I don’t fake orgasms with my current beau because I did it enough in my last relationship to know it’s a really bad idea (“Are you there yet? Well are you almost there yet? Hmmmm, what if I slap your pussy – you sounded like you loooooooved that last time!”) But tonight when my man and I were doing the nasty I realized orgasms aren’t the only thing a girl can fake.

If you have thought one or more of the following things to yourself while participating in under the sheets activities, I diagnose that you too have fallen victim to the fierce FAKE-IT-FLU:

• “Maybe if I pretend I’m enjoying this it will motivate him to do a better job.”

• “His penis kind of tastes like expired yogurt but if I tell him that I’ll probably ruin the mood.”

• “The boy has been down there for, like, seven entire minutes. I have to give him SOMETHING to go on right?”

• “Fuck, fuck, fuck – he’s doing those damn tickley neck kisses again! Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh…”

However tonight I’m excited to share my sexual out-of-body experience that rocketed me right into recovery from the dreaded FLU. My dude had been oral adventuring in my downtown for a good fifteen minutes and still hadn’t hit any sweet spots. Regardless of all his slobber I still felt as dry as a slice of melba toast. But did I speak up to say he was getting me about as aroused as watching reruns of Star Trek on TV? No I certainly did not. In truth I was making all the politically correct “ooh baby” sounds to make him feel like a manly man.

Just before my vagina went totally numb I felt like I was being lifted out of my body to observe myself down below. Here I was, in an opportunity for great sex with a man I loved, and I was wasting it because I was too shy to speak up and be honest with him. This was not faking it with a boss to try and get a promotion or faking it with parents to try and get their approval (another column in itself), this was SEX in its heated, raw, sweaty glory and I was killing it.

I returned to my body to find him still munching away happily. I took a deep breath.

“Honey – this isn’t working for me.”

Awkward pause. But he fields it like a champ.

“Uh, ok… Not working for you… Really? Um, ok… Well what do YOU want?”

Uncomfortable pause. I had gotten this far, now what DID I want?

“I want you to fuck me in front of the mirror while you talk dirty to me and grab my ass… HARD.”

Anticipating pause. Both of us unleashing wide grins that spread into full-out toothy smiles.

And then there was a monster-sized orgasm that rocked our bedroom (and my world) and the sex gods said it was good.

So now that I’m in recovery from the FAKE-IT-FLU I’ve learned some valuable lessons. First and foremost, sex should never be a chore. Sex should be a chance to explore and excite the pleasure palaces’ within, to try new things, express who you are and what you want and guide him in the right direction to give you bat-fucking-crazy orgasms.