Warning: Excessive Bliss May Be Good For You

I would have said that “the Guy has this saying,” but according to Google, there’s 14,700 hits for the phrase “post-coital bliss.”
It’s all about the PCB. Blissed out and riding that wave back to normalcy. Nothing recharges the batteries like a good lay, don’t ya think?
It’s Saturday morning (as if you didn’t know) and it’s cooler than it has been, but not cold. There’s 94% humidity – yep, count it, 94% — and the air’s got that built in chill-enhancer that’s not so friendly in the morning. Still, I’m in bare feet, just not happily naked like I normally am in the morning. Oh, well. The headache burrowing into the back of my skull’s not really a high point this morning, either, but I’m ignoring it and listening to Gomez over my headphones anyhow.
The gym was supposed to be my destination, but I have that all-over-body sore that says somethin’ physical’s been up of late. (The dirty s-e-x, that’s what. I tell ya, the death-grip with your legs around the waist, hiking him towards ya, good fer thighs and ass and abs, ladies.) I figure instead I’ll do some ab work, play with free weights, write, watch TV a spell, and then that’s my day. The Guy hobbles over, crutches and all, to my place this evening.
Back to the more interesting of topics thus far, PCB. It was after the dirty s-e-x that the conversation steered towards the PCB. Nothing takes a sting out of a working man’s week better than getting him laid by 10 on Friday, you know. My guy’s cut from a slightly different cloth. Instead of having sex (the dirty s-e-x, even) and rolling over to sleep the sleep of the dead, he gets energized. He actually enjoys cuddling and talking after a good shagging. How do ya like that? Now that’s serious PCB, folks. He even gave me a couple decent writing topics.
I, for one, am a big fan of the PCB, baby. Sex for everybody, says I. Didn’t you get the memo? I took over the duties of World Domination and Universal Autocrat as of midnight last night.
Lucky for you fuckers, too.
Sex for everybody. Yep. Just step right over here to your frequency lanes and pick a number you’d like as your sexual quota each week. What, three times? Four? More? All rightie, then. Pick a lane, any lane. That’s the number of times you’ll be getting’ your love on each week, my friends.
Ah, if only. I would make such a KICK-ASS dictator. None of the genocide crap, man. No illegal law enforcement. No intimidation. All about the bliss, baby. Personal freedoms for everyone, medical insurance discounts for anyone getting shagged often, sex toys would be tax deductible… If only.
In my pie-in-the-sky utopia, I’d have sex four to six times a week. A couple double-dips and such in there, of course, as well as lazy sleep-in, clothes-off, shaggin’ Sundays.
I’m looking forwards to next month. We’re on the verge of warm, warm nights now, and I’m thinking how much I’m gonna love those late-night just-got-laid departures – riding through the fragrant streets on warm, breezy nights, my scooter weaving back and forth under canopied streets as various perfumes from flowers assail me and cooler air pockets surprise me. Sigh. That’s always the best time to be out commuting in the world: a summer night after sex.
(There you go – a road rage solution. Road rage is all because people aren’t having sex enough. C’mon, people! Spread the sex around. Let’s reclaim our streets. Nice, happy drivers who just couldn’t give a shit if you go faster. They’re thinking about getting a little more of the shaggin’ they just had. A far better traffic pattern would emerge, I bet.)
Y’know, I went out for years with this guy who lived about 35 minutes away from me, and I still, to this day, remember loving the ride home almost as much as I enjoyed the sex and/or his company. It’d be 4am, and I’d be driving out on a highway that always had this awesome turn-off that made it feel like you were driving literally into the sunrise. Whoosh, around the bend, and back headed south-east, towards the sunrise again. I almost always took the long way home.
There’s just something great about sex in the summer. It’s better when you have a fan to cool yourselves off after all that work, but hey, seasonal shagging’s all good. I love staying in for sex in the winter, but if you have to leave, it’s such a bitterly cruel contrast – the cold, cold nights against the warmth and sweat and fury of your recent encounter. Yeah, I’ll take this… summer and the PCBs.

13 thoughts on “Warning: Excessive Bliss May Be Good For You

  1. Memoirs of a Sheila

    Seasonal sex ? Interesting. Maybe Australian summer sex is different.I never seem to get laid in Summer. Winter sex wins hands down.

  2. myself

    Ok Steff, you’re officially depressing me seeing as I have returned back to the ranks of the “ain’t getting none”. And I am neither a happy girl, nor a pleased girl, at all, in the least!

    But, that said, I know what’s you’re saying about the PCBs. Drove from Montreal to Ottawa late one night about a month ago, on a whim, the former “he” & I decided I should stay over at his place instead of him coming to mine. The drive back a day later was probably one of the happiest drives back to Montreal I’ve ever had (gotta love morning sex, yummy). Absolutely blissful, nothing was wrong, being cut-off on the 417 didn’t matter, I was in a fabulous place, just pleased as punch.

    Someday I’ll remember that sort of thing again, one hopes 🙂

  3. scribe called steff

    jbj — yeah, but it’s warm there all the time. 😛 this is canada! it’s COLD in the winter!!

    myself — well, i’d say i’m sorry for getting laid, but i’m not. i’m sorry you’re not getting laid, though. so, there’s that.

    hey, i know, i have a megaphone, remember?

    montreal girl in need of shagging, boys. prove your worth; step in line and declare your intentions! may the best man get PCBs with this fine quebecois specimen.

  4. scribe called steff

    Oh, have you contributed to the campaign just yet, Katie?

    Allow me to introduce you to my treasurer…

    Hardy-har-har. 😉

  5. orchid

    I’m operating on a high level of PCB these days, powerful enough to sustain me hours and hours after the C of PCB has happened. It’s lovely.

    As is your photo. I thought it was a coral at first.

  6. theAxe

    hey steff this is my first comment here. I started reading your blog through bacchus’s links on erosblog and have gotten addicted. Anyway, i wholeheartedly support Steff for Dictator and was wondering if there’s a nine times a week line?

  7. scribe called steff

    Orchid — Spiffy, isn’t it? Thanks for the compliment about my photo. 🙂 I like abstracting nature. Tis fun.

    TheAxe — Heh! Of course there’s a nine-times-a-week line. My four-to-six number was days per week, though. I’d hope for about nine experiences, myself, or at least nine orgasms. All good.

    Anyhow, I’m glad you’re addicted! I’m good for you, not one of those nasty addictions you need to rehab with.

    As for Dictator, why, I’d thank you for your vote, but since I’ve declared myself Universal Autocrat, it’s really a moot point, no? 😉

  8. SumisuYoshi

    I’m a big fan of PCB… not as common these days though. I nearly always want to go again/talk/cuddle/etc. and never fall asleep, but my girlfriend is sort of the opposite. She wants to sleep/go get food/take a bath/read/watch TV. We’re odd like that.

    When it happens though, the PCB is delicious. Nothing can beat that feeling.

  9. Spice

    The Man’s like that- except he actually hates cuddling, so right atfer sex he jumps up and puts his clothes back on.

    Which, in my opinion, is no fun…

    I on the other hand, get sleepy and just want to be cuddled affter sex.

  10. A Scribe Called Steff

    1. Anonymous
    Posted September 10, 2007 at 2:59 pm | Permalink | Edit
    It’s normality, there’s no such word as normalcy. 😉
    2. Scribe Called Steff
    Posted September 10, 2007 at 3:52 pm | Permalink | Edit
    Nice try, but no, it is a word. Obscure, archaic even, but it is indeed a word. Normality is a preferred form.
    But I live outside the norm. Try dictionary look-up next time.

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