It all began with a reply to his fake but clearly desirous craigslist ad. The subject line of the post was, “Which Radiohead Album is the Best for Boning?”
“Hey person from [city] I happen to know who is into Radiohead,
I’m not going to lie. I’m intrigued.”
The ignition had been turned long ago. We were horny teenage friends who saw each other a few times a year since the age of fourteen or something like that. Nothing had happened back then. In our early college years, we organized a reunion for our group of friends in New York City. Prior to this occurring, the fellow I’ll call Andrew Bird (song here) and I started chatting more frequently in anticipation of hanging out again. Our innocent inside jokes about Radiohead, a mutual favourite, prompted that straight-up answer to its craigslist manifestation.
So we agreed to have sex when we saw each other, in so many words. As we flounced around the center of the universe with our other friends, Andrew and I shared discrete moments of hand holding, ass pinching, and knowing looks. No one knew about our pre-planned tryst.
Name of Album: In Rainbows
Tracks Listened to: I believe the sex occurred between tracks one and six or seven. I do remember that we only made it through half of the album, which was a result of foreplay without music.
Best Track: “Bodysnatchers”
Worst Track: “Faust Arp”
One night toward the end of the week he covertly arranged to stay at the same friend’s place as I was staying. When everyone had finally gone to sleep at 4am, we both tip toed out of the squeaky NYU dorm room into the hallway. Our lips met for the first time against the wall. A lot of tongue entered my mouth at once as we squeezed each other’s bodies and made out fervently. I pushed his huge curly dark brown fro-hair out of the way as it tried to join in on the fun.
Grasped hands pulled down the floursecently lit hall as we explored the floor. Finally, the common room. Single brown isolated desks along the walls. A shitty loveseat that we dragged closer to an outlet so we could plug in his laptop. I straddled him in the cold room, winter air chilling my hot and bothered body. He removed my pajamas slowly, taking hold of my erect nipples with his fingertips. Pulling, twisting, face engulfing, leaning my head back with a frustrated sigh. The build up had been difficult to endure. I wanted to know what his penis looked like. I needed to know. I needed it between my lips.
I stripped him of the plaid cotton layer. Hardened, circumcised like a good Jewish man, long like his 6’3” body mirrored, and desiring to be pleased. I smiled and let him know I was satisfied with the answer to my mystery by sucking on his cockhead. My throat opened to take more of him. His size increased with the heavy arousal I was laying on him. I licked my palms and gently rolled his sack between them. Andrew’s face became trance-like, almost boyish. Mouth half open, emitting soft grunts into the unsuspecting room.
I lifted my face up and motioned for him to turn on the music.
Please rate the following qualities on a scale of 1-10 (1 being the most negative effect on the sexperience, 10 the most positive, and 5 neutral)—-
Lyrical Content: 7
Cohesiveness of Song Progression: 7
Musical Progression (i.e. Crescendos): 8
Overall Effect of the Album: 7.4
He retrieved a condom that read “NYC sex” in bright colours. When his girth entered me to the quick pace of “15 Steps,” I entered a similar trance. Powerful thrusting sent my nerve endings into a frenzy. I tried to keep my voice down, but having his tall-skinny frame pounding me, knees bent on the scratchy sofa made me reel. More force was added and my voice squealed what my cunt couldn’t…the feeling of being relentlessly taken. Of having our plan work. And of glancing out the big window and seeing the pastels of the morning begin reaching over the Manhattan skyline.
I sat him upright on the couch and lowered myself onto his structure. Now he could see the city behind my bouncing breasts and smooth belly. I rose and fell with the crescendos in “All I Need.” He rubbed my clitoris while I grinded into his pelvis, drawing deep circles with my hips so he could feel all of my inside edges. Fluid pooled around his base as we brought me to orgasm. I fell forward onto his chest and rested my hands around his neck, his tight lips reaching.
Sunlight was beginning to filter through the buildings. He turned me around and sunk his whole shaft between my legs. I rammed my ass backward into him, us both thrusting smoothly yet animalistically to “Reckoner.” I shoved the probably nasty throw pillow against my face to quiet my echoing noises.
The muffled sounds synced with his boning like my cervix was a volume dial. His steady rhythm climaxed and he burst, grabbing hold of my body as we caved forward. His panting subsided and he stroked my hair while lying on top of me. He held me close and kept me warm as we watched the sun ascend.
How sad would Thom Yorke be if he saw what you did during this album?
Possibly disturbed, I suppose. Perhaps with some reasoning he would understand why fucking to his music was pretty much necessary in this situation. Probably nonetheless happy because of how the sun was rising in the background. Might have inspired him to write a song.
What did you like about your sexperience with this album?
I liked how it was easy to reignite with “15 Steps” right off the bat. As indicated in the above numbers, the musical progression also made it sexcellent. Oh, and the sex was good too, ya know. :P
What didn’t you like?
I didn’t like that the music wasn’t very loud (though that was obviously out of necessity). This made it more difficult to merge and connect the sex with the Radiohead. Also, I didn’t like how we didn’t get a chance to finish the album, particularly missing “Jigsaw Falling Into Place.”
Any other comments?
This album might deserve another review at a later date.
I don’t have the best long-term memory. I have to memorize via association for anything to actually stick. But despite barely remembering what I learned last semester, song beats and lyrics come naturally to me. I can listen to a song twice or thrice and have most of the words and melody embedded for up to five years.
This means that when I have sex with music playing, I remember it with a significantly enhanced clarity. I recall tiny details, such as exactly when the foreplay ended and the penetration began, when I orgasmed…it’s mad. Some of my partners have been completely defined in my mind by what discographies we fucked to.
Here’s a small sampling. Longer stories of these mystery partners will be revealed in due time.
‘Chutes Too Narrow’ intense love-making to The Shins with my long-term high school boyfriend; don’t worry, my vaginal expansion is not too narrow, it’s just tight enough…
Secret New York City sunrise fucking to Radiohead’s ‘In Rainbows’…
Ridiculous amounts of Incubus sex, every album except for Fungus Amongus in various states of non-sobriety (oh and seriously click that link, music video of a very fun-looking swinger’s club)…
Cheeky Kate Nash enjoyment, I would describe his cock as ‘Made of Bricks’…
We’ll continue these shenanigans later.