In case you missed it, Netflix’s new series Sex/Life is horny as hell. Billie (played by Sarah Shahi) is a sex goddess. She spent the entire season not-so-humbly bragging about her electric chemistry with ex-boyfriend Brad (played by Adam Demos).
Not only is Brad hot and rich and wears a leather jacket while riding a motorcycle, but he’s also very good in bed—and by a pool…and against the wall…and in an elevator. Did I mention he also has a penis the size of an elephant trunk?
Here’s where it gets interesting though: A very well-fucked Billie doesn’t credit Brad’s sexual prowess to his giant schlong. Instead, she credits it all to his knowledge of the coital alignment technique. It’s this sex move shown in episode 5 that basically makes it impossible for her to stop fantasizing about Brad.
Now, as someone who is very happily married to her own “Brad,” I knew I had to try the famous technique to see if it would give me a Netflix-caliber orgasm. Knowing it provided the “ultimate connection” for Billie and Brad, I was in.
Learning How TF to Do the Coital Alignment Technique
Much like everyone else in the world, I had no idea WTF the coital alignment technique actually was. Billie never really explains how to do it either, she just says this in her lil voice-over:
“There are whole books written on the subject, which either Brad read or never needed to. But when done right, it provides the ultimate connection, both physical and emotional. I felt closer to him than I had to anyone.”
After talking to a ton of experts and watching a lot of porn (you know, for research), I learned the coital alignment technique is like an upgraded version of missionary. “It’s a very slight and specific variation that focuses on clitoral stimulation to achieve higher rates of orgasm,” sex therapist Rachel Smith previously told Cosmopolitan.
Essentially, the receiver lies on their back and the penetrator gets on top of them, sweating and thrusting and grunting as per usual in missionary.
The difference, however, is that instead of the normal in-and-out thrusting, only the tip of the penis is inside the vagina as the base of the penis rubs against the clitoris. And thanks to all the extra clit stimulation, orgasms are supposed to be both easier and better.
Since I’m part of the 82 percent of vagina-havers who can’t get off with penetration alone, I figured this was the perfect test to see if Brad’s technique is bullshit or a game changer.
Trying Out the Coital Alignment Technique
To set the scene, I decided to up the romance of my bedroom. Even though I’m not a fan of having sex on the bed, that’s how Billie and Brad did it, so that’s how I was gonna do it too.
After lighting multiple different scented candles and throwing some leftover faux rose petals from my wedding all over the comforter and floor, I shouted for my husband to meet me in the bedroom. Upon walking into the gorgeously lit, atomic space, he looked at me perched on the bed and said, “Oh, shit, you want some of this dick?”
Not a great start, but after applying a whole bunch of lube and offering a brief explanation of what we were doing, my husband mounted me à la Brad.
Since the whole point of the coital alignment technique is to—you guessed it—align your genitals, my hubs had to scooch up higher than his usual missionary position. As per the experts’ instructions, he laid his weight on me and slowly moved his body on top of mine, offering only slight penetration but a whole lotta friction.
The issue: Because of our height difference (I’m 5’2″ and he’s 5’11”), I felt like I was just looking at his chest hair and not his eyes like I usually would in missionary. When he asked me how it felt, I realized I was so distracted inspecting a mole on his collarbone, I forgot I was supposed to be paying attention to the fact that I was literally having intercourse with my husband.
“When’s the last time you went to the dermatologist?” I asked, reaching out to touch the suspicious spot on his neck. “You have some weird moles.”
Without skipping a beat, he grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head, his weight and movement causing a deep ripple to shiver down my pelvis. Leaning back ever so slightly, he leveled me with an intense stare, his blue eyes making me forget about moles and Netflix shows and the fact that I was trying to have a specific type of sex.
With each thrust, it felt like we melted into each other. My toes dug into his calves as he shifted his weight over my body, and groans kept catching in my throat, carnal and deep.
For five hours (fine, more realistically, five minutes), we had some of the most intense sex of my life. Between the slow, steady thrusts and the way my wrists wriggled in his grasp—it was hot. Not hot enough to make me orgasm, which is why I eventually flipped over, grabbed a vibrator, and got down on my elbows, but still, it was better than normal missionary.
Ultimately, I’m going to toss the coital alignment technique into the “it’s an interesting way to feel connected to your partner, but it didn’t give me the explosive orgasm I thought it would” category.
To be fair, though, it probably takes more practice to *actually* orgasm from this move. But even knowing that, the chances of me opting for it in the future are slim to none.
Sure, the connection was nice, but if I’m in the mood to get off, it’s definitely not going to be my go-to. I don’t know what Billie’s trick is, but I’m calling bullshit on her coital-alignment-induced Netflix orgasms. Sorry!!!
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