Five Finger Discount For Backdoor Beauties

As of late, I’ve found that I’ve been giving a lot of sex advice. The advice covers a pretty broad spectrum too. I give it to girls as well as guys. Everything from which toys to get, commenting on a position, cougar hunting techniques, to how to enjoy anal sex (I don’t know, I just do…). I find that I really enjoy giving this advice. First off, I get to sit back and think about sex for a while, and who doesn’t love to do that. Secondly, it forces me to evaluate what I’m thinking about and try to explain the reasoning behind why I do what I do, and it forces me to organize my thoughts a bit. But more importantly than any of the other reasons, it allows me to maintain an erection for the better part of my work week. Any one of us can have a boner/wet vagina when you are sitting in front of the computer with your dick/vagina in/surrounding your hand/fingers, but I can do it all week long in a trailer full of dudes that are constantly pissed off about work and their spouse that no longer touches them sexually. It is sort of my workplace “boner zen”.

The long and short of it all: Keep those questions cuming!

I took some time the other day to write the following proverb that sort of sums up a lot of my advice: (read: My mother sent me the following…thanks mom!)

A young boy traveled across Japan to study with a famous martial artist. The master asked him what he wanted. The young boy told him he wanted to be the finest martial artist in the land and asked how long he had to study. “Ten years, at least,” the master answered. “But what if I studied twice as hard as all your other students,” the young boy responded. “Twenty years,” replied the master. “Twenty years! What if I practice day and night with all my effort?” “Thirty years, “was the master’s reply. The boy was thoroughly confused. “How is it that each time I say I will work harder, you tell me that it will take longer?” the boy asked. “The answer is clear. When one eye is fixed upon your destination, there is only one eye left with which to find the Way.”

Observation. I think it is one of the most important aspects of life. By observing your surrounding instead of focusing on the prize, you are simply allowing your brain the time and energy needed to create patterning. This is just simple associations that you constantly make in your everyday life. How do you know that a ball is going to come racing back to the earth once you release it towards the sky? You have seen the pattern before. You may not have ever thrown a ball in that exact spot, but your brain makes the association with previous throws you’ve observed, whether it was you or somebody else that threw the ball.

I feel that observation is also a key to great sex (I also believe this holds true to all of life, but I want to keep this hardon rockin. So I’m just going to stick to the sex part right now.). It’s so easy to get self absorbed when you are balls deep in a sexy girl. Your brain is spitting out endorphins like a pissed off camel and it feels great to ride that rush (side note: the word endorphin consists of two parts: endo- and -orphin; these are short forms of the words endogenous and morphine, intended to mean "a morphine-like substance originating from within the body."). But until you take time to really observe during sex, your brain won’t be able to make many associations beyond “putting your dick in a vagina == brain morphine and a cock shotgun of man-butter”. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with heading down to the skeet club and firing off a couple quick rounds, but let’s not pretend that that is the pinnacle of sexual activity.

I’ve been spending a lot of time observing during sexy. I pay close attention to small details, and the event(s) that led up to it. When I kiss a girls neck, I’ll feel for goosebumps on her arms, or see if the hair on the back of her neck stands up a bit. I change the speed/angle/power when I’m hittin a girl doggy style and then notice how her obliques and calf muscles contract and relax. This and many other observations are all just part of simple patterning. Every person has there own little buttons that make them click, but for the most part the human animal is pretty easy to predict once you understand the patterns.

Back to my proverb and why I like it so much: Fisting and Anal. I love both! They are also both like martial arts in the story. The harder you go after them with a straight forward focus, the longer it will take you to achieve either. A man that wants nothing more than to blast away on the backdoor of some beauty better know a pornstar with a hallway for an asshole that he can just toss his hotdog down (they are out there, but good luck finding them…for free).

Anal and fisting has less to do with the physics of “can this fit in here” and more to do with the art of pleasure. Taking what we’ve learned about the root of the word endorphin, and apply it to fisting and backdoor love. Endorphins numb the senses enough that sensations that were previously shocking to the system can now be pleasurable.

When I fist I often start by pleasing her whole body. Be it kisses, bites, nibbles or licks, it doesn’t really matter. It just matters that you are starting to trigger all of her senses. Then I spend a great deal of time giving her oral. I switch the majority of my attention back and forth between her clit with my tongue and her gspot with my fingers. Every time I feel her cumming on my fingers and it gets tight, I whip up a frenzy of tongue pleasure on her clit. This will cause her ham-wallet to relax and open up, and like a professional pick-pocket, I give her another digit. I continue this back and forth process, but the whole time I’m observing. Watching her hands grip the bed sheets. Hear her breaths in and out and adjust what I do accordingly.

Anal is the same way with me. I work hard to please. I don’t work hard to get anal (but it sure is hard when working), and when I do it well (read: not blackout drunk), it is a screaming train of O-faces that we both love.

How could I not love it…I’m the conductor!

Back In The U.S.S.R...

Well I’m back to work out in the Midwest and that can only mean one thing: Time to start blogging again. I know I’ve been away for a while and have left my readers hanging. I left all of you poor souls adrift in a sea of misdirection, clinging to any faux-virtue or belief system that the mass media passes off as hip. But fear not, your RSS reader will soon bloom back to bold on a semi-regular basis.

Blogging is sort of like taking pictures. I never want to take pictures when I’m doing the things that I would want pictures of later. When there are events in my life worth writing about, I rarely want to take the time to sit down and jot down my thoughts. All I really want to do is keep licking, wrestling, stroking, paddling or sticking whatever it was that got my attention in the first place. Luckily for you, I’m back in Wisconsin, and that means I’ll be planted in front of this laptop that serves as my work station, memory capturing device and virtual girlfriend for vast periods of time.

I’ll catch you up to speed on the last week of no entries. I flew back into Billings for a bit of the normal weekend affairs. Anonymous_Blogger landed in BIL the next day. Went and got all sorts of wasted down at a bar called Bin 911. Not sure why they called it that, because there is no way you could crash a plane into that place. It’s tiny! Maybe if you were an expert paraglider you could crash into that place, but I’ll bet you get hung up on the sail art thing at the intersection. I’ll check with Male Nurse and let you know what the probability is that you can make it work.

Did some floating, drinking, jiu jitsu, outdoor sex and anal. All things that I really enjoy.

I also just found out that I have a hook-up for the green in Wisconsin. I’m really, and let me just repeat that point, REALLY jazzed about that. I’ll give you an update on the nug quality after I’ve sampled the goods.

Peace and Tsao be with you.

FTW (For The Win)

As you may be starting to understand, Tsaoism has its roots in energy. More specifically, the flow of energy. How energy ALWAYS flows from higher levels of energy to lower. This can be in the form of chemical energy, kinetic energy, potential energy, radioactive energy, heat, etc. So in a closed system, entropy always exists. After a given process, the amount of usable energy will have decreased.

Many of these energies are shown via the human vehicle. The human vehicle is a terribly inefficient machine, but it carries with it the human mind. Turns out the human mind is pretty amazing (Really, all brains are pretty impressive. Why do you think Zombies want them so much). The mind has come up with so many amazing ways to conserve energy. Look at everything around you. Pretty much all of it was designed as a way to save energy. Phones eliminated the need to walk to somebody in order to communicate. Cell phones took that a step further and eliminated the need to walk to a phone. Planes, trains and automobiles allowed us to travel great distances without expending much energy at all (Unless you count jerking off in the airplane bathroom. Stupid 3oz bottle rule on an airplane...you know how hard it is to find lotion in container that small?). Even our daily habits are designed to save energy. For instance, you no longer have to travel to a small hill outside of the Rehberg Ranch to hear the glorious teachings of Tsaoism.

These energy saving ideas transcend all humankind. So when we are able to collect data on the majority of the worlds population, we can take a glimpse at the progress our societies have made towards becoming more efficient machines. I got that chance today with trends.google.com.

Looks like the world is finding a better, smarter and more efficient way to answer all of lifes questions: XXXXX

My First Pro Game

I’m struggling today. I think I may have not received the hours of sleep that my body desires, or perhaps my body is just tired of me sending it to work every day without the THC paycheck that I usually reward it with at the close of my workday. Either way, I am sitting down to write at work (7:45AM), because if I don’t, I will soon be drooling on my keyboard and waking up to a document that is 237 pages of the letter “k”. I wish there was at least a female sitting in this trailer with me. Sexual daydreams can get me through the most grueling of days, but they tend to require more than pure imagination this early in the day. Right now my brain only wants to hump a pillow with the side of my head.

I’ve been a horny bastard for as long as I can remember. I’m talking WAY back. Even before my brother (younger) found a huge stack of penthouse magazines in the dumpster so many years ago (Side note: That was prior to penthouse going all soft and shitty and much, much earlier than internet and Victoria Secret catalogs. That was a GREAT summer). It wasn’t until the summer of ’01 that I took my A-game from the batting cages out to the Field of Dreams to see if I could hit in a real life game scenario.

I had just finished my first year at Butte and me and my family were heading up to Missoula for brother-the-elder's graduation ceremony. These trips always meant two things to me: 1) My parents were going to be staying at a hotel, while my younger brother and I were going to be staying at my older brother’s house. 2) I was going to be hurting in the morning.

That night we all went out to…ummm…somewhere. I really have no clue. I just remember my older brother tapping out early, and his roommate Christian asking if I wanted to keep the booze flowing. I did. Christian was with his girlfriend and another girl and they wanted to dance, so we ended up at some dance-club type place and continued to drink. The specifics of the night are far from clear, but I do remember waking up and feeling like there were Mech-warriors doing battle on the surface of my brain. That was the worse graduation I've seen to date. The pain stayed with me for quite some time too. Enough so, that at the end of the day, I was far more jazzed about putting my head down to rest than drinking another PBR.

My brother and I were sleeping on the floor of Matt’s room in sleeping bags, he was out drinking and then the door to the room opened. I’m not sure I even paid any attention until I noticed that it was the girl from the night before. She had just come in to “say goodbye”. I was pretty sure we had covered that the night before, but what the hell, I’ll give her a goodbye hug.

She wasted no time on turning that hug into some tongue wrestling. Damn! This girl was there to get down. Sadly, at this stage in my life, my sexual radar was weak to quite weak to say the least. She was there for meat and I was thinking “boy, this sure is quite the goodbye hug”. This went on for quite a while. I know this because my younger brother was still on the floor and doing his damnedist to make it stop without appearing to really be awake.

Me and (I’m going to need a name here…) Gary’s Seconds: Suck, slurp, smack, suck, kiss, slurp

Annoymous_Blogger: WIGGLE (read: sleeping bag noises)

GS: giggle…

Me and GS: Suck, slurp, smack, suck, kiss, slurp

AB: WIGGLE WIGGLE

Me (in a whisper): Want to go up to the bed?

GS: Ya

We move up to my older brother's bed.

Me and GS: Suck, slurp, smack, suck, kiss, slurp

AB: WIGGLEWIGGLEWIGGLEWIGGLEWIGGLE (gets up, grabs sleeping bag and walks out of the room.)

Well this is all Gary’s Seconds need as far as a green light goes. She slammed the petal to the floor, dumped the clutch and let her tires spin! In no time at all she had removed all of her clothes, all of my clothes and slid herself into missionary position. I though for about 1/32^nd of a second about whether or not I should go through with this, then hipped forward into a new era. An era of Tsaoism. Not to mention hipping forward into a VERY wet vagina. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was soaked (due to my inexperience in the study of coitus). I was just thinking “I wish my hand felt like this”.

I don’t remember much of the details as far as how long it lasted, but I do know that it was purely missionary and void of all other heavy petting. That and I made a potentially grave mistake: I put my custard filling in that éclair. After a awkward discussion of the whereabouts of my man-juice, she gave me a quick lesson on the effectiveness of birth control. Mainly that it isn’t 100%, and that it would have been a much better idea to load elsewhere (Thanks for nothing catholic schools! A lesson in skeet during “health class” would have not only kept my attention, but been applicable to the real world! Jesus sure is a shitty spermicide!).

We both put our clothes back on and say our actual goodbyes and she goes on her way. I crawl back into my sleeping bag and pretend that I’m going to be able to go to sleep (That was awesome…oh fuck is she going to get pregnant…that was awesome…oh fuck is she going to get pregnant, etc). Not long after that my brothers come back into the room that I had previously reserved as a rent by the minute motel, and each went to their respective beds. Younger to the floor, older to his bed…

Older Brother: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!

Gary’s Seconds had made a bit of a mess. A BIG bit of a mess. A lake to sum it up in one word (not bad for my first “at bat”).

Me: Umm…rest assured that those are all HER liquids.

He bitched and moaned (not the kind of fun moaning that was just in my ear) for a while, then went to the bathroom, grabbed some towels, laid them across Loch Ness and crawled into bed.

Let it be said that I am forever indebted to my older brother for that one. Way to take it like a man-bear-pig (Yes. That is a compliment). I’m serial.

Anonymous_Blogger, I never did apologize for keeping you up that night…

Nope, never did that.

Dogs In A Bathtub

Part of my blogging stems from my desire to organize my thoughts in such a way that I can clearly explain, through written text, my thoughts and emotions. Many times my thoughts are like a thousand gerbils in a house (read: Richard Gere) with a cat chasing them. Every thought is going a different direction at a different speed (in short, a different velocity...which is a vector instead of the two scalars I just gave you). Sometimes I feel like I write well, and the reader clearly understands the points I try to make. I paint a mental picture that is easy to visualize. Other times I feel like I "rite good", and leave the reader scratching his nuts/her...um, whatever girls scratch when they are confused. Ovaries?

Most of the time I feel that it is my lack of skill as a writer or my limited vocabulary that keeps me from painting these mental images, but there are a select few times that I truly believe that all the words from earths many, many languages couldn't accurately portray what I'm trying to drive home.

Today I had one of those thoughts.

For reasons that shall remain undefined, I was gmail chatting about tea bagging. The fine art where a male places his nuts (read: tea bags) inside of a male or females mouth (read: tea cup). When I was having this discussion I was under the impression that tea bagging was just placing testicles and scrotum on another's forehead, and that if the balls were going in the mouth, that it was "Dogs in a bathtub". Getting the first one in there is simple, but as soon as you go to put the next dog in the bath the first one jumps out. Water goes everywhere and you are right back where you were seconds before. Talking about this was all well-and-good, but I really wanted to solidify exactly what I was talking about. I pulled out my trusty pen and pad, and whipped together a small masterpiece.

I present to you "Dogs In A Bathtub":

Two Birds, One Coug

I haven’t always been a hunter. In fact, as a child I was really against the whole idea behind hunting. It wasn’t until I had my first taste of the thrill of the hunt, that I knew I would be a lifetime hunter. I didn’t bag a mountain lion (read: cougar) that night, but I think it drove my desire more than if I would have made the kill.

We’ll fast forward to July ’07. My brothers and I had congregated up at the family lake place (which may be a stretch to call it that) because my brother-the-younger was “running” the show up there and my brother-the-elder was out in Montana for work. As per standard operating procedure, we decided to have a bonfire accompanied with a suspended sack-o-wine and homemade tunes.

A couple females joined the T-berry boys’ shenanigans and ballyhoo that night. One of them being the PhD that brother-the-elder got his master’s degree under. She is a shorter, cute, sporty lady that had been through a less than fun divorce and was ready to party down. Luckily for her, she was with the right crowd.

The night got started per usual: Drinking beers and doing 3^rd party administered shots of wine. 3^rd party administered is the only way to go, as it doesn’t allow the consumer to decide when enough is enough. The shot pourer gets the privilege of deciding how much you need. And at the cabin this person was usually James…drunk James…drunk James that is working hard to get you to the level of “I’m going to make a bad (read: fun) decision”. That is exactly what we did too: Got to that level. I believe there was 6 of us there, and we all locked arms together in a mini drinking circle and shuffled around like a little wheel. Each time you were under the sack of wine you took a drink then continued to shuffle to the left. I’m not exactly sure how many circles it takes to drain a sack of wine using that method, but I do know that we had that many in us that night. We finished that bitch off proper.

At this point I think it is safe to say that most of us were on the blackout/verge of blackout stage and feeling good. We sat by the fire and continued to shoot the shit when I noticed that El Doctor, who was one row below me, had her hand on my knee and was leaning against me. I was golden…In. Like. Flint. I shuffled my way over so that she was between my legs and we proceed to give each other the type of touch that says “hey, when these other people get out of here, we really ought to get our groove thang on!” Sure enough the other drunks peeled off and went up to the cabin to pass out (Or perhaps, even better, they walked up into the woods about 30 ft for the show that was sure to ensue. That's what I would have done) After the last person rounded the corner El Doctor and I started to tongue wrestle.

30 seconds later…

El Doctor: Do you have a condom?

Me: Nope.

El Doctor: I have some in my car. I’ll be right back…

I took the time that it took her to wander up to her car and back to lounge back on the rocks, smile to myself and stare at the fire that was half blocked by the circus tent that I was pitching with my pants.

When she came back, we went right to work. It was a good time too! Those little girls are fun. Their lightness allows for a lot of acrobatic type positions (My only complaint with small girls is bottoming out. It’s really a bummer when you can’t do certain moves without that “it feels like you are stabbing me with a knife in my belly” look in her face). We were flipping around on those big flat rocks like two pancakes being cooked by a blacked-out dude at 3:30am. Did this for quite some time and then headed up to the cabin.

I hadn’t busted a nut yet, so as soon as we hit the bed we were back at it. This didn’t last long as we were both fading hard. Or fading soft in my case…

I woke up and we were a bit cuddled up and my hand was on her breast. Being the Tsaoist that I am, I instinctually started to play with it.

El Doctor: Keev, that is making me really horny.

Sure as shit her nipples had just jumped to attention like the cooking indicator on a butterball turkey. This caused a Pavlov’s dog effect, and my morning cedar turned to morning maple. I mean Louisville Slugger hard. In no time we were off to the races. I’m not sure who won, but I know I had a strong finish.

There is something about hungover morning sex. When my eyes open, I’m ready to go. That mixture of “I feel like death” and “god this feels good” has me percolating so fast.

After that sexual kick-start to my day, I was ready to go. I had just killed two birds with one stone: I bagged my first coug, and I hooked up with my first doctor AND professor. Damn, 3 birds one stone. That stone must have been fired from a sawed off 12 gauge of desire! Well we all got up out of bed, the girls went on there way, and my brothers and I had a great day. Not sure what we did, but I’m sure it was great.

I'm Dumb

After a string of errors longer than I care to count, I've decided that I'm just going to link to my newest post. I have no effin clue why I can't get it to populate itself at the top of the list. I think it may be some sort of karma test. Fear not, I kept my cool. I was also able to burn up about an hour of my Tuesday work morning.