Creaming Spires TT15 Week 2

Perhaps  the  great  secret  about  sex  is that no one really likes it that much. I don’t like it that much, and I’m utterly convinced  that  a  great many –  if  not  the majority of – people feel the same. Yes, the urge is there, the promise is great – but in the merry moment the act resembles little more than  some  great  fleshy  catastrophe. For  a  long  time,  I  could  think  of nothing less  appetising  than  watching  two  mammals  rolling  over  and around  each  other and,  finally,  alas  (and  always  to  my  great 
horror) try to enter each other. Yes, the feeling was for a long time a mere nausea. That is until I discovered the humour of sex – it’s peculiar  brand  of comedy.  Laughter,  it  is true, is a great turn-off. There is no medium as industrially  unfunny  as  pornography, where irony and nuance are undiscovered countries.  But,  if  one  thinks  about  coitus objectively, there really is nothing funnier than  watching  two  (or  more)  desperately sweaty animals go at it. Sex is slapstick and fellatio is farce. Though,  as  I  say, nothing  is  a  greater turn-off  than  laughter.  I  discovered  this on one of those rare nights that I decided to take a guy home. I don’t have the balls 
to  talk  to  people  unless  I’m  apocalyptically  intoxicated  and,  thankfully, people will  rarely  proposition  someone  who’s incapable  of  standing.  And  so,  consequently,  casual,  stranger-sloppy  sex  is  a rarity.  Not  this  night. I  had  actually  met someone;  we  had  hit  it  off,  and  then  had commenced the usual mating ritual: first dancing, then eyeing, then getting closer, then exchanging saliva. He was pretty and charming (antonyms of my physique and character)  and  he  aroused  me.  I  was  extremely aroused. I even left the club early and  forfeited  another  drink,  knowing that I rarely performed well even without alcohol and hours of mental and physical preparation.  Well,  reader,  he  came  back to mine, and we got naked (this is usually when the dread kicks in – all those fluids!) and  –  good  lord!  –  I had  maintained  my erection!  This  was  unusual,  but  there  it was: mighty and defiant. Buoyed, I felt the dread and disgust dissipating. Could this be it? Could I actually begin to have enjoyable  sex?  Well  we  climbed  into  bed, the condom was fitted, and I was ready to dock. And  then  the  laughter.  I began  to  giggle and guffaw. Without the fog of dread and nausea, my mind was free to think of sex from a purely objective perspective. What had  once been  tragedy,  was  now  utter farce. To think of two nude frames snaking 
around each other, squirting a pustulant white  fluid  into  or  onto  each other and then  sucking  perhaps  the  most  hideous object in the known universe – well, I can’t think of any higher comedy. And so it was with  cackling  that this  little  adventure ended.  My  amour  departed,  my  pilaster softened, and normality returned. Thank heavens…