distracted?
I know you were reading hot action in the computer lab.
You are totally busted.
You can't deny it, I know you've got a dirty mind...
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January 29, 2004
small & juicy
Here's something I'd randomly scribbled in my notebook at the club one night and never got around to posting.
~ It's 11PM; ridiculously early by the standards of a club that's open until 3:30 in the morning. The DJ is warming up the room with some downtempo, some hiphop.
It's unusual for anyone to be on the dancefloor this early in the evening at the Marquee, but there they are. Half-a-dozen women dancing in a small circle.
Small-breasted women, getting on down with their crazy, freaky small-breasted energy. These women cannot wait for the party to get started.
Everyone knows of my love for tall women... Amazonian women... buxom women. I'm sure my evil eye will always tend to gravitate towards the tallest hot woman in any room.
But I have to take a moment to sing the praises of the under-endowed.
When it comes right down to being naked in a bed, there is something teeth-gnashingly hot about small-breasted women. I'm not sure why.
Perhaps it offers an illusion of vulnerability that brings out the dom in me, that makes me want to thrust my tongue into her little pussy and then just nail her to the floor.
I once read somewhere--it may be a myth--that all women have the same number of nerve endings in their breasts. However, in small-breasted women, these nerve endings are concentrated in such a smaller area, and it makes their breasts quite a bit more sensitive.
Breast sensitivity is probably a more significant characteristic to me than size or shape.
I would define "sensitive" breasts as those that you cannot touch without causing a woman to completely lose her train of thought.
Example: "So I was going to get a ride with Cathy's boyfriend, but it turns out he has to work late, so Cathy said she would pick up the car and then MMMMmmmmm... Oh I can't think when you do that."
Small-breasted women often skip the bras, which is a bonus. It's irresistible to slide your hand up under their shirt and feel them up, anytime, anywhere.
Instead of bras, they wear these things called "camisoles." I've noticed a tendency to try to keep the camisole on during sex. That's because they totally freak out if you grab their titties while you're slamming them. It's awesome. Their hard little knockers are almost acting like a pair of chest-mounted clits.
Certainly I've met buxom women with super-sensitive breasts. It just doesn't seem as common. The thing that makes me wonder about the size/sensitivity connection is the fact that a good deal of breast sensitivity seems to be centered around the nipple. (Nipples are worthy of a whole post unto themselves. Sometimes I wonder if women even realize what a big deal guys make about their nipple characteristics.)
Supposedly our society has a cultural preference towards large breasts. I hope you ladies aren't taking that too seriously. Most guys I know with any amount of sexual experience are simply big fans of boobs, in all their infinite variety. To quote a certain local rock star, "They gotta be some pretty nasty ol' titties for me not to like 'em."
Regardless of whether they are small, large or the perfect hand-size... a skin-tight t-shirt or tank top is always going to work wonders for you.
'morning, honey!'
~ January 26 was the second anniversary of this blog. I couldn't have asked for a better way to observe the occasion than by waking up next to a gorgeous, horny woman. We got frisky right off the bat. Yummy yum yum.
At one point I observed, "A tangy mixture of sweat, lube, pussy juice and semen is currently drying up on the sensitive skin of my scrotum. This is why men are always scratching their balls."
Time for a shower I guess.
~ I like sex first thing in the morning. My kind of woman is a woman who likes sex first thing in the morning.
Fortunately for us, fellas, there are just enough of these women around that we shouldn't have to settle for anything less.
Last week at the bar I was talking to a lady who was making the typical female complaint: men who started humping her leg first thing in the morning, before her eyes were even fully open.
I said, "Yeah, it sucks to have that perfect sleepy feeling ruined by someone who just wants to get all over you. But then again, now you know what it's like for guys right after we have an orgasm."
morning, honey! pt.2
Recently I was greeted in the morning by a lovely lady who rolled over and said sleepily, "Hi Philip."
"My name's not Philip," I said. "'PHILIP'? Who the hell is Philip?"
Oh, the fun you can have.
chatty
I didn't realize I'd gone a week without posting. It's been a week since I've even looked at my own website.
I've been writing but not sharing, working on the hot action book. The process is slow and meticulous and a little painful, but I want it to be good. It's a little different from the blog--I'm going into a lot more detail, more personal history. The book just might answer the underlying question: "Philip, how did you ever get to be such a damn dog."
I think I need a break from that kind of polished writing. I'm craving a return to the relaxed, conversational style of blogging... so I'm just going to sit here and blabber for a while.
January 22, 2004
mmm crispers
I snapped this photo while I was tidying up my room tonight. Let's see... what treasures have fallen into the magic gap between wall and mattress?
Forgive me for using the blog cliche to explain my lack of updates: "I've been really busy lately."
(Mmm, Crispers... they're baked not fried.)
January 16, 2004
thinking clean thoughts
It is good for a young man to walk around Paris in the summertime smelling like sex.
Unfortunately, we're not in Paris, and this sure as hell ain't summertime. Our pipes are frozen and I've got no running water in the place. I reek of pussy. True, all day women have been telling me how nice I smell (note for those who don't already know: sex attracts sex). But how long can it last, until I start to feel like a dirty, dirty man.
What I'm saying is, I'll soon need to borrow someone's shower. Preferably in North End Halifax, but I'm willing to fly to Saskatoon, Brooklyn or even Paris, France if that's what it takes to get good and squeaky clean... all for the sake of getting dirty again.
Oooh I love taking showers. Long, hot, steamy showers. I do a lot of my best thinking in the shower.
By the way, it's my noodle, and I'll think as fast as I want.
January 13, 2004
solar tits
I just checked my email in my underwear. Then I checked Mark's blog and Claudette's blog.
"Looks like everybody's having fun on the Internet today except for me."
"Quick, you'd better take a funny picture and post it."
"Can I take a picture of your tits?"
"Sure, I don't care."
"I think I'm going to solarize it."
"That sounds scary."
"What, no one's ever solarized your tits before?"
