Many years ago I wrote a story I called "The Bet." I posted it to a humour list, which sent it to a lady in San Diego. She shared it, as she often did, with her good friend Rebecca ( @enchantedspirit ) in the wilds of New Mexico.
On New Year's Eve I received an email from Rebecca saying "Catweasel, I love you." My fate was sealed.
What follows is the bait I used.
I was having a discussion with a friend a while back when she claimed there are 69 positions. I felt that in fact there are only 68, and bet her £50, on condition that she prove it. She accepted my bet, and we arranged to set aside the next weekend to settle the matter.
We warmed up in a 69, my favourite number, then got down to serious business. We did it doggy style, we did it several ways in a chair, we did it standing up. We spooned, we did it in full and half lotus, we did the wheelbarrow. We had sex in ways I can't remember, and often we would return to soixante neuf to re-lubricate.
Late Sunday evening we had tried 66 positions, and my friend could not think of any more. She asked me if I could think of any we'd missed, and being a gentleman I replied, "Well, there's head to toe."
She lay on the bed, legs slightly apart, and I got on top, taking a big toe in my mouth to add to her pleasure. Suddenly she remembered the airplane position, and told me to spin slowly like a propeller, maintaining penetration all the while. This eventually brought us into... the missionary position.
Best fifty quid I ever lost.
Trust me, I'm a doctor.
Catweasel
Two wrongs are only the beginning.