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.

Friday Night is not Ladies Night, Part I

I was invited by Celine and Liz to meet up with them last night, but I passed.  Not because I was afraid to see two lovers I had last year becoming friends, but because I was in the mood for testosterone.

Not bang-heads-together-Kiefer football testosterone, not check-out-her-ass-shake testosterone; I just wanted to spend time with my boys drinking good Scotch, smoking cigarettes, talking business and entertainment.

A good friend of mine, Thommy, texted me off and on for the past... 8 weeks.  I kept blowing him off.  Not because I was being an ass, I was just busy.  Plus the horniness was getting the best of me, and Thommy has a tendency to grab ladies out from under me.  He's a wealthy, trust-fund entrusted, dirty douchebag who I get along with marvelously.  So finally I agreed to hang out with him.

I texted the run of practically every guy I knew in town with a mass text: "What's going on?"  I think I hit about 50 people.  Sadly, about 15 of them replied "I moved to _______, remember?"  Oops.  Lots of job losses, job transfers, educations finishing, etc.  Hard to remember those things.

Of the 35 remaining, 25 responded.  5 said "Nothing," so I sent them details.  All confirmed: meeting up at a friend's house for a little bit to start the night off.  I open my liquor cabinet (I have a few items left before my renovation begins in June) and grab a great bottle of Scotch to share-and-pass.

I head out in the car to grab some items that were packed away by the storers and while I'm driving, my Google Chat on my phone beeps.  I don't have many people in chat because I prefer a phone call or at least an SMS.  I look and see it's a new friend who I met online recently.  At every stoplight, I send her a reply and we chat off and on while I take care of my responsibilities.  Hit the store, clean out the car a bit, head back home.

Her and I are chatting about this and that, her busy life, my busy life.  A little bit of tease is thrown in for good measure (she has an incredibly sexy style of typing).  She says a few double entendres and the next thing I know I'm in the car, driving back home after another short run of errands, and I'm hard as a rock.  Not good.  Here I am, wearing tight jeans and a tight t-shirt, and there are kids right outside of my building.  That's not the way I play, so I forcibly change the topic of discussion while at the same time making her pay for her diligent teases.

Little Fire Hydrant decides to withdraw, and I get out of the car and back to my place where the clothes come off, forcing me to have to shower soon.  I have a tendency to overshower and undershower: twice a day for 6 weeks, then skipping days.  I don't care, I have a great scent, I only shampoo my hair once a week, and I had already showered earlier.  Still, I was doing a lot of cleaning around the house, so getting the chemicals off made sense.

My little friend and I keep talking while I get my clothes together for the evening: soft black slacks (new), my new light brown shoes, a red collared shirt.  She does her little flirtatious banter while obviously having a good time talking about whatever it is we discussed.  I'm sure she's sitting there laughing out loud while I am running around the house butt naked with my cell phone in my hand replying.

Little Fire Hydrant pops up again at another comment she makes.  Ouch.  Sexy.  I tell her that she's ruining my concentration and I have to go take care of it.  Again, laughter.  And more teasing.  I start the shower (I like it hot) and think about what I would do to her if she was there.  She's a woman beyond her years, and she has some features that I find attractive and usually look for if I'm out on the prowl.  If she only knew how beaten and sweaty and busted and sticky she'd be had she come by that night, she'd probably be getting off her computer and getting off in her bed, over and over.  I came on my belly and then told her this.

Oh oh, out of Miss Kleenex.  I hadn't wanked in quite awhile, at least not where there wasn't a cute girl to lap up whatever I spilled on myself.  Damn, I thought again about the girl I am texting with her face near my cock and her tongue licking up my manjuice greedily.  What was a problem solved had returned.

Out of nowhere, the doorbell rings: it's UPS.  I forgot about my late delivery, so I grab my robe and run out there.  4 big packages, 2 overnight checks.  Nice.  Forgot about all of it.  I sign for the product and haul it in.   As I return, online gal says she has to greet someone, so I jump in the shower to rinse down.  I grabbed my cock one more time and finished fast, sending my load down the drain rather than down her throat.  She's a little too far away from me to jump in the car and teach her a lesson for teasing me like that.  Oh well, I'll get my revenge eventually.

I don't dry my hair and I rarely even dry down my body.  But since I'm in a rush, I grab a new towel (Bloomingdales), wrap it around my waist and grab the deodorant (not anti-persperant) and trim my beard down to 1-day scruff.  She returns, we chit chat while I'm fixing up, and things are good to go.  I feed the cat, throw on my clothes, have another cigarette and put the Scotch in the car so I don't forget it, and grab today's trash to throw out.  My garbage can never gets full: if it does, it leaves your place stinking terrible.

I am not going out to get laid, but who knows if I bring someone home?  I can't think of too many women who would be impressed to a guy with only a couch and no furniture, but it's a nice couch and I can properly bend over anyone up to about 5'7" over the back.  Works for me, might as well tidy the place up.

It's time to leave, so I finish up with my online friend, thanking her for her time and her teases.  I leave her with a little tease myself, and off I go, into the darkening sky, my car pointed to Chicago and my hair still drying.

To be continued.