Bring the dead back to life
A friend of mine, back when she was at a curious age (around tenth grade), once came across an amusing little book about what a wife should do with her husband if he's completely fed up with her. "Revive the dead," something along those lines. Active resuscitation, basically a full-on Sklifosovsky emergency room. One of the methods described there caught her interest.
It suggested hiding a plate of ice under the bed, waiting for the husband to start sighing as he crossed the finish line, and at that moment suddenly applying a handful of ice to his long-suffering balls. It promised an insane orgasm and a restrained, manly "Thank you!" from the husband after the act.
My friend
is a woman of action. She didn't wait for marriage and the state of being fed up. She decided to surprise her boyfriend, and she did it. For this cause, she even resolved to get on all fours—a position she generally can't stand. But it was the only way to keep her boyfriend near the hidden plate—he was prone to fucking her in the most unexpected places in the apartment, wherever fate caught them, with constant relocation and regrouping. Besides, it was easier to retrieve the plate unnoticed.The surprise, in short, was a success. But, it must be said, life is more complicated than any paper rules. The ice, for example, was in cubes. No, probably, if you apply perfect ice cubes perfectly softly to perfect balls, it's truly magical and romantic. But the girl showed a complete misunderstanding of male physiology and failed to consider that each cube has 8 rather sharp corners. Moreover, she lost her balance during the swing with the handful of ice, which was hardly surprising with only one supporting arm under conditions of strong vibration. The sound accompaniment of the surprise was especially classy.
It happened at his apartment while his parents were away, and she, fooling around, had set up languid moans audible throughout the entire Khrushchyovka building as moral preparation for the surprise, which were then covered by a wild, final male roar. A celebration of nature, in short.
That's probably how bison made love. A girlfriend later told her that the grandmothers in the courtyard crossed themselves. What saved the guy was that he was drunk.
About a week later, he mysteriously asked her: "Do you know what catharsis is? Catharsis is complete purification. I could have come and sh… myself at the same time back then.