Did you know that you can actually take something called Volume Pills to increase the amount of cum that you ejaculate? Volume Pills are totally natural and safe to use. It looks and feels absolutely amazing to shoot a lot more of that white stuff all over, or inside of, your partner.
But you won’t find any mention of Volume Pills in that famous sex manual “The Joy of Sex.” This was a major influence on my growth as a sexual being. But to be honest, it’s a bit of a weird book when you come to think about it.
It is, like all sex manuals, an almost oppressively cheerful and morally high-toned book. It isn’t just the lack of information about Volume Pills, or the line drawings – with that man and that woman who always look like Mr. Spock embarked on a pretty tricky sequence in a game of three dimensional chess – but the cheery, go-for-it style of the prose.
It seems to me to have all the worst features of a guidebook and a shopping catalogue – now warning its readers not to indulge in homosexual behavior, now urging them to fantasize about this or that – all with the rectitude and pioneering spirit of a Boy Scout.
And those positions! Why do you have to stand on your head with your left elbow cradling her right buttock? What is so erotic about contriving a love position in which the major feature of your partner on view is their armpit or left ear rather than, say, the face?
Sex, as Kingsley Amis was fond of remarking, is one of the hardest of all human activities to write about well. If you abandon the grotesque or the comic, before you know where you are you are talking about the earth moving or (if you are really unlucky) churning out tacky silliness like the flower-throwing scene in “Lady Chatterley’s Lover”. Sex manuals, by definition, have to desensitize the subject to write about it – whereas, of course, all it is is sensation.
The first sex manual I ever came across was left around by my mum for my brother and me to find. It was a lot more high-principled even than “The Joy of Sex”. There were hardly any illustrations apart from a line drawing of a girl about to experience menstruation for the first time, captioned: “You may feel a little funny!” which my brother and I found erotic in the extreme.
While there was no mention of Volume Pills, there was a brief paragraph about nocturnal semen emissions that I must have read about 348 times, and numerous pictures of young people hiking or camping or rock climbing, in order to ward off the urge to masturbate.
When these had been thumbed into blurred oblivion, I was deputed to go and ask Mum about the facts of life. She made a pretty good stab at it – although she did go on about “bearing the seed” which caused us to snigger helplessly – but I think she knew the manual had already done its work.
Sex, like Latin verbs or the best place to park in Soho, really is one of those things you have to find out about for yourself. Yet, even nowadays, when everything from dildos to Volume Pills are a regular feature of almost every other program on late-night television, I suspect the manual is still as drearily necessary as ever it was. For our feelings and desires always run ahead of our intelligence and our understanding; and simply trying to describe them, in however crude or obvious a form, is a necessary way of trying to civilize them.
We know – with all our instincts – that it doesn’t work, but in generation after generation we make the hopeless attempt, with tasteful drawings or vague moral generalities, to contain, explain and even to civilize rude, cruel, and untrustworthy lust.
Meanwhile, why not try Volume Pills and see what some simple natural ingredients can do for your sex life? It might be better than any manual at improving your sex life.