For her part, Jenny tried to help, shifting and adjusting herself so that I didn't slip and break her nose with my forehead. She didn't say much, which was a kindness on her part, but there were a few giggles that she couldn't contain. Maybe for straight guys it's more intuitive, but let me just say — this was work. Oddly enough, we never thought to switch positions (perhaps because the pause might cause the entire experiment to come crashing down), but in hindsight it might have made things simpler. There was another problem: over-compensating for both my Hooksexups and my homosexuality, I'd had too much to drink, which wasn't helping my performance. I needed reinforcement, and so I reached into the second drawer, the one I'd hoped was the most innocuous when my friends dropped by, and pulled out a stack of Honchos.
I fully admit that I'm not proud of this. I tell myself now that at least I didn't place the glossy pages right over her face. (In truth, they were just to the right of her face, on a pillow.) Not only did I know that this could've made Jenny feel especially unfulfilled, but I felt like I was sneaking out a sheet of equations during a math test. It helped me get through the experience, but it certainly didn't help me learn any math.
"Sorry about this," I said to her from above.
 Over-compensating for my Hooksexups and my homosexuality, I'd had too much to drink. I needed reinforcement...
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She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Charming," she smirked. Actually, she was in surprisingly good spirits about this whole thing.
After pumping away ineffectually for a while, we both agreed that this probably wasn't going to work. I knew there was no orgasm in store for me, and definitely none for Jenny. But I felt bad — after all, she was the one who volunteered for my bout of sexual experimentation. She should get something, anything, out of the experience. And so I tried my hand, literally, at giving her some manual pleasure. I don't know what I was expecting (maybe some kind of bell to go off when I actually touched her clitoris?), but for lack of better ideas I sort of moved my hand back and forth, then in small circles, intending to repeat ad orgasm. This lasted all of one minute.
"Okay," she said, pushing my arm away. "Listen, you put in a good effort. I think we should call it a night." And with that, she put her clothes back on, grabbed my remote, and started channel surfing.
Conclusion:
I didn't fail at this experiment, but I'm not sure I succeeded. In the strictest sense, I did have sex with a girl. Since I am a guy, it was heterosexual sex. But simply achieving that outcome wasn't quite mastering the spirit of the endeavor. I wanted to see if I could find sexual pleasure with a woman. It's not that it didn't feel okay, or maybe even good — the physical response of a penis to that kind of motion is undeniable — but the experience lacked any sexual spark. I still think women are amazing, but that didn't translate in the bedroom. I'm sure many of you have heard this before, but I truly mean it: women of the world — it's not you, it's me.
The next morning, Jenny found the night more humorous than anything else, which would have hurt my pride if I hadn't agreed. I've had worse mornings after by far, and we both picked up a good story to tell in bars.
So I can't say I'm sorry I did it. And it really made me believe that it's probably in everyone's best interest — gay, bi, straight, whatever — to allow ourselves some flexibility when it comes to sex. It's true that I thought I wouldn't be into sex with a girl and then discovered that indeed I wasn't. But that's not so bad; the real shame would be if I actually had the capacity to enjoy it, but never bothered to find out. And that's a message all of us, especially cute straight guys in their twenties, should take to heart.
Read more I Did It For Science here.
©2009 Marc Wilson and hooksexup.com
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