“I feel like doing something really crazy, like… having sex on the Beach with you…” says She to me. I spared that suggestion just a micro second, before I replied: ” Me, I want to do crazier things with you than you can imagine”. My imagination shifted into an overdrive mode as I say that. Still images and motion pictures deserving of Oscars, if the day ever comes when pornography wins the award, played through my mind in a crazy-fast reel. The discomfiting bulge of rising turg in My DownThere reminded, me like an emergency alarm, of how long is too long in 12 months of playing celibate.

Define horny again for me. But she had to douse the rising inferno in my core, and put a “stop it!” sign on my re-energized zeal to pick up from where I left off sowing my wild oats. Her next reply did it for me.

She asked: “crazier things like what…?” My on-rushing testosterone screeched to a rubber-burning halt. Logic relocated back to my head, away from my groin. The logicality of rational-thinking hedged out the irrational propensity to think only in erotic symbols. The bubble burst and the cloud cleared as I analyzed the purport of her last reply. And that was only one part of her very emasculating question; the other part went thus: “…having sex while diving from the top of Mount Everest?”

I have never, since my born-day, been to any mountain greater that the breast of a woman. A beach, I am familiar with, having sex on one, even if it is the over-crowded Bar Beach of Lagos, is imaginable. But Everest? Isn’t that more Geography than Anatomy? Anatomy, I know, but wetin concern Geography with getting laid? No go there o! unless na story You dey find.

But, on a saner note, Bungee Sex could be worth exploring o! One may Just discover a fourth dimension to sex, and extreme sports, abi?


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