We came (not literally), we saw (some things you can’t unsee), we conquered (well one person did). The DC Air Sex World Championships lived up to the promise of all the bizarre air-fucking one evening can handle.
This year I wasn’t just a member of this Air Sex Club for Men/Women…I was also a contestant. I spent most of my day going over my routine, trying out some moves and discarding others. At the advice of the event’s host and producer Chris Trew I even practiced in front of a mirror. That is an awful idea, truly horrible. Never do that to yourself.
Sunday also happened to be Father’s Day and I can’t imagine two things going together better than Dads and Air Sex. After all that’s the kind of sex your dad would prefer you to have. You’re never going to get any sort of Air STD’s or Air Babies out of that. Air Sex is the new abstinence.
The competition was fierce. The contestants were pumped. I dressed as Batman and air shit on my invisible partner’s chest. Sadly I couldn’t taste the thrill of victory but I wouldn’t say I felt the agony of defeces. I was in it for the performance and the joy of watching my fellow man participate in the Emperor’s New Fellatio.
My favorite of the evening was Victory Queef, who dazzled us on stage as an adorably nasty ballerina and blew 5 guys (not the restaurant) to the tune of Orpheus in the Underworld.
It is said: To the victor go the spoils, but I’d say the victor got the soiled in this case. Top prize, advancing to the nationals, was snagged by God Bless This Pussy who ended up standing in at the last minute for the actual GBTP who pussed out. For someone who got on stage with very little prep he certainly got it on…on stage. The win was well-deserved.
If Air Sex is cumming to a town near you I urge you to sign up. Just think of it as practice for the real deal.
Scroll down for the best money shots of the night. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand moans.