The Sexual Hills You'd Die Upon

"Missionary sex is little more than laying back while a guy does some awkward press-ups on top of you, all the while grunting and straining in your ear..."

“Nope, I won’t do it. I won’t let a guy fuck me if he’s still wearing his socks. I’d rather suffer his cold feet brushing against me than do the dirty with a guy already planning his exit strategy.”

There are few greater pleasures in life than having a thorough deep dive into sexual opinions of like-minded friends. Other than perhaps actually having sex, though that’s not always a guarantee.

Recently myself and a select group of friends found ourselves, as we so often do, deviating from the polite conversation of social norms and veering to those a rather more vulgar and sordid nature. In all honesty, it’s very rare for our conversations to *not* take such a detour. However on this occasion rather than simply discussing and analysing recent liaisons or reminiscing of some of the embarrassing ‘classics’, we landed into relatively newfound territory as we found ourselves strolling through the rich conversational terrain what we ultimately deemed to be our ‘Sexual Hills We’d Die Upon’.

Which, I’ll clarify immediately, was *not* a discussion as to who’s breasts we’d opt to be suffocated between.

There was no need for discussion on such a matter; the answer was obviously Lisa’s.

Instead, these were our individual lists of sexual opinions we held to be sacrosanct. Our ‘Fucking foundations’ which were so deep set and immoveable as to there being no possibility of ever having our minds changed.

The ‘sock issue’ quoted above was actually Zara’s. Her issues with guys wearing socks for sex actually ran far deeper than the somewhat pithy quote would suggest, and she spent some considerable time holding a robust argument against my casual point that ‘some women actually find it easier to achieve orgasm when their feet are warm, so perhaps men should be afforded the same luxury?’ But I’m not here to put forward Zara’s Sock = No Cock agenda. Instead I’m here to state and argue the toss for my own particular sexual hills upon which I’d gladly die.

Who knows, if this post is well received, perhaps I’ll ask my friends to provide their own lists in a series of guest slots. So for those of you who’ve been longing for Charlie to take over; this is perhaps your chance! Be sure to subscribe, like the post, share it and all the other nonsense I rarely request of my readers.

But, blatant self promotion aside, without further ado, and presented in no order of preference whatsoever, here are my personal three Sexual Hills I’d Die Upon:

Threesomes are the definitive version of the sexual experience.

This one I feel requires very little explanation, not least because it’s a point I know I’ve made several dozen times before. To explain it uncharacteristically succinctly; threesomes feature all the very best aspects of sex, without any of the boring bits. They represent near endless variety. No two threesomes are ever the same - even when it’s the same individuals engaging - and there’s a near limitless sequence and combination of actions that can be happening at any one time.

They are, in my experience, pure unrelenting joy.

Why so? Regular sex has breaks, beats and pauses in between the ‘action.’ They’re as inevitable as they are inescapable, not out of rhythm or pace, but out of necessity. You can only go for so long before it’s time to change position, or before someone needs to hydrate, or someone gets an unfortunate cramp, or someone’s feet are cold and they need to put some socks on - unless you’re Zara in which case that’s not a brief pause but an untimely end.

But when you take one of these pauses, you’re essentially calling halt to everything exciting until things realign and reignite. It can be a matter of mere seconds, but holy hell can it sometimes spoil a moment. This simply doesn’t occur in a threesome, because if one person stops crucially there’s someone else there to pick up the slack!

I’m not for a moment advocating all sex should be a relentless unending grind. Merely that pacing is far easier when you’re in the luxurious position of never being short of multiple things to do.

I genuinely *love* threesomes. And I intend to write extensively on the subject over the coming weeks. As such, I’ll keep the combat upon this particular hill brief. Not least, because I’m not convinced it’s all that controversial an opinion - in my humble experience, there’s relatively few who turn down the threesome opportunity when it presents itself.

As they say; Three’s a crowd. And who doesn’t love sex in a crowd?

Missionary is by far the worst of the ‘regular’ sex positions.

I know this one is controversial, as a sizeable number of my friends disagreed with me, but it’s possibly the hill I’m most prepared to fight for.

Missionary sex is little more than laying back while a guy does some awkward press-ups on top of you, all the while grunting and straining in your ear. It’s sex utterly devoid of any creativity, imagination, passion or interest. It’s the anti-threesome. Missionary sex is the bland default go-to of a man who doesn’t bother to customise the look of his character in an RPG.

It utterly perplexes me how this most unexciting and rudimentary version of ‘in and out’ has became such a mainstay of the sexual experience. It’s so woefully inefficient! The poor guy has to not only make all the effort of motion, thrust and rhythm, but must attempt to do so whilst maintaining a plank.

‘But Alice’, I hear you cry ‘it’s so intimate! It’s one of the few positions you can kiss whilst cumming…’ Well, let me stop you right there. Because, yes, you’re entirely correct. Kissing during copulation is a wonderful thing. But kissing mid-missionary is, almost without fail, horrendous. It’s like trying to tongue someone mid exercise routine - all you tend to get is a clenched jaw and some unfortunate dribbling. And yes, I know this from bitter experience.

My greatest issue with the position though is that it makes me so entirely passive in the event (which is not to be confused with feeling submissive, which is a very different and invariably far more exciting prospect). I tend to prefer my sexual liaisons to involve two active participants - in whatever exciting form that may take. In missionary I’m left with little option but to adopt the ‘lie back and think of England’ approach as, I’m reliably told, any attempt to add some include some movement of my own does little but ruin the rhythm and make everything even more unbearable.

So, missionary fans, I implore you; Come at me. Tell me why you support the blandest version of the world’s most exciting pass time. Make it your mission to convert me. I’m all ears!

You should always laugh during sex.

Sex is a fundamentally silly thing to do. You take two individuals high on hormones, lust, desire, alcohol, adoration or boredom (delete as appropriate), and then have them smash their sweaty, writhing bodies into each other for pleasure in all manner of creative ways, means and locations.

It’s wonderful. Some of the most fun you can have in the company of others. But it’s also, objectively speaking, a ridiculous thing to find yourself engaged in. Which is why, in my opinion, sex is at its best when this is in some way acknowledged.

I’m not suggesting every sexual liaison should be a flight aboard a roflcopter from beginning to end (though hysterical sex can be enormous fun in its own right), I’m simply putting forward the notion that some moments of levity in between bouts of grunting, panting and swearing at each other can go a long way from making an experience merely average to being thoroughly memorable and, dare I say, anecdotal. Which, personally speaking, is one of the best things sex can be.

I’m as big a fan of some gloriously rough and ready urgent banging as the next person, but even in these situations it’s rare you’ll not find a moment where someone will break into a fit of the giggles, or someone will grunt in a manner that causes a wry smile. Personally speaking there’s little less arousing than some relentlessly serious poe-faced fucking wherein one or both of the parties involved spend the entire time taking themselves too seriously.

Stony silent sex is equally as lousy. Sex should be a conversation. Great sex is a lively debate. Fantastic sex may have more in common with a comedy routine than I’d thought, but perhaps that’s best saved for a post all of its own.

So, there we have it: The Sexual hills I’d die upon. I’ve certainly got more - Lisa’s breasts aren’t alone in being entirely worth to find oneself smothered within - but I’ll keep things to a lean three standout examples for now.

But what are *your* immoveable sexual cornerstone opinions? Which hills will you die upon, and how angered, confused or indeed delighted are you by mine? Let’s turn this into an actual discussion - not least because I’d love to do a follow up post down the line examining some of yours and countering the inevitable rebuttal arguments.

So please do comment and let me know. I assure you I’ll read them all.

The hills have eyes, etc.