Sex is a Contact Sport: Wear Protective Gear!

Sex is a glorious, beautiful act of pleasure. Or in the famous words of George Michael, pop star extraordinaire, “Sex is natural/sex is good/not everybody does it/but everybody should”. Still, it can have its hazards. Oh, of course there are the obvious dangers of disease and unwanted pregnancy. Still, the protective gear to which I refer is not the sort that would protect against babies and STDs.

Perhaps I and my partners over the years have simply been a bit too enthusiastic. It could be my sense of adventure that has led to some romantic misfires. Then again, I can’t discount simple clumsiness. Whatever the reason, the sex act has led to some odd and somewhat embarrassing injuries over the years. As I begin to list them out in my mind, I wonder if rather than lacy panties and scanty negligees, I should be suiting up in body padding and swallowing some ibuprofen beforehand.

Some “battle scars” from the act of love are fairly common: Love bites, soreness, or even the occasional handprint from an excited spank (of course, maybe that isn’t common to everyone!). Others are a bit more extreme or even bizarre.

The dismount is probably the most common injury I’ve suffered or inflicted during love-making. After talking with girlfriends, I know this, at least, happens to many couples. Enthralled in the act of thrusting, one small misjudgment of depth or speed can lead to moans of pain rather than pleasure. This can range from mild enough that you’re able to pick up the rhythm again almost immediately, to severe enough that the man rolls into the fetal position, moaning, and all activity ceases.

Then, of course, there are the objections that my body has given to the bending and contortions that are often required. Leg cramps are an awkward and not very sexy thing to explain to your man when he is on top of you. Of course, so is discreetly trying to stretch out your leg or give it a good shake to get the muscle to unclench. Not to mention the fact that sometimes, if my legs are in a certain position and tensed for a long time, I find myself having a hard time getting them OUT of that position. Another thing that doesn’t scream sex goddess is requiring a partner to assist you in un-bending your limbs.

The first time I attempted a strip tease, I somehow managed to get my erotically hiked leg entangled in the metal footboard on the bed. My ass, as well as my vanity, was left bruised from that experience. Although I have managed to pull it off since that initial attempt, I still have a slight twinge of apprehension. I call it my Stripper Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (SPTSD)

Once, at the moment of orgasm, I involuntarily head-butted my partner in my excitement. We laughed about it afterwards, but the red bump on both our foreheads was not what you typically expect to walk away with. I’ve talked with girlfriends about elbows in the face, fingers in the eyes and all other manner of unintended injuries during love-making.

Still, these are all somewhat explainable and in no way border on the bizarre. Sometimes, things can get a little frisky in a very wrong way…

Like the time that my lover was bringing me pleasure. So much pleasure that right at the moment of climax, he decided to put an intense finale on it. I shrieked a bit during the sharp pain, yet it quickly blended into other sensations and I thought nothing of it. However, nothing takes the glow off post-coital bliss like having your lover point out, with great concern, that there is blood all over the bed. To his chagrin and my embarrassment, we assumed that my monthly visitor had arrived in an untimely way. The next morning, however, I was still bleeding. The source of the bleeding, as well as some soreness, made me question the initial diagnosis of menstruation. So I decided to do what any concerned woman would do: I got a mirror. As I bent and twisted and turned to try to figure out what was wrong with my body, I suddenly spotted what appeared to be a tiny wound, right near my happy place. It was still bleeding slightly. I thought back to the night before and the sharp pain, the blood on the sheets. Suddenly, the room began to spin; I woke up several minutes later on my bathroom floor. What can I say? I don’t handle blood (or my delicate parts being bitten) well!

I’m not completely certain, but it may be the only time anyone has ever passed out from oral sex.

In time, I recovered from the vampiric cunningulus. Enough so, that one day I decide it is time to spice things up with my lover. So I drive my soccer mom van to the local sex shop, to peruse the “marital aids” and see what catches my eye.

I pass up some of the scarier items (I couldn’t see my lover indulging in anal beads or wearing a gimp mask) and head to the lotions and oils. While there, I spot something called “The Magic Stick”. Intrigued, I pick it up and begin to read the back. The “Magic Stick” claims to retighten certain body parts with natural herbs, thus bringing increased pleasure to both partners. It also claims to be a technique used in Asia for hundreds of years. Pondering, I finally shrug and throw it in the cart.

I follow the directions, and then wait for the magic to happen. I can definitely tell it is working; there is increased sensation! However, other than having a harder time actually having sex (maybe THAT explains the increased sensation), I can’t say that either of us are overwhelmed with the “Magic Stick”. I continue to notice, however, throughout the evening, that everything down there still feels…different. The next morning, after my lover has gone, I go to the bathroom. I feel very swollen. Exploring with fingertips, I discover to my great fascination (and a bit of horror) that everything “down there” is swollen…shut! I literally cannot even explore my own body! Trying not to panic, I continue to go and…ahem…probe, all throughout the day. My nether region remains sealed tightly shut. The only “magic” this stick had worked would be the kind that ultra-religious parents might favor, because absolutely nothing was getting in there. After about thirty-six hours, my nether region returned to normal and I breathed a sigh.

I suppose it only makes sense that with two bodies coming together, moving apart, changing positions (sometimes rapidly), and reacting to some incredibly intense sensations…well, sometimes mishaps occur. Adventure can have mixed results; any contact sport worth playing has potential for hazard. For now, I think I’ll skip the protective gear and continue to play with an appropriate amount of caution. Watch the arms and legs, try to avoid knocking out your team players, and watch the teeth. Above all else, avoid inserting things that are advertised as an “Ancient Chinese Secret”.

2 Responses to “Sex is a Contact Sport: Wear Protective Gear!”

  1. Another great post! Keep up the awesome writing!

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