Liberated - Installment IV - The Climax
In all the Liberator literature, nowhere had a couple attempted an inverted-cunnilingual ramp maneuver. In each position illustrated, it’s head on top, head-giving down below.
Undaunted, Raegan turns the ramp around and insists I pleasure her from behind. Ordinarily, I would be more than happy to oblige, but the ramp is too tall. My wife’s knees are off the bed and all her weight is on the ramp in what looks to be a mightily uncomfortable position. See, we’re eager lovers, but short ones. And in my research, I neglected to realize the Liberator ramps come in two sizes.
“Are you okay like that?”
“Sure! Let’s go!”
I used the smaller wedge as a kid would a stack of phone books in order to raise myself up to the necessary height. Things seemed to be going along smoothly until again my wife stopped me with words that forebode disaster.
“Uh-oh.”
“What is it?”
“Hang on a second.”
“Is everything okay?”
And then, before I had time to duck, she let out an prolonged, moistened fart. Which, as you may have already guessed, didn’t lessen the sexiness of the situation. Though I certainly could have benefited from a set of earplugs and a clothespin.
Embarrassed, Raegan apologized for the interruption and explained it was due to the fact that the ramp had been pressing up on her stomach and it had apparently pressed everything out of her.
Everything but the will to procreate, that is. For ten minutes later, Raegan is lying back against the ramp, as one would a beach chair, legs spread, stretching her cervical fluid between her fingers to a distance of about 8 inches (20.32 cm). That’s right. My wife has discovered the ramp provides the perfect angle for checking the consistency of ones cervical fluid. And as every man knows, even the looming threat of interior decorating cannot match the feelings that stir in a man after watching his wife test her cervical fluid to determine its degree of fertility. Such stirring occurs primarily in his stomach.3
Meanwhile, she’s demanding we attempt page 12, shouting out:
“Alabama Slammer!”
I flip quickly through the guide, locate this fertility-friendly position, and mount my wife without a moment’s hesitation. Suddenly, things are looking up. When you get right down to it, in missionary, the Ramp essentially simulates the experience of having sex with someone whose ass is approximately 50% bigger than the woman you are currently fucking. Which is nothing to sneeze at. After all, how many catch-phrases have emerged in celebration of the oversized tucus: “More cushion for the pushin’,” “The bigger the berry, the sweeter the juice.” How many songs have been penned in honor of the much-backed woman? It could be even said that fat-bottomed girls may in fact be solely responsible for the uninterrupted rotation of the rocking world itself.
Beyond that, there is a lot to be said for having sex in this reclined position. Crank up the thermostat, pour some margaritas, and you’re back on the beach at Acapulco! Everything you need (lips, breasts, etc. ) is right there, that much closer. Which apparently, was not as much of a bonus for my wife:
“Not so close,” she said. “It’s hurting my eyes!”
“Quit being facetious. It’s not sexy.”
“I’m not being facetious. I’m being faserious. Back it up, mister!”
I quickly learned that, by pushing and pulling on the ramp, you can move your partner under you: an impossible feat to achieve on a mattress alone. It’s the lazy man’s ideal sex-toy. And I am nothing if not a lazy man. The wrist restraints are nice too, though the thrill of my wife’s vulnerability was quickly outweighed by the disappointment of not having her hands on my ass.
Conversely, in the woman-on-top (or “Strokes of Luck”) position, the Ramp makes you feel like you’re sporting a penis three inches (7.62 cm) bigger than the one you showed up with.
Had we been “blissfully bound on a journey of exquisite anguish and moist anticipation” as we had been led to believe we would be? Moist anticipation, perhaps. Anguish? Certainly with our initial attempt. Had it enabled us to “uncover a world of sex and sensation [we’d] only dared to dream of” or “lifted us into unlimited acts of love unlike anything else?” In a manner of speaking. For with Raegan lying back on the ramp — the smaller wedge under her lower half — I performed like an American Serviceman, marching steadfast and proud through Paris, liberating millions upon millions of captive sperm. Fighting my own personal Battle of the Bulge! Forging ahead into Fatherland!
The long and short of it is this: conception can be as erotic as anything else, simply by making it fun and different. Hell, if this last go-round didn’t work out, I may go and get my tongue pierced for the next attempt. Then again, maybe I’ll just spring for a clip-on.
-----
3. There is only one good position in which a husband may check the consistency of his wife’s cervical fluid and that is sitting on the couch with a ball game and a beer while his spouse reaches up into her baby-maker with whatever implement she deems appropriate for the job: cotton swab, gynecologist, etc.
In all the Liberator literature, nowhere had a couple attempted an inverted-cunnilingual ramp maneuver. In each position illustrated, it’s head on top, head-giving down below.
Undaunted, Raegan turns the ramp around and insists I pleasure her from behind. Ordinarily, I would be more than happy to oblige, but the ramp is too tall. My wife’s knees are off the bed and all her weight is on the ramp in what looks to be a mightily uncomfortable position. See, we’re eager lovers, but short ones. And in my research, I neglected to realize the Liberator ramps come in two sizes.
“Are you okay like that?”
“Sure! Let’s go!”
I used the smaller wedge as a kid would a stack of phone books in order to raise myself up to the necessary height. Things seemed to be going along smoothly until again my wife stopped me with words that forebode disaster.
“Uh-oh.”
“What is it?”
“Hang on a second.”
“Is everything okay?”
And then, before I had time to duck, she let out an prolonged, moistened fart. Which, as you may have already guessed, didn’t lessen the sexiness of the situation. Though I certainly could have benefited from a set of earplugs and a clothespin.
Embarrassed, Raegan apologized for the interruption and explained it was due to the fact that the ramp had been pressing up on her stomach and it had apparently pressed everything out of her.
Everything but the will to procreate, that is. For ten minutes later, Raegan is lying back against the ramp, as one would a beach chair, legs spread, stretching her cervical fluid between her fingers to a distance of about 8 inches (20.32 cm). That’s right. My wife has discovered the ramp provides the perfect angle for checking the consistency of ones cervical fluid. And as every man knows, even the looming threat of interior decorating cannot match the feelings that stir in a man after watching his wife test her cervical fluid to determine its degree of fertility. Such stirring occurs primarily in his stomach.3
Meanwhile, she’s demanding we attempt page 12, shouting out:
“Alabama Slammer!”
I flip quickly through the guide, locate this fertility-friendly position, and mount my wife without a moment’s hesitation. Suddenly, things are looking up. When you get right down to it, in missionary, the Ramp essentially simulates the experience of having sex with someone whose ass is approximately 50% bigger than the woman you are currently fucking. Which is nothing to sneeze at. After all, how many catch-phrases have emerged in celebration of the oversized tucus: “More cushion for the pushin’,” “The bigger the berry, the sweeter the juice.” How many songs have been penned in honor of the much-backed woman? It could be even said that fat-bottomed girls may in fact be solely responsible for the uninterrupted rotation of the rocking world itself.
Beyond that, there is a lot to be said for having sex in this reclined position. Crank up the thermostat, pour some margaritas, and you’re back on the beach at Acapulco! Everything you need (lips, breasts, etc. ) is right there, that much closer. Which apparently, was not as much of a bonus for my wife:
“Not so close,” she said. “It’s hurting my eyes!”
“Quit being facetious. It’s not sexy.”
“I’m not being facetious. I’m being faserious. Back it up, mister!”
I quickly learned that, by pushing and pulling on the ramp, you can move your partner under you: an impossible feat to achieve on a mattress alone. It’s the lazy man’s ideal sex-toy. And I am nothing if not a lazy man. The wrist restraints are nice too, though the thrill of my wife’s vulnerability was quickly outweighed by the disappointment of not having her hands on my ass.
Conversely, in the woman-on-top (or “Strokes of Luck”) position, the Ramp makes you feel like you’re sporting a penis three inches (7.62 cm) bigger than the one you showed up with.
Had we been “blissfully bound on a journey of exquisite anguish and moist anticipation” as we had been led to believe we would be? Moist anticipation, perhaps. Anguish? Certainly with our initial attempt. Had it enabled us to “uncover a world of sex and sensation [we’d] only dared to dream of” or “lifted us into unlimited acts of love unlike anything else?” In a manner of speaking. For with Raegan lying back on the ramp — the smaller wedge under her lower half — I performed like an American Serviceman, marching steadfast and proud through Paris, liberating millions upon millions of captive sperm. Fighting my own personal Battle of the Bulge! Forging ahead into Fatherland!
The long and short of it is this: conception can be as erotic as anything else, simply by making it fun and different. Hell, if this last go-round didn’t work out, I may go and get my tongue pierced for the next attempt. Then again, maybe I’ll just spring for a clip-on.
-----
3. There is only one good position in which a husband may check the consistency of his wife’s cervical fluid and that is sitting on the couch with a ball game and a beer while his spouse reaches up into her baby-maker with whatever implement she deems appropriate for the job: cotton swab, gynecologist, etc.
posted by the Brykmans at 10:09 PM
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