*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature the bloggers that got thangs to say. I want you to give a special hand to The Mystery Lady.

I had an epiphany the other day. Good dick and relationships DON’T mix.

Yes you read correct and as a matter of fact let me clarify:

Good dick CANNOT be in a successful relationship.

Let me tell you why.

1. Good Dick Has Too Many Choices To Be In a Successful Monogamous Relationships

A good dick report spreads faster than Kat Stacks legs at Rock the Bells.  Once you give one girl the d and its mindblowing she’s gonna tell her homegirl, she’s gonna tell the whole world.  And best believe good dick is so hard to come by that women will practically throw men the pussy. It’s only going to be but so long one man can fight off thrown pussy before he succumbs.

2. Good Dick Makes It Okay For Men To Cheat…yes I said it…

Men with good dick know that they can act up.  The good dick man is more likely than not going to say something out of pocket, do something to piss you off, or cheat and be sloppy with it.  The catch is that you will miss the good dick and an “I’m sorry” and a DMX in Belly style dick down will make you forget whatever it is that made you mad in the first place.  Why?

Because GOOD DICK CAUSES BAD DECISION MAKING.  (Please refer to my previous post on all the types of bad decisions good dick will cause you to make.)

3. Good Dick Can Only Settle Down Once It Tires Out

I  have several male friends that had stellar dick reports that are now married. Until they fucked every girl under the sun and just got too old for cirque de sole style sex in the car, wore out from froggy style in the kitchen, and back shots in the shower…they weren’t ready to really settle down.  Seriously. I know this for a scientific fact.  We all know that guy who after a running through every chick in the city suddenly decided to get married. Why?

Because GOOD DICK KNOWS WHEN ITS RUN IS COMING TO AN END.

So rather than leave the game  with a BDR they would rather gracefully bow out.  I’m not saying they aren’t capable of having a great performance every once in a while on special occasion but best believe if you marry that guy who had the great dick report in college best believe it won’t be as good as it was back in the day. I’m just sayin..

Ladies, I know this may be hard to cope with but I’m just trying to save you shawty.

Men, am I lying?

“Why can’t I date my brother’s friend?”

*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature readers/bloggers that got thangs to say. I want you to give a special hand to Chris Juneau.

You’ve got a big date coming up this weekend. You’ve been seeing this person for a while and you’re not sure if this is the day when she’ll finally come to your house for that night cap. Just in case this is the night when she agrees to come home with you, make sure that your apartment is date-ready.

Roommate arrangements

If you live with roommates, make sure that you have an agreement about keeping common areas clean. There is nothing worse than bringing someone home and finding a big sloppy mess that someone else made. If you tend to go out on Friday nights and he stays in and orders pizza and plays video games, be sure to let him know the nights that you have the potential of bringing a date home.  Sure, she won’t mind meeting your roommate, but she didn’t come home with you to play Portal 2 with your roommate.  Set up an agreement that after either of you brings a date home, the other will exit the common living area and give you some privacy. She may want to come to your bedroom eventually, but having that as the only private option is not good.

Fill the Fridge

Have something around that you can offer her. She’s probably not going to want a cold piece of pizza and a can of Budweiser. Put a few diet sodas in the fridge and get a decent bottle of red wine. Pay attention to what drinks she orders when you’re out and have some of that around. Likewise, some simple cheese and crackers or something to offer her to eat is nice. Chances are she won’t want to eat, but it’s nice to have it ready.

Clear the bookshelves

If you have a fine porn collection and Playboys that date back to 1983, that’s great. I’m impressed. But she’s not going to be. Put the porn away. Sex toys too.

Hide the exes

Likewise, put away all the photos of you and your last girlfriend. It’s okay that you were in a relationship previous to her, but if she sees pictures of you two together, she’s going to think you’re still hung up on her. Also, check the fridge photos. Is there anything on there you don’t want her to see? Something revealing from your frat party days? Something sexist or nasty? Take those down too. You want to make a good first impression.

Pick up the place

Yes, clean. Vacuum the floor. Do the dishes. Put clean sheets on the bed. Put the dirty clothes in a hamper and in the closet, out of sight. Pick up the dog toys and put your softball equipment in the garage. Make your apartment look the way your mom always wanted your room to look when you were a kid. And for heaven’s sake, make sure the bathroom is clean!

Light the mood

Those overhead lights are too harsh. Make sure you’ve got some lamps that you can put dim and maybe even some candles.

Set the mood with music

Have a sexy mix ready on your ipod that you can pop on to set the musical mood.

Author Bio: Chris Juneau is an avid blogger. He adds a male voice to discussion about dating and relationships. He currently blogs with OnlineDatingSites.net

*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature the bloggers that got thangs to say. I want you to give a special hand to The.Kisser

Laycock: v. the act of begging for sex. “So when you gonna cum lay with me?”

Being a strong minded woman, who knows what she wants, especially when it comes to sex, I’m all for men being dominant and assertive. The kind of man who has no qualms about telling me exactly what he wants, and that his want is me, not in the dutty, feel up my ass and attempt to brush up against my boobs way, but the eyes locking, hair tingling, “I want to make you feel good”, smooth bedroom voice way.

But there seems to be a new breed of man, infiltrating the scene, the type of man we may all be able to relate to, the pussy beggar.

Now, we’re so used to hearing about chicks, begging for dick like crack heads beg for a hit, ringing down a man’s phone’s talking about “I don’t care, your boy’s can hit it too”, I honestly didn’t think there would be a male equivalent, the innocence in me thought only chicks pulled that bullshit, until I met Cleveland Indian.

When I first met him I thought he was mad cool, being a chef he was on the way to my heart because I love food, but the more we talked and got to know each other, the more I realized this fool was needy, and in the worst way. Almost stalkerish. Calling my phone every hour and God forbid, I didn’t answer, in the span of five minutes his ass of a number would show up 20 times on my phone. The more he pursued the pussy is the more I did not want him near me, and it wasn’t that he was ugly, he was cute, some may even say may fine, looking like J.Holiday, rocking his long hair don’t care. Many nights the opening chords of Bed would start playing and my horny self was quick to wriggle into some jeans (because that was my song!), planning to drive to his house for some dick, only to be rebuffed with his ass of a number showing up on my phone “You gonna cum over and play?”

No, no I’m not. Damn!

Now, I’m not trying to hate on his game or whoever uses this tactic to get pussy, but let me tell you men, if you thought that shit was cute, it’s not! And whoever is giving it to you either does so out of pity or damn anger, because they are tired of your ass whining. Ladies aren’t attracted to that mess, for the most part we want a strong confident man who lets us know he wants the pussy without having us feel like if he doesn’t get it he’ll throw a sobtrum, acting like he about to cry and shit, that crappery will get a pussy dry so fast!

In the midst of my complete and utter disdain for the pussy beggar, I have not forgotten that majority of us at some point have laycocked. Whether it’s been a relationship/marriage laycock: your mate is not giving it to you often enough, or the way you want it, so you devise fiendish ways of getting some, ex. sexting, showing up at the office with a ‘picnic basket’ of sex toys, accosting him/her in the shower, etc. The ex-sex laycock: you haven’t moved on as yet, but you need a good lay, so you attempt to convince your ex as to why you are what’s hot for the night. Those are all understandable and needed, but for the ladies, the milky way stops flowing when it comes to the pussy beggar laycock: booty texts all the time saying the same thing in 30 different ways, “So when you gonna cum lay with me?”

I’m not. Damn!

Even if I was in a sexual partner drought, I would rather finger myself to death than have pity sex with a pussy beggar. There are no good feelings stemming from that. No benefits. He would be trying extra hard to prove his worth to you, and what you’ve been missing, and all you’ll be thinking is how much you hate whatever or whoever convinced you to say yes. And if he does happen to rock your world, that high will quickly dissipate upon the arrival of ‘yo, you cumin over tonight’

No, no I’m not. Damn!

So men, before you make the decision to go past normal laycocking and enter the unforgivable realm of pussy begging…stop…and just don’t.

.kisses

The opinions expressed in this post does not reflect those of Candy Diaries. Candy Diaries is an equal opportunity blogger, and thinks this is some trifflin shit. Here is the Mystery Man.Enjoy!

I want you
To have my first and my last child
But not now
I’m not done playing around

I’m not saying that
I don’t wanna stick around
I want to stick you…and every cutie in the town

You turn me on
With your skin so soft
But I want to get off
And your body’s not enough

I mean, its perfect, I promise
It’s fly in its entirety
You think that I be lyin
But I just want some variety

It tears me up when I’m with you
I love you
But I want to bang your girlfriends, your sister,
your cousin

I even caught your mom’s sideways glance
You see that ass in her pants?
I love you but I’d hit it if I had the chance…no disrespect

And I don’t feel guilty
Because although my minds filthy
My love for you is pure
Just let me bang a few more whores

Relationships aren’t really designed for me
Resign my D-I-C
for monogamy?

I just want to be open and honest
Bang my old chick from college
And come home to you

And don’t worry bout the bone
I’d keep it stronger for you
And my love doesn’t exist
For nobody, but you

So STOP TRIPPIN
I cant help that my magic stick
Is so sick I can whip, pornstar chicks
They submit to the dick

Strippers abandon their poles
To swing around mine
I don’t pay for lap dances
She pays for the ride

And I’m feelin like dykes are missing out
From the pole I’m giving out
I’ve turned a couple out, put it in their mouths
Backshots, shouts on the couch

Digging her out,
“A” in the air, she’s reppin the South
Head down, smelling the couch
Sometimes she’s saying “ouch”
Don’t care—cum coming out.ahhhhhhh

But its just a nut
Once she’s gone, I’m back in the tub
Shower going, missing your love
Water hot, steam up above

Love you, but
You can’t accept me
For who I am Am I a criminal or am I just a man?

*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature readers that got thangs to say. I want you to give a special hand to A. Nonymous.

Okay, so I’m doing this guest blogger thing cuz I was talking with some friends, and one said she’s still waiting to experience her first “O”. My heart sank. Almost literally. It does that each and every time I hear a woman say she’s never had an orgasm. I really don’t know what my life would be without them.

I started having sex young… really young. Not by choice though. Then I got a boyfriend. Mid-stroke he stopped and told me “you don’t know how to fuck”. I soooooooooo wanted to cry. But I didn’t. He didn’t stop there though (so glad I didn’t cry) and commenced to, ummm, give me pointers. We broke up for a minute. I tried those moves out on someone else. He cried. He came, but he cried, too. Just for good measure, I gave another one a try. Similar reaction. But you know what? THEY were having all the fun.

Then, enter my friend. My homie. My ace. For all intents and purposes, he will always be known as “that fat bastard”. TFB for short. We’d been friends for YEARS. Well, a couple of years. Anyhoo, I was bored, he liked me, you know what comes next. Understand, TFB was the largest dude I’d been with. Not penile large (although he was slanging) but physically large… beer belly shit. So, round 1 is over, and he asks me what’s up with the choreography. I’m like WTF man? So he says, “yeah, you got moves for me, but what about moves for you?”. Well color be baffled. He obviously picked up on my confusion, sits up in the bed and gestures for me to come sit between his legs.

So I did. He put my each of my legs over his – right over right, left over left – and told me not to move. Don’t even think about moving. He started kissing me on the back of my neck, then the middle of my back & put his on the inside of my thighs – right over right, left over left.

Then he started talking. Nothing complicated. Nothing nasty. Just about stuff we talked about when we were out shooting pool or whatever. Then in the midst of convo he put 1 hand smack dab in the middle of legs – which were still wide open and took his other hand and started playing with my breasts. I really wanted to fall asleep, but at the same time I was feeling hot, from the inside.

Then he picked me up, laid me down and positioned the both of us some way I don’t really remember, but – don’t laugh yet – that dang beer belly came in handy. Then he gave me this brand new stroke. Well, shit. It was brand new to me. Between that stroke and my moves, and the fact that I didn’t have 5,000 other things running through my head, I was feeling some New , New shit. TFB looks at me and says “I’m gonna tell you something. When I come in, move away from me. Not a lot. Just a little bit. Then squeeze”. I’m like “squeeze?”, thinking ‘the fuck you mean, squeeze?’. So he says, “yeah. squeeze. from the inside. like you ain’t tryna go to the bathroom”. So I did.

LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHD

All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. My back was arching. My arms and hands were scrambling for something to hold on to for dear life. I broke out in a sweat. I didn’t know what to do with myself. So much so that I wanted him to stop. And he knew it. But didn’t. I opened my mouth to say “STOP” but what came out sounded like a… a… I don’t know. Let’s call it a scream. It felt like every ounce of fluid in my body was running to my toes. Then I could breathe again. Well, in little, dying goldfish type breaths. I wanted him OFF ME. But not. This fool asks me, “want another one?”. My ass says, “YES!”

I ended up having eight on my first day. Yup. Eight. On my back. On my stomach. Me on top. TFB was the catalyst for my 3-a-day workout plan. He’s also the reason why, whenever I want to, I can have an orgasm. “Practice the squeeze, boo”. That shit gets me in trouble sometimes.

So, if you’ve never had an orgasm before, I may have had enough for all of our lifetimes, BUT, I really do feel for you. The biggest thing I learned from TFB was similar to Debbie Allen in A Different World: Relax, Relate, Release. Seriously. Be relaxed in your mind. Relate to your body. Then, you know, RELEASE.  It’s never too late. May you have a partner that cares about your pleasure as TFB did for mine. Shoot, for the dudes that came after him that I made say “GOTDAM”, they need to pay homage to TFB. No. Seriously. Unselfish lover FTW. Can’t imagine my life without the “O”.

SN: I was no angel. BUT, all these years later, my status is still negative. Wrap it up!

*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature readers/bloggers that got thangs to say. I want you to give a special hand to Cymmerin.

When it comes to sex & all things sexually related, I say try it once
and then decide if you like it. After all it’s about getting as much
pleasure as you can. So, under that motto I embarked on a journey that
I can truthfully say I will not venture again.

Let me set the scene: This is my first boyfriend, second sexual
partner, and we have nose numbing sex! (my nose goes numb if my vagina
is happy) I loved him and we were looking for different things to try.
Causally, one day, he says how about we break out the lubricant and do
something different. I was excited, nipples got pert, vagina warmed &
self lubricated, but then he kept talking. Apparently his boy had told
him about taking a girl from the back, way back, Anal. I think I dried
up faster than an oasis in the Sahara desert. Now, I had only heard
about anal from a friend of mine who convinced me not to do it because
its painful, left your ass open & made you feel hemorrhoidal. But I
had stars in my eyes over this guy and I didn’t want to be the
naysayer. I broke out some liquid courage and decided to take the
plunge.
So, the action begins. Nipples are being sucked, inner thighs are
getting stroked, clitoris is getting masssaged and penis is being
slobbed down. We’re panting, the room is hot, the lubricant is on the
table and the air mattress that we’re on is dangerously close to
catching a hole. We’re at the point where this needs to be completed
before we burst at the seams and he reaches over for the condom and
the lubricant. I slip the condom on him and turn over onto my belly.
In my mind, I’m focusing on all the things that made me hot and
bothered because if nervousness sets in…this adventure will be over.
My guy is no small wonder…he has length and girth. As I look over my
shoulder, I shiver because I already know this is gonna hurt like
hell; things come out of there not go in! He glides on the lubricant
and I get up onto my knees. God help me! (don’t we always call on him
in da bed) I feel the tip of his penis around my extra tight anus and
I punk out. (No, wait, wait!)

He comes up with the brilliant idea of doing this on the black leather
couch and figuring that would be easier, I get back into the game.
(Extra lubricant please!) RIPPED ASUNDER!!! That is what I felt was
happening to me. If I had a knife I might have reached back and cut
off his penis. I bent more over the arm rest on the couch and
surprise, the rest of him slipped right on in to fuck up my colon. We
stopped so I could get adjusted to all that and surprise again, I
felt…a tingling of pleasure! Slowly, we start the timeless back and
forth motions of sex and OMG the pleasure intensified. NOT as much as
I get vaginally though & in the end, we went back to the good old
tried and true.

While I will admit there was some good tingles had, the pain to get
there is just not for me and in my opinion not worth it. Not only is
there the pain of the whole thing, the after effects are crazy. It
hurt to sit (doughnut please), I felt like the whole world knew my ass
was open (I was walking funny), I was paranoid about the “smell” and
the ability to clench was lost for a good week. I think I’ll keep the
tradition of dick to pussy & leave that “he pussy” to the gays! Child
baby, please!

*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature readers/bloggers that got thangs to say. I want you to give a special hand to “That Chick”.

I’ve been hooked on the Diary and I thought I should share this with my fellow readers. Okay…I never thought it would come to this but heterosexual men today are scant. Now as a black female, sadly it appears that black heterosexual’s are far and in between.  The reason for this lack of straight men is inexplicable. I don’t know if it’s because we women aren’t keeping it tight enough or that it’s in the blood. Now what I am about to say may make or break the relationship you are in right now as it did mine. Hopefully your relationship withstands this test.

My boyfriend of three months never appeared to be the type of guy that went both ways. Of course he wouldn’t admit to it but actions speak louder than words. I say this because I tried this test that my girlfriend put me on to which was the ‘slip finger ‘test. That is where during sex, etc… you try to coax your man into allowing you to finger him. Yep…I said it…the old finger move.  This move is a true test as to whether a man is bisexual or heterosexual. You see if a man allows you to sodomize him, he has crossed the line. By all measures, he likes anal pleasure and he is gay. Although it didn’t happen the first, second, or third time I tried-the fact that it eventually happened, that he eventually allowed me to finger him made me sick to my stomach. He has even suggested the use of a strap on. Damn…what happened to the real men? Test your men…if your afraid too then ask yourself what are you afraid to find out.

*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature the bloggers that got thangs to say. Please give up for ~The Mystery Man

My dick. I don’t want to brag.In fact, I’ll make this anonymous, to prove my point that..My JOINT is big. How do I know? Well I didn’t always know this…Until I noticed…. that every chick I kicked it with, would make a comment, like…

“Damn”, or
“Shit”, or
sometimes nothing at all
while stroking the shaft…(you damn right)…and suspending her jaws
or licking her lipswhile caressing the balls

But even then, I thought I was average. And hated condoms cause they broke while I was tappin..Asses. But I thought it was normal! Glad I never caught “it”…I got tested regularly.

I used to like small chicks. But I thought they liked small dicks.
Because when they saw mine…they’d say,“Uh uh…”,
or“That? In here?! No!”, or at best
“We GOTTA take it slow”, so…

I learned to stay away, if she was under five-trey (5’3 if you’re slow).

But in college, on campus…the word got around that I was working with something from my waist to the ground(ok not that big. lol)
But I remember smashing one girl. And her friend came around. And smashing that girl.And HER friend came around, and…well…see the pattern?

One girl said:
“Ooh, you’re in my bladder! I’ve had it this long…but yours is fatter!”…and that was pretty common chatter.

I upgraded to magnum…and now the XL’s. I could still use something a little wider. But at least they don’t break! Great.

I used to hit the ghetto clubs…me and my dick…my stick…my shlong…my $5 foot long. Ok ok, like 9.2 inches…but whos counting.In sweats (no dress code). Yes, perverted shit. (If you sucked your teeth, f*ck you…you’re either a little dicked dude or a little-dick-getting chick).With my “no point in wearing” boxers, and I knew what’d happen. So let me walk you through this shit. (ha ha, I’m laughin)

My south pole shirt…my nike sweats (I was young…with a big dick…who needs style?)I get inside…wait until the club gets packed.

I see a small waist…a tight short dress. GO!
Hood club…fly girl.
She eyes me…I think she already knows about my “south pole” (not the shirt)
She smiles…and I go.

I grab her hand (or waist)..and pull her in (down south–in the hood spots, its cool….relax). Yep…I’m already hard.My pants look like I pitched a tent sidewaysBut its dark. I’m good. But her girl sees it too…that makes it better.

I know she feels it. And if she stays for more than a second, she’s mine….and….She stays! Yes…And they always stay…and if not they always come back.

SHE stayed! Practically sat on it. Grinded… I knew she was wet.She bit her lip. Face kinda upset…but not really upset, it was just intense.She reached back and grabbed it…then inside the pants…then her friend glared at it…she wanted a chance.

Her girl grabbed it too…A tight squeeze. She stroked it, batted it….and looked at me.(What you want me to say? Hi?)

So here were two girls. All on my dick. Literally. But the first claimed it. And I slid her my number…and told her that after…..We’d meet by her school at the 7-11. To “hang out”. (I’d “hang out” alright…and yeah I did, later that night).

I walked around…poking chicks all night.
No facebook.
Like…one girl, so embarrassed, she looked around like she stole something
I pulled her in into the corner. Put her hands on the wall.
I pulled her dress down a little (gained brownie points).
They were playing slow-wind dancehall…props to the DJ!
Doggy style…I was on her for a while..she started to moan
She was feeling it strong…so I reached around…Nipples erect…bra already undone..
Then I turned the knobs…like the radio’s on
And reached around and….WHAT?
No panties on?
And then … what do you think? (no we didn’t…well, not until Tuesday

Look, I’m not saying its two-stories
My dick is big
And this is a true story

*Snapping Fingers* Welcome to the Diary of A Mad Guest Blogger. This is a segment where we feature the bloggers that got thangs to say. Please give up for Owl of Owlasylum.

Alright, I want to write about f*cking. Can I do that? Can I write about f*cking without feeling like I’m some lost hedonistic socially irresponsible sexist pig? Can I do that? Sure, I enjoy making love just a much as my more reserved brethen do. In fact, I probably do the caring, caressing thing more often than I do the pull your hair, bite your neck,  push my penis into your cervix through your mouth thing. BUT…every now and then…I need to release an aspect of my Self sexually.

And ultimately, being in a patriarchal society means that women will act like they don’t like to f*ck. I mean that forget you are supposed to have a mind, forget that you have limits, forget that her coochie isn’t as recalcitrant as she thinks type of f*cking. While we are being honest, I mean the slam your coochie in my face, as you ride my tongue, forget that that could actually hurt type of f*cking. Can we embrace this discussion as adults? Can we for once put aside all the fallacious notions set upon us by people that couldn’t enjoy a good f*ck because they simply were that socially awkward and distant from real humans that they had to create “norms” that nobody but them actually practiced in the private sphere?

No, let’s talk, shall we? Are we to believe that married couples that married for love and not convenience, don’t f*ck? Is that what we are being asked to believe?

Like if I am deeply in love with a woman, I am not supposed to like the feel of my penis head being gripped by her throat? I’m not sure if the misrepresentation of intense feelings for someone in media (the fairy tale love affairs, prince in shining armor myths) is the culprit, or the reverse: an interpretation of passionate sex as devoid of the more sentimentally symbolic motions by pornography. For Blacks the politics of sex becomes even more difficult to trudge due to the lack of images of Black female sexuality outside of what even I would define as the profane. The gyrating video vixen has yet to be replaced by a symbol of Black Feminine Sexuality worthy of serious consideration, and pornography creates a situation where certain acts are frowned upon as “what ‘hoes’ do…” Interestingly enough, most men seek a well-rounded woman defined in the statement, “A lady in the streets, but a hoe in the sheets.” Yet, I don’t want to get lost in conventional notions of what it means to be a well domesticated women, I want to talk about f*cking freely.

There seems to be a confused politically correct hypocrisy when discussing f*cking.  We pretend to not want to have passionate sex, or that it can’t be shared amongst those that truly desire to spend lifetimes with each other based on more than material security. Apart of this confused politically correct hypocrisy is this idea that women don’t like to f*ck and that men only like to f*ck. As though women must be forced into this little box of emotions that prevent them from expressing any idea of sex that isn’t gentle. On the even whiter side of that white lie is its converse, namely, that men can’t enjoy a caress, or even a slower pace sexually…sometime more than women.

Well, here is a news flash for those poor naive souls still confused by the impossible worldviews that impregnate the fairy tales and romance movies, as well as the bitter view of human sexuality cast upon us by wiggling women and tatted men parading around like studs on a slave breeding farm:

WOMEN LIKE TO F*CK (Possibly more than men…).

MEN LIKE TO MAKE LOVE (Possibly more than women…).

Now, I know that is will cause a few issues amongst those that describe their sexuality as homosexual. No offense, but I can I only speak within a framework of my own sexuality here. Also, let me handle the poor saps that only took debate and not an actual formal logic class, so now they are forever stuck looking for contradictions in the form of generalizations. I don’t claim to be a social science expert, and as I have always written, I don’t want to be mislabeled as a relationship guru, I don’t get paid enough for that. Of course, I’m deeply against the idea of human intelligent superiority based on book reading and theory regurgitation, but I am deviating from the topic. Sure, not all men like to gently embrace a woman in the manner we have been persuaded by the media to believe is “love making.” Couple this with an unfair standard that locks most women in a trap of game theory where her desires (and possibly skills) must be slowly unleashed (holding back oral sex, or sex, in an effort prove her “morality”) if she is to negotiate a caring relationship. This same line of thinking also informs men in the opposite and yet somewhat equal manner, if women are to be slightly coy, demur, and pretend that every sexual act she performs was introduced by her present lover, than he must not only the acts, but must be able to exhibit a high degree of sexual prowess, and demonstrate a certain aggressiveness. And then more confusion set in.

I think it would be easy enough here to say that we all have different cravings when it comes to sex. In most matters dealing with social intimacy, it is immature and limiting to make any assumptions about your partner. It is also immature and just as limiting to disdain individuals for the level of intensity, or lack thereof, necessary for their sexual satisfaction. Like most things human interaction, what works for one doesn’t have to work for you, and there tends to be a bigger pond for us than for our imagined fears of loneliness or media dictated beliefs.  But, all this sociology about f*cking is taking away from being able to talk about f*cking. *SMILES*

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