Sucked In + Girls on Girls

Sucked In + Girls on Girls

By Eugene S. Robinson

Sex with Eugene


Because being a lousy lay must be, um, lousy. 

By Eugene S. Robinson


EUGENE, SIR: I had some friends stay over. I live in a dorm and my beds are in the shape of the letter L and take up a wall a piece. We went to sleep. No drugs and alcohol were involved. About 11 minutes after we turned the lights out, the two of them started making out. Then from there to taking clothes off. Then to sex. At this point I thought I was being invited to join in and so I made a move. She screamed, he screamed out, and then everybody screamed at me. I’m thinking here at this point it’s really them not me, right? —El

Dear Three’s a Crowd: You, dear reader, have my sympathies. It seems, in life, very often you will get messages like “Pet the bear” or “Go ahead and pet the bear” or “The bear wants you to pet it,” only to discover when all is said and done that the bear was receiving a whole other set of life messages. Life messages along the lines of “Dinner” or “Tear his ass up.”

You, sir, are that dinner. And that ass.

While it definitely seems to ME that they were extending an invitation, since it seems that no one could have possibly been asleep after 11 elapsed minutes and even if they were asleep would be highly likely to be awakened by the sexy happening in the bed right next to them, it is clear that they disagree. Making them either incredibly rude or incredibly into a scene that involves some sort of ritualized humiliation. Yours, specifically.

So, yes, it’s them, not you, who are out of line, in my mind. If they wanted privacy they could have asked you to leave or gone to a motel. But maybe they’re exhibitionists and really just wanted an audience, in which case they would not have minded at all you masturbating in the middle of the room while watching them. Of course, this is all moot since the moment has passed. But if it ever again occurs? My vote is for middle-of-the-room masturbation. Sending in no uncertain terms the message propagated by Cab Calloway: “Everybody eats when they come to MY house.”

And: Yes, I did just say that.


Sapphic Solutions

EUGENE, SIR: I am now involved with a darling ladygirl here, and I don’t want to mess it up. Being a shade too dependent at times is like a latent tendency of mine that can appear, and it scares me. I need to snuff out that tendency soon because it might be approaching or waiting in the wings, ready to pounce. I like her very much and she feels the same way about me. I feel like I have won the girl-on-girl lotto. Help. Any advice? —Lucrecia

Dear Lucrecia My Reflection: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: The name of this column is “Sex With Eugene” very specifically because the tar baby of SEX advice columns? You got it: love/relationship queries. A quagmire of confusion, it defies measure — and those seeking to measure it won’t listen anyway. Sex is like science almost. I mean oral sex is irreducibly oral sex, even if you’re having it with a priest. 

So while I am tempted to throw your question back to the brine, I’m going to answer this one for the simple reason that you’re named after one of my favorite Sisters of Mercy songs.

Ready for some very possibly ill-conceived “relationship” advice? OK: Set a text/call limit of no more than once every other day and you should be fine. Hope that helps!


Look Into My Eyes

EUGENE, SIR: My woman and I have been talking about a foursome for a long time. We were nervous and needed to think about it a bit. Finally we took this other couple up on their offer of going to Vegas with them. One suite. We didn’t know what would happen but we went with the idea that something would happen. What happened is that they came back to the room a little bit after us and started having sex on our bed. Not something that happens every day, but we took our clothes off and started having sex. With each other. When I tried to reach out my hand to touch the other woman, my woman pulled my hand back. When I looked over at the other woman, my woman demanded that I look her in the eyes. Total torture. She still refers to this moment as a “foursome” and calls it a success. I say it was not. Thoughts? —Pacino

Dear Mang: Well, there are lots of iterations of foursome. The swap kind, the group kind or the kind you happened to have: just four people having sex with whom they came with. Where your woman excels is to completely rob you of any of the sexual/visual benefits of such like activity. While you did have the audio, imagine instead a dinner where you just ignore the other couple, outside of the occasion of eavesdropping on their light meal chatter. Now replace that chatter with the inimitable sounds of love. And you having to focus on NOT focusing on them. 

Satanic. However, these were the rules of the game that you happened to be playing, and while you could have changed them by being more forceful, your sensitivity is to be applauded. In any case, it seems you two are not ready for prime-foursome-time. Deal with it, since the reality of it is that group scenes within a relationship (see above)? Will always be complex.