Cocktail Nights & Helicopter Rides…

***Warning***
If you have a limited sense of humour, are easily offended by private sex talk, or you don’t want to visualise my husband’s bedroom antics then please retreat now! Turn around slowly and don’t look back! You can never unsee this!!! P.S. if you are friends of my hubby I have permission on this over-share, I swear!***

Quite a few years back at a girls-only cocktail party, after a few hours of free-flowing drinks, we inevitably began talking about our sex lives, our husbands or partners needs, desires and foreplay styles. Now before you think ‘Shock, Horror!’ public discussions of private sex lives let me first explain that I have an amazing group of girlfriends where we are comfortable enough to discuss anything and everything! Nothings off limits and I mean nothing! What’s a girls night in without this conversation cropping up at some stage and just a little playful man bagging?!!

So in between lady-like sips of Strawberry Daiquiris and man-like shots of Cocksucking Cowboys, there was plenty of “Oh yeah well my husband wants it all day and all night” and a great deal of “He slaps/gropes my butt/boob and thinks that’ll get me in the mood” and the odd confession of “Actually I’m the one begging for it!” I can guarantee the latter wasn’t me, but somedays I really, really wish it was!!

All of these admissions were said in good humour of course, and we all went home to our husbands and partners that night and may or may not have booze shagged them – which they totally loved – mine at least.

By the time that it was my mouth opening up, I was relatively merry. I had decided to share intimate details of my husband’s idea of foreplay. And so this is it…

He’s showered (tick), he’s smelling great (tick), he walks into the bedroom naked (tick), then things start to go pear-shaped or perhaps banana-shaped from there?? Sorry, not sorry. Then he does this specialised movement.

Let me explain it as best as I can – feel free to follow the directions but make sure no-one can see you doing as it is highly (un)likely they may want to jump your bones. You’ve been warned!

Put both hands on your hips.

Start circling them around, your hips that is – any direction is fine.

Now imagine you’re a man (if you’re not already) and that the ‘other thing’ is also circling – kinda like really unattractive helicopter blades – except there’s’ only one and you’re the helicopter.

Then through in some winks. Some “Yeah, you know it”s and then a few lip bites.

And THEN, the icing on the cake, slap that imaginary “helicopter blade” on the bedpost, wink and ask “How ’bout it?”

TRUE STORY!!!

So once I’ve wiped away my tears of laughter, I can finally and honestly answer him with “You’re fucking dreaming!” And of course he has a laugh too – coz its not really his mating call … or is it.

On finishing my story to my girlfriends (with a fully clothed demonstration as above), everyone was in tears of their own and holding the pain in their bellies from laughing. I was feeling much better for getting it off my chest.

The next day I broke the news to my husband that I’d shared his top-secret moves expecting him to be completely mortified (at this stage I was blaming the drink). Yet, his chest puffed out like a peacock, and I was terrified I was going to have sit through another helicopter ride!

Thankfully since then we’ve bought a new bed that doesn’t have bedposts, and yes this mating call was firmly in my mind while we were shopping – “Oh no sorry Mr Salesman I can’t possibly buy that bed, my husband might slap his helicopter on the copper bedposts!”

If you had a laugh – you’re welcome.
If you are mortified for my overshare – just be thankful that you’re not the one who bought our bed…

L.D. ||

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