Those Were the Days ...

My Patriotic Friend is going down a path that I know I will take. He has been my mentor and confidante, a few years ahead of me in most respects. A while ago he was sharing his thoughts with me over some fine wine. The occasion was a one-year remembrance of something he had valued and then lost. He said,

“We tend to forget the original thrill of it, that first-time experience when we thought it was a gift from the gods, and we didn’t deserve it.”

He paused for effect and a sip of wine, then continued,

“We went along exploring it, finding new ways to enjoy it for a while. Then over the repeated occurrence of this gift to us we at first began to expect it. Later we became accustomed to the joy of it so much that after a while it seemed ordinary. It was like our daily bread: we no longer thought of it as a gift from the gods, rather, as something due us. All was well.

“Then at some point we realized that this continual gift that we grew to expect was no longer forthcoming. It is as if the gods knew all along of us being ingrates, and decided to bluntly remind us.”

As usual I made a note of his statement knowing that some day I will remember it just so.

Life has not been easy, but in general, good for me. I have had many good things going and I am content. I did give thanks occasionally, but I was also cocky. I seldom gave an explicit thought that some of these good things would stop suddenly.

Then it happened. Two very much appreciated aspects of my life came to an end. One was taken from me, the other I chose to give up for a good reason. The first happened about two years ago, the second a few months back.


As I learned growing up in a hostile environment, “Once you leave, you can never go home.” You may revisit, but it won’t be the same. What you lose or give up can never be retrieved. Life goes on, but along different paths.


I know I am an ingrate when it comes to the appreciation of the good things in my life. I can cite several specific instances when I should have done better. Yet, I am unsure whether I would be better off if I had been explicitly grateful for those gifts from the gods. One thing is certain: it hurts to know that I could have shared or given more, and yet I did not, and now it is too late.


A pleasant but rather sad song by Mary Hopkins from the sixties has the following passage that describes this:

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way…

That is the “before” part. Then after the realization of our loss,

… Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Nothing seemed the way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely person really me …


… Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we're older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same …

The really bad part of this is that when things are going well we don’t know or realize that this may be the last time the good thing happens. This may be the last week or last day of our grace. This may be the last gift from the gods. A few days go by without worry, for we are ingrates. Then doubt sets in. Then after a while the realization that it is over. If we could go back to that lest episode! If we could go back to that last day! Maybe we could have and would have done something different. Or at least enjoy it more knowing that it was the last time. But we did not know until later. And here we are.



The truth is, we are an instrument of our destiny. Occasionally we are carried along by its stream, but invariably we have a decision that will change and determine our future based on what we do or fail to do. As in the song, Careless Whisper, “… there's no comfort in the truth, pain is all you'll find …“ What next?

 

Slave Versus Sex Slave

Men claim to want to be slaves to women. I truly understand their need, and I am among them. I want to be a slave to a woman. The problem is when, after cleaning toilets, vacuuming floor, picking up kitty and doggie poop, we run out of kinky stuff. The woman to whom we wish to be a slave is sipping her beverage watching some mindless TV show ignores us and we are bored. We just spent a day on drudgery, and there is no hint or promise of sexual joy.

That is slavery.

Sex slavery is different. You are called upon your favorite kink to do or not do whatever you like. If you like chastity, you are prevented from orgasming. If you like sexuality or homosexuality, you are prevented from all that or forced to do it. You are put into a scenario that enhances your needs and either helps or prevents you from achieving them.

The question is, “Who is going to do that for you and why?” Is she or he doing it to satisfy your kinky sexual needs, or to satisfy his or her kinky sexual needs?

Few men as highly sexed as I would refuse to be a sex slave at least from time to time. After a day or so of getting over the result of masturbation we all are ready to serve a woman, or even a man, to any extent. The more kinky it is, the more we are ready. Then we orgasm, and the urge is reset. A never-ending cycle.

Hell, when I am horny I am willing to suck a dick. Then I get my things off, and dismiss it as some frigging homosexual fantasy, whatever. About the woman, I could still do it but not being fully compliant with the implications as in her being in estrus. So, when in the sex slave mode, I am willing to do almost anything. Well, maybe. I look at a woman and say, I could be her slave. But the thing is, being a slave is more demanding than my idea of being a sex slave when I am horny. I don’t really know what a slave would be unless I were to get into lawyesrism. I know damn well what being a sex slave is: to serve her sexually no matter the circumstances. But whoa! That is a wide open mine field to tread Yes, I am ready, but not after I have just orgasmed.

I hate to be so fickle. I would love to have MW hold me to my promise to do … you know, all that stuff. That is, until I orgasm. Then it is different.

Would somebody please take control of my brain and say, “Having just orgasmed has nothing to do with how you feel. This is what you will do, and you have nothing to say about it.” That is how I feel in general except after you-know-what.

Law Enforcement

I have been challenged on my blog space about my sporting a gun in a civil scenario. There is a difference between being a victim and being a victor. There is a difference between the average denizen of the state, legal or illegal, and the rest of us.

If you have not experienced this, your time is coming: some criminal will try to do a bad thing to you, and you will not like it. This is the product of living in society. It goes way back to biblical times. When some scumbag wants your money, it’s nothing personal; you just happen to be a convenience to the scumbag.

So, “Who do you call?” as they said in “Ghost Busters.” The immediate problem is that we are not there on the scene to stop the bad guy. We have tried it, and it is not possible. The next best thing is for you to call 911. We respond, but it may take time. Usually it is too late to stop a bad situation, but we are there eventually to mop up the scene.

We, the police, are here to show presence, and to some extent deter crime. But we cannot prevent crime. Some people resent our presence, but that is their problem. The best we can do is to catch the perpetrator after the crime and turn him over to the courts for just disposition.

If you never do anything that would justify someone calling 911, then you should consider us the good guys, for we don’t go looking for schmucks to arrest even when they deserve incarceration. We serve legal warrants rightfully issued by judges. If you are an average citizen, and we don't catch you in a crive, you have nothing to fear from us. You should actually feel good seeing us and be around us. We serve and we protect you. On the other hand, if you are a criminal, we will get you, and we don’t care how you feel about us. This is not politically correct, but we really don’t give a shit. We will see you in handcuffs. Then you can deal with Bubba who wants to explore your nether regions during the lights-off hours. It comes with your chosen territory.

Homosexual Marriage

Homosexuality in general, when not in my face, is OK with me .We all are to some degree homosexual, so I will not blame or ostracize anyone who is not "truly heterosexual" what the hell ever that may be.

I have, however, a problem with “gay pride” and when homosexuals try to make special laws to favor their sexual preferences. Let’s say, that I am a kleptomaniac, and I am proud of it. Should I have laws enacted to prefer me as such? I rest my friggin’ case. If you bring up the argument of "homosexuality is not a preference but ingrained", give me a damn break. I am highly sexual, and I admit that it came with my being from way back. But I don't go around flaunting it or forcing it on others because "I can't help it". I also don't ask the government to give me special dispensation to accommodate my proclevity to prefer my sexual preferences. Dammit, I control my own behavior whether it is sucking a cock or licking a pussy. I go with what is reasonable, and I don't need the state to support my preference. You do your thing, and I will do mine without intruding on your space!

My definition of marriage in the traditional sense is between a man and a woman, whether they are heterosexual or to any degree homosexual. The reason for this is a religious basis. I am not religious, but I respect the belief and dedication of any religious person as long as it is not destructive or restrictive of my own beliefs. For example, if this religious person wants to blow me up because I am not of his faith, I will blow him away without respect to his so-called religion.

Getting back to the marriage issue I think that it is a non-issue. The definition of marriage is as old as mankind. It goes back to Adam and Eve in whatever language or religion. The problem with this came up when the state got into the act. There was a good reason for that, but it was wrong from the conception. The good part is trying to define a lawful state with respect to shared property, shared responsibility for each other and children, and ultimately, inheritance. The thing that is wrong with this is the definition of marriage itself. Marriage is a religious assumption, demonstrated over the years by the sanctions of priests, and other religious leaders. It is a promise to take care of and to serve only each other under God, whatever that god may be. This at some point should have been separated from a state-approved and sanctioned contract, which I call a “civil union”.

A civil union can and should be allowed between and among two or more people or such. The legality can be defined by the friggin’ lawyers to withstand the court’s probes, and should have nothing to do with religious or personal promises that a real marriage represents. Under a civil union, a man should be able to marry a woman, a man, or any number of such, including animals or inanimate objects. I really don’t give a rat's ass about what some man or woman wants to do along these lines as long as they keep it out of my life. This would negate the debate and the issue over the constitutionality of homosexual marriage and the other stuff, and keep it out of the courts.

Well, people have their heads up their asses, so this is not going to happen the way I see it. Stupidity has no bounds. The judge who negated the ballot initiative Proposition 8 in California has his own agenda describing a marriage between a man and a woman as homophobic. Yes, he is self-admitted homosexual, but that is not why he should be booted. Any homosexual is as smart or intelligent as a heterosexual. This guy has an agenda and he uses his position to undo what others in the majority deem proper. That is why he should be booted.

What Comes Around Goes Around

I find it funny and somewhat pathetic to read about someone’s self-described Female Led Relationship versus the vanilla version. The question is, "What is the difference?"

Let’s go back to what used to be called the vanilla relationship where a man is “henpecked”. Some poor schmuck would be controlled by his wife’s in-his-face insensitive behavior. She would humiliate him before friends, relatives, and strangers just because she was a friggin’ bitch and could get away with it and he did not have the balls to set her straight.

So now, henpecked is not only a misnomer but politically incorrect, even insulting to the woman who is doing the henpecking. Now she is in charge, and he is in her charge. Now she can be in-his-face and insensitive, and humiliate him to any extent in front of anyone. But this is good, because this is now a Female Led Relationship, and the rules are set: she is in charge, she can do anything, and he is to comply with whatever she decides. He is just a dolt who is not allowed to make a decision because she is the smart and intelligent one in the relationship.

Has anything changed other than the perception of the relationship?

Way Back ...

I was in elementary school. I had already learned from my parents the order of importance: family, community, country. If family failed, there was nothing left. But if I could serve family, then the others took importance in the order shown.

I had a friend whose home I visited occasionally. His name was Deák Feri. His home was across town a long walk, but I did it for he was a fine fellow, and had interesting pedigree. His father was an enemy of the state, and his mother was a beautiful woman with ties to the old aristocracy. He was into engineering as I, and we had good times inventing things and playing with them. Then one day I learned that his father was discovered in the attic of an out building, and that his mother, oh the horrors, was supplying him with food and such. The father, of course, was arrested, and without a trial was executed. The mother was put into prison. Those were the times of our days.

It is many years and some continents away now. I have not kept touch with Deák Feri. At first it would have been dangerous to both of us. Later, well, maybe impossible given the oppressive government, which I damaged, and then left to its own devices to eventually fail.

I was fortunate to land in the United States of America and many years later obtain citizenship. Those of you who were borne here and managed to ignore the true history of the best country on this earth should do some studying. Read and study the constitution. That is the basis of this great land. If you ignore it, and many of you have, you will lose your freedom. We see it flittering away as allowances by the federal government. You should also study old history, not the politically correct crap now provided as such in schools.

I know what it is to be without freedom. It was before I came to the USA. It was a matter of my life, and I had to kill to keep it. I was fortunate to survive. The ones on the other side killed were not worth the air they breathed. I am not talking of ordinary street thugs. These were state hired thughs who would kill their mother on orders. When their day came they met their dues.

Total Control

Now that I am alone for a week I have a lot of time to think. I have thoughts that transcends FLR. They even consider issues other than sex. Yes, I know that you know me as a horny person, but I have some feelings of wider coverage. My Patriotic Friend and I have discussions of ideas and concerns that affect our country and future. Here is a piece of wisdom from him.


An Essay By My Patriotic Friend

Not one man or woman, nor a select group of people can make long-term decisions on what is best for us as a nation. This is the problem with our government. The people involved may have our welfare in mind at first, although I doubt it. I think it is mostly self service, and to hell with the people who pay their extravagant salaries and lifetime retirement benefits.

Aside from their avaricious inclination and lifestyle they are not smart enough individually and collectively when compared to what can be achieved by our nation as a whole. The United States of America is the only nation that has clearly demonstrated what can be done by freedom. You may argue the virtues of “isms”, and provide anecdotal evidence to shore up your beliefs, but on the long run, capitalism within a free society is what has endured, whereas all other “isms” have failed so far. European countries are going bankrupt. Some are abandoning the social welfare schemes because they can no longer afford them. Yet our Dictator in Chief and Congress are hell-bent on mimicking the European failed policies to lay out a good job for themselves at our and our children’s expense.

Capitalism relies on individual ingenuity and willingness to pursue an idea until it pays dividends. It creates jobs for those who are without ideas. It creates jobs for those who are willing to work. It discourages those who want to live off the earnings of the achievers. Capitalism thrives on the energy provided by willing and able members of a free society. Every member benefits from this energy, even those who sponge off our earnings.

When there is a problem that transcends the society, self-serving, and even well meaning members of the government step in to solve it. What they end up doing is to manipulate a narrow aspect of the symptoms. On the long run, they simply add to the problem, and cause other problems.

Capitalism can solve problems if given a chance. The reason is that the collective mind is vastly larger than the mediocre minds limited by the size of the government, and the huge bureaucracies that they rely upon. Capitalism relies on individuals all over the society. There is a vast resource of ingenuity among the population. One or more can be brilliant. Many can surpass the limited intelligence of the governmental members. When our government begins to limit this societal cornucopia, our lives become saddled under impossible constraints.

Capitalism does not deal with pseudo science and pseudo economics such as carbon credit, cap and trade, or government forced health care. It encourages people to figure out what is best for them, and allow it to do so.

It used to be said, “Charity begins at home”. That has become a national issue lately. But charity is not the charter of our federal or even state government. If our elected representatives took a four-year vacation, for which we would pay, our country would do very well. At the end of the four years we could reflect upon the improvement of our lives, and decide that lack of action in Congress is more beneficial than their managing of our lives.

絕不要羞於承認自己不知道的事。......................................

I have gone over this issue once, but had no resolution. Those of you who leave comments in a different language, they show up like the title of this post. I will not publish them, for they are simply cluttering the blog space. If you really want to leave a comment, please do so in English.

Home Alone

I am free as far as messing with the little guy is concerned. I can do to him, with him, or he can do to me whatever our fertile imagination provides. Yet, it is not as good as it would be with MW.

MW is off on her annual week’s stay with her friends at a nearby resort. I drove her there and moved all their luggage and stuff into the units that they were to occupy. We had a nice dinner in the main unit, and, as usual, I spoke many words of double meanings and they were understood. They know that I am a horny bastard ready to be used. With wine and spirits I may have had an excuse for my wise-ass comments. I assumed that MW would punish me for them, but she let me get away with them for now. That is both good and bad. I stayed overnight, and left mid-morning the next day to go home to allow the lovely ladies enjoying a few days of vacation.

I am now at home alone. I can indulge in my right hand gratification as much as I want. If she were to ask about it later, I would tell her. If she did not, it will remain between me and the little guy. I miss her. Her absence reminds me of how much I love to be with her.

You Never Know When It Is Truly The Last Time ... Until Later

I was young. I had a female friend much older than I. We did not exactly have sex, but did some heavy petting and then some. I very much appreciated her. She knew that I was not in her future. I also realized that I would develop other relationships with girls more my age. Still, the relationship sufficed under the circumstances.

“Will you see me next Sunday?” she asked.

“Nothing would keep me from you. I would love to do again what we did not quite do this time.”

“Why, you sarcastic horny little dick. Don’t expect much. Still, it is good to be with you.”

Then I became involved in a situation outside of our relationship. That situation was the cause of a complete change of my future. The planned Sunday tryst was impossible. Soon after that I left the country. I never did satisfy my commitment to her.



We may have a satisfying relationship. The normal is where one or both of us get what we want. Then we have a need to escalate, because normal becomes commonplace, no longer exciting. So we ratchet our needs and wants, and beg, plead, or press for more. Sometimes we get it, and all is well for a while. The sex we had some time back is now more exciting, it is on a higher plane. We coast with the joy and remembrance. We tend to skip over episodes because they are easy, with us at a whim. We don’t realize that the last great sex we had together could be truly the last.

Things happen that simply make it impossible to continue. Then days, weeks, and months later we remember how good it was, and that it was truly the last.

If only we could know, we could make it more memorable, somewhat like in the song, If You Go Away. But it is too late. We have had our last episode. Nothing will be like that again.

Once you miss the next episode, you miss it forever.

Cum Shots

I have been pissing off people lately. It is an attitude that I seem to have from time to time, and this is the time. I am being brave. I am willing to walk out before you without my body armor and wait for you to take your best shot at me. I may duck, but I will be out there!


I have bitched about pornography before. If you get off on it, fine. I have gone through some, and, without a scientific measure, I conclude it to be total crap. Yes, I know, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” The problem is, I keep looking, but I see no beauty.

Some of you will say, “Yeah, shithead, you watch porno like we all do, so quit bitching.” Ok, I don’t know the amount of time you spend on it, the frequency, the intensity, or the type of material, so it is difficult to compare. I just have some real problem with about a tad below 100 percent of the stuff that I have seen.

I absolutely do not want to see women mistreated by men regardless of the situation. Yet, about fifty percent has to do with violence against women.

I tolerate a woman mistreated by another woman in some circumstances, but I never get sexual satisfaction out of it.

The ordinary fuck and suck videos don’t do anything for me, which accounts for another forty percent or so. As much as I love to see the naked female form, hump and blow scenes leave me cold.

That leaves some really raunchy stuff I don’t want to mention.

The above items take care of about 99 percent of pornography. The remaining one percent has to do with fake female dominas mistreating fake male submissives against fake dungeon-like backdrops mostly having to do with cocks and balls in some kind of bondage.

Visualize a skinny anemic unattractive female with a sneering attitude whose every second or third word, if she can speak at all, is “fuck” or “fucking”. She wears the requisite idiotic platform shoes and hopes she does not fall off and break two ankles. She wears a rubber or plastic outfit. She wears “nurse” outfit, or “military” outfit or ”Mistress outfit” that are produced by some home-shop in Shang-Wien in China. She wields whips, paddles, quirts, and appears to be in charge of a stupid male already in bondage. It is not known why he would go along with it. She suspends him from impossible hooks and chains in impossible positions, and proceeds to impale his mouth with the largest dildo ever built. She rapes him with a dildo the size of an elephant dong, and orgasms as he does in the process.

Have I turned you on so far with my depiction of pornographic methods and paraphernalia? If not, then maybe we think alike.

Some idiots out there obviously assume that depicting ugly men and women in prurient or violent portrayals of sexually suggestive scenarios are potentially lucrative. Perhaps they are right, otherwise they would not continue doing it. Are you paying for this? Are you supporting it? Which part of this is erotic?

I would rather use my imagination and jerk off in my bathroom. I am not condemning one’s preference for things. You know, some folks like gas masks, rubber suits, enema apparata, ballet boots, whips, paddles, chains, hooks, and so on. Pleasure and pain are relative. Shape, size, age, and scenario are to be preferred for the moment. Male or female, or a mix of the best is appreciated based on one’s needs. Two’s threes, or groups can be enticing. To each his own. But, damn, there is nothing original and attractive out there! It’s just more of the same crap. The captions to depict the contents are written by morons, and in many cases using an English-XXX dictionary.

Personally, when it comes to flavor, texture, and scenario, I like freshly baked sourdough rye bread. If all I see is doughnuts, chocolate cakes, ice cream, I feel disappointed and avoid it.

Similarly with the professional dominatrix scenario, I like the earthy well-built and experienced females as opposed to the typical thin femme fatale with no curves or muscles. If one of these thin wannabes has the means and determination to really whip my ass (figuratively) I might give her a chance assuming that MW would allow it. As I always say, “It’s not what you have, but what you do with it.” Alas, most of these professional mistreatesses don’t know what the hell they are doing. If they did, they would not be in front of a cheap camera with an asshole behind it. The purveyors of the genre assume that I don’t exist. Am I a minority?

What I really would like to see is real people doing real things in an erotic set. Real conversation, real story, real reactions to real events. They could get erotic, sadistic, masochistic, or realistic to fit the scenario. I would be willing to skip violence except maybe in tightly controlled situations where they are just part of what eventually becomes the ultimate orgasm (I like S/M when it fits the scenario. I have been known for having my ass whipped as I reported on my blog).

And yes, “Aarghhh, I’m comin’….!” Not to be included.

Getting back to the cum shot idea in the title. This is blatant. I am a man, I have masturbated, I have been masturbated by my female partner. All that was pleasant to a certain extent depending on the circumstances. Then there are the “cum shots” of pornography.

Can anyone tell me why a man would masturbate in the presence of an attractive woman and spill his juice over her face or body? I am as horny and virile as any man, but if a woman is willing to share her body, attention, and love with me, and we have an agreement of mutual pleasure, the last thing I want to do is to spill my sperm on her face. The whole idea is fake, stupid and demeaning to the woman!

I have masturbated. I do it when all else fails. But if I am in the company of a willing female, I would feel like a moron to culminate my pleasure by jerking off over her body. Who the hell came up with this lame theme?

Even worse are the pornographic videos of fucking and sucking until the last moment when the stupid male schmuck withdraws from whatever orifice and spills his load on some usually expected female surface. Give me a fucking break! Are there any of you out there who would do that? Male or female?

What would a woman get out of that? I know how a man would feel: an aborted or ruined orgasm! Unless the woman is enforcing that, and I would go with that, the idea is stupid. The people filming these videos are idiots, and the men getting off are just jerkoffs. Maybe they never learned to pleasure a woman with her satisfaction in mind. Maybe they learned sex watching these stylized pieces of crap and never had real sex. Maybe they don’t know love and satisfaction where it counts. They obviously have no respect for women. Similarly, the women have no respect for themselves or the men. What pathetic existence!

The Way We Perceive Ideas

Prologue

Her Majesty's Plaything posted an interesting view of playing at home or doing the second best thing without straying: the Internet. The blog is apparently well read, for there were many comments. I did not leave a comment, for being late, and much of what I would have said had been said. I like his blog. In many ways we are alike. I don’t have the experience of dealing with professional dominas, but that may be just something that I tragically missed in my naïve younger days. As for the rest, he is a good writer and a person I could have as a friend. I want to present my view that in many ways coincides with his. I have posted on the subject of evolution with respect to ideas, ideals, and expectations. Because the Internet is rich in ideas, experiences, feelings, and pornography, I want to say a few things that represent mine.

Naïveté

I started my blog in 2007 when my Mistress Wife (MW) and I fully realized the significance of a Female Led Relationship. I could not read enough to satisfy my thirst for femdom, FLR, serving women, and the various aspects that are now fully explored issues: chastity, CBT, cuckoldry, etc. As you can tell by the above words, it was mostly sexual.

I was naïve. Most of us begin with that characteristic, for I doubt that any of us are borne with full knowledge of the subject. Everything that I read was fun, exciting, fascinating, and sexual. See my list of favorite books on this blog to get an idea.

After a while I began to be more discerning in my evaluation of what I read, but kept increasing my list of blogs that I revisited. I was thrilled. I did not have enough time to explore all that, but I tried to be efficient at it. This brought me to the next stage of being: discerning.

Discerning

I began to identify signs of falsehoods that enabled me to separate fact from fiction and consequently dismiss the crap. Some blogs were mostly factual, but had posts that were either clearly or partly fictional. I began to resent such. The reason was based on the premise of my own blog: truth, unless explicitly stated otherwise.

I have no problem with fiction and fantasy. I write short stories, and books that are fantasy. But within my blog I remain truthful. I expect the same unless the author states otherwise.

I also began to do what I referred to back then as pontification. My assumption back then was that I was smart, experienced in the subjects I discussed, therefore, I had the right to pontificate. Well, maybe.

During these two periods of development I wrote about how MW and I did things, some of which I would not want to share with friends and relatives on account of subsequently being embarrassed. Nothing shameful there, just that some issues need to remain unsaid or unpublished among friends and family.

Jaded

My interests ranged all over the FLR realm, and I found occasional gems. As time went on I kept reading about things that I had read before although posted by different people. I was interested in actively debunking fakery and applauding real dedication to FLR. The various fringes of FLR still interested me, but that is where I usually found silly claims and attempts at presenting obvious fantasy as reality. As I said, I like fantasy. Just don’t try to sell it as reality.

Disillusioned

I still love the idea of FLR. I want to spend my life serving a deserving woman, such as MW. However, I have a real problem with many of the issues, such as female supremacy, slavery, total control, cuckoldry, extreme chastity, etc. I am not dismissing any of this at all. They all are fascinating games that two or more people can play, and I would love to play some or all from time to time.

My problem is when some readers or writers comment on the issues as if we all should be that way and sound like they have it all figured out. I have written about all of these, and probably will again. The thing is, there is no one rule that will fit more than just some of us and only occasionally at best. It is fun to read it, to write it, and especially to experience it. But it is just a game. I have never met a willing or unwilling slave, for instance. He or she may have played at it, but on the long run, they don’t exist.

The Way It Is

One can make a lifestyle real for a short time assuming willing partners. And then things change. Interests diverge, economic and health issues show up, obligations kick in, and then what was a neat game is no longer viable. You expect some of this. If you are smart you plan for this, and handle the changes one by one and will hang in there being wiser.

If you are naïve or stupid, you don’t know what hit you, and will begin to repeat an attempt to recreate the failed relationship. Good luck! You will die trying.

If you have an otherwise stable relationship, then you get over these hurdles and either improve your aim or admit failure and try something else. In the words of my Patriotic Friend, “’Nothing’ is perfect. Whereas, everything else is not.” Since we are dealing with everything else, we see imperfection all around. In my mind, that is a challenge to improve whatever I am doing.

In Closing

I assume that a person with more intelligence than mine could have transcended the stages that I had to travel to come to my conclusions, and zero in on it at the start. My excuse could be that I was exposed to malnutrition and lead (both in paint and bullets) as a child, so the experience had handicapped me.

However, I am not using an excuse. I despise excuses. I either do or I fail to do. If I fail, then I take the consequences. The only allowed excuse is being dead. By the latest measure, I am still alive, so I have no excuse. However, I will admit to being less intelligent and less smart than some people I have known and admired. That is an admission of my relative standing. It is being realistic.

Then there are people who are not smart enough to realize that they are not smart. Pity.

Pathetic

I enjoy reading Mistress Kathy's Blog. She is benign, and does some things to her husband that turn me on sexually, although I am not too sure that she is real: it could be one man’s fantasy. I also get a kick out of some of the discussions as a result of her postings. The latest that got me off on this kink was Money Of His Own. You will have to read it to understand my reaction to some of the comments.

Come on, guys, this is really pathetic. Aren’t you adults? Do adults need some other adult to check your exact behavior from minute to minute? So what if you buy an extra cheese burger? Is that a friggin’ sin?

I don’t understand the mentality of needing to be controlled to this extent other than the sexual part. Maybe you never grew up to be an adult, and you need the extra care. If that is the case, you should not be allowed to marry, form an adult relationship, have children, have a reasonable job, or drive a car.

This thing about not having financial means, or having a tiny allowance to buy your weekly chewing gum is ridiculous. Either you are a responsible adult, or you are a moron. I have a distant nephew who is a moron. He works at a WalMart retrieving shopping carts to earn a living with some help. He is proud of it, and I don’t think that sex is part of his enjoyment of his accomplishments. Whereas the rest of you who need care, well, I am sure that much of that is in your sexual fantasy. If you are lucky, some woman provides that by giving you one dollar a week to get your dental floss or such. As for practicality or reality of the situation, it is ridiculous. Your mother is no longer in charge of you, so get over it! If you are that stupid to deal with real things, what the hell is some assumed intelligent woman doing with you? You should be in an asylum. This whole thing is a damn fantasy.

Playing sexual games including money and other such real things is fun, and many of us do that. Just don’t tell us that it is real. Real soon you or your partner gets tired of it, and then it is over. So all the crap you wrote no longer applies. Any of us who belived in you are left with disappointment. Shame on you.

Chenoweth

I was introduced to a person in my professional space whose last name was Chenoweth. I found the name unusual, not having heard or seen it before. The name sounds somewhat feminine, some name that I would give to a female child who would grow to be a magnificent female. Alas, this person was male, stocky, and entirely not my type when it came to sexual preference. He was also a very competent engineer in the computer science realm. I assumed that he was of Irish heritage, so I was on his side from the beginning. Let me explain this.

Some years prior while I was a budding engineer of electrical and computer science I held a part time job driving a commuter bus for extra earnings. OK, maybe I was not very smart, but it was some extra income that I could use to support my growing family. On one occasion I drove a group of citizens to some theatrical play in a nearby city. While they were viewing the performance I did some studying as I was still between degrees of BS and MS. By the way, “BS” stands for “Bachelor of Science”, not the other thing. During the ongoing performance while I sat in the driver’s seat of my bus a couple of the denizens of the group entered. Apparently they did not care for the fare offered by the theatre, so they decided to spend the last hour in my company. I nodded as they took seats and returned to my textbook on Fluid Dynamics.

The woman was slightly older than I, the man somewhat younger. He made no impression on me. But the woman, well, let’s say, I was more than impressed. I was newly immersed in the English language with an American tutelage, so listening to the woman talking was a new experience. Although I was in love with my wife, I could have gone with this woman anywhere. I correctly guessed her strong accent to be Irish and I loved it. We talked and enjoyed the wait for the rest of the troupe about an hour thence.

Later I read a book by L. Ron Hubbard, “Battlefield Earth”. It was somewhat two-dimensional; nevertheless, I enjoyed it very much. Although set in an American future scenario, by far the best part was the Scottish folk who became a major part of events downstream.

So much for the background, and now back to my erstwhile colleague, Mr. Chenoweth. I love everything Irish, Scottish, and British. I miss the opportunity to have immigrated to England when I ended up in the United States of America instead. I would now be speaking with a British accent otherwise. Now, of course, I know that I was fortunate due to circumstances of my background and have an American accent with a European flavor. Still, I love the various accents the people have from these parts of the world. In all, Scotts are my favorite people. After my encounter with this engineer of exotic name I did some research, and found that the name may be of Cornish origin. Well, Cornish is not exactly common outside of the UK, so most of us would assume Celtic. You know, somewhat like when you hear a Hungarian name and you assume it is Polish: close enough, since they are all alike anyway.

That was the only time I encountered the name Chenoweth. Are there any of you out there who know someone by that name? Let's hear from you.

I Am With Stupid

I recently ran across a bad cliché that began many years ago. I recall a picture on the Internet that had started a multi-million dollar industry with every entrepreneur copying it in some fashion. It depicted a woman walking toward the photographer. She wore a tee-shirt somewhat like this I am with stupid. To her left and slightly behind her walked a man carrying purchases apparently for her. The arrow was pointing to him, and their position in the situation was perfect as far as that went.

On first glance I was amused at the apparent humor. Then I quickly became irritated. Now, many years and millions of dollars cashing in on the “I am with stupid” phrase by people (not me) not connected to the original idea I feel the need to say this. I would never advertise being with a stupid person. If he or she were indeed stupid, I would try to minimize the effect and try to pass as a normal person. The reason is, I would not want to embarrass the stupid person or the on-lookers by pointing out this fact. On the other hand, if he or she were not really stupid, then I would be doing a cruel thing by calling this person stupid. In either case, it is not something that a reasonable person would do. I know that the basis of jokes and humor is cruelty, but this is not one where I would go.

The premise of this humorous depiction is flawed. It is impossible to tell which person, the woman or the man is stupid. Interestingly, I have never seen a depiction of the stupid arrow pointing to a woman. I guess that would not be politically corrrect, although it would be just as stupid as the arrow pointing to a man. If the man is stupid, at least he has an excuse to be exploited by a supposedly smart female. She can flaunt her smartness by claiming her man’s stupidity. In any weak scenario we can try to look smart when standing next to a stupid person. That works about as well as in political campaigns where one accuses the opponent of bad deeds, and by comparison, the mudslinger looks good. We all know how well that works.

In the original picture, if the woman is smart, then why is she dealing with stupid? Is it because she needs someone stupid next to her so that she can look relatively smart? Is it because she is stupid and can’t figure out the implications of this lame depiction? As I said, the premise is flawed.

If there are any of you out there who received one of these tee shirts or posters as a gift you might consider burning them.

Growing Old

I spent some time with My Patriotic Friend on the Fourth of July, our American Independence Day, our most important national holiday. He appeared less jovial, and more introspective than usual. We tried to make light conversation, but it seemed shallow. While I did not want to intrude on his mood, I was curious and tried to be emphatic. After sharing some wine he volunteered as if he had sensed my need to comfort him, or at least to understand his grief. The following are his words as accurate as I remember.

“I read a poem when I was a boy. It was an allegorical reference to a man growing old. Although the man was still virile, he knew the signs of age as he reflected on his life: the things he cherished, the things he had done, the things he was still doing, the things he had not done. Perhaps you remember it … 'September's End'“

He named the poem, and indeed I did remember! Alas, I cannot show it here, for it was not in English. I could try to translate, but the poem would be ruined in the process. He continued.

“Those of you who are still young but may be feeling your youth slipping away know what I mean. You notice hairs growing on body parts that you did not know existed. You used to work a full day of hard labor, and maybe you still can, but the next day you are on your ass for you would rather not get up and groan with pain. Your former daily workout of an hour or more is now a small part of that. Your skin is not as tight and supple as it used to be. Your favorite clothes no longer fit. Your shape seems to have shifted from your and shoulders and chest to your waist and ass. You will have to buy longer belts.

“You now have to trim your nose hair regularly else it be mistaken for a mustache. Your eyebrows tend to be thicker than what’s left on top of your head.

“You still look at young women of your favored type, but try to do it furtively in case they are offended by it. You no longer think that you would have a chance with them before they shriek, 'You dirty old geezer, get away from me!'

“Your partner still puts up with you but much of what the two of you used to do is narrowing to … well, you fill in the options.

“You still don’t take crap from most men, but at some point you think, ‘Maybe I should just grin and bear it.’

“I have had these thoughts for a long time. Now, however, they are becoming real. I still need to take care of those who depend on me. At the same time I am thinking that some day I will not be here, so they must learn to fend for themselves. I watched my father go through this and saw his concern, and in a small way, I felt his pain then, but I was cocky and full of myself. Yet, I knew that some day I would have to deal with what he faced then. I am not quite there yet, but I now have a taste of my future, and I am not enjoying it.

“There are fewer opportunities to be manly, to be beautiful, to be brave. I have done some good things. I have done some exciting things. I have done dangerous, fascinating, sexual, sensual, loving things. But there are many things that I have not done and I know I never will. Pity.”

Damn! I am younger than he, but I am heading toward the same place. There are many things that I still want to do before I get there. Will I?

We drank more wine and talked politics and current events. His comments and logic were impeccable as ever. I should spend more time with him. There is much he can teach me. He is a national treasure, a mentor, and a true friend.

Who Is In Charge?

I was reading the comments on “God Told Me”, June 27, 2010 at "whatevershesays" The comments have to do with a wife’s obedience to her husband and the so-called 50-50 relationships. I have no more problems with a wife totally obeying her husband than I have with a husband totally obeying his wife. In either case something is way out of whack, or the one or both of them are not quite sane.

Back in the dark ages including the fifties men used to think that they owned the world. Well, some did, or at least part of it, others were not that well endowed by power or riches. But all along, women ruled. They did not do so blatantly except in some cases. Generally they got their way by manipulating men. Even the stereotypical wife of the fifties TV crud did. You just had to look past the crisp aprons and high-heeled shoes that they wore while vacuuming the living room.

Now it is out in the open. Women still manipulate, but the men love it. If it is blatant, they love it even more. This is what FLR is about. However, the thing that has not changed is that not all women want leadership in a relationship. Some want input into decisions over the family, some just want to be told. Men never had a chance to give up leadership because of the socially accepted norms: man was in charge, if not, there was something wrong with him. Regardless of how much of an idiot he was, he was expected to be the head of the household.

Today we still have idiots of all genders. If, by some unfortunate turn of events they get to be in charge, they will muck up the relationship. Being an idiot or not wanting to be in charge is not gender specific. That is where marriages fail, and people end up with litters from various liaisons draining their energy and wasting attention rather than raising their children produced by one steady, responsible marriage.

I know I am pissing off a lot of you, for most marriages today are second and third. That is not my fault. So, be sensitive about it if you like. At least up to the fifties there was such idea as commitment: you made a decision, and you honored it, rather than go sniffing after another pussy once the one you got did not put out.

Then there is this politically correct (PC) idea of the so-called 50-50 marriages, which is the only PC alternative to FLR. I have some experience in civilian, military, and law enforcement management. In all cases a reasonably functioning organization had one person in charge. With the idea of 50-50, people would have been milling around without taking or accepting responsibility. In a 50-50 relationship nobody is in charge. When stuff happens, one does one thing, while the other does another, potentially mucking up the situation. People either must make rules, or follow them to a large extent. This is no different in a marriage.

In my marriage, I rely on my ability to honor my commitments. My only wife and I have children, and need not deal with ex wives and husbands or litters from former relationships. We don’t agree on everything, but we know that life is full of compromises, since nothing is perfect. I would love to be her total subject, one who belongs to her. I would love to be her love slave. I would love to serve her in all ways. Alas, that is no more than a sex fantasy. She makes decisions based on our mutual understanding of the facts, not because of what she has between her thighs. I could be in charge if I needed to be, but I defer to her. She is more intuitive than I am, so in most cases she makes the right decision about our family. As for finances, home repairs, dealing with the Sheriff, she gives me the opportunity to decide. Unless I am really unable to decide, I take care of them. She knows that our mutual benefit is my priority. She knows that she can override any decision I am about to make. She also knows where she is out of her element, and then I have to decide. This is not a 50-50 relationship. It is a rational and logical FLR. As for the bedroom scene, well, I would do anything to satisfy her. The way we have it is not quite satisfying for me. However, that does not mean that the FLR is over. As I said, nothing is perfect, but we work at it.

Up Only When I Don't Need It

MW and I have not been having sex lately having to do with her long procrastination over her planned surgery and then subsequent surgery and recovery. Not that I find that a reasonable excuse to not having fun on the side. We could have all kinds of fun together in other ways.

The little guy turns on me during the night and the early morning hours. He becomes the big guy and entices me to do things. Damn! I don’t want to get up during the night and go to the bathroom to satisfy him. He is an unreasonably demanding ass!

I could have fun all by myself, as most of you have done so. The problem is, there is no challenge. Most of the times that I decide, “I will pleasure myself, and be done with it, and then attend to whatever MW needs or wants,” is only partly satisfied. Yes, I can attend to whatever MW needs or wants later, but I have a hard time getting it up without provocation.

The problem is psychological, not physiological. Since I spend most of the night with a raging hard on, I know that the equipment works. Trying to get it up while fantasizing about this and that ends up fizzling out. It still works once in a while, but not as regularly as it used to do. Of course, with MW’s help it would be more workable.

Forget pornography! It sickens me. I have absolutely no use for the shots of fuck-fuck-fuck, suck-suck-suck, and the usual kinks on the side. It’s not that I would not participate if the occasion arose, just that, watching insidious and blatant fornication in any form leaves me cold. The purveyors of pornography have taken the essence of the experience out of life, and presented it as the only thing. Meanwhile, life goes on without the essence. Reminds me of the cartoon movie, “The Dark Crystal” in which the supernatural entities were split between two opposed characters: the evil, rotten, deserving to be destroyed skeksies, and the benign but boring and useless mystics. Apart they died of needing their other half. At the end, they re-formed, and together, they lived.

Pornography is the skeksies of our reality. The goodness is missing. Yet, without the skeksies’s input the mystics are also doomed. Love, warmth, and goody feelings will fix some problems, but will not move the world for you. You need to mesh your evil and good sides to get anything done.

MW and I have become mystics, and without our evil counterparts we are doomed. We need to get some evil things going.

Shopping With MW

I think that her hormones have kicked in again lately. Not that anything significant in the orgasmic sense has happened, but then, there are other things appreciated. I may have mentioned that she installed the CB2000. On me, that is! Yesterday she expressed an interest in acquiring some sexy underwear. No, not for me. I am best when I am in my uniform, which is minimal so to speak. You know, nothing on my skin but a ring or two or maybe the CB…


She had me drive her to one of the fine stores in the area. She remembered my yearning to see her in brilliant colors of enhancement aside from her lovely freckles and red hair. See Brilliant Colors. You know, underwear where the emphasis is not really on “under” but “outer”. After all, who would know the color of underwear but the one who put it on. Whereas, if it is really “outerwear” as we sometimes practice, well, then it does more than just contain some of the beautiful parts of a woman. It enhances one’s appreciation.

I stopped in front of the store’s door to allow MW exit the vehicle in style, after which I parked our car and walked back to the store. I had the understanding that she would wait for me inside the air conditioned space and then she would go look at merchandise and I would look at the female shoppers. I am still naïve when it comes to her. I took about a quarter hour to find her. But I had a good time looking at the female customers during my quest. The older I get the more latitude I have for the enjoyment of the female charm: there is more to appreciate. I eventually found my dear MW and we went on to find colorful enhancement to her beauty. I carried her choices like any other appreciative male would with my arms full and eyes still wandering over the local fauna. Then she wanted shoes.

I know that some guys are weird when it comes to women and shoes. I never could figure out the reason. On the other hand, (or maybe the other foot) I am a total slave when it comes to woman’s feet and shoes.

Did I say that I like women’s feet? In case I did not, I will say it now. She began looking at some totally non-functional but damned sexy sandals. After a while I sat down to wait for her to settle on her choices. Meanwhile I was on my knees on and off as she tried several of her potential purchases. I made some comments that I knew other shoppers nearby overheard. I like to play with people’s minds. In the famous words of Bill Murray in one of the Ghost Busters movies he said, “… Egan, you’re scaring the straights …” I was not exactly kissing her feet, but close to it. There is something about women, feet, and shoes …

My little guy was in a bad way inside his cage all this time, but at least I did not embarrass us by a blatant erection on account of the erection was contained in a plastic cage and not too obvious. We picked up a few more items on the way out. I carried a full armful of beautiful female enhancements and then paid at the end. I mean, with money, not the other stuff.

Hours later, in the night, we shared skin as we often do. It means full body contact. It is not blatant sex as one might imagine (not that I would refuse). It is appreciation of tactile and olfactory gifts by her to me. Oh yes, her taste also gets to be part of the joy. We each dozed off from time to time, and then came back to enjoy the goods. Nobody orgasmed, but it was good.

Yeah! Men Are Stupid, Whereas Women Are Smart

Showing how stupid some men are is fodder for comediennes, comics, and jokes. One of my favorite cartoon strips is Andy Capp. Here is an example:

He is not really stupid. He is just without a clue when it comes to tact. It is obvious that his wife knows it.

However, I have a problem with the entire scenario within and way outside of the cartoon strip and comedy in general. Take, for example, Flo, Andy Capp’s better half. By comparison she is smarter, more charming, more forgiving, and generally a better human than this sorry excuse for wasted skin. My question is, “Why is she married to such a piece of worthlessness?” Even more to the point, “Why did she marry him in the first place?”

If men are so shallow and stupid, should not an intelligent and supreme woman know that and avoid long-term relationship with them? After all, if she is so much smarter, should not she see past his sexual endowment and not try to burden her life for years with it? Sheesh, a dildoe would be much less expensive in emotion, commitment, and monetary ways. So what was it that grabbed her attention long enough to go with the stupid schmuck? Does anyone have an answer?

Could it be that women are not really smarter than men?

Pain

I have been skipping sleep lately. You know, stuff happens, and you don’t do justice to your basic needs.

No, I don’t mean sex.

Well, yes, there is that too. Without sex the world would come to an unappreciated end. At least, unappreciated by me. But then, I am highly sexed. That is not to say that I am a predator. It is very much the other way: “Please use me for your pleasure.” Yes, am a slut when the situation warrants it. Last night was such.

MW has been hinting about sex. For me, anything with sex is better than nothing, which is what we have had for some time. She had a CB2000 installed on me. I know, it is not the ultimate sex toy, and yet, it turns me on. It has been two days. She has the key, and I would not dream of breaking this toy without her permission. Goddess, I would love to be at her mercy. Alas, it is a toy. A sexy toy, but no more than that.

Last night we stayed up later than we usually do. It could have beeen her pheromones. I don’t know. She gave me pain. I know, the way I convey this is blasé and blatant. But that’s just the way it was. I know that I am a pain slut. I love MW to mistreat my precious parts. Do I need to go into details? My counterparts in maledom are out there. You know who you are, you know when you want your … ah … parts mistreated “just so”. You have been there, and want to re-visit about once an hour unless you have passed out from lack of sleep.

Getting back to the subject … Oh Goddess! She gave me pain. You know, the good pain. Not like a headache, not like a broken bone. The good stuff. My only wish was that she would increase the intensity and prolong the duration. But then, we must not succumb to pleasure, for it would be the end of life. Pleasure must be meted at a reasonable rate and mixed with boredom and drudgery. I know that I am a pleasure junkie when it comes to MW. In general, I would rather give it than receive it. I know it’s perverse, but that’s the way I am. I could live and die pleasuring her.

Still, I love receiving pleasure by MW. It is her precious gift to me. And then, there are her pheromones. They grab me by the ... you know.

It Is Just A thigh

I stand on her right side. She sits before her computer doing whatever she does, I don’t want to intrude. I just look down. Her right thigh is horizontal partly exposed from near pubis to her knee. If a man is ever tempted by female charms this would be it. And definitely I am tempted. God, she is beautiful There is nothing as charming as a female thigh. Oh well, there might be, but for now, I stand and admire. She is a gift from the Goddesses. She is MW. And I belong to her. She promised that I will get a closer look later. I will wait.

An Excerpt ...

Garth woke up on Carmelita’s couch. His mouth tasted like shit, all the smokes and that cheap wine added up. He needed a shower, but his head was just too damned big. He drifted off again until Carmelita kicked him in the leg, “Time to go, lover boy!”

Garth gathered his wits to the extent possible, and sat up. Oh shit! Ellie will be a bitch. He did not have the money to pay Carmelita. Fuck it. She will take an IOU like usual. “Sweetheart, I owe you.”

“No shit? You’re damn right you owe me. And if you don’t come up with some cash soon, I’ll cut off your nuts!”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.” He reached for her tits, but stopped as she kicked him in the balls

“You know about that title to your RV? I have it. You were stupid enough to sign the transfer, so it’s as good as mine. Now get your carcass out of here, and come back with money soon, or I’ll have the sheriff out there helping me to take ownership of your RV.”

Carmelita was a good fuck.. She was a great fuck. He could live with all that great stuff she strutted. The pisser was, she never was into blowjobs. She had that piss-ant boyfriend of sorts who would do anything she wanted, and once or twice she told the boy to suck him off. Garth went along with it basically because he got his rocks off his favorite way, and also, all he had to pay was a couple of six-packs, which was cheaper than what Carmelita usually charged.



See my book "Jason's Deliverance" for the rest of it.

She Kissed Me

We have kissed before, obviously. Before marriage we dated, and kissing was a major part of our ardor. At least, on my part. She was delectable, a veritable sweetheart of any man’s fantasy. But that was many years ago. Since then, we kissed lightly and seriously many times, so we both know what kissing is about.

Tonight, however, kissing took a serious turn. I have never been kissed like this. It is as if she suddenly owned my soul. Her lips took over mine, and commanded respect by their power. Yes, she was also working on my cock at the same time. My (her) cock has a Prince Albert ring through it. In addition, I wear a silver ring that she bought for me The Rings Yes, the cock manipulation had an effect on me. But that was miniscule compared to what she did with her lips to my lips. There is no way to convey the feeling to another human. You would just have to have experienced it. Her lips had a mind of their own that took over mine and reduced them to submission in the most flagrant ways. It would have been enough, but she, being her lovely Self, added her tongue to the exercise. I am not a religious person, but at that point I could have assumed MW worship to any extent. Her tongue did not exactly rape my mouth. It was more like using it to its lovely advantage. At that point there was not anything that I would not have done for her. God, she is great!

It was a kiss to die for! Maybe some day I will show a photo of her lips. It would not be enough to express my feelings, but it might be enough to show their wonderful potential.

Bull [shit]

I am reading a few blogs where the man writes about the woman in his relationship dealing with extracurricular sex. Yes, I am talking about the man being pussy-whipped and the woman taking any sex outside the relationship as her due.

Fine.

In some cases that is what the man wants regardless of what the woman wants: she must have sex outside, or else his fantasy is not fulfilled.

In other cases they already have a shitty relationship, and it is only a matter of time before it breaks without redemption. So she looks outside, he gets a hard on, then gets resentful at the end. Sometimes it works ... for a while at least. Maybe.

Then there is the pathetic fantasy where he has a small dick that would not satisfy a gnat, and she must have one of those big ones we read about, you know, some foot-long schlong attached to a piece of human meat with no brain, but that’s all right.

Yeah, we all have our fantasies. I don’t see the preoccupation with huge dicks, though. For one thing, it might be painful to the person on whom it is used. Forget anal sex, and maybe even forget vaginal sex. Oral sex might be fine as long as the male with the schlong pulls his punch. For another, well, just like having a big head, a big foot, or a big belly: it is not necessarily esthetically pleasing. But some men think that a bull with a huge cock is god’s answer to a woman’s need.

My main objection to all this is using the word bull. As if a woman were to say, “I’m going to the stockyard and hire a 3000 pound mindless animal to rip my innards so that I’ll be totally satisfied for once after dealing with this unsatisfying pipsqueak with a tiny cock.”

Damn, don’t these [assumed] women realize that a bull has a pea-size brain running a twenty-inch penis? Yes, I know, it is an analogy, but even the analogy fails when it comes to, say, tact, cleanliness, kindness, consideration, safe sex, let alone intelligent conversation. Then again, maybe these women need only to be reamed and then they are done?

Actually, I don’t believe any of this. I think that all of this is in the fertile mind of horny men who write pretending to be in a relationship of that sort, or pretending to be women.

Does anybody out there have actual information on this? Does anybody think that a bull is a good term for a sex mate in extracurricular affairs?

Fakery

I have been reading some blogs having to do with Female Led Relationship (FLR) over three years. There were some that attracted my attention in chastity, denial, cuckoldry, and mild S/M, but most lost my interest on the long run. Simple FLR is what I desired. It still has my attention. The problem is, I am losing interest even reading about that because of all the fake blogs. I keep touch with those that I know to be real.


I have debunked several blogs over the short three years that I pursued this interest. It felt good. But lately I began to feel different. I think that a man has fantasies that he cannot fulfill; he needs an outlet that is relatively harmless. Posting a blog is a way. If he is good enough writer to fool the readers, then what is the harm? The readers like it, and maybe learn from it, or go off and create their own fantasy blogs. As a result of my epiphany I resolved to stop debunking fake blogs as a rule. I would still debunk one upon a challenge, but I no longer feel compelled to make FLR Blogdom pure. Yes, I know, it took me a long time to become benign in this respect.

Hell, there is little reality left out there. If you are real, please let us know and how we can tell that you are not fake.

I ask, “Why ask?”

Say, we are in a situation where expertise in deep sea drilling is crucial, and we are hiring. You are dammed right I would ask the applicant about his or her ability to handle the job such as the oil spill in the US gulf coast. As for his or her preference to say, the use of the male member or a dildo, well, with due disrespect to the thought police, it is irrelevant. Aside from the analogy, whether or not you use a condom while having sex has little to do with how you cap a spewing oil well. Of course, some people will think otherwise.

Don't ask, don't tell.

In the military I would prefer to have fighting men and women whose first thought about a situation is to kill the enemy as opposed to being nice and trying to make friends. The thing about sexual preference is never an issue here. I have no position for or against this shit of controversy about gays in the military. The reason is, “It does not matter!” Among our duly elected idiots, elected by idiots,  in Congress, this thing comes up repeatedly, and they can’t get rid of it on account of having their heads up somebody's ass. Ok, they don't ask, and don't tell about it, and I just hope that while that is going in somebody will evacuate and then flush. Sometimes I think that we would all be better without a Congress. Yes, I know, that is the cry of an anarchist although I am not one. Still, considering the hundreds of thousands of congressional laws that are unconstitutional, destructive, and useless that we could do without, nobody would know the difference if we scrapped all and just stayed with the United States Constitution. The people who created this document did not have their heads up somebody's ass. We should trust their wisdom, and not mess with something that most of us are not intelligent enough even to read. When was the last time you read and understood the Constitution?

In a way, we should reboot our government, and get rid of the detritus accumulated because of misperceptions of what is right or wrong. I would begin with the current president-so-to-speak, With him gone, almost any idiot would do better on the job. Of course, the Senate and the House of Representatives would be next. One of my dogs would do as well as any current member of the Congress. At least, he would not be thinking of reelection, or “bringing home the bacon.” Damn, I am pissed!

The Ultimate Of Creation

I am not a fatalist.

I am not one who thinks that women are superior.

I am not one who thinks that men are inferior.

I am not promoting creationism versus evolution.

Yet, I feel that the female gender has the key to ultimate survival of the human, whatever the product would be at that point. My conclusion is biological.

Let’s face it, men inseminate, and then go away while women carry the subsequent burden to procreate. I get inversely claustrophobic thinking about having a parasite invade me for nine months and then punish me terribly to be done with me upon exit. And then for the next twenty years punish me more for my succumbing to the charm of the cock. I could learn to hate cocks.

In a weird pseudo-science-fiction we think of men as unnecessary and dying for lack of use and need. The reason is, women have all that they need to survive as species. The horny thing of insemination by a male could be arranged by some other means. As for the female’s yearning for a male’s cock, well it is somewhat like today’s shunning of homosexuality. The explicit need can be overcome by the use of artificial means. If it is not, there would be the female sex police to punish any woman who thinks of the real male member. You know, very much like today’s Sharia in the extreme as many women have already figured that out: “You will have your clitoris whacked off if you think of a male sporting a cock that is unencumbered with painfully restricting hardware, unless it is your husband, who can and will do anything to you.”

Don’t take me wrong. I value my position in life in relationship and in society. I am man, I am magnificent, I am to be feared and respected. Yes, I get old and frail, and then die. But I have made my positive contribution. There are some women who have appreciated knowing me, and would love to have me fill in for their dildoe from time to time. Well, maybe not all that, but still, I have done much good in life, and I want to be paid for it! About being superfluous forget that. Any self-respecting woman would love to have my cock to use as she pleases. Note that I did not say, “to fuck her with”, but just to use. I wish. Of course, there are some women who are not really self respecting, or have no respect for anyone. They go out of their way to demean and destroy themselves and anyone who has any use for men. It is a shame. Their viral thinking may take seed and germinate to produce virulent destruction of the sane members of the species.

On the long run, we don’t know how this will turn out. If I had to guess, sane females will survive. Males may end up kept as toys, but otherwise sterile and unnecessary. I will not be there to see it.

Breakfast In Bed

I may be running out of ideas with which I can titillate your prurient mind. I know this is not a controversial issue. Breakfast in bed appears to be highly coveted by some. I make this comment based on what I have read, not what I have experienced. Typically in an FLR, the man would serve his object of love with breakfast in bed. The effort would be appreciated, even more, expected!

MW and I are different. Actually, we are more than different. We are odd. She, and I associate breakfast in bed with being bedridden. After all, if we are well enough to get out of bed, it is much more comfortable, more hygienic, more expedient to sit at a table, or even on the floor, to eat a meal. In bed you have to be concerned with not moving much to avoid spilling liquids from a cup or glass staged on a tray, which in turn is balanced on an unstable mushy platform. Then someone must come along and clean the mess anyway, for you can’t avoid crumbs and drips no matter how carefully you eat.

The other thing is, sitting in bed while eating off a tray is just damned uncomfortable. You are limited almost as if you were in bondage. Maybe that is the attraction to some. As much as we both appreciate some aspects of bondage, this is not it.

This is not to say that we don’t have snacks, coffee, and such, in bed. We do often, and it is enjoyable, but limited in scope. We find it great to sit in bed watching a movie while eating ice cream, drinking coffee, or munching on some fruit. Even an occasional slice of cake with tea is great, in spite of the crumbs that I would have to sweep off the sheet afterward.

As long as you are not too ill to eat at a table, I would like to know what you get out of eating a meal in bed. Is it some kind of rare treat? Is it something that satisfies a craving for service? Is it just decadence that your servant supports for you? Am I missing some pleasure here?

What Is It With Strap-ons?

You can see them prominently on web sites that sell sex toys. You can read about them on blogs, forums, short stories, and books. They must have a value, or else people would not spend their money on them. I wonder, however, what the value is.

I maintain a few dozen blog addresses within the FLR genre that I visit from time to time. A strap-on device has come up in many. I have yet to do some research on how many blogs out of 100, how often, and whether a male or female brings it up. If any of you out there want to do that, or have done it, please let me know. In standard raunchy low-grade pornography a strap-on is essential. Jokes and cartoons deal with it as if it were standard issue to any adult relationship. Even my wife and I have one, although I don’t remember how or when we acquired it.

In view of my observation, I wonder who really uses it, and for what purpose. Sure, I know, it is supposed to simulate a male appendage. I can’t really go by the porno clips, because, with rare exceptions, they are only simulations of what could happen between two consenting or semi-consenting adults.

I can see two women using it on each other when no male member is available or desired. But most often in the FLR blogs it is the man who is obsessed with it and its potential usage regardless the circumstances, methods, or objectives. It is he who wants to be dominated by the wielder of this toy to simulate how a man would otherwise dominate another man or a woman. I can see the symbolic significance as a means of submission. He either does not desire another man to penetrate him such, or does not have a convenient man to do it for him. Next best, of course, is to have a woman strap it on, and then do it to him. I must be fair here. He may never want a real man to do that to him, all he wants is to submit to the woman. As a sign of conquest, she complies with his wishes.

I am not making light of this complex issue. In view of my not having intimate knowledge of the experience, I may not have a right to even mention it. I do it because I find it interesting. Male readers who are into the practice please do not think that I am being judgmental or making fun of you. I am merely curious.

I mentioned penetration without being specific. A woman has a definite advantage in offering three orifices to penetration, whereas a man has at most two. Worse even, the man’s offerings are stilted, unless the conqueror is turned on by the available options: the anus is not as pristine and attractive as the vagina. As for the mouth, well, read on.

Male to male oral penetration makes sense. I suppose it can be as thrilling as male to female oral penetration depending on the circumstances, and when we are talking real members, not simulated ones. However, when a woman dons a strap-on and forces her man to suck it, several thoughts occur to me, none explaining the situation adequately. These plastic or rubber devices have various shapes and sizes, but few look realistic. In addition, they exude an odor that is reminiscent of chemicals, not sex. I assume that the texture and the suppleness may come close to the real thing as long as the man is blindfolded. I just don’t see how he can overcome the smell or taste unless the dildo has been masked in some potent female juice prior to the oral attempt.

The other half of the questionable situation is this: “Why would a woman want to have her man suck a dildo?” Is she doing it because she gets some sexual or power exchange thrill out of it, or is it because her man indicated that it turns him on?

Then we come to anal penetration using a strap-on device. I suppose it could happen between a pair of homosexual men, one of whom can’t get it up, so he relies on a reasonable facsimile. In general, it would be a woman wearing the dildo, and penetrating a man. In this scenario we may disregard the look, smell, or flavor of the device, since the male anus is incapable of discerning any of that. Down there, it is the size that is perceived as the primary descriptor of the prosthetic member. I suppose it is a rare case when the woman is thrilled by this, and she is doing it against her man’s wishes, regardless of what cheap pornography or erotic novels say. So I ask, “What does a woman get out of this act?” It is unlikely to be sexually thrilling in most cases. Sure, her brain may be her greatest sex organ, but I doubt that many women will have their brains stimulated enough to orgasm in this manner, usually because of the loose and distant connection between the device and the brain.

There is one other scenario. I have read about this in supposed real cases. That is when the woman forces the man to put a hollow strap-on device over his penis, and then she uses him as an animated dildo. He is unable to get enough stimulation to orgasm even if she allowed him to achieve one. Yet she can orgasm as many times as she is capable, assuming the dildo feels like the real thing. This assumption may be wrong, because the artificial device does not have the feeling to feed back to the man, and it could irritate her most sensitive parts if staying with it long. Whereas, with the real thing, irritation is seldom an issue. The other thing is, my understanding of female orgasm is that she is less likely to achieve one through penetration by a device, as opposed to manual or oral stimulation with or without penetration by a device or the real thing.

Just to show that I am not entirely a virgin, here is what I have experienced. While having plain vanilla sex, my wife has used her finger to play with and once or twice penetrate me down there just as I was achieving a glorious orgasm. It was not necessary, but it helped, and I liked it. Once before, she tried to use a small dildo as she had me leaning on the edge of the bed face down. She missed her target, and pressed hard anyway. I tried everything to pull away, so she finally stopped. Later she asked me how it was. “You were trying to create another hole down there,” I explained. We have not tried it since then. I would not object if we tried again, but I would have to be convinced that we are doing it because she wants it, not because she thinks that I want it.

I have raised several issues above. I would like to hear from anyone with experience who can answer my questions, or can shed light on the details of the issues. What I especially would like to know, is, whether a woman gets anything out of penetrating a man with a strap-on device, and if so, what it is?

Conflicting Goals

The Greatness of Some Women

I am sure that all of us who love, respect, and admire women could name some who are or were clearly superior to most of us: Eleanor Roosevelt, Margaret Thatcher, Mother Teresa, Indira Gandhi, Golda Meir, the list is long. Even within our acquaintances we could name many. In my work I greatly admired some women who were superior to me.

I know I have been trying to debunk the Female Supremacy Religion by citing examples where it is clearly not valid. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and hear something I did not say. It is time I did at least lip service to show that some women are superior. I will say that emphatically here and now: “Some women are clearly superior to other women, and to some men.” I am not equivocating, neither am I trying to be vague or facetious. Of course, this does not dispute my previous analyses and anecdotal examples. I also want to be sure that we have our terms right.

First, define supremacy, which is based on supreme: Greatest or maximal in degree. To demonstrate how not to use the term we could get silly and say, “Mankind is supreme.” Uncle Joe while rocking on the porch would spit out the wheat stalk that he had been chewing, and note, “Bubba at the bait shop ain’t supreme. He dum as a brick.”

Next, define superior: Of higher rank, quality, or importance. This is the meaning that I like to assign to persons, as opposed to subgroups such as gender, race, etc.

Is She Fake or Stupid?

I have comments that I withheld lately when I read the blog at Yes, I'm a submissive man. I used to comment, but with the advent of some insane readers’ tirades I felt like I was wandering in the dark of a small yard where several large dogs have done food processing: from time to time I stepped in it. For this reason I don’t comment on that blog any more. However, I can write about it here. The blogger on his May 8, 2010 posting dredged the unsavory depths of Internet to come up with an advertisement on Craigslist by a supposed female. I will not quote the entire advertisement, except the parts that grabbed my attention for its conflicting statement of purpose:

“… Attractive, slender, naturally dominant 44 y.o. woman seeks genuine slave. I'm a vivacious, fun person to be with -- well educated, cultured, elegant [but she is not humble]. Love arts, theater, dance, trying new things, travel, enjoying life. I am looking for a true, naturally submissive gentleman who has a powerful craving to serve a powerfully dominant woman 24/7. I am a female supremacist. You should know what that entails. I enjoy feminization, spanking, paddling, chastity, and humiliation. I will rule you…”

There is a lot more. The item that drew my attention is that she emphasizes being a female supremacist and that she enjoys feminization. Ok so far. However, she wants an inferior male for her slave whom she would try to turn into a pseudo female. Would not it be more simple to get a female slave, and skip the ill-fated attemp? At least she would be starting with another supreme being in this transformation. Now, if she is really supreme on account of having a vagina, then some other person without that crucial organ is inferior. Indeed, she wants a slave, and by definition a slave is inferior to the owner. Alas, a male slave, no matter how feminized, will never become as superior as she is on account of having the wrong organ down there.

Maybe, if she goes far enough with the feminization, he will become a she, and therefore superior. But, according to her advertisement, she did not want a suprerior female for a slave. She wanted a male whom she can turn into a female who is naturally superior, but still her slave. She then goes on to say,

“…You will be my obedient wife, completely monogamous and devoted….

“…You should have financial security and freedom to fulfill the role I require. Physically Fit. Energetic. Smart. Witty. Amusing.”

Does anyone see where this is going? Sounds to me as if she is trying to find something good, and then destroy it.

I have some ideas of what this is about. My first guess is that this is, a man’s fantasy. He is masquerading as a dominant female and tries to have fun at the expense of some schmucks who will believe him.

The next possibility is that she is indeed a female who is trying to cash in on the gullible male whom she will ensnare with the grandiose presentation of her self-bestowed supremeness. If the man is less intelligent than she is, he will go with it, and pay dearly. Based on her mentioning “financial security” twice, this is likely.

A third possibility is that she is as stupid as any man who would take her up on her offer, and they will do each other harm, but there will be no intelligent life lost.

I am not excluding the possibility that she is intelligent, even superior to many, and that she really wants a male slave. I also grant the possibility that a male would or could be happy serving her until his money runs out. Alas, I think that is a very small chance. Her requirements and goals are contradictory, therefore, she is either fake or stupid.

You vulnerable men out there, you don’t want to serve a fake or a stupid person. At best it would be a waste of your time. But it would likely be worse.

Some Women Are Not That Supreme

Repeat after me, “Female supremacy is not the same as women in charge!”

Every once in a while I read a comment or a blog posting by some starry-eyed schmuck who is all ready for becoming the subject of female supremacy. To him any female is superior, and any male is inferior.

Even in my fantasy, which is quite capable, I can’t imagine living with that. Somehow I cannot be so chauvinistic.

I am sure, that all of you have seen examples of women who exhibited less than superior attitude, capability, demeanor, intelligence, etc. Of course, the above-mentioned starry-eyed schmucks tend to overlook that and stay within their limited minds thinking, “When women take over, all will be well.”

In law enforcement I have been exposed to situations that most of the civilians could not and would not touch with a ten-foot pole. After all, they call us to take care of the emergency situation. Trust me, I have not seen a clear demonstration of female superiority over all these years except in very few individual cases.

I also worked as a professional in the civilian sector for years, and dealt with coworkers, bosses, customers, and CEOs of both genders. They were well educated, and capable. However, being female did not come with God’s endowment of superiority in that venue either. I encountered assholes of both genders in about the same proportion as their respective population in the work force.

A more recent experience I had was when I took my pound-puppy to the veterinarian for some tests and inoculations that were due. He is a sixty-pound bundle of joy who will lick my face at any opportunity, and would share my bed if I let him. He is also fierce with intruders and those who have not been introduced to him by me or my wife. When at the vet, I held him on a leash with a choke chain, which is the only semi-humane confinement that works with him due to the huge neck that he has and the force he can exert. In the waiting room, I had him at the end of his leash as he lounged on the floor. A woman came in and sat on one of the chairs about four feet from my dog. She had a small mutt in her lap. The mutt had a hyperactive attitude, and began to bark at my dog right away. My dog stood and studied the pair without getting closer. He showed some teeth, but I think he was just smiling, for there was no menacing growl accompanying.

The woman snarled, “Take care of your damned dog, he is bothering us!”

I assessed the situation, and reeled in my pup by about a foot, giving the woman five feet of space between us. The woman’s little dog continued to whine and bark irritating the staff, the humans, and the feline and canine patients. I figured that she would have enough after a while, and step outside to wait her turn with the vet. Not so. She continued, “Hold your damned dog. I’ve had about enough of him, dammit!” She went on making similar but increasingly more abrasive comments including profanity.

I gave her a meaningful look, but did nothing otherwise. My dog sat down and mostly ignored the situation. My turn came at the counter with the receptionist, so I stood, and interrupted  the woman's bitching, “I heard you the first time,” with a voice that I use effectively as officer presence in law enforcement. I was hoping that she would realize how irritating she has been behaving and would stop. That really set her off, and she resumed with increased profanity, with her stupid little mutt supporting her attitude at high volume. One of the staff went to her and tried to talk her into going into one of the examination rooms. The woman was almost out of control, yelling, “So, now you’re putting me in timeout?” but she went with the staff after all. When the door closed, the half dozen people all looked relived and somewhat amused.

This long short story demonstrates that a person is not superior because of some magic that her chromosomes perform at conception. A person is superior only by what she or he does under some circumstances that the rest of us would be unable or unwilling to do.

If you think otherwise, I hope that you will not become disillusioned when you encounter a person like the one I just described, and you are the recipient of her ill-mannered stupidity. Then again, maybe you will orgasm at the verbal abuse she gives you. Of course, that does not make her superior; rather, it makes you inferior.

Thoughts On Being Owned By A Woman …

The subject is obviously fascinating to many men, and I suppose, to some women who are on the submissive lesbian side. I was reading an older post whose writer brought up the subject at Things I Think Thursday :

“For me, having a woman declaring ownership of me is one of the most exciting aspects of femdom. It thrills me for her to think of me as an object she owns to use whenever and wherever the hell she wants. Even in my countless vanilla relationships, when the woman sternly told me, “I don’t share. You belong to me.” I would instantly get a hard on. I’m surprised the femdom ritual of verbally declaring her ownership is not a larger part of the femdom discussion.”

I happen to like everything this man writes for the reason that I have many of the same feelings and desires. What I find odd, however, is that some men fully expect to find a woman who will own them in such way. It is a great fantasy. I have even written a book that deals with that. It is a common wish in real Female Led Relationships, and most common in fake blogs whose writers purport to be a woman’s slave or property.

The problem with the idea is too big to resolve simply by the woman saying, “I now own you.” The idea is understandable. The extent of it is difficult to define. The reality of it is entirely impractical.

Understanding the idea is easy, you can look up the meaning of words and phrases in legitimate reference material (I don’t mean sex forums and blogs). Trouble begins when one tries to define the ownership in the particular circumstance of this couple. She must go to some detail in defining the rules of ownership, and the rules of her owned object. It does not take long before the whole attempt is mired in contradictory, redundant, and ill-defined terminology and silly rules too difficult to remember by either party. Most of the rules would have to do with the man’s or woman’s sexual fantasy, for the reality of the rest of their everyday lives cannot be binding by these rules.

Take for instance an ideal scenario in which a man and a woman enter this relationship. They are young but experienced, married or committed to the relationship; neither has children, family obligations, major loans, etc. The owner/object relationship can kick in overnight, and could be some fun for a while. However, there will be clouds over the horizon soon. Who is earning the living for the both of them? Who is paying the rent? Who is paying the bills? Who has a stake in the household? Who is planning for investment for his or her later years? Who is paying the taxes? If the woman is completely in charge, she has a huge job to do. Does she want to give explicit directions to her object about everything trivial? Does she want to monitor his behavior and punish him if he deviates from the complex rules? When is she going to relax and just use her object as described in this fantasy? Yet, this is the ideal scenario, not some lesser version.

What if they are not in the ideal scenario?

What if there are children from various litters between them? What if one of them becomes ill or falls to an accidental injury? What if the provider loses his or her job? What if her object realizes that he is being screwed but not in a good way? If the owner dies, does the object become destitute?

Reality will soon smack her object in the lips, and he will want to change things. Then again, the owner (she) may tire of the constant responsibility that only she has, after all, her object is not allowed to do anything other than what she orders.

The ridiculousness of the scenario should be obvious by now. Being owned by a woman is a wonderfully satisfying game as long as they both are willing to play it. However, it is not going to be 24/7 for very long. Both parties will hit the road with their butts as they fall off the fast moving conveyance of this sexually charged fantasy. Unless the two of them remain eternally young, healthy, carefree, unattached, and willing to play the game, at some point the game will be over. That is when family, civic, and community responsibility will surface. Lawyers, realtors, employers, and bill and tax collectors will begin to interfere with the game. At some point thoughts of (gasp!) age, retirement, insurance, medical needs will become important. The ownership/object relationship cannot provide that. What it can provide is an occasional game that serves to release tension of everyday life from time to time. Meanwhile somebody needs to be in charge, but both will have real responsibilities not as owner/object but as man/woman who share a life. Without that, even the game will not last.