So today is a day for lovers, love, maybe self love, or not. Sure Saint Valentine probably existed, I mean he did according to some records, and sure Russell Stover‘s now follows in his footsteps but if you’re not into chocolates, flowers, lingerie, fancy dinners, cheap hotel rooms, over priced strawberries, Louie’s or the likes but you want to do something, I suggest you play the HS make out game. You remember your first high school make out session, or middle school make out session, basically whenever it was you first started making out but not going for an extra base. There was a rush of excitement just to kiss someone, to not even see naughty parts or make skin contact, it drove you crazy. We’ll here’s the game.
Make a bet with your partner, each partner picks something they really want, it can be sexual, it can be not sexual, start small but something you would try to win. For example one of you may want to go somewhere for a night and the other may want to try something new. Once the terms are agreed to, you make out high school style.
How to play:
Decide on the consideration to be received by the winner
Both partners begin with clothes on, clothes may be sexy in nature, but must be something the other would wear out in public. Begin making out. The goal is to get your partner to break the skin barrier or tap out. Pre-exposed skin does not count, neck, arms, face, the likes. You may grope outside/on top of your clothes, but once a hand goes under the clothes or a partner taps out the game is over and the other partner wins.
There can be a stalemate, when both partners have a meeting of the minds and determine there will be no winner under current rules. At which point the rules are adjusted. The consideration is also increased. You can allow to be groped under clothes, but no penetration, what have you. You then modify the consideration to something you really want. You can either restart the game then or start again another time. Play until there is a winner.
Tips and twists:
To increase the difficulty neither party can masturbate for 36 hours prior to the game
Make the loser the first one to kiss the other person but allow everything else
Allow for pregame teasing/flirting, in an attempt to gain the upper hand
At the end of the game both partners will have won in some way shape or form and had some fun doing it. Never underestimate the power of the high school make out session. It’s a game of will power, now go my little ones, go, and good luck!
Aside from a few shallow straight guys and probably fewer lesbians, most of the rest don’t care if you have bee stings or block busters. If there’s a chance they get to see them, they’re going to stare, maybe point, any blood that was going to their brain will instantly be diverted elsewhere and they will get a little excited. Honestly they probably don’t even care if they get to touch them the first time they see them, they really are just happy to have a girl that would let them see them.
I mean think about it, guys pay good money to exotic dancers just to be able to look at them. So, if you’re feeling self cautious about your boobs remember everyone loves boobs. And if you can touch them, they’re real, and if you let someone see them or touch them, that someone is going to be thankful. Maybe “very” thankful. Carry on.
I’m all for people trying to look great. It’s a nice thing, people like it, it’s good to look and feel attractive, like people think its nice, people derive some form of joy from it. What is that which brings me joy? Getting what I paid for. You go out for a nice steak dinner, you expect a nice steak dinner. You go out with a 7, you want a 7, a 10 a 10… etc etc etc you know how the number system works. What I don’t like is thinking 6 and getting 3 or 9 and 7, whatever it is. I don’t enjoy that, own that you don’t have the super model body, don’t try and fool people into thinking you do. It’s better to be less than perfect with a sexy ass thong or banana hammock on, than to appear perfect and when it comes time to pay the bill, it’s some strange granny panty looking contraption. Hell, I had a grandmother that opened a green teddy from VS in front of us one year, she blushed and my grandfather was like, bow chicka bow wow. And she wasn’t some back woods 29 year old grandmother, she was stereotypical wonderful sweet, grandmother, take your hat off inside, mind your manners grandmother. Aww, I miss her. But look, some people don’t want to think DD’s and get AA’s, they’d rather know ahead of time what the real menu is. So be proud with what you have, don’t try and tell her you’re working with an 8×10 when its a 4×2.
Every so often I’m reminded of my awesomeness. The time when my secret santa gave me a shirt that said, “Proud to be Awesome.” Or when my friends, say, “wow Mark, you’re just so awesome,” after I’ve told them I know this person or this person, or that I knew Merlin Olsen. Last night, I was reminded once again.
While walking I overheard the following conversation being had by two female strangers in a semi-public place, well they were friends I’m assuming, but they were strangers to me, danger, stranger, danger:
Girl 2: Well, what number razor are you using to shave it with?
Girl 1: A three last night, usually I go with a five but last time it didn’t look good.
Me: <Surely she didn’t mean>
Girl 2: So how does it look this time?
Girl 1: Here, I’ll show you.
Me: <Is this seriously about to happen?!>
Girl 1: <Takes off hat revealing shaved head>
Me: <Of course that’s what she meant, there you go again mind, trying to make everything dirty>
Girl 2: I thought you meant your va-jay-jay*
*This comment by Girl 2 was added to send your mind into the gutter in case it was not already there with the rest of us. Prudes. Side question, did you read semi-pubic place above? I did when I was proof reading.
“I think I’m winning”
I’m trying very hard this year to hate on things less, so today I will say, I think I admire Courtney Robertson. For nothing more than at least she owned her actions. And maybe because she feels that going on a reality television show (even though there is nothing real about reality tv shows aside from Cops) to convince a man she’s worth marrying is some form of winning. If a person can find a reason to think they are winning in life, isn’t that the only reason that matters? If this upstanding young woman, felt whatever the bachelor’s name is, could benefit from a night of skinny dipping with a model, and at the same time it might give her a vagina up on her competition, is that wrong? Is it a form of prostitution? This brave, inspirational woman should be a role model shouldn’t she? I mean how many people do you know would break the rules to show someone a good time? To do something for someone that no one else has ever done? To make that person feel special? Even if you don’t feel those are good reasons, what about the fact that she did it to keep a promise?
Look I realize she got him drunk, went skinny dipping in the ocean at night and used her looks to try and gain an advantage in life, but she did it for her reasons and her reasons made her believe that for the time she was winning. Isn’t it nice to believe we are winning at something? Even if we don’t end up winning? It’s nice to be in the lime-light even for a few seconds, even if we’re not wearing clothes, and a shark could eat us at any time, and even when everyone else may think we’re a whore. Whore’s are people too. Courtney Robertson, you are winning, Charlie Sheen would be proud.
Last night it became very apparent to me that far more people in this world have had problems controlling their bladders. And its not something they are ashamed of, and after last night, I’m not sure it is something they should be. They all seemed to own it, and as disturbed as I was at first, by the end I was like, I guess it’s common and could be worse, it’s not like they are crapping the bed…
Where was I, well it was not at a golden showers anonymous meeting or anything like that is all I can tell you. I’m sure those exist though, and if you’re here looking for such a place or looking for photos of such things, I am sorry to disappoint you, but you will not find either here. Maybe google “she peed her pants” or something like that, perhaps there will be a blog about people who do that and you can thank me for helping you on your way. What I wanted to discuss is that moment where you think you’re done and you go to zip up and there’s one last drip, and if you’re going sans skivvies, your cover is blown and you have an awkward little blotch on your pants, skirt, shorts, what have you. Like this.
It’s embarrassing on so many levels a) you have urine on your clothes b) people can see it, and c) if you’re a guy, people know what you’re working with depending on where the spot is.
I know what you’re saying, this is exactly why people in other countries buy used underwear out of vending machines! And you’re probably right.
And if that wasn’t your first thought, then your thought was probably more along the lines of, that is why people wear underwear, to keep the bathroom stains from getting on their clothes. Oh yeah, I forgot to warn you, this topic might disturb you. And that is certainly why underwear exists. But if that is the case, please explain what purpose these serve in that process?
Exactly, you don’t know. Apparently this is called a C string, for obvious reasons, but again, aside from being possibly sexy (would have to see one) is it practical for any other reason? Maybe the better question is, does it need to be?
Wasn’t this started as a blog about bed wetters? Yes, we’ve moved on, keep up people.