Date Night Shoes

Let's get down to business here and clear away the bee-ess. The world is divided into shoe-lovers and non-shoe-lovers. It can't be stated more clearly.

Here I'm referring mostly to women's shoes. Ladies, forget all the lists of stuff you are looking for in a man. Have just one requirement: the ideal bloke has spent at least ten minutes in the last week daydreaming about you in your sexiest heels. That's it! The guy who adores your feet in delicious footware will end up fulfilling every other need. Shoe-awareness is the killer dating app.

But I don't want to talk about ladies' shoes today, as much as that would give me pleasure. It's the guys who really need the help, because, like it or not, your footwear sends a powerful message - a truth most women inherently understand.

So, men, before you heading out on a date, do a little planning. Yes, I understand that most of us will dress without any forethought. We'll probably wear something that's clean and casual, jeans most likely with some kind of shirt. Most of us will avoid wife-beaters, with the overt and covert messages they send. Big-city dwellers might wear a suit; that's always good. My rule of thumb is that it's always better to err up than down, but be prepared to get some looks in Florida if you sport that Brioni three-piece in the Manatee Lounge.

Then we'll choose our date night shoes. That's where we need to get religion. Firstly, never, ever - and I mean never - wear trainers/tennis shoes on a date. They shout "foot odour" and will kill your date's nascent interest. Secondly, never take flops on a date. Ditto sandals. Feet are not equal-opportunity limbs; women's feet are the winners, and are the only kind to be seen naked in public. Keep your plates of meat hidden. Thirdly, cowboy boots are only for cowboys. If you try to pull that off, you look like you're trying too hard. All hat, no cattle, as the saying goes. Fourthly, whatever shoes you do choose, make sure the heels aren't worn down, the soles are in good repair and that they're clean and polished.

Now to the finer points. Men's shoes come in two basic varieties, lace-ups and slip-ons aka: brothel creepers. Lace-ups are always the first choice. They work well with any kind of trouser, jean or suit pant. With a little polish, they provide the - and this is important, because it's what women notice - accessorizing advantage. Quality, slightly formal shoes buff your image with the hint of luxury that women notice.

By the way, that's a word smart men understand that women live for: accessorizing.

Slip-ons can work, but you need to be careful. Those bronze-coloured alligator numbers you thought were so cool from that weekend in New Orleans will look odd in Minneapolis in March. And slip-ons don't encourage the good posture that well-made shoes naturally engender.

Here's the bottom line. Guys should always have at least one pair of quality dress shoes, kept in excellent repair. I prefer the more conservative English style, but of course the Italians win the sex-appeal stakes.



Bottoms Up, Shoe-istas.
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Mama's Got a Squeezebox

Hope Solo pic credit.

My best information is that women are split between vaginal orgasmobabes and clitoral orgasmobabes. Unevenly split, as it turns out, for a pretty obvious reason: the vagina is not a pleasure centre, whereas the clitoris is.

A brief cruise around my trusted sources (my hairstylist, the supermarket checkout lady this morning) tells us that roughly two-thirds of women need some kind of clitoral love to orgasm. Vaginal orgasm alone is a less visited corner of the sex cave, which is not to say we can't light a candle and go find some. It seems that it's a bit of a squeeze and not so much upside to the journey.

There is, naturally enough, a wrinkle, and it is the G-spot. That's an upside wrinkle by the way. Given the right stimulation, the mighty Grafenburg is the key to vaginal Oh! But given its usual position, can be difficult-ish to engage. (With the penis, that is. Hand-jobs are a different tub of gelato.)

Vaginal elasticity being what it is, there are lots of fun ways to find lady-pleasure. I'm writing here more to blokes than the sheilas - one would hope that chicks already know how to get themselves off. Because I'm entirely representative of most men, I can tell you that we love the challenge of helping you find that beautiful butt-quivering, leg shaking, hip thrusting, pussy-pouting, full-throttle climax. They're awesome! Perhaps we like finding them inside you because ours are so relatively easy to come by.

In any case, guys, be aware that until you find otherwise, the little man in the boat is key to the nuclear reactor...but beyond that, mixing a little G-spot exploration with appropriate partner positioning (downward dog, anyone?) can make her day. And, as you and I know, ours, too.





Bottoms Up, G-Spotters.

A G-Post from long ago. Still good, unless female anatomy has changed.

The Pussy Never Lies

Photo Credit.

Few feelings compare to the one engendered when a hand slid - up or down - to the pussy is rewarded with The Big Wet. Discovering a warm gooey pussy is a lottery win, validation, and a promise of wonders to come all rolled in to one. It's a sweet-salty treasure, especially the first time. (Although the feeling rarely declines much over time.)

I don't know if this is true, but women generally aren't given to state:

God, I'm wet for you as much as they should.

When a dude's interested, it's pretty obvious, and for sure he need not announce:

You know you've given me wood?

We guys communicate these things well enough without resort to direct anatomical revelations. It's pretty much a one-way street - assume the man's ardor, evidence is required of the woman's.

Hence the need for confirmation with a sly hand slide.

The cooking world provides the best analogy. When you think the dish is ready to eat, one gently slides a thermometer inside to check for done-ness.

That's pretty much all I need say.



Bottoms Up, Wet Ones!

Dead Rubber

It would end much of the fluff filling celebrity newspapers and gossip websites, but if men took charge of their potency, their lives would be more in their control.

The only guaranteed male contraceptive is the vasectomy. In case you forgot your basic male reproductive anatomy, this procedure cuts and seals the vas deferentia, the tubes that carry sperm from the testicles into the seminal stream.

Sidebar: There appears to be, in my discussions with women about this, misunderstanding of how jism is made. Semen is the overarching term for the complete ejaculate. Semen Cocktail is formed during the process of ejaculation, when sperm passes through the vas and mixes with other fluids from the prostate and elsewhere. In short, the actual reproductive material, the love-taddies or sperm, comprise only around 10% of the ejaculate. That's what is stopped by the vasectomy. The rest is a mix of fructose, enzymes, citric acid and lipids designed to protect and lubricate the sperm on the way to the eggs.

End sidebar.

Interestingly, the vagina is chemically hostile to sperm. The mix of fluids comprising male orgasmic fireworks is mostly a tank battalion designed to storm the castle of the lady's gooey defences. The only difference between the vasectomized and the unvasectomized man is the potential pregnancy. Everything else is exactly the same, including, I am reliably informed, the taste.

So. Once a man has an heir, a spare, and perhaps one or two more for luck, he'd be smart to take charge of his shit, and get the big V. I've heard that, later in life, women find a potent but infertile man irresistible.





Bottoms Up, Ejaculators!

20,000 Pubes Under the Tongue

My guess is that it's your experience too, that pubic hair isn't as well anchored to the pudendum as it ought. But what a jolly bonding thing it is to stop and amusingly highlight that you are removing a pube from between your teeth lest more than one collect and create a ball. Hilarious.

Which reminds me that this situation is called having sex, whereas one hair in your eggdrop soup calls for a lawsuit. What a funny olde world we live in. Thank you tort lawyers.

But back to the man in the boat. It's my phrase du jour, this happy nautical metaphor for the clitoris hiding in the decking. Sneaky individual that man in the boat, for sometimes he's under a sou'wester, and other times he's out on the poop deck just gagging for some company. And just why is he a man? Shirley an all girl crew is more appropriate?

Being criticised for lack of ability to find the clit is often man's lot. If Nintendo got their act together, they could do fantastically. Imagine this: A Wii game in which the object is to find and stimulate a digital clitoris until the boat is awash in wet'n'gooey. If Wii controllers accepted input from tongue, lips, fingers and teeth, we'd have ourselves a decent cunt simulator.



Bottoms Up, Gamers!



Pic from this excellent site [link]

Friday Fluffer - Gスポット

In the Anglosphere, we're used to talking about and feeling for the G-Spot, despite evidence it's all one big hoax. <----Link. Being a hoax is no reason to disbelieve anything in today's world, so in the face of evidence, I choose to believe. However, I went to find out what "G-Spot" is in other languages. In Japanese, I know, it is "G-Supotto", which I find singularly cute.

In German: G Punkt (Really the Gräfenberg Spot.)

In Arabic: ز الموقع

In Welsh: G Fan

In Dutch: Four Heinekens and a Grope

God love the Lowlanders. Them and their fingers in dykes.





Bottoms Up, G-Spotters.

Thighs courtesy of here [link]

La Petite Mort

There's a part of me that envies the complexity of the female. I have way fewer moving parts than a woman, and some days - like today - I wonder if being a chick would stave off the boredom.

The reason any given woman will suffer less from boredom than any given man is because you have more mental rooms in which to play. You can take your emotions out for a spin and see what happens. There are always your sisters with whom to share. And if you're in the mood, you can always unbridle your sexy side for some fun.

The sisterhood is really important, because y'all are way more social animals than men. That means there's always someone at the end of your street or the end of your cellphone who might have something to say that will alleviate a dull day. At the very least, she'll call you "Sweetie" and "feel bad" for you. Women empathize.

Maybe life really is more dramatic for babes. Male orgasm (I imagine, backed up by porn) is a pretty standard thing. But female O is Shakespearean. (Irony of a using a playwright and actor noted.) Memories of ex-g/f Os are some of my favourite mental images, especially the near-death-like Petite Mort kind.

I like the Urban Dictionary's definition:

The little death is translation from the French "la petite mort", a popular reference for a sexual orgasm. The term has been broadly expanded to include specific instances of blacking out after orgasm and other supposed spiritual releases that come with orgasm. Speculations to its origin include current connotations of the phrase, including: * Greco-Roman belief that the oversecretion of bodily fluids would "dry out" one of the believed four humours, leading to death.

Seems I'm not the only one who enjoys the memory of climax past:

This is quite the discovery [link]<-----Interesting Link SFW


Bottoms Up, Climaxers!




Pic from here {link}

Friday Fluffer - Guess Her Muff

This is what blokes do all the time. Not dream of lesbians, but use our imaginations.

When we see a woman, we try to guess her muff.

NOTE NOTE NOTE NOTE NOTE

This Site has disappeared.

Guess Her Muff. <-----Link

But here's another celebrating women.

Link.

Warning: Nudity and NSFW.

Further Friday Fluffers here [link]



Bottoms Up, Muffins!

Feeling Good, Louis.

In reverse order, these activities make me feel physically good.

6. Waking after a regenerative night's sleep.

5. Completion of a cardio and/or strength work-out.

4. A swim, or any kind of in-water activity.

3. Peak cocktail buzz at 1.2 martinis.

2. Class A Elimination ie: a great shit.

1. Orgasm, preferably with female accompaniment.


Other stuff can feel good, but tend to the more adrenaline-based end of the spectrum. Reaching the peak of a mountain or driving fast both fall into that category. YMMV, of course.

No surprise that reproduction makes us feel good. Nature's clever like that.

I had a point about this, but forgot what it was. If I think of it, I'll get back to you. What I am thinking is that I should have ranked the feeling of when one surreptitiously slides one's hand up a lady's skirt, to find that she's already sweetly slippery. That might be up there somewhere.

Nah, that's more of an anticipation thing, not in the same ballpark at all.

Bottoms up!





Pic of Milka Duno from here. [link]

Friday Fluffer - Stick it in Already

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Post Pussy

This is destined to become a backwater of the internet, but just between you and me, will you ladies answer this question?

After a man has spent himself licking and sucking and lapping your gooey regions, do you want him to kiss you?

Yes, I want every woman who reads this to answer. Please.

Let's be clear: his chin is dripping with your juice, and his tongue red-raw from pleasuring your kitty/taint/arse.

Should he rise up from between your loins and look approvingly for a smooch?

Bottoms up!



Photo from here, although I doubt they're smart enough to realize the audience we provide them. [link]

Edited for overuse of 'lapping' and other sundry failings.

Salt, Sweet, Sour, Bitter and Umami.

There used to be only four basic taste descriptors, (salt, sweet, sour and bitter) but they (the smarties who study these things) discovered an extra one in 2002. I have called it umami, its Japanese name, but it's also known as savouriness.

It's quite something to think that everything we eat and drink can be completely described via a combination of these five categories. Smell plays a big part in the way food feels and tastes, as well as the texture. There's a lot going on there.

What's true of food is true of eating pussy too. Lots of weak jokes surround the taste of ladies' vaginas, but I don't swim with that school. Yes, there can be a fishy undertone to some lady juice, but by no means all holes taste the same. (By "all holes" I don't mean all holes in the one lady; I'm talking about the poon-hole in different ladies. Just wanted to make that clear, although other lady holes are fun too, and some even have teeth.)

The perfect pussy "...tastes like hot-sweet-sticky-kinda-salty candy." Who wouldn't like a second helping of that? I'd like it for all seven courses, thank-you waiter. The quote comes from this Salon.com article, an excellent read. I don't need to rehash it here. One truth I hadn't connected before is that hairy love trench is a fundamentally different experience than deforested trim. That's mostly because of the residual smells hiding in the pubes.

See, tasting and smelling are closely related in sex too.

All the evidence points to everything you ingest, inject or stick up your vagina changing its taste. Pretty obvious, that, and the same phenomenon as the sperm/semen combination tasting different depending upon what the owner eats. The big difference is in the contraception arts, which can make your va-jay-jay taste like hand sanitizer if you're not careful.

Frankly, I have yet to meet a muff I haven't liked. Some research in this area would be a fine thing, because of pet theory of mine: I believe that snatch tastes different depending on the position of the female, and wonder if there's any science to the postulation.

Bottoms up.





Tongue pic from here [link]

Edited out of respect for English.

For the female perspective on dining at the Y (girl on girl) try this [link]