I’m laughing so hard reading these, I think I’ve sprained something!
I don’t remember what exactly I did, but I’m sure I moved in some odd or unexpected way. Maybe I got a cramp or something, who knows. Whatever it was, it caused my wife to ask, “What are you doing?”
My response (synapses connected to speech and higher-level thinking obviously not working right): “Uh…having sex with you?!”
She busted out laughing so hard it took her a few minutes to regain her composure.
This story requires a bit of background, so:
In college I had a friend who was dating a girl a year younger than him, so three years younger than me (she was a freshman when I was a senior.) Her and her friends had some smokin’ hot curves, and she had an ass that rivaled that of Vida Guerra. At any rate, I got to know them well, and they had a soft spot for Queen’s song, “Fat Bottom Girls.” They’d always dance and sing along to it and what not.
Well, a few years ago, after they broke up, I was visiting other college friends who were still attending school, and we went to a party and lo and behold, there she was. Well, several drinks later, I’m walking her home and we both stop and start making out with each other. When we get to her place, she invites me in for “a glass of water” (which I’m not sure I ever even got…) and we just head straight for the bedroom.
We get done with the drunken sex, and she just turns to me while lying in bed and says, totally straight faced:
“So…do fat-bottomed girls make your rockin’ world go round?”
wow !! you win ! That is classic 
I love that song …
About a year and a half ago I was dating this guy who was pretty new to the whole sex thing. What experience he had was very vanilla. Since this was mostly new territory for him he wanted to try and do all sorts of things. I encouraged his inquisitive side and at one point he is trying his best at dirty talk (which is something I don’t ordinarily do…I make plenty of noise but generally it isn’t words and sentences) and he got his bits confused. He said something about his throbbing pussy and then caught himself, saying, “No, I don’t have a pussy! I have a cock! It’s in you right now!” I laughed and laughed until I had tears streaming down my face. 
Emphasis added.
Good lord, what with the Mexican food part of the setup, I first mis-read this as a euphemism for diarrhea.
So, mine is pretty lame compared to what’s come before, but:
I was going down on this girl, and she’s moaning and “ooh” and “aaah” and then, suddenly, a long, loud:
AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGH!!
And I tried to let it go but all I could think about is pirates and Charlie Brown getting tangled up with his kite in a tree, so I burst out laughing.
After I explained it to her and we both had a good laugh, back to business we went.
A few years back, a new woman in my life wanted to show me a new position. Basically it was me sitting upright on the corner of the bed and her straddling me. The leg of the bed frame was not happy about that.
The post-coital pillow talk went something like this: “Yeah, can I speak to someone in customer service?”
Not sure what to make of this one…
“My…cer…vix…is…a…door…that…should…nev…er…be…knocked…on!”
First, mazel tov.
Second, she obviously was trying to tell you that you were being too polite: don’t knock, just barge right in.
What’s wrong with ringing the bell?
Didn’t you see the ‘No Solicitors’ sign?
I guess yeti sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Our house has no cooling system, so summers usually find us camping out in my sewing room, downstairs. So happens it’s right next to the front door and has a large window, shaded and visually screened with an enormous lilac, that’s always open to catch the breeze in nice weather. One day, we were… expressing our love rather emphatically and with an adult-type video going.
Now I have to say that really no one ever knocks on our door. Other than the mailman, I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve had someone come to our front door when I’m home, all the years we’ve been here, and this was pretty early on a Sunday morning.
At this point, we’re well past exposition and rounding the home stretch of climax. Really, no turning back whether you like it or not. All the sudden, we hear talking voices and knock, knock, knock! We both heard it, but knew we weren’t expecting anyone and too late to stop now, anyway. We carry on with an exuberant dénouement and with immaculate timing, so do the several couples on the video. A few minutes later checked the front door to find a little packet of literature from First Baptist Methodist Episcopal Church of the Blood of the Fiery Lamb Holiness Tabernacle of Zion (Reformed), with which group Sampiro might be familiar.
Years ago I was with a woman who wore her grandmother’s ring on a chain around her neck. When I first came over, she was upset that she hadn’t been able to find the ring, it had fallen off the chain.
Later, after an incredible romp in the hay, I got out of bed and the ring dropped literally from the crack of my ass onto the floor.
She was thrilled, “Oh my God where was it?”
“In my butt.”
Maybe not so funny in writing, but anything lost from then on was likely to be found, in my butt.
Oh, dear. If he has to tell you where it is… 
The ex-boy and I were watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show with all the lights off when all of a sudden he decides we need to “go to it” (which was weird because he wasn’t that kind of guy at all. The movie must have tapped into something) on the living room floor.
He had never watched it before and during the Kill Eddie scene, he stops mid-thrust and says “What is WRONG with that lady? Why is she trying to kill Meatloaf?”
Not during sex, but . . .
The day after the very first time between me and my then-girlfriend, we were sitting on the couch watching T.V. An episode of “Star Trek: Deep Space 9” was on, and I was explaining to her that Dax was actually a worm inside the body of a woman. My girlfriend says, “Ew, gross!” to which I replied without missing a beat, “You didn’t seem to mind last night!”
Amazingly, she ended up marrying me anyway. 
I thought “about fifty cents worth of change had dribbled out of my pants pocket” was a euphemism as well.
Ow. No. Knocking on the cervix is not a pleasant feeling, and “barging in”… :eek: