Mirodenia: I think sex is to be done not to be spoken about.
Once upon a time, a friend and I were on the island of Kos. We were to spend two weeks there. My friend was a proper looker, and a charmer. Whenever we went out, women flocked around his bar stool, always in a good mood, he was, with a contagious laugh.
I didn’t have to struggle too much to pull me a puma, but he was the undisputed middle weight champion.
We were in our mid 20’s. Both of us single, always together, always out for the party. It was a time in life when we would taste as many a flavor the Olympic gods had put on offer.
After a week on Kos, my friend hadn’t managed to pull a single one. It was very unusual, and he needed his horizontal mambo. He had to have it at least a couple of times a week or he started to climb walls. He had started to climb the wall at our hotel room.
Getting more and more grumpy, complaining, claiming that we must have arrived the weeks when there was a lesbian convention on the island.
I just laughed at him, teased him.
One evening, we went out to a club, it was packed, I mean, it was so dense with people, be you stood with a drink in your hand you would have three people between it and yourself. My mate had grown down right angry by this time. Women were dancing on the bar, and he would say: What’s the point watching them in their mini-skirts, it’s not like they want some.
I laughed so hard that day, due to his odd spell of loosing his cool.
I decided to continue mess with him. Stood watching something, don’t remember what, three beautiful, blond Norwegian girls passed by.
It was a reflex. I never did or have since done anything like it, but this was in the spirit of the moment, I wanted to mess with my friend, and somehow in an instant I did it, so as the last girl is passing, I gently take her by the arm, lean forward to her ear as to make myself herd over the loud music, and ask:
- Do you want to have sex with me?
She looks at me, smiles, leans towards my ear, and asks:
- Now?
I nod, and we leave, with my friend left there sporting that face towards me: Oh you bloody bastard, I’ll kill you when you come back.
Sometimes you have to talk about sex, or you won’t be getting any