Posts Tagged → Sex
Virtual Sex
My ex-housemate has a not-quite-legitimate copy of an Eastern-European sex game for Playstation, entitled Virtual Sex. The object of this game is to bring four women to orgasm by stimulating different erogenous zones in different ways, keeping up a steady pace while ensuring you don’t rush too far ahead. No one likes having who-knows-what crammed in their hoo-ha right off the bat, not even heavily pixelated pre-Soviet-Union-collapse slappers. While this is a reasonable simulation of sex, albeit a rather lo-fi one, the true game comes in getting this poorly-pirated piece of programming up and running.
As any self-respecting ‘naughties gamer with a ‘chipped’ Playstation will know, getting imported games (usually the most violent, sexed up and offensive ie fun ones, banned in little old Aus) going is a veritable game in itself.
First of all, you need to get ‘her’ in ‘the mood’ to spin the disc. This is easily done by putting in a regular Playstation disc and starting the console up, so it thinks you’re just having another bash at Gran Turismo. Once ‘she’ has slipped into this false sense of security you ‘pop the hood’, just as the PS logo appears and you hear that ‘swooshtinklebling’ sound bite. Virtual Sex in one hand (no pun intended), one deftly grabs the still spinning legit game and pulls the switcheroo. If you’ve timed this just right, the Playstation picks up where it left off and bam, you’re in a veritable harem of digital booty. Chances are, you haven’t timed it right, and suddenly you find yourself in a complex mating ritual of swapping spinning discs back and forth like the geeky Casanova you are, carefully timing your moves with the precise sights and sounds of a whirring piece of confused hardware.
So just like sex then, really.
Sealing the Deal: A Success Story
If you read Social Fumblings in Elle Dit, you will no doubt had a laugh at my somewhat tragic misadventures in trying to figure out the fairer sex. Despite the logical conclusions one might draw from such an article, I’m not a total failure in love and have done all right by myself over the years.
While ‘How to get dumped and remain single for 12 months’ covered the ins-and-outs of meeting a girl, getting a date, making a move etc, there were some other ‘ins-and-outs’ it didn’t cover, if you get my gist. That’s right: Sealing the deal. Going the Full Monty. Um, stealing fourth base. Read between the lines! Don’t worry; this isn’t going to be a pornographically graphic description of my Viking-like honour-roll of conquest (I wish!), but a practical guide to making that final, potentially doomed, move, and yes, it will be accompanied by the comical tales of misfortune you’ve come to expect from Social Fumbling.
Picture the scene. You’ve scored yourself a sweet hook-up on a night out/house party/bar mitzvah, and gotten them back to your/their crib/pad/digs (much like yourself right now, the scene is vague at best), you’re steadily working your way through the bases (see diagram below, courtesy of webcomic xkcd.com) and hit third, wherever that lies on your own sensual radar, and are eyeing off that final glorious home run. What next? This is delicate. Screw this up and it’s going to be a long awkward night ahead.
The Baited Trap
It is said that the meek shall inherit the earth. They never said anything about getting any. In some instances you can probably wait for them to jump you. If you’re a female, chances are you’ve been fending off attacks to your ‘maginot line’ at the club you met him at, the alleyway you passed, the McDonalds line you ordered food in and the twenty minute cab ride home, so you can probably get away with a mere lowering of the defences. If you’re a guy, this is probably less so. Not to generalize, but no girl wants to be thought of as ‘easy’ so it’s probably going to be up to you boys to buck up and do something before the third hour of dry humping gets a little old.
Verbal Confirmation and/or Written Notification
Okay, so maybe not quite that bureaucratic, if things are going the way you hope they are, this will probably work, if only for honesty and no-bullshittery points. There are however, ways to do this, and ways not to do this. While it may not be the most romantic or sensual thing, the gasping mid-pash request for a condom paints a pretty clear picture of what’s going on, at least in your mind. The awkward cry of “erm, uh, do you want to have sex? Cos’ I’m down with that” generally won’t carry too much weight, unless your newfound bunk buddy has a thing for British bank clerks. You could always go for written notification, that waiver just might get you out of some legal indemnity later on. If so, go for the full non-disclosure contract, y’know, just in case…
The Trouser-Plunge
When one moves, one should be bold and move with impunity, and so it goes in matters of the loins. Just because someone is happy to make out with you and even rub against you semi-clothed doesn’t mean that they want to go the whole way. Or maybe they do, but don’t want to risk losing dignity and appearing like a slut, man or woman alike. There is but one brutally direct way to show them what’s on your mind: Put their hand down your pants. It’s just crazy enough to work, and following a short survey of some of the drunker and less-dignified members of my social circle found that it does! Tallying up the stats and we found the thus dubbed ‘trouser plunge’ to be ONE HUNDRED PERCENT SUCCESSFUL!!!
Now I’m not condoning unwanted or unwarranted sexual assault, such behaviour not befitting everyone. But busting a daring move always has its place. I guess the thing to remember when you dive past that final catcher (and begin to run out of ‘base’ metaphors) is to do whatever feels natural, and be yourself whether that be a timid officious sort or a seafaring Casanova. But seriously. Their hand. Down your pants. Guys and girls. Guaranteed*.
*Not actually guaranteed.