Everyone hates condoms – they’re rubbish. They’re all rubbery and they smell weird and there’s a break in sex where you have to tear the packaging and struggle your desperate, throbbing cock into something that will end up diminishing your enjoyment of the whole thing. See? Rubbish.
I mainly hate them because they mean I miss out on the fantastic moment when you shoot directly inside me. When your cock twitches and I can feel the first few spurts of hot spunk deep in my cunt.
However, now that we’ve accepted that they’re rubbish, let’s put it behind us. I know you hate them, you know I hate them, but you’re going to wear one anyway. Because no matter how annoying and desensitising and killjoy an item they are, they save lives.
How terribly dramatic.
But the drama’s worth it – they genuinely do. They prevent hideous diseases, they prevent unwanted pregnancies, they are the guardians of your health, wellbeing, and wallet. If you wear a condom and use it well you can pretty much guarantee you won’t have to deal with a child support agency or a difficult blood test.
In the spirit of condom love, here are a few options that might make condoms… if not fun… then at least less un-fun than they are generally considered:
Practise putting it on
Everyone likes being good at things, right? You know that bit of sex where you take the girl’s bra off, and you occasionally manage to do it one-handed like a fucking sex-god superstar? Make your condom-donning one of those special tricks. Can you pull it out of your pocket, remove the wrapper, and slide it onto your cock without her even knowing you’ve moved your hands? Do it.
For a while I got so good at it that guys didn’t even realise what I was doing until it was halfway on.
Make a point of it
If you can’t do it secretly, make a meal of it – condoms are a crucial element of anonymous/casual sex, so why not acknowledge that they are actually a bit sexy? Think about it: the point at which a condom comes out of the wallet and slides onto your dick is the point at which you’re both consenting to fuck. That’s the moment – no more worrying, no more easing into it, no more persuasion and anticipation – bam. When the condom’s on, unless nuclear war breaks out, we’re going to fuck. So enjoy it.
Tell me to put it on you. Make me sit back and watch while you do. Ask me to touch myself as I watch you roll it down your shaft. You know we’re going to fuck, let me know that you know it. Show me confidence. Show me condoms. And show me your fucking cock.
Shut the fuck up
The final rule, and the most important one – once it’s out and on your dick, shut the living fuck up about it. Don’t complain that it’s too tight, don’t say halfway through that you won’t come because of it.
We both know it’s rubbish, but so’s the sound the neighbours are making upstairs. So’s the fact that it’s overly hot and we might both be a bit drunk and thirsty. So’s the slightly itchy feeling when you bury your stubbled face in my neck.
Remarkably enough, none of this matters when your dick is inside me. That’s what we’re here for, let’s concentrate on that. If you’re pounding six kinds of hell out of me, the fact that you won’t come isn’t something I want to hear. You can always whip it off at the end and pick your favourite target, but in the meantime shut the fuck up and fuck me.