In other areas of life there are morning people and night people, and probably afternoon and evening people as well. Why should it be any different when it comes to sex? Where one person can’t think of a better way to start off the day than a might hump, the next person might rather have his or heels dipped in kerosene and set on fire.
Time being money, Field Research Coordinator Beth Kirichenko and Senior Field Associate Andy Jackson sought out time conscious respondents at the watch counter of various Manhattan jewelry and department stores, to ask:What’s your favorite time for sex?
Beth reports: “This question brought an unusual number of initial looks of puzzlement followed by nervous laughter and some surprisingly emphatic opinions. The survey reached its low point with the fellow who said his preferred time for sex was ‘in this lifetime, hopefully.’ If you had met him, you’d have known what he meant.”
S.C., eighteen, male, college freshman from Manhattan, single
I’m sure you’re hearing this a lot, but I’d have to say, “Anytime!”
Actually, if you mean, like, with another person, I haven’t quite done that yet, but I look forward to it. Meanwhile, I read all the letters in Forum as I, uh, you know. Sometimes I you know two, three times a day, or more. Morning, afternoon, night anytime. That’s what I love about college, living in a dorm and all. I don’t have to worry about my parents, like the time my mom walked in on me while I was
I think I’d rather not talk about that.
I.S., twenty five, female, deputy bank manager from Brooklyn, engaged
Like when I can get a little privacy, for starters. I have to have two roommates to be able to afford the tiny one bedroom apartment we live in, and what’s worse, my roommate Susan doesn’t give a damn about anyone else. She’s on her back from morning till night, it seems, so the bedroom is always off limits. The only time she’s alone is at night, when she literally sleeps.
Now Melanie, my other roommate, has taken over the living room. Some weekends I couldn’t get in my own apartment! I wind up begging a friend to take me in. Once I let a guy pick me up just for a place to stay. I just wanted to sleep, which made him so mad, he said he was going to throw me out.
I said, “Go ahead and try.” He backed off, and we fell asleep together, kind of cuddling. I got the best night’s sleep I’d had in months. Alan and I have since become really good friends such good friends, I wish I was the least bit attracted to him.
E.G., thirty two, male, investment adviser from Manhattan, single
I’ve never been much for strenuous activity in the morning. Even now, when that’s the only time I can get to the gym, I’m like a zombie through most of my workout.
There’s usually no problem with sex, because I manage to discourage the women I sleep with from, well, sleeping with me. That’s my idea of an ideal date: an hour or two of all out fucking, then a cozy shower, then see her to the door. Now I have my bed to myself, with no worry about being expected to perform in the morning, when, frankly, if I had any energy to burn, I’d rather do it at the gym.
Until I met Margo, that is. She’s a flight attendant, with a body that made my jaw drop. She was, shall we say, a very enthusiastic bedmate. Just thinking about her, even after all that happened, I feel my dick stirring. It was just a matter of time before we decided she’d move in with me. unfortunately, because of her schedule, she frequently came in while I was sleeping and then expected action in the morning. Even for luscious Margo, I wasn’t often, er, “up” to that.
I could never get her to understand that it was nothing personal, just the way my energy cycles a biorhythm thing. After a couple of months she started finding fault with my performance at “peak” times as well. I tell you, if she hadn’t been so fucking hot! Then, she was always saying how much she loved me, and how badly I treated her. I dealt with it when she said I was clearly a repressed homosexual. I dealt with it when she started talking about the affairs she was having with men all over the world. As the stories became more and more bizarre, I still dealt with it.
Finally she announced she was finished with men. We’re all the same, takers and users. By then I was almost relieved, and was quite happy to help her move her stuff to her new love nest, with a Swedish bombshell named Ingrid. Ingrid is every bit as hot as Margo, only blonde. Even now, I can’t think of a more erotic image than the two of them getting it on.
A few weeks later I was startled to get a call from Ingrid. Had I found Margo, she asked, a little, well, demanding? It was all I could do to not laugh it helped imagining Ingrid naked. I answered as gently and supportively as I could, and since then, she’s been calling more and more frequently. Almost every day now. I love our talks. Even on the phone, she’s so incredibly sexy.
Recently Ingrid confided to me that maybe the whole problem is that she’s just not a morning person. If you think you know what I’ve been thinking ever since, you’re fucking right.
H.K., twenty four, male, retail clerk from Queens, single
Does jerking off count?
L.S., forty, female, office manager from Weehawken, NJ, separated
This guy I was seeing claimed he had sexual peaks around lunchtime, and they got so bad, his system could get seriously harmed if he didn’t get some. My first impulse was to tell him to “deal with it,” but it’s not as if my sex life was so hot. So we started meeting for “nooners,” and it wasn’t long before we were doing it every day.
The only thing was, that’s the only time we did it. Once we were having regular daytime sex, Frank was hardly ever available at any other time. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that something stank. But the sex was good, and like I said, guys weren’t exactly beating down my door.
Of course I assumed he was married. The odd thing was that no only did he let me meet him at his office, he seemed to almost be showing me off to his coworkers. I figured if there was a wife and kiddies, surely they would know about it.
It all came to a head one day when we were doing it in this sleazy by the hour hotel room. This hideous woman stormed in and was shrieking, “Frank, how could you? Lying slut!” Actually, she wasn’t so hideous. In fact, she was rather attractive in a trampy way.
Frank happened to be on top of me, pumping his dick in and out, at that moment. But it was only a couple of seconds before there was nothing to pump. I couldn’t believe it when his limp dick started spewing cream! As he slithered off of me, I tried to cover myself with the filthy sheet, but that trampy wife of his ripped it off and stood over me, staring daggers.
“Yuck,” she said. I swear, she actually said, “Yuck.” Then she spat on me, and shrieked at him, “Jesus, how degrading! A woman? A real woman?”
Huh? By now I’d managed to wipe the various bodily fluids off me with the sheet and cover myself again, and get my glasses from the nightstand. I took a closer look and realized that “she” wasn’t, if you get my meaning.
Naturally, all sorts of questions raced through my mind, but I realized I didn’t really want answers. I got dressed and the hell out of there as fast as I could, and never heard from Frank or “Mrs. Frank” again.
N.O., thirty two, male, unemployed from the Bronx, divorced
Does jerking off count?
P.T., thirty two, male, marine antiquities broke from Philadelphia, divorced, remarried and separated
I’ve always been partial to the early evening, when I’ve had a chance to recover from the strains and stresses of the day and get my second wind. My ex wife, however, claimed that that was no good for her, so I tried to accommodate her, only there never seemed to be any time that was good for her.
Then one day I decided to surprise her and come home for lunch on a day when I knew she didn’t have any classes. She was a graduate assistant, so she both took and taught classes. As you’ve probably guessed, I really surprised her. Although from the sounds I heard out in the hall, what I found in our apartment wasn’t such a surprise.
They had pushed aside the coffee table, and right in the middle of the living room floor Cindy was getting plowed by this guy with such huge muscles all over, he looked like he stepped out of a bodybuilding magazine. When he pulled out of my wife, I was somewhat relieved to see that his hard on wasn’t all that big, but it occurred to me that I shouldn’t really be evaluating the size of some strange naked guy’s dick right there in my own living room.
I gather there are guys who actually like watching their wives get screwed. But I can safely say that that was the worst moment of my life, unless you count the ones that immediately followed. Cindy seemed to think she was making it better by saying, “Yes, he’s a student, but he’s not my student.” I didn’t see the up side in that news.
What was worse was that I couldn’t even get physical with the guy, not even if I’d been willing to get roughed up a little for the sake of defending my manhood. I mean, if I had tried to put the hit on this guy, he’d have turned me into a powder.
M.E., thirty four, female, cigar roller from Great Neck, NY, engaged
One time I can’t do it is right after I eat. Like I’ll have a guy over for dinner, and I’m still feeling all bloated from the crudit s and tofu strips, and this jerk’ll want to do it! Gross!
All Sex Survey questions are authentic. Only the answers are made up.