Why Is She Single?

Wombat: So who is the brunette hottie in the pic you sent?

Friend-Girl: Oh, that's Chantelle.

Wombat: Would I like her?

Friend-Girl: Hmmmm, maybe. She's a little spiritual for you. But I think she's dirty - she's always talking about her thigh-high boots and lingerie. I'm sure you'd like that about her.

Wombat: So why is she single?

Friend-Girl: You can't ask that question.

Wombat: Sorry?

Friend-Girl: That question is off-limits. Everyone asks cute single girls why they don't have a man, like that's the only thing that matters. So I rule the question invalid.

Wombat: Oh. I can't even ask the question?

Friend-Girl: Nope.

Pause. 

Wombat: This is about you, isn't it? You don't want to talk about this because you're sans-a-man, right?

Friend-Girl: Bastard.

Click.






Bottoms Up, Freedom of Speechers.

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!

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]

Pussification

Pussification, the term, is the work of George Carlin, a now dead comedian. I found a difficult to read but decent working definition here. [link] But I think that pussification deserves more than a sociologist's bland words, so here's an illustrative story.

Once upon a time, there was a young man. This young man lived in Sydney, a big city on the east coast of Australia. He had many friends, and, being single, at least one eye open on the lookout for sweet young ladies.

A friend of his had a party one night, an event at which our hero met his friend's new housemate. The housemate was a bouncy blonde, self-employed and rather attractive. She also owned an automobile that our young man coveted, so, during the course of the party, a date was made to go for a drive in the sweet ride.

On the day of the driving-date, the weather was calm and warm, so the bouncy blonde wore a short skirt, a tee, and sandals. Everything went well. Our young man got to drive, bought the young lady lunch, and found himself attracted to his companion.

As the date drew to a close, an argument sprang up inside his head. The question? Whether to make a move, or whether to not make a move. All it would have taken was to casually place his hand on her naked knee as they drove along. A simple, unequivocal sign of carnal intent would have been met with either her removing his hand, or her not removing his hand.

In either case, the question would have been answered.

But he didn't. And she didn't. And now we'll never know.

That, my friends, is pussification, when a man will not risk rebuff from placing a hand on a woman's knee on a driving date.








Picture from here. [link]