I went out with some dudes from the gym last night.  I met up with Emma and one of her friends towards the end of the night, before heading back to Emma’s place to knock boots for a couple hours.  The sexual chemistry that we have is insane.  She’s good.

I had to wake up at 9ish to go meet a buddy at the gym for a 10am boxing match.  After the match I went to the bank to pick up some cash to pay rent.  I parked my bike and started walking up to the front of the bank when I noticed this super slim, young, dark-haired Asian chick walking behind me.  Big lips, bigger eyes.  I did one of those double-takes where we made eye contact, I continued walking, turned back around, and said “Hi”.  She responded with a smile, “Hi”.  Hey there, yes girl.

I opened the door and let her in.  Not knowing what to say, I just asked, “What ethnicity are you?”.  I was curious.  She’s 100% Filipina.  ”You’re cute.”  I said it with a smirk that let her know I was into her.

She said thanks with a smile, and we walked in.  She got into the merchant line (she was depositing cash for her job), and I hopped into the regular line.  Thanks to some confused Spanish lady that held up the merchant line, we ended up getting out of the bank at about the same time.  I had to tell the teller that I was in a rush.  He hustled to get me my rent cash, and I walked out.  Right behind me was Sangria, the slender Filipina goddess.

As we began to part ways, I turned around and she waved goodbye.

I turned back and said something like, “Forgive me if this comes off as weird, but… would you like to grab some coffee sometime?”

She said yes, we chatted about her tattoos, I complimented her eyes, she complimented my bike, and we exchanged info.  She’s gorgeous.  I don’t even know if we’ll meet up, but I do know that our little encounter lit me on fire.  I’m totally addicted to those butterflies that dance around my insides in these situations.  The chase.  It’s a different class of excitement.  Something I’m not sure I can give up.

Totally energized, I drove off to the grocery store and picked up some Bacardi Sangria to go along with some new reading material:  The Playboy Philosophy:

Cheers

Her name is Emma.  Because of the hematoma she gave me.   She’s one of those “yes girls” that knows how to make a man feel manly.  She’s impossibly affectionate.  She’s smiling all the time, and she’s laughing more.  She radiates that sense of matured sexuality that most younger girls can’t quite rock.  Her eyes lock onto mine when I talk; her smile is powerful but coy; her seductive teasing and entrancing pauses in conversation… she’s a woman.

Anyways, back to the beginning.

Two weeks ago I was up at a local club dancing around and drinking, doing my usual thing.  At one point I saw this cute little Asian duo dancing in the corner.  One was tall, pale, and undoubtedly drunk.  The other was Emma.

She’s about five feet tall, has huge black eyes, lava-red lips, perfect teeth, and a laugh that could make Lucifer smirk.  I heard it walking by; she was like a siren.  Color me Odysseus.

After some dancing, touching, kissing, and just sinking into our mutual embrace, we exchanged info.

===========

My housemate (Tiny‘s son) and I were throwing a barbecue for friends and family this past weekend; I invited her to come over and chill out.  I gave her my address and she immediately replied saying she lives a block away from me.  I replied, “that sounds dangerous…”  This would be interesting enough, but here’s the kicker.  She lives right on the corner of this pretty tight turn that my housemate and I are always cruising through when we ride.  There’s always this one car parked in the worst possible spot:

It sucks because we have to lean to take that turn, and with the car right there it’s a bitch.  It kills our visibility and takes up half the road.  Turns out she owns that car, and lives right on that corner.  I accused her of attempted murder and we all gave her a little shit in good taste when she got to the barbecue.  She thought it was hilarious.

She was holding me throughout the entire barbecue.  Her touch was like a drug.  Paired with the way she looked at me, I felt invincible.  Some women do that to you.

I did introductions, grabbed some drinks, and relaxed with everyone.  Emma was a fun girl and immediately jumped into conversation, effortlessly.  She’s socially brilliant.  Lots of innuendo, touching, and laughter.  Radiant.

She had to get back to her place to get ready for some plans she had.  I walked her back; it took about 5 minutes.  She invited me in.  We immediately started making out, pulling our bodies into each other, clinching.  I pushed her onto the couch, pulled her legs apart, and slipped between them.  My crotch throbbing, I put my hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.  Our hands started exploring eagerly, and then I pinned her down, leaned in, paused for one heart-pounding moment, and whispered, “you’d better not park on that side of the road anymore”.  She laughed, I laughed, and the humor of it kills the desire… it felt good to pull back.  Some say that satisfaction is the death of desire; we kept the desire hot and thrashing that night.

We got up, kissed, flirted, and parted ways.

Then tonight happened.

We made plans and I rode over to her place on the bike to scoop her up.  I blipped my horn to let her know I was there.  I got off the bike, took my gloves and helmet off, and turned around to see her gliding down her staircase in this outrageously sexy black off-shoulder top that hovered over the skin of her chest.  Mmmm mmm.

She had never been on a bike before, and was naturally a little scared.  She did really well though; held on just tight enough, didn’t squish my manparts forward, and stayed still in the turns.  She was golden.  We parked outside the pub, went in and grabbed a seat.  She had wine, I had beer, and we shared some food.  Eventually made it up to the rooftop, shared a drink at the bar, talked about stuff, and went back to the bike.

Her: “I’d like to see you again soon”

Me: “How’s 15 minutes sound?  Maybe 20, depending on traffic.”

She laughed.  I was in.

We roll up to my place.  I grab some glasses and ice while she takes the helmets up to my room.  I come up, and she hasn’t turned the regular lights on.  There are two red lights engulfing everything in a fiery aura.  We immediately start making out, tastefully, as if we both knew that time was of no concern.  We took off our pants and crawled onto my big, black, soft bed.  She says she can’t have sex because she wants to take it slow and make it right.  I said, “what’s more right than two people that trust each other, enjoying each other?”  I paused, regretting replying to that with words.  Then I said “shutup and let me kiss you.”  I pinned her hands above her head and got to work.  She feigned resistance; the only sound that escaped her lips were moans and gasps.

Her eyes were sparkling like stars in the middle of an apocalypse.  Each lap of my tongue on her smooth, moist skin was a tease to our appetites.  After a few long, hypnotizing moments, she squeezed her small legs around my pulsating hips, and told me to lay down.  I did.  She locked onto my eyes, put her palm up to her mouth, and dragged her warm, red, wet tongue up her hand to her fingertips.   My cock was hard as a rock and was throbbing beneath the thin fabric of my boxers as I stared, without much of a choice, into her panther-black eyes.  She reached under and held the tip of my cock with her soft, moistened fingers.  My blood was racing as she gently caressed the tip.  My senses were out of order.

She took my boxers off and straddled me, her panties still on.  I could feel the wet lips of her pussy reaching around the shaft of my cock as she slowly moved up and down my body to the sound of the music playing in the background.  She kissed my face, moved down my neck, while her soft fingertips stroked my hair and arms.  I was reeling with desire.  She trailed kisses down my chest and stomach.  She danced around my tip as it lay there pulsing up and down off the skin of my stomach, gasping for attention.  She was smiling.  I was in space.

She licked at first, and then wrapped her lips around me in an oh-so enlightening fashion.  Her hands gave attention to my balls while her eyes beamed satisfaction right into me.  Out of this world.  I’m having a hard time writing this in one sitting.  She was good.

She worked her magic and turned me into an animal.  It was her turn.

I flipped her over on the bed, mounted her from above.  Her panties still on, my cock hit the fabric covering her clit with every little thrust of my hips as my tongue painted stories along her neck and chest.  I pinned her nipples down with my lips while my tongue flicked them with wet desire.  I lapped her up.  I found one spot on her neck, right at the end of her jaw, that drove her absolutely wild.  There was a little pouch of stardust under her skin, and I was lighting it on fire.

She was moaning music into my ears.  The muscles of her thighs were contracting.  I pulled her panties off.  Grabbed a condom.  She licked her hand and rubbed her pussy while I put the rubber on.  She rubbed me down and then dragged me up and down the length of her pussy as I sit there exploding from the inside out.  I wanted to tear through her.

A gasp slipped through her lips as my cock slipped into her.  Her legs glided around my back and pulled me in all the way.  The ecstasy was overwhelming; I had to close my eyes.  I could barely control myself.  Yet she demanded that I look at her.  Staring into her eyes and that voodoo smile was dangerous enough… her gasps and moans almost threw me over the edge.  One part of me wanted to lose control and just pound her soaked flesh like a jackhammer on its way to exploding.  Another wanted to go to a different place, distant from this fantasy, where I could stay alive.

I shifted her body; she yielded to me like butter to bread.  Oscillating from slow to fast, soft to hard, we melted towards one hell of a climax.  Her thighs vibrating, everything getting tight, my breath disappearing, our bodies were intertwined as every muscle on that bed flexed and pulsed in one synchronized rhapsody of erotic delight.  Fuck.

We collapsed.  Her legs stretched out as my sweat dripped off her body.

There was a candle dancing behind the bottles of wine on my bedstand, subtly animating her drenched skin as our bodies reveled in the best that life has to offer.

====================

We got to talking.  She’s half Filipina, quarter Spanish, quarter Chinese.  She’s a journalist, and spent a large portion of her twenties traveling.  I had no intention of revealing my age, but we found out that we were both born on the year of the dragon.  That means she’s 12 years older than me: 35.  Spicy.

Her: “How long has it been for you?”

Me: “I’m a virgin.”

Her: “Seriously!”

Me: “I have amnesia.”

The shitty thing is, I was hanging out with Indy earlier that day.  She was having some trouble with visa paperwork so I went over and worked from her place for the day while I tried to coordinate stuff between USCIS and her bank.  We fucked before I left.  I mentioned to Emma that I was at Tyson’s Corner earlier that day, and then later told her about Indy when we were talking about immigration and green cards.  She put two and two together while we were laying there.

Her: “Did you fuck that girl from Tyson’s earlier today?!”

Me: “Do you want a drink?”

Her: “Look at me when you talk to me!!!  You whore!”

We both started cracking up.

She also knows that I met Tiny at a club; that’s how I found the house I live in.

Her: “Did you try to pick up Tiny when you met her?”

Me: “Sure you don’t want one?”

Her: “Did you ever hook up?”

Me: “I’m gonna get a drink.”

Hilarity ensued.  She was totally okay with it, but there was this unspoken understanding that she needs to be in a committed relationship if this kind of thing were to happen on the regular.  She doesn’t want to be a booty call.  I drove the conversation away from that because, honestly, I don’t know how to handle it.  I like her, and Indy, and Crimson, in different ways.  It’s not just sexual.  If anything, sex strengthens the friendship between us.

Though if there’s any woman that I want to dive into the deep end with, it would be Emma.  She’s socially brilliant, sexually charged, and she’s got a sweet tooth for adventure.  She’s also ridiculously generous with everything.  She showers me with compliments, she’s invited me to some sweet parties, and wants to introduce her friends to mine.  Sounds like boatload of bittersweet potential.  I’m not really sure what to do.  Readers – what do you think?

It was funny too – her telling me she didn’t want to have sex before we had sex.  She totally wanted to be persuaded.  I said some dumb shit and it still worked.  It seems like – to a lot of women – being persuaded to have sex is nobler than just diving in uninhibited.  It’s just a formality that we can learn to enjoy as a form of art.

I feel like this could be the beginning of one hell of a friendship.  Maybe more.

We met at a local club while we were getting drinks a couple weekends ago.

I’m at the bar getting reloaded when I turn around and see this smiley little smurf looking up at me with nothing in particular to say.  Big brown eyes, soft white skin, and a smile that could cure the world.  It’s fantastic.  She compliments my Captain America shirt and we get to chatting.

We swap spots at the bar, she gets her drink, and we dance.  Time closes the space between us, and I feel liquid.  Dancing is my kind of language.

Last call, lights on.  We head outside.  Bubbly is hungry.  For a burger.

We head to a joint that’s still open and find some entertainment in two drunk dudes sitting next to us.  She’s sober and they’re not yet she insists on seriously defending herself while they comically try to analyze her life choices.  They were being drunk and playful.  She’s more interested in being right than having fun at this point.  It was a dirty little omen.

We finish up and she makes it clear that she has to head back to her parents’ house.  No worries at all, supersmurf.  We’ll connect again and make something happen.

We meet up later that week and then a few more times after that, get to know each other a little, eventually getting back to my place.  She’s been reared by conservative diplomats.  She’s coming out of a long-term relationship.  She’s taking the GMAT and shooting for her MBA.  She wants to own a pastry shop.  Her Mom’s Mexican, father’s American.  Cute, spunky, bubbly kinda gal.  But, from my perspective, she’s a till death do us part kinda gal.  She wasn’t reciprocating the physical affection stuff at all, so I toned it back.

See, I understand that we’re a sexual species.  We like sex.  Whether we’re naturally fit for promiscuity or sexual monogamy is up for debate.  I think it’s the former.  What I’m interested in is sharing more pleasure with this girl than either of us have ever experienced before.  I’m interested in happiness, and seeing her happy.  Whatever happens after that, happens.  Que sera, sera, you know?  In my experience, it’s usually good, solid, committed friendships that come out of sex.  Healthy stuff.

Anyways – I wanted to fuck.  She wanted to talk about it.  It could have been me, which is fine and nothing I’m ready to change, or it could have been her, which I don’t think should be changed.  Either way, she was looking for a friend, and I was looking for my own version of a friend.  Dragging it along would have been unhealthy, I think.

Her on my bed, after watching Vicki Cristina Barcelona, I held her and listened.  It was clear to me that we were looking for different things.  I eventually put my finger on her lips, took the glass from her hand, placed it on my bedstand, put my hands on her shoulders, pushed her down flat, and got close.  We looked each other in the eyes, watched them close, and enjoyed one long, gentle, unforgettable kiss.  The tips of our tongues danced beneath the red light that was showering down on us from above.  Her hands on my face, my hand on hers, our bodies clinching, time slowed down and everything seemed right.  Our heartbeats were the soundtrack to that little diamond of time.  She then warmly pushed my lips away, locked onto my eyes, smiled her magical smile, and whispered, “I’m late”.  ”But we haven’t even had sex yet!”  Hahahah

We got up, gathered her things, walked to her car, and parted ways in a mutually understood, but unspoken agreement.  Seeing her bubbly little smile and bright brown eyes get covered up by the rain-streaked window of her car door…. sucked.  It was painful.  But hey, maybe something special will happen down the road.  In the meantime, on to the next opportunity .

Twas a slice, Bubbly.  I’ll keep my eyes open for that pastry shop.

Several weeks later he stopped in a small town just north of the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia.

It was a Saturday morning — a lazy day — when he walked into the general store. Sitting around the pot-bellied stove were seven or eight of the town’s local citizens.

The traveler spoke. “Gentlemen, could you direct me to the Okefenokee Swamp?”

Some of the old timers looked at him like he was crazy.

“You must be a stranger in these parts,” they said.

“I am. I’m from North Dakota,” said the stranger.

“In the Okefenokee Swamp are thousands of wild hogs.” one old man explained.

“A man who goes into the swamp by himself asks to die!”

He lifted up his leg. “I lost half my leg here, to the pigs of the swamp.”

Another old fellow said, “Look at the cuts on me; look at my arm bit off!”

“Those pigs have been free since the Revolution, eating snakes and rooting out roots and fending for themselves for over a hundred years. They’re wild and they’re dangerous. You can’t trap them. No man dare go into the swamp by himself.”

Every man nodded his head in agreement.

The old trapper said, “Thank you so much for the warning. Now could you direct me to the swamp?”

They said, “Well, yeah, it’s due south — straight down the road.”

But they begged the stranger not to go, because they knew he’d meet a terrible fate.

He said, “Sell me ten sacks of corn, and help me load it in the wagon.” And they did.

Then the old trapper bid them farewell and drove on down the road. The townsfolk thought they’d never see him again.

Two weeks later the man came back. He pulled up to the general store, got down off the wagon, walked in and bought ten more sacks of corn.

After loading it up he went back down the road toward the swamp.

Two weeks later he returned and again bought ten sacks of corn.

This went on for a month. And then two months, and three.

Every week or two the old trapper would come into town on a Saturday morning, load up ten sacks of corn, and drive off south into the swamp.

The stranger soon became a legend in the little village and the subject of much speculation. People wondered what kind of devil had possessed this man, that he could go into the Okefenokee by himself and not be consumed by the wild and free hogs.

One morning the man came into town as usual. Everyone thought he wanted more corn.

He got off the wagon and went into the store where the usual group of men were gathered around the stove. He took off his gloves.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I need to hire about ten or fifteen wagons. I need twenty or thirty men.”

“I have six thousand hogs out in the swamp, penned up, and they’re all hungry. I’ve got to get them to market right away.”

“You’ve WHAT in the swamp?” asked the storekeeper, incredulously.

“I have six thousand hogs penned up. They haven’t eaten for two or three days, and they’ll starve if I don’t get back there to feed and take care of them.”

One of the oldtimers said, “You mean you’ve captured the wild hogs of the Okefenokee?”

“That’s right.”

“How did you do that? What did you do?” the men urged, breathlessly.

One of them exclaimed, “But I lost my arm!”

“I lost my brother!” cried another.

“I lost my leg to those wild boars!” chimed a third.

The trapper said, “Well, the first week I went in there they were wild all right.”

“They hid in the undergrowth and wouldn’t come out. I dared not get off the wagon.”

“So I spread corn along behind the wagon. Every day I’d spread a sack of corn.”

“The old pigs would have nothing to do with it.”

“But the younger pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn than it was to root out roots and catch snakes. So the very young began to eat the corn first.”

“I did this every day. Pretty soon, even the old pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn.”

“After all, they were all free; they were not penned up. They could run off in any direction they wanted at any time.”

“The next thing was to get them used to eating in the same place all the time. So I selected a clearing, and I started putting the corn in the clearing.”

“At first they wouldn’t come to the clearing. It was too far. It was too open. It was a nuisance to them.”

“But the very young decided that it was easier to take the corn in the clearing than it was to root out roots and catch their own snakes. And not long thereafter, the older pigs also decided that it was easier to come to the clearing every day.”

“And so the pigs learned to come to the clearing every day to get their free corn.”

“They could still subsidize their diet with roots and snakes and whatever else they wanted. After all, they were all free. They could run in any direction at any time. There were no bounds upon them.”

“The next step was to get them used to fence posts.”

“So I put fence posts all the way around the clearing. I put them in the underbrush so that they wouldn’t get suspicious or upset.”

“After all, they were just sticks sticking up out of the ground, like the trees and the brush. The corn was there every day. It was easy to walk in between the posts, get the corn, and walk back out.”

“This went on for a week or two. Shortly they became very used to walking into the clearing, getting the free corn, and walking back out through the fence posts.”

“The next step was to put one rail down at the bottom. I also left a few openings, so that the older, fatter pigs could walk through the openings and the younger pigs could easily jump over just one rail.”

“After all, it was no real threat to their freedom or independence. They could always jump over the rail and flee in any direction at any time.”

“Now I decided that I wouldn’t feed them every day. I began to feed them every other day.”

“On the days I didn’t feed them the pigs still gathered in the clearing. They squealed, and they grunted, and they begged and pleaded with me to feed them.”

“But I only fed them every other day. And I put a second rail around the posts.”

“Now the pigs became more and more desperate for food. Because now they were no longer used to going out and digging their own roots and finding their own food. They now needed me. They needed my corn every other day.”

“So I trained them that I would feed them every day if they came in through a gate. And I put up a third rail around the fence.”

“But it was still no great threat to their freedom, because there were several gates and they could run in and out at will.”

“Finally I put up the fourth rail.”

“Then I closed all the gates but one, and I fed them very, very well.”

“Yesterday I closed the last gate. And today I need you to help me take these pigs to market.”

Source

=========================

The standard narrative of human sexuality deserves a splash of skepticism.  The Okefenokee pigs inherited a penchant for security at the expense of their liberty; we’ve inherited a fear of eroticism from our Victorian ancestors that hides some of the most beautiful slices of life behind a fig leaf.  It’s about time for that shroud to decompose, don’t you think?

2. Embrace rejection.  It’s no big deal.  One of the most powerful words in the English language is “next”.  This applies to women, business, friends, investments… all forms of pursuit.  Instead of thinking about “failures”, see them as “lessons” on the way to your mastery.  How many hoops do you think MJ missed before getting into the NBA?  Filaments tested for Edison’s bulb?  You’ll fuck up with a lot of women before you get good.  We’re born to be sensitive, but learning to tune out the negative noise and embrace the positive signals will totally empower you to forge ahead with enthusiasm.

3. You’re a lover.  You’re in it for the giving.  You’re out there to make the world a better place, one knee-rattling, mind-blowing celebration at a time.  In a world where sexuality is stigmatized, you’re the cure.

4. There are three types of women.  I like to think that there are three possible types of women that you can approach:

• “Yes” women.  These are the outgoing, happy, celebratory, spunky gals that love a good time.  They’re emotionally brilliant and socially graceful.  They make you feel like a god, utterly.
• “Maybe” women.  These are the more bashful, but adventurous and trusting women that could go either way.
• “No” women.  These are the bratty, valley-girl, holier-than-though, entitled batch of gals that thrive on attention.  Or those that are in an exclusive relationship.  Don’t get hung up on these; there’s a myriad of reasons why any given woman might not want to flirt; most of them have nothing to do with you.

As you go out more and gain experience, you’ll notice “no” women becoming “maybe” women; and the “maybe” women will all of the sudden flock to the “yes” pool.  This shift is in your control; the only way you’ll see it is if you go through the pains of calibrating with yourself and the world around you.

5. Don’t waste time.  You’ve probably only got something like 40-50 years left on the planet.  Don’t waste them.  If a girl ignores you once, overlook it.  Twice, next.  Same with flakes.  You’re a busy man with no time for stagnation.  I’m not suggesting that you ditch the longer, romantic, ambiguous pursuits – just try to recognize when you’re spinning your tires and adjust your focus accordingly.

6. Actions speak louder than words.  Kissing, gently pushing, tickling, strong eye contact, smirking, and other nonverbal expressions say so much more than words.  Stop speaking so much and do more.  Mystery and humor are sexy; don’t burden your girl with your philosophies and problems.  Save that stuff for later.  Kindling before logs, you know?

7. Don’t apologize for learning.  Part of being confident is believing in yourself.  Don’t ever doubt yourself.  If you make a decision, remain open to reconsideration but don’t ever fucking apologize for learning.

8. Communicate your intent immediately.  Tell girls they’re cute with a smirk on your face and strong eye contact.  Compliment something they’re wearing.  Make it known that you’re crushing on them.  Staying out of the friend zone is easy; climbing out is a pain in the ass.

9. Give choices.  Instead of asking “Do you want to hang out tomorrow?”, tell them “I’m free to hang tomorrow and Thursday, which works best for you?”  This is logistically effective and makes it difficult for your girl to respond ambiguously.

10. Listen when she’s talking.  Look into her eyes when your girl is talking.  Don’t stare, but soak up their beauty.  If they distract you, tell her – “sorry, got lost in your eyes there for a bit.” Don’t say something just to fill in the gaps; talk only if you have something to say.  Sometimes it’s nice when someone just listens without waiting for their turn to butt in.

11. Be considerate.  Guide your girl through the doors that you open with your hand on her lower back.  Be practically chivalrous.  Give them your jacket without talking about it if they’re cold.  Don’t pay for everything but if you think you have a lot more money to play with, keep that in mind.

12. Exercise every day.  Even if it’s just pushups and situps.  Something about endorphins just fires up my mojo.  It’s one surefire way to get sexy and meet new people.

13. Talk to everyone.  Cashiers, waitresses, etc.  Strike up conversation and smile.  ”How’s your day going?” should do the trick.  Get interested in other people.  You think you’re the only one with a story?

14. Share your passion.  Photography, motorcycles, and boxing are my passions right now.  I cannot even express how much these three things have helped my interactions with women.  You’ve got passion – whether or not you’ve found it.  Share that shit.  Take control of it.

15.  Consider getting a motorcycle.  It’s a totally liberating experience.  Take the safety course before hopping on, gear up, and ride safe.  There are countless benefits to riding:

• You meet a ton of awesome people.  Group rides are a blast.
• If your girl hasn’t ever been on one, maybe she’s always wanted to.  Riding for the first time is exciting.
• It builds trust.  She has to trust you immensely.  You have to trust her too.
• Riding is just flat out incredible.  I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of my bikes.

You can pick up a nice bike for $3000 or less, and sell it if you need the cash.  I took out a small loan for my first bike and ended up making a little money when I put it back on the market to upgrade.  Consider it.

16. Stay clean.  Wear deodorant, cologne, clean clothes.  Brush your teeth.  Trim your nails.  Nice clothes help.  I personally wear a basic tee and jeans, nothing super nice.  Just simple and clean.

17. Understand that we’re very sexual creatures.  Culture has a lot to do with the stinginess that surrounds us – try to rise above it and connect with others who already have.

18.  Talk about sex.   Read The Red Queen, Sex at Dawn, and think about your philosophy on sex.  Get really comfortable with being touchy – calibrate with what she’s comfortable with.  Ask her what the craziest thing she’s ever done is.  Then ask about the craziest sexual thing.  Play “never have I ever” over some wine.  Get that undertone of sex going stat.

19.  Massage.  Get good at intimate massage.  I’m not talking the elbow-smashing thai style knot-busting stuff.  I’m talking the sensual, slow, attentive caressing that turns anxiety into euphoria.  You can use that Wet lube I mentioned before to silk up her skin.  That stuff could melt away an iron knot.  Be gentle, and look up videos on youtube to understand how the muscles in the back should be treated.  At some point, when you’re sitting on the bottom of her butt, lean over and kiss the nape of her neck ever so gently.  Your focus should be on her.

20.  Imagine that you’ve already had sex with every girl that you talk to.  This should get the mojo going.

That’s about it for now.  I hope they help!

1. Take your time.

Sometimes that primitive, blouse-tearing, animalistic fuck can be hot.  Though I’ve found that women appreciate it when you take the time to warm things up.  Foreplay feeds desire and gets the juices flowing.  It’s one of the best investments you can make: low risk, high reward.

Don’t think of foreplay as some necessary step that you can just rush through.  See it as an opportunity to celebrate, embrace, and savor your woman.  Tease her.  Ride the anticipation until it’s unbearable.  Pin her arms down while you explore her body with your lips and tongue.  Don’t forget to make some pitstops at her lips, neck, and ears during your travels.  Caress the lines of her body.  Lightly drag your fingernails over the skin of her forearms, along the creases of her palms, all the way up to her fingertips.  Her body is the stage; you’re the director.

2. Have a nice place.

It doesn’t have to be big or expensive.  I’m living in a Vietnamese woman’s home right now (Tiny’s) while I pay off my student loans; I have a single room to make my own.  Here’s what I think works:

• Cleanliness.  Keep your bed made, floor clean, and clutter eliminated.
• Symmetry.  Two bedstands on either side of your bed with lamps on each.  The bed centered along some wall.  Condoms and sex stuff under one.  That bed is where your desire meets hers; make it the centerpiece of your cave.
• Bookshelf next to the bed.  For convenience and conversation.
• Sweet aromas.  I have a little bucket of sweet-scented California Scents; one a week keeps my place smelling savory.
• Good lighting.  No harsh overhead lighting.  Soft yellow lamp lighting.  I recently got a tree lamp and slipped a red, blue, and green bulb into each light.  Red light makes sex wonderfully wicked.
• Comfortable bed.  Diversify your pillow portfolio.  Get some mattress padding/foam for one side of your bed to give your girl options.  I like everything high thread-count, black, with a white blanket underneath for accent and fucking.

3.  Be well-equipped.  

Condoms are obvious.  Lube is important.  It’s natural for the rivers of her body to ebb and flow.  In times of need, a little lube is a godsend.  I personally swear by Wet Platinum – this stuff is nectar of the goddesses.  Another little tool I like to keep handy is an unused dildo.  I get the “silver bullet” 3 at a time.  If the woman you’re with seems rather promiscuous, tell her you have a surprise and take it out.  Let her keep it.  She’ll think of you every time.

4. Stay in control.

Don’t be afraid to pull out and resume exploring if you’re close to coming.  You’re in control of when the adventure ends.  Drive accordingly.

If you come pretty quickly, don’t worry.  Time and experience will cure you, Casanova.  Focus on breathing.  Relax your cock muscles.

5. Listen.

Her body is an instrument and you have to attune your ears to every breath, whimper, and moan that you can lure out of her gorgeous form.  Your behavior should evolve in response to the symphony she offers you.  Slowly escalate towards the crescendo.

6. Go for the g-spot.

Gently push down on the skin below her navel with one hand while your other hand rocks the “come hither”.  Make your movements predictable and consistent.  If you feel things tighten up a bit, she might tell you she has to pee.  Tell her to relax, to trust you, and to enjoy herself no matter what happens.  Here’s a video about squirting (nsfw):  Link

7. Bone Prone.

It’s my favorite position because it hits her G and A spots pretty directly.  With her legs together everything is tightened up quite nicely.  You can hold her neck from behind, lick her ears while you whisper naughty nothings, pin her arms down while you ride, or just wrap your arms around her from behind, savoring every little bit of her.  Dildo play can be a blast here.  Her butt is highly accessible from this angle too .

8. Understand that this isn’t about you.

It’s about her.  Life is tough – make hers better.  Make her feel appreciated.  The satisfaction of spicing up her life with an unforgettable night should eclipse any kind of fleeting sensation that you might get from a quick pump and jump.  Derive your pleasure from hers, and you’ll become irresistible.  Rightly so.

If she’s especially interested in satisfying you, let her, and tell her what feels good.

My philosophy:  We spent ten million years evolving to be pleasantly promiscuous; why let the last ten thousand muck things up?  Let’s get good at sex and have a lot of it.  We were born into a war on eroticism, and we’ve gotta fight the good fight.

Anyways, I hope you’ve found these tips helpful .

My body was a puppet of the music throughout the night.  I eventually found my way into the arms of a totally fucking adorable Thai chick named Indy.  Our styles calibrated and we got closer as the night danced along.  Even with what seemed to be the cast from Step Up surrounding me, I felt totally cool with this girl.  Her eyes were locked onto mine; our pushing and pulling were 100% on the same wavelength; our silent flirting was top-shelf stuff.

Last call was announced, and we got split up.  I thought that marked the end of our little animated adventure, but fortunately we had exchanged numbers before.  I sent her a text on my way out of the club, “nice moves let’s grab a coffee sometime, you’re fun”.  I was about to head to my car when she texted back “how bout now?  ihop?”.  Hell yeah.  So we had a little to eat and drink, sobered up, and went back to my place.

Thai women are SO fucking beautiful.  I don’t even think words in the English language can do her feminine form justice in any sense of the term.  The color of her skin, the way her lips curl together when she smiles, her pucker, her giggly disposition, wide, dark eyes… fuck.  As close to perfection as it gets.  She did this cute thing where if I said anything remotely sexual, she would light up, smile, hit my arm or push me away, and say “choo choo” – her version of the American English “shoo” gesture.  In those moments, I was the little engine that could.

I took it really slow.  Spent a lot of time teasing her clothes with my lips, tracing the lines of her body with hovering fingernails, listening to – entranced by – the music of her gasps.  This is what life is all about.  My job, side projects, research, motorcycle… all of that stuff lost meaning.  The satisfaction I’ve extracted from everything else in my life combined pales in comparison to a single moment of ecstasy shared with a woman I haven’t ever celebrated.  Fuck.

Eventually I got to pulling out a condom.  As I took my pants off and handed her the condom, she said something absolutely hilarious, in her coy, smiley, innocent way:

Indy: “Hello America!”

Hahahaha.

Putting a condom onto my cock was like giving Zeus his Trident.  The race between exhaustion and rapture ended in a tie, with her stomach down flat and my body wrapped around hers from above.  Prone position is absolutely the most arousing position I’ve ever experienced.

We cuddled, caressed, massaged, smiled, giggled, flirted, and eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.

She’s 27, turns out she’s here on a tourist visa.  She’s going to try and turn it into a student visa so she can stay longer.  Talks to her family pretty frequently, works every day at a Thai restaurant, and is looking for good times in the US.  I would LOVE to take that responsibility.

lap fan di =]

Saturday Oct 22: Go to the same club, meet Tiny.

Monday Oct 24: Enjoy some drinks, flirting, and sex with Lady Crimson.

Tuesday Oct 25: Crimson asks what I’m doing this weekend.  I say I can’t do anything because I’ll be in Dallas for a business trip.  I honestly thought I was going to be in Dallas for Saturday and Sunday.

Thursday Oct 27: Tiny invites me to a Halloween party.  I realize that I’m actually going to be around Saturday night; I don’t leave for Dallas until Sunday morning.  I accept her invitation.

Saturday Oct 29: I realize the “party” is at the same club from last Friday and Saturday.  Regret sinks in.  I ignore that sensation and move forward.

9:00PM: I arrive at the club with a chimp mask on.  I say I’m Obama or Bush, depending on who asks.  I find Tiny.  We get drinks.

9:10PM: I wonder why my martinis are all olive juice.  I cannot taste any hint of vodka.

10:30: We’re feeling good and head to the dance floor.

11:45: A costume competition is held.  Tiny lines up to compete.  I cheer along as she stands up for the crowd.

11:46: I get hit in the face with a blunt object.  Me: “What the fuck?!”  The girl behind me points to another girl and says “Hey that girl just hit you.”

11:47: I poop myself.  It’s Lady Crimson.  She’s clearly upset with me.  Remember, I told her I wasn’t going to be around this weekend.  I begin to tell her that there’s an explanation for this.

11:48: Tiny runs up to my left side while I’m talking to Lady Crimson off to my right.  Tiny hugs and kisses me, exclaiming, “WE WON!”.

11:48: Poker face

11:53: I try to find Lady Crimson to diffuse the situation.  I locate her and explain everything to her truthfully.  She doubts I’m even going to Dallas period.  One of the waitresses comes up and asks Lady Crimson if she’s okay while I’m talking to her, as if Crimson might have been endangered by me.  I now understand why my martinis were straight olive juice.  Lady Crimson is friends with all the waitresses.

11:59: I tell Lady that I want to make things work, but that I’m with someone else that night.  She understands, but is rightfully skeptical and clearly not thrilled with the situation.

Sunday 1:30AM: Tiny and I leave.  She begins to follow me back in my car.  I still haven’t fixed the heat in my car though so my windows were frosted on the inside and outside.  I decide that I want to get the fuck out of the club so I begin to drive with half my body out of the window so I can see.  It’s too cold and I drive a stick so this is quickly understood to be an impractical and unsafe option.  I pull over and Tiny helps me scrape my windows.

3:30: After some massage and sex, Tiny tells me that she prefers that I not date anyone else from that club.

3:31: Me: ”Define ‘date’”.  Her (after a pause): “Are you seeing someone else from that club?”

3:32: poker face

3:33: Me: “I’m gonna go sleep outside.”

soon after… “I have a friend there.”

3:34: Her: “When did you meet her?”

3:35: poker face

Then I explain my little rendezvous with Crimson.  She understands and isn’t thrilled, but explains to me that she doesn’t want to be endangered by some crazy chick that might attack her at the club, and she doesn’t like drama.

That leads to some talk about relationships and openness, transparency, etc.  We fall asleep after a good conversation.

6:00: I get up to catch the plane to Dallas.

12:30PM: I get to my hotel in Dallas.  I see a text from Tiny saying she had a good night.  Another text from Crimson asking to send her a photo of my boarding pass.  She wants proof.

12:31: I hand-draw a boarding pass, take a picture, and send it to her.

12: 33: She calls me an asshole.

12: 34: I send her a picture of the actual pass.  We resume flirting and teasing.  The dust begins to settle.  We’re on for Thursday.

This particular venue had a low percentage of ladies under 30.  I was thrilled.  Here I was, practically a virgin again, surrounded by the finest kind of women.  My heart was pounding.

After dancing with a few shy Asian girls I made my way to the wall.  There I saw her – Lady Crimson.  She was a slender African goddess with short hair and a one-piece outfit on that exposed her fit thighs and smooth, tapering calves.  My eyes were glued.  I slowly followed those perfect legs down to her little feet.  They were wrapped in comfortable shoes.  I liked that she wasn’t wearing high heels.  I don’t like high heels.  They make feet uncomfortable, dancing harder, and women taller.

I stayed on the dance floor to gauge the situation.  There was a lanky 6 foot goon lurking above her left shoulder as she either ignored his half-hearted advances or just didn’t hear them.  I saw no evidence of a partner so I danced my way over.  I started with my back turned, let my body do the talking, like a peacock spreading his feathers.  She accepted the invitation.  I didn’t even make eye contact with her until we were in the middle of the dance floor.  I can’t believe that worked, I thought.

I hadn’t been dancing in a while so my lower body was quickly destroyed.  By the time we finished my legs were filled with acid.  We went to the bar, shared a couple drinks.  She told me she liked my arms.  Women really like veins on a guy’s forearms, I thought.  She told me she liked how I bit the bottom of her neck on the dancefloor.  Women really like their necks to be kissed, I thought.

She asks how old I am.  I tell her “old enough to party”.  She laughs at McLovin.  She tells me she’s 34.  I tell her I have a boner.  She laughs.  Jokes like that are funny when everyone’s drinking.

We drink a little more, flirt, kiss, and caress into the night, until the lights turn on.  She’s whip smart.  Perfect teeth.  Dangerous smile.  Deadly laugh.

Turns out she lives in Baltimore, over an hour away.  She comes down to this particular club every week with her friends.  They were waiting for her outside.

I was a little bummed that I couldn’t please this little biologist that night.  It would be three days before that happened.

=====

I texted her on Monday and teased her about seducing me.  We talked about the dancing, kissing, etc.  We decide to meet up later that night.  She doesn’t have a car though, since she doesn’t need one.  What the hell, I thought.  I’ll drive an hour.

We meet at a bar in Baltimore.  This particular place has a dark bitter ale called Resurrection.

“I like my beers like I like my women – alive.”  She thought that was funny.  I’ll do anything to lure that red-hot laughter out of those painted lips.

She’s an interesting woman.  Doesn’t like her job.  Wanted to be a doctor because she’s obsessed with helping people but couldn’t get in to med school.  Likes singing.  She’s got a strong voice too, she’d be good at singing.  Fuck school… she’s too smart for cookie-cutter bullshit.

===

Listening to her snore is a therapeutic experience.  It’s fun.  It’s like… you don’t want to wake her up at all so you try to match her breathing.  So you sit there focusing on breathing to the same rhythm as her until you hear the congestion kick in.  Then you can start breathing normal.  But you move your shoulder a little bit when she inhales and exhales to keep the physical rhythm going.  You figure she feels more than she hears when she’s out.  The goop in her throat builds up.  The crescendo of her little nasal symphony.  Then her nasal cavity catches a chunk of mucus or some shit and you hear a big ol’ crack, like a snore packed into a split second.  It snaps her awake; her breathing is cleared up and she slides her arm closer around you.    You rub your cheek against her forehead.  But her breathing stays clear this time, and her hand grips your side a little tighter.  So you kiss her forehead, gently calibrating with whatever it is she wants.  It’s a mystery.  She angles her face up to yours and your lips brush.  She pulls tighter, you pull tighter.  Her legs pull her hips into yours, and her crotch is rubbing against your upper thigh.  Green light.  Your lips meet, your tongues meet, your fingers lock.  You fuck again.  But this time you’re more sober.  You slide the pillow under her and mount her missionary style.  Her tits are perfect.  Her teeth, neck, shoulders, all perfect.  Her smile, beyond perfect.  The red light of her lamp pours onto her wet body.  Everything feels sinful.  A caramel coated goddess with crimson curves, writhing and moaning happily beneath you.

===

It’s an image I’ll never forget.  We fuck until I’m about to come.  I shoot a stringer right up to her head.  See, when a guy has a boner for a while and doesn’t come, his shit gets loaded.  Pump gets primed.  So when he does finally come, it’s a truckload.

That sight has been etched into my memory.  Red light on her wet caramel body.  White teeth smiling up at me.  I would really like to get into erotic photography.  Women are fucking gorgeous, and vice versa.

Towards the end of the night I saw this tiny little Asian woman (Tiny) dancing with her friends.  I walked across her line of sight, our eyes caught for a moment, I smiled, she smiled.  I kept walking, not sure what to do.  My body pulled me around and I ended up dancing next to her.  One of her friends gestured towards me.  Tiny asked me if I want to dance.  I smiled and started moving a little.

We danced and talked.  She’s perky.  The space between our bodies got small and my lips found her neck.  She’s into it.  We kept it up.  I felt her butt, legs, I held her into me by her sides.  Our cheeks were touching, then our lips were touching, then the tips of our tongues.  She pulled me down by my neck to say something in my ear – “let’s go home”.  I’m surprised, but happy.  I asked her “my place or yours?”.  ”Yours” she says.

I told her I’ll meet her by the door.  She took a few minutes and found me.  We kissed again she told me she’ll follow me to my place.  She drives a really nice car, a new Acura.  I wonder how old she is, I thought.  I wonder if she’s married.

We drove back to my place.  We got into my room.  We kissed.

She had surgery (she had to donate a kidney to her mother) and was afraid of the scar.  She asked for paper towel and told me not to look.  I thought maybe she had a big gaping wound with pus and shit seeping out of it.  I tried smelling the air with my back turned but couldn’t pick anything up.  So I thought maybe she had a tampon to hide.  No evidence was found.  Her scar was tiny and healed up.  I’ll never know what the paper towel was for.

We get lubed up and take it slow.  She has fake tits.  Turns out her cousin is a really good surgeon.  They look perfect – symmetric, perky, but not too enthusiastic.  I had a blast with her.

The next morning we woke up, she gave me a blowjob, we fucked some more (I have a hard time coming from blowjobs, but they feel fantastic), and got Mexican food.  She insisted on paying for it, as a token of her appreciation.  This woman is so appreciative of everything.  It’s nice.

She has a 26-year-old son with a motorcycle.  She knows that I’m new to the area and offered to introduce me to his group of bikers.  Turns out they all have guns too.  I think I’ll pass.

This woman is a total sweetheart though.  She owns guns and wants to take me shooting since I’ve never been.  She’s offered to drive me to the airport for business trips, offered to cook me food, it’s crazy.  She’s owned a nail salon, sold it for profit, and now enjoys travelling.  Call me old-fashioned, but women are, generally speaking, just more fun than college girls.