Best Kept Medical Secret

L-Lysine

The human body makes its own essential amino acids (the ones it needs to function properly), except for one: L-Lysine.

We used to get our necessary L-Lysine from whole grains. Now our foods are so processed, that we get very little L-Lysine.

L-Lysine is integrally tied to the proper functioning pf our immune system. Without L-Lysine we get sick much more often, and it lasts longer when we do.

L-Lysine is super cheap! I buy Nature Made, and a bottle of 500mg pills costs about 10 dollars at Costco. It has 400 pills in it. I take 1000 mgs a day unless I have been around someone sick, or I feel like I might be coming down with something (such as a cold sore, or a cold) then I bump up to 2000 mg a day.

If you are religious about it, take it every day, you will be sick about a tenth as often, and even if you should catch a new strain, you will recover in about half the time.

A Real Sex Session at Deni's House

This is an email I sent to my two cyber lovers about what happened to me in real life this morning .




Dottie sweetheart, and beloved Penny, Lieza and Lindi and Doni were so "mean" to me this morning! They all started to caress me and make love to me and Doni was inside me going just a tiny bit too slow to let me cum. Lieza was caressing me and Lindi was licking me and kissing me and caressing me. I got higher and higher and higher and god did i need to cum!

I begged and pleaded but they just laughed at me. Then Doni picked me up, his stiff cock still inside me, and carried me to the computer. They made me post pictures of me on Leslie's site with my name on the folder. Then they typed a post about torturing me and posted it.

Then Doni picked me back up, remember, he is still inside me, and carried me in front of the kitchen window and laid me over the table on my tummy and smacked my butt as he again slowly fucked me. I was beside myself in need of cumming. Had i been able to speak, i would have cursed them like a sailor. I was so turned on that i would have done ANYTHING to be allowed to cum. God baby, i was so hot and wet and god did i need to explode.

Lindi tied my arms and ankles to the table legs. Lieza got the nipple clamps and put them on me. First time in a really long time for the nipples clamps. She said she was getting me back in shape for Penny’s fun with me when Penny gets back. They situated me so my titties were hanging over the table and hung weights on my nipples. Then Doni pulled out of me and they started to stick kitchen implements inside me. Any thing that came to mind or to hand they stuck up me. Fruits, knife handles, mixer blades, vegetables, eggs, all that kind of stuff. Lindi kept tapping my clittie. I was so turned on that i started to bawl in frustration.

Then Lieza bent over right in front of me and Doni fucked into her, fucking her hard, making her cum, and cumming inside her. He slowly softened and there his used cock was right in front of me dripping my favorite desert, his precious cummies deep inside Lieza, and i was still stuffed with all this stuff inside me, needing to cum. Then Lieza smiled at me and took Doni's belt and started to strap my ass and pussy exactly the way i love it and added more weights to my nipples. She belted me for about ten minutes i think, never quite hitting me so that i could get off. Just teasing me. She moved to my breasts and strapped them to a bright red, the weights swinging back and forth each time she whammed my stretched out titties. Lieza kept slapping my ass with the palm of her hand, egging Liez on.

Then Doni started to get hard again! I think for the first time he was turned on by how my body loves to be treated when i am in this mood. I watched his cock rise and started to fantasize desperately about it being inside me. I tried hard to find something, ANYthing that i could rub my clittie on, but they had tied me too tightly.

Doni beckoned Lindi to stand in front of my face and he fucked her, making me watch. I had to listen to the pleasure Doni was giving Lindi. She got wetter and hotter until she started swearing her blue streak of orgasms. It took him a long time to cum inside her, her cumming continuously, but eventually he did, and there his soft dripping cock was again teasing me right in front of my face. This time he let me suckle their pussy juice and his cum covered cock with my mouth.

Then they started fixing breakfast as i was tied up and needy! They were laughing and joking and making comments about how sloppy wet i was. They had left an egg in me for god’s sake. I was beside myself in frustration and wanting to cum. You know how i am when I get horny.

Every once in a while one of them would walk by me tapping my clittie and caressing my pussy, sticking their finger in me to make sure the egg was still there. Then when I would almost be at the threshold of cumming, they would laugh and walk off again, making the weights on my nipples swing some more.

They ate breakfast making me watch them play with each other, smearing food on their bodies and licking it off each other, and then on my body licking it off of me. Doni got hard again and laid both of them on the floor right in front of me, then entered and fucked them both till they were wailing and thrashing and cumming again. Making me watch all this. GOD Dottie! I was crying and writhing and mouthing horrible curse words about them and loving every minute of my exquisite torture.

Lieza got her Feeldoe dildo she uses to fuck us with and put it in herself, and fucked Lindi right in front of me, then Lindi traded and fucked Lieza right in front of me and Doni was standing at my side, caressing me and toying with my clittie and asshole the whole time. I was shaking I was so close but I could not get that last enth of an inch to orgasm baby.

THEN THE FUCKING ASSHOLES WENT AND SHOWERED! TOGETHER! I could hear them all splashing and having fun and Lindi cut loose with more swearing, so i know she came again.

I have never ever been this turned on and frustrated in my life!

They all came back into the kitchen, retrieved the egg from within my pussy, cooked it and set it on a plate next to me to let it cool. When it had, they stuffed it back up my pussy, letting the yolk run of me and coat my needy clittie. They smeared my ass and pussy with it. My nipples were totally in agony now. I could feel myself slipping into sub space.

Doni put his cock in my mouth again and I suckled him voraciously until he was hard once again. Remember, this is number five or six, cause I had made love with him earlier before we got up. Clearly Doni is getting into this type of thing!

Then he took the nipple clamps off of me. OH MY GOD did that HURT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They all stood around me, caressing me and teasing me and sticking their fingers in me, both my cuntie and my bottom. The egg was drying out by now. They laughed and laughed about how wet i was under the egg crusties. Doni moved between my legs and started teasing my pussy lips with his cock head. He would not let me move my ass so that my clit would contact his cock head though.

Then Lindi and Liez started asking me if i wanted a good fucking. They taunted me, saying that I had to SAY the words, not just mouth them. Doni was pressing his cock at my cunt door, and the girls were playing with my nipples and caressing me and periodically slapping my bottom or titties.

God Dottie, i have never been held so close for so long before. I swear to you i would have taken King Kong’s cock up my ass if they would have let me cum!

Then, slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time. Doni started to enter me, holding his cock and sack high so that my clittie would not cum into contact with them. After what felt like the rest of eternity, he was firmly lodged up inside me.

He told me my cunt was pulsing and twitching and squeezing his cock like it had never done before. All I know is that I had to cum or I was sure I would die!

Suddenly he pulled out and then rammed his cock up me. Then out again and slammed it back in as hard as he could, making my whole body shake like jelly. Oh god baby, it was heaven! I started to cum like I have never cum before honey!

Doni grabbed my hips and just held on as my body racked and my pussy milked him, sucked him, blew him, craving his cummies to erupt inside me. I totally lost it, i have no idea how long i came baby, but it felt like forever. Usually when i am this turned on, i cum and pass out. Not this time! I was squirting and thrashing and fucking him back and totally over the edge of reason. Doni said my cunt was like a very strong, very soft milking machine that had incredible sucking power as it milked his cock.

I came until he came, then i finally passed out.

Lieza just told me i came for about ten or fifteen minutes continuously. I am black and blue and so stiff and boardy! God!

Lieza also told me that she is in her prime fertile time today, she just tested and her uterus temp is spiking.

Doni may have another child coming. Won't Daryl be surprised? If she IS preggers, I am going to induce lactation and be wet nurse to it. God that would be wonderful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love you both so much.
Deni

Females are genetically predisposed toward infidelity

Research is showing that females 'cheat' as much, or more, on their mates as men do. That number of spousal cheaters is apparently in the 70 percentile according to recent research. Ever wonder why?

Well, I figured it out this week. One of those ‘Aha-Insights’ that make you thump your forehead when you realize how perfectly obvious it is. . . . . . Once it finally dawns on you.

We have been told for decades that a man has a better chance of his genes being carried on down the historical gene pool if he successfully inseminates multiple women.

Well, if that reasoning works for men, it certainly works for women too!

Think about it. The women’s genes are also passed along with the babies she produces. So if she produces babies from more than one male (whether her mate knows it or not) her genes, in combination with the various encroaching males’ genes, are often superior to the genes of her spouse. If they ARE superior, then her gene line has been enhanced.

But even if the encroacher’s genes are inferior to her mate’s, the “legitimate baby” she produced with her mate still enhances her chances to pass her genes to succeeding generations. Kind of like having TWO six-shooters in a street gun battle instead of only one.

So here we are in the 2000s. And after millions of years, the most prevalent female genes remaining are from ancestors that “cheated” on their mate. Women who accepted non-spousal genes into her body and produced a non-spousal baby are by far the predominant female gene pool. It appears that “Cheating Genes” are Dominant Genes, and non-cheating genes are recessive.

As the woman’s offspring grew up, passing the predisposition to be promiscuous into the next generation, the more dominant “cheating genes” often made the superior humans in the next generation. Women mated with a good protector, but then enjoyed the males with the more dominant physical traits. Their offspring were then cared for by “Mr. Good Provider” but were genetically, more often than not, biologically from other men.

So the predisposition to fuck around on your mate is built into us. The biological drive to “fuck around” is obviously more than just sexual urges, even though that may be the apparent trigger. It comes right down to the ones that fuck around have a better chance of having surviving offspring several generations down the gene pool.

Why else would Mother Nature make us women so sexually responsive to males-not-our-mates? In fact, why would Mother Nature make women less and less sexually responsive to their mates as time passes? Yet when she is with a male-not-her-spouse, her libido suddenly springs forth full force again. The exhilaration of cheating, of accepting non-spousal sperm into our body, is so eternally erotic that we go to great lengths, often at great risk, to participate.

So my sexy sisters, should you accept your genetic predisposition and enjoy your sexuality? It is in your genes! It is in your genes to spread yourself around! It enhances the gene pool!



“Hey baby, come here honey. Your wife is gone for how long? . . . . . . . .. OH GOOD! My husband is gone too! Wow, let’s make beautiful baby music together! Come here honey, put him right inside here! OOOOooh been SO long since I had good sex!” Giggle

Touching a Man’s Penis

As women, we are usually at a loss as to how to touch a man’s penis in a way that is wonderfully pleasuring to him. Our man wants us to bring him to orgasm manually, but we have NO clue has to how to do that. How tightly do we hold his cock? How far up and down his shaft to we move our hands? How do we hold our hands on him as we stroke him?

Getting a man to experience orgasm as we touch him is often a lengthy process. We feel so clumsy about it, and we often ARE clumsy about it, that our arm wears out before he cums. Then in frustration he moves our hand aside and does it himself, right, the first time.

Now bear in mind, that every man does himself differently. They all have techniques that feel best to them. So you may have to experiment, ask questions (in a sexy tone) and watch how he does it himself. (A woman raptly watching him masturbate from close up is a real turn-on to a man). You may have to induce him to let you watch. Try offering to let him cum in your mouth or on your breasts as an inducement. Remember that as they get closer to cumming, they often change techniques. Watch for that. DON”T ask questions when he is close to cumming. Gently playing with his testicles as you watch is a great way to help out. Men love to hear us squeel in delight as they start to shoot.

So, if you can get your man to show you how HE does it, you are miles ahead! But in general, for a starter, try these things. Well . . . . . here is how I do it for my lover.

1) Place your body where you can rest your wrist on his hip or tummy and still be able to move your hand an inch and a half or two inches by flexing your wrist back and forth. This will help with your fatigue factor. I usually lie on my man’s right side, my shoulder about level with his, and I put my head on his shoulder or on the pillow beside his head. I use my right hand to stroke him. (I am right handed.)
2) Wrap your first finger and thumb around his cock shaft two inches below his glans (the cute little crown men have at the bottom of their little helmet). You will move your hand from that location up to just below his crown, but not over his crown. That is your stroking range. Readjust your position beside him so that you can move your hand up and down his cock this distance by simply flexing your wrist, your wrist and forearm resting on him. Remember, this may take awhile, so get comfy.
3) Stroke SLOW. Don’t wear yourself out by doing it fast. Nice slow movements up and down his shaft are the key. You will feel his cock continue to harden if you are going the right speed. If his cock begins to soften, you are doing it wrong (Make your fantasy more lurid, slow your speed, let your little finger caress his balls each time you come to the bottom of your stroke).
4) Breathe in his ear, and whisper sexual fantasies to him if you want to shorten the process. This is one reason you should have your head right next to his.
5) How tightly do you grip? Put three fingers in your mouth, and purse your lips around them. Now purse your lips (NOT your teeth) as tightly as you can. THAT is how tightly you should hold his shaft in your hand. If you are gripping it the right tightness, then you should feel the irregularities that lie under the skin of his penis. A man’s penis is not smooth under his skin! And the sensations my hand feels as it caresses his shaft, sensing the little bumps and textures there, is a real turn on for me. Enjoy!
6) When he is beginning to stiffen throughout his body, and breathing harder, DON”T speed up. Wait, make him ‘suffer’ as his body begins to beg for release. When his penis begins to swell slightly, and his balls begin to pulse, put your head in his lap and tell him out-loud to cum in your mouth. Then put your lips around his cock and enjoy his gift to you. You will feel his gratitude, you will see it in his eyes, you will experience it the next day, ALL day. Men love it when you are willing to take their cummies into your mouth and swallow them, or kiss him with it still in your mouth (ask first about that part). Personally, a man’s cum is my favorite food group, full of protein and goodness!

You my have heard about the woman that liked peanut butter so well she smeared it all over her husbands cock? She liked that so well that pretty soon she didn’t need the peanut butter . . . . . . .

An inside Tourists Report of the Katrina Aftermath

LARRY BRADSHAW and LORRIE BETH SLONSKY are emergency medical services (EMS)workers from San Francisco. They were attending an EMS conference in NewOrleans when Hurricane Katrina struck. They spent most of the next week
trapped by the flooding - and the martial law cordon around the city.

This is lengthy but [supposedly] from the pen of people who were there.

[I have edited it slightly, enclosed in brackets like the ones surrounding this paragraph. The bold and italic emphasis are also mine]

First By the Floods, Then By Martial LawTrapped in New Orleans

By LARRY BRADSHAWand LORRIE BETH SLONSKYSeptember 6, 2005

Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the Walgreens store at the corner of Royal and Iberville Streets in the city's historic FrenchQuarter remained locked. The dairy display case was clearly visible through the widows. It was now 48 hours without electricity, running water, plumbing, and the milk, yogurt, and cheeses were beginning to spoil in the 90-degree heat.The owners and managers had locked up the food, water, pampers and prescriptions, and fled the city.

Outside Walgreens' windows, residents and tourists grew increasingly thirsty and hungry. The much-promised [by state and local officials] federal, state and local aid never materialized, and the windows at Walgreens gave way to the looters. There was an alternative. The cops could have broken one small window and distributed the nuts, fruit juices and bottled water in an organized and systematic manner. But they did not. Instead, they spent hours playing cat and mouse, temporarily chasing away the looters.

We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and arrived home on Saturday. We have yet to see any of the TV coverage or look at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that there were no video images or front-page pictures of European or affluent white tourists looting theWalgreens in the French Quarter.

We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero" images ofthe National Guard, the troops and police struggling to help the "victims"of the hurricane. What you will not see, but what we witnessed, were the real heroes and sheroes of the hurricane relief effort: the working class of New Orleans.The maintenance workers who used a forklift to carry the sick and disabled. The engineers who rigged, nurtured and kept the generators running. The electricians who improvised thick extension cords stretching over blocks to share the little electricity we had in order to free cars stuck on roof top parking lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical ventilators and spent many hours on end manually forcing air into the lungs of unconscious patients to keep them alive. Doormen who rescued folks stuck in elevators. Refinery workers who broke into boat yards,"stealing" boats to rescue their neighbors clinging to their roofs in flood waters. Mechanics who helped hotwire any car that could be found to ferry people out of the city. And the food service workers who scoured the commercial kitchens, improvising communal meals for hundreds of those stranded.

Most of these workers had lost their homes and had not heard from membersof their families. Yet they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for the 20 percent of New Orleans that was not under water.

* * *

ON DAY TWO, there were approximately 500 of us left in the hotels in the French Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference attendees like ourselves and locals who had checked into hotels for safety and shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact with family and friends outside of NewOrleans. We were repeatedly told that all sorts of resources, including the National Guard and scores of buses, were pouring into the city. The buses and the other resources must have been invisible, because none of us had seen them.

We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our money and came upwith $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us out of the city. Those who didn't have the requisite $45 each were subsidized by those who did have extra money.We waited for 48 hours for the buses, spending the last 12 hours standing outside, sharing the limited water, food and clothes we had.

We created a priority boarding area for the sick, elderly and newborn babies. We waited late into the night for the "imminent" arrival of the buses. The buses never arrived. We later learned that the minute they arrived at the city limits, they were commandeered by the military.

By Day Four, our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was dangerously bad. As the desperation and despair increased, street crime as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels turned us out and locked their doors, telling us that "officials" had told us to report to the convention center to wait for more buses.

As we entered the center of the city, we finally encountered the National Guard. The guard members told us we wouldn't be allowed into the Superdome, as the city's primary shelter had descended into a humanitarian and health hell hole. They further told us that the city's only other shelter - the convention center - was also descending into chaos and squalor, and that the police weren't allowing anyone else in.

Quite naturally, we asked, "If we can't go to the only two shelters in the city, what was our alternative?" The guards told us that this was our problem - and no, they didn't have extra water to give to us.

This would be the start of our numerous encounters with callous and hostile "law enforcement."

* * *

WE WALKED to the police command center at Harrah's on Canal Street and were told the same thing - that we were on our own, and no, they didn't have water to give us. We now numbered several hundred.

We held a mass meeting to decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside the police command post. We would be plainly visible to the media and constitute a highly visible embarrassment to city officials.

The police told us that we couldn't stay. Regardless, we began to settle in and set up camp. In short order, the police commander came across the street to address our group. He told us he had a solution: we should walk to the Pontchartrain Expressway and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge to the south side ofthe Mississippi, where the police had buses lined up to take us out of the city.

The crowd cheered and began to move. We called everyone back and explained to the commander that there had been lots of misinformation, so was he sure that there were buses waiting for us?

The commander turned to the crowd and stated emphatically, "I swear to you that the buses are there."

We organized ourselves, and the 200 of us set off for the bridge with great excitement and hope. As we marched past the convention center, many locals saw our determined and optimistic group, and asked where we were headed. We told them about the great news. Families immediately grabbed their few belongings, and quickly, our numbers doubled and then doubled again. Babies in strollers now joined us, as did people using crutches, elderly clasping walkers and other people in wheelchairs.

We marched the two to three miles to the freeway and up the steep incline to the bridge. It now began to pour down rain, but it didn't dampen our enthusiasm.

As we approached the bridge, armed sheriffs formed a line across the foot of the bridge.

Before we were close enough to speak, they began firingtheir weapons over our heads.

This sent the crowd fleeing in various directions.

As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the sheriffs in conversation. We told them of our conversation with the police commander and the commander's assurances.

The sheriffs informed us that there were no buses waiting. The commander had lied to us to get us to move.

We questioned why we couldn't cross the bridge anyway, especially as there was little traffic on the six-lane highway. They responded that the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans, and there would be no Superdomes in their city. These were code words for: if you are poor and Black, you are not crossing the Mississippi River, and you are not getting out of NewOrleans.

* * *

OUR SMALL group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter from the rain under an overpass. We debated our options and, in the end, decided to build an encampment in the middle of the Ponchartrain Expressway - on the center divide, between the O'Keefe and Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasonedthat we would be visible to everyone, we would have some security being on an elevated freeway, and we could wait and watch for the arrival of the yet-to-be-seen buses.

All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make the same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, only to be turned away - some chased away with gunfire, others simply told no, others verbally berated and humiliated.

Thousands of New Orleaners were prevented and prohibited from self-evacuating the city on foot. Meanwhile, the only two city shelters sank further into squalor anddisrepair.

The only way across the bridge was by vehicle. We saw workers stealing trucks, buses, moving vans, semi-trucks and any car that could be hot wired. All were packed with people trying to escape the misery that NewOrleans had become.

Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water deliverytruck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting!

A mile or so down the freeway, an Army truck lost a couple of pallets of C-rations on a tight turn. We ferried the food back to our camp in shopping carts. Now - secure with these two necessities, food and water - cooperation, community and creativity flowered.

We organized a clean-up and hung garbage bags from the rebar poles. We made beds from wood pallets and cardboard. We designated a storm drain as the bathroom, and the kids built an elaborate enclosure for privacy out of plastic, broken umbrellas and other scraps.

We even organized a food-recycling system where individuals could swap out parts of C-rations (applesauce for babies and candies for kids!). This was something we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina. When individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant looking out for yourself.

You had to do whatever it took to find water for your kids or food for your parents. But when these basic needs were met, people beganto look out for each other, working together and constructing a community.

If the relief organizations had saturated the city with food and water in the first two or three days, the desperation, frustration and ugliness would not have set in.

Flush with the necessities, we offered food and water to passing families and individuals. Many decided to stay and join us. Our encampment grew to80 or 90 people.

From a woman with a battery-powered radio, we learned that the media was talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief and news organizations saw us on their way into the city. Officials were being asked what they were going to do about all those families living up on the freeway.

The officials responded that they were going to take care of us.

Some of us got a sinking feeling. "Taking care of us" had an ominous tone to it.

Unfortunately, our sinking feeling (along with the sinking city) was accurate.

Just as dusk set in, a sheriff showed up, jumped out of his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces and screamed, "Get off the f-ing freeway." A helicopter arrived and used the wind from its blades to blow away our flimsy structures.

As we retreated, the sheriff loaded up his truck with our food and water. Once again, at gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway.

All the law enforcement agencies appeared threatened [by us] when we congregated into groupsof 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims," they saw "mob" or"riot."

We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay together" attitude was impossible because the agencies would force us into small atomized groups. In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we scattered once again.

Reduced to a small group of eight people, in the dark, we sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the freeway on CiloStreet. We were hiding from possible criminal elements, but equally and definitely, we were hiding from the police and sheriffs with their martial law, curfew and shoot-to-kill policies.

The next day, our group of eight walked most of the day, made contact with the New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out by an urban search-and-rescue team.

We were dropped off near the airport and managed to catch a ride with theNational Guard. The two young guardsmen apologized for the limited response of the Louisiana guards. They explained that a large section of their unit was in Iraq and that meant they were short handed and were unable to complete all the tasks they were assigned.

* * *

WE ARRIVED at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun. The airport had become another Superdome.

We eight were caught in a press of humanity as flights were delayed for several hours while George Bush landed briefly at the airport for a photo op.

After being evacuated on aCoast Guard cargo plane, we arrived in San Antonio, Texas.

There, the humiliation and dehumanization of the official relief effort continued. We were placed on buses and driven to a large field where we were forced to sit for hours and hours. Some of the buses didn't have air conditioners.

In the dark, hundreds of us were forced to share two filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those who managed to make it out with any possessions (often a few belongings in tattered plastic bags) were subjected to two different dog-sniffing searches.

Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been confiscated at the airport - because the rations set off the metal detectors. Yet no food had been provided to the men, women, children, elderly and disabled, as we sat for hours waiting to be "medically screened" to make sure we weren't carrying any communicable diseases.

This official treatment was in sharp contrast to the warm, heart felt reception given to us by ordinary Texans. We saw one airline worker give her shoes to someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the street offered us money and toiletries with words of welcome.

Throughout, the official relief effort was callous, inept and racist.There was more suffering than need be.

Lives were lost that did not need to be lost.

An Email about Katrina, and my answer

--- "JOE M." wrote:

>
> Deni
>
> I would have sent this on Mind Candy but we are
> supposed to stay apolitical
>
> and I’m done joining blogs.
>
> STOP BLAMING THE VICTIMS!
>
> There is enough blame to go around but how and where
> were these victims to go?
>
> The average income of these people is 8000.00 a year
> Yes not a typo $8000.00 a year
>
> A lot of them were old and in failing health. They
> don’t have cars and depend on public transportation.
>
> Were Busses sent through these neighbor hoods? No!
> Were they told where to go and how they would be
> fed? No!
>
> You should be ashamed of yourself!
>
> Does Bush deserve all the blame? No! But to stay on
> vacation for days after the storm hit and sit on his
> ass and do nothing! He sure deserves a lot of the
> blame and I hope those thousands of dead haunt him
> for the rest of his life!
>
> Joe


Ashamed of myself? For pointing out that if you are not prepared for what mother nature sends at you, you die?

Come on Joe, if you are in the woods and Mother Nature sends you a hungry cougar, who's fault is it if you did not take a gun, or a spear, or a bow and arrow?

See, Mother Nature has more power than the government does.

Now as for blaming the people that died? If people do not take care of themselves, then THEY are responsible for what happens to them. If a person is enough of an idiot to build a house on a cliff that is crumbling, it is no ones fault but theirs if the cliff crumbles, and kills them and ruins their house.

That is why I have said that the storms crossing Florida are different than New Orleans. They KNEW in New Orleans that they were below sea level. They KNEW that the levees were old. They KNEW that the Corps of Engineers had said the levees would only hold up under a category THREE storm.

They KNEW Joe, but they did not leave. They trusted in government, and the government is a slow, bulky, expensive, non responsive monolith. If they are that unable to protect themselves, then Mother Nature removes them. That is called cleansing the Gene pool. Mother Nature does it in the wilds every day, all day. Wolves take down the slowest game. The strongest Bull Elk is the only one fucking the cows. Etc, etc, etc.

If you trust in government, then when Mother Nature has her little temper fit, YOU WILL DIE.

NOW . . . . I am not BLAMING them as in saying they SHOULD have died, I am holding them responsible for not taking responsibility for their own lives.

If they had, they would be alive. This was NOT an ACCIDENT. This was coming for decades. They were BORN knowing this would happen. Yet they did nothing to be ready. So they died, or lost their house and stuff. That is life . . . . . and the reason many people die. I wish it had not happened to them. But Mother Nature does not care about that.

Be warned.

The truth about Hurricane Katrina, and how she pisses me off

I was watching sixty minutes tonight (9/4/05) and man did I get pissed off! It isn't bad enough that some "important" idiot blames a US president for a hurricane. That just shows how STUPID the man saying it really is, even if he IS a rich Kennedy!

OK. Let’s look at what happened, the WHOLE thing, not just the poor people that are dead. All right?

1.) Not one person in New Orleans was there because they were being forced to live there. This is America, we CHOOSE where to live. And we are actually free to MOVE anytime we choose to.

2) New Orleans has been below the level of the ocean for decades. Has ANY one done anything about it? NO! Not one politician, not one resident has ever taken it upon themselves to say with determination "WHOA! Let’s think this through! Let’s not keep building BELOW sea level. WE could have a hurricane and all die!"

3) NOW they HAVE a hurricane. Not a little one, but a category FIVE hurricane. That means your car can be blown over and shuffled around like a child’s toy. That means the wind can pick up a truck trailer and blow it across town. They had two days notice that the storm was coming their way. Did they leave town KNOWING THAT "TOWN" WAS BELOW SEA LEVEL?

NO!!!!!!!!! They hunkered down in their ramshackle houses, and their upscale expensive houses, their buildings that had been built in a community that believes building codes are something to be ignored, or bribed around, not complied with. It is common knowledge that a few bucks buys a pass when the building inspector comes around to "inspect" in New Orleans.

4) And these people that have used no logic at all in making the choices that could have saved their lives, believe that the levies were made without the inspectors being paid off! Somehow THAT part of construction in New Orleans was done right, no corners were cut building them, right? And the levees were strong and properly designed, properly constructed, and properly maintained! Right? Yeah right!

I have a bridge I want to sell to these people!

Do I feel compassion for them, with their problems and deaths and pain and suffering? OF COURSE I DO.

But that is what pissed me off when I was watching sixty minutes. The incredibly callus and smug 60 minutes guy, is intimating that the government was slow getting to New Orleans, and that it was the federal governments fault that people died.

HELLO! You people down there just had one the most destructive forces in the world strike your corrupt city. . . . . . AFTER being warned for two days. Too few people left. The levees, under the control of the local government failed. But that was the federal government’s fault? Right?

It is currently so fashionable to blame everything on someone else, and to NEVER take responsibility for our own actions.

So do I feel sorry for t hem? YEAH! But is it someone else’s fault that they died? I think not.

Now WE all get to pay to put a city back where it should not have been built in the first place, rebuilt as the inspectors get paid off and sub-standard levees are again rebuilt and repaired due to the same corrupt situation.

Are you Making Love, or Having Sex, or just Fucking? Further Thoughts

I have received a number of comments regarding a previous article “Are you Making Love, or Having Sex, Or Just Fucking?”

One of the issues that came up was, in a Dominant/submissive relationship, or a cuckolding relationship, where one person is in control of the other one, is that still "Making Love"? Is there still “farming” going on in the sexual component of the involved lovers?

At first I was of the opinion that no, there was not, it was a duality of one partner having sex (fishing) and that the other partner was just fucking (hunting) their partner.

However, after thinking at length about this, I have changed my mind.

This morning, as I was soaping myself in the shower I decided to slap my clittie a bit, just like my beloved Lieza does to me sometimes. I love the way “she” wiggles when Liez does that to me. So then it struck me (pardon the pun) that when Lieza does that to me, I welcome it, I like it, I adore how it feels to have her do that to me. So even though she is being perhaps a bit unconventional as she “makes love to me” that way, it is consensual, it is welcome, and it makes me feel loved by her. She on the other hand, loves doing it to me, she knows I love her doing it, and she does it because she enjoys it.

So there the answer was! We were actually making love to each other, even though in that case she was Domme and I was submissive to her, receiving what could easily be regarded as abuse in other relationships. But it was a fulfilling and loving thing she was doing it to me. I wanted it, and I appreciate her doing it.

"Never" say NO in the Bedroom!

Most frustration and boredom in a relationship starts with the two letter word: "NO!" Now we all know that that word may come in many formats, like a frosty glare, a bored sigh, a look that says "You want to do what?" or even an indiscreet "FUCK You asshole!"

But in essence, it is the same thing. “We ain’t goin there buddy, forget it!” And just like that, one more trowel of mortar and a brick goes onto the walls we build between the ones we love and ourselves. Divorce is built out of one comment, one action, at a time, repeated over and over. Each time you shut down your loved down, the end of the relationship is just that much closer.

In relationships with a Taker, the “No!”s are frequent and close together. With Givers, the “No!”s are usually farther apart, and there is often time for the recipients of the “No!”s to recover, even heal. Still, . . . . enough “No!”s and the relationship will crumble. Maybe not a divorce, but perhaps it will evidence itself in an affair, or “erectile dysfunction” (love that euphemism for rejection) or some other symptom of dismissal.

So what are the alternatives to “No!”s?

‘Basic Problem Solving 101’ tells us to first analyze the evidence. In other words, WHY did you say “NO!”? This takes honesty, brutal self honesty. Do you need to be in control, and saying “NO!” is how you do it? Or are you afraid of pain? Or perhaps you are hurting from some other previous incident and are saying “NO!” to get back at your partner. There are probably a thousand other reasons as well. But the real question is “Is it worth the rejection you are dishing out on your partner, . . . . . in the long run?”

Step Two is to brainstorm other solutions that do not include the rejection. Let’s say you are being asked by your partner to allow him to penetrate your anus. Just before you blurt out “NO!” you realize that your instant willingness to refuse him was because you are afraid it will hurt too much. After telling your partner the reason that you are hesitant to go along with their fantasy, you might suggest “I will try it with you if you let me be in control of the penetration speed and depth, so I can make sure you stop if it starts to hurt too bad, OK?” That way, even if it does end up hurting way too badly to consummate their fantasy, your partner knows you really did try for them. And they will not take that as a rejection. One less brick in our wall.

So, when you suddenly discover you have been saying “NO!”, and the reason for the discovery is a set of divorce-papers served on you, or you discover their illicit affair, don’t blame your spouse, be honest and have enough integrity to analyze whether it was really your own doing!

The War of the Worlds. alternate ending

I went to see the War of the Worlds last night with Lieza. Scared the stuffins out of me.

BUT! . . . . .

I was just wondering why H. G. Wells didn’t have the aliens that wanted our world so much just take earth way back when they put all those Tripods underground millions of years ago when only sticks and stone would break their bones?

They spent billions of their own money on such an undertaking (let it sit un-invested for millions of earth years). If they had simply invested that money, they would have owned earth lock stock and barrel by now. Free and clear, titled, deeded and theirs.

So I disagree with the guy that went nuts (and Tom Cruise, bless his heart and cock, had to shut the door before he killed him to keep the PG rating) that said it was an extermination.

I think they had set this ole Earth up as a hunting preserve. I bet all the helmet headed creatures had each paid huge bucks to come hunt us, shoot the shit out of everything, and go home with trophies.

Kind of like catching yellow-fever and sleeping-sickness when you go to Africa to hunt Water Buffalo and Springboks.

I have seen things die in strange ways before, but never had to watch their bum open and disgorge their final meals!

Are you Making Love, or Having Sex, or just Fucking?

There are basically three different attitudes that people have during sex. More specifically, attitudes toward their partner, as they have sex.

They can be categorized, perhaps ‘summed-up’ is a better term, in three very different words, all prepositions.

When you and your partner have intercourse, are you doing ‘it’
TO them, or
FOR them, or
WITH them?

If indeed you are doing it WITH them, then you ARE “making love”. You will probably have an orgasm, you will both probably say “I love you” after the fireworks (and mean it), and you are probably fairly happy in your relationship.

If instead you are doing it FOR them, then the odds are high that you are non-orgasmic, or way too tired, or not turned on by them. You are pretending. You are basically not being honest with the person that is sexing you. Your partner is most likely frustrated, and will in all likelihood have an affair in the near future with someone else.

If you are doing it TO them, then your partner is most likely not a very sexual person. They may deliberately not allow themselves to feel like a sexual being, or they may have religious beliefs about the supposed depravity of enjoying sex, or they may feel trapped in the relationship with you. . . . . . Or, you may so over-power your partner’s needs that you are disregarding their feelings. Either way, you are both probably pretty unhappy.

If categorized in my three favorite ways of looking at human relationships, Hunting, Farming, and Fishing, the following could be said:

If you typically Hunt people, you will most likely do it TO them. Hunting people kills relationships. Hunting results in a kill, when successful. And the fatality in a sexual relationship is the love your partner feels for you.

If you typically Farm people, you will most likely do it WITH them. This is called True Love, results in grateful giving, and satisfies the deepest needs of both partners.

If you typically Fish people, you will most likely do it FOR them. People who Fish others are passive wall flowers that cannot be assertive regarding their own needs. Eventually, the passive one becomes disenchanted with the relationship and withdraws further and further until there are two old people sitting other their porch in rockers, dour looks on their faces, never talking to each other. And then they die. And no one knows what saying to put on their gravestone.

Raising Children the Natural Way

First comes Dr. Spock, telling us not to spank our children. Then, later, the political correctness group starts beating us over the head with the idea that children should never have to learn things "the hard way."

“Protect their egos” we were manipulated into believing.

Don’t let them work until they are older. Not until their young personalities have been fully formed, formed believing that productive work is an unnecessary activity.

Don’t keep track of a children’s game score . . . . because it causes the less talented child to feel badly. For God’s sake!

Then the insurance companies got into the act. Line the kids up whenever they move around. Make sure no kid has any ability to express creativity. STAY IN LINE!

Thinking outside the box is severely punished, by mental abuse, not physical. Ostracism replaces physical punishment.

Did you know that at the age of five, ninety five percent of children are considered highly creative?

By the age of seven (two years in our conformist factories), that percentage has been reduced to under 50%.

By the tender young age of ten, we have trained all but 5% of our children to color inside the lines, conform no matter what, and be utterly ashamed of any thing that resembles creativity.

We remove anything from our playgrounds that could hurt our children, like swing-sets and merry-go-rounds. We don’t let them use any athletic equipment that could in any way injure them. We take dodge-ball out of our gymnasium programs. It goes on and on.

Well, go out in Mother Nature’s world. Watch how the animals (other than the human animal) learn! Survival of the fittest is Mother Nature’s way. Get slower than the wolves and you are food for them. Break a leg and the other rams will bludgeon you to death at worst, at best you will just never again mate with another female. Survival of the fittest. Cleansing of the gene pool. Mother Nature keeps herself fit and lean that way.

Now we human’s are certain we can thwart her. We think we can molly-coddle and protect and look out for our own, and not allow them to learn in Mother Nature’s tried and true way of teaching.

We thumb our noses at the very natural ways that our species arrived at where it was just 100 years ago.

Yeah, right! I shudder to think what will finally happen to us as we stray further and further from Mother Nature’s tried and true ways.

Our gene poll continues to permit, protect, and even assure survival of those Mother Nature, in her ultimate wisdom has clearly shown should not survive.

Do NOT misunderstand me. I am not “Pro” or “Anti” abortion. But by removing the natural results of the tragedy of unwanted pregnancy, we once again thumb our noses at Mother Nature.

At our distinct peril; the distinct peril to our whole species.

Guys, Get the Skid Out of Your SHORTS!

She was breathing hard as her hand reached for his fly. This was to be their very first intimate sexual encounter together! This night had been a long time coming, and they were both incredibly excited!

Slowly, she lowered his zipper, then moved his jeans down his hips, watching with huge, wide, excited eyes as the bulk of his cock bulged against his whitey-tighty underwear.

She was on her knees, so excited about seeing him for the first time. Would he be perfect? Would he be just the right size? What would he taste like, smell like? Did he use talcum powder? How would his testicles look? Would they be soft and wonderfully kissable?

Breathless, she pulled his underwear down. His beautiful cock sprang out! THERE IT WAS! At last!

She smiled, Then saw the skid in his shorts! And SMELLED it!

The look on her face said it all!

Well, you can imagine how enjoyable it was for her after that! And you really want her to kiss and suck on what has been dragging though the shit in your drawers? And SMELLS like shit?

Get a grip mister! On your HYGIENE, not her head . . . . . .

So you, like most men, are mystified by how “it” gets there? You wipe until nothing shows on the TP, right? . . . . And it STILL shows up?

Well, buddy, today is your lucky day. I am going to tell you how to NEVER have skid in your shorts again!



Lets talk first about what that little poop chute of yours is like INSIDE.

If you were to look at your bum with a mirror, you would see your anal opening. It looks like it is closed. And for the most part, it is! BUT, . . . . INSIDE that cute little rose of yours is a little chamber, at the top of which is a sphincter muscle. This interior sphincter muscle, called the “Lifting Muscle”, is what actually holds your “loafs” inside your poop chute until you relieve yourself (“take a shit” for some of you). This chamber between your anus and your “Lifting Muscle” is about the same length as the length from the tip of your middle finger to the second knuckle.

Now, when you “pinch your loaf” as you sit on the toilet, the pinching actually occurs at TWO points. It occurs at both the bunghole opening you can see in your mirror, and also at that interior Lifting Muscle sphincter. So you often end up with about two inches of poop inside your butt.

Didn’t even know it was there, did you?

Well, when that sexy butt of yours moves, it massages that little chamber. And as you use your butt muscles (your gluteus maximus muscles) they periodically squeeze your little chamber with sufficient force to push some of your yucky fecal material out of your bung hole. And from there it is only a short distance to your shorts.

So that is how it gets there in your underwear, DESPITE your best efforts to wipe it all away when you are in the restroom.



So how do you stop that from happening? Simple! But it does require you to change how, and WHAT, you wipe. EVERY TIME!

You must cleanse that little chamber of the fecal material that gets trapped in there! EVERYTIME!

Let’s talk about how to do that.



We already know that that little chamber is the length of the very part of your hand that you ALREADY wipe with. If you could get your middle finger inside that little chamber, you could swab it out! The problem becomes not rubbing blisters on your bung hole as you accomplish that swabbing out.

The way to do that is to WET the TP before you insert it into you. The water does two things. First, it acts as a lubricant on the TP to stop it from abrading your bunghole. Second, it allows you to actually WASH your inner body.

The easiest way to wet the TP is to choose a toilet that is beside a sink, or bath tub. Simply wet the TP each time before you swab it up inside you. You may have to adjust the amount of TP you use with each wipe. And the number of squares of TP you will need depends on what type it is. Single ply TP takes more squares than double ply. But even between brands, the optimum number of squares varies. So just experiment until you find the right number of squares. You will know you have it right by how easy it goes into you and still keeps your finger from getting soiled. As a starting point, Charmin brand double ply toilet paper will be about right with four squares.

The only real hitch occurs when you are in a toilet stall that has no sink. In that case you have to use the water in the toilet bowl. I know, not optimum, but not as bad as having smelly ugly shit in your drawers.

So with a toilet with no other source of water, make sure you flush the toilet before you sit down. That will usually clean the bowl of the toilet pretty well. And then flush again after you have deposited your poop into the bowl. Then you can, without touching the sides, dip the TP into the clean water in the bowl, and wet it that way.

Inserting your middle finger into you, continue to swab out your little chamber until NO fecal material shows on the paper. This can take awhile, depending on your diet. And believe me; your wives will thank you for doing this. It makes wash day so much more pleasant.

Well, it is as simple as that. And you will have much better luck getting the “Head” that you all love so much . . . . giggle

I am SO TIRED of being lied to

I sometimes wonder just how incredibly stupid the news media thinks we are.

I remember a number of years ago, I attended a presentation by a candidate for county commissioner. The presentation was a long term plan for solving the traffic problems of my home town. And I was duly impressed by the ideas the candidate had.

The next day I read the article that the local paper had written regarding this meeting that I had attended. Then, on the editorial page the editor had written an editorial focusing on the meeting.

I read both, and I did not even recognize the meeting that I had attended! I heard with my own ears the ideas of this candidate. The resulting article was so terribly negative, utterly wrong, and outright misleading.

I have never taken that paper since.

[I did exact revenge for the personal attentions I got from that newspaper’s owner last year! Giggle]

Just a side note before I continue. GUESS WHAT WAS JUST COMPLETED TWO YEARS AGO! Yep! That wonderful plan that the candidate for county commissioner put forward! Yep! The newspaper was totally against it, until their main advertiser changed their mind, then they were suddenly for it.

And so it is with the lies we read daily in most of the media these days. They call it news, and print it in a “NEWSpaper”, but it is nothing more than their personal opinion!

And they don’t’ even have the guts to say so.

If you asked me if I were a republican or a democrat, I would say neither. I, like most of the people in this country, am a “middle of the roader.”

And maybe that is why I HATE the lies told daily, constantly, by the far wings of the right and the left.

Give me a break! I DO have intelligence. Treat me like I have a brain, and I will vote for you. But keep feeding me the lies most of you are feeding me now, and I will work my tail off to ruin your political ambitions.

Personally, the ONLY person in politics I admire most right now is Condoleezza Rice. She seems to me to tell us, and the world’s leader’s, the truth, unvarnished, direct, and it seems to me, honest! What a wonderful combination! She is a concert quality musician, highly intelligent, and ever so up-front. May she live a long, prosperous life, and stick around to lead us honorably for a long time!

http://www.wtv-zone.com/Mary/THISWILLMAKEYOUPROUD.HTML

Flirting, Stage Two, for Men

So! You have finally made contact! (See previous article)

Not with a killer one liner, which never works anyway, but by farming your "intended friend" a bit as you two, over a few hours, become speaking acquaintances.

Now comes the time to begin talking to each other.

A word of warning here. If you are looking for a long term relationship, drop any idea of taking her to bed tonight! It does happen, but the relationship rarely survives.

“So what!” you ask me? Well, stop reading any further because this article is not about seduction, it is about flirting, good old fashioned flirting, the kind where both parties grow to care about each other. Not the quickie slam bam thank you ma’am of the current generation. If you wish, you can console yourself by realizing that long term friendships are really the best sex anyway.

So what do you talk about those first few hours anyway?

You talk about HER!

With your head inclined forward, look her in the eye. Continue to look her in the eye as she talks. Ask her questions like “What is your favorite color, animal, food, movie, song, movie star, car, etc.” Ask her about her childhood, her family, her relationship history, her friends. Do you get the point?

And if she asks you about YOU, limit your answer to four informative sentences, then ask about her again.

And be honest, brutally honest. If she asks something you would rather not answer just yet, tell her so. Tell her “I would rather not answer that question until we know each other better.”

Do NOT be afraid to talk about your fears. Or your past. She is going to find out sooner or later anyway, so get it out on the table. Gauge her reaction.

And at this stage of a relationship (brand NEW) you should already be looking for any tell-tale signs of incompatibility, or a Taker.

A Taker is a person that does not give easily and naturally. If you are a giver, then being around a Taker feels great, . . . . for awhile. But then, and pretty darn soon, you start feeling taken advantage of. And you ARE being taken advantage of!

The only relationship that feels good forever is one between two givers. Takers will never be happy. Nor will a giver who is with a Taker be happy very long. That relationship mix just will not work out, long term.

If indeed YOU are the Taker . . . I feel sorry for you and the people around you. YOU are miserable, and THEY are miserable. So change yourself. It is hard, very hard, to become a giver if you are by nature a Taker, but it can be done, and it is the only way for you to ever become happy!

About Bullies . . . . . of ALL kinds

I grew up on a school playground, just like most of you did. And like most of you, I ran into my share of bullies. I hated them. I feared them. I wished over and over they would leave me alone. I was small as a child, just like I am small as an adult.

Well, one day I took matters into my own hands, so to speak. It wasn't as if I had thought this through, mind you, but it still worked, even if it was spontaneous.

I was in the third grade. One of the bullies walked up behind me and grabbed me around my chest. I suddenly bent over from the waist and KA_BOOOOOOM! He was on the ground in front of me on his back! His eyes, huge and round, were looking up at me in utter astonishment! No one, especially a pipsqueak like me had ever dared to defy him! He got up, dusted himself off, and said “Wow! You know what you are doing!” He turned around and walked off and NEVER bothered me again!

I learned something that day.

In the past I had tried every thing I could think of to get him to leave me alone. My mother told me to ignore him. That sure as hell didn’t work! If anything, he pestered me even more, missing the attention I paid to him when I actively hated him. My daddy told me to always stay in groups with other friends. That didn’t work either. He just barged in and made my friends miserable too. So then THEY started to give ME the cold shoulder. My older brother told me to turn him in to the teacher. The teacher was ineffective with him, because she had no means of punishing him for bad behavior. She was a toothless tiger. So after she talked to him, he got pissed and beat me up.

It was not until I took matters into my own hands, and met him with force, that he stopped bullying me.

And now, today, as I read and see the bullies that call themselves Jihad, and Islamic Fundamentalists, and other idiotic names, I think the same thing. They are willing to kill, maim, and have temper tantrums in front of the whole world! But they are just bullies! Mean tempered, infantile, immature asshole bullies.

And just like the bullies in my school yard, there is no way to placate them, because they intend to kill every one else in the world that does not agree with them. Other Muslims included! What kid of insanity is this?

I have a plaque on my wall. It gives Einstein’s definition of Insanity. Know what it says?

“Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting different results.”

Well, just how insane are we?

Encouraging Your Man's Stable Erection

Do you wish your lover, whether he be your hubby, or boyfriend, or just a one night stand, would have a nice steel-hard erection?

It is the woman’s obligation to make sure the man is sexually stimulated enough to be able to maintain that erection you want. Well, lets talk about a man’s erection a bit before we talk about helping him “get it up.”

The human male is the only mammal that does not have a bone in his penis. Did you know that? Every other mammal has a bone in their penis that aids in both achieving penetration and maintaining a penetrative erection inside the female of the species. Human males do not have that little “advantage”.

The human penis consists of three “columns” of spongy tissue that, when filled with blood, engorge. As the male is stimulated enough, the engorging causes both extension and swelling.

In the animal kingdom, the stimulus for said swelling and extension is triggered by smell. That is mostly not true of the human male though. For instance, a male dog’s nose is generally about 100 times more sensitive than a human male’s nose. We do emit pheromones on a limited scale, and they can trigger subconscious lust when we breathe them in, but when we get to the erection stage, the pheromones have pretty much become a non-issue. From thereon out, it is the human mind that maintains a male’s erection.

Our lovers have to be mentally stimulated to achieve ejaculation (cum, in other words). Indeed, they HAVE to stay MENTALLY stimulated to maintain their erection. Let your man become bored in the bedroom, and pretty soon his erection will have a dysfunction. The dysfunction is YOU! YOU have not done your part to keep his attention focused on staying nice and hard.

Well, here are a few of my tricks to make that happen:

1) This tip will seem like it is so obvious once you think about it. Caress his body! Find his hot spots. Typical hot spots for men are nipples, back, lips, butts, neck, ears, back of his neck, as well as the old tried and true touch: his cock and balls. Other places he will love to be touched are his perineum (between his balls and butt hole), his anal rose, and the back of his knees.
2) Talk to him in language that is filled with “four letter words”. Tell him of your excitement. Tell him how you like to be touched, in graphic terms. Tell him how good he makes you feel when he suckles or kisses, pulls and twists you. Tell him how good it feels when he puts his mouth to your vaginal opening. Teach him how to pleasure you best orally. Guide his hands, his mouth, his cock.
3) Tell him your fantasies. Urge him to tell you his. Act out his fantasies. Act out yours. Be honest about what you think about , and don’t spare the four letter words . . . . or the details. Wonderfully lurid details of your fantasy are key.
4) If you are not good at fantasies, or just to stave off any chance of boredom, find some erotica and read it to him as you are making love, or teasing each other sexually. Act out the stories.
5) Visit theatres and shops that specialize in sex paraphernalia, videos and dildos and that sort of thing. (Get over your embarrassment about it! It is FUN!)
6) Urge him on in lurid detail as you and he get close to orgasms. Use four letter words as you tell him you are going to cum from his big fucking cock, for example.
7) Tell him the truth, that his cock size is, or is not, an issue. But be honest about it. The Kama Sutra describes our vagina (the book calls them our “Yoni”) as either Rabbits, Does, or Elephants. Which size comparison is realistic for yours? Does your lover’s equipment match in size? Tell him, one way or another. But be honest. Don’t make him wonder. If his is to big, or too small, tell him. Work out a satisfactory way of having sex that takes that into consideration.
8) Get good at giving blow jobs to completion. That is one of my favorite things to do. I love to catch my man soft, and suckle him to hardness.
9) Find a position that you both enjoy without stressing him out. For example, the tried and true “missionary position” puts a huge strain on a man’s musculature. If you wear him out by forcing him to hold himself up while he enjoys you, he will be more apt to NOT stay erect. His blood is being used to feed his muscles and cool him. Either way, his erection can soften and disappear.
10)Keep him cool. If your lover overheats, his blood will go to his skin to try to cool him. That causes him to loose his hard-on.
11) Discuss threesomes, gang bangs, or whatever is in your fantasy honestly and openly. If you would like to have him share you, or you want to share him, go ahead and do it. The Bible says it is OK! Honest! It even says it is OK for you to enjoy another woman! Fulfill your fantasies with your lover present. Let him watch and/or participate.

I hope you can learn to enjoy your lover. But just remember . . . it is your responsibility to arrive at the Palace of Sex ready and willing to participate fully. It is YOUR responsibility to keep his prick hard as steel if that is what you like.

Take the responsibility for it and be forever rewarded. Do NOT blame him for your OWN failings.

Erectile Dysfunction

My GOD! How many times do we have to watch the ads about "ED"? ED, as in Erectile Dysfunction. And that one about "if in the rare instance an erection lasts longer than four hours . . . ."! Oh my god, how stupid is that? I bet the ad guy (or gal) that thought that one up got a raise (pardon the pun)

Well, I spent a good part of the 4th of July weekend with a man (Doni) I highly respect. So I asked him about this ED thing. Here is what he told me.

Hmm, where to start? Lets start with some of the reasons, BESIDES A PHYSICAL ABNORMALITY, that ED occurs, in Doni’s opinion. (The reasons and substantiation will come later, here are the things he listed)

First: Wives actually, over a period of time, train their husbands NOT to respond sexually to their wives.

Second: Men get tired of always being told they are wrong.

Third: Many women stop taking care of their bodies after they “have their man”.

Fourth: Women ‘play games’ with sex.

Fifth: Most wives are HORRIBLE in bed.



OK, let’s talk about these one by one.

First: Wives actually, over a period of time, train their husbands to NOT respond sexually to them. A very high percentage of women are so out of tune with their bodies that they do not even feel the inner physical needs of sex. Nor do they know how to arouse themselves. So they use the age old excuse of “He just is out of touch with my feelings” or some other variant of that to blame the WOMAN’S PROBLEM on their man.

Then they discover their own sexuality, and suddenly they want their man to be sexually responsive to them. But they have spent years, maybe even decades, turning him off, and because he wants to please his wife, he does everything he can to comply. Pretty soon his willy stops responding to his wife. And then the wife her husband, tries to make it HIS fault AGAIN! The fucking bitches. Pardon me . . .

Second: Men get tired of always being told they are wrong. So they stop wanting to be around a woman that tries so hard to train him into being a subservient idiot.

There is a sign I see hanging in so many men’s offices these days. It says:

“If a man was alone in the woods, and he said something, would he still be wrong?”

How much more perfectly can it be said? That little question really says it all. It perfectly describes how frustrated men are with their marriages, with their wives, and with women in general. And it does not just happen in their marriage, it happens on 90% of the ads you see on TV, or hear on radio. Ads these days portray a man as an idiot controlled by, and saved from himself, by his wife.

That is absolutely sick!

Ladies, let me tell you something, men are intelligent, hard working, honest, and caring people. Any woman that treats their man with respect and admiration for the unique hard working person he is will NOT have a problem with ED in the bedroom, short of some physical abnormality. So get your act together.


Third: Many women stop taking care of their bodies after they “have their man”. Not only does their weight balloon, not only does their muscle tone atrophy, not only do they become overbearing assholes, but they stop washing their pussies! God, nothing smells worse than a dirty pussy! Can you blame a man that says “No way!” when she opens her thighs to him and her odor knocks him over?

Exercise ladies! Get into a weight control program, and NEVER get out of it. 24/7/365 is what it takes to be a sexy curvy woman. Not an ounce less effort will do.

AND, while you are exercising your body, DO NOT FORGET your pussy muscles! Your pussy muscles are what make it feel good to a man! Exercise them! Make them fit and toned and strong.

What????????????? Ashamed of talking about your pussy? Get over it! Men like to talk about your pussy. They would LOVE to hear YOU talk about your pussy! Every time you deny them the ability to hear you discuss sex, and your pussy, and their cock, and fucking, they begin to sense that you do not enjoy sex. By doing so, you push them away. You turn them off, little by little, refusal by refusal. After a few years, they have Erectile Dysfunction WITH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not with other women, WITH YOU!

And your pussy smell? If you can’t even take the time to deep clean your pussy before you have sex, then shame on you!

Women in the bible were viewed as being “unclean”. Why do you suppose that was? Well, I suspect that the nomadic life the early Israelite peoples led did not allow the women to wash their pussies very often. And a dirty pussy is a really ugly thing, smell wise. So the male dominated society declared them unclean. They WERE unclean!

Has your man declared YOU unclean in his mind, and therefore does whatever he can to not have to smell your odor?

Now, how about the shape of your body? Is it the same shape as the one he fell in love with? Have you changed? Has your body shaped changed? Fess up now. Who is it that is holding a gun to your head, and every time you try to say “no”, FORCES you to eat anyway?


Fourth: Women play games with sex. They use sex as a means of gaining control. They want to control the check book, they want to control his free time. And most of all, they want to get their own way. Everytime! EVERY time!

Well ladies, if your man is even the slightest bit passive aggressive, his cock will wilt in a heart beat when you pull that shit! You may have control of the check book, but his cock says “Go fuck your SELF!”


Fifth: Most women are HORRIBLE in bed. They have no clue how to have sex (OK call it “make love”) in a way that is satisfying to a man. Women won’t say “four letter words” (oh my, isn’t that delicate!). Women won’t even think about sucking their man’s cock, and if they do deign (for a short period) to do so, FORGET about allowing their man to cum in their mouth for god’s sake!

And the idea of letting your man watch you masturbate? On my god! Is that not on the list of the ten things you absolutely refuse to do? Be honest!

When was the last time you got yourself all turned on so that you were on hair trigger? Got YOUR SELF turned on to where all he had to do was touch you and you exploded? Never you say? Never done that? Tut, tut, tut!

Do you want some help learning how to turn your man on? READ PORN! WATCH PORN! Not rape movies, not gross no-plot crap! But good well written stories written or acted by someone that enjoys sex. Watch what men really like. Watch w hat men crave to have form their wives. Hey! There is an idea, take a porno home and watch it with your man. I bet he gets a hard on! Or read an erotic story to him as you touch yourself!

You could even ASK your man to teach you how to please him! It will probably take a while before he trusts you enough to even venture into that conversation with you, but believe me, he KNOWS what HE likes!

Do you?

Counting Orgasms

One of the things that is frustrating when you look back on a weekend or night of unbridled sex is remembering how many times you came.

Is that a problem with you? For some reason I like to know how many times I came. I like to keep track of records. Like, what is the highest number of times I ever came from one sex session? I know it is over twenty, but it got blurry after that.

And how do you divide up a really long orgasm into its separate orgasms? If I cum continuously for over ten minutes, is that only one orgasm? Or can I say an orgasm lasts for only one minute, so that after “minute one” were nine more orgasms? What about when you have peaks and valley, but you are still cumming? Is that more than one?

For instance, with men, it is easy. They cum and shoot their white tasty goo. That is an orgasm for males. But with women, under the skilled hands of a consummate lover, a woman can cum for a long, long time, and many times, over and over.

So how do I count orgasms? Let's say my lover makes me cum for an hour and a half continuously, but he only cums once. Do I look at him and say, I only came once too? That is hardly fair!

I think we need to have a world summit at the UN and solve this. It is much more important than most of the other crapola that they talk about.

What's Love got to do with it? A LOT!

I spent the first two nights of the 4th of July weekend with my lovers Doni, Lieza, and Linda. We had a fantastic time. Poor Doni was surrounded by women. And for the first time since my surgery, I could be sexy and free. And I was. Poor Doni came and came and came and came and came. His testicles were the size of peanuts when we "turned him loose" to go back to his wife on Sunday.

And his scrotum was hairless. So was his cock. Yep! We three women got him into the tub and plucked him. He was a bit tense when we started, but he soon had a hard-on going big time as we all enjoyed handling him.

So if any of you want to know, from a man's point of view, how it is to be plucked, ask him!

I suspect he will be back for more in a few weeks.............