Last month an article on the website Health.com touted “Getting Risky” as one of the best ways to have a truly phantasmagorical orgasm. The article suggested couples try hiking in precipitous climes as the kind of risk one might take in order to have an orgasmic whopper.
Unfortunately, all this brought to mind for me was the recent story of a disgruntled bride who promised her new husband “a surprise” while they were hiking and proceeded to push him off a cliff to his death. I suspect there were no orgasms involved in that particular jaunt.
Then one can’t help but think of Monica Bellucci’s orgasm with Clive Owen in Shoot ‘Em Up, which he managed to bestow upon her whilst shooting eight armed assassins. I’ve discussed this possibility with my husband Henry and while he’s certainly capable, he just felt the body count was too high.
But I can’t dismiss this risky sex tip out-of-hand. Since the onset of the Child Plague my sex with Henry has been confined to our bedroom after (we hope) our kids are asleep and then, just like Elmer Fudd, we have to be vewy vewy quiet. Which often leads to Zzzzzzz.
So one night, not too long ago, I decided to take charge of the situation by hiring a babysitter to surprise my husband after the girls’s soccer practice (no, not that kind of surprise, you naughty swingers), by giving him a note from me that told him to meet me at the lounge in the Avalon Hotel for drinks. Oh. “And we don’t know each other.”
What ensued was an incredibly sexy “first date” between “Paul” and “Crystal.”
We got off to a rocky start when Paul decided we’d both been in the porn industry. But we somehow managed to get past it. Crystal had used her earnings as an adult performer to get her two sons through school (even if they think she’s their sister, not their mother) and Paul eventually left the producing end of the business to invest in the stock market.
He’d also had an interesting, but painful childhood wherein his father had been one of the first blimp pilots, which was fun, the only trouble being he had a “blimp girl” in every “blimp port,” whom Paul referred to as the “Blimpees,” which spelled disaster for his parent’s marriage.
After dinner Paul and Crystal found their way to a very risky locale to have sex. Which was the back of their minivan parked on Beverly Drive at 11 p.m. on a Thursday. The whole time (at least three minutes) they feared they’d be busted by Beverly Hill’s finest. Which made for the Best. Orgasms. Ever.
So, what risky business will you try? Don’t be shy, the story you tell may help someone else. And go…!