G and I were having drinks in Philadelphia at the home of a highly spirited, delightful, wealthy dowager and old friend who’s in her early 80’s. She had just finished reading the Casanova book and criticized us for just mentioning G’s experience with women under water and not on it.
In the book, except for the scene where a ballsy contessa unzipped G’s zipper under the Bridge of Sighs or Ponte di Sospiri in Venice and dabbled with his pecker while tourists looked on, he describes only two scenes with women in water; one in a huge bath tub with a French Canadian woman who poured copious amounts of champagne on him as part of foreplay and the other in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Coral Gables in Florida. He also has had other under water experiences with about six others which he didn’t write about. G found underwater sex a huge sexual downer disappointment. He says the guy does all the work struggling to stand up and hold his balance while, at the same time, holding the gal firmly by her cheeks- the rear end ones- so she won’t sink while he’s pumping away. She, buoyed by the water, effortlessly spreads her legs around the guy and relaxes with a smile on her face while he does all the work. He said it reminds him of the Tantric and Taoist ladies and how they have all the fun when copulating. For example, in Taoist China, a woman’s vital energy of ch’i needed to be constantly recharged by a man’s sexual energy. Tantra goddesses were all over India where the women gave energy to the man during sexual intercourse. In both of these religions, it’s a sacred duty for the man to hold off his ejaculation for as long as possible- and even to surrender it- while the ladies lay on their backs enjoying multiple orgasms. Those Oriental goddesses, probably created by women or men under their influence, certainly did a great snow job in brainwashing the poor guys. Imagine an American male, as a way of life, feeling guilty for having an orgasm before the woman does. Just imagine!
Getting back to the dowager: She asked him about his amorous experiences on the water on boats. He said he had a few lovely ones on cruises or in cabins of moderate size boats. When he began to describe the scenes she abruptly interrupted him and said, “No! No! I mean on the deck, not in the cabin, or on a row boat or even a canoe without a roof where, for example, you’re on the water with a beautiful sky above you and you can hear the soothing sound of the water and maybe even the surf, if you’re not too far away from the shore. I’m talking about when the beauty of nature romantically adds to the pleasure of love making as it would in the forest.”
G gave me a funny look, and I sensed he was uncomfortable. But then he turned to her and said, “Laura, can I be truthful or should I shut up for you may be disappointed in what I have to say?” With a broad smile she replied, “G, you don’t have to tell me. You’re not a roofless boat assman. Right?” “Not quite, but three episodes jump to mind and there are others with similar outcomes.
“The first was when I had an apartment at Marina Del Rey in California. One of my neighbors, a nice guy, took us- me and my date- out on his boat on a moonlit night. When we arrived in deep water we lowered a raft after which I rowed for a couple of minutes. She puffed on her marijuana weed, and it must have been strong stuff for she undressed and was all over me within a couple of minutes. While on her back she had a tough time finding a comfortable position because of limited space and a hard floor which most of these boats are like. Though they are on water they ain’t, let me tell you, waterbeds! Then the boat began to shake a little and she screamed, “G, it’s a shark! Take me back to the boat!” I happily obeyed and went straight to the cabin to finish the affair. No sharks but just a king size bed.
“The second happened in the Caribbean on a canoe on a beautiful sunny day. Love time had arrived and the lady – by the way, I would rate as extremely sensual so my pipes were steaming hot- lay on her back but she couldn’t get comfortable. She complained but finally found a position that she could handle and I could be able to perform though the positions for both of us were lousy. As soon as I started making vigorous moves the boat began to shake back and forth and she, being afraid, said, “G. you’re going to tip the boat if you keep it up, and I’m not a great swimmer.” And boy was she thankful when I told her we were going back to land. And so was I!
“There’s a very small, private island off the coast of Calabria in Italy with a single restaurant nestled in the side of a hill with lots of trees and shrubs that used to be one of my favorite destinies. On one of my trips I hired a motor boat and took off with a lady who rarely made demands and was comfortable to be with. It was a beautiful day and on the way we consumed a bottle of wine. I anchored the boat and we watched the dolphins leap out of the water beside our boat. And did she look sultry which called for whoopee time. We disrobed and placed the featherless thin as can be pillows we had on the cramped flat hard spaces on the boat. She unsuccessfully squirmed to get into a comfortable position and, evidently her butt hit a protruding bolt and she shouted out, “Ouch!” As our sex ritual was about to begin she- and I’ll never forget those eyes- almost pleaded, ‘G, isn’t this ridiculous? This position is ridiculous particularly when there’s a romantic restaurant waiting for us with wonderful food and wine and a comfortable place to take a nap.’ So up went the anchors and I, happy as a pig in shit, opened the throttle and went full speed ahead toward the island.
“Now I’m testing my memory, but I don’t remember any woman asking me to switch positions with me being on the bottom in order to continue. I, myself, did think of it a couple of times but decided to stay silent for reasons I’m sure you understand.
“Laura, over the years I’ve discussed this sex-roofless- boat scenario with a number of men and, maybe with the exception of a few young bulls, all prefer to make love in a comfortable boat cabin.”
Then naughty Laura, sipping on her beloved champagne periodically during the day as Winston Churchill used to do, surprised the crap out of us. Out of nowhere she said, “G, in the book you discussed detailed ways on which to make love to parts of a woman’s body such as the breast and clitoris but you don’t do it with women’s rear ends. Yes, you discuss it somewhat, but not in detail. As a favor, in your next post I want you to describe in detail how you do or did it.”
The way in which she requested it was a classic female technique which women use and which men find it almost impossible to refuse. Bottom line, she knew G would carry out her wish. G, leaning forward and gently squeezing her forearm, answered, “Your wish is my command.” He paused and then, with a broad challenging smile, asked, “Laura, at your age are you still having sexual fantasies?”
Laura smiled back and remained silent.