Sometimes, every now and again, you meet a pretty girl who is quite oblivious to the effect she has on the masses. I myself don't like to imagine I grew up pretty. 100% convinced I was an ugly duckling that bloomed in 1998, and I have much documented evidence to support this thesis. I made up for what I lacked in looks, in wittyness. My silver tongue has one too many times gotten ten paces ahead of me, resulting in many violences. Some wins, some losses. The moment an undercover pretty girl realizes the potential of her weapononry, it's a portal to a pretty girls holy house. Invincibility. The only reason I found out I was pretty was because the minute I got to high school, the boys flocked. This had never happened in Primary School. (It might be due to the demographics, and social circumstances) but still. If nobody pursues you, and nobody compliments the symmetry of your facial features, how can you know you're pretty? Armed with my old "hard times" ammunition, and my new "pretty girl" ammunition, I made a few observations. Resulting in some of my neurosis. I hope this makes you laugh :-)
1. When I like a guy (even when I'm dating him), I like to see his track record. I know I'm pretty, but I'm not THAT pretty, so I like to see who's league I'm competing in. The Ugly girls, The Pretty Girls or The Gorgeous girls? If a guy dates or messes with even one Ugly Girl, a Pretty Girl usually feels that if he's attracted to that, there's no way he'll go anywhere with me. Because an Ugly Girl and a Pretty Girl are so vaaaaastly different! and no Pretty Girl wants to be looped up with Ugly Girls. It would make her feel UnPretty. We can't have that.
2. There's much to learn from Smart Ugly Girls. Smart Ugly Girls, being at a huge disadvantage, are quite good sources for all kinds of information. I hate to say this but this is a confession session, and we're fam right? Smart Ugly Girls will show you the best scents, the best sex tricks, the best recipes, and the best way to sexify your style... It's because you upgrade by hanging around them that they can make really great friends. Unlike Basic Ugly Girls, they will not act thirsty in public, or 'hate' on you, or frump your swagger. Nobody likes an Ugly People, but Smart Ugly Girls are an exception. They are popular and fun. Always adding Spice to the air.
3. It just dawned on me, I can say anything to most people. I bet if I was Ugly and said even half the things I say to people it wouldn't fly even for one day. I'm not rude, even though when I'm HONGRY I'm liable to bring out my "other" personality, it's quite a trip saying ANYTHING to people. AAAANNNNNNNNYYYYYTHING. All my friends will tell you about how I really shouldn't meet trippy, boring, or socially misunderstood characters, because in less than 3 minutes, I'll call them out and completely leave the atmosphere as awkward as seeing a snake with butt cheeks.
4. Pretty Girls are usually aware of what they're doing. Every time A Pretty Girl wants something done, if she's smart... she'll play her cards and alter the table so the outcome always lands in her flavor. I never directly damage a relationship for my benefit (Yes, I've done this a select amount of times), but if it was a movie, and you saw how my character did certain things or said certain things to certain catalysts that would then take the fall for me... then you'd know who the real Puppeteer was. This might sound like too much effort to some people, but to me, it only makes life juicier. Even when it happens to me. Never underestimate what people will do to get what they want.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
HeartBreak Warfare. (Feat. Young Black Socrates) http://thegumbo.wordpress.com/2009/06/17/my-pipe/
Clenched between my teeth, not lit, but doing its job: providing me with a fair amount of comfort. At least as much comfort as one can hope to enjoy in my current predicament. Between groans and winces, I suck on the pipe like a baby with a pacifier. It helps me hold back the tears. My left hand is pressed firm against my abdomen, not quite holding my guts in. Perhaps I exaggerate slightly, but the hand has become wet and sticky, my head is woozy and I won’t dare to look down.
This is no way to go out. After that last shell blast, my hearing is shot, my lungs are full of blood and smoke and all I can do is prop myself up against Sarge’s bulk. His lard-ass is finally proving good for something! I have pain, I have loss, but I also have memories. This pipe for instance.
I remember the third impression. He came in. Dressed Stellar. I could smell the scent of his cologne from the bathroom as I was curling my hair... I saw the future. Tonight would end in one of two ways - If he was uninteresting, awkward, rude, or unintelligent. Or just generally fucks up. Or if he couldn't spell. He would have me for one night, we'd pay tribute to our youth and I could offer my already late, but regular offerings to Aphrodite. OR he could beat all odds and completely blow my mind. Then we would wait and make it anticipated. Maybe fall in love eventually. My eyes dropped from my reflection and into the sink. The pipe was in the sink sprinkled with shimmery bronzer particles fugitives. Glory to the day make-up application makes no mess. The pipe was a gift from a close friend, A. A told me I could keep it on the sole condition I go on this date. I had been bought.
More shells going off bring me back to the present. I feel the ground beneath me rumble, and I’m hit with a shower of dirt; the explosions are getting closer. Too weak to think, and not long to go now. The pain seems to be fading away....
I knew I didn't eat enough. I was drunk. I hate being drunk. I barely watched the movie because of it, but I snuckled in his arms and lay his head on my bosom. The end of the movie and we are in an embrace. His lips are on mine. A skilled kissmith, Finally. He’s holding my waist, so gently… with permission. His hands are not going up my shirt, or sinking to my ass and squeezing (which is never a bad thing), but the energy these things send me, I feel respect channeling between us. I cup his face in my palms. I invite him to my room. I remember feeling engulfed by a warm fire. Our fingers were entwined and he was squeezing me. Gorgeously kissing me, holding me close. To Him. I remember him carrying me and pressing me against the wall and fucking me there, next to the mirror… if walls could talk, they'd be speechless. He knew his power.
There’s a sharp, searing pain under my ribcage, I bite down hard and I feel the stem of the pipe cracking in my mouth. Was it all worth it? He sits somewhere amongst his soldiers, no doubt surrounded with whores, while I watch my blood swallow my hand in a deep crimson. Not long now. I remember when I was Happy. The sweet things The Boy said.
Eclipse. On one side, Brightness. The height of wholesome, and full to my brim. I feel like an orgasm except I’m not emptying myself. Like a fountain, except I’m not gushing. I feel enlightened, and embraced by angels, and the love of God is with me, the love of God surrounds me… surrounded by pleasure. Suspended in ecstasy. In Purity. Baptized.
Half way through. Smoke. In a jazz bar, holding the microphone. Looking into the crowd, they sway to my blues, "No one wins the game of life, No matter how they try... Because true love's never true. Love is just a lie..." I wrote this song last night during rehearsal. As F was telling me how he had alot of things on his mind, and couldn't bear to sacrifice them for me anymore. I had stopped listening after he said that. I had heard this before, countless times. But this time, I could feel him when I slept, I heard his voice in my head. Desolateness. The evidence of my pain, Tears. There was a time I never cried. They call this the grey period. When couples cease the honeymoon period and enter reality. Reality is a cold country. Where you realize you are now the only one in love, and the temperature officially drops below zero. Sometimes, you can see the end from ten thousand miles away. This is not that far though. This is the next door neighbors window. I took another sip from my vodka, and prepared my heart for the worst. The very worst.
I was on the other side, a war hadn't ended. How could I sign a treaty? Fuck a treaty. This was a revolution! The people wanted retribution, and I will give them retribution. F was the enemy. The previous lover in me saw the darkness. He had refused to release me! I was lucky to have survived his web (where the walls caved in repeatedly. Or was that an Illusion? Where had I learned how to plead for my life like that? He had wanted my very soul, but Revenge is a dish best served Cold.) His Swastika! His Life Sucking Regime! His talons dug so deep into my flesh, that even now I'd been licking my wounds. The venom sunk Deeper. He denied me my rights! Denied my freedom! We both can't subdue, but I take no prisoners, and I knew he was weak. My last grenade knocked him down, but I wanted blood. I promised my people There Would Be Blood. I picked up the bazooka and aimed it at his heart. It was the last dance. I shot to kill.
I heard a piercing cry
Was he dead? The gravity of my action felt similar to when I dared myself to drink more, and then when I did, I wished I didn’t. Even though I was glad I did. Regret is a heady emotion. Remorse made me put the bazooka down. I limped away, heart barely beating, looking back, wondering if he was dead. Sorry that he was dead. I am a murderer. A Finish.
I spit out the splintered remains. I’m tired now. The... This war was the end of me. I hadn't fought enough. I need to stand up and fight!! but first - I think maybe I’ll get some sleep...
This is no way to go out. After that last shell blast, my hearing is shot, my lungs are full of blood and smoke and all I can do is prop myself up against Sarge’s bulk. His lard-ass is finally proving good for something! I have pain, I have loss, but I also have memories. This pipe for instance.
I remember the third impression. He came in. Dressed Stellar. I could smell the scent of his cologne from the bathroom as I was curling my hair... I saw the future. Tonight would end in one of two ways - If he was uninteresting, awkward, rude, or unintelligent. Or just generally fucks up. Or if he couldn't spell. He would have me for one night, we'd pay tribute to our youth and I could offer my already late, but regular offerings to Aphrodite. OR he could beat all odds and completely blow my mind. Then we would wait and make it anticipated. Maybe fall in love eventually. My eyes dropped from my reflection and into the sink. The pipe was in the sink sprinkled with shimmery bronzer particles fugitives. Glory to the day make-up application makes no mess. The pipe was a gift from a close friend, A. A told me I could keep it on the sole condition I go on this date. I had been bought.
More shells going off bring me back to the present. I feel the ground beneath me rumble, and I’m hit with a shower of dirt; the explosions are getting closer. Too weak to think, and not long to go now. The pain seems to be fading away....
I knew I didn't eat enough. I was drunk. I hate being drunk. I barely watched the movie because of it, but I snuckled in his arms and lay his head on my bosom. The end of the movie and we are in an embrace. His lips are on mine. A skilled kissmith, Finally. He’s holding my waist, so gently… with permission. His hands are not going up my shirt, or sinking to my ass and squeezing (which is never a bad thing), but the energy these things send me, I feel respect channeling between us. I cup his face in my palms. I invite him to my room. I remember feeling engulfed by a warm fire. Our fingers were entwined and he was squeezing me. Gorgeously kissing me, holding me close. To Him. I remember him carrying me and pressing me against the wall and fucking me there, next to the mirror… if walls could talk, they'd be speechless. He knew his power.
There’s a sharp, searing pain under my ribcage, I bite down hard and I feel the stem of the pipe cracking in my mouth. Was it all worth it? He sits somewhere amongst his soldiers, no doubt surrounded with whores, while I watch my blood swallow my hand in a deep crimson. Not long now. I remember when I was Happy. The sweet things The Boy said.
Eclipse. On one side, Brightness. The height of wholesome, and full to my brim. I feel like an orgasm except I’m not emptying myself. Like a fountain, except I’m not gushing. I feel enlightened, and embraced by angels, and the love of God is with me, the love of God surrounds me… surrounded by pleasure. Suspended in ecstasy. In Purity. Baptized.
Half way through. Smoke. In a jazz bar, holding the microphone. Looking into the crowd, they sway to my blues, "No one wins the game of life, No matter how they try... Because true love's never true. Love is just a lie..." I wrote this song last night during rehearsal. As F was telling me how he had alot of things on his mind, and couldn't bear to sacrifice them for me anymore. I had stopped listening after he said that. I had heard this before, countless times. But this time, I could feel him when I slept, I heard his voice in my head. Desolateness. The evidence of my pain, Tears. There was a time I never cried. They call this the grey period. When couples cease the honeymoon period and enter reality. Reality is a cold country. Where you realize you are now the only one in love, and the temperature officially drops below zero. Sometimes, you can see the end from ten thousand miles away. This is not that far though. This is the next door neighbors window. I took another sip from my vodka, and prepared my heart for the worst. The very worst.
I was on the other side, a war hadn't ended. How could I sign a treaty? Fuck a treaty. This was a revolution! The people wanted retribution, and I will give them retribution. F was the enemy. The previous lover in me saw the darkness. He had refused to release me! I was lucky to have survived his web (where the walls caved in repeatedly. Or was that an Illusion? Where had I learned how to plead for my life like that? He had wanted my very soul, but Revenge is a dish best served Cold.) His Swastika! His Life Sucking Regime! His talons dug so deep into my flesh, that even now I'd been licking my wounds. The venom sunk Deeper. He denied me my rights! Denied my freedom! We both can't subdue, but I take no prisoners, and I knew he was weak. My last grenade knocked him down, but I wanted blood. I promised my people There Would Be Blood. I picked up the bazooka and aimed it at his heart. It was the last dance. I shot to kill.
I heard a piercing cry
Was he dead? The gravity of my action felt similar to when I dared myself to drink more, and then when I did, I wished I didn’t. Even though I was glad I did. Regret is a heady emotion. Remorse made me put the bazooka down. I limped away, heart barely beating, looking back, wondering if he was dead. Sorry that he was dead. I am a murderer. A Finish.
I spit out the splintered remains. I’m tired now. The... This war was the end of me. I hadn't fought enough. I need to stand up and fight!! but first - I think maybe I’ll get some sleep...
Friday, February 5, 2010
If he can't use your comb, don't bring him home.
When I was a little princess, I soooooo wanted to date as many races as I could. I used to ask my mother, "mother dear, what would be the consequences of bringing home a sexy white man?" and she would say, "coloured kids" (for all those that need the cultural education, 'coloured' in Malawi, Africa means MIXED. Not Black.) and so on and so forth... I'm happy she never discouraged me. When I came to The Land of Opportunity, I was amazed at how black men reacted when I first publicly kissed my first white squeeze (He was delicious looking. Don't judge me)... let's just say we broke up.
Over time I've come to only skid the surface of the communities that flat out DENY DENY DENY interracial relationships and the ones that are far kinder. In that skidding of the people who date outside their race I've found that people generally give the most outrageous reasons for crossing over....
"Black guys have Bigger Dicks" = Generally true, but my opinion lacks validity. It's not fool-proof. Let's just say the system has cracks
"Black guys are losers" = Losers rig every system boo. They come in all shapes and sizes... including same sex.
"Black women are too loud and shanaynay-like" = then ask yourself why you keep hitting on shanaynay-like women and stop bitching
What I do find is many black women who refuse to date outside the box. I myself hugely favor black men, but hell... if a pre-qualified guy of a different race hit on me I'd go. I mean, I don't think this is a problem (dating only one type of person) but I do find it problematic when people make a conscious decision to small minded-ness. To each his own I guess. Where you at Justin? Where you at Raizo? Hoolllaaa!!!
Another section of this is the extreme-ists. A phenomenon I've noticed with generally male af-americans. It's when this black male "BLACK MALE" is only hot for other races of women. I personally feel like being ultra-black (super sizing all the things black people favor) is always a compensation for something else. There's a difference between being a freedom fighting chocolate love machine, and wearing dashiki's or feeding off of non-black racial slurs twenty four hours a day or being super sensitive to all black issues. It always makes me think, what are you hiding? White porn? What are you compensating for? I have a feeling that if these characters relaxed a little bit, they'd find that nobody REALLY gives a fuck that they're dating someone who's not black, and if this third party person really is bothered by it, then boo-boo, you need to change your neighborhood and stop feeling guilty for nothing. What people have an issue with is all the contradictions... all the 'black love' that's invested elsewhere.
On another note, I mustn't lie sometimes I meet one of these "openly dating every race but mine's" black people and it hits my esteem a little bit. Then I pick up and think, if they're not attracted to they're own then they must have an issue with themselves that hasn't surfaced but is definitely manifesting. We all know what it is don't we? LOVE YOURSELF :-)
I find it funny when people say, "why not? men do it all the time!" Yea? and so do women. PEOPLE do it all the time. It's not like winning the olympics you know. I see WAY more black women dating other races than I see guys, but I'm sure black guys make up for their lack of serious-other-race relationships by overtaking black women in fucking other races. :-) What do you think?
Over time I've come to only skid the surface of the communities that flat out DENY DENY DENY interracial relationships and the ones that are far kinder. In that skidding of the people who date outside their race I've found that people generally give the most outrageous reasons for crossing over....
"Black guys have Bigger Dicks" = Generally true, but my opinion lacks validity. It's not fool-proof. Let's just say the system has cracks
"Black guys are losers" = Losers rig every system boo. They come in all shapes and sizes... including same sex.
"Black women are too loud and shanaynay-like" = then ask yourself why you keep hitting on shanaynay-like women and stop bitching
What I do find is many black women who refuse to date outside the box. I myself hugely favor black men, but hell... if a pre-qualified guy of a different race hit on me I'd go. I mean, I don't think this is a problem (dating only one type of person) but I do find it problematic when people make a conscious decision to small minded-ness. To each his own I guess. Where you at Justin? Where you at Raizo? Hoolllaaa!!!
Another section of this is the extreme-ists. A phenomenon I've noticed with generally male af-americans. It's when this black male "BLACK MALE" is only hot for other races of women. I personally feel like being ultra-black (super sizing all the things black people favor) is always a compensation for something else. There's a difference between being a freedom fighting chocolate love machine, and wearing dashiki's or feeding off of non-black racial slurs twenty four hours a day or being super sensitive to all black issues. It always makes me think, what are you hiding? White porn? What are you compensating for? I have a feeling that if these characters relaxed a little bit, they'd find that nobody REALLY gives a fuck that they're dating someone who's not black, and if this third party person really is bothered by it, then boo-boo, you need to change your neighborhood and stop feeling guilty for nothing. What people have an issue with is all the contradictions... all the 'black love' that's invested elsewhere.
On another note, I mustn't lie sometimes I meet one of these "openly dating every race but mine's" black people and it hits my esteem a little bit. Then I pick up and think, if they're not attracted to they're own then they must have an issue with themselves that hasn't surfaced but is definitely manifesting. We all know what it is don't we? LOVE YOURSELF :-)
I find it funny when people say, "why not? men do it all the time!" Yea? and so do women. PEOPLE do it all the time. It's not like winning the olympics you know. I see WAY more black women dating other races than I see guys, but I'm sure black guys make up for their lack of serious-other-race relationships by overtaking black women in fucking other races. :-) What do you think?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Milk in my coffee -sneak peek-
This quote is a sneak peek on my next topic. Feel free to message me with anything on your mind you'd like to contribute to the righteous cause.
"You know what I find interesting? Black men are ALWAYS so quick to say that they date other races of women because of the stereotypes of "black" women, and yet do not acknowledge the stereotypes about black men. Black women are loud and have attitude? I would go into the stereotypes of black men, but they would come across as extremely harsh (See prison statistics, categorize how black men approach you versus any other race of men, etc.) But what makes this so interesting... if you look at statistics and media perception today, and simply notice the couples around you, it's not men of color who are dating white women: It's women of color who are who are dating white men."
"You know what I find interesting? Black men are ALWAYS so quick to say that they date other races of women because of the stereotypes of "black" women, and yet do not acknowledge the stereotypes about black men. Black women are loud and have attitude? I would go into the stereotypes of black men, but they would come across as extremely harsh (See prison statistics, categorize how black men approach you versus any other race of men, etc.) But what makes this so interesting... if you look at statistics and media perception today, and simply notice the couples around you, it's not men of color who are dating white women: It's women of color who are who are dating white men."
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Essence of the Greatest Sex - FOR MEN
Disclaimer: This blog is dedicated to making all of us better lovers. Let it be known that everyone is different. Think about it like anything else in the world, Yes, they're all cars, but they're DIFFERENT KINDS of cars, and each one should be treated differently, to suit it's needs.
-First, How to even get to the place to get laid, for men. (I have yet to receive even ONE piece of advice for women... that is still to come! Come on guys!! Gimme ADVICE)
That being said, however, there are some general (obvious, yet often underrated) points to note. Firstly, flattery will get you anywhere. Let me quote myself: "If a man tells a woman she's beautiful, she's usually willing to overlook most of his shortcomings". All women want be told that they are beautiful. Why do you think they do stupid things and ask if you think they are fat? (You all know you have to pause for one sec and then answer "no" and remain calm even if they insist you're lying, right? If you answer too fast, you're definitely lying and if you take too long, you're also lying. And NEVER EVER say "Yes, darling" even if you think honesty is the best policy. Even if they accuse you of lying, NEVER EVER say: "Ok, you're right, you are fat." (RELATIONSHIPS THRIVE ON DECEIT. Remember that.)
Secondly, as you can see from my long-winded entries, girls tend to talk/write a lot. On average, women use way more words than men do in a day. So, while I can't force you to listen to every word, do brush up your acting skills, even if you can't really listen to everything she says. It's so important to pretend you're intellectually interesting. I can't stress it enough.
Thirdly (and this will be my last point), do keep to your word. If you say you'll call, please do. If you say you'll appear at 6pm, appear at 6pm. Don't promise something and then consistently fail to do it. I remember all inconsistent ex-lovers in thoughts lacking warmth. It's better not to say anything at all, than to say something you cannot follow through. We don't do funny business. Not interested in fakers. If you don't have time or don't feel like calling, don't say you will. It feels good to say things to people, because they look happy and you feel good... but disappointment arising from broken plans cancels out whatever good feelings you may have caused initially... and maybe even every single thing you did do right. PREACH! CHUUUCH!
okay now to the good stuff.
ORAL: "Oral is a must. Desperately seeking vagitarious!" Most women find it hard to enjoy a sexual experience to it's nth degree, without oral. It's important that most men know that 'good head' does not focus on the clit. Yes, we know, The Clitoris is THE most sensitive, but uh... distribute your attention please. Especially keep an eye out to how we're responding. If we gently push your head away, you're going too hard or too fast. Eaaasy, "It's a pussy. Not a hamburger."
THE BID'NESS: Make foreplay as long as possible. Mind sex qualifies as foreplay, like I said at the beginning of this post, you have to be mentally there. You could have all the right physical equipment but if you can't tickle a girls mind it will most definitely suck, and not in the way you want.
Spontaneity- sex in the toilet of a public building, sex on an infrequently used road, sex in the car, sex on a bed, sex on the floor/different rooms, sex in someone else's house, sex on someone else's bed, sex in the cinema, sex at a party, sex behind your house at midnight, sex in the parking lot... etc keep it fresh. Plus sneaking around generally excites women, it communicates PASSION, and that you find her irresistible. If a woman feels irresistible, she will eat you alive. Take Samantha from Sex and The City for instance...
Talking Dirty- I'll admit I don't talk much, but I love hearing it. Keeps the both of you engaged. Words excite the mind. Practice your "fuck-me" voice daily.
Stroke- Its not just in and out, it's anticipation. slow, teasing, shallow thrusts before deeper ones. Work the hips! AVOID jackhammer sex. "Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang. You're not a vibrator, you're better than one." Jackhammering can be the finish, but not prolonged during. It just dries us out, loosens and desensitizes. Also, if you're sweating profusely - you're working waaaay too hard.
Make eye contact
Get into it. Don't ask if this is okay or is that hurting? If it hurts we'll tell you. If she's not responding then maybe a full on "how do you like it" conversation is due. The bedroom is the only place where 'the honesty policy' is a recommended one. Spank, bite, touch, use the whole body... be an animal! Change positions! Avoid cramps and make a story that NEEDS to be told to SOMEBODY afterwards...
-First, How to even get to the place to get laid, for men. (I have yet to receive even ONE piece of advice for women... that is still to come! Come on guys!! Gimme ADVICE)
That being said, however, there are some general (obvious, yet often underrated) points to note. Firstly, flattery will get you anywhere. Let me quote myself: "If a man tells a woman she's beautiful, she's usually willing to overlook most of his shortcomings". All women want be told that they are beautiful. Why do you think they do stupid things and ask if you think they are fat? (You all know you have to pause for one sec and then answer "no" and remain calm even if they insist you're lying, right? If you answer too fast, you're definitely lying and if you take too long, you're also lying. And NEVER EVER say "Yes, darling" even if you think honesty is the best policy. Even if they accuse you of lying, NEVER EVER say: "Ok, you're right, you are fat." (RELATIONSHIPS THRIVE ON DECEIT. Remember that.)
Secondly, as you can see from my long-winded entries, girls tend to talk/write a lot. On average, women use way more words than men do in a day. So, while I can't force you to listen to every word, do brush up your acting skills, even if you can't really listen to everything she says. It's so important to pretend you're intellectually interesting. I can't stress it enough.
Thirdly (and this will be my last point), do keep to your word. If you say you'll call, please do. If you say you'll appear at 6pm, appear at 6pm. Don't promise something and then consistently fail to do it. I remember all inconsistent ex-lovers in thoughts lacking warmth. It's better not to say anything at all, than to say something you cannot follow through. We don't do funny business. Not interested in fakers. If you don't have time or don't feel like calling, don't say you will. It feels good to say things to people, because they look happy and you feel good... but disappointment arising from broken plans cancels out whatever good feelings you may have caused initially... and maybe even every single thing you did do right. PREACH! CHUUUCH!
okay now to the good stuff.
ORAL: "Oral is a must. Desperately seeking vagitarious!" Most women find it hard to enjoy a sexual experience to it's nth degree, without oral. It's important that most men know that 'good head' does not focus on the clit. Yes, we know, The Clitoris is THE most sensitive, but uh... distribute your attention please. Especially keep an eye out to how we're responding. If we gently push your head away, you're going too hard or too fast. Eaaasy, "It's a pussy. Not a hamburger."
THE BID'NESS: Make foreplay as long as possible. Mind sex qualifies as foreplay, like I said at the beginning of this post, you have to be mentally there. You could have all the right physical equipment but if you can't tickle a girls mind it will most definitely suck, and not in the way you want.
Spontaneity- sex in the toilet of a public building, sex on an infrequently used road, sex in the car, sex on a bed, sex on the floor/different rooms, sex in someone else's house, sex on someone else's bed, sex in the cinema, sex at a party, sex behind your house at midnight, sex in the parking lot... etc keep it fresh. Plus sneaking around generally excites women, it communicates PASSION, and that you find her irresistible. If a woman feels irresistible, she will eat you alive. Take Samantha from Sex and The City for instance...
Talking Dirty- I'll admit I don't talk much, but I love hearing it. Keeps the both of you engaged. Words excite the mind. Practice your "fuck-me" voice daily.
Stroke- Its not just in and out, it's anticipation. slow, teasing, shallow thrusts before deeper ones. Work the hips! AVOID jackhammer sex. "Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang. You're not a vibrator, you're better than one." Jackhammering can be the finish, but not prolonged during. It just dries us out, loosens and desensitizes. Also, if you're sweating profusely - you're working waaaay too hard.
Make eye contact
Get into it. Don't ask if this is okay or is that hurting? If it hurts we'll tell you. If she's not responding then maybe a full on "how do you like it" conversation is due. The bedroom is the only place where 'the honesty policy' is a recommended one. Spank, bite, touch, use the whole body... be an animal! Change positions! Avoid cramps and make a story that NEEDS to be told to SOMEBODY afterwards...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
