What It's REALLY Like To Have So Much Sex You Can't Walk

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What's It's Like To Have So Much You Can't Walk

It starts after the first time if it's good. You stand up to pee and your legs work about as well as a newborn fawn's. But by the time you're finished, walking back to bed, you're OK again, legs firm under you, feet planted.

After the second time again, if it's good you have to sit on the side of the bed for a minute before you can get up. When you do, you're all wobbly and teetering; you have to hold the side of the dresser to keep yourself steady.

At three times, you lay still, panting, for a while before you can even sit up. And four? Well, at four, you're not going anywhere for awhile, lady.


What's it like to have so much sex you can't walk? Amazing. Incredible. You're getting the best sex of your life and you know it. You don't have to tantra to last four times and he doesn't have to come four times, either.

You just need a particularly mischievous and caring lover to make it to four because most guys can't manage it themselves. Your love has to let go of the idea that everyone gets an equal number of cookies. He has to be willing to keep going after he knows he's finished and he can't be too shy to initiate it.

These are all magical qualities in a lover, things you don't just find. The universe drops them in your lap, and all you can do is get down on your knees to say thank you.


And if he's like Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way? I hope you weren't planning on going anywhere, sweetheart.

You might be able to rationalize leaving him for some unsavory personal habits or a drastic personality flaw or something. But if he doesn't have any  if he does you good AND looks fine AND comes home with roses  you're never getting out of that trap.

Hope you wanted to settle down sometime soon because you are never leaving this guy, ever. You have to find some perceived flaw in order to walk, and with sex like that, no one wants to bother. At least you know the engagement ring will be perfect and the wedding night an exercise in interplanetary bliss.

One you've got the stellar sex, you're stuck. Not just stellar so-good-you-can't-walk stellar. You're going nowhere. You're with this guy 'til death do you part, as long as he keeps the multiple orgasms coming (no pun intended).

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All you have to do is get him off once, maybe twice, and you're so super-saturated with sex you can't manage to stumble to the bathroom. If you can roll far enough to avoid the enormous wet spot on the bed, you're better than most. Except he's such a gentleman he's brought you a towel so you don't have to move a few inches to left. This guy's a keeper.

Let the existential dread sink in. You will only have sex with one man for the rest of your life. But the sex is so good, you're willing to make the trade-off.


That's what sex this good does to you. No matter how much you want to leave, you can't. And you're OK with that.