Sunday, 25 November 2012


"I hit my head really hard on the metal frame of my bedhead the other day," I said, after ladling myself a fifth spoonful of soup.
"All together now... aww," my dad said in a voice that resembled something like a monotonous drone being even more monotonous at the annual meeting of the Boring Club. I stopped short of suggesting he get one of those cards that says "Laugh" to hold up to the audience.

He wasn't there. It could have been serious... except it wasn't. It could have been. The metal's really hard, and I hit it at a rate of knots. There's a noticable bump if you really feel for it (it's in between one from being in a film in which my character's death involved throwing myself backwards onto a hard stone floor, and another one from hitting my head against a wall over and over again because there was nothing else to do. I have an interestingly-shaped head.), and if you press really firmly against it, it hurts. Obviously, I've been doing that a lot.

It's my own fault, really. My bed is a king-size and there's still not a lot of space to move during sex - to get enough leverage to drive hard I like my feet to be cupping the end of the frame, my hands to be holding the bedhead, or both. If I get enough rhythm going I can do this kind of bouncy thing (I think it's called "bouncing") which, although not for everyday use, gets me deep inside her repeatedly at a brisk rate. I like it, anyway. I think she does too.

(And it makes a change from piston-powered hip-thrusting, which is tried and true but can wear you out after a bit...)

Anyway - I was doing... something. I don't remember. It was incredibly hot sex, and just as it was building up, I felt my head being cleaved in half. I reared backwards - although this is the same motion I tend to make when I orgasm, so I'm not sure she noticed. I was going to check to see if my mortal enemy was around to actually cleave my head in twain, but I was in too much pain to do so (never mind the fact that I don't have a mortal enemy). In fact, I was in too much pain to do anything.

I lay on my back and realised that I couldn't even cry with pain, which is what I wanted to do but couldn't. I think it was both the shock and the pain that shook me up. My girlfriend panicked a bit, but since all I could say was "wrstfglip," I probably wasn't very good at reassuring her. It went something like this:

"Oh my god, baby! Are you okay?"

"Do you need me to get a doctor?"
"Do you want me to tell your parents?"
"Can I do anything at all?"
"I'm... I'm sorry for not making you come before I hit my head!"

Seriously, that was the thing I worried about the most. Concussion, brain damage and the loss of cerebral spinal fluid tossed casually aside in favour of apologising for not finishing her off properly on account of the fact that I'd managed to maim my own head in the pursuit of happiness.

I felt around to check that everything was still there. Yes, it all seemed fine. Painful like a particularly painful thing, but all still working. I felt at the time like I was going to lose consciousness, but I stayed awake for hugs and kisses anyway (well, wouldn't you?). I was dizzy, but steadied myself... although we didn't go back to sex afterwards. I may have been mercifully okay, but I probably wasn't up to repeating the experience.

Not really the sex injury I may consider particularly impressive, I do have to say, but I waa fortunate insofar as I didn't pass out from the pain. It's much more difficult to dispense reassurance/apologies when you're unconscious. But seriously though, sudden painful head injury and no sudden inability to move? I must have amazing constituti

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

It was literally the scariest moment in my life. I am incredibly glad you feel better, darling. I wouldn't have known what to do if it had been worse.