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Plan9 · 02-24-2009, 07:42 PM

Story time, chitlins... gather 'round:

Hmm, I think the hot-hot sex animal sex, much like the mythical werewolf, only appears when the atmosphere is just right for it to have maximum impact. For me, it often involves being blindsided by a do-it-to-me look from a sultry partner when I'm distracted with something else. It's like getting ambushed by a flank attack initiated by a pants-piercing lust bazooka. It also requires you're alone or near an area where you can have privacy for doing the deed... not too many couples throw down in public.

A good example of this was had at Fort Bragg sometime mid-'05. My platoon had just finished an absolutely awful yet badass field training exercise (cold rain, followed by more cold rain for a week) and we were having a pretty Viking barracks party (beer, grilled meat, someone's car pulled up on the grass blasting music, T-shirts optional) with my then-girlfriend-later-more woman. It doesn't take much for me to get fuzzy, so I was bumping chests and telling tall tales like everybody else after my third Bud Light. Girlfriend was socializing with various half-drunk paratroopers and giving me looks that I couldn't quite decode. This isn't rare... around women, I'm dense like uranium most of the time.

The combination of the booze and the music and a bunch of sweaty guys yelling and telling war stories had her fired up like something off the Discovery Channel. At one point I went over and scooped her up (trying to imitate Godzilla) and she leaned over my shoulder and whispered, "I'm going to need you to take me upstairs and fuck me. Right now." Whew. Yeah, and you'd never seen a half-drunk honky push a girl up two flights narrow concrete stairs as fast in your life. By the time we hit the door, I had a leg snaked my waist, my shorts undone, and close to working on a boob with my mouth. Luckily I was Corporal Crompsin by then and had a room to myself. There was no conversation, we were a knot of tongue and hip-thrusts and I'm pretty sure that every North Carolina sodomy law was broken in the first iteration alone. I'd like to thank Equate personal lubricant for providing such smooth sailing.

I was made fun of the rest of the week for the screams that emanated from that concrete box. I had scratches on my back and neck like some wildcat had mauled me. It was the kind of sex where you walk funny even after you wake up from your two hour nap.

...

That's totally how ya do it. In the words of Sergeant Charles Caudill, that's the standard, dawg. There isn't ever any plan for really hot sex (it's a surprise)... simply the right combination of elements coming together and... KABOOM... spontaneous combustion.

02-24-2009, 07:42 PM	#23 (permalink)
Plan9 I Confess a Shiver	Story time, chitlins... gather 'round: Hmm, I think the hot-hot sex animal sex, much like the mythical werewolf, only appears when the atmosphere is just right for it to have maximum impact. For me, it often involves being blindsided by a do-it-to-me look from a sultry partner when I'm distracted with something else. It's like getting ambushed by a flank attack initiated by a pants-piercing lust bazooka. It also requires you're alone or near an area where you can have privacy for doing the deed... not too many couples throw down in public. A good example of this was had at Fort Bragg sometime mid-'05. My platoon had just finished an absolutely awful yet badass field training exercise (cold rain, followed by more cold rain for a week) and we were having a pretty Viking barracks party (beer, grilled meat, someone's car pulled up on the grass blasting music, T-shirts optional) with my then-girlfriend-later-more woman. It doesn't take much for me to get fuzzy, so I was bumping chests and telling tall tales like everybody else after my third Bud Light. Girlfriend was socializing with various half-drunk paratroopers and giving me looks that I couldn't quite decode. This isn't rare... around women, I'm dense like uranium most of the time. The combination of the booze and the music and a bunch of sweaty guys yelling and telling war stories had her fired up like something off the Discovery Channel. At one point I went over and scooped her up (trying to imitate Godzilla) and she leaned over my shoulder and whispered, "I'm going to need you to take me upstairs and fuck me. Right now." Whew. Yeah, and you'd never seen a half-drunk honky push a girl up two flights narrow concrete stairs as fast in your life. By the time we hit the door, I had a leg snaked my waist, my shorts undone, and close to working on a boob with my mouth. Luckily I was Corporal Crompsin by then and had a room to myself. There was no conversation, we were a knot of tongue and hip-thrusts and I'm pretty sure that every North Carolina sodomy law was broken in the first iteration alone. I'd like to thank Equate personal lubricant for providing such smooth sailing. I was made fun of the rest of the week for the screams that emanated from that concrete box. I had scratches on my back and neck like some wildcat had mauled me. It was the kind of sex where you walk funny even after you wake up from your two hour nap. ... That's totally how ya do it. In the words of Sergeant Charles Caudill, that's the standard, dawg. There isn't ever any plan for really hot sex (it's a surprise)... simply the right combination of elements coming together and... KABOOM... spontaneous combustion. __________________ *Whatever you can carry.* "You should not drink... and bake." Last edited by Plan9; 02-24-2009 at 10:50 PM..