Warning: As you could probably guess, the post called “So You Want to Have Sex In Space” contains some mature themes and unnecessarily graphic content. Naturally reader discretion is advised, I’m talking to you Grandma!
So you managed to book two tickets on your personal spacecraft of your choice (personally I’d go with the SpaceShipTwo, but that’s just me), and somehow convinced the girl sitting next to you to join in on your idiotic idea to Get Jiggy Wit’ It in space. Congratulations, I don’t know how you managed to get any space agency to let you up there (I bet it was the Chinese, it was the Chinese wasn’t it, bloody attention-whores), but some how you did. Well before you hop on that rocket (both of them) I should warn you about some…um…things, you may want to sit down for this.
Without going into my history too much, let’s just say that I’m not much of an expert on the sexy times (especially since I refer to it as the sexy times). But if there’s one thing I know, it’s space, and if there’s anyone qualified enough to tell you how all your squishy bits will react in a micro-gravity environment, it’s me (and/or anyone whose actually been to space). And besides I’ve taken health class, so I know my way around.
Credentials aside, there are a few fundamental logistical problems associated with slamming your genitals together in zero-G. Under normal circumstances you have something to anchor yourself to, be it a bed, or the floor, or the wall, or whatever other surfaces you decide to defile with your disturbing fetishes.
In zero-g however you have no such luxury. No, you have to do your thrusting whilst floating about. Free roam boning may sound cool but the problem is zero-g makes for a bumpy ride. For one not only will the two of you be flying around erratically while all this is going on, but you’ll also be bumping into things, fairly frequently too considering the size of most modern spacecraft. Secondly, as you do the whole In-n-Out thing (so that’s where they got the name from!) you will have to repeatedly push your partner away then immediately pull them back, jerking them around while they jerk you off. To visualize this, imagine you and your partner are picked up by say The Rock.
now try and get it on while he violently shakes you back and forth. I don’t know what kind of weird shit you’re into, but that does not sound enjoyable. Best case scenario one of you will probably throw up. This is actually a problem on the Space Station. Imagine trying to type up an email if every keystroke made you start flying towards the wall behind you. To get around this there are lots of anchoring straps and things positioned all around most spacecraft. I suppose if you were especially dedicated to the idea you could strap yourself into the C.O.L.B.E.R.T.
If you can’t tell from the picture, it’s a treadmill that uses elastic band to simulate gravity (good for all you bondage fans out there). Assuming you didn’t turn it on, it would allow you to get it on with out flying off in opposite direction. But it’s not really space boning if you’re not floating around all willy nilly now is it?
That’s not all though. Assuming you manage to get past all of those technical hurdles there is still one more very serious issue to consider. An integral part of the whole sex thing is a number of bodily fluids. Hey do you know what happens to fluids in zero-g?
Let me set up the scene. You and your mate have just finished having your sexy time, you managed to find some way to anchor yourself so it didn’t feel like you were losing a wrestling match the The Rock. The two of you cuddle for a moment before going off to shower or what have you (since you’re both smelly, and trapped in a confined space). You exit the shower and are immediately bombarded by a giant ball of semen.
Actually, giant balls of man-juice are the least of your concerns, what you should be worried about are the tiny droplets that have undoubtably covered every inch of every available surface aboard your spacecraft.
Have you ever had a sticky keyboard? I haven’t because I’m not a disgusting slob, but imagine trying to land 165,000 lb spacecraft when your controls are gummed up with whatever the hell qualifies as “vaginal secretions”
Look, exploration is great, it’s how we found out about this place called “America”, but just be warned, space pussy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Personally, I’d stick to the terrestrial kind.
In other news today marks our Blogiversary! As always I want to thank you all for tuning in and reading all my silly rants. It’s the modest amount of public recognition by you my readers, that has made it all worth while through the years. Thank you.