Superpowers for Men

Suzette's Photo Credit.

Complicated as the pursuit of women can be, one Superpower that always works to simplify the chase is humour. A woman laughing is a woman on your side. That's why, if I had my druthers, I'd choose irresistible funniness as my Superpower.

Note that I wrote ...simplify...

not

...guaranteed to have every women within earshot inviting you to get a room right then and there, saying come fuck me 'til I wilt.

No. Although that would be sweet. Irrational spur-of-the-moment anytime hotel sex is as sexy as a wardrobe of La Perla and Agent Provocateur. All I'm saying is that talk that results in the beautiful sound of a woman laughing lowers the drawbridge to the castle.

Naturally, nothing works with all babes. My humour, for example, tends towards the absurdist - it's more about wordplay than anecdotes. Telling stories from real life is absolutely not my forte, and my delivery is deadpan rather than manic. Sadly, this has limited lady-appeal, but at least it's something.

Which leads me to the VERY important point for guys, that FORCING humour never works. All you can do is to demonstrate what you've got, and hope it generates the right, gooey-in-the-forks response.

Notwithstanding, when it does work, and you have the lady convulsing, the road ahead is cleared of many obstacles. You've established an intellectual connection (without the pain of discussing Wuthering Heights) and she's seen that you are good company. Doubts about your ability to hold a job or suitability as a father are cast aside, because she'll want you to make her feel good with more funny talk.

What she might not understand is that you want to make her feel good with both of you naked sharing body parts. But that's the beauty of Superpowers - only afterwards do the recipients of them realize what they've witnessed.




Bottoms Up, Laughers.

Wombatgram #18 - The Dumping Olympics

No reason not to make rejection a form of sport, right?



Click on Wombatgram for bigger version.




Bottoms Up, Athletes.

Earthy Women

Photo Credit.

Vegetables are good for you, but can the same be said for earthy women? And just what is an earthy woman anyway?

This is my definition, which will be unlike yours:

Earthy women smell like loam and horse dung, have grit under their fingernails and hair everywhere. They're back to nature types, tie-dyed and be-sandaled, keen on doulas and dope.

Earthy women aren't that easy to find any more. Some died of drug overdose in the seventies, others left for hippie communes and a life of kaftans and chanting, never to venture back into society. Some even had children, who, in that delightful way kids have of hacking off their parents, went on to become accountants and Christians.

A sense of humour is not normally associated with earthy women - don't confuse earthy jokes with earthiness; they're worlds apart. And absolutely don't make jokes at their expense, they'll rip your bloody leg off if you demean women in any way.

Sex with earthy girls is something I have done, but here's what grossed me out: earthy women have dirty feet. That's a great quality for a plant, maybe not for a close encounter.



Bottoms Up, Friends of the Earth!

My Pants are Too Tight

Indulging my new fascination. Introducing Greta and Greg.



Bottoms Up, Miscommunicators!

What Do Men Say?

Unusually, I'm about to recommend another websiteslashblog.[link] I have no clue who the people are, but I see there's talent among the production and editorial staff and (guessing) money backing them too.

The premise is one I like and try to put into practice here @ KnB, namely the idea that women want to hear what men think about, and about them. My efforts are miserable, but the following interview is worthwhile.

It helps that Miss Schell, the interviewer, does a bang-up job of not verbally obstructing the guys.

It's worth a look, safe for work, and nicely amiable.





Bottoms Up, Inquisitors!

RubixGirl from here. [link]

Friday Fluffer - Condom Eiffel Towers

I'm led to believe that latex sheaths coated with nonoxynol-9 have uses other than to prevent one night stands becoming paternity suit filers.

Here's evidence.




Bottoms Up Squeakers!


Forward woman pic from my favourite state [link]

And another hat-tip to Snaf, without whom I'd be bereft of material.

Friday Fluffer - Mae West

Sass and smarts never get old. Here are my favourite Mae West quotes:

Too many girls follow the line of least resistance--but a good line is hard to resist.


I see you're a man with ideals. I better be going before you've still got them.


When women go wrong, men go right after them.


An ounce of performance is worth pounds of promises.


I'll try anything once, twice if I like it, three times to make sure.





Bottoms Up!

Pic from here, but probably not originally [link]

My Penis is an Idiot

My penis is an idiot.

I can say this without fear of contradiction, because no-one will vouch for him in a moral or social sense, least of all me. Together, he and his two lurking buddies, The Testicles, took control of me at around age seventeen, and have yet to relinquish their power.

His epitaph will read:

Upright fellow, lacked judgment.

And that really tells you all you need to know. After all, every penis is a hydraulic accumulator, nothing more, nothing less. I guess he has an integrated fluid delivery system as well, but that only works when he's rigid. If the hydraulics fail, there's only one thing penises do.

Which makes me think about my penis as a kind of two-stunt circus animal. One trick is urination. Boring. The other trick is to grow exponentially in size and deliver one half of a baby. Put like that he sounds way more complex than I'd thought, but closer investigation reveals the truth. My baby half consists of wriggling love-tadpoles swimming around in their very own protein-matrix, all explosively delivered in a spurty bundle after four martinis, a fumble in the car and a few minutes of thrusting. Not exactly Harvard material now, is he?

Which is why I'm convinced he's just the pitch-man for The Testicles. Think of him as Ed McMahon to The Testicles' Johnny Carson. Dumb, one-note and easily duped, that's my penis.

So it's the Balls who hang around in the background manipulating their big fleshy friend. They're the ones who convince him to approach unobtainable women in the hope of hooking up, and they're the ones who laugh behind his back when he fails. It's in their interest to see him succeed, but he lacks the critical function of being able to say:

No, Balls, this is not the way into her pants. I need some time and a little subtlety, and it might happen, but for now, stop egging me on.

He can't think on his feet, so to speak, and finds it impossible to say no. He's a big ole lug, who likes to please his owner, his balls, and any passing woman.

He's an idiot.




Bottoms up!


Edited.

Foreplay by Numbers

Golf embraces the concept of foreplay too, and in the same way as sex.

Shouting FORE! = Lookout, incoming!

Golf too has rules regarding that which is allowable and that which is not, just like real foreplay. A mate of mine relates the tale of being in Greece as a youth on a drunken teenage vacation. (He's English.) Standing at a bus stop with a Scottish girl he met earlier in the evening, they got frisky. When he reached up her skirt, she put a temporary end to proceedings by declaiming "Tits first, then box" in her delightful broad brogue.

The road to paradise is strewn with dead ends and blind turns. Until you have a working knowledge of the road, it's best to stick with a few basic rules that you both understand.

1. Some form of lubricant is a good idea. Social lubricant, that is. Alcohol is the standard way of reducing inhibitions.

2. Circle your object of desire in the same way that lions stalk prey. Purr, tread softly, use your tongue, be patient.

3. Encountering resistance is normal, and shouldn't dissuade you from continuing. Divert your attention elsewhere for a while, return to the scene of disappointment. Watch the gate open.

4. Feigning and misdirection are normal elements of foreplay.

5. Remember, it's only sex. It's not like negotiating strategic arms limitation treaties. Humour helps a lot. There's a reason it's called fooling around and not seriousing around.

Foreplay Part 1.

Foreplay Part 2.

Foreplay Part 3.