Monday, June 29, 2009

My readers remember all

Posted while on the road, mobile-blog FTW.

I love that my readers are cogent enough to send me emails reminding me that I should call the waitress I met not that long ago. Thanks to those of you who emailed me.

On my way to meet my gay friend Miguel and his sister Jandra (who, by the way, is the TENTH Jandra I've ever met), I decided to give her a jingle from the car.

I pull up her listing in my phone, listed as "Maggie, Server, Call!" and let it ring a few times. I don't leave voice mails if I am calling someone to ask them out. I figure I'll let it get to 4 and then just hang up when the call is answered.

"Sane." Whoa, how'd you know it was me? "I learned we have a common friend. And she said you'd call on day 7." FUCK. "Are you nervous that she'll tell me something you don't want me to hear about?" No, you should actually listen to every word she has to say about me.

"What?" I mean it. "Aren't you supposed to say DON'T listen to her?" If I did, you'd pay more attention to her. "I understand your logic. But now that I know you're playing mind games, doesn't it mean I will still?" No, that's why they're mind games.

She laughs, loudly. Then the phone is muffled while she talks to someone else in the room. "Sorry, roommate. OK, I was expecting you to call. Now you're going to ask me out, right?" I'm not sure I even have to answer that, you know what I'll say next. "Two choice for this week?" Right. I laugh. Pick one. "I already did. Tomorrow night, or is that too early?" I laugh again. This is not good. Tuesday is fine.

"Let's see, did you pick Persian and Italian food options?" Close, Indian and Thai. "Oh, not too exciting, are we?" We've yet to see. 8pm? "I can do that. If you still want to go out. Now that I know everything." No one knows everything, and the more people know, the more they actually don't know. "She said you were mysterious." Not mysterious, I'm an open book. It's the closed book who seem not so interesting. "Ok, then it's a date." Is it? Or is it just two friends gossiping about a mutual third?

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sane." Mmmhmmm. If only I knew where to pick you up. "Shit! I live in Lakeview." Figured as much. "What does THAT mean?" I gotta go. I hang up.

So there you have it, fine readers. The Man that they call Sane has a date, of sorts.

Of course, we know it can go nowhere. She knows someone I've met recently, and the word is out. That means she's going to try to be competitive with our mutual friend and see where she can get me. That actually reduces my desire to jump on her and pound her until she melts through the mattress. Sad, too. But it's a date, and I like dates, and I'd like to go on more dates, so I'm going to follow through.

Who wants to bet that we DON'T hit it off, and that neither of us jumps the other one? I bet you a night of cooking, handmade ice cream and casual sex that we don't.

Read the rest...

I own a part of you, just for my own pleasure

I don't put you in gorgeous outfits because I care how you feel about them.

I don't cover you in MY favorite perfume in hopes that you'll like your scent.

The jewelry you wear that I bought is dressing you for my sake, for my happiness.

When I slip my cock inside you, it's for my pleasure.

When I leave the remainder of my come on your neck, it's for me to know I've marked you as mine.

Now don't think that I want to own you, because I don't. Every other guy wants to be possessive in who you are, in everything you do, in full control of your life. I'm not talking about that.

I'm talking about owning you in tiny pieces, little segments that remind you that a small percentage of your body, your mind, your heart and your pussy are mine, when I want it. On all the other occasions, they're all yours to do with as you please.

You can't tell me what you want, because I don't care. It's not my concern, you're a bright, aggressive, responsible lady and you can get it all yourself. When you do ask me for something, you should know, right now and always, that I will only give it to you if I want you to have it. You will have to be weak and show that weakness in accepting that I am digging deeper into you, taking a piece of you as a trinket, as a trophy, as a conquest.

Don't think for once I am trying to stroke your ego. The limited time we have together is a prize for me, a secret trophy that belongs in my secret room, to display to me alone.

When you wear that dress I bought you, with those shoes, those panties, the necklace and the bracelet, remember the small piece I've taken from you to put on that secret shelf. Maybe you'll be on a date with another man, or a boy. Maybe he'll have you in ways you want from him. I won't be jealous, because I will still come and take that piece when I want to.

You can fight it all you want, think that I am giving you something for your sake, but I never will. When you plunge your fingers into your pussy and think of me, that is mine, too. I am fully aware of it, and you should be, too. I want you to remember that when I come, it's for my pleasure, and when you come, it's still for my pleasure.

When I caress your back, your thighs, your hips, your shoulders, I am leaving my mark of my conquest. The smile on my face is an ego stroke for myself. The smile on your face only adds to it. It doesn't matter that you want it, too. It doesn't matter that you're hungry for me, as I will be the one to eat and be satiated fully. Do you want to be satiated, too? That will only happen when you've given that part of you completely to me.

I know you're afraid. It's OK. When other men want to own you completely, you'll revel in the knowledge of the one man, this man, who owns only a tiny part of you. You'll detest the others because they want to envelope you in themselves, but you'll ache wondering why I won't. Why I don't.

When I leave your bedroom in the morning, you'll be aching in both body and soul, your spirit crushed because the thread of ownership is so small and so light, but you can feel its pull as I close the door behind me. Another man may try to force all of you over to him, but you won't feel that pull at all. Instead, you'll feel a pressure to run away. Pulling too hard fails you, whereas my small prompts of non-aggression will make you want to fall into me.

When I'm sitting in my desk chair, an important article displayed on my desktop PC, and you're sitting on my lap, me still inside of you, my focus will be on the screen, not on your wetness rolling down to my thighs. You'll get frustrated, but not like the other guys who watch their sports on TV and ignore you. My cock will be inside of you, taking what it wants when it wants, and you'll never know what is more important: your pussy on my cock, or my hands on the keyboard in front of both of us.

I want you to know this. I want you to hate it and love it at the same time. I want the battle in side of you to remember it when other men wear their hearts on their sleeves, and I wear your heart on my sleeve.

I would normally say you shouldn't worry about it, but you will. You'll think about it constantly. When you peak in your closet, you'll remember it. It will complete you because I have taken a tiny part of you that needed to be taken. Will I give it back? Only when I have nothing left to do to you, to say to you.

That's why you'll want to give me more. But will I allow it? Will I accept it as a gift given by a woman, or will I ignore it as a tantrum thrown by a little girl?

Read the rest...

Writer's Unblock: deciding what to post

Many of my writer friends, both online and offline, have witnessed a stage of writer's block that has caused them to lose the desire to move forward with their work or hobby. I'm the opposite. I maintain dozens of blogs, 2 print newsletters, and have even written 2 full-length novels in the past 2 years. I love to write, and I can't stop writing once I start.

This is a curse, I'd say. I have so many unpublished posts that it's hard for me to figure out what to post and how often. I hate to produce TOO MUCH for readers to go through, but I also don't like to have days of bland and boring post topics. Today I decided I'll work on what I want to post and stick to it.

For those who experience or are experiencing writer's block, I find it really advantageous to keep a mini-journal of things I do every day: "Saw Tom. Ate salmon. Cooked a pie. Wanted to bang Nina." Etc, etc. It works to help keep my active writer's mind motivated to write deeper about any of the things I've done that may flow into a longer term topic.

I've journaled, privately, for 20+ years. I still have all those journal entries (typed into plain text since day one) and have decided I'm going to write about 4 different main topics: businesses/jobs I've had, women I've loved and lusted over, friends who mattered, and food I've cooked. They're all interesting stories, and I have enough of my past set into written stone that I can pull information from a variety of journals to create interesting stories that some of you will love.

That'll take time, but thankfully I type 150+ wpm, so it won't be too long. Plus the fact that I am horny beyond even spring's break gives me good ammunition to re-read some of my own conquests and failures in the bedroom, stories which are always comical and fun and sexy.

Off to read my own autobiography now.

Read the rest...

Whoa, summer horniness

The last few weeks I haven't been excessively horny. Well, I've had my share of fantasies and jerk-off time over one particular long distance lady, but that doesn't count because she is there and I am here. So we can scratch that off because of distance for the moment.

Today, I woke up with HORRIFIC morning wood. I'm not talking about the kind of morning wood that you just poke at until it goes away (one way or another), I'm taking about the kind of boner that you want to parade out in front of the world.

I woke up at 6am, went to make coffee, and couldn't read the coffee maker because Little Fire Hydrant decided to bang into the cabinet in front of me. Yes, folks, my kitchen cabinet got laid. Ouch, by the way.

It banged into the door jam when I turned around coming out of my bedroom. I almost took out my cat who decided to jump up on the couch at 7:30. The shower towel had a happy home to hang on.

W.T.F. I'm not a young guy, aren't these problem supposed to go away? I feel like a 14 year old with the little fucker just popping up and staying there. And it's a bit frustrating because I have (A) no local lovers, (B) no desire to go out on dates to find one and (C) no patience for masturbation lately.

So I let him salute the cabinet, the door, the cat and the bath towel for as long as he would stand at attention, then I just had to take care of business. Half hour down the drain (or in the Kleenex, however you prefer to look at it. Does anyone want to look at it?).

It's Monday. I have one trip to the east coast planned this week, and at month's end I will find myself south of Florida in one of the many gorgeous latino countries for a week. I plan on having a LOT of sex on one of these trips, but I won't mention which one.

Still, summer horniness is something I admire. Air conditioning but still sweating, the dark kiss of the sun on each other's skin, body spooge all over the place, screaming and yelling and moaning in the bedroom after an awesome night out at dinner or a show or whatever. It's something I admire, I appreciate, and god damn it I could use more of that.

But still, I find myself SO FUCKING BORED lately with the ladies. Not all ladies, and I've met a few in recent months who are 100% fuckable and dateable but either are not interested in the Sane or are too fucked up in the heart to make a run for it. It's Chicago, I know it is. My visits to practically every other city in the States and in the world has led me to realize the ocean is much bigger than previous thought, and there are FAR many more fishies in it. But still, I'm Chicago. It's not my name, it is who I am. I love my town, myself, and need to get out more to meet someone worth my time who also wants her mouth on the Sane's suntanned body.

So I urge everyone to beat me with a big stick if they hear that I am staying home. Seriously, there is no reason for me to be reading a book and watching movies on Saturday, just because I've become so misanthropic. It's a curse, because that misanthropy isn't worldwide focused, it's just on Chicago.

Maybe I should start a Chicago 30SB group. At the very least, we can bang, right?

Read the rest...

Friday, June 26, 2009

The end is the means

Auto-posted at 2:00pm as I am on a flight from Europe back to Chicago.

Kari and I spent that night together, but we didn't fuck. Oral sex was good to both, really good if you consider how few women can make me come from a blowjob. I slept in her bed but woke up much earlier than her. It's a blessing and a curse for me: 3 hours of sleep and I'm revved to start my day.

It sucks when it's the first night over at a dame's place, though. I don't want to be "that guy" who gives a gal a good time and then shovels off before she awakens. Note that even with booty calls and friends-with-benefits, I'm still a gentleman out of the bedroom. I woke up at sunrise feeling a lot of pain in my bruised side. I turned over and looked to see Kari still sleeping, her blanket pulled up to her belly, her perfect tits and gorgeous long neck showing minor signs of my come from not many hours ago.

She's pretty, but not stunning, but she sleeps smiling, and that's a pleasure to wake up to. I get up and her hardwood floors creak, so I use my silent-walk technique to get myself to the kitchen to scrounge up some food. Her fridge isn't too packed and neither is her freezer, so I ring up my assistant who happens to be in the city and ask her to pick up some eggs, cheese, a tomato, an onion and a package of mushrooms. 45 minutes later and my assistant is meeting me out front on this cold spring day.

I find her frying pan (which needs a mean cleaning) and some oil (which I am hoping isn't rancid) and whip up an omelette (4 egg, thankyouverymuch). I sit in her living room window, grab the notepad and pencil that my assistant brought me, and take the notes that cover the journal leading to now.

Where am I going with this? Is she going to be my first one night stand, or is she looking for a lover for those lonely summer nights? Will she booty call me (I haven't done the booty call thing in 2 years) or will be be friends with benefits, or just friends who never approach the bedroom again?

It doesn't really matter, but I find myself enamored with her body. She has the shoulders and neck and back and arms that I love on a woman; her belly is almost perfect. She's confident and studious, works a regular job for regular pay, and isn't too spend-thrifty. She won't be a sugar-baby because she doesn't care for material things like I do.

At about 10am, I hear her get up. Walls shake from the floor that creaks, so I stand up and walk to the kitchen to get the frying pan going again. A little oil (ok, a lot of oil), crack the first egg and there she is: wearing new panties but also wearing my dress shirt from the night before. Women, I know it's cliché but wearing a man's shirt is hotter than hell. It's an ego stroke to end all ego strokes (other than bragging to your friends about us).

She has a smile on her face, asks me what I'm doing. I'm making you breakfast. "That makes it two for two then." Huh? "Most guys don't make me come the first time we fool around, and no one makes me breakfast." I guess you'd hungry, right? "Sure."

I slice up some more tomato and onions, drizzle oil on the mushrooms, and toss up a perfect omelette a few feet in the air as I flip it to completion. A little cheese (read: lot) and flip it onto her plate.

My shirt is unbuttoned on her body, and it's making Little Fire Hydrant perk up a little. I'm wearing my jeans, but I don't want to be uncomfortable so I start thinking about what I should do today. I'm on a break from a hellacious winter work schedule, with no major travel plans ahead. Money is good, plans with family are set, most of my friends are busy with family and work, so I have as much time as she has for me to stick around.

"So," she said, chomping down her omelette gracefully. So? "I think we should fuck." Ok, I agree with that. "No, I mean after I brush my teeth." Uh oh, LFH bounces up a bit more. "Do you have condoms?" Of course I do. "Let me finish this and you can meet me in the bedroom." I didn't say I agree to this idea. "You will." She removes my dress shirt and lets it fall to the floor. She wins.

She gets up, her tits even better than I had expected, and strolls to the bathroom to scrub that morning breath from her mouth. I already took care of brushing my teeth (my overnight medicine bag has it all). I watch her stroll out of the bathroom and remove her panties in the hallway as she disappears into her bedroom. I grab my medicine bag, double-check to make sure my favorite condom is at the ready, and head on it.

She under the covers, which is a bit of a thrill killer. But she's smiling, which balances it well. A sexy woman with a sexy smile basically tell me to get inside of her is probably the hottest thing a woman can do, short of wearing glasses. I get into bed, crawl under the covers, and she immediately rolls over to her side to clench her body against mine, her head on my chest.

"I said it last night, I don't want a boyfriend." I know, that's a good thing. "Let me say that I haven't had a lot of guys I've fucked, but they all get emotionally attached and annoy me quickly." I won't. Who's to say you won't be the one to get all weak-kneed for me? "Maybe I will."

She turns her face up and I bend my chin down and we try to kiss. It didn't work as well as it does in the movie, but I like kissing her. I like knowing this beautiful and sexy lady wants my dick in her.

We kiss for quite awhile, her hand stroking my cock readily without my prompting. The gal can kiss, that's for sure. And her moans are ambrosia to this lover's ears and body. My hands dance playfully on her body and I find her spots are her neck, her back just under her shoulder-blades, her forearms and her legs just below her hips.

"I want your dick in my mouth again," she says. I nod my head no, letting her know non-verbally that I want to save it for her pussy. I flip onto my back and pull her on top of me, my cock throbbing between my belly and hers. She pulls her hair out of my face and smiles at me, causing me to smile back. Then I laugh, which makes her laugh, too. Laughter in bed really is funny. And sexy.

We kiss some more, my hands in her hair and her hands in my hair, then she pulls back again. "I should let you know, I don't ever come from penetration." Never? "Never." Do you get close? "Sometimes." What breaks it? "I don't know." Willing to work on it, seriously work on it? "I want to, but seriously sounds scary." Give me some time and we'll find a way to do it.

With that, she crawls her face down my chest to my belly, my thighs, and envelopes my cock in her mouth. I moan, and she strokes my cock with her two hands below the head while popping the head in and out of her mouth, keeping her tongue on the parts that matter. The gal is really good at this. She'd get a mouthful every day if it was up to me.

After a good ten minutes of fantastic sloppy head, I pull her face off of me. She resists a bit, really liking my cock hitting the back of her throat. A few times she almost had her face buried in my pubes, but she gagged enough that she had to withdraw. I know she's one who can overcome that gag reflex, which means some furious and aggressive throat-fucking to come. Lucky me.

I pull her up to me and roll her over, pushing her shoulders down. I want to get on her back so badly, but she pushes my head to one nipple and screams at me to lick it. I do, but I still tease enough that she pulls my cheeks down to it against my will. The more I fight, the more she moans. My hands are on her forearms and her back, eliciting moan after moan.

"I think you need to fuck me now." I think I need to lick your pussy and clit for a half hour. "No, I need your cock inside me."

While she is straddling me, my cock laying on top of her shaven pubes, I reach over and grab my medicine bag. As I reach for a condom, the bag topples over to the floor, spilling the entire contents across the hardwood. Shit. She laughs, as do I.

I get between her legs, on my knees, and stroke my cock a little bit more to regain the hardness I like for penetration. It's not as hard as it can be, but that's LFH for you. I'm not nervous, and she spreads her pussy and tickles her clit herself while I open the condom, squeeze the tip, and unroll it over my cock.

Her eyes are on me, not on my dick. I push her hand away from her pussy and rub my cock her across her lips and lightly on her clit, which is fully engorged and ready for a good licking. She smiles as I tease her, battling my tease with her own goading glances. I put my cock between her pussy lips, the head just barely penetrating them and look at her. She nods. As I push in slowly, I realize she is completely soaked, but her pussy lips are full enough to prevent major spillage. Her smile retreats and her eyes open nearly to the point of bugging out.

"Fuck, that's thicker than it looks" she says as I slip the cock head in finally. "Ohhhh, fuck that's good." Yes, tell me that. "I love it, put more in." I need to hear that you really want it. "Ohhh I really want it" she says as I slide another inch inside.

"Fuck, put it all in." I refuse, putting only the first three inches inside of her, then pulling out to make sure she's wet enough. "No, put it back in" she implores as I pull out almost entirely.

She grabs my hips and pulls me, and I give her a little power as I slide back in, only 3 inches. Her pussy is wet and fairly tight, paying the rent expected from my cock landlord. "God damn, put it all the way in." I nod my head no, smiling nefariously as her eyes pop out again when I give it a little more penetration than before. "Yes, like that. Please fuck me." Why? "I need it, so bad."

I push in further, spreading her legs a bit more on the bed and laying my own body on top of hers. "Oh God please more." I pull out again, grabbing her biceps in my hands as I kiss her. Her eyes are still opened as I push in another inch, leaving the final inch outside.

"Ohhhh my" she moans. I love her verbal openness. My cock is now almost entirely inside of her, but her moans cause it to get thicker than usual. "Oh fuck, I can feel you stretching me." I look at her eyes, which are open but dazed.

I pull my cock out almost entirely, leaving just the head in. I pull one hand down from her shoulder, lick my thumb, and put my hand flat on her belly with my thumb on her clit. "Oh God, yes. Please fuck me now." I abide by her request and push my cock in, feeling it thicken at the looks she's giving me, at the "O" shape of her mouth that wants to speak or moan but can't.

I still don't give it all to her. I leave the last inch out, but she doesn't know it. I pick up the pace, leaving my thumb barely touching her clit, almost no pressured contact, just warmth and touch. "God I needed this, I needed your dick so bad." I'm fucking her faster now, still refusing to push entirely in.

"Yes, fuck me, Sane." Do you like my cock? "Ohh, I love it." You know it's in your pussy, right? "Oh God yes, it's amazing." We kiss, me temporarily withdrawing my hand from her clit as I embrace her face. We kiss, and I slowly penetrate and withdraw, forcing myself to withhold from entering her fully.

As we kiss, I nuzzle my cheek to her cheek, kissing her cheek, forcing her to kiss mine. I let her kiss my chin, my nose, my mouth as I continue to pummel her slowly and softly.

As I return my finger to her clit, I realize just how wet she is. She's loving every minute of this. I give it a little tickle, just a touch of pressure. Her eyes close as I push into her, stretching her, while giving her clit just enough attention to make her feel filled and attended to.

She's biting her lip, moving her head to one side as I continue my rhythm, trying to find the rhythm that she needs. I continue to thumb her clit, and suddenly her pelvic bone is pushing against me in rhythm to my cock falling into her. That's just the sign I need. Instead of pressing harder on her clit with my thumb, I push down on her pubic bone, right under her pubic hair. I massage her clit still gently with my thumb, but the pressure on her pubic bone causes her eyes to open, she screams "My God, don't stop" and then closes her eyes again.

As I push onto her pubic bone, I thrust my cock into her, still refraining from giving her the last inch. She starts making moaning noises, and her hips are thrusting back at me, knowing subconsciously themselves that there is more there to conquer. I pull out entirely and slide back in, pushing down on her pubic bone with each thrust, removing pressure a little with each withdrawal.

"Fuck, don't stop, please don't stop." I say nothing and continue the rhythm, the pressure on and off, the penetration and withdrawal, increasing the speed at which my thumb is circling her clit, but not increasing the pressure yet.

Finally she gets there "Oh fuck, I'm coming, please, please." I laugh a little inside, wondering what she's begging for. Her clit pushes up at my, and only then do I push back with my thumb. I also push down on her pubic bone as hard as I can, finally pushing my cock all the way into her, completely. "Ohhh fuck yes, fuck fuck fuck, yes, God yes." I stop fucking her, at least I don't withdraw anymore. Instead, I push my cock as deep as possible, holding her hip with one hand, keeping my cock as far in as possible.

My other hand is pushing her pubic bone down, my thumb is pushing and releasing against her clit in the exact rhythm I was fucking her before. I keep my cock pressed inside of her, and feel her body quake. Her chin is aimed at the ceiling, her face tipped backwards, her tits are up as her back arches. I keep my cock pushed in, but I withdraw the pressure on her clit. I still keep my hand pressed against her pubic bone, as her hips push back. My cock is soaked.

Finally she comes down. "Oh God no, I'm I'm" I look up and her eyes are filled with tears. No sad tears or happy tears, just emotional release. "I'm sorry" she says as she closes her eyes, pushing tears down both sides of her temples. I laugh a little, release my hand from her hips and clit, grasp her shoulders and put my chest on hers as I nuzzle into her neck.

"Oh God I didn't think THAT would happen." I chuckle again, saying nothing.

She takes 15 minutes to come down entirely. My cock is still hard, still inside her. Finally, she lets out a final strong breath. "Ok, wow. Just. Wow." I smile as she sees me watching her face.

"Shit, did you come?" I nod my head no. "Oh crap. I don't think I can handle anymore fucking." I smile and nod and begin to pull out of her. "NO. Don't pull out, just don't push in yet. I think I'm sore." Hah!

"Holy crap, what the hell were you doing to me?" Nothing, just investigating your body. "No, I mean that crazy shit with your hand on my pubes." Oh, just seeing what brings you off. "Fuck yeah, you can do that shit always. I love it."

We kiss again, and I fight hard not to fuck her. At this point, I could actually pound the hell out of her for 2 hours, she was that sexy and gorgeous when she came on my cock. But I can tell she's sore, I was letting her pussy adjust to my cock by not giving her all of it, and then I gave her the last inch pushing past her adjustment/comfort phase. It's a cheating trick, for sure.

"I want you to come." I'm actually OK. "No, it's not fair." How many times has a guy fucked you, come, and left you without anything? "Always. Well, often." So what's wrong if we consider the job done here this morning, and I'll get a little extra attention next time? "It's not fair to you." I just got to fuck you, I got to see your first good orgasm from a cock, I had my cock in your mouth for 10 minutes, what's the problem? "You need to come." How about I take a rain check? "Did you lose respect for me?" I laugh LOUDLY. Fuck no! I'm just happy with what we just had.

"Are you sure?" Yes, I'm sure! "I can suck you off again." I know you can, but I'm honestly OK.

I withdraw. My cock is still hard and she doesn't believe me. I'm honest when I say that orgasm is not the end result. Fucking isn't the end result. The end isn't justified by the means, the means are what matter. We had sex, really good sex. Not for very long, not very hard and hot and heavy, just a good fucking. She needed it, and I wanted to be the one to give it to her.

Sure, I'm horny, but that doesn't mean I have to satiate my desires right now. For me, I was just happy to please her. If it happens again, and I know it will, she'll get her chance to give me something and not get anything in return. Until then, we'll be pals. Good pals, I hope, but pals first. The next fucking can wait for another day.

Read the rest...

A Man's Intimate Needs

Auto-posted at 1:00pm because I am on a return flight to Chicago today from Europe.

I had a bizarre discussion with a blogger recently regarding men in bed. She complained about how bad her recent lovers were, and wondered what she was doing wrong.

I've heard this before, and most of the time the answer is the same: you're a bad lover. No, no, not he's a bad lover, YOU'RE a bad lover.

I always laugh inside a little when I hear the trite complaints of a typical woman: "He needs to give me more attention" or "He moves too quickly" or the like. Guess what, women: you're the problem, not him.

A woman who is frigid in bed is going to have a guy who moves too fast. Why? Because he's the only one moving. It's plain as day, I've been with women like you. I get bored. Usually I'd rather go to sleep than even THINK of having sex.

If a guy is moving too fast, check yourself. Are you teasing him back? If he's going for the nipple, how about flipping him over and giving him a back rub, or roll him onto his back, straddle him, grab his face and kiss him for awhile? No, you're not "teaching him" anything new, you're just putting in as much work as he does.

Then there are the guys who orgasm too fast. Yes, I know there are actually men who have this problem for real, but in most situations that I've talked to, the guy is just trying to get there because the woman is showing no sign of pleasure. How about letting out a moan or even a little dirty talk? Be vocal, be physical, show him that you're having fun. When I see that a woman is actually having a good time when I'm pounding away, I last even longer.

I generally don't have a problem with stamina, but if the woman acts bored, then I'm bored, too. Let's just get it over with and skip sex in the future. What's with being all quiet and ladylike in bed? WE'RE FUCKING, so fuck me back.

Then you have the guy who is just BAD at sex: he pounds too hard on the clit, his legs shimmy like a jackrabbit when he's thrusting, etc. This is an easy solution, too: BE VOCAL. Asking him to slow down or go lighter actually works. You're not teaching him something he needs to know, you're letting him know that your body is different than past lovers.

I've been with lovers who can't orgasm unless I'm biting a nipple practically to the point of blood. I've been with lovers who can't have clitoral stimulation until 30 seconds before they're ready to pop. Each woman is different, and it is not the guy's job to figure out how they're different. If a woman wants good sex, she better be ready to explain her physical needs and issues as they arise.

It won't spoil the fun, it makes it better.

So there you have it: a man has intimate needs, too, but we're more vocal and aggressive about moving in the direction of orgasm. Women who lay there, silent, and don't vocalize what they're liking and not liking are frigid boring lovers. I sure as hell don't want her. Most guys won't either, and they'll hit the road as soon as the next lovely lady comes around who seems a bit more passionate about life.

Just because you're hot, have nice boobs, and think your pussy is heaven-sent doesn't mean that you're good in bed. From my experiences in my 20+ years of dating, I would say that half the women I've been with have been TERRIBLE lovers at first and needed their asses slapper (regularly) to get them into shape.

Open your mouth for more than our cocks and you might be surprised at how much better that guy you think is boring Mr. 5 Minutes becomes.

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Thursday, June 25, 2009

Getting in your head

My final autopost as my air carrier shuttles me to destination Europe for a 14 hour layover before I head home tomorrow.

Last night I had a lovely dinner with an anonymous blogger. We chatted a bit about ex-love-interests: fuck buddies, significant others, casual flings.

Her run down rankings brought intrigue to my mind. Her fuck buddies were gorgeous, but not really mentally and emotionally challenging. Her most significant others were still prettyboys, but something about them got in her head, more than sexual attraction.

She mentioned that some guys got really close to breaking through her skullgates, but fell short before the relationship ended. Some recent love/sex interests didn't have much of a chance for breaking through the barricade, but those relationships fell apart young.

I know it's not just a woman thing, so I'm asking guys AND gals alike: what causes a love interest to get stuck in your head? How fast does it happen? Do you show signs of being mindraped to them? Do you ever fight it off to try to nip it in the bud, and how?

If you're a regular reader who lurks, jump in with a comment. I allow anonymous comments, so use that feature if you like.

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Fiends with Benefits, Part III

Auto-posted at 1pm while I am on a flight somewhere over the Atlantic. More auto-posts coming, and I'll be returning tomorrow evening.

This is the final part of a 3-part series. You can read the first part here.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and we walked in. It's a nice place with common hardwood floors, off-white walls, and a touch of color from the curtains and furniture that brings her living room together. She doesn't have a lot of stuff, which is very attractive.

I ask if she lives alone. "I do, now. I had a roommate but she had a revolving door of shady guys she'd bring home. When the last guy stole some things from me, I told her she needed to find a new place." How do you afford it? "My parents help, since I'm still in school." I'm glad she's honest about her parents helping. I think it's a good thing for parents to help a student. "Me too," she laughs.

I sit on her big green couch and she runs to the bedroom. I hear the tap-tap-tap of an animal running into the room. It's a little tiny hound of some kind, medium brown with gorgeous eyes. "This is Cheval, he's 4." Cheval? Like from doucheval? "That's right!" It means two horses in French. "Haha, I know." He runs up to me and stares at me, not growling or barking. Just staring.

I pat my hand on the couch and his tail turns into a wag-fest. "Be careful, he doesn't like guys." He'll like me. All dogs love me. He wags his tail and then his little frame gets frustrated as it runs back and forth, trying to figure out how to get onto the couch. "He's not good at jumping." I reach down to grab him and his tail goes CRAZY. "Careful, he's a nipper." I call his name and grab him under his chest. No nipping, he hops right into my lap as I lift him up.

"Wow. Chevy never likes guys so quickly." I give him the alpha male stare and talk to him in my deepest basso voice. His tail his wagging and his face is between his front paws. Cute. "You must love dogs." Actually, I do, but I don't tend to have many in my life. Dogs are great pets, but all pets can get in the way of excitement and travel. "That's true. My folks watch him often if I have a busy schedule at school." That's good to know.

It's also exciting to me. I tend to not date women with dogs only because it has fucked up chances of last minute travel. It's not a hard and fast rule, but I've followed it fairly well. Knowing her folks are around to watch this little mutt increases her chances of something with me, whatever that might be.

She comes back with a beer for her and a glass of vodka on the rocks for me. "My ex-roommate left a bottle in the freezer, I hope it's not spoiled." I laugh, vodka doesn't spoil. "Oh, I guess that makes sense." We clink glasses and she sits down next to me, with Chevy in between us.

"Anything you want to watch particularly?" I don't have a TV, so just throw on whatever is on TV. She zaps the TV on and some sitcom I've never heard of is on. "You don't have a TV?" I do, but it's not plugged in. I use it to dry hand-washed shirts. She laughs, a LOT. Chevy looks at her and then back at me and his tail goes crazy again. I put my hand on his head and rub his temples. Her beer bottle returns to the table and her hand lands on to of mine. Chevy's tail goes crazy.

We watch whatever show it is, and I laugh a bunch. It's well written, and the timing of the actors is perfect. Kari keeps glancing at me, and after the show is over, she puts her back into the corner of the couch and looks at me. Chevy is asleep but he'll open his eye every once in awhile to give me the side-glance and wag his tail a few inches back and forth.

"So, tell me more about you." What do you want to know? "Do you have any plans this summer?" Not really. Some travel, visit with my folks, see friends, do some writing. "Do you travel alot?" Yes. "For writing?" Absolutely. "That's so interesting!" It's OK. It's a job. "I think most people would want that job."

Maybe. I turn my body into the opposite corner of the couch and we look at each other, both of us smiling. Kari lifts up Chevy and puts him on the chair. "That's HIS chair, never sit there." I would never even consider it. She sits back down and lays her her against my chest and her hand touches my ribs. My body bounches back a bit. "Oh, did you not want me laying on you?" No, not at all. I have a little injury there, that's all. "Injury?" I fell into a wooden fence, I lied. "Oh is it bad?" No, just bruised.

I have my hand on her hair and then it falls to the back of her neck. She moans. I look at her and she's blushing. "Sorry, that's umm, sorta..." your spot? "Yeah." She blushes again. My hand leaves her neck and my fingers play on her back. "Ohhh, I love my back touched." Who doesn't? Another half hour of it and I can tell she's got goosebumps. Her light moans are an incredible turn-on and Little Fire Hydrant decides to wake up. She's laying on me, so I'm sure she notices.

In response, she rolls herself over and grabs my shoulders, repositioning me better on the couch. She crawls up my chest and puts her hands on my neck and cheek and kisses me. It's a great kiss, not much tongue, not inhaling or exhaling. She kisses 50 times better than Lena does. It's obvious the girl is passionate.

As we kiss, she straddles my jeans. I can feel her warmth against me and I'm sure she can feel my cock straining through the jeans. Whenever I kiss her cheek or her chin, she moans. My hands tease her neck, too, and my fingers run through her soft brown hair and end up on her shoulder, teasing her neck by barely touching it. She's writhing a bit, grinding a bit, kissing her way down my neck to my neckbone as she unbuttons my shirt slowly.

She pulls my shirt off my shoulders and kissing my shoulder and my bicep. "You don't look that muscular but you seem so strong." Muscles don't mean strength. She pulls my shirt down further and unbuttons it completely down as she kisses her way down my chest to my belly. I'm a bit hairy on the front but she's not concerned. As she pulls my shirt away from my ribs, she sees the 9 inch bruise on it. "HOLY FUCK." What's wrong? "That's not from a fence!" The bruise is actually 4 bruises all in the same general area.

"Did you get punched?" No, I fell on a fence. "Don't lie. I dated a football player in college, I know bruises from falling and crashing into bodies. It looks like you were punched 3 times!" Ok, I lied. It's from a fist. "What the hell happened?" I was sparring with a friend of mine, he was teaching me some new moves. "Sparring? You fight?" Only to stay in shape. "That's bullshit, what happened!"

I tell her that's the truth. "You do this often?" Only when he's in town. He's a fast, skinny strong guy who teaches me to be able to defend myself. "Wow, that's really sexy." Her lips softly kiss my bruise without eliciting a response of pain. I have my hands on her head, running my fingers on her scalp which brings forth a series of moans. I run my fingers through her hair softly, ending up on her neck and then her back through her shirt.

She sits up and pulls my shoulders forward so she can get my shirt off. As she throws it onto the coffee table, she pulls her own T-shirt off. I look at her face, not her tits, but she puts her hand on my chin and tilts my head down. "You can look at me you know." I know, but I like your face. "You're a tease. You know I had NO idea you found me attractive? At least look at my body once in awhile." I did, I'm just good at hiding it. "Tease."

In honesty, her body is great. She's a 32B, almost perfect. Her tummy is flat and her hips are fantastic. As she puts her mouth on mine again, I play my fingers on her back and on her hips. She's grinding heavier now, and my cock is really wanting to get out of my jeans. As our tongues battle and we nibble on each other's chins and necks and earlobes, I softly run my fingers from the bottom of her back up to her bra strap. She moans louder than ever and pulls her face away from mine and stares into my eyes. With that, I unsnap her bra strap in 2 seconds. She reaches up to push her shoulder straps off and her bra falls to my belly off her arms, past her hands. Her tits are PERFECT.

"You like?" I look into her eyes and nod. Again she grabs my chin and forces me to look at her chest. In response, I move a hand up from her hip, up her ribcage slowly, and trace the outline of her breast without coming close to her nipple. She moans. She climbs up higher on my pelvic bone and throws her tits right at my mouth. Instead of licking or biting, I open mouth kiss the area between her boobs and then run my tongue in a wide circle around one breast, staying far away from her nipples.

She moans, a long moan that finishes in "teeease." I grab her shoulders, pull her back and in one motion push her to the couch on her back. Her hand runs up her side and she grabs a nipple lightly, but I pull her hand away, putting her fingers in my mouth. Another moan.

I look in her eyes and she how pretty she is like this, completely at ease but turned on beyond expectations. "Do you want to go to bed?" Maybe. "Maybe?" I don't fuck on a first date, and I don't sleep around and do one night stands. "Neither do I." Also, I'm not looking for a girlfriend, and I don't want to lead you on. "You're so much fun and exciting, but I don't want a boyfriend either. We don't have to have sex, but my couch is really lumpy and small." It is, I laugh. She laughs back.

She pushes me off of her and stands up. Perfect tits. She sees me watching her so she runs her hands from her shoulders down to her nipples and down her flat belly, her thumbs finally resting on the top of her jeans. Then she unbuttons her jeans, turns and walks to the bedroom. I stand still, and she turns around, smiles, and bites her bottom lip. Little Fire Hydrant jumps again and she notices.

I follow her into her bedroom and she douses the light, leaving only the light from her kitchen softly bouncing into the bedroom through the hallway. She unzips her jeans and rolls them to the floor. "You can take yours off if you're comfortable. I promise I won't fuck you, too much at least." I listen and unbutton my button fly and toss the jeans on top of her hamper.

She gets into bed and under the sheets, the bedroom colder than the rest of the house because of the small window facing an alley. I climb into bed with her and we embrace, kissing deeply. She moans so much, I know this one is going to be fireworks in bed. She pushes her leg outwards and forces it under my thighs, bringing me between her legs. My cock popped out of my boxer hole and is pressing up against her panties, which are obviously wet with desire.

And her damn dog is in the bedroom, running around trying to find a way to hop on the bed. Oops.

We kiss more, our hands playing on our bodies. Her moans are intimidating, but as my mouth finds more of her body, they just get deeper and lower. Her hips are really sensitive, so I am careful not to tickle her. Her knees are ticklish to, so I avoid them as I work down to her ankles and feet. I bite down a bit on the side of her foot and she moans at that, but doesn't jerk away.

I work my way back up her body, avoiding her pussy and her tits. I kiss her again and she grabs my shoulder and rolls me over to my back. She works her magical mouth on me, not avoiding my nipples. As she kisses my belly, her hand grabs my cock. "Oh, it's beautiful. You're thick." I say nothing as she slowly strokes my cock and licks my belly and then my thigh. My cock is inches from her face and she strokes it, watching it in the light as it gets harder.

"I have to suck your dick, really badly." I look down at her and smile, not resisting. She licks it from the base closest to my balls, licking around the shaft slowly. I moan and put my hands in her hands to caress her scalp and hair without forcing her to do anything specific. As her tongue plays on my cock, it gets even harder than earlier. I moan when she licks the underside of the head and then she runs her tongue up the head to lick up my precome. "Mmm, not bad at all" she says. I moan my response and then she widens her mouth and takes the head in.

I don't come from blow jobs, almost never. But she's popping my cock in and out of her mouth, getting the head in and using her tongue as it penetrates her mouth to caress the underside of my head. She's VERY good at this, and I'm really happy about it.

She caresses my balls but I push her hands away. "Too sensitive?" she asks, and I nod my head. My hands push her mouth back onto my cock as she struggles to get more of it in her mouth. I grab her neck more and give it a little pressure, letting my cock push deeper into her mouth. Finally I hit the back of her tongue and she gags. "Fuck, that thing has gotten thicker! What the hell?" I laughed and then force her mouth back on it, pushing again to the back of her mouth. Another gag.

"I don't think it's going further than that, not without practice." Oh, so you want to practice more in the future? "Fuck yeah! I want this thing in me, by the way. Are you sure you don't want to fuck?" I do want to fuck, but I think we shouldn't do it tonight. Let's go out again and figure out if we're right for that. "Ok, but I had so much fun, I don't think you're going to hurt me and I'm not going to hurt you." Just suck my cock and shut up.

She complies, bobbing her head up and down my cockhead, trying to get it deeper in her mouth without gagging. Every time she gags, she takes a deep breath and goes back to it. Good gal. I'm shocked that I feel my balls tingling, a sure sign that I'll come. Blow job orgasms NEVER happen for me, but she's really enthusiastic about sucking me off. As I get closer, I pull her hair up so my cock pops out of her mouth.

"What's wrong?" I'm close. "It's OK, I want you to finish." In your mouth? "Sure, you taste really good, I'm not afraid of it." She puts her lips back on my cock and picks up speed to match my pulling and pushing on her neck and hair and scalp. Less than 5 minutes later, I tighten up and I feel her mouth get wider. Her hands grab my cock at the base and on the shaft and start pumping with her mouth just open.

I come, shooting my first arrow straight down her throat. That causes her to gag BIG time so my cock falls out of her and she coughs from my load. The rest of my come hits her chin and her neck and some of it lands on my cock and my belly. "Damn, I wasn't expecting it to be so strong!" I laugh and she licks up what is on her chin using her finger and then cleans off my cock with her tongue. "What the hell, you taste really good. I can do that again." She looks at my cock as I come down from my orgasm and it's still mostly hard. "I guess you can, too." I laugh and she laughs, crawling up my body, my boxers still down at my thighs.

"I think we should fuck, soon. Maybe?" Definitely. She kisses me, the taste of my come on her tongue still. My cock gets harder from the kisses and she starts stroking it again. "This is good." Yeah? "You're going to fuck my brains out aren't you?" If you keep talking like that I will. "You're going to fuck my wet pussy and make me come, right?" More than once. "Haha, one is good enough and usually all I have." Trust me, my cock in your pussy for the long haul will do wonders. She strokes me more, "I know."

We keep kissing, me on my back, her straddling my hips. I grab her ass and pull it upwards on my body. Her eyes widen and I smile, pushing her hips up to my belly then past my chest. I tell her to stand up and pull off her panties. She stands, but is a little wobbly on her old mattress. She pulls her underwear off and I stare at her pussy. She shaves but hasn't in at least a week, leaving me the impression she wasn't expecting to get here tonight. That's VERY attractive, plus I like a little bit extra there on occasion. More natural and fun.

Her dog sees her standing, and yelps a few times to get her attention. She ignores him, which is good because I've been with dog owners who COMPLETELY lose their train of thought with the ole mutt in the room.

"Now kneel over my tongue and get that gorgeous pussy of yours on me." She smiles and kneels over my head, still wobbly but stabilizes as I put my hand on her ass cheeks and guide her pussy to my face.

Her lips are fairly big, but her clit is beautiful. She's definitely past the foreplay stage and ready to be fucked, no doubt. Instead, I tease her pussy by using my tongue to pull her lips apart, licking the inside of her lips while avoiding her clit and her pussy hole. She moans, her hands on my forehead and pulling on my hair.

She thrusts her hips a few times, suffocating me a bit as I pinch her ass to get her to back off a bit. Her pussy tastes good, and she's incredibly wet. I keep teasing, running my tongue from back to front, barely glancing off her large clit. I keep pulling her pussy apart, running my tongue into it, around it. I take her lips into my mouth, and then her clit is surrounding by my lips, but just barely.

She bucks a bit, moans a LOT. Good thing her roommate moved out. Her hands are pulling on my hair and squeezing my forehead as she rocks onto my tongue and lips. I use my nose to push into her clit harder this time and she lets out a little scream. "Eat me" she commands, and I do, finally taking her clit into my lips and using my tongue to push up against it gently, but just with enough force to get her really moving.

Her pussy juices are streaming into my beard, her thighs are compressing against the sides of my face, and her clit is popping in and out of my mouth with a great rhythm.

"Oh fuck, like that don't stop" she screams as I start sucking on her clit and massaging her ass to the rhythm of her face-fucking me. "Yes, yes suck it don't stop" she screams as her hips push HARD into my face, her clit throbbing in my mouth and against my tongue. I run my finger across her asshole to tickle it a little and she comes, hard.

"Oh god yes suck me, suck my pussy, I'm coming." I love it when a girl is vocal. A woman SHOULD tell a guy she's there. I hate those quiet orgasms, they bore me. She wasn't faking it as her pussy unleased more of her juices into my mouth, down my chin, down my bearded cheeks. Her pussy lips slammed against my mouth and chin as I finished sucking her clit just before the point of being too sensitive.

As she finished I backed off, opening my mouth and withdrawing my tongue so she could grind her clit into my mouth at her pressure level. Not too rough, just enough to get the rest of her orgasm out. Finally, she collapses to my right, falling over with her forearm on her forehead, wiping sweat in this cold room. "God damn it." I look at her and ask what? "Damn it. If you can eat pussy like that, I really have to know what your cock feels like inside of me." Ok. "Now?" No. She looks at my cock which is just as hard as when it was in her mouth. "You look like you can go again." I can.

"Crawl onto my tits now." Huh? "Straddle my tits. I want to watch you jerk off on me." I comply, straddling her gorgeous breasts. She pushes them together, giving me a little more to work with as I stick my cock between them. A few pushes and it gets harder. She glances down and tells me to stroke it for her.

And I do. She's just dirty-talking enough to keep me really horny. I stare at her face and know I'll be covering it in my come. Maybe not this time, but sometime. Her eyes are wide and her lips mouth the words I like to hear. I stroke my cock for a good ten minutes, pushing it between her lips often to get it lubed. As I start to moan, she asks me to come.

I ask her where. "Anywhere." Tell me. "On my tits, my neck." Just there? "On my chin, in my mouth, just come for me." I do, sending my first stream across her neck. She opens her mouth a bit, and I aim for it but completely miss her face and land another stream across her shoulder onto her pillow. She turns her face to try to catch it, and the third stream hits the back of her cheek as I always compensated for my bad aim. She turns her face towards me and I push my cock up to her tongue and send the final load down her tongue. I tell her not to swallow it. She smiles and sticks her tongue out, my come dripping off of it down onto her neck.

You can spit it out. She say "uhh uhh" and she smiles and shakes her head no. Her tongue pulls back into her mouth and she makes an obvious over-acting job of swallowing what little I gave her. "Mmm, definitely can use more of that. You can come in my mouth anytime." Yeah?

I pull up next to her, forgetting about my own come on her pillow which now is embedded in the back of my hair. Oops. She cuddles up to me, pulls close to me and straddles one of her legs between mine. My cock is still semi hard and she notices, asking me if I'm sure I don't want to fuck her. "Not tonight."

We talk more, and at some point we both fall asleep. Eventually she goes to the bathroom, so I turn over. When she returns, she spoons up to me, my back to her front, and we fall asleep until the next morning awakens me early.

Kari ended up being my fiend with benefits for most of 2008. More on that to come in a future journal entry from my past.

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Fiends with Benefits, Part II

Auto-posted at noon while I am on a flight somewhere over the Atlantic. More auto-posts coming, and I'll be returning tomorrow evening.

This is a continuation of Part I.

Wednesday came without much excitement, although I was looking forward to taking out Kari. I hadn't dated many people in the service industry (retail, in her case), and she definitely was cute and she definitely had an interest in the Sane one. Win and win, at least so far.

Since I didn't have many high hopes, I decided to go as casual as I possibly could: jeans, a simple dress shirt (it was COLD still), my current favorite spring jacket (tweed) and a decent pair of shoes that I hadn't worn out completely yet. I promised her an 8pm pickup, and found myself running early, giving me time to get the car washed inside and out. I love a clean car. My car is a massive piece of shit: 10 years old, dings and dents and rust and all that, but most people who have ridden in it know I have pride in my car, she's like my secret lover. I own a small share of a local car wash company, so I can get it washed twice daily if I wanted to.

The car wash happens to be about 10 minutes from Kari's apartment, so I zipped through there, had them do a quick hand-wax, shine up the tires and vacuum the fuck out of the inside. Perfection in 15 minutes. As I sped down Halsted, I realized I'd arrive at exactly the perfect time.

I pulled up at 7:58pm and miraculously found a spot right in front. Her apartment is an older building, about 20 units. I tried her cell phone but it went to voice mail, so I hopped out of the car and rang her bell after navigating the buildings that don't have their addresses prominent. I heard her door slam closed upstairs and heard her hop down the steps. I can usually tell a person's mood by the way they walk, and it was obvious that she was in a good mood.

As she came down the stairs, I saw her through the glass door. She was beaming, and she was dressed casually but cute. It's obvious she works at a shoe store because she was wearing jeans and a dress t-shirt, but she had gorgeous flats on. My kind of gal.

She opened the door and immediately gave me a hug. Whoa, easy there vixen. My hands wrapped around her slim waist and accidentally bumped on her ass. Tight. Nice.

"You smell good." Do I? "Yes. Is that cologne?" Nah, just my body wash. She looked at me after she released me. "Thanks for picking me up and being on time. Which car is yours?" I point to my beloved vehicle and she squeals. "I LOVE THAT CAR. Is that the same car that McRae drives?" My eyes widen about twice their usual size. How do you know who McRae is? "I LOVE that guy." Umm, me too. Man-crush for sure. Few Americans have any clue who you're talking about, and yes that's his car. "That's SO exciting."

We wander down her step and I let her into the car. As I close the door and walk around the front, I notice her checking out my ass. I have a big ass, but I think it suits my body. I've been told by numerous women that my ass and my hair are my only two good physical assets. Well, that and Little Fire Hydrant, but not because he's big, just because he's pretty. So be it.

I hope in the car and rev up my sweet mistress. We take off as the car lurches forward down the rocky street, undisturbed by the bumps and potholes of winter. "It does drive well. Wow." She's excited about MY CAR. "So where are you taking me?" I was thinking sushi, but if you're not into fish, then burgers for sure. "Oh, I like sushi but it's too expensive. Burgers are good." Too expensive? I'm buying, I asked you out. "No, I think I asked you out." Well, maybe initially, but I called you, therefore it's my treat. "That's not necessary." Of course it's not necessary, but it's the right thing to do. How about this, if you don't have fun, then we split the tab and we move on. "Ok, deal." She squeezes my forearm and giggles a bit. Oh, how I love a woman's giggles.

We chat a bit in the car: she's 26, went to college and was finishing her master's degree in something to do with kids. She's surprised that I didn't attend college, but I explained that I was lucky enough to learn more during my high school years than most. She accepted that answer and even told me that I seem way smarter than most. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

So we finally arrive: Kuma's Korner. Outskirts of Roscoe Village, some of the best burgers in town, and a great beer selection if that's your thing. "Ohhh, I've wanted to come here for months, but it's out of the way." It's a good place to go, but it's getting ridiculously popular and busy. "That's OK, I'm in no rush. I snacked earlier." Me, too.

I assist her out of The Car and she grasps my forearm again as she stands. "You're stronger than you look." Maybe. She smiles at me and THEN lets go. Whoa, hott. I love a woman's touch, especially a casual/tease touch like that.

We wander into Kuma's and it's not too crowded. It's cold so the outdoor patio is closed, so we leave our name and wait for a table. It's PACKED for a Wednesday night, but a table opens up in 10 minutes. We chat during the wait, both of us restraining from ordering a drink too soon.

"So what do you do for a living?" I'm a writer. "What do you write about?" Whatever I feel like. "And you get paid for this?" Not well.

It's been a goal of mine to downplay my income severely. I drive an old car, live in an old, tiny apartment, and wear designer clothes that aren't flashy or logo-oriented. Money can either attract gold-diggers, or it can turn off those who have none. It's important to downplay it, especially when dating.

"I hate working at the shoe store, but the pay is great, I'm treated like a manager, and it never gets too busy." Retail is hard, especially now. "I know, business is down, but we have so many regulars. It's a cute shop." I like it. Lena likes it.

"What's her story, anyway? Why don't you date her." We're not physically compatible, but I like her company. "Physically compatible?" Lacking chemistry and mutual attraction. "Oh, what doesn't she like about you?" It's not that direction. She laughs, a lot. Another touch.

I don't ask, but she offers that she isn't seeing anyone. I ask why not. "Guys either want to treat me like a slab of meat, or they get too lovey-dovey too quickly. No one knows how to take their time and just have fun." I heard that often. Do you at least date a lot, try different things? "When I meet someone, which is rare to none." Try internet dating? "Yes, and it's a failure. The guys are all so desperate for SOMETHING that they try too hard." Right.

We sit and look over the menus. She orders a draught beer, I order vodka on the rocks. "No beer?" It doesn't sit well with me. I casually check out her body without making it obvious and she's got a nice one: 5'5", great figure, good skin, nice eyes. Her teeth are imperfect, which drives me CRAZY. Sadly, no glasses and no jewelry. I love earrings and finger rings on a lady.

We talk more about a lot, with her leading the conversation and me prompting her to talk more. She doesn't pay attention to the crowd around us. I'm surprised that she doesn't pay attention to the 4 strapping gorgeous guys at the table next to us. Interesting.

She orders her burger, I order mine. They arrive in about an hour (it's THAT busy) and we both gobble them down, hungrier than we had realized. The conversation is smooth, there's a good amount of laughter but we cover some of the deeper topics. Politically we're 180 degree apart but neither has a problem with the other. Family-wise hers is quite simple and basic: mom and dad still married, a brother and a sister with her in the middle. Parents live in burbs with her older brother.

We cover her school schedule and she said she wants to finish her master's the next semester if time allows. I asked her if school got in the way of her dating. "Definitely. I just don't have time for a 'real' boyfriend I guess." I nod my head and she smiles. There's a definite understanding here. As the night progresses and the alcohol fills my head, it has the opposite of the usual effect: she's looking cuter and cuter. Alcohol usually makes women LESS attractive in my head, but I'm seeing things about her that I find absolutely adorable. She's fidgety on questions about dating, but completely confident on everything else.

We wrap up around 11pm, the bar jumping and the music blaring. "Want to go somewhere else?" she asks, also obviously annoyed by the masses around us. Sure, drinks or coffee?

"I have coffee at home, we can hang out on the couch and find a movie." Uh oh. Coffee and couch? This girl wants the Little Fire Hydrant, maybe. I hope not, I really can't handle another woman looking for a one night stand, something I'd never done yet.

Coffee is fine, couch is fine, movie is fine. "Just fine?" No, I mean it sounds like fun. "You're a hard one to penetrate, aren't you?" I don't think so. Do you take me as cold? "Oh, no, you're really passionate about things, for sure." PASSIONATE. There it is. My NUMBER ONE attraction in a person.

The tab comes and she lets me pay it without a fight. She does thank me, though, and I tell her I appreciated her company, so there's nothing owed in either direction. Her eye brow raises at that and she sends me an evil grin. Uh oh, trouble.

We wander to the car and she has her arm looped in mine. *swoon* She walks tall for her height, and she's beaming as we get to my car. I'm getting a little nervous, unsure of how I should handle myself if she tries to jump me. Even if it's just a person I fuck, I still like to get to know them a bit better. I hate to be used for just sex, thrown away. So far it's never happened, but there's always a first.

We zip back from Roscoe Village to her neck of the woods, and again there's a parking space right out front. 3 for 3 today, parking-wise. Again I help her out of the car and let her lead the way up her staircase towards her door. As she stops to get her keys out of her purse, she turns to face me, mere inches from my face since her stoop is small.

Then she kisses me. Hand in her purse, hand on the doorknob. Out of the blue. Whoa, good kiss, too. "I wanted to get that out of the way." Oh? She blushes. "Not that I expect anything, but I've been wanting to do that since dinner." Why? "You're good looking and I wanted to make sure you found me attractive." Would I have stayed at dinner for almost 3 hours if I didn't? "I don't know. Men are so odd, either total players or total losers." Women are the same. "I guess. I had fun, I just needed to know." I smiled, and then I blushed. She grabbed her keys and popped the door and we hopped up to the second floor, both of us happy from what was a really good, albeit short, kiss.

Wrapping up in Part III.

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Fiends with Benefits, Part I

Auto-posted at 11am while I am on a flight somewhere over the Atlantic. More auto-posts coming, and I'll be returning tomorrow evening.

March, 2008:

Beward the Ides of March! It's my favorite holiday, actually. The one where the people revolted and took down their monarch. What is better than revolution? I prefer peaceful revolution, of course, but it's still a holiday to celebrate.

I was semi-seeing Lena. She was a mix of 16 races and I'd say she had the absolute best combination of each. She wasn't pretty, really. She wasn't hot. She wasn't cute. She wasn't what I normally considered someone I'd date. But she was sexy as hell and looked good in EVERYTHING. Lena was my most recent sugar-baby. We had some sex, here and there, but I didn't really get into her as much and I think she sensed it. It was good sex, but nothing mind blowing (not for me at least).

I still loved seeing Lena in great outfits, and when I had particularly good jobs, we'd go out and splurge a bit. After returning from a trip to South Africa (I was TANNED and I was CUT because of surfing for 5 days straight), I called her up and asked if she had found any digs she liked. "Nothing much. Oh, wait, I did find something!"

Lena was the perfect sugar-baby: she never asked for things, and when I proposed shopping, she rarely bought. When she did, it was always something we both loved.

"Shoes!" Uh oh. Shoes are a tricky part for me. If I buy a woman shoes, she's getting fucked in them, that day. I don't care WHO the woman is, but shoes are a line drawn in the sand. Usually with Little Fire Hydrant. Shoes?

"Yeah, I found this little boutique in the city. And I'm horny. And I know you're horny. Let's get shoes." Let's! We made plans to meet around 1pm at her place, and I arrived a few minutes early. She was dressed for success, and I was excited to see what shoes she found.

We drove down to one of Chicago's many boutique neighborhoods and popped in the shoe store. She went to find her shoes while I browsed other women's shoes to see if I saw anything I liked for her. The store had tons of great smaller boutique brands, but the styles were just boring to me. As I wandered down the long and thin boutique searching out Lena, I passed the check-out counter lodged in the middle of the store.

"Hi!" said a young-looking brunette. I turned to look at her and replied back. "Looking for something for your wife or girlfriend?" No, just a friend. I pointed at Lena down at the end of the store. "Oh! She's been in here before. Does she have something in mind?" I think so. I look at the gal closer, and she reminds me of a friend of mine from high school. So I ask her name.

"Kari." Nice to meet you Kari. She smiles and I turn to see what Lena is trying on. Sadly, she doesn't find her shoes, which happened to be on sale and were already sold. Neither of us is sad, so we prepared to say goodbye to Kari when she added "We can order you shoes, even those that are on sale." Lena jumped up at the chance after looking at me for approval, brought over the style she wanted and asked for her size. "You're going to love these, they're really comfortable. Who should I call when they come in?" Me.

I wrote my number down and made a joke about being the most frequent customer at women's shoe stores it seems. Kari laughed at it and let her hand glance mine that was holding the paper. Interesting. I looked up and her eyes were twinkling and her smile was wide. I didn't break the glance as I pushed my name and number towards her.

"Thanks, I'll call you next week when it comes in." Lena and I left and went to her apartment. We fooled around a bit on her couch but didn't have sex. It had been over 2 months since we had last fucked. I liked seeing her in pretty things but I didn't really like fucking her. Ugh. I was horny, too.

We made out for a bit, went and grabbed a bite to eat, and I told her I'd give her a ring when the shoes appeared. A few more kisses (she WAS a great make-out buddy) and off I went.

2 days later, I had a call: it was Kari. "Your shoes, err, your friend's shoes are in." Awesome, that was fast! "We had another order from the same company so they put them in the boxes. When should I expect you?" Later today.

I zipped over there, Lena was at work and she had a first date with a guy later that night who she met online. I was on her ass to date more, and I figured good shoes wouldn't hurt her chances of meeting a decent guy. When I got to the boutique, Kari was working solo again. And she looked better than just a few days ago.

"Hey, Chicago!" she said, remembering my name. I go by Sane, if that's OK with you. "Sure Sane. Again, I'm Kari." I remember.

We chit-chatted while she rang me up. "So she's not your girlfriend?" No, not at all. "You buy your friends shoes?" It depends on the friends. Clothing, usually. Not shoes generally. "Your girlfriends, too?" Rarely. I haven't dated a lot lately, so it's mostly friends. "With benefits?" Something like that. Whoa this gal is forward. Her eyes were twinkling still, and she had the cutest smile.

"Want to hang out sometime?" AND STRAIGHT FORWARD. I wouldn't have expected that from her, but she did show the signs of interest. I accepted. I asked for her number and said I'd call when I was free. "Hopefully soon, I've been bored lately." Me, too.

I grabbed the shoes and zipped to Lena's. "Was that gal all over you again?" Haha, the shoe girl? "Yeah, she's cute and she digs your shit." She asked to hang out. "Ohh, you should TOTALLY do it." Maybe. "No, she's cute and she's your type. Why, don't you think she's cute?" Definitely. Eh.

Lena tried on the shoes and she looked great in them. Awesome purchase. She was meeting her date at 8pm for a late dinner and asked me to check her over. I thought she looked lovely and told her so. "Oh, Sane, you're so fucking precious. We should fuck, soon." Sounds good to me. In truth, we never did again.

The next week Lena had told me about her date (crash and BURN touchy-feely dork). She reminded me to call Kari, who I had honestly forgotten about. So I did, on a Tuesday evening. Her phone rang 3 times and she answered it. "Hi?" Hi Kari, it's Sane. "Ohhh, hi! I was just thinking about you today, wondering if you were going to blow me off." Why would I do that? "Guys have been weird lately." Tell me about it.

"So are we getting together today?" Again, aggressive. I like it when a woman CAN be aggressive, but not when she's ALWAYS aggressive. I told her tonight was bad, but I was free Wednesday and Thursday. Two options, friends. "Wednesday! What do you want to do?" Afternoon or evening, I asked. "I work until 6 at the shoe store, so maybe 8? Food or beers?" I don't drink beer, but drinks is fine. Food is, too. "How about somewhere quiet?" Done, I'll pick the place.

She gave me her home address (a good sign of interest, actually) and I promised her I'd see her at 8. I was a bit concerned by her enthusiasm (don't get me wrong, I love when the ladies like me!). I had a recent history of breaking hearts and was trying to get over that. It's not that I played around a lot, but I dated a lot and found myself bored a lot.

I never understood it until recently: when a gorgeous guy dumps a gal, she usually accepts it. She knows he's out of her league and at least she "got with him." When an average-looking guy decides not to move forward, it hurts the woman's self esteem. Maybe it hurts more. I decided to play it cool with this one, let her come to me if she wants it, and see if I want it, too.

More in Part II auto-posted later today. Yes, I'm a tease.

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I had sex. And a date. Actually 2.

I had sex tonight. Not the kind of fast and furious sex you're probably used to here, not even in a bed. That kind of slow and passionate sex that includes every taste, every touch, with conversation and laughter in between sessions. The kind of sex everyone should hope for, but rarely gets.

We fucked on the dining table, sloppy sex that tasted amazing. It was loud in the room, the lights were bright, and our neighbors didn't care at all.

It all started when an anonymous blogger and I chatted a bit online. Neither of us had much in the way of large plans later, and I'm flying out of the country tomorrow, so tonight would be a good night to get together with someone fun and cute. Since my in-town bootie calls number in the low zeros, I figure what better than to take a lovely lady out for dinner, drinks and good conversation?

I proposed we get together, and she said she'd let me know. Usually that's a bad sign, but it WAS last might. She left work, I went home. Eventually, she hit me up on the Google Chat, confirming wanting to do something.

We bantered back and forth about where to go: Taxim (tapas) or maybe Avec (French). I love Avec because it's good French cuisine served "family" style: everyone sitting at one big table, with their own orders.

I left my house at 7:55pm and told her I'd be there in 22 minutes. She didn't seem impressed with my ability to know times and distances. 21 minutes later, I pull up to her apartment building and stepped outside of the car to call her.

I'm here, but I'm a minute early. "Oh, that's a problem, I need a minute more" she joked. We laughed and she said she'd be right out front. She was a COMPLETE FUCKING KNOCKOUT in a purple dress. I told her to dress casually and she comes dressed in a way I'd expect a woman to dress for Alinea. Thank god for tanned women with great curves AND good legs who can dress. God graces me regularly.

I hold the car door for her and she makes a comment, to which I replied that my mother taught me well. We hit the main thoroughfare to get to the highway, and we're pulling up to Avec not 20 minutes later. Avec is a restaurant that packs itself to the gills. Family-style dining is WISE if you're busy, there is NEVER an empty chair. This makes it hard to give the hostess $20 for a seat when there are none. So I drop my name and we step outside.

The hostess warns us that the bartender may or may not come outside. Anonymous Blogger and I look over the menu, her noting that she doesn't like heavy reds (generally my favorite) and both of us agreeing against pink wines. She likes Champagne, as do I, but there is neither Champagne nor prosecco on the menu. Drat!

Within 20 minutes, our 2 seats are called so we wander in. Our waiter is Gentile Dave (my nickname for him so I don't forget). I do ask him if he's Jewish Dave, to which he frighteningly/jokingly responds "No, Gentile Dave." Good enough. We're seated in between a party of 4 or 5 guys and a pregnant girl, with a bunch of ladies on the other side of us. Not many gorgeous people in the joint, but everyone's cute and dressed well.

I wore a simple pink linen dress shirt and jeans. Anonymous blogger had tits, I mean, she had a purple dress. Right. We decided to take a stab at a PINK sparkling wine, I believe a Baga Rose Brut. I could be wrong. The waiter wasn't sure if he even had it, so I proceeded to back it up with the best sparkling white on the menu. The price list was CHEAP.

A few minutes later, he arrives with our wine, the rose brut I ordered. He pours for me to check the wine, and I take a whiff and nod as he finishes my pour and then hers. GOOD wine. Perfect for a hot summer day.

Anonymous Blogger and I go over the menu. I'll call her Delecta from now on (it doesn't mean what you think it means). She hasn't been to Avec before, so I make a few recommendations. She wants the Yelp favorite small plate, and we decide on one large plate to share. Gentile Dave takes our order, and we don't see him much from that point on unfortunately. I hate shitty unfriendly unbantering waiters. FAIL.

We imbibe more of our sparkling pink and make GOOD conversation. She's laughing. A lot. I'm laughing. She notes that I talk about myself a lot, something I rarely do if EVER. But I'm comfortable with her, and I don't mind making a fool out of myself if it means she'll laugh again. Contagious, damn it.

The first small plate comes out: asparagus, hummus-s spread, on crostinis. It's VERY good. I don't eat asparagus often due to my kidney stones, but they didn't affect me at all tonight. Hott. My spooge will taste like asparagus for the next 2 days though.

We eat, in conversation, and continue laughing and drinking our rose sparkling wine.

The the date portion of the night comes: spicy chorizo, wrapped in dates, wrapped in bacon. She had 2 dates, I had 2 dates (hence the 2 dates of the night). I try to talk, but she shushes me and puts her finger up to her mouth. I'm not kidding, I was 80% tempted to throat fuck her then and there. If that wasn't the hottest move I've seen a woman due as a precursor to food fucking, I don't know what is. I think Little Fire Hydrant may have moved a bit to the left.

We eat the chorizo/bacon/date combos slowly. They're AMAZING.

More chat, all over the place. We do cover it all: movies, dating, fucking, food, friends, animals, family, hobbies. I even told her about a real sword fight I had. Fun.

We're on our second glasses each of the wine as the foreplay comes to a close. In perfect timing, the final small plate comes with the large plate hitting our table moments later. The small plate is a hand-crafted boudin (sausage) with fava beans, parsley and onions. GOOD, but fell far short of the other plates. But then the orgasm happen, and it was mutual, and it happened over and over: pork shoulder, basted with sausage (boudin) and noodles in its own cast iron tub.

Her eyes rolled up into her head as her eyelids shut. We split it in two and it was so tender that it fell apart, but still so tender it didn't get snagged in my rough teeth. And it was GOOD sex, I tell you: wet, tender, loud, quiet. She swallowed all she could handle and still left a little bit for later.

Sadly, it was passing 10:30, more than 2 hours of fun, and she had responsibilities at home, plus work in the morning. I tabbed us out, surprised at the low 3 figure total. My car was valet parked right in front (I usually as for my car to be placed RIGHT in front, but the valet guys did anyway). The restaurant was still packed as we left, her with her doggie bag, me with a post-orgasmic look on my face.

I drove her home. We continued to chat. Fun was had by all.

We both admitted the lack of good sex in our lives. I've had it more recently than her, but she's ready to pile-drive the next big dick that comes along her way attached to an attractive and intelligent man.

Still, I was THISCLOSE to the throatfucking after she confided in me regarding something about my blog. I'm not kidding, if I had let her out of the car, I'd have bent her over the hood of my car and had my way with her. There will be a LOT of fun-times by myself tonight thinking about THAT story that, alas, I can't share.

So there it is. It wasn't the sex YOU wanted to read about, but it was as good as it can come. And I'm looking forward to doing it again.

Maybe next time we'll hit a dive German bar, get sloppy drunk, and food fuck for 4 hours. Who knows? But I definitely am ready for round-two.

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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Confusing the educated masses, one word at a time

Also posted mobile-y, sorry for the spelling and grammar.

After dinner I hit a local pub I generally like, although notsomuch on Mondays. A friend from years past introduced me to his girlfriend, and her and I talked when he left to do some business of sorts.

I knew it was time to leave when this COLLEGE EDUCATED ENGLISH GRADUATED became confused by our conversion:

Me: I guess I have a flair for being histrionic, but I tend to think it's just jealousy over my urge to introduce every sense I notice in my daily journeys.

Her: Histrionic?

Me: Grandiloquent.

Her: Huh?

Me: Declamatory?

Her: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Me: Bombastic?

Her: ...

Me: Over the top? Dramatic with a capital D?

Her: Oh. You should have said dramatic.

Me: But histrionic means MEGA-dramatic.

Her: Then say mega-dramatic.

Me: Where did you get your degree from?

Her: Rutgers.

Me: Didn't they just get a Guinness Book award for having the most people dressed like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?

Her: Yes! I went to that.

Englih Major FAIL. Remembers a day of people dressed like weirdos, en masse, but can't decipher a simple word that ALL English majors should know, and use, daily.

I had to leave after that. My brain hurt.

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Monday, June 22, 2009

Breaking a Dating Rule: the server

Posted from my mobile device. Sorry for spelling and grammar.

I decided to take myself to a new restaurant in the city, this time for seafood. I yelped, I googled, I even Metromixed. None did me good. So I texted a few upper crust friends and got the same reply from 3.

I ventured out to town and arrived at the mostly-empty restaurant. It's late for dinner, so I expected Monday to be slow. The down-side? Rarely fresh seafood.

I dressed it up: Italian tailored shirt (tagged super slim fit), bespoken jeans, new shoes, argyle socks. I am fairly tanned, so I hopped up the ponytail and left the glasses at home. Even though I'm getting zero attention from local women (zero), I'm feeling quite attractive and confident of late.

The hostess was nice, early 20s with a cute outfit. "Are you waiting for someone?" No, dinner for 1. "Sounds good." I notice a very cute server talking to a lady my age by the bar serving station. I probably had a stupid grin on my face displaying my happy mood. Both ladies noticed, and both smiled back. Bonus!

I sit down and the hostess takes my drink order: Campari on the rocks. "No one drinks Campari!" I do. On the rocks. She smiles, shakes her head, and ventures to get my drink as she leaves a freshly printed menu on my table.

I breeze through the menu, and see the seafood options are plenty, many with no pasta or taters. Perfect. The hostess arrives with my drink, letting me know that Maggie will be my server tonight.

I sip my drink and close my menu. My back is towards the bar area so I can focus on the road out front.

"What is that?" I hear from my right. I look up and make contact with the cute server in burgundy hair. The color doesn't work on most gals, but it brings out her brown-green eyes. Ouch.

Campari. It's a drink that takes time to acquire a taste for. "I've heard of it. What does it taste like?" Earwax. "Oh, gross." It's an acquired taste. Give it 5 chances. "Maybe. Do you know what you want?"

Ugh, she's cute. Great mouth, flat-ish tummy, nice shape overall. But I don't date servers who serve me. It's amateurish. But my friends are nagging me to date someone local: not for sex, but so I have a date when I'm out on occasion.

I glance around the room. There's at least one other server, plus the 30-something manager (I assume). So I ask Maggie if she'd mind if I switched to another server.

She frowns, her eyebrows dropping half an inch. Cute. "Why? Do you have a usual server here?" No, but I'd really like to get your phone number, and I hate to break rules.

"Rules?" Your rules or establishment regulations. "Oh, well I don't generally date customers, right. As for the restaurant, I doubt it would be a problem. My manager said you looked cute, too." Too? She blushes.

"I mean when she saw you walk in." That's not answering my question. "If I give you my number, will you accept that as my answer?" She blushes again. Yes, that's acceptable. "And will you call?" We'll see, a lot can happen in an hour. "That's not answering MY question," she says playfully. So I tell her I'll call.

She jots her number on a check-stub and puts it on the table. Through a reflection I can see the manager watching, maybe smiling. "Do you know what you want?"

Yes. Something NOT on the menu. It's slow, ask the chef to whip up something HE likes to cook. Simple is good. Seafood, veggies, no pasta or potatoes. "That's how you stay in shape?" No, that's how I keep the crazy out of my head. She smiles again. "Cute." I blush. Off she goes, giving me ample time to check out her ass. Good. I cock my head a few degrees and notice her manager watching me check her out. She smiles. I blush.

Dinner is fantastic. Maggie is playful, friendly, and professional. The check comes, and I leave her 20%, less than I would if I didn't ask her out. No need to be an idiot here.

She asks me my name, saying she was assuming she'd get it from my card. I paid cash. Sane. Chicago Sane. Just call me Sane. "Ok, Sane. Hope to hear from you soon." My week's busy, I lie, but I will call. Promise.

She touches my arm as she laughs. I finish my wine from dinner, stand up, and smile and wink at the manager on my way out. She returns both.

Maggie showed three signs of interest: she asked for my name, she touched my arm, and she mentioned the future date. All very positive signs of an interested woman.

Will I call? Probably. Do I want anything of her? Not really, but she WAS cute, and maybe it'll shut up my friends until I can fly an out-of-town lover to Chicago for a weekend.

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A secret of the elite: staying skinny

After my intercourse amongst the wealthy and powerful, I realized I forgot to post something I promised a few of you that I'd post: the secret to staying skinny.

Many people believe what they read: what supposed doctors say, what dieticians say, what governments suggest, what TV commercials push. The lies that these conspiratorial masses vomit on us haven't changed in decades, and most people still fall for it.

The lies are the following:
1. Eating fat will make you fat.
2. Exercise will make you skinny.
3. Calories matter.

All 3 of these things is a lie. Not just a little lie, but a big horrible lie. The wealthy and elite have known about it for 200 years. Hollywood has known about it for 100. To this day, most people still believe these lies. They waste their time at health clubs, they waste good flavor for horrible-tasting cardboard, they spend time counting calories and reading boxes. All for a great big lie.

When the FDA created the food pyramid, it was based on a lie. They did it to pander to the wheat and corn industry. When doctors propose counting calories, they do it for a lie. Fat people sell more medical services, more medicines, more long term profits for the medical industry as a whole. Health clubs push the lie, as do diet book writers. But it's a lie, and it's a lie that can be confirmed with very little effort.

There is only one thing that effect body fat: insulin. That's it.

A few people over the years actually discovered this to be true, and attempted to help others to acknowledge it. Dr. Atkins of the famed Atkins Diet was one, but he didn't go far enough, or he went to far. The Atkins Diet works wonders for weight loss and health, but it was sold to consumers in a way that caused boredom. The media (part of the liars and conspiracists) also fought the lower-carb way of living.

Dr. Taubes also wrote recently about it, clarifying the case for reducing one's insulin reaction to what we eat. Insulin in the body comes from a reaction to one thing: eating too much sugar or starch. The baddies are always the same: potatoes, bread, rice, ice cream, pancakes, pasta. These things either ARE sugar, or they convert to sugar quickly. When any of them touch the tongue, the body reacts to the soon-coming sugar rush by creating an insulin rush.

Here's the problem: processed foods confuse the body into creating too much insulin. When the sugar hits the gut, the insulin battles it, but there's too much insulin left. The reaction: we get tired. Know when you hit the 2pm doldrums? That's because you ate too much sugar and starch, fatty. After you overcome the insulin-created tired phase, you get hungry. The body wants you to eat MORE sugar to clear out the insulin. So you eat again, and then you create MORE insulin.

Insulin in the body also creates other side effects, mainly weight gain. When you eat so much crap (sugars and starches) the body stores ugly byproducts of that as body fat. It feels like it can protect against starvation by loading the body up with long term energy.

The medical industry found a wonderful way to sell more services and drugs by lying to people that calories matter. Calories don't. And because people THINK calories matter, they think that working out matters. It doesn't. When I lost 35# of fat (from eating too much sugar and starch for a year), I didn't work out AT ALL.

Many people think that eating 2500 calories in a day means they can work off 1000 calories in a day and only have 1500 calories to count. Wrong. They'll still get fat. Fat people won't get skinny. Working out CAN increase muscle mass, which may stretch out some of the fat to give yout he appearance of being healthy, but the fat will still be there. It won't get burned off as long as your body has sugars and starches from consumption in the blood.

I've seen it before: people thinking they can indulge in a pizza because they worked out hard that day. Sadly, that pizza will still convert to glucose in the body, and still add fat to your ass and belly. I'm not saying you can't eat pizza, or pasta, or bread, but you have to consider the short term effects those foods can and will have on your body's insulin reaction.

There are those lucky people who have bodies that adapt very well to consuming sugars and starches. They're a rare few, and yes you should be jealous of them. For the rest of us, we need to focus on foods that are lower in sugars and starches, especially if we're obese. I'm not saying jump on the Atkins Diet (which fails most people), but seriously focus on the effects of EVERYTHING you eat, and continue to find foods that don't effect you that way.

One way I gauge the effect of certain foods is by monitoring my belly after eating. If it's bloated, I ate too much starch. Your belly doesn't get big from eating too much food, just eating too much starch. Insulin has that effect. I can eat a 2# burger and not get bloated, but if I eat a 1/4# burger with a huge pretzel bun, it will bloat. Insulin-galore.

Note that I do think that working out strenuously is wise. It's heart healthy, and it makes you stronger overall. But the way MOST people work out makes little sense. They spend 30 minutes on a stair machine, working out the same muscles that get bored of the energy expenditure. If you're not pushing your muscles to failure, you're not working out properly.

Doing repetitive exercise IS good for your heart and lungs, but it won't help your fat problem. Neither will doing a few reps that cause your muscles to fail (and grow), but it will cause you to add some muscles to areas where your skin is loose and could use some definition. Exercise doesn't burn fat enough. It makes you hungry, which causes you to eat, and if you eat the wrong foods, you'll get fatter.

It's funny that the wealthy and powerful tend to know this (especially the young gals). It's also funny that Hollywood has ALWAYS know this (they have to stay trim, so it's in their best interest to keep it a secret). I only wish that other people knew this. We'd have fewer diabetics. Health care in the country would PLUMMET in cost (fat people cost the most, because they have the most service needs and drug needs). We'd be more active individuals as a whole, producing more with less energy. Food costs would fall as we wouldn't all be trying for the same unhealthy grains.

Still, there aren't many who believe me. Even if I point them in the direction of actual medical advancement that proves that sugars and starches are BAD and make you fat and lazy, they still want to listen to those who conspire against them. Their doctors, their governments, their diet advisors, their health club trainers. These people ALL have a financial interest in keeping you fat.

And that's the key to living independently of those who want to control you: believe no one. Trust no one who has a financial interest in the product of services you are paying for.

Instead, stick to a diet of healthy fats: cheeses, meats, fish, heavy cream, dollops of oil on everything. Stay away from the unhealthy products: "low fat" anything, "light" anything, "skim" anything. Bundle in GOOD vegetables: the darker the better.

If you want pasta or rice or potatoes, keep them to a fist-size or smaller. Add in more fats to offset the sugar rush. Don't be afraid of red meat or greasy cheeses. Good fat in your diet won't end up on your ass, but the pasta will.

If you're going to work out, don't JUST do repetitive exercises that increase your heart rate. ALSO work out muscles independently to the point of failure: low reps of ridiculously heavy weights. If I can lift a weight more than 5 times, it's too light. I prefer to burn my muscles out doing 3 reps, 3 times. My arms or legs or abs will be broken for a day, but they'll look huge in a week.

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