Post-Call Horniness Syndrome

I think perhaps I have to revise my seven seconds theory.

Honestly on mornings that I've just finished my call early in the wee hours, it's quite possible that I think about sex in intervals far shorter than the seven seconds I mentioned. I call it my Post-Call Horniness Syndrome. Makes me sound like a rampaging sex maniac doesn't it? Fortunately for mankind at large, I haven't actually lost my tenuous grasp on sanity ( and concern for my well-being ) to run around pillaging and molesting innocent, virile young villagers everywhere.

Kinda like the stud below.


Musn't think of sex. Musn't think of sex. Musn't think of sex!
In fact you'll find that most of the mornings I've mentioned are quite mundane without untoward incidents of sexual assault - since I actually find myself having leisurely breakfast dim sum with Charming Calvin. Of course my poor quietly smiling victim remains quite oblivious to the fact that he's just a hairsbreadth away from getting forcibly slammed and ravished mindlessly on the dangerously rickety table ( one short disproportioned leg propped up with bits of discarded newspaper ) amongst the steamed dumplings, the glutinous rice and the fragrant tea to the astonishment of the horrified patrons - and some of the more delicious waiters. Fortunately for his easily bruised dignity and the propriety of the respectable establishment, I usually refrain from such wild animalistic urges, usually due to the fact that I'm far too exhausted the morning after to do anything more strenuous than lift my chopstick.

Of course sometimes after being adequately revived by a decent repast, I still manage to drag him back to his cave - even before he finishes his glutinous rice ( a must for the Hakka boys! ) - just to enact my horny caveman routine of the beast with two backs. Grr... Sweaty... Hot... Mate...Now...

Really. Don't worry, I'm not the only guy to mismatch unusual euphemisms for sweaty mind-blowing sex. Seems like ever since Jaunty Jared has met his match, he's been coming up with all sorts of unusual - though surprisingly original - euphemisms for getting jiggy with it.

Paul : So when will you be arriving? Are you with him?
Jared : Yeah, we're taking a brief nap.
Paul : A nap? Huh.

Paul : So what happened then? Did you talk to him about the problem?
Jared : No, I gave him a hug.
Paul : A hug? Huh.
Jared : Really. He was deeply appreciative of the gesture.
Paul : Yeah, I bet he was.

Paul : When is he coming back?
Jared : Maybe this weekend, he has a special personal project to fulfil.
Paul : And you're the satisfied client?

Obviously Jared is getting some.

Occasionally feinting a headache - usually coinciding with public displays of inappropriate affection, our Victorian prude Charming Calvin finds me terrifyingly oversexed ( is three times day unreasonable? ) while I find him quite the opposite. :) Shockingly enough, the man claims not to think of sex at every available moment! Sometimes he even thinks of other mundane personal matters like bills and such. You can imagine that I stared at him in bewildered consternation since half the time even during a movie I can barely concentrate since I'm thinking of shoving him down between the seats for some hasty backseat nookie. Hell, a half-way decent hottie strolls by and it's all I can do not to slam him against the nearest wall and hump him.

Maybe Calvin's right :P I'm a sexaholic. I blame the Post-Call Horniness Syndrome. Now how am I gonna fit in extra sessions between my Shopaholics Anonymous?