So, with a renewed sense of optimism I decided it was time to get stuck in and start my mission. With my sleeves firmly rolled up and girlfriend at the ready, I delved deep in search of this gynaecological UFO.
According to my very detailed and in depth research (ie, according to random websites and women’s magazines) the G-spot is said to be no bigger than a penny and located about one or two inches inside the front vaginal wall. Theoretically it’s easy enough to detect, providing you’ve engaged in hot and steamy foreplay to get her suitably moist and engorged.
Laying her on her back, I assumed the "come hither" position with my index finger and let it wander, looking for that elusive, supposedly rough area that would unleash the inner lava of her love. Or something.
After what seemed like an eternity (or five minutes as I was later informed) my tapping attempts didn't seem to be achieving the desired effect. Nor did my attempts to find it in the sure-to-hit-the-spot missionary position (and, yes, we'd even stuffed cushions under her bum as suggested). Nothing. Nada. Mission aborted.
We succumbed to the fact that maybe she's not one of the G-spot girls. Not that it really mattered, as we had fun trying to find it. And that's the moral of this sordid, science-strewn story. While the G-spot may well be a blessing if it's there (and if it's expertly toyed with), the important thing is to stop fretting and just enjoy the whole experience. Instead of acting like a scientist in the sack, it's surely better to chill out and push the buttons you know do exist. Happy lovin'!
