Everyone has a favorite fantasy sex scenario. It’s the one you masturbate to (stop pretending you don’t), the one you imagine happening on your honeymoon, and the one you use to get off when his floppy whiskey dick just isn’t doing the job. Sadly, though, almost every attempt at actually performing your fantasy turns out to be tragic–or just plain weird. Here are some more lifelike descriptions of how your fantasies turn into failures (inspired by some of my own, of course).
In this fantasy, your partner picks you up after a heated round of pre-shower sex, carries you to the bathroom while still managing to furiously make out, turns on the steaming water, and rams you like a jackhammer against the dripping bathroom tile. However, in real life, shower stalls are smaller and more slippery than in your most intimate of dreams. You’re also a tad heavier, and he’s a lot less muscular. If you think for a second that he’s going to hold your slippery self up and still manage to penetrate your body while not falling and/or dropping you, you might as well both join the circus as acrobats. Even if he manages to somehow pull this off, you can’t forget about that stream of piping hot water shooting directly into your eyes. How the hell are you supposed to look sexy with your makeup running and your eyes twitching like a freaking loon? And let’s not leave out the shower curtain. It’s best you bolt that baby to the wall, or it’s going to come crashing down. I say we leave the aquatic sex attempts to those biology intended it for: marine life and synchronized swimmers.
Sex On The Beach
It sounds great, right? The sun is setting on the most beautiful scenery you could dream of. The waves crash on the shore. No one is around for miles. Seagulls float by in the distance. Palm trees sway in the breeze. HA! Are you kidding me? It’s more like a midnight escape from your hotel room to the dark, cold, thrashing waves. The sand is wet and gross, and it finds its way into every crevice of your body. You’re trying to be quiet so the night patrol doesn’t catch you stark naked, rolling around in the sand. Off in the distance, the boardwalk bustles with people you hope aren’t able to see or hear you flopping around in the ocean as if you’re getting attacked by a shark. At this point, you’re more likely to turn into a mermaid than have an orgasm. Again, let’s just leave this up to the critters of the ocean.
Making Love Under The Stars
I mean, it doesn’t get much more romantic than spending a night with your man in the rugged wilderness, where you can hear nothing but the soft sounds of crickets chirping and firewood cracking in the background. In this fantasy, after making you a perfect, freshly caught dinner, your cowboy takes you away to the little tent he set up earlier. He’s so romantic, isn’t he? Pfffffft! In real life, this is a monstrosity. Bugs are everywhere. Dirt is everywhere. The bathroom is nowhere (or everywhere, depending on how you look at it). He might be thinking about trying to get in your pants, but all you can think about is your warm, comfy bed waiting for you all alone at home.
For whatever reason, pretending to be someone else during sex is a thing. It’s almost like you’re saying, “I’d like to fuck this person instead of you, so how about we all pretend that’s who you are.” There are a ton of different scenarios that we’ve come up with, most of which are available in some sort of pornographic film: the fireman and the damsel in distress, the police officer and the naughty criminal, Santa and some hot housewife, some random hot guy and a slutty Playboy bunny. We’ve all at least given some role playing scenario a thought. I feel like it’s something most people secretly want to try but are too shy to actually do. For example, one time, no joke, my boyfriend drunkenly slipped and called himself Jesse Pinkman during sex. Jesse FUCKING Pinkman. The guy who says “bitch” after literally every sentence. Granted, we had been binge watching “Breaking Bad” on Netflix, but still. I have to admit it was kind of a turn on–mostly because I was a chemistry major–but it was still really weird. Did he want me to pretend to be his heroin-addicted lover? Or did he want me to play the good girl with the son? I paused for a second and then continued thrusting as if nothing had happened. I could have dodged a major bullet or missed out on the best sex of my life, but I’ll never know. I’ll just leave the acting up to the professionals..