
Good in bed used to mean props, loud music, lots of giggling, oils, massaging, a trapeze maybe some midgets, some villagers and hours upon hours of excitement.
As you get older the term, “good in bed” takes on a whole new meaning.
I remember never caring how I was going to get home..it could have been 2 AM way on the other side of town, no means of getting home…
It just didn’t matter cause this girl was drunk and great in bed…and that was good enough for me. I would worry about the details later.
The only details I concerned myself with were the designs on her panties. But even then, she wouldn’t have her panties on long enough for me to even notice. So let’s get on with it…
You find yourself clear on the other side of town. It’s going to be at least a 60$ cab ride to get home. But none of this matters…You are focused. Like a Samurai warrior, you never let your eyes or thoughts wander…Dracule…she will be yours soon.
Your eyes are filled with anticipation…and that’s about it, because all your blood is now flowing into your lower extremities. When the two of you let loose at each other, it’s like Hyenas playing over day old road kill. Legs swinging everywhere, you’re sweating, scratch marks abound music is blaring… you are determined to be the absolute best this chick has ever had.
You push yourself. No time to rest. This is what you have practiced for. All those used Kleenex your mom had to scrape off the wall because you always missed the trash and were too lazy to get out of bed and pick them up yourself…all the tubs of Vaseline you went through…it’s all coming together in a haze of lights, incense and lube.
Hours have passed. You have accomplished your mission. You are exhausted, she is satisfied. You have chewed off your arm to get out of her bed. You are now free.
It’s just gonna cost you 60$ in cab fare and a night of promising yourself that next time you’ll use a condom. But hey, you have proven yourself. You are the man. The Stud…now only if the cab driver spoke English…
As age hunts you down like a dog, your priorities shift. Oh sure, you still always think about sex, that never goes away. It’s how you procure it that changes. It’s how hard you work at it that changes. As you get older sex is a simple release, a hug and a good night sleep. At 35 you are no longer interested in, spending 60$ on cab ride at 4 AM to get home from some skank’s house wondering if your dick is about to fall off.
At 35, you’d much rather sit back have a quick toss and get on with your day. At 35 you are no longer interested in trying to prove yourself as the “world’s greatest lover” to every girl that is in sniffing distance. If you are, then it’s time to re-evaluate your priorities. At 35 you take great pleasure in knowing your partner is willing to turn over for a quickie whenever you feel the urge.
You no longer need loud music, loud determination, scratches, hickies, surprises, bells and whistles. Sure, you’ll want a few bells now and again, but it no longer drives you as much as you drive it.
Enjoy all your youthful adventures. One day you’ll look back and be amazed at all the crazy things you did just to get laid. You’ll smile cause it was all worth it.