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Saturday, July 19, 2014

A Small Wager

I've recently been visiting some colleges and taking the campus tours with a daughter. She's a good kid and good company, and it's been a lot of fun. But I've about had it with the tour guides. First of all, everything they say is sales pitch and propaganda. According to the guides, every school we've been to is filled with 100% engaged students who are completely thrilled at the education they're getting, a faculty who lives and breathes to get to know their undergrads better and give them sage guidance, dining halls serving food that's both nutritious and delicious, etc., etc. Sorry, I've been to college, and I know sugar-coating when I hear it.

Secondly, the tour guides are the over-achievers. Straight A students, president of five different clubs, involved in everything. Apparently never had a beer, a smoke, or kissed a girl. It's party line all the way. Do not say *anything* that might alarm the parents.

Anyway, one of these brown-nosers told the following story to illustrate how amazing the food service was at his school. A female friend of his is vegan, and he's a cheeseburger kind of guy. Well, she bet him that he could eat nothing but the school's vegan offerings for two weeks and be perfectly happy. He did it, and was *delighted* with the food. So she owed him.

At this point, my imagination kicked in. After I've eaten nothing but vegan food for two weeks, what am I asking for in return?

A blowjob every day for two weeks? That seems like a fair trade....


Or maybe something like this. Pay off the debt in one night. That would work too.


But no, here's what he got in return. The next semester, she had to take an art history class that he loved.

Sigh....

Friday, June 27, 2014

FFF: All Aboard


I'd heard the talk that air travel was the way of the future, but it seemed hard to imagine that it could be as civilized as going by train. I made my way through the terminal at Penn Station and boarded the Broadway Limited. New York to Chicago in 15 hours, arriving at 8am. Why would anyone want to get there faster than that?

Besides, there were other luxuries I bet you couldn't get on an airplane.

"Miss Morgenstern, I'm going to order a martini from the club car while we review the Amalgamated Products file. We meet with the vice president at 9am, and the numbers have to be right."

"I've already double and triple checked them, sir. Everything's in order. Your presentation is ready."

"Excellent. Perhaps you'd like a drink too?"

She caressed my leg with her foot, starting at my ankle...then moving higher. "I took the liberty of having our drinks and dinner sent to our berth. I thought we might want a little...privacy."

"Yes," I winked, "we might."

The whistle blew as we came out of the tunnel. The clouds were parting and the sun was low in the west. Fifteen hours to Chicago. Perfect.

(200 words)



The challenge this week was:

Key Words: Parting, Station (check)
Word Limit: 200 (check)
Forbidden Words: Discreet, Forbidden, Tryst (check)
Extra Credit: Name the train and the destination (check)

Go see Advizor to see who else is participating.

Friday, June 13, 2014

Tough Choices and Wood Nymphs

Sensual Goddess: (with a twinkle in her eye) So, you're going out into the woods with your buddies instead of coming with me to (home and native land).

Me: Well, yeah..this trip's been on the calendar for a while, and I didn't know it would be the only time you could go.

SG: Of course, I understand. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you're choosing. Sleeping on the ground, in the company of smelly guys. I know you'll enjoy the hiking and the camaraderie. That's a good choice - even if the alternative is going where we could find another Saucy to entertain us. And where you get wakened with a "Canadian good morning." I'm sure you'll be just as happy in your tent.

Me: (laughing, shaking my head, and muttering under my breath) I wasn't exactly thinking of my choice in those terms....

SG: I'm happy to help clarify things for you. I'd go visit Saucy on my own - but it's more fun to watch your reaction. Next time for sure. And maybe this will be the time you find a wood nymph who can take care of you.

Me: Seems unlikely. But hope springs eternal. And I'll tell you all about it if I do!

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Sex on the Beach

No, not the drink. Here's a headline from my local news today:
Cops: Couple charged for sex on Sea Isle beach
And yes, the pic on the right is the actual newspaper photograph.

I understand that sometimes it just doesn't feel like you can wait for one more second, and the whole world disappears except for the two of us.... But really? In the surf at a popular beach at 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon? And indiscreet enough that, to quote from the article, "a crowd of spectators had already formed"?

Crazy kids these days....

I'll admit that sex on the beach is something I've never done - and while it's a nice thought or fantasy, it's not an actual desire of mine. The thought of sand in the privates makes me wince. In my experience, going back to the room and a nice comfy bed has always seemed like a much better option.

Anyone have thoughts or experiences on beach sex they'd like to share? 

Monday, May 26, 2014

Growing Up with Porn

Sillyone at Teetering on the Brink of Normalcy posted (here) about parenting in the age of internet pornography - and specifically, what to do about a 15-year-old son.

Tom at Three Spelling Mistakes weighed in with In My Day... - and he and I seem to have grown up in the same era. When I think about the lengths we would go as boys just to see a Playboy or a Penthouse magazine.... And often there was nothing you could *do* - you simply had to wait until the porn fairy saw fit to grace you with a stash of woods porn (as I've written about.)

Those Penthouse magazines were more valuable than gold. And as dangerous and unstable as uranium. Once you had one, did you risk bringing it in the house to stash in your bedroom (high risk, high reward) - or did you try to find a super-secret spot to hide it in the woods (no risk of parents, but the risk that it would be found...or rained on and ruined...plus you couldn't be, *ahem*, alone with it.)

Even into my 20's, porn meant Cinemax soft-core porn late at night on Fridays and Saturdays. *Atrocious* movies - but I'd stay up and watch the whole thing just to see ten minutes of horrible unconvincing simulated sex. But that's what was available.

I really can't imagine being that horny (and I don't have words for how *desperately* horny a teenage boy can be - it's pretty much all-consuming) - and having access to unlimited free hardcore porn. If you'd given me a laptop with unlimited access to porn, I really think I never would have come out of my room.

Anyway, this is more reminiscing about a time I wouldn't go back to for all the money in the world than giving any thoughtful advice to the parent of a current 15-year-old. Looking at the feedback to the original post, there's a link to a Dan Savage post that seems like a really good answer.

I guess teen sexuality has always been a minefield, and ubiquitous porn hasn't made it any easier.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Five Times a Week

I just saw this on my Facebook feed. The journal reference is here.

Key results and conclusions:
Men who averaged five or more ejaculations weekly in their 20s had an odds ratio (95% confidence interval) of 0.66 (0.49–0.87) compared with those who ejaculated less often.

Ejaculatory frequency, especially in early adult life, is negatively associated with the risk of prostate cancer....
If this is true, then the odds are definitely in my favor. In my 20's, I'm pretty sure I was averaging seven times or more per week. I'm not in my 20's any more - but I think I'd better keep up the five times per week, just to be safe.

I love it when science recommends that I do what I'm already doing. :-)

Sunday, May 11, 2014

An Evening on Campus

As chance would have it, I'm wandering the campus of my old alma mater, VPU, on a gorgeous Sunday evening (acronyms, if you care, are defined here). It seems like the best option for the evening. I've delivered Younger Daughter and giggly friends to a concert in the city, and it doesn't make sense to go home and then turn around and come back to pick them up. So I've brought my laptop and can walk around, or set up in a coffee shop or public bench and observe, reminisce, and daydream. Random thoughts to follow:

7:12pm: Walking the campus with a backpack on my back, I feel like I'm still a student here...transported back in time. My reverie is broken when I see my reflection in a glass wall. I've lost some hair and gained a beard that's as much gray as brown in the intervening...how many years? Calculating.... Holy smokes, really?!? Well, it's less than 30 years...yes, definitely less than 30. I'll take comfort in that fact, since 30 years would be a very long time. :-) All too soon, I'll have to redefine what constitutes a very long time...but that's a worry for another day.

7:32pm: I've found a table in a sparsely-populated courtyard, and can daydream and write in peace. My time travel has taken me back to a place that's not the happiest - I didn't have one date here, or kiss one girl, in four long years here. How is that possible for a desperately horny young man?!? But I really didn't, and I wasn't the only one - none of my core group of friends fared any better. This is a *serious* place. I had some adventures at home in the summer, and dated a girl from SCGC for most of my senior year. But my next romantic or sexual adventure on this campus will be my first.

Two of my equally sexless good friends were very short, and came up with a theory they quite liked - that women only wanted tall guys. In joke-filled late night conversations, they would fantasize about what a swath they'd cut through the campus women if only they were taller. As I was taller than average, they would mockingly shake their heads and call me "a waste of height."

I think about my friends who went to ESU, and I just shake my head. From the tales they told, they may as well have been on another planet, not just at a different school. But when I think about what would have happened if I'd gone there, the most likely scenario is that I wouldn't have gotten laid when everyone around me was, which is much much worse - far better to not get laid when none of my friends were either. Best not to pursue this line of thinking.

8:03pm: Coming back to the present, I can't help admiring the coeds passing by - leggy young things in short shorts and t-shirts or tank tops. I can't help feeling a little like a voyeur or a dirty old man - but I simply can't help myself. I can't imagine that I'll ever lose my appreciation for the magic of the female form. The Sensual Goddess is fond of saying, in situations like this, "She's young enough to be your daughter." While that may be true, my response is always the same. "But that one's *not* my daughter." I'm just looking, and am completely harmless.

8:24pm: I love sitting anonymously in a public place and people-watching. I really am a voyeur, in every sense of the word. I enjoy watching and observing.

Question: when you're sitting and watching people walk past, do you ever play a game with yourself where you give yourself 10 seconds to decide on which passerby you'd most like to fuck? Ummm...no, I don't either. ;-) But if I did, it could be an amusing game. A sample from this evening might go like this.
And...go! Too young. Too young. Wow...but still too young. (Holy smokes...really? You're sure she's too young? Yes, stop it, keep looking!) Look at her...a little older...short yellow sun-dress, look at the legs! Time's almost up, is it her, or keep looking? No, it's her, yellow sun-dress! *ding*
A busty brunette in gym shorts and a tank top who walked by two seconds later might have been a better choice...but you have to make quick decisions, and you can't second-guess yourself. In the purely theoretical event you ever play this game....

9:01pm: I just thought of a girl I hadn't thought about in a very long time. Possibly the most beautiful girl I've ever known (no offense to anyone currently sharing my bed and last name. :-)) She was half-Japanese and simply *gorgeous*. Exotic, fashion-model beautiful, tall, slim, leggy, busty. Possibly the last boyhood crush I ever had. Thinking about her made my heart *ache*. And I couldn't think about anything except her. We got to be friends - but in today's terminology, I was very much friend-zoned. We went to the movies together, and I'd phone her late at night and we'd talk talk talk. But I was so shy in those days that if she'd wanted to be more than friends, she would have had to take the first, second, and third steps. And she never gave any indication that she wanted to be more than friends. So it didn't happen. Very sweet...very innocent...very bittersweet.

9:19pm: I've relocated to a campus Starbucks. While walking over here, I saw two young ladies walking toward me, young but not undergrads (i.e., not *too* young), both pretty and sexy in an understated classy way. One with short blonde hair...shorter...bustier...in a short white dress. The taller one, longer brunette hair, short blue dress. My internal conversation went something like this:
Okay, Max, which one?

Which one? Well, duh - how about both!

No, that's a fantasy for another time. You have to pick *one*. Which one? Quickly now.

Hmmm...there isn't really a wrong choice is there?

No, there sure isn't...just look at them.... But c'mon now, play along. Which one?

I really have to pick....? Okay, the blonde.
Then I asked myself why? It wasn't because she's blonde - I don't have a preference for hair color (though I tend to gravitate to brunettes.) Bigger tits? No. Of course I appreciate a nice rack, but that wasn't the deciding factor. Watching them walk, the blonde just seemed more comfortable in her body...it seemed like there was a slight swish in her walk that held the promise of delightful mischief. Of course it could all have been in my head....

9:46pm: Time to wrap up my campus daydreaming and go pick up my concert-going girls. This was fun. Until next time.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Still Alive

Is there anything more boring or self-indulgent than the blogger writing about why he isn't blogging? No, not many things. But since I've already started down that path, here's the condensed version, before you click over to a blog with something interesting to say: I'm fine, and hope to be writing more soon.

For anyone still reading, first of all, thank you for keeping me on your reading list. I'm alive and well. Life is generally good. I'm as beastly as ever (as reported by those in a position to know), and I have fantasies, observations, and real-life adventures to share.

So if that's true, then why aren't I writing? I'm not sure the answer to that. When I look back at when I wrote 10, 12, or 15 posts per month, I don't know how I did that. That took a lot of energy - but it wasn't a struggle, it was what I really wanted to do. I can't seem to muster that energy now.

One thing I can say for certain - this blog isn't going anywhere. I like what I've written, and I like being able to look back over it. And I hardly ever look at blog stats like I used to, but when I do, I'm pleased (and kinda amazed) to see that people still read my stories. I guess if I ever run for the U.S. Senate, I'll have to take the blog down for safety's sake - but barring that *extremely* unlikely occurrence, I'm not going anywhere.

I know that blogs (and especially sex blogs) age in dog years. My four-year blogoversary was in April, which I think means that a pretty young nurse will wheel me into the seniors section of Blogger (strained carrots for dinner, long rambling stories of the good old days and how it used to be on Blogger - just be sure to get me back to my room in time for Wheel of Fortune!)

Anyway, enough rambling. I'm alive, I'm well, and I hope to write more...though I have no promises or predictions of that actually happening.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Sunday, February 9, 2014

The Underfucked Pussy Epidemic

Kat has a great post titled "The Underfucked Pussy" (that title's a grabber, right?), which is her always-thoughtful commentary on a post she read, The Underfucked Pussy Epidemic.

I have a few thoughts. But rather than first offering my own summary of both the original post and Kat's commentary, go read them both first. Neither is long or over-taxing. I'll wait.

Okay, you read them and you're back? Interesting thoughts, huh?

I think there's a lot of truth to this. But I also feel very sad for the woman in the initial post who realizes after a little discussion that she's not having "gourmet orgasms," and has no idea what they even are. What is the prescription for her?
She needs to be f-ked wide open by a man that can penetrate not only her flesh but her heart and soul. She needs his strength, his firmness, his masculine energy to be unleashed in her at a cellular level and TAKE her beyond the point of no return and right into the heavens of rapture. Only at this level can she trust her man and allow herself once again to be seen.
Powerful stuff, and doubtless true. But it's not as easy as just deciding that she'll allow herself to be "fucked wide open by a man." There's the small matter of finding the right man. (Hey, maybe it *is* that easy - I think I'm free on Tuesday afternoon. :-)) There may be a lot of chronically underfucked pussies around - but there are also a whole lot of guys who don't seem to be capable of that kind of physical and emotional intimacy. Enough bad experiences with these boys in men's bodies, and our heroine is going to close further down, not open up.

She says that women need to ask for what they want, and men need to ask and keep asking. I agree with that - but I also think it's a very hard thing to start doing if you've spent your whole life not doing it. That's a huge hurdle for many people, and requires a great deal of trust.

I like the article a lot. But I think it might be most appreciated by those who already get it, and those who don't get it will look at it without understanding. I hope I'm wrong. Combining physical and emotional intimacy into one package is what makes the magic happen. That's when the angels sing. Everyone deserves to experience that.