Doing it doggie-style also has its pleasures and drawbacks. First of all, unless you have a real knowledgeable chick or a cock three feet long, she'll probably be jerking it out every few strokes. Secondly, this is one position where you almost have to keep it going in and out, which means that you might not last too long. Third, there's virtually no contact with the clit, except the indirect pulling it gets as you move, so you have to reach around and rub it with your finger, or have your girl rub it with hers. It's a great breast-feeling position, since the breasts are hanging straight down. Girls who enjoy it this way usually get their kicks from the feeling of being dominated, from being held from behind, from the strong, male grip on their hips, and the bestiality of the position, from being bumped and prodded, rather than from actual sexual sensation. It's okay for a few minutes, but I wouldn't want to do it that way all the time.
Face-to-face lying on your sides is a good position for resting, talking, and being able to feel each other completely. Again, you have to be careful to lie so you don't slip out all the tune. Also, depending upon whose leg is on the bottom, either the man or the woman will have at least one numb and tingling limb before too long. This can be avoided by the man putting both of the girl's legs on top of his, kind of like rear entry lying on your side. This puts the girl on her back, and the man lying on his side, next to her, with her legs over his.
Staying upright on your knees, having the girl lie on her side and bringing her upper leg onto your shoulder, then shoving it into her sideways is also pretty good; it allows you both to feel each other freely, and to watch it go in and out, which itself is a turn on.
Staying upright on your knees between your girl's legs and pulling her ass up in the air is also nice for a little while, for the same reasons; you both can touch and see what's going on. But if you have a girl who's a klutz, supporting her ass in your hands while trying to screw her can leave you winded and weak in no time at all.
After all that's been written about various positions and fancy fucking, there's still nothing to beat the plain old missionary position. It's intimate, it provides total feel of your partner's body, it allows you to kiss and love each other, it assures' the best contact with the clitoris for the girl and the best possibilities of endurance for the man. Assuming that the man isn't a complete clod, it's the most comfortable, and when either or both are having an orgasm it's the most satisfying by far. For human animals, it's the best position, and the one I prefer to use as much as I can. Anyway, the name of the game is making love, not proving versatility.
But there's another, more important reason. When most people start to make love they use this position naturally. Only after they have made love this way a number of times do they start to experiment with other positions. Think about this for a minute, because what it actually means is that they're getting bored with each other and seeking something to enhance their diminished excitement. At this point they have stopped making love and started playing a game, started trying to find new excitement to ease their sensual boredom with each other. I don't necessarily mean natural variations such as I've talked about, but am referring to the so-called exotic positions, where you're both twisted like a couple of unbaked pretzels. It's a shame, because it shows that what you originally had is gone. The love, the feeling, the nearness have been replaced by the capricious urge to experiment.
Old lovers and married people often reach this stage. Many people, bored with each other and seeking new forms to replace the honest passion they have lost, join swingers' groups, the Sexual Freedom League, or read books that tell you to keep a bowl of ice by the bed, so you can calmly shove a cube up your lover's ass as he comes. There are skyrocketing sales of sex lotions and balms for people who have lost (or who have never known) the wild sensuality of skin tenderly rubbing on skin. There are radio talk shows where girls phone in that they "do it" in tubs full of crunchy granola.
What they don't say is that they do it in Keri Lotion, or Jell-O, or oatmeal, because just doing it face to face for plain love doesn't excite them anymore.
And when the Jell-O and the ice cubes and the group sex also becomes boring, what then?
Chapter 6
It wasn't until I had lived with Mora for about three months that I really began to find out about her. To a kid my age it wasn't very nice. As the stars of first love began to leave my eyes and my head began to clear, I noticed things that had escaped me before.
Mora drank a lot of gin. At first she drank it mostly as martinis, but I noticed that she often just threw some ice into a glass filled with gin and slugged it down. If she was upset about something she would take the sauce right from the bottle, no ice, no nothing. I left early for school, but when I came back I saw the gin bottle on the bar, and an empty glass or two, which were liable to be anywhere around the house, so I knew that she was drinking in the morning before she left for work. When she returned home she would head directly for the bar and have one fast gulp of straight gin, followed by several leisurely martinis before dinner, and a couple more during the evening. Mora liked to dine out and taught me how to order for her, how to handle waiters, how to select wine, leave tips, and even proper table manners. She always had four or five martinis during the course of the evening, and a nightcap when we got home.
Yet she wasn't an alcoholic like the alkies I knew from the Tenderloin. She never took a bottle anywhere with her. As far as I knew, she didn't drink at work and never got up in the middle of the night for a quick one. If we were out for the day to someplace like the beach, where there were no drinks available, she didn't seem to miss it. Even so, she killed a fifth of Gordon every couple of days.
The booze usually made her irritable, and sometimes downright bitchy. When we were out she would get insanely jealous if I even looked in the general direction of another female over twelve or under fifty years of age. She would ask me bitterly if I would like to fuck this one, or get into that one's pants, and then she'd begin accusing me of screwing around on her and threatening to throw me out, reminding me loudly that everything I was, I owed to her. Her face turned hard and her soft, brown eyes became cold with fury. When she was like that she scared the hell out of me.
When we got home she'd apologize and we'd make love until we were both fucked out, and sleep in each other's arms. And in the morning she'd say it wasn't the booze that had made her that way; it was because she was about to get her period, or had just had it, or because she was upset at work the day before. I had been on the street too long; I knew a gin mad when I saw one. But the sauce wasn't her only problem.
Mora came home tired from working a fashion show one Saturday. I had a job to play that night and Mora said she hoped I wouldn't mind if she stayed home and rested.