Why settle for boring old hanky-panky in your friend's rented apartment, when you can use history, practicality and unrivaled human suffering to spice things up?
Ah yes, the sex; the thing that people do to make more people that do more awful things. Although humanity as a whole has made immensely massive leaps and bounds in the field of hanky-panky, sooner or later, a time will come when even the kinkiest of private activities get stale. Sure, a ball-gag here, an Abba playlist there and some reverse-inverse-up-down-cowperson might be a reliable routine for your Thursday nights (or any night where sin is allowed really), but there is a veritable wealth of healthy, happy and horrifically fun sexual performances that you and any number of enthusiasts can get in on, and they're all inspired by the sights, scenes, trials and tribulations of our kind Egypt.
So why not take this young garbage-lord's seasoned "advice" and try out these surefire ways to add a leisurely dose of "I want to see other people" in that bedroom of yours? Maybe put some pep in your step? Some knock in your cock? An angina in your vagina? Some coitus in your...bed?
Not ones to neglect Egypt’s rich, storied past, what better way to celebrate 7,000 years of culture than with a Thursday night homage to one of the country’s (and the world’s) greatest historic wonders? Probably just missionary, but humour us for a bit here.
A wonderful exercise in cultural and consensual appreciation, the Sphinxter is a penultimate form of both achieving sexual oneness as well as promoting tourism (we are so getting arrested for this). This performance sees you or your not-so-significant other laying stomach-down peacefully on your preferred work surface (lightly sprinkled with sand for effect), with your upper body ever so slightly lifted, and your forearms tucked under for stability, pulling your knees historically towards your body with a proud, vigilant facial expression (nose entirely optional). Your partner then simulates a necessary level of confusion as they try to evade other (conveniently placed) nude folks assaulting your partner with offers to ride a camel for about EGP 250 on their way to enter your temple. Once your strategic entry has been achieved, you venerably make love to your partner while dressed as either a sluttier Napoleon Bonaparte, or a slightly less slutty German tourist (shorts and hiking boots are a plus).
Feel like spicing things up a bit? Add a bit of role-play to the mix by pretending you’re Indiana Bones, exploring a long-forgotten (and particularly moist) temple deep within the confines of the Sphinx (bullwhip highly encouraged).
If there was ever an instance in an Egyptian citizen’s life where they felt well and truly fucked, it would have to be your typical visit to the Mogamma3 for whatever official paperwork you needed to (horrifically) get done. So why not get done yourself with our patented bureaucratic romp for the ages?
Now this is a simple, homegrown example of an S&M staple that also happens to be the involuntary plight of most down on their luck Egyptians; orgasm denial. You’ll need a good five or six willing participants (tell them it’s for Cannes), a few boxes of extra-thick condoms (preferably red, black and white) and few stacks of “official” paperwork. Position your highly-trained staff in various (and inconvenient) areas of your house, making sure to give them all appropriate monikers such as Ostaz Mesel7y and Madam 3afaf (this is crucial goddammit), with one of them strategically sitting down on the floor pretending to be a shoe shiner. You’ll make an entrance into your stage and inquire about how to get your form filled, and then promptly getting directed to your initial “official” for an uncomfortably long signing, only to be abruptly cut short because you need another officials signature. From Madam 3afaf to Ostaz Mesel7y all the way to Bora3y Afandy, you’ll be going from one official to the other, getting briefly tended to (are these italics working for you?) but never having your forms fully filled, occasionally passing by your designated ”shoe” shiner for a good old spit shine.
For some added oomf, try pretending you’re a high ranking member of society and have another thespian do it all for you while you watch and relieve yourself (voyeurism at its finest). You won’t climax, but you’ll definitely enjoy it a fuck tonne more than actually going to the Mogamma3.
The Traffic Jam
Though traffic is a worldwide fuckfest of an inconvenience, it holds a special place in the horrified hearts and minds of modern day Egyptians, the 6th of October bridge’s daily fisting alone is another article in and of itself. So it was only necessary that we try to put a fun spin on an eternally exhausting endeavour.
Gather your troupe of actors from the Mogamma3 “shoot” for another unforgettable sexual performance, along with a few chairs, sofas, air horns, motor oil (you can never have too much lube) and three “traffic lights;” raunchy red, yearning yellow and gangbang green. Take your positions on the chairs, making sure to be as tightly packed together as possible, and with 98.80 playing on a nearby radio (with any luck, it should be Spanish Variety Hour). Once everybody’s in position, start the timer on the lights, making sure to start at exactly 69 seconds (we were never not going to use that one), your actors may relieve themselves as they wait to simulate anticipation, and when the light winds all the way down to green, all of you will have to literally ram into each other, frantically trying to poke or be poked as fast and as unequivocally dangerous as possible. If you do it just right, you should all look like a horrific jam on the Ring Road, except a lot sweatier and with enough satisfaction to get you to the office. Continue this cycle until you run out of gas.
For some added zing, consider pretending your car broke down and you need a bit of a push, or just literally fuck an exhaust pipe, it makes about as much sense as any of this really.
Even if you don’t own a vehicle of any sort, you’ll quickly infer through osmosis that mechanics truly are one of the chief banes of almost every Egyptians existence. You go in asking for a new spark plug and end up buying an extra exhaust pipe, forgetting the spark plug altogether. Speaking of exhaust pipes though…
This is a delightfully greasy spin on one of the most enjoyable methods of spicing up a dull sexual routine; roleplay (because nobody really loves themselves). You’re going to need a car (preferably a Verna), a miserably willing participant, worn and slightly tattered overalls, a wrench and all the malice in the universe. You go to your partner, the kinky mechanic, with your malfunctioning automobile pretending to be a gullible yet humble motorist, you then explain how you feel like you need an oil change and having your shifter looked at (italics are my bread and butter). You both enter your car and immediately begin to lubricate each other’s gears, making sure to test out the shifter manually while you’re at it. During the maintenance process, your mechanic notices that you have many other things that need fixing aside from what you originally walked in to examine, at which point they’ll almost literally put you through your paces in every way conceivable except tending to your most essential inquiry. After a lengthy (and almost entirely one-sided) process of elimination, your mechanic bills you for approximately EGP 4800, and sends you on your way.
To add a bit more torque to your maintenance, leisurely employ some zip-ties to keep things secure, and maybe even make use of a compressed air gun for some thorough sensory enjoyment.
Expats have a special place in the hearts and minds of Egyptians far and wide, bearing in mind that special doesn’t always mean good. To have gone this far without some blatant racism from my side is a feat in and of itself, and what better way to tackle some good old inequality than with
horrible fulfilling sexual pleasure?
For this half-assed power play scenario, you’re going to need a willing Egyptian partner, a fake passport, a handful of dollars (monopoly money will do), a good bit of white foundation powder and an unhealthily sheltered and moderately naïve persona. Once you’ve applied enough inequality to your face using the powder, position your local (savage) partner in such a way that they’ll always be beneath you, making sure to sexually (and consensually) take as much as you can from their severely underpaid body while only giving a strategic fraction of work on your end. If your partner starts to complain about your performance, immediately smack their behinds with your passport as you go off on a rant about how difficult it is to live without good bacon, your favourite craft beer and having to wade through the icky traffic and rude people of Egypt. If at any point you feel like your partner is nearing climax, immediately stop and flex your faux privilege, taking a break to check your phone for any messages from your spouse, because you’re definitely married and hiding it. Once you’ve had a passable experience at the expense of some throwaway local, set some time aside before you leave to tell a whimsical story of how you got so drunk in some random southeast Asian country that you straight up murdered a family.
For a measure of added pleasure; constantly complain during the act about how you can never find a good frozen yoghurt place, or about how Egyptians just don’t get you at all, but the Australian dude from HR truly understands your plight as a foreigner in a third world country. Also, try eating ass.
We hope that these few sticky, sweaty and totally viable alternatives to your bog-standard missionary coitus (I like to call it the rotisserie chicken position) would add a fair bit of zing to your (most likely) stagnant sexual routine, and hope that we can come up with even more ways to
debase yourselves fully explore your sexual potential in the future. Egypt might be full of hellish ordeals, but that doesn’t mean your sex life has to be as bad.