Triple the pleasure
Sex, like so many things in life, all comes down to simple mathematics, writes Barry Lowe.
In high school I was hopeless at anything that required the use of numbers, formulae, calculations, co-ordination, as well as skills with perspective, metal or wood. Oh, and also anything to do with physical exertion. What I mean is I dropped chemistry, physics, woodwork, metalwork, and descriptive geometry as soon as it was permitted. Alas, maths and physical education were mandatory. As was sport.
Had physics and maths involved more problems and solutions that would later become applicable to my own well-being, then perhaps my attention would not have strayed to more important matters such as how to get into the school captain’s pants.
As a teenager I learned from experience that one goes into one as many times as you like, although that wasn’t quite the lesson our young, gorgeous maths teacher was attempting to impart to my lovesick brain. In fact, I discovered two goes into one as many times as they like as well. I have a mouth, I have an arse, so why not? I just hadn’t thought to use them both at the same time.
It was a few years after I left the hallowed halls of higher education, Leaving Certificate clutched in hand, to attend Sydney Teacher’s College, from which I was unceremoniously dumped when they discovered I was using my orifices to test the limits of mathematics. A boyfriend introduced me to the possibility of two into one orifice, namely my arse. That meant, on a good night, a slutty young twink could take three men at once (five if you included both hands).
Suddenly, all that arithmetic at school made sense, although I didn’t need a calculator to work it all out, just copious amounts of lube. Women, of course, had a distinct advantage over us poor male mortals by having an extra hole, but female anatomy has never been one of my strong suits.
Wikipedia is my friend when I’m writing bisexual erotica, enabling me to look up the location of such foreign places as Pudenda, Labia, and Clitoris, until recently the names of Mediterranean islands off the coast of Greece as far as I was concerned.
[Image] Barry Lowe enjoys extra curricular activites, but maths was never a strong point.
Numbers meant I could keep a running score of my sex partners, although once it passed the total of my fingers and toes, it was time to invest in an abacus. Then it became notches in my wooden bedhead until I’d whittled it away to sawdust. Those were the days, naturally enough, in which my dick got hard of its own accord by merely contemplating a night’s excesses beginning on Boomerang Street. Lately, I’ve had to rely on Viagra and Cialis, definitely not the names of the most recent Disney cartoon princesses.
I have been heartened to discover, much too late in life for me, that mathematics is still making great strides. Triple penetration anyone? I mean in the same hole. Of course, I’d seen women attempt the feat, marvelling at the elasticity of certain orifices and the synchronized efforts of three men – why is this not an Olympic sport? Naturally enough, I went in search of the gay male equivalent. It wasn’t hard to find. Damn, why hadn’t I taken gymnastics and higher maths at school?
And why am I so old when I finally get the answer right about whether three goes into one? More importantly, where do I get a sphincter retread so that my tired old arse muscles once again twang like the taut strings on an electric guitar?