Have you heard the old proverb “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” I would imagine the same could be said for a woman’s heart if she is romantically wined and dined.
Valentine’s Day was just celebrated last week by many lovers sharing feasts that tempt the taste buds. I wonder about the biological road trip after dinner from the stomach to the heart that often travels to the finish line by the genitals. Dr. Baccalà’s BGL, Brain Genital Law, is also the pilot of this trip.
I called my sister in California to ask her where her husband was taking her to dinner. She proudly told me she had been in the kitchen all day making his favorite dish, spaghetti and meatballs. Thirty-five years ago, before they were married, she made a special trip to Pennsylvania to meet his Italian born grandmother. They spent…
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I called G the other day to discuss what would be the subject of the next post. Mamma mia, was he pissed off. When I asked him what was the problem, he barked out, “Cialis!” I hesitated to ask, but changed my mind. “Didn’t it work?” Because of his wonderful sense of humor, his mood abruptly changed, and he burst out laughing and answered, “Even if it were true, I wouldn’t tell you. No, I’m watching a Cialis ad, and it’s full of shit!”
He went on to explain how Cialis and Viagra ads are big time misleading and the men and women actually believe the message which is reflected in their impressive sales. “Look, the men and women in the ads are usually in their upper fifties to early sixties and are usually better looking than most Americans. The women look at…
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It was one of those rare nights that I wished I had videoed for romantic men and women to behold. It happened at G’s home during dinner with an attractive elderly widow oozing with class. As usual, it was a happy, stimulating and extremely tasty one- the food, that is. He prepared straccetti, taglierini with peas with an unidentifiable sauce, a knockout, and a small tomato, cucumber and shallot salad covered with finely chopped mint. The guy really knows how to prepare simple, tasty dishes.
It so happens that the widow has exceptionally beautiful and expressive eyes as Shakespeare, Keats or some other poet once described as the mirrors of the soul. During dinner, G, with a Brindisi, saluted the beauty of her eyes, and we all drank an amount of wine that was more than the traditional sip. Suddenly, as G usually does when in deep thought, he stared…
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How Benjamin Franklin’s Sex Life Saved the American Revolution- and His Letter to a Very Horny Friend
Historians almost invariably miss little or not highly visible events that have huge historic impacts. Surely, Julius Caesar’s big, long term amorous and dramatic political relationship with Cleopatra changed history but so did Benjamin Franklin’s sex life. He was probably the horniest major political figure in American history. Thomas Jefferson noted that when in a room with lots of ladies, it took all of Franklin’s will power to control himself. He was undoubtedly a ladies’ man. He adored women, and they adored him.
Because of his impressive intellectual and practical achievements, he was a very popular and highly respected man, particularly in Europe. He went to Great Britain trying unsuccessfully over a number of years to convince King George III that his policies in the American colonies were oppressive, and the Americans wouldn’t stand for it. But one other possible reason…
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The other day I read about a spurned woman whose boyfriend left her. She took out her revenge through the Internet proclaiming that, true or not true, he had a small penis which couldn’t satisfy her. She reminded me of the old saying, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!”
I remember in my days of youth that a guy with a small penis was an object of laughter to be pitied, but there was, however, a little room for respect of the “educated pecker or cock” where the guy somehow made up for this, pardon the pun, shortcoming. (If one used the word ‘penis’, he was considered a sissy). Regarding women, it was every man’s desire to copulate with a woman with a “tight cunt” who, most of the time, was a virgin. But that was before the era of contraceptives and finding such a vagina didn’t usually…
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In a recent post, I raised the possibility that the frenulum is the male G-spot. It’s located at the base of the penis where the back part of the glans or head meets the shaft. Then I remembered what G had to say about women when I interviewed him in the book, The Man Who Made Love to More Women than Casanova. G, who bedded with about 300 women, claims that there is no specific female G-spot. In the book, here’s what he had to say about it, the clitoris and the vagina:
“Regarding what stimulates the clitoris the most, I have no general formula for it can vary, even during the same sexual encounter.”
“Now let me state the obvious, for it’s important that I do so: the clitoris has a top, bottom and two sides, and each can have its own sensitivities at a…
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At the end of the last dinner with the two widows where the discussion dealt with G’s experience with the forehead and nape of the neck of women, he promised them that he would talk about the nose and ears at the next dinner.
The ladies arrived, and, after cocktails, we all sat down to a very tasty lobster salad, celery root and breaded fried tomato dinner along with a sparkling Spanish white wine which G prefers over champagne with this menu because he believes the gustatory “hit” is far superior. That night no one quarreled with his judgment.
The widows, obviously curious as hell, mentioned that they spoke to a few of their widow friends and none had any sexual experience with their noses but all with their ears. They said they would tell G and me of their findings, but would wait to reveal them after they heard what G had to say. G smiled and began, “I hate to disappoint you ladies tonight but I’m not in the mood to cover both subjects for each is complicated and deserves discussion at separate sessions. But tonight let’s talk about the mysterious and fascinating and sexually largely unexplored female nose and hold off on the ears until the next dinner together.”
I playfully asked the widows whether G’s declaration ruined their evening. Our widow friend surprisingly lifted her glass of wine and made a toast. “We are more than happy to have received another invitation to dinner with two charming men.”
I then had an idea and made a suggestion that the lady friends with whom the widows discussed the nose-ear subject matter all join us for the next dinner to talk about sex and the ear. Surprisingly, both G and the widows thought it was a great idea. To tell the truth, after I made the suggestion, I did have second thoughts because of the unpredictability of what would happen with five women, three unknown, talking about ears and lady orgasms. But, what the hell: What is life without a little adventure?
G then began. “Now don’t get the wrong impression. I’m not claiming to be an expert on the noses of women and ways to make love to them, their noses, that is, in order to optimize their climaxes. Since our last dinner, I’ve searched my memory bank, which is not the best, regarding what I did and how many women I did it with. With the exception of two of them, their faces are fuzzy but overall I would estimate that I was successful with about six of them, but unsuccessful with a few more.
“But before I get into my experiences, I understand that men are much more into getting turned on by noses than women. Some call it nasophilia. Their hormones, for example, can surge either just by looking at a woman’s nose or her playing with her own nose while the man watches or when the woman actually makes love to the man’s nose by massaging and sucking it. At the suggestion of a lady friend, I did a brief nasophilia video search on YouTube and discovered that all the videos were about women showing off their protuberances which kind of confirms that it’s a big time man’s thing. But I’m not so sure.
“In the past Lorenzo and I spoke about the scents of nose and the fact that smell can turn on the hormones of both sexes. Few know that the nose can detect millions of scents. The Romans thought body odor or fetor soma as they called it, stimulated sexual fantasies. One of my favorite stories is when Napoleon, after winning a battle, sent a rider on a fast horse back to Paris with a confidential message to his wife Josephine. It read something like, ‘I’ll be home this weekend. Don’t bathe and forget the perfume!’
“Okay, let’s get to the subject matter: My sexual approach to the woman’s nose usually begins with holding the sides of the nostrils between my thumb and forefinger and slowly and rhythmically squeezing and massaging it. Depending on her response, then you go to fingering or tonguing her nostrils. I never sucked the nose. Don’t ask me why, but my instincts must have guided me though I am not against it. Now I could tell by the initial massage phase whether the woman would respond to further exploration. I would say most of them did not respond, but those who did really loved going all the way. I want to emphasize that, exciting as it is to certain women, it’s not in the superior class of muff diving.”
Our widow friend interrupted and asked, “Can you tell upfront who will respond and who will not? Did drugs play a role?”
“Regarding your second question, I don’t remember but wouldn’t be surprised if they did. Regarding your first question, I could not but I do have a theory. Because most of the women- maybe all of them- had not previously experienced nose love-making, they were uncomfortable as hell, and this understandably turned them off. Also, since our encounters were one night stands, I didn’t want to risk going forward and disrupting the sensual flow of things. If, however, I met them more than once and took my time, maybe many more would have loved it.
The widow’s friend chimed in, “Frankly speaking, G, I can’t imagine a man making love to my nose.”
He smiled and said, “Well, you phrase it like it’s an isolated act, which it is not. You must be doing other things such as making love to and/or whispering in her ears or biting on her nipples or squeezing her clitoris.
“Another thing: You don’t do it upfront but only when she’s excited and on her way to climax when her inhibitions are fewer and she’s more receptive to experimentation.”
With a big smile and devil in her eyes, the widow asked, “G, did any of your women ever make love to your nose?”
With a returning big smile, G replied, “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
You guessed it! Here we are again with our widow friend and her widow friend having cocktails and discussing sex. Out of the blue, the former asked G how, in his experience, women react to making love to their necks; and, also, how he does it. G then did what he sometimes does when excited about his subject matter. He plays the role of a professor ready to reveal a sacred truth to his innocent students and assumes a standing position to deliver his lecture.
“Ladies, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll tell you what I remember if only you tell me what you think about what I have to say if, of course, it’s not beyond common boundaries of acceptable conversation. Va bene?”
The ladies agreed with a silent nod.
Then, with serious, philosophical facial language and after raising his arm above his head with his finger pointing toward heaven, he proclaimed, “Ladies, it’s more than the neck but also the forehead. There is no difference between the nape or center of the back of the neck and the center of the forehead during love making. And in the way that I do it, in the majority of times it has little to do with making women come to climax. In all my years of learning about sex, incredible as it may seem, I‘ve never come across this subject. Maybe it has never ever been described. Lorenzo and I never discussed it in the book. Yes, we discussed choking the front of the neck which, along with mind-opening fantasy talk, is perhaps the greatest of all aphrodisiacs- at least in my experience. As I mentioned in past conversations, frequently I had to voluntarily shut it down out of pure fear of asphyxiation because the women didn’t signaled me to stop.”
G paused for a moment and made an observation about himself. “You know something? I’ve never explained the forehead-neck commonality to anyone before, not even to myself. I just did it by male instinct. Give me a moment to think about it.”
A brief moment of silence followed while the ladies sipped on their beloved Apple martinis and the men on their dry, dry gin ones.
“Okay. Let’s start off with the center of the forehead for the neck is much more of a challenge. In the center of the forehead and just over the nose is a slight crevice or indentation which has a tranquilizing sensitivity to the right type of touch. You place your finger or two on the crevice and begin searching for and guessing at the receptive area and then place soft, but firm pressure on it. It has to be firm. The fingers can be placed either on the tips or flat and parallel on the surface. They are effective either when they are motionless or moving very slowly back and forth. I found that the solitary forefinger placed firmly authoritatively and motionless on the right spot is the ladies’ favorite. It’s important to periodically alternate between the two in order to have a superior effect. It’s also important to periodically very firmly place the fleshy bottom of the palm over the crevice with the rest of the hand spread out and extended over and actually grasping the forehead and, in slow circular movements, to very, very slowly massage it. I usually do this at the end.
“Now onto the nape- not the rape- of the neck.” No one said a word, and it was obvious that G regretted his attempt at poetry.
It was obvious that the ladies had questions that they were bursting to ask , but I, Lorenzo, knowing G, silenced them with a glance for G works best uninterrupted when on a trip down memory lane.
He resumed. “In the middle of the nape of the neck, just at the bottom of the skull, is also a crevice or indentation and, like the forehead, has a tranquilizing sensitivity to touch. It, however, it’s logistically more difficult to locate and stimulate the right spot. As with the forehead, after I find the spot I, more or less, use the same movements. Unlike the forehead, the ladies like the feeling for a much briefer period of time. I can’t figure out why for though many times I tried to prolong those moments, it didn’t usually work. Because of the logistical difficulties and briefer moments of pleasure, I visited the neck much less frequently. But I want to emphasize that they both had the same impact when done properly.”
G, obviously very satisfied with himself, let out a broad smile and said, “That’s all ladies. Now I want to ask you some questions.”
No way was that going to happen. You could see that the ladies were bursting at their seams with questions. The widow exclaimed, “Wait a minute, G; not so fast for we have some important questions to ask first. You said these moves have little or nothing to do with sex. If so, why the heck do you make them?”
The widow’s friend then jumped in. “That’s right! And if they don’t come to climax, how do you know that they work?”
G then sat down, gazed at the ceiling and remained silent for about ten seconds wondering how to answer the questions. He lighted his pipe and asked me to refill his and the ladies’ drinks. The ladies love the smell of G’s pipe tobacco.
“Now don’t interrupt my thought until I’m finished for I’m searching my memory bank like a computer- do you think that one day computers will have orgasms? I only made these moves with the more mature and comfortable women. I would estimate about a hundred or more. Though not always, I usually did this after a woman’s first climax and then let her relax and enjoy the moment for herself. The secret of good sex is knowing when to be selfish and when to be giving. Ladies, as I’m sure you know, in sex you have to know when to give and when to take. And if it’s the right woman, here’s what happens almost every time: the woman, probably more relaxed than she many times has ever felt, goes into a brief twilight zone or actually falls asleep and, would you believe, oftentimes lightly snores which, for some reason, pleases me. But it’s critical that you hold her, without movement, and keep very, very still with body next to body sharing the warmth of body heat. My God, that’s something that everyman should experience before he hangs up his boots. It’s interesting to note that a man who undergoes such an experience would fall into an almost paralytic, twilight zone as if he were in an opium den forgetting about or incapable of pleasing the woman for the rest of the night. But ladies believe me: the woman, I can’t recall any who did not, revive within what I would estimate a quarter of an hour or so, with a highly energetic surge of what I can call their inherent mother instinct. They become totally selfless and pay attention to satisfying the man’s sexual pleasures. But here’s what’s puzzling: you would think that this would signal the end of the evening. Now the surprise: after the woman’s caring for the man, she is almost immediately ready for another climax with the same intensity as the previous one or ones. As I said before, the man is ready to rest but he cannot for the evening would end up with an unfilled woman, which is a sin against masculinity.
“Now can I ask you ladies my questions?”
“G, if you don’t mind, we have a few more. How do you know you’re in the right spot when in the crevices? Is it because it’s so tiny that you can’t miss it?”
G enthusiastically replied, “That’s the key issue, my love. Even though both zones are small…. How can I explain? Let me think for a second.” While he was thinking we were drinking waiting what could be a new sexual revelation.
“The more that I’m thinking about it, the more I can compare both of them to the clitoris. They have subzones. The small clitoris has a top, bottom, two sides and a highly innervated frenulum helping attach it to the vaginal wall. All can react differently depending how they are stimulated from the dildo to the tongue to the penis along, of course, with fantasy language and a little pain. You have to patiently search for it by feeling your way around, for example, by a moving your finger a fraction of an inch, which is almost always necessary. That’s how complicated sex can be. A fraction of an inch can make the difference between no orgasm, faking one or the best one of her life. Tough to believe, but that’s the way sex is.”
Once more G thought he had explained enough to satisfy the ladies’ curiosity, but once more he was mistaken. The widow’s friend, obviously frustrated, almost pleaded, “G, you haven’t told us how you know you arrived at the right spot!”
G belly laughed, paused and again asked for time to search his memory bank. He began, “Now we are entering my know-how zone which cannot be literarily explained, but I can give it a try for I have thought about this before. The search for the spot or zone begins in silence and then the man must rely on his instincts on how the woman responds. After beginning, many times the woman will say something like, ‘This feels good or nice’ which is the signal that you’ve found the zone. If she doesn’t say anything then I would ask her when I judged that I was in the right zone, ‘Does this bother you?’ and then wait for her response.”
The widow interjected and asked, “Why not just ask whether she likes it instead does it bother her?”
G answered, “That’s a good question, and I don’t have the exact answer except it’s due to reasons of the complicated female mind. In my opinion you can put a woman on guard and turn off her hormones when you directly ask her if she likes a sexual act for it strikes her an invasion of her privacy and a security threat instead of a liberating movement. Of course, there are exceptions, and I did used that type language in exceptionally high passion situations when a woman very much desires to take the next step in sexual exploration. When one uses the word ‘bother’ it relaxes and gives the woman the option of making a comfortable ‘yes’ or ‘no’ decision when deciding to give a man the go-ahead to proceed until he gets it right. Do I make myself clear?
“And now ladies it’s my turn to ask questions. What’s your experience with your napes and your foreheads?”
The widows, with broad smiles, exchanged glances and then our widow friend murmured, “Tonight is the not the night to discuss uninteresting history.”
As we were to tackle dinner, G said “I left out something important. It’s the position factor. When making love to the forehead it’s best that the woman is supine or on her back and you are lying next to her with bodies touching, of course. When loving the neck, however, it’s best to warmly hold the woman in your arms with her face nestled in on your chest which, in addition to it bodily and mental warmness, also makes her neck more easily accessible.
“Right now I can’t think of anything to add so let’s close down on this subject unless you have some last questions or comments.”
There was a brief pause and then the widow commented, “ What about making love to the ears. Is there an art to that?”
G leaned back on his chair and responded, “You bet.”
The widow’s friend then asked, “How about the nose?”
G quickly answered, “You bet.”
It didn’t take a genius to conclude that these two facial appendages would be the subject of their next dinner meeting.
It seems that the dinners among me, G and the widow are becoming a regular gathering. This evening G made one of his specialty pastas with gravy he found hard to master until recently: it’s a sweet- medium hot, light chunky tomato red meatless sauce. It’s a knockout!
During dinner the widow mentioned that she just saw Fifty Shades of Grey and asked whether we had also seen it, which we hadn’t and, to tell the truth, we’re not that anxious to see it. She remarked that 70 percent of the ticket buyers around the country are females, and it’s highly probable that a good percentage of the men were forcibly dragged there by the ladies. She observed that in three film reviews that she read- all written by women- what turned them on the most were not the physical domination scenes themselves, but the seduction ones where Mr. Grey displayed his masculine strength just by commanding the situation knowing he was in charge of directing everything. She then added that she agreed with the reviewers and, even at her age, that caused her to mentally surrender a little and heat her up a little. She then asked, “G, what do you think of that? What’s the difference between physical domination and seduction?”
Much to our surprise, G burst out into robust laughter. “How many times have I been asked that question! It always puzzles me that people don’t know that words or languages were not meant for definition purposes. What the hell is love, and what’s a horse’s ass? Try to define them! In the Casanova book, I address the differences, but there’s lots of overlap so you really can’t clearly separate the two. What is clear, however, is that both deal with control and surrender of one’s will to another in search for sexual satisfaction. But my experiences taught me that seduction is heavily mental and domination significantly more physical. Seduction is more prone to lead to deeper short and long term relationships than domination. Believe it or not, I had many discussions about this subject with my lady friends in the past while we were relaxing and just talking- which intervals I enjoyed and, to tell you the truth, miss a lot. Now that I’m searching my memory bank, there’s no doubt that my lady friends also felt that seduction, particularly when done on a superior level, could be a more permanent and threatening type of mental submission whereas they were more secure with domination for they felt that it was a short-lived sexual hit and non-psychologically threatening . There’s no doubt that there is a big difference between the two but, to repeat, words cannot adequately describe it.”
G paused, lighted his pipe, puffed away, sipped his wine and, as usual when in deep thought, stared at the ceiling. While still gazing, he observed, “This is what puzzles the shit out of me. There are tons of media outlets on dominatrix sex today usually with a woman portrayed in a black outfit with her breasts bulging from her brassiere and netted black socks along with black boots verbally commanding while physically punishing a man where he is also required to call her ‘mistress’. In otherwords, it’s mainly a man’s -and not woman’s- fantasy thing that’s on center media stage. Almost everybody now knows the word ‘dominatrix’ but what is the word for a man who dominates women? There is no commonly accepted word, yet that’s what the Shades book and movie are all about and why women are flocking to it hoping to turn on their fantasies and hoping to mentally take them to bed with their lovers and choose to imagine the appropriate ones at the right time to bring on and maximize their orgasms.”
The widow, obviously real curious, asked, “G, what did you ask the ladies to call you? Dominator? Did the ladies make up their own names?”
G’s facial expression suddenly turned to one of youthful curiosity like when one is trying to answer a profound philosophic question. “You know, my love, that’s a fascinating question for it can tell a lot about how women perceive a seduction-domination scene. Unlike a dominatrix, most of the times I didn’t demand that a woman addressing me by a specific name. My art was to, in a relaxed kind of way, persistently get her to imagine the fantasy scene that turns her on the most at the critical point of our love-making. Sure, particularly with the intelligent, attractive women who frequently found it difficult to let loose and after drinks and light doses of recreational substances, I would demand that they call me ‘master’ and, this is interesting to note, now that I think about it: there was almost always a pause before they could pronounce the word, but once they did it was a complete surrender and they would let loose on their thoughts and fantasies.”
We were about to dig into the pasta when the widow observed, “G, there’s no cheese for the pasta on the table. Do you have any?”
“Yes, I do.” And then he remained silent and still.
The widow knew it was up to her to break the silence by asking the logical question. Smiling, she asked, “Well, my friend, where the hell is it?”
Returning her smile with a bigger one, G remarked, “You remind me of Alexis Lichine. Do you remember him?”
“Of course I do. He was married to that beautiful actress, Arlene Dahl, and had a vineyard somewhere in France and, I believe, sold his wine here. G, how in the world did you connect that guy with me and the cheese? “
“Well, in those days Europeans rarely used ice cubes in their drinks or even refrigerated them including soda water. I remember when I first started going there in the sixties, I had to ask the bartenders to go to the kitchen, where there were big ice blocks, and chip away at them and put the chips in my martini. I was considered, in an affectionate way, an oddball American, and, frankly speaking, I enjoyed having that image. We had lots of laughs over this, which is tough to explain why.”
“G, I’m happy that you were happy, but, once more, what has that to do with the goddamn cheese?”
“Well, Lichine said that Americans, because of their love of cold drinks, were born with refrigerators in their mouths, and I say the same with cheese and pasta. Instead of initially tasting the pasta without cheese, they automatically pour the stuff over the pasta before the first taste masking the taste of a potentially knock-out sauce. Generally speaking, I first taste the sauce and pasta without the cheese and then make the decision whether or not to sprinkle it over the pasta. If the taste is good, I forego the cheese though I sometimes add it on at the end for an additional gustatory hit. If the sauce is not good, then, without hesitation, I sprinkle the cheese up front.”
G then stood up, walked to the kitchen counter and brought the cheese bowl to the table and, with playful, but challenging eyes, placed it directly in front of her as if it were a dare.
The wise widow, while returning his playful look with her playful one, which is one of the most pleasurable moments between a man and a woman, gently pushed the bowl aside and began to cautiously taste the cheese- less pasta. After our first forkfuls and wine gulps, the widow made a request. “G, I am not letting you off the hook. The next time I get together with my lady friends I know that the Shades movie will be on the agenda. I want to have ‘one up’ on them. Based on your experience, give me one example of one of your most effective domination scenes and one of your seduction ones.”
For some unfathomable reason, G remained silent and appeared agitated. Observing this, I, Lorenzo, asked, “G, what’s cooking?”
For whatever reason, he abruptly stood up and stared at both of us. “Frankly speaking, I’ve, in one way or another, addressed this question many times in the past and am in no mood to answer them tonight or anytime soon.”
Now looking at the widow, he added, “If you’re looking for some kind of sexual secret that’s exclusive with me, I’m sure it doesn’t exist and other men have discovered it and women loved it. But I will tell you about those six of my favorite words that I occasionally but carefully used which took me closest to a woman by opening up her mind than any other thing that I did. Many would call it ‘fantasy’ which is okay. I, however, prefer the word ‘reality’ which is a broader term of what sex is all about where fantasy is a subdivision of it. Am I getting too complicated?”
The widow, with a woman’s curiosity oozing from her body language, responded, “Not at all, G. Keep going.”
“Now I want to emphasize that this is not for everybody for they have to be spoken at the right time to the right woman, and she has to be absolutely convinced that you mean it and can do it. I, of course, only used these 6 words when we were on our way and the woman was sexually stimulated and mentally comfortable to where we were going. The words, when taken out on context, don’t seem like much but, believe me, they can be powerfully mind releasing. A few times the response was so emotionally heavy and explosive that I decided to back down, which was tough to do because the ladies passionately wanted to continue. And let me tell you I learned so much about women in those sessions. They were beautiful moments.”
G then leaned forward, softly cuddled the widow’s hand between both of his and teasingly asked, “Are you ready to hear them?”
“I’d like to explore your mind.”
Though G and I usually shun social gatherings- we prefer dinners with no more than eight around the table but six works best- there are a couple that happen about twice a year that we enjoy. Last week we went to the home of a successful business friend who invited about a dozen of his male friends for tasty snacks and unlimited drinks. We were all in his large kitchen when his girlfriend entered with some additional snacks and left. She wore tight leggings and had an impressive booty which all noticed and which led to an interesting conversation.
One of the middle aged bachelors began, “G, you talked about leggings in a previous post, but something about them just jumped to mind. It’s been awhile since the ladies have been wearing them, and there’s no doubt that millions of American males have been and continue to be turned on by them. I am! In the past it was a woman’s breast that was the much bigger turn-on and probably still is. There are reasons for this but one is that breasts were easier to see and butts were more hidden by women’s clothes. Leggings changed all of this and it’s almost the opposite.
“Now here’s what I’m thinking. It’s sodomy and tit fucking. The last time we met most, and maybe all of us, were not into sodomy. G said the same about his experience with his 300 ladies. We never talked about tit fucking. G, did they enjoy it?”
“Only a couple asked for it, but it’s definitely a man thing. I am not an authority on this subject, and things may have changed with the sexual revolution. It’s possible that leggings may have created a general horny pattern to try all kinds of new sex acts that were not common before the leggings invasion. Guys, are you tit fucking more?”
Without hesitation all did not. Historically, those who did it in the past did it mostly out of curiosity. Certainly some guys enjoyed it: and it was exclusively limited to women with big tits. What was interesting is that all believed the women enjoyed it not primarily for sexual reasons but out of play when they squeezed both breasts against the penis. All the women smiled.
The guy changed the subject to sodomy. “Since the butts in leggings are a big turn-on and after being exposed to them for so long now, it must be leading to more sodomy. Am I right?”
All the guys denied it as far as they were concerned. They love to look at the butts, tightly embrace a woman from the rear and firmly place their peckers in the warm crevice, but, shortly after, then go to the front. And all of their women prefer that. They have not encountered any woman who asked to be sodomized since the leggings revolution.
G, however, had previously thought about these possibilities and concluded that they must be happening because, with sexual barriers rapidly melting away, previously suppressed fantasies, and they are countless, are now exploding freely being expressed. He said, “Hey guys, we are all from the New City and surrounding areas and maybe men in other parts of our country are different than we are. He asked whether they thought that was good idea. All, do have such friends and enthusiastically agree for they were curious as hell.
Right after that decision, the girlfriend returned with dessert in hand. She bent over to warm up her special preparation, and I’m sure that all, particularly after our discussion, had suddenly become flexible and thought of the potential pleasures of sodomy.
A few weeks passed when our snack host sent the following email. “ I’ve received 17 emails with regard to what your men friends in different parts of the country, even kinky California, have to say about our conversation. All agreed with us with what we concluded.”
After G read it, he paused, lighted his pipe, gazed at the ceiling as he frequently does while in deep thought, and then said, “I don’t believe it.”