Buffing Your Lucky

Here's a recipe:

  ~ Find one ripe woman whose divorce finalized within the last week.

  ~ Add five of her sorority sisters in town for the weekend.

  ~  Wrap all six in sexy dresses and tasty heels.

  ~ Supply them with two cars and designated drivers for the night. 

  ~ Marinate the ladies in quality vodka and just enough bar snacks.

Serve to any lecherous man within five-inch heel walking distance.

After a couple of hours and three nightspots, the mission of the night became clear - to find the recently singlefied Sister a new man. In essence, her married Greeks chat up whatever blokes they found with complete deniability - it's not for them, they're finding a new dude for her.

They're buffing her lucky. (Peals of uninhibited laughter.)








Bottoms Up, Pledgers.

Disinformation

Intellectualizing relationships makes for awesome dinner party schtick. Two reactions stand out:

I know! That's so true!

or

Silence.

The latter indicates that someone's feeling flushed-out or guilty.

Whichever.

We make mental lists of ideal qualities. She/he should be like this, look like that, think like the other. I'll know her when I meet her, she'll stand out like New York in Las Vegas.

In real life we meet prospects who kinda sorta fit our perfect template, and depending upon our level of desperation, we'll ignore whatever doesn't.

* shrug *

This is real life, baby, it ain't no fantasy. Eighty percent compatibility feels like it's the most we can hope for. That prolly goes for life in general.

However. There's always the however. Because the urge to be with someone (read: continue the species) overpowers everything, we are supremely adept at ignoring warning signs in prospects. He's a drug-using philanderer with a history of unemployment and using prostitutes. But he's my John now.

Settle. Go for it. Go on. But don't then expect your day in court when it doesn't work out.





Bottoms Up Deniers.

Faith. Hope. Charity.

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

Friday Fluffer - New Use for Nylons

As if the idea of stockings isn't sexy enough, there's this:

Tie two or three knots in a nylon stocking, and gently wrap it (don’t tie it) around the base of his penis so it’s snug but still has some give. The compression makes him even more sensitive, and the knots stimulate your clitoris as you move in girl-on-top.

Anyone tried it?

From the wonderful folks at Cosmopolitan.


Bottoms Up, Adventurers!


Pic from here [link]

Here's To You Mrs Robinson

Nothing like a slice of seduction pie to give you an appetite for stockings and hotel-room afternoons. Hotel sex is great because inside those walls the congress is guilt-free, something to do with the air freshener Lupe and Consuelo spray or the dwarf bathroom supplies. If I am mistaken and that smell isn't the whiff of guilt-free bonking, it must be some other factor of which I'm unaware - the fact of someone else laundering the dried-fluid-soaked sheets, perhaps. Yum.

Anne Bancroft seducing Dustin Hoffman wouldn't work in a film thesedays. He'd be (1) totally into the MILF action from the get-go, and (2) would have no concern at remaining a slacker shagger of bored housewives for the rest of his days. The Graduate's problem is that it drills mightily into the boring questions, such as why is Tootsie staring like a goober at the best gams he's likely to see...in bare feet? No, that's the kind of question it should be asking, and doesn't. Damned Hollywood.

Dustin's a dope to worry his cute tousled hair-do over whether to choose his Cougar or the Cougar's daughter, a question that I think Bill Clinton resolved years ago. Choose them both, and a bacon burger to go. Actually it's men who just wanna have fun, Cyndi Lauper.




Bottoms Up, Mes Enfants!


Pic of Dustin and Anne from The Graduate, but this version is from here. [link]

Ripping Yarns

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but I say the way to a woman's pussy is through her underpants. Through or around or (in the case of crotchless) between. Hells, it's giving me a woody thinking about the wonders of ladies and their underduds.

James Bond (of course) is the man best at undressing ladies, mostly because they don't have much on to start with. (Miss Moneypenny is the exception.) Funny that being a licenced-to-kill spy also entitles one to a cotery of easily-bedded hotties in evening gowns or bikinis.

Anyway, it was Sean Connery who I noted once de-frocked a lover by slicing through the spaghetti straps of her LBD, letting the thing fall to the floor.

:cut to shots of rampant elephant trunks and earthquakes:

Where was I? Right, the road to heaven lies beyond the boy-shorts.

There is an art in removing a lady's panties. Possible choices include demurely running them down the legs, if she's standing. If she's on her back, shimmy those things over her arse, create a tangle at the feet, then let her kick them off. And then there's ripping the damn things off so you can get to the action ASAP.

Nothing says God I want you NOW! like using brute strength to tear that shit off, and hopping into it with animal abandon.

:cue shots of elephant trunks rampant and earthquakes:

Yesterday I discovered how women feel about the wanton destruction of their sexy smalls at the hands of a neanderthal lover:

They Love It.

And the attraction? The sound of ripping lace.

I think they call this 'Win-Win'.





Thanks to Snaf for the lingerie-wearer's perspective. [link]

Loverly ladies photo from here [link]

Edited for incorrect panty-removal technique. Someone would have picked up the error.

Stockings and Gum

War is no excuse for abandoning sex. That was the attitude of many folks during World War 2, especially the American boys based in the UK preparing for D-Day. And who can blame them? The 1.5 million guys who arrived between July 1943 and June 1944 knew they were training to take back Europe from the Nazis, and it wasn't likely to be fun.

Knowing you might be dead in a few months is a decent spur to taking advantage of the moment, I'd say.

The poor old Brits had been deprived of much since 1939. Relying on convoys of goods from North America, their food and fuel were rationed and luxuries were like gold - expensive and rare. So when the robust lads began arriving from Stateside in 1942, they were like people from another world.

Time Magazine described it thus:

The Americans, bursting into an England gone drab and gray and plagued with shortages of everything after four years of war, were nothing if not jaunty. Residents of Somerset still remember G.I.s tossing chocolate bars and gum out of passing trucks to goggle-eyed children. According to a popular gag, so much American chewing gum had been tossed in the fountains of London's Trafalgar Square that the pigeons there were laying rubber eggs.

"Hi ya, cutie" was the universal greeting called out to females from 15 to 50. "They took all the girls," mutters one British war veteran who on the whole liked the Americans. And indeed the walls outside American barracks were lined every night with panting couples twined in a last embrace before bed check. William D. Kendall, who represented the town of Grantham, complained in Parliament that "it is unfit for a woman to walk unescorted" there because of the "unconcealed immorality" of the G.I.s. Others of course had a different opinion; some 60,000 British women eventually became American war brides. [link]


Another view:

Conditions were harsh in Britain in the early 1940s and there was also an undercurrent of unease...especially amongst British men, who resented the attraction of GIs, with their ready supply of nylons and cigarettes, amongst British women. The artist Beryl Cook, who was a young woman at the time confirmed this in an interview to the BBC in the late 1970s. I can't find the transcript of the interview, but from memory it was words to the effect of, 'food was scarce, but we supplemented our income by a little impromptu whoring with the GIs - we all did it'. Many of these liaisons were love matches rather than merely commercial transactions though, as the thousands of marriages between US servicemen and British women (the GI brides) is evidence of. [link]

Hi ya, cutie. No wonder they were referred to as "Oversexed, overpaid and over here."

Try getting laid with a pair of stockings and a packet of Marlboro Lights today.