Adding a little humour in the bedroom can boost the pleasure level sky high. There can never be too many endorphines flooding the system. There are naysayers however. I've even had it backfire on me more than once.
I recall a scenario from a few years back. I thought my little comic precurser to oral sex to be inspired and hilarious. She thought otherwise. I'll leave it to your wisdom to decide for yourselves:
“This is air rescue six. The flood waters have breached the shore and the canoe is submerged. Nine Island is deluged. I can still see the little man though. I’m willing to die down there. I can’t stop myself, I’m going in. I’ve got to save him!”
I found that highly amusing and quite clever especially considering it occurred to me right off the top of my head. I’ve always said there is no reason to pass up the opportunity for a little laugh. Laughter is the sweet viscous oil lubricating a dry and humorless world.
My date didn’t find it amusing. I suppose she didn’t find my suggestion to, “Look into the eye of the dragon and despair” amusing either, but I mistook her mumblings for giggles. Believe it or not, she got up, dressed and left without so much as goodbye. Shock would be an understatement.
An obviously aroused woman, a man with a cool and spontaneous sense of humour … what the hell else could anyone ask for? I guess she just couldn’t handle the pressure of understanding the metaphorical nature of the joke. I thought it obvious myself. But, it happens, it happens.
Maybe she simply didn’t appreciate a good laugh. Who needs a chick with no sense of humour?
I recall the heady times trying to make an earthling with my wife back in the day. Wow, talk about Shangri La for a dude! Sex on demand, no games, no foreplay, no cuddling, indeed, my presence afterwards consisted of stacking pillows to elevate her baby making machinery and then getting my worthless self lost. Finally, agreement had been reached on the significance of after play.
Oh those mornings when I’d awaken to find her with furrowed brow and ovulation chart, a thermometer, or miniature phallus as I liked to think of it, standing at intention in her mouth. She’d pull it and scrutinize it closely, and either roll over back to sleep, or make that sexy come hither announcement, “It’s time.”
Cue music, heavy on the bass. Sing it Barry, it’s going to be one of those mornings. Mmm. How’s that baby? I’d think things like that to myself as she continued graphing the event and immortalizing it on paper. She wasn’t shy either. She’d cry out in ecstasy, “Are you done yet? Hurry up.” Yeah, baby, I feel ya, quicken the pace. She even sang Row, Row, Row Your Boat one time. OH, MAMMA, Daddy’s rowin’ and the shore is in sight. Chicca bow wow!
It’s time to let it all hang out guys; stop biting those tongues. Let the wit begin. Believe me the ladies are hot to hear it. Sure, you’ll lose some gals over it. Many women are hopelessly indoctrinated by a humorless society. I know such women. I’ve had them run from my bed yelling, “Go to hell, you damn freak! Who the hell tells jokes when they’re about to have the time of their lives? Good luck ever getting laid, you moron.” Boy, if I had a dollar for every time I heard those words …
I know they’ll wake up one morning and chortle or they’ll be with that special someone and start howling with laughter. I won’t be around to thank. But it’s okay, ladies, I already know.
The key here is to be yourself; It has to be spontaneous. Sure, I could tell you the perfect time to bust out with Old Man River. I could give you pointers on when a discussion of the gravitational pull of a black hole might bring peels of orgasmic yucks. But, see, you’re not me and they’ll feel that.
“From hell’s heart I stab at thee. For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee.” I never did see her again.
But what a sweet memory.