Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Warning: Use Caution When Swinging from Chandelier

Rough sex. Acrobatic, adventurous, heart-pounding sex. Swinging from the chandeliers and shaking the rafters sex. Is there anything better?

Few things feel sweeter than that morning after, when the muscles are sore, skin aching from love bites and overeager hands, tender parts tingly with the aftermath. The morning after a good romp, even walking through the house feels sexy, as though I can still feel him between my thighs. Looking in the mirror makes me smile – my eyes are bright with sated passion, my lips are swollen from kisses, and my neck is sometimes covered with those little bites, delicious marks of his teeth.

Sometimes my wrists are red from handcuffs or scarves. Every now and then I will find a rug burn on my knee. Occasionally there will be a bruise somewhere else, perhaps on my hip or the inside of my thigh, where he held onto me while he was doing something decidedly naughty. Sometimes he gets marked with scratches of possession across his back.

From time to time, a rough-and-tumble play session becomes an extreme sport. Have you ever made love in the shower and then slipped halfway through a good thrust? Or used lotion all over your lover’s skin, only to be betrayed by slippery hands that almost let you fall to the floor when you reach to hold onto the headboard? What about losing all sense of direction and coming back down to earth – literally – when you fall off the edge of the bed?

There are dozens of stories about the leg cramp that made her hop out of bed while howling at the top of her lungs, or the moment he thrust a little too hard and missed the mark. There’s prolonged sexual play with popsicles or ice cubes, when your nether regions become so numb and tingly that you really can’t feel anything down there anymore, much less enough to have any sort of orgasm until things...well, heat up again.

Sometimes it’s just the opposite, and adventures in bed become a little too hot to handle. I’ve had the unfortunate experience of leaning too close to the candles – the sudden scent of singed hair was enough to dampen the mood. We put out the fire before the curtains caught, but I’m sure other couples through the years haven’t been so lucky. Can you imagine telling the fire chief exactly how your bedroom went up in flames?

Things sometimes go to extremes. We’ve all heard the snickering stories of foreign objects someone just happened to “fall on” and get lodged in some intimate part of their body. Some of those stories actually manage to make the news on a slow day. A little more common is the horror story of the time a guy reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle he thought was filled with lube. In the darkened bedroom, he didn’t notice the lube was really the Icy Hot until it was far too late...but simply writing that makes me cringe, so let’s not talk about that anymore, okay?

A good friend of mine once fooled around in a car with her husband, trying to recapture the feeling of her youth. Their playground was a secluded park while they got it on in the front seat (hey, the seats were heated! And they reclined!). One of them got too close to the gearshift, and somehow moved that stick from park to neutral. A good definition of true panic: A man with his pants down around his ankles, right on the verge of orgasm, happens to glance out the windshield and see the swiftly approaching shoreline of a massive lake.

Since my friend is alive to tell the story, her husband obviously managed to find the brake before things went over the edge, so to speak. Once the crisis was over, my friend laughed so hard, she cried. Her husband didn’t find it nearly as funny, and didn’t speak to her for a week.

My own “you can’t make this shit up” moment came when I woke up one summer morning to find that in addition to the little aches and pains of a night well spent, I also had these incredibly itchy spots all over my back and shoulders. I climbed into the shower – first thing anybody would do, right? – and it only got worse. So much worse, in fact, that when my lover called later that morning, I tried to play it cool but failed miserably.

“My back itches and I have little red dots on it and I don’t know what it is.”

I was met with the kind of silence that assured me he was trying hard not to laugh out loud.

“Go look under that magnolia tree,” he said.

I went straight of the house, across the back field and to the big tree in the corner, where we had made love the evening before. It was the most beautiful place, secluded and quiet, a soft carpet of green underneath a sweet-smelling tree. The moonlight had streamed through those leaves and turned his skin golden, almost making him glow. At the time, that was all I cared about – I hadn’t bothered to notice everything around us. What we thought was a benign place to take a tumble was filled with small, distinctive green leaves. One look in broad daylight answered all my questions. It was poison ivy.

Lesson learned: when getting frisky in the great outdoors, take a good look around you before you roll in the hay.

A tube of medication from my doctor and I was okay within a week. My lover laughed at me over that for months but he never got a single itchy spot, which serves to prove that there really is no justice in this world.

So far, I haven’t done anything even close to landing me in the Emergency Room, nor have I done anything so incredibly stupid I wouldn’t own up to it. I admit to the guilty pleasure of reading about the occasional bedroom mishap in a newspaper and snickering, all the while thinking that it couldn’t possibly happen to me, even as I know it very well could. Does anybody know of a sex toy shop that sells helmets for extreme bedroom sports?

Playful Cheers,


Sue A. said...

I wouldn't know poison ivy from ivy. Thanks for giving me a good laugh! The lesson I took from this story is that it's better/safer to be on top.

Ally said...

That was great Gwen.

There are dozens of stories about the leg cramp that made her hop out of bed while howling at the top of her lungs

I hate charlie horses and get them in my left thigh all the time. Instead of screaming from an orgasm and he's goin "It was that good eh?" "No I'm screaming because my muscle is about to snap!"

My horror story was when I was fucking some guy in a pool at 4am, (yes I was young, dumb and full of cum at one point) then floodlights came on, dogs came running out and some big guy comes out screaming his head off. He's a cop. Just my luck. He let us go, but I'll never forget having to try and get dressed sopping wet with two dogs barking at me and some big bear of a man getting an erection watching me get dressed.

Janine Ashbless said...

I find that as one gets older one has to be careful of one's back when giving blowjobs...

Portia Da Costa said...

Great stuff, Gwen! Both entertaining and cautionary... love it. :)

Olivia Knight said...

Two of my favourite injury-moments:
* Watching my lover repeatedly headbutt the brick wall, after he'd made the pleasure-pain calculation and decided it was better to keep thrusting, even though he was smashing his skull
* Waking up to find the white linen finely spattered with blood. I immediately assume it's mine and is distasteful, and feel mortified - then I see the long gash of missing flesh on my lover's back, about the width of my nail and length of my hand. Beg forgiveness for an hour then when I turn around to get up, he sees a matching - but much longer - scratch down my back. (We're actually talking missing flesh here) We both still have the scars.

Deanna Ashford said...

Really entertaining post, Gwen. The story about the poison ivy was amusing. Fortunately we don't have it here in the UK (as far as I know) so it would be quite safe to have sex here in a secluded garden.You are welcome to use mine anytime.

Unfortunately, judging by our current summer, you'd probably freeze your butt off at the same time.

Gwen Masters said...

I find that as one gets older one has to be careful of one's back when giving blowjobs...

Definitely. Certain positions let me know I'm definitely not eighteen anymore. -sigh-

Gwen Masters said...

I love the stories!

I left out the one about my ex-husband and the possessive cat, who had finally had enough of listening to us in bed and leapt from the high dresser onto his bare back. It was not pretty.

I teased him for years about the scars on his back that he got from someone else while he was in bed with me. -grin-

Anne Tourney said...

It was the most beautiful place, secluded and quiet, a soft carpet of green underneath a sweet-smelling tree. The moonlight had streamed through those leaves and turned his skin golden, almost making him glow.

I love the scent of magnolia . . . the spiciness of the leaves, combined with that heavenly, lushly sweet, lemony fragrance of the flowers.

Hey, I'd take full-body poison ivy for a night like that! What a beautiful scene.

I love to look at my marks the next day, too. Except I'm a bit of a spanking fetishist, so I can't usually see those marks without the help of a mirror. And at my age, I'm not much into looking at myself in mirrors from behind anymore :). Still, I love that soreness you described, that sense that your body (and your emotions, if the love is as intense as the sex) have been stretched to their limits.

Wonderful post, Gwen. I've been looking forward to this one -- what a treat!

Anonymous said...

Make sure the branch your swing is hanging from is strong enough to support all that thrusting too. Butt bone hitting the hard ground from a few feet in the air isn't pleasant. Ouch. I love the outdoors.

Jack Thomas said...

Hey all, had to chime into this one with a male POV.

So, back in my younger years I thought it'd be cool to take down my closet doors and put the head of my waterbed (Red satin sheets and all) into the closet, with the rest coming out into the room.

As you've probably already thought, yes...I left the bar that stretched across the closet. And yes, when I was lying down and she was on top, she found it quite useful. Except...

One day, things were getting a bit 'rowdier' than usual, and I guess those bars aren't completely secured.

Long story came down, and hard. She was on an 'upstroke' (if you will) so not only was she way off balance, but I wasn't completely inserted.

Her face slammed into the wall above my head, she came down sideways (I swore she had broke my dick), and finished it all by bringing the wooden bar down on my forehead with all of her weight and force from the serious fucking going on half a second earlier.

I've been in car accidents that hurt less.

I nearly passed out.

I bled.

I had a knot the size of Rhode Island on my forehead for a week.

And the worst part...

No orgasm. :(

t'Sade said...

I remember making out on the fold-out bed of our couch in the living room. Right in the middle of proper thrusting, the entire back end collapsed and we ended up finishing up half on the floor half on the bed. Cost us a couple hundred to get it fixed (the metal bent) but it was worth it. :)

Gwen Masters said...

And I thought I was bad about accidents in bed! Seems some of you deserve awards for survival during bedroom romps.

Jack did your lover come through the whole ordeal? You said her face slammed into the wall and then she fell...

Ouch, indeed!

t'sade...I've always been scared of fold-out couches. I have no basis for it other than a childhood fear that it would suddenly close up on me like a pair of jaws and trap me in the mattress. I guess it would be entirely possible if I were having sex on it.

Swinging from branches? Would love to! Would put the trampoline underneath it first, though...

Gwen Masters said...

Ever made love on a spinning merry-go-round? It's hard to make things fit where they are supposed to fit, but the real hazard is when you stand up, post-orgasm, your body humming and your head spinning...falling down is part of the fun.

You don't have to ask me how I know this.

Oh, Anne! Spanking fetish! The best spanking toys come from the kitchen. Spatulas, strainers, or big wooden spoons with a nicely carved cup, perfect for leaving the reddest marks.

Kate Pearce said...

Actually there are some hazards in an English country garden, or in my case, Epping Forest, (love playground of us Essex folk). Big Bugs that bite your bare bum so that you can't sit down for a week and splinters from the bark!!

great post Gwen.

My favorite story abouts lovers and the ER is about a friend of mine who was watching TV with her boyfriend-he had his head in her lap and she was eating peanuts. She managed to drop a chunk of peanut right down his ear canal necessitating a visit to the ER on a Saturday night and long forceps to extract the nut, destroying the mood!

Madeline Moore said...

Love the post, Gwen. I've been trying to remember a sex-related injury in my past and just cannot come up with one. Well, I guess there's the almost dislocated jaw...and the time we did, in fact, set the curtains on fire from the candles on a wicker stool...and of course there've been many, many 'morning afters', similar to the one you so beautifully describe in your post. Oh and I once, as woman on top, I fell forward and bashed my head into the stucco wall above my futon...('futon' being your clue that this was back in the day.) That one really did hurt, and brought the fun to and end, which was OK as it really should've ended earlier, we were just carrying on for the sake of carrying on.

Hmmm...I guess I do have a few such injuries and adventures, but none is a real knee slapper. I wonder, are Canucks a careful people?

I did read one in an excerpt from that terrible/marvelous book about 'funny ways in which people die'

A fellow decided to swoop into his girlfriend's bedroom, a la Tarzan, to surprise her. He came wooshing through the open bedroom window at the front of the room, but instead of dropping on top of her he kept going, out the open window at the back of the room and dropping to his death. What a way to go.

t'Sade said...


We treat the fold out bed in our TV room as the special place to celebrate our anniversary. I can tell you after 10 years of work, that bed will never swallow you. Break, yes. Swallow, no. :) Well, there was swallowing, but a different kind.

Ally said...

LMAO Jack,
That's priceless.
The only real injuries I can think of other than pride and yes, rug burns on ass, knees elbows etc...

Many years ago (many) when my kids were small and my husband and I went looking for an escape. About all we could afford at the time was a babysitter. So off we went to a nearby farmers field, with a blanket and a bottle of wine. Souther Ontario summers bring on those mosquitos. We ended up leaving after being devoured with in the 1st two minutes naked. I'm glad this was all pre- West Nile Virus days. We counted them up to over one hundred bites. The car was small but got the job done in the end.

PS. I hope some of you lusties come join Madeline and I tonight.

Gwen Masters said...

Mosquito bites! That might actually be worse than my bout with poison ivy.

Janine Ashbless said...

This is brilliant. Laughed till I cried (which is really mean of me, I guess...) Thanks, Gwen!

Just Craig said...

I fear I have little, except for scratches on the back, an occasional bump on the head (nothing like Jack's !) and charley horses from "advanced study" positions, to offer.

But I loved the post, Gwen, and enjoyed reading of the others who saw fit to show off their "battle" scars.

Great stuff.

Jack Thomas said...

Hehe, I realized after I posted that I had left that part out (such a man I am), she made out fairly ok, small bumps or bruises.

Gwen Masters said...

Thanks for all the great comments! I really enjoyed reading the stories of sex gone berserk. -grin-

Alison Tyler said...

Wow, I think I've gotten off easy... But for all of the walking wounded, here is something to heal the pain.


Olivia Knight said...

One of my friends was bouncing enthusiastically on top when suddenly they mis-timed their thrusts. She shot off the bed, across the room, and landed with a thump in the corner. Her bemused lover sits up, sees she's sprawled on the other side of the room, and says "What the fuck are you doing over there?"
The same enthusiastic friend, on a different occasion, wanted to kiss her other half passionately (while bouncing on top) - she lunged forward so hard she concussed herself on the cupboard above the bed.

Janine Ashbless said...

Which makes me think of...

"I like bouncing
Boing boing boing
Up and down until I get
A pain in my groin."

(Not the Nine O'clock News)