Say Hello To My Little Friend

         The phrase “turn around and bend over” is one that most men would prefer to go through life without hearing. In fact I’m confident if you went back through the history books you’d struggle to find many men who’ve has obeyed this command without seriously regretting it in the morning, or adopting a monumental lifestyle change. Unfortunately, in the bedroom, no one is higher on the obedience scale than the man who hasn’t had sex for a while, which incidentally, puts the man who hasn’t had sex at all somewhere between a gimp and a Labrador.

            

        Thankfully however, this not my story, which means it’s probably not really my story to tell. But I found it a valuable lesson on the levels of personal sacrifice that you can justify to yourself in the pursuit of sex. So I’m going to tell it anyway.

            

         The build-up to this particular incident looks fairly mundane on its own, and pales considerably in comparison to the incident itself so I’m not even going to bother describing it. Suffice it to say that the housemate in question (who will remain nameless) had managed the admirable achievement of pulling a really very attractive third year girl on Monday night, and had jumped at the chance to go home with her. I remember standing open mouthed in  the smoking area that overlooks the entrance to the club and watching as he accompanied her to the taxi, making a point of saying goodnight to everyone he recognized in the hope that they’d see who he was going back with.

           

          He left the club looking like a dog with a new toy, tail wagging, tongue hanging out, mere inches from cocking his leg over her to mark his territory. So you can understand my jubilation upon seeing him walk through the front door only hours later looking like he’d just seen his granny in a retro porn film. As it transpired this third year girl had slightly more planned for their evening of lustful passion than my housemate had imagined, and after the usual foreplay had run its course and my housemate must have considered his lad points as good as in the bank, she uttered those chilling words.

            

           He says he thought about it for a second or two, but like I said, being on a bit of a dry spell himself I imagine the thought process was fairly short; This girl might have sex with me... ‘How far would you like me to bend over?’  He recounted the story to me in much the same manner you might expect a hostage to describe the events of their incarceration. His eyes really did tell the story, and I imagine his backside had a pretty compelling version of events as well, as he refused to sit down.

            

           It seems he’d had the pleasure of being introduced to a personal acquaintance of the girl but the introduction was not made face to face. Without wanting to get too graphic it sounds like it would take an impressively sturdy jewellery box to contain these particular beads and one would be remiss in wearing them in public.

            

            My housemate never got the fairy tale ending to his almost perfect story, but did come home feeling ever so slightly more like a fairy.