herald

Friday 22 September 2017

How you walk can reveal your sex life

"IREAD an article the other day which said that you can tell how many orgasms a woman has had by the way she walks," Patsy announced loudly to all and sundry in the coffee shop last week.

The women at the next table stared at us like we were a threat to society. We stared at a brownie that had been cut evenly four ways. This had nothing to do with diets and everything to do with our fiscal situation. January is the worst of months when it comes to spare cash.

"You are making this up," said Maggie.

To prove that she wasn't, Patsy whipped out her new smart phone which Jose bought her for Christmas and immediately brought up the article online.



Sexology

We were most impressed. We were also most impressed to learn that there is such a thing as a Belgian Sexology Scientist. You don't come across one of those every day.

Anyway, these BSSs believe they have come up with the key to guessing how many orgasms a woman has had just by looking at her gait.

"They must have 'eff all to do in Belgium if they are following women around to see what way they are walking," said Maggie.

"You are only saying that because you walk like a duck with a fur ball," replied Patsy.

She then flexed her fingers and wriggled her neck as if she was getting ready to leap the table.

The BSSs say the research shows that the more 'energetic and free' a woman's walk, the more 'Big O's' she's having in the bedroom.



Energy

"A woman's experience of orgasm may be discerned from a gait that comprises fluidity, energy, sensuality, freedom and the absence of both flaccid and locked muscles," they add.

"What muscles are they talking about?" Maggie asked. Patsy rolled her eyes to heaven before explaining the mechanics of nellie muscles to Maggie.

The explanation put me right off my share of the brownie.

"And even worse news is that they have come to the conclusion that if a woman has a stiff walk then she is getting no action," she added.



pistons

She then excused herself to go the toilet before we left. We watched her closely as she strutted; her boobs pointed as if they were pistons and her large bottom swinging like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

"She has become unbearable since she got a man," sighed Maggie.

As we stood up to go I started to moan about my lack of mobility and how my bones aren't what they used to be. Then I caught myself and quickly changed tack by challenging Patsy to a race to the car.

She won by a mile.

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