Avoid cats, carpets and panic attacks
Photo by Minh Ng?c on Unsplash
?Spit-roast!? My boyfriend yelled in joy.
We were in a tiny flat in the north of Yorkshire. It was 4am. I lay on the thin threadbare carpet and considered how nice it felt. It was a grounding experience, and it felt great for my back.
My boyfriend and his friend, were drunkenly discussing the best way to have a threesome. His friend sounded shy. In my hazy drunken state, I guessed he?d not had as much alcohol as us.
Plus, to give him credit, it?s challenging to enter the private zone which exists between a couple. We had invited our friend into our relationship for one night, and he was having a tough time believing it.
?Are you sure you want to do this?? He asked us both hesitantly.
We nodded passionately
My boyfriend wielded his long pack of condoms excitedly, and I lay smiling on the floor. It was a good idea for all. We knew our friend would feel more comfortable, as soon as the sex began.
I was sure my boyfriend?s shouts of spit-roast were not helpful though. We were supposed to be creating a relaxed environment. Not a gung-ho, deliriously crazy room of sex. Our friend needed time to warm up first.
I have always been intrigued by spit-roasts
The first time I heard the phrase was on a cold morning walk to school. I had no idea what it meant. The image of a sizzling piece of meat turning on a spit as it cooked, helped me enormously. There would be something at both ends.
I presumed something at both ends meant anal sex from behind and normal sex from the front? While, I wasn?t sure if it turned me on, I was certainly interested. But, I had to get to grips with the image in my head first.
I met my boyfriend three years later when I was 17. We began a monogamous relationship. It was my first relationship and my first experience of sex. I often felt self-conscious of this fact and wished I had more romantic and sexual experience. Plus, my boyfriend constantly talked about his own past ventures, which didn?t help. I felt left out.
As the years went by, we became more sexually confident as a partnership, and also less monogamous. We discussed our fantasies. I learnt my boyfriend had a bucket list.
His top three sexual aims were:
- Sleep with a prostitute
- Have a threesome
- Go to a sex club
My top three were:
- Have an orgy
- Have a threesome
- Be tied up
So, it seemed we had a middle-ground. We discussed threesomes at length. I was excited to suggest a spit-roast. The fact that sizzling meat in a kebab shop was a sexual term, had never left my mind. I was intrigued.
The Urban Dictionary defines a spit-roast as, ?A sexual activity involving 3 people, two active males and one passive (male or female). Man 1 penetrates person 2 from the rear (anal or vaginal) while he/she sucks the penis of person 3.?
That?s where I had been going wrong
I had confused double penetration with a spit-roast. Spit roast was sex (anal or vaginal) while I gave someone a blowjob. Now, I understood it. And my boyfriend liked the idea. Perfect, we had a spit-roast and a threesome agreement.
Hence, my position on the threadbare carpet in the North of Yorkshire. We were embarking excitedly on threesome number two. We had already experienced a threesome with a girl, which hadn?t exactly gone to plan. We decided it was a good idea to have a threesome with a guy too.
I pressed my face firmly against the carpet. It smelt of mustiness and cigarettes. I waited patiently. My boyfriend was clearly having some issues. He was aiming for anal, while his friend was aiming for vaginal. But, neither was happening. For some reason, they couldn?t do it at the same time.
After a quick change of logistics, my boyfriend settled with vaginal penetration while his friend came round to my face for a blowjob. This was so much easier. And it was the spit-roast we had talked about! Hurrah!
I was finally having the mysterious spit-roast I wanted
As soon as I began the blowjob however, I realised the issue. Our friend?s cock was not hard. It wasn?t even a little bit hard. He was too nervous.
?I need to get some Viagra,? He mumbled.
I guess we had sprung it on him. We had spent the evening getting drunk and discussing fantasies. As we got drunker, we got hornier. Me and my boyfriend had shared a quick private discussion to check we were on the same wavelength before proceeding. But, his friend, hadn?t had the luxury of this.
We should have given him more warning.
As he ran upstairs to get his Viagra, I realised we had another problem on our hands. My eyes were swelling up. As I scratched them irritably, I saw a shiny black cat, slink past the living-room door.
?Does he have cats?? I asked my boyfriend urgently.
My boyfriend shrugged his shoulders. I looked slowly down at the carpet as it dawned on me. I was sure I could see hairs. I gazed around the living room. The sofa and cushions looked hairy too. I had been rolling around on a cat haired covered carpet. And I was seriously allergic to cats.
?Are you alright?? My boyfriend?s friend asked. He entered the living room with a tiny foiled sachet and looked at me in concern.
I felt my face blindly
I was incredibly itchy. In fact, I felt like my eyes were getting smaller and smaller. I could barely see. Maybe I was having a anaphylactic shock? My throat was closing up. I gasped gulps of air before it was too late. Pretty soon my throat would close up for good and I wouldn?t be able to breathe ever again. I gasped desperately.
?Are you having a panic attack?? My boyfriend asked. He sounded annoyed.
I felt embarrassed. Our threesome was not going to plan. I wasn?t being cool. But I couldn?t slow my breathing. What was I supposed to do? I kept gulping oxygen wildly, trying to catch my breath and hoping I would be OK.
But it got worse
My breathing became short and shallow. I couldn?t get enough air in. We would have to call emergency services.
A paper bag was passed to me, and that?s when I came back down to earth. For some reason, the paper bag brought a sombre feel to the room. I realised how serious everything had become.
It was all in the mind. I carried on breathing in short gasps, but I gradually slowed my breathing down. It was time to relax. I would be fine. I just had to focus.
?Are you OK now?? My boyfriend asked.
I nodded. I was better, but I didn?t want to talk.
?Do you have cats?? My boyfriend asked his friend.
?Yeah. I have three. Monty, Midnight and Sooty,? Our friend answered proudly.
Three cats?! We had to leave. I focused on breathing normally. It was important to keep calm. But the truth was, this threesome had been a disaster, the house was infested with cats and our friend couldn?t get a hard on. It hadn?t gone well.
After a shower and a long sleep at home, I felt better. Spit-roasting and our second threesome hadn?t gone to plan. But, we had learnt a few things:
- Prepare a friend before a threesome with an open conversation
- Make the environment nicer than a thin threadbare carpet and a guy shouting spit-roast. Think music, a king-sized bed and good lighting
- Always ask if there are cats around before proceeding to roll on the floor. The same applies for any other allergy you may have that could spoil your threesome fun
Follow these three golden rules, and I?m sure you will have a much better threesome and spit-roasting experience than me. After all, no one would have guessed cats and panic attacks would have a part to play in our sexual venture.
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