, not mine - and besides, there's no such thing as countless positions. I guess if you're measuring in infinite numbers and by the milimeter, then perhaps; but they're really all a variation of the the basic say, dozen or so. See Kama Sutra).
And, what if you want a switcheroo-to-something-new? You've got to stop and "arrange the furniture" again. In my experience, the last thing anybody (trying to keep vague here) wants to do in the middle of the nasty is pause to move stuff around. Actually, having to do so usually inspires a breathless cuss word or two, and maybe a glass of water spilled from the nightstand when hit by a poorly thrown pillow.
It's not even the romance factor - because really I'm in it more for the sex (again, aren't we all?) and pausing for adjustment is natural. But this is a big blue foam doohickey. You've pretty much got to stand up to move the thing, and then the other person has to arrange themselves on it. And that, I'd venture to say, might take long enough to kinda kill the mood.
Of course, it could alleviate those anxious moments when you actually have to broach the subject of having sex with your partner. Some people are uncomfortable with the question, "So, ya wanna do it?" It could become the new codeword for such couples, in fact. Instead of stripping off your clothes as you walk to the bed, sofa, woodland glen or where ever it is that you choose to partake, you could just set up this big blue foam cushion. I bet your partner would catch on. Maybe they'd even be turned on.
But if they were to say "not tonight", which happens on occassion, then you've got the proverbial gigantic "white elephant" (or "big blue foam wedge" which is as effective a term) in the room with you. Because these things are big enough that storage is an issue.
Anyway, I plan on keeping mine in the corner behind the armoire and a full review will be forthcoming once we've put it through its paces.