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On occasion, however – for whatever reason – the magic just isn’t there.
Indeed, on what might be termed an ‘off day’ the act of sexual congress can degenerate into an ugly, unsightly farce.
We caught up with three luckless lads whose memorably mucky mishaps may serve as a warning to horny chancers everywhere.
Or just give us all a damn good laugh.
Our failed threesome
At the tail end of a weekend bender, my flatmate Josh and I found ourselves alone in the living room with a certain young Portuguese lady.
She’d followed a friend back to ours after a gig, was extraordinarily pretty, and for whatever reason seemed to find us both intriguing.
Conversation turned to sex, as it inevitably does when you’re in your early 20s and a dozen Bulmers in.
Despite our skanky surroundings – all bare lightbulbs and pungent miasma of skunk smoke – an unspoken understanding arose between the three of us that, hey, we’re all clean and OK looking. It’s ‘on’.
Josh quietly snicked the door shut, so as not to wake our housemates.
With loaded glances and lip biting, we proceeded to undress.
Some classy R’n’B was summoned on Spotify, and we took turns tenderly making out with the young lady, who seemed delighted with how the evening was shaping up.
After a tasteful period of light petting, it was time to, as it were, get stuck in.
Yet there was a problem.
Blame the cider, or the poor ambiance – neither of us could get it up.
The young lady’s mood – after a skillfully ambidextrous attempt at tackling our inadequacy – shifted rapidly from arousal to amusement, through disbelief and then outrage.
And shame, as she gathered her garments and summoned an Uber in silence.
We never saw her again.
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