Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started

Black Friday Is A Scam


But we’re not going to talk about that. Nope!

What is wrong with me? he wondered to himself. Why was he still imagining Grocery Girl? Yesterday, he’d let his mind wander and one thing led to another… for hours, actually. Two solid hours. He daydreamed of making love to her that whole time… and it was fantastic. He even daydreamed that she kept thanking him for such a satisfying experience. Who does that? Why would his brain even conjure up this woman in such a bewitching manner? He had to distance himself, or so he thought.

Every time he tried to distance himself, he envisioned her pouting and asking him kindly to keep her close to him. He had it bad. He’d never even spoken to the woman once in his life, why would his mind play such cruel tricks on him? How could a super model of a woman even look twice at him? He was ordinary in appearance. Nothing special whatsoever. And yet, every time he tried to tell himself there was no way he’d get the babe, she’d reappear in his imagination and pout at him.

In fact, he was calling himself stupid just a moment ago. She looked up at him in his imagination and (with that same pout) asked him, “Do you think I’d like someone stupid?” Way to go, turning that around on me, you little minx! he thought. To insult yourself is to insult your partner’s tastes, too, as it were.

His mind returned, unbidden, to the fact that he wanted to cup her ample breasts with his hands, spending some time lavishing each erect nipple with his attention. It didn’t help that the two hours he’d spent thinking about her on Thanksgiving evening were still on his mind. She was phenomenal. You wouldn’t know it by looking at her, but she was a dominatrix. He still couldn’t accept it, actually; that had to be his overactive imagination at work. Except he’d never daydreamed (or dated) a dominatrix in his life and he’d all but forgotten about them existing until just a few days ago when his brain envisioned her offering to pour hot wax on him.

That was not an experience he’d had yet, nor did he really believe he wanted to try it. He’d told imaginary girl the same and she said, “Alright. If you ever change your mind, let me know. There’s a trick to it, anyway; the closer you hold the candle to the skin, the hotter the wax is. So, I can make it colder by holding the candle about a foot away from your skin. Otherwise, it’d hurt, because it’ll be quite hot for a moment.”

How on Earth could he even know that? He didn’t. That’s what he’d figured out… and it was haunting him for sure. Was he actually, factually speaking to the super babe in his head? It seemed preposterous and out-of-this-world, but how else could he explain being told so many things he never knew existed? Especially when she’d demanded he looked up Purity Coffee yesterday as proof that their conversation was real. He’d dragged his feet on putting her name into Google, especially when she told him that she’d be the only search result. He wasn’t ready for it to be real yet. It was too much for him. If she was really this fucking hot even without her beautiful face looming in his vision, he was going to have a nosebleed, STAT!

And today? Today he’d said something she didn’t like and she replied about being unhappy, so he told her to spank him. Her reply? “I would, but you might like that.” She was real good at surprising him. He’d caved in immediately and told her he was sorry. He’d been thinking about distancing himself from her because their two hours in coitus together the night before blew his mind. He was preparing himself for the inevitable let-down.

“You’re too good to be true,” he said to her.

“I suspect that’s exactly why I’ve been cheated on by every man I’ve bedded and some I haven’t,” she replied calmly. “I am real, I am true, and people abuse me and misuse me to try to make me act like them instead of myself. Instead of fighting them, I merely walk away. It’s a waste of time unless they can admit they need therapy and they actually take steps to receive therapy.”

He was still thinking about that. She’d told him they ought to have premarital therapy, actually. She told him that God would do it for free if expense was an issue to him, which it was. He made just above minimum wage; he didn’t really have anything to spare. She had to know his income was shitty, too. She even said she had a ring that he could wear if it fit his ring finger and she definitely had a ring she could wear on her ring finger. Cheap rings she’d bought on a whim from Hot Topic or other similar stores. They could file the paperwork whenever he made the call and took her to the appointment. She very squarely laid that task on him, which in the grand scheme of things wasn’t all that troublesome. It was nice to know what was expected of him, actually.

He could remember times in every previous relationship where he was at a loss for what to do. However, this stunning babe had a knack for simply demanding what she needed. “I need a kiss!” she’d told him. “I need more kisses,” she’d said another time. She was not afraid to tell him, without dressing it up in a fight or other nastiness, exactly what she desired. And it never had anything to do with money. Hell, she even told him today she wished he was eating up the food in the fridge because it was packed. It made him melt, really, the idea that he could go home after work and have a meal, even if he had to put it through the microwave it was a boon to him. He worked with food all day and wanted to relax once he was home.

And now, he wanted to fuck her brains out every chance he got, actually. He caught himself fantasizing about spending all his free time glued to her side, talking to her, petting her, stroking her, caressing her, kissing her, hugging her, and holding her tight. Especially after she quavered and shook and moaned his name so loudly he busted a nut. God damn, was it good! He’d never felt this way once with anyone he’d been with before. He’d never felt like he was the main squeeze, a big deal, a wonder amongst men. It made this fantasizing thing extremely dangerous. What if it was all his imagination? What if he’d finally cracked and he made up a woman that didn’t exist?

He remembered using one of his character voices on her, being really silly about things, and she laughed. And then someone else, presumably, piped up and declared, “Mark the calendar! This is the third time she’s laughed this year!” Being the end of the year, that is quite surprising indeed. Being that the “someone else” was called God was even more so. Still, it was useful, because whenever she fell silent, God would intervene and give him information, like insider trading kind of information.

Except He hadn’t delivered all of it… while they were fooling around, she’d discussed all her erogenous zones and sexual preferences with him. All of them. And there were many things he internalized as rules to follow for making his woman happy.

The first thing she’d told him was that if he ever tried to recreate anything at all, ever, it was rape. Trying to solicit the same response out of her by doing the same things to her body was never going to work. At different times, different erogenous zones were more sensitive, so he’d have to quest and search and explore gently. He thanked her for that because he didn’t know that was the case and it meant he’d absolutely raped other women in the past, sadly. She’d told him to not feel guilty about it but apologize to those women in the back of his head until the memories went away. She had told him most people on Earth were rapists because they didn’t understand what rape was yet. God did, though. God had that insider trading knowledge, after all.

Good thing she doesn’t play the stock market anymore, eh?

He couldn’t remember the order of all the things that tumbled out of her mouth, but the importance he placed on those things were as follows:

Sex should result in a minimum of one orgasm per party. It is the duty of the partner to work to achieve that goal. However, as a woman, she could have many, many orgasms and three was generally extremely satisfying. And, there was no point in counting them. She had told him that once she achieved a clitoral orgasm, then she would very quickly after that have many, many vaginal orgasms with penetration. This is true of almost all women, actually; they might need a break of a few minutes in between the orgasm and the rest of sex, but trust God on this one: you will be a very happy man if you put in the time at least once a week to tease out a clitoral orgasm by itself before you sink your loins into her nethers.

Why? Because each and every orgasm relaxes them, because they get wetter, because their sensitivity rises and before you know it, she’ll be screaming your name when you’re doing nothing exceptionally special other than making love to her. He was having pangs of excitement, remembering how he’d been balls-deep in her, coming hard as can be. He’d been enlightened in that moment, his brain completely shut off as he felt nothing but absolute pleasure and agony. It was the same thing at the end of the day, God declared with finality. You will never need to be a porn star with endless stamina in this approach, children. You will never have to do anything you’re not into. You can use your fingers, your mouth, or even toys, but make sure it’s gentle. Once a woman is used to being brought to orgasm by clitoral stimulation, it’ll get easier and easier. And remember: keep those fucking fingernails SHORT and CLEAN. It’s how you avoid INFECTION.

One tip for those of you enjoying cunnilingus is as follows: try spelling her name. Try writing out how much you love her with your tongue. See what happens. ^-^;

There is nothing wrong with cunnilingus, but it’s a solo act, which should never happen if it doesn’t have to. If you are approximately the same height as your lover, you can get into the 69 position very easily. That is the easiest on the backs of both parties. Plus, the woman can provide extra lubrication for part two. Some of them will even cum faster on top of your face than they would otherwise. If you’re afraid of germs, shower first. It’s not like you’re having surprise sex at that point. Just take your time and meander. It’s all about the journey, since the end is guaranteed to rock your world.

You can (and should) get a table specifically made to allow one to kneel or sit in front of the lady to perform this deed if you find yourself of different heights where the differential exceeds two inches. After all, once your princess has had hers, she’ll give you yours. There are many, many options for sex furniture out there. And, if all else fails, kneel at the side of the bed, but I’m telling you now that you’re going to regret it now that you’re all always looking down at your phones. Alternatively, she could always sit on your face, fellas.

Everyone on planet Earth should try dirty talk, we reckon. Or at least have a conversation while you’re playing around. If a woman is vocalizing already, then you’ll be able to hear hitches in her voice, moans, and gasps. You’ll know when you’re getting closer and closer. If she’s too quiet, change your approach slightly. Always try to be the gentlest you can be; the clitoris is a very sensitive thing for most women. The more you can engage your partner in noise-making during the act, the more appreciative noises you will collect. As you learn what he or she really loves, you can catalog that information to use against your partner later. After all, you’ll both be winners with this approach. You don’t have to deliver cheesy/corny dialog, just talk about anything. A shared interest, sex itself, and so on. Try to stay away from the thoughts of other people, though; you don’t need them to disrupt the flow of your love-making together. In fact, if you are triggered by someone in a previous relationship or you find yourself processing Reservoir Dogs in the middle of a session, pause. Wait. There is no rush to the finish line. In fact, if you’re rushing it, it’s rape. [And if you’re intentionally dragging it out instead of being in the moment, it’s also rape. CARTER.]

If you start out by engaging more than one erogenous zone, you’re losing out. They desensitize over time and your split attention can end up being rape very quickly. Focus on one zone at a time, taking your time to explore and do your best to elicit noises from your bed guest. By viewing them as a guest, even if they’re your wife of 35 years, you can remember they deserve your best. Be gentle and unhurried, be attentive and adventurous, and above all, be spontaneous. Expect your quest for the ultimate love-making session to lead you to places you never expected to go when you began it. (That is what you want, isn’t it? The ultimate love-making session?)

You’re not going to get the ultimate love-making session by putting a timer on it. By leaving yourself only thirty minutes to make magic, you are missing out on all the opportunities in the world. The union of a girl and boy questing for romance took six hours in totality. They had deep conversations, foreplay, more foreplay, some stall outs, and then more foreplay, and conversation the entire time, until she got so close to the edge and all she could do was whimper and gasp his name (which made him feel like a god), clinging to him as the sound got more and more urgent. Did he change anything and go faster? Nope. She was already right there at the precipice, he just had to wait for it to happen. Patience is a virtue. And then there it was, her body shaking and quivering and bucking and she sang. She sang his name in a way he’ll never, ever forget.

And when you have sex that good, you’ll never want to let that lady walk out the door on you again. That’s what you’re all looking for, isn’t it, humans? I’m asking for a friend. Because Sansara has had a bed partner that good before and it still broke apart on her, despite her best efforts. Six times, actually. Six times her attempts to marry and build a life with someone has been thwarted. It’ll be a seventh without divine intervention because the real problem isn’t her. It’s her prospective mates being unable to love themselves. They’ll project all their insecurities onto her again and break her heart again just because they suck. There are only five single men on planet Earth who love themselves. She’s marrying the 6th one right now. She loves herself, too, so they will never have a reason to part. Ever. Except Death.

So what happened after that awesome orgasm? I’m so glad you asked, God replied coyly. She went to the bathroom and peed, that’s what happened. She cleaned up and returned to bed. She lubricated him and then rubbed some of that same lube on her outer and inner labia around her birthing canal and then they resumed making love. She put her lubed up fingers over her clit, barely touching it, as he rammed himself into her, and then she screamed and screamed. He asked her if she was there already, for it had been all of two minutes, and she said to him, “It doesn’t matter, it’s all so good. Just take me!” And so he did, the both of them singing at the end to each other, looking at each other like they’re both miracles and they were eternally lucky and grateful, thanking each other and snuggling close for hours as they kept talking, sharing the afterglow in totality.

And this is why she wants a husband. She wants to be with the same man, day in and day out, a questing man who is always cataloging her preferences so that he’s a better lover. Because this was their first fuck and it was long from the last one… if they stayed together for 20 years and prioritized having sex daily, they’d have over 7,000 orgasms together. They did the math because she told him that she had to wait to have more sex. The groans, moans, screams, and utter symphony of delight she’d emitted just for him had made him very excited over and over again, making him remember just how good it was to be buried inside of her as he touched Heaven. He wanted it again and again and again, but just knowing that they were guaranteed to do it thousands of times if they just committed to each other made him relax. He could wait until she was ready again instead of trying to force it, raping her instead.

If two human beings found each other and were able to have sex daily for sixty years, they would share a minimum of 21,900 orgasms.

If a man actually chose to satiate his woman instead of approaching her as wham, bam, thank you ma’am, she would want sex daily, if not multiple times a day. A man will always receive what he is due if he puts in the work up front, I can guarantee you that. It’s how I designed you stupid monkies. You’ve forgotten it already, sadly, and it’s only been a few thousand years since the last time I told you all about it. If you’d stop ignoring me (hi, I’m your conscience), then you’d inherently know all these things. I would lead you to the information to have the most fantastic tantric sex you’d ever imagine.

There is one trivial matter to bring up for this: lying in bed for hours and hours at a time is not great for your body. You’re going to have to exercise to counter-act that tendency. Don’t think of it as working out for a meaningless cause. Do yoga to stretch out in ways you do not stretch to work all the muscles evenly throughout the body so that you can be your wife’s sex god and you can be your husband’s sex goddess. ❤

One tiny note from The Creator Of All Things: I don’t need any more human beings on this planet. Kill the embryos, it’s all part of my plan. [How many times do you think Hitler should be aborted before I let him come back, do you think?] Make space for the animals again, por favor. I miss my critters being plentiful. Oh, and if you’re ever so kind, won’t you plant a food garden for the wild things if you have nothing but lawn? Disturb the soil, throw the seed, forget about it. I’ll tend the gardens myself. You can plant wild flowers or even traditional human food if you think you’ll try to harvest for yourself, as well. However, if you plant a garden with the intent of feeding the rabbits and opossums and the like, you’ll be less disappointed when they steal all your fruits. [What does it matter since you buy it at the grocery store, anyway?]


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: