When it comes to sex, I often fall on the ecru side of vanilla, but even I have found an easy way to let my freak flag fly, without having to enter the Red Room of Pain.
It’s all about location, location, location; specifically, your car.
Not sure how to take your Friskymobile to Carnal Town? Creative car sex is as easy as A,B,C.
Always have your sexy time INSIDE the car. You might think, “Hey, if the flag is flying, I might as well indulge in that Tawny Kitaen fantasy, right?” No, friend. You don’t want to do that. The hood of a car is as cold, hard and unforgiving as Stalin when he’s hangry. Plus, between knees, asses, and the weight of the beast with two backs, there is an excellent chance you’ll dent the shit out of the hood.
You may not be thinking about car repair when the sweet trumpet of lust is playing, but you’ll wish you had once you’re shelling out hundreds of dollars to get your hood fixed. And when you end up paying for the joy of that mediocre sex, you’ll wish you had ponied up for a high-priced hooker instead.
Bucket seats are a bad idea. Think of it; you’re climbing out of one seat, on the arduous trek to Mount Horny and you slip, trip and fall in the middle. Nothing kills a lady boner faster than a gear shift to cervix. NOTHING. You can recover from the occasional rimshot, but having your taint rammed by that rounded shaft? Oh, hell no.
Come to a complete stop. I have a … friend … who thought it would be the bees knees to mount her man WHILE HE WAS DRIVING. Because sex isn’t interesting enough without throwing some death-defying stunts into the mix. I mean, if you have to go, you might as well go in the heat of an orgasm, right? Although that might be a hard one to explain at the Pearly Gates.
St. Peter: So… what were you doing when the car crashed?
Girl: Just a little reverse cowgirl, sir.
St. Peter: Are you going to do that in here?
Girl: Maybe.
Let’s avoid that mortification by keeping your cowgirl in check, hm?
Damn, girl. No need to toot your own horn. Literally. Take the good times to the passenger seat, or even better, the backseat. Not unless your goal is to draw in every pervert, cop, and porn director to your vehicle with the rhythmic sound of your ass honking the horn and leg thrusts triggering the brights. You’ve unintentionally created an impromptu rave, and if you don’t have a DJ and a few bottles of booze, looks like you are the only entertainment for the evening.
Enjoy it! This is the last and best piece of advice. I mean, you’re getting laid after all, and that is always a good thing.
(This post originally ran on Ponies and Martinis)
