Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Now no relationship blog would be complete without a post dedicated to relations, would it? Referring to those of the sexual nature of course. Sex between the sexes. Having relations within relationships. Just wouldn’t be prudent not to include it.
Because sex is important. It matters. It makes unqualified Alaskan wolves in sheep’s clothing who draw blanks on subjects like magazines and court cases get to run against ‘Senator O’Biden’ based on their MILF appeal alone. Oh, it matters all right. “You betcha!”
And mind-blowing sex? Forget about it. It’s a complacency enabler of the highest degree. One weekend, my friend was all set to break up with her boyfriend she had amazing sex with but not much else. So the next week I asked her if they’d had a chance to talk, and without blinking an eye she said, “About what?” ;0)
She was completely serious too. Had no recollection whatsoever of her previous intentions. Now that’s power. To make someone forget to break up with you? That’s that good stuff.
Unfortunately however, bad sexual experiences can be just as memorable as their good counterparts. The unpleasant variety remain in the brain too. Ingrained in the membrane, ingrained in the brain! Sometimes they even overshadow the positive experiences because they’re just so sensationalist.
I’m not talking about common errors like jackrabbiting or one-minuting either. Those are a dime a dozen. To achieve the title of a ‘bad sexual stunner’, you’ve got to have that shock value. Go that extra mile so the girl’s eyes pop open in “WTF!?” fashion.
Far be it for me to judge anyone as far as sex is concerned though, since as we all know I’ve got my um, let’s call them, issues, too. An apparent fixation on a few porn genres might be seen as one perhaps? And just in case you’re keeping track, we’re stopped at ‘next door neighbor porn’ these days, even though there’s not nearly enough of it going around if you ask me. People are sleeping, that’s all I can say. Wake up sheeple! There’s no place like home.
When that bad sex resides in the brain though, it’s kept alive through the jokes and cautionary tales us girls share. Because you know girls tell all, right? When it comes to dealings between the sheets, girls discuss the details. Down to the thread count of those sheets. Like you were there. I’ve heard so many Californication stories I don’t even know what to do with them to be honest. I should start a blog or something.
There’s one story in particular that I tell quite often. Pretty much my staple. I won’t tell you where the guy was from, (Mexico) ;0) (See, girls always give it up, one way or another.) Anyway, he went down on me and everything was fine and dandy for a minute or two, until I started hearing this really loud noise coming from that direction.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…
It sounded like a fan turned on to the most high. I really wish I could give you an audiovisual demo, but hopefully this will help you get the picture. He basically, well, he basically he took it upon himself to zerbert me. He gave me an extended zerbert on my most private personals.
At first, I thought he was gonna be like, “Psyche! Gotcha…”, but when I realized that this was no joke, I couldn’t stop laughing, which I don’t think he appreciated very much. Probably wasn’t the exact reaction he was going for. He kept insisting though, “But I know it feels really good, doesn’t it.”
Which made it even funnier; all this misplaced Palinistic confidence he had in his ‘move’. He was putting on airs like he was just killin’ it. Like this was the award-winning portion of his servicing services. Not so, my friend, not so. No how, nowhere.
I found out why later. Apparently his ex-girlfriend had gone bananas whenever he used to do it. So basically, the whole thing is her fault. She’s the one to blame for his lack of progress. I’m really mad at her actually. Tough love, girlfriend, tough love.
I’m sure she didn’t want to criticize, and I understand it’s a touchy subject since guys pride themselves on their performance and all, but still. She didn’t have to go overboard and be a martyr now. Take a class if you’re unsure of the protocol. But do something. Sometimes it’s not what you do but what you don’t do. She should have nipped that behavior in the bud before it got out of hand and she created a zerberting monster. Because that was just mean.
I wonder if she was sadistic and actually liked seeing him looking silly. Maybe she got off (no pun intended) on a little cruelty. That could have been her ‘thing’.
Which is fine I guess, because everyone has his or her ‘thing’. Mine personally used to be bjs in the car while driving, (maybe because of the thrill or danger of getting caught?), until I actually did get caught in a Crash-esque experience just a couple weeks after we’d seen the movie. Isn’t that weird? Needless to say, getting caught in that compromising position kind of put a damper on my enthusiasm for that particular activity.
The fascinating part though is how the cop who pulled us over forced us to reenact the movie practically word-for-word. There was no doubt he was living out his ‘thing’, even though his particular brand of fantasy must have been more ‘intimidation’ than ‘cops and robbers’. You could tell by the way he was just beside himself with his good fortune.
First, he separated us and made my boyfriend get out of the car. Then he leaned in and tried to coerce me into giving him a play-by-play. “Just tell me exactly what you two were doing. Nothing will happen to him. You can tell me. It’s okay.”
Whatever. Whatever floats your boat buddy. Just don’t try to bring me into your dirty little games. You’re on your own with those. Who did he think he was, incorporating me into his little scenario like that without prior consent? It’s just maddening when guys do that.
One of my friends actually refused to comply with an unexpected request from a guy who didn’t follow proper procedure beforehand. The fact that the request came out of nowhere combined with the vocabulary used was enough to make it utterly heinous and offensive in her eyes. The words were said over ten years ago, but they still put in an appearance in our conversations every couple months. Timeless. They were, and I quote, “Squeeze my tits.”
Squeeze my tits. (Because you can’t just say it once.)
Now men, you know better than to say something like this, right? If you don’t, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t care if it’s in the heat of the moment, I don’t care if you’re trying to be funny and throw in a little self-deprecating humor because you’ve packed on a couple, don’t ever let those words leave your mouth. Never ever.
Leave that one out of your dirty talk repertoire when talking about yourself. Permanently. First of all, men don’t have ‘tits’. They’re strictly a female body part. Even in the Fight Club they called them ‘bitch tits’, or did you forget. Because when you say ‘tits’, the image of a man with big boob-job worthy female nipple-toting ‘tits’ inevitably flashes across our minds. And you don’t want that, do you?
Well, wait a minute. Am I being way too harsh? Now I’m having second thoughts. You know what, f it. If I’m ever in a position in the future where someone asks me to ’squeeze his tits’, I’m just gonna squeeze them. What the hell. I won’t even ask any questions. “Why sure I’ll squeeze your tits! Bring those tits on over here! Let’s have at ‘em.”
I mean, that was just his way of talking dirty. At least it was original. Because how many times have we heard the basic standbys like “Sick that duck” or “Cuck my fock”? (Yawn.) At least he put a new spin on things.
And is he really any worse than the guy who, as they were doing the deed, would tell my friend, “Now, that’s a good girl…”? I think not. Although with him it wasn’t so much the actual words as the way he would say it to her. “Now that’s a good girl.” Yucky. ;0) Or the foot fetisher who would text my friend, “Do you miss me? Better yet, do they miss me?” How do you respond to that? There are no words.
Or the guy with the shockingly small D who would repeatedly say to my friend, “here’s a little bit of d*ck for you, just a little bit of d*ck…” My friend, being the nice girl that she is, would say back, “No, no, it’s a lot of d*ck,” even though in reality she felt like saying, “You got that right!”
She said his D size didn’t really matter to her, but what she eventually got tired of was constantly being reminded of the ’situation’. She had spotted right away that it was a miniature. No need to beat the subject to death. Let’s move on.
Apparently his D was so small that she likened it to a pencil. ;0) I tried to get her to stop doing that because my stomach would hurt from laughing, “Stop it. Stop saying that word ‘pencil’ right now. And don’t you dare say No. 2 again. Too much”, but she wouldn’t. Showed no mercy.
He must have been an extreme case. Too bad for him that he wasn’t her first either, since she’d maybe then she’d never have been the wiser seeing as ignorance is bliss and all.
But they look so much bigger on TV! Guess it really is true what they say about those ten pounds.
That simply wasn’t the case though. She’d already been to Europe, and was now traveling in the Third World. You’re supposed to do it the other way around so you have low expectations. Because once you’ve been to Europe, the Third World just isn’t quite as fun. You can’t handle the truth.
Yes, sometimes we don’t want the truth the whole truth and nothing but. Like when one guy told my friend, “I like everything but beastiality, except for maybe a woman and a horse. Oh, and I don’t really care for pooping either.”
Wow. There’s a lot out there, and if those are the only two things he can think of that he’s not into, well, that kind of says a lot. I’m trying not to pass judgment on how he exercises his sexuality, but wow. Wow.
You know, since number two was mentioned, might as well talk about the guy who told my friend while she was on top, “If you have to pee, just let it out, let it out.”
I know what you’re thinking, I disdainfully said the exact same thing to myself. “Ewwww. So RKelly.”
She was very adamant in her response back to him though. “No, no! No need to pee at this juncture! Thanks for thinking of me though!” We had a grand ole time thinking of the ways that scenario could have played itself out too. Because what if she’d had to poop? Who knows how that would have gone over. Or what if he was projecting and actually wanted to pee on her… Scary. Apparently he said it so blasé too. Didn’t prefix it or anything. A little presumptuous I think.
Once again, let me apologize. I probably shouldn’t have gone into that much detail just now. You guys are all, “Dude, we get it. Just say dirty dirty talk and leave it at that. Leave something to the imagination for goodness sake!” I’ll keep that in mind everybody.
So in retrospect, I guess ‘Squeeze My Tits’ really wasn’t so bizarre after all. Just a regular guy. Your typical Joe Sixpack. And as long as your guy’s ‘thing’ doesn’t involve kids or animals or torture, it’s probably just fine. No need to throw him to the birds just because he has a couple unusual bedroom preferences. There’s really no reason we should be so judgmental toward others or embarrassed about our own desires either. Everybody’s ‘doing it’, one way or another. Even the birds and the bees.
