A man is out shopping and discovers a new brand of Olympic condoms. Clearly impressed, he buys a pack. Upon getting home he announces to his wife the purchase he just made.

“Olympic condoms?” she asks, “What makes them so special?”

“There are three colors,” he replies, “Gold, Silver and Bronze.”

“What color are you going to wear tonight?” she asks cheekily.

“Gold of course,” says the man proudly.

The wife responds, “Really, why don’t you wear Silver, it would be nice if you came second for a change!”

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Cosmopolitan magazine calls it The Love Seat, but it’s also known as the Reverse Cowgirl position.

Him laying with his back propped up, legs spread, gives you good support and reduces the space between you, allowing for more interaction. While he’s back there — why not a good massage? Your back, butt, neck … Maybe a little hair-tugging to really intensify the moment.

This is a great position when you — the one on top — is aiming to please, but that does involve some work on your part! While you’re on top, your hands and feet will propel you up and down on his shaft …

Nevertheless, you are in total control to make sure he hits exactly where you want. Good times!

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Last night’s pillow talk was made possible not just by my exceptional bedroom skills but by Classic Erotica’s Silky Sheets Pheromone Powder Mist and Passion Pillows Pheromone Pillow Mist. Yeah, ok, not like my lucky mate usually jumps out of bed and heads for the door after sex but the fresh scent of the sprays really enhanced the cuddling, kissing and speaking of sweet nothings.

Instead of laying on sweaty, sex-scented sheets we were surrounded by a fresh floral smell and the sheets felt as if they had been just changed. There’s powder in the spray that somehow absorbs much of the wetness that while fun to create, I’d rather not roll around in. Instead, our post-coital love fest took place on a bed of crisp freshness!

Think of Silky Sheets (and its companion pillow mist) as Febreze’s sexy cousin.

(As noted on the back of the Silky Sheets) I couldn’t use the spray on my pillows because of its powdery consistency, and that’s why Classic Erotica created a companion pillow spray with the same lovely effects. While we spooned I dug my face into my pillow, breathed in and couldn’t help but sigh as I exhaled.

Being the skeptic that I am, I want to question the existence of the “pheromones” contained in these bottles … but really, the experience was so incredible that I’m starting to believe Classic Erotica actually found a way to bottle Eros — the Greek god of sexual love.

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Bambi strolls in from a longer-than-usual lunch.

Co-worker: Oooh, where’d you go for lunch?

Bambi: (grinning) Umm..well..err…

Co-worker: (grins back) ‘nough said.

Nooners will send you back to work a completely different person. While side effects may include disheveled appearance and hunger — who cares?

Endorphins course through you and you breeze through the remainder of the day confident and elated. And no, the occasional nooner does not make you a slacker. Party pooper Prolactin, a sex hormone, rises in you immediately after an orgasm, and this is when all the stuff you have to accomplish that day flood your mind. Focused much? This might be the most productive moment of the day!

When it comes to the nooner, time is of the essence. Ideally you are a seasoned team and you know how to make this lunch break far more satisfying than any meal — and in record time. My nooner date and I save time by almost completely cutting out any type of conversation beyond “Yes, right there!” “How do you want it?” and “oohs” and “ahhs.”

Convenience also plays a very important role in the success of a nooner. The meeting place should be easily accessed — you don’t want to spend more time sitting in traffic than on your man’s face.

Lastly, if it’s just you and your too-conveniently-located home … save your lunch money, take a solo nooner break, grab a snack on the way out.

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There are mixed reviews when it comes to pets in the bedroom. Some pet owners love their dogs, cats, gerbils, etc. so much they feel turning their backs on them for even a minute is negligent.

A dog-owning, cohabitating friend told me she and her significant other prefer the pooch in the bedroom to make sure it doesn’t fuck things up in the living room while they … um, fuck.

Personally, it totally wierds me out to be in the throws of passion and out of the corner of my eye see Fido sitting on the bed, chewing on my panties (true story), watching – and bouncing along with – all the action. Not because I fear Rover is going to get frisky and stir up some zoophiliac emotions in me. (Eww,) but does the animal really know what’s going on? I’ve heard some dogs whimper or will bark at the sight of their owners having sex … Why?!

Well, I did the research. So before you call The Dog Whisperer, please note:  Dogs (and other pets) are incapable of secondary emotions. And while the barking and whimpering may be a dog’s reaction to the aromas of sex or its tuned-in senses, veterinary behaviorists will tell you it has no idea you’re getting it on. So knick-knack-paddy-whack … give your dog a bone (Really. They like it.) Compromise — do it for the pet-lover on in you.

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I suppose it’s inevitable that, as we grow older and our number of daily responsibilities increase despite our efforts otherwise, the random booty call can become more a burden than a pleasant surprise.

When that telltale “ding ding!” from a text message sounds, I instantly attempt a guess at who’s interrupting me:

• mom, who’s just learning how to use her cellphone
• work, with a problem I don’t want to hear about
• the bank, reminding me I have no money
• dad, also just learning how to use his cellphone

But when the beep sounds and I find a message from Dude # 1, #2 or #5 looking to meet up in an hour, horny turns to stress.

How do I find time for this? I have three deadlines, a full laundry hamper, an empty fridge and I haven’t seen my cat in days.

Alas, so it seems the days of the spontaneous sex session are over, as I officially scheduled my last booty call to fall between deadline #3 and a dinner meeting planned two hours later.

I told him to get here by 5. He arrived 5 minutes early. Good boy.

The silver lining behind scheduling said booty call is I also scheduled a deadline for him to get out of my house — just in time for a quick shower and costume change.

I had the sheets changed and my stilettos on by 6:04 p.m., AND I managed to have one of the year’s best orgasms just 20 minutes earlier.

This could work for me.

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I have a question.

During what part of puberty, sex ed or birds-and-bees embarrassment do young men learn that barn yard noises are an optimal way to catch the attention of the opposite sex?

I don’t remember this ever being an issue growing up in New Hampshire (there, the barnyard noises came from actual barnyards), and I’ve learned that our young male neighbors up north have chosen a silent-but-deadly method. Possibly this is an American big-city technique.

When has a kissy-noise (works for cats), hoot (works for owls), whistle (works for cows and canines), or a general holler (works for swine) EVER resulted in a phone number — a real one — and/or a date?

It certainly gets a girl’s attention, but once she realizes where the noise came from and that it was directed at her, the last thing she’s going to do is come running over gushing about how flattered she feels.

I know communicating verbally isn’t the most appealing thing in the world these days (sadly) but if you find somene attractive enough to say something, then do just that. SAY SOMETHING.

Because making random noises is just going to make you look like a goober with Tourette’s, and that’ll get you nowhere.

You’re better off hanging out on the farm, where your outbursts will be welcomed.

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Phone buzzed. Text message.

What up, booty call.

We’ve already discussed the etiquette behind the call of booty, and as I started tidying up my house and making sure Project Runway was set to record, I began what SHOULD have been a simple text convo confirming that yes, I was up for something.

However, things took an unexpected turn for the douchiest worst and he went from go-to guy (for both orgasms and help hanging curtains) to lame-o worth neither my time nor my vagina.

WRONG ANSWER.

When a chick not only confirms she wants to fuck you, but makes it clear she wants to fuck you RIGHT NOW, you drop everything and fuck her. Seems simple, right? Common sense, yes?

Maybe he had a lineup of phone numbers ready to text in case the first one declined his offer and, like shopping for used cars, waited to see who dealt him the best deal — “A BJ and doggie style? I dunno, man…the place across the street threw in anal and agreed to waive the cuddling fee.”

But regardless he and I both know I was the top of the line, and to think I’d waste my time settling on what we’d do before he got to my house certainly failed to keep me wet.

The fun of it is anticipating his arrival, making small talk as the shoes come off, and then going at it with no holds barred. Who wants to plan it all out ahead of time?

Not me.

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A word to all the women out there who fake their way through one-nighters and short-term hook-ups. (And if you’re still doing it after your wedding night, you’d better find something to fill the hole void.)

Please stop pretending to have raging orgasms. You’re not doing anyone a favor and here’s why:

1. You’re never going to get what you want in bed until you let him know what you like and what you don’t.

2. Each time you scream and moan you’re making him think that’s how ALL women cum. He’ll be a sexual dunce for the rest of his bedroom career, or until he meets a chick with enough balls to set things straight.

3. When you coo with delight each time he sorta kinda touches what he thinks is your G-spot, you’re teaching him that THAT is a “hot spot” on a chick. That sucks for every other girl he fucks after you.

4. Sure you skirted the issue for one night. But what happens when you realize you kinda like the guy, but he has no idea how to get you off and it’s your fault? You have to either clue him into your former charade, or convince yourself that the sex isn’t THAT important. You’ve been lying to him, so why not also lie to yourself?

There are very few fake things in the world that are for the greater good — false eyelashes, tofu hot dogs, cubic zirconia — and the only time you’ll find “fake orgasms” on that list is if you’re on a game show and the most obnoxious orgasm noise wins you a Toyota Yaris and complimentary wine tasting at Williams-Sonoma.

I’ve never faked it. That doesn’t mean I’ve never encountered awkwardness or an insecure guy who felt like a failure — but the key isn’t to lie there waiting for him to get tired and give up.

You gotta give a little direction (as he should for you, too) because that’s the only way to know how to do it right. No one, no matter how suave/sexy/skilled, knows exactly how to get you off because everyone is different, and if you start the session with unfair expectations, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.

Use your words.

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Never underestimate the power of white underwear.

SIDENOTE: I use the term “underwear” in lieu of “panties,” a word I loathe. So when you read “underwear” imagine skimpy thongs and sexy boy-shorts, not granny-shorts.

I won’t speak for every young female on the planet, but my underwear drawer does not consist of perfectly matched bra/thong sets or high-end lace culottes for that “special night.”

My top drawer is filled with thongs, boy-shorts and whatever else looked cute and comfortable in the $1.99 basket at Forever 21 or sale rack at the Gap. The beauty of both of those bargain bins is they’re filled with cute plaid/printed/colorful pairs, passed over by those looking for the classics: black, beige and white.

However one must never forget the value of purchasing a few pairs of the white variety:

1. A blue polka-dot thong visible through a white sun dress looks tacky.
2. White underwear against tan skin looks sexy.
3. There’s something about white undies that drive men wild, especially worn under an outfit that screams the opposite of innocence.

My go-to pair (I bought 5) is a bright white G-string with lace edges and a little white bow on the front. Dainty, girly and the perfect mix of pure and slutty.

He’ll know it’s go-time when you lift up your skirt just enough for the bright white glow to peek out. It’s a part of sign language they don’t teach you in school.

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