post-coital thoughts: Viagra is the last of the miracle
drugs... enabling the blind to walk, the lame to see,
the limp to fuck
all night long. I know I'll be spending all my Social
Security check (should I live that long, with the Republicans
pushing back the retirement age to like 85, or something)
on Viagra...if I have to camp under a bridge and push
a shopping cart around to afford the big V...I'll do
it just for the wood....Over any appreciable length
of time, things never get any better. Look at this year's
summer movies so far: Pearl Harbor, Swordfish, Tomb
Raider. Hell, an Ernest Goes to the
Jack Shack would look good about now. And speaking
of the above, Angelina Jolie's Tomb Raider breasts
are accomplished via special effects, otherwise known
as She's Stuffed, you moron. That is not a boob job.
Which brings to mind: Didn't Demi Moore's career go
tits-up after she carved herself up for her role in
the abominable Striptease? You don't have to
have big tits to succeed in Hollywood. Look at Audrey
Hepburn at the height of the Jayne Mansfield/Marilyn
Monroe breasts-as-torpedos era.
Which brings me to the subject matter
at hand: boobs. If you're a leg man, as I am, you probably
like them small, unobtrusive--i.e., more than a mouthful
is wasted. But if you're a breast man, she could be
in a wheelchair for all you care, as long as she's got
fuckin' tits out to here. Personally, I think big boobs
are for, well, big boobs. Cro-Magnon Man. It's like,
you just got off the tit a couple days ago, left home,
learned how to chew gum and now you want big breasts
to remind you of the safety of mom. Let's face it, to
an infant, any sized breast looks really big when it's
being pressed against its tiny face. I think the natural
evolution for men is: in high school, you start off
with a fixation on breasts, because wow!, they're really
cool. You can pinch 'em, tug 'em, suck 'em, slap' em,
tweak 'em, slap yourself silly with 'em , fuck 'em,
cum on 'em and marvel at how they get bigger before
her "moon time" each month.
But as the male matures, I think it's
rather stilted for him to remain focused on breasts--sort
of like only eating chocolate ice cream or just jerking
off with your dominant hand. Natural Selection urges
man's anatomical attention to wander, move on to different
body parts--perhaps in a descending order from the nipple
on down. Let's take stomachs for example. How many of
you men have truly admired the glory, vulnerability,
softness and cum-collecting qualities of a taut, gently
rounded tummy tucked in just-so at the navel? Or, restricted
and defined that tummy with garter belts, waist cinchers
and merry widows? Moving along, we all know there's
something about a high and mighty, well-rounded posterior
that makes our glans swell. But, the ass is really a
place for endings, not beginnings and one should not
get stuck there either...or they could have a Freudian
slip and wind up renting smothering movies and backed
into suppressed infantile rage over potty training.
"So go ahead,
you tit-fuckers, and slide your slippery phallus
between her siliconed hills."
Then there's the vagina. A good place
to start or end with any objectification of female body
parts, except that sometimes it just gets really whacked
out down there--like once every goddamned month. And
before you know it you're into drinking Kotex tea as
well as her pee...and what about yeast infections and
all those not-so-fresh days. Clearly, one eventually
must move on. And there they are...the legs. Her lovely
limbs take her everywhere--even to see you, when you're
lucky. She crosses them, uncrosses them, spreads them
wide for your happiness, shaves them, anoints them,
tans them, sticks them in stockings and pantyhose, panties
and short-shorts and dresses and skirts.
Ahhh, legs. They really do go on forever.
Have you ever fucked a pair of well-developed, firm,
smooth, curvaceous calves (the Calves of Doom are calling)
and just cum all over her legs? Pulled her stockings
on for her, taken them off, lotioned her limbs after
shaving? I once jerked off and came all over my girlfriend's
freshly shaved legs while she was sitting in a chair
studying her Anthropology book. It was finals week.
And, no, I did not feel like I was settling for less.
T'was an honor. My duty to anoint her smooth white legs
with my whiter offering, like a benediction.
Then there's the feet, which should
really be considered a part of her legs. Because if
you start fixating on her feet, then you're liable to
infantilism again. Don't get me wrong;
there's nothing like a good foot-fuck every once in
a while. And shrimping is mandatory on special occasions,
especially when those toes are all young and tender
and never been shrimped before. But one should never
stop at the feet. Again, they are an ending place.
Which brings us back to the beginnings of her face.
Giving good face is always a fine place to fixate,
especially if she likes to give head. A pretty face
sucking your dick will never let you down. But as
I mature, I find that all of the above will no longer
suffice. I need her brain-- ultimately the largest
sexual organ, and her erogenous zone I need to relate
to the most. The saying, "fuck your brains out" should
not be taken lightly. Until a really smart woman has
fucked (up) your brain, and you--with your special
verve, wit, imagination, perversity--have fucked her
gray matter, I say you have not lived. Yup, I want
her to fuck my brain as I fuck hers because sex is
a verb, baby, and we are all starving for verbs.
So go ahead, you tit-fuckers, and
slide your slippery phallus between her siliconed
hills. I fucked her brain, sucked on her frontal lobes.
And she will never forget things that I've said from
now 'til she's cashing her Social Security checks.
Talk about skull fucked...I say this is the natural
evolution of things: to begin with her breasts and
end with her brain. Fuck my medulla oblongata, baby.