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WellMadeMale
2 days ago
Straight Male
0 miles · Kansas City
Forum
Constant Gardener
Quote by CharlotteRusse1
Oral, fingers etc are not problem, but how to make it happen more often while screwing?
Add/invite another two, three or four willing male participants perhaps? All women I've ever seen in such situations appear to experience multiples, frequently.
Constant Gardener
At first glance I'd have to say..."You got any cold beers to share with a stranger? We can talk about it over a case, if you do.
Got enough for Scooter and DM to join us?"
Got enough for Scooter and DM to join us?"
Constant Gardener
A young blonde girl wanting to earn some extra money for the summer, decided to hire herself out as a "handy woman" and started canvassing a nearby well-to-do neighborhood.
She went to the front door of the first house and asked the owner if he had any odd jobs for her to do.
"Well, I guess I could use somebody to paint the porch," he said. "How much will you charge me?"
Delighted, the girl quickly responded, "How about $150?"
The man agreed and told her that the paint and brushes and everything she would need were in the garage. The man's wife, hearing the conversation, said to her husband, "Does she realize that our porch goes ALL the way around the house?"
"That's a bit cynical, isn't it?" he responded.
The wife replied, "You're right. I guess I'm just starting to believe all those dumb blonde jokes."
A few hours later the blonde came to the door to collect her money.
"You're finished already??" the startled husband asked.
"Yes," the blonde replied, "and I even had paint left over so I gave it two coats."
Impressed, the man reached into his pocket for the $150 and handed it to her along with a $50 tip.
"Thank you," the blonde said, "And, by the way, it's not a Porch, it's a Lexus."
She went to the front door of the first house and asked the owner if he had any odd jobs for her to do.
"Well, I guess I could use somebody to paint the porch," he said. "How much will you charge me?"
Delighted, the girl quickly responded, "How about $150?"
The man agreed and told her that the paint and brushes and everything she would need were in the garage. The man's wife, hearing the conversation, said to her husband, "Does she realize that our porch goes ALL the way around the house?"
"That's a bit cynical, isn't it?" he responded.
The wife replied, "You're right. I guess I'm just starting to believe all those dumb blonde jokes."
A few hours later the blonde came to the door to collect her money.
"You're finished already??" the startled husband asked.
"Yes," the blonde replied, "and I even had paint left over so I gave it two coats."
Impressed, the man reached into his pocket for the $150 and handed it to her along with a $50 tip.
"Thank you," the blonde said, "And, by the way, it's not a Porch, it's a Lexus."
Constant Gardener
Bill Clinton or John F. Kennedy? You think you might know.
Ben Franklin saved the American Revolution by seducing French Women. A gay love affair between President James Buchanan and Senator William King aided the secession movement. Woodrow Wilson’s girlfriend dictated his letters to the German Kaiser. And lesbian relationships inspired Eleanor Roosevelt to become a revolutionary crusader for equal rights. The colorful sex lives of America’s most powerful leaders have influenced social movements, government policies, elections and even wars, yet they are so whitewashed by historians that people think Thomas Jefferson and Abe Lincoln were made of marble, not flesh and blood.
But the truth is about to come out. In One Nation Under Sex, free speech activist and notorious Hustler magazine publisher Larry Flynt teams up with Columbia University history professor David Eisenbach to peek behind the White House bedroom curtains and document how hidden passions have shaped public life. They unpack salacious rumors and outright scandals, showing how private affairs have driven pivotal decisions—often with horrific consequences. Along the way, they explore the origins of America’s fascination with sex scandals and explain how we can put aside out political moralism and begin focusing on the real problems that threaten our nation.
Back when Monica Lewinsky's semen stained blue dress was the fuel torching President Clinton's campfire, I had read that most of the rest of the free world laughed at the prudish and overly judgmental morality of Americans as we castigated our elected leaders for their lack of discretion.
This is mostly for all those of you who are not Americans...What do you think (and can you identify your country with your answer)? Do we Yankees seem to be way too interested in what goes on behind the closed doors of the White House and Congress?
Ben Franklin saved the American Revolution by seducing French Women. A gay love affair between President James Buchanan and Senator William King aided the secession movement. Woodrow Wilson’s girlfriend dictated his letters to the German Kaiser. And lesbian relationships inspired Eleanor Roosevelt to become a revolutionary crusader for equal rights. The colorful sex lives of America’s most powerful leaders have influenced social movements, government policies, elections and even wars, yet they are so whitewashed by historians that people think Thomas Jefferson and Abe Lincoln were made of marble, not flesh and blood.
But the truth is about to come out. In One Nation Under Sex, free speech activist and notorious Hustler magazine publisher Larry Flynt teams up with Columbia University history professor David Eisenbach to peek behind the White House bedroom curtains and document how hidden passions have shaped public life. They unpack salacious rumors and outright scandals, showing how private affairs have driven pivotal decisions—often with horrific consequences. Along the way, they explore the origins of America’s fascination with sex scandals and explain how we can put aside out political moralism and begin focusing on the real problems that threaten our nation.
Back when Monica Lewinsky's semen stained blue dress was the fuel torching President Clinton's campfire, I had read that most of the rest of the free world laughed at the prudish and overly judgmental morality of Americans as we castigated our elected leaders for their lack of discretion.
This is mostly for all those of you who are not Americans...What do you think (and can you identify your country with your answer)? Do we Yankees seem to be way too interested in what goes on behind the closed doors of the White House and Congress?
Constant Gardener
I've only briefly paid any attention to this latest Murdoch turmoil. I just never gave any of his organization's my time of day.
I wondered why any organization would hack any person's cell phone account (outside of a politician's account).
After I read about a few instances like this one, I was immediately sickened.
They hacked the account of a phone they provided to this woman, so they could delete any incoming calls - which might also then serve to prolong the abduction investigation or kidnapping negotiations? Am I understanding this...correctly?
What a horrible example of humanity these fcking cretins are.
I wondered why any organization would hack any person's cell phone account (outside of a politician's account).
After I read about a few instances like this one, I was immediately sickened.
They hacked the account of a phone they provided to this woman, so they could delete any incoming calls - which might also then serve to prolong the abduction investigation or kidnapping negotiations? Am I understanding this...correctly?
What a horrible example of humanity these fcking cretins are.
Constant Gardener
Everyone these days seems to have an online-dating story or a friend with online-dating stories. Pervasiveness has helped to chip away at the stigma; people no longer think of online dating as a last resort for desperadoes and creeps. The success story is a standard of the genre. But anyone who has spent a lot of time dating online, and not just dabbling, has his or her share of horror stories, too.
Some research has suggested that it is men, more than women, who yearn for marriage, but this may be merely a case of stated preference. Men want someone who will take care of them, make them look good, and have sex with them—not necessarily in that order. It may be that this is all that women really want, too, but they are better at disguising or obscuring it. They deal in calculus, while men, for the most part, traffic in simple sums.
A common observation, about both the Internet dating world and the world at large, is that there is an apparent surplus of available women, especially in their thirties and beyond, and a shortage of recommendable men. The explanation for this asymmetry, which isn’t exactly news, is that men can and usually do pursue younger women, and that often the men who are single are exactly the ones who prefer them. For women surveying a landscape of banished husbands or perpetual boys, the biological rationale offers little solace. Neither does the Internet.
Demonstrating the ability, and the inclination, to write well is a rough equivalent to showing up in a black Mercedes. And yet a sentiment I heard again and again, from women who instinctively prized nothing so much as a well-written profile, was that, as rare as it may be, “good writing is only a sign of good writing.” Graceful prose does not a gentleman make.
The fact that you can’t get away with lying in your profile for long doesn’t prevent a lot of people from doing it. They post old photographs of themselves, or photos of other people, or click on “athletic” rather than “could lose a few pounds,” or identify themselves as single when they are anything but. Sometimes the man says he’s straight but the profile reads gay. Sometimes he neglects to mention that he is a convicted felon. OK Cupid, in an analysis of its own data, has confirmed what I heard anecdotally: that men exaggerate their income (by twenty per cent) and their height (by two inches), perhaps intuiting that women pay closer attention to these data points than to any others. But women lie about these things, too. A date is an exercise in adjustment.
It is an axiom of Internet dating that everyone allegedly has a sense of humor, even if evidence of it is infrequently on display. You don’t have to prove that you love to curl up with the Sunday Times or take walks on the beach (a very crowded beach, to judge by daters’ profiles), but, if you say you are funny, then you should probably show it.
Demonstrating funniness can be fraught. Irony isn’t for everyone. But everyone isn’t for everyone, either.
Some research has suggested that it is men, more than women, who yearn for marriage, but this may be merely a case of stated preference. Men want someone who will take care of them, make them look good, and have sex with them—not necessarily in that order. It may be that this is all that women really want, too, but they are better at disguising or obscuring it. They deal in calculus, while men, for the most part, traffic in simple sums.
A common observation, about both the Internet dating world and the world at large, is that there is an apparent surplus of available women, especially in their thirties and beyond, and a shortage of recommendable men. The explanation for this asymmetry, which isn’t exactly news, is that men can and usually do pursue younger women, and that often the men who are single are exactly the ones who prefer them. For women surveying a landscape of banished husbands or perpetual boys, the biological rationale offers little solace. Neither does the Internet.
Demonstrating the ability, and the inclination, to write well is a rough equivalent to showing up in a black Mercedes. And yet a sentiment I heard again and again, from women who instinctively prized nothing so much as a well-written profile, was that, as rare as it may be, “good writing is only a sign of good writing.” Graceful prose does not a gentleman make.
The fact that you can’t get away with lying in your profile for long doesn’t prevent a lot of people from doing it. They post old photographs of themselves, or photos of other people, or click on “athletic” rather than “could lose a few pounds,” or identify themselves as single when they are anything but. Sometimes the man says he’s straight but the profile reads gay. Sometimes he neglects to mention that he is a convicted felon. OK Cupid, in an analysis of its own data, has confirmed what I heard anecdotally: that men exaggerate their income (by twenty per cent) and their height (by two inches), perhaps intuiting that women pay closer attention to these data points than to any others. But women lie about these things, too. A date is an exercise in adjustment.
It is an axiom of Internet dating that everyone allegedly has a sense of humor, even if evidence of it is infrequently on display. You don’t have to prove that you love to curl up with the Sunday Times or take walks on the beach (a very crowded beach, to judge by daters’ profiles), but, if you say you are funny, then you should probably show it.
Demonstrating funniness can be fraught. Irony isn’t for everyone. But everyone isn’t for everyone, either.
Constant Gardener
Oh, the irony of a n00b who is hiding behind a generic Lush avatar, posing this kind of question. Now that's...entertainment!
Constant Gardener
Quote by Buz
Is it okay for a guy post about a bad date here?
Cut loose, man.
Constant Gardener
I was seeing a woman who was proud of being considered a MILF/Cougar at the turn of the century. Sounds like a long time ago, huh?
She professed to me that she was exceptionally bi-curious, before she and I had even met in person. We had met on an online service Love@AOL (before it was blended in with Match.com in 2001).
On our fourth or fifth email exchange, she felt it necessary to request what my naughtiest fantasy was and then divulged hers to me.
On our third actual date, I squired her to a seedy strip club, located way out in the boonies. These 'clubs' began labeling themselves Gentleman's Clubs in the mid 1990s, but let's call a spade a spade here, shall we?
'What kind of a place are you taking me to?'
It did look like quite the dive/biker's bar from the outside. Gravel parking lot, custom built motorcycles lined up off to one side of the huge lot. An assortment of used to new automobiles ranging in obvious price from $500 weekly beaters to convertible BMWs, Mercedes' and Lincolns, were all gingerly parked next to one another. I double parked my SUV next to the owner's Corvette, squeezing into a slot that could hold a pair of Acura RL's, keeping the next nearest vehicle from my passenger side far enough away so that if the motorcycle fell over, it would only spatter gravel dust on my ride.
I knew that this club allowed wives and girlfriends and even parties of women to enter with no hassles. This was not always the case in the 1980s and 90s in many of the joints I frequented.
All of the booths were filled with boozy men looking for some female companionship and I selected a table for two, which was situated next to one of the low slung rectangular dance stages. This one was covered in scarred up linoleum and had a fingerprint smeared polished brass pole affixed to the ceiling.
"Let's see how bi curious you are, Debra...if you see a lady here you are attracted to...give her a tip from this pile of money." I placed a couple hundred in 5's and 10's on the table, between her and I and under the heavy glass ashtray.
A cute hostess recorded our drink orders and then delivered them to our table as 1990's top 40 dance tunes assaulted our ears and scantily clad young women paraded around the seating area and up on the two stages, one of them immediately in front of where we sat.
I noticed Debra making eye contact with several of the performing staff and tried to gauge the authenticity of the exchanged looks, glances and lingering leers.
Debra had chosen a black pleather mini-skirt with a button up white top, no bra and a pair of white thongs under her skirt. She wore a pair of black throw-me-down-and-fuck-me pumps upon her feet. For a 38 yr old mother of two, she was looking quite fetching and I also noticed several of the patrons eyeballing her long, tanned legs as well as her points jutting against the fabric of her top.
After a few cocktails, and a visit to our table from Guido (the owner of the bar and more than just an acquaintance of mine) Debra had loosened up considerably and her inhibitions no longer seemed to exist. Guido had complimented her earlier and mentioned that if she wanted to come back on Tuesday night, that's when the club held amateur competition night. I could see her wheels of lust and adventure, spinning up - behind her blue eyes when he mentioned that she owned an excellent ass and would surely be a big hit with the regulars.
Guido purchased a pair of drinks for us, shook my hand, leaned over and whispered, "Nice catch, Hollywood...and good timing, Michelle's not working tonight." I grinned, he smiled his gold toothed display and meandered off to schmooze other regulars in his den.
I turned back to ask Debra if she had found anyone she might be attracted to, and there on her lap was a petite blonde, about 15 years her junior...The young woman had Deb's blouse unbuttoned and her hands were cupping and squeezing those firm tits I had only discovered myself, just the previous evening. Debra's hands were caressing the firm ass cheeks of the nymph, seated upon her thighs and I just leaned back in my chair and adjusted my quickly growing hard on through my slacks.
Three lap dances later, I slid five ten-spots into waistband of the young woman's panties as she stood in front of my date, smiling and awaiting her tip. Debra was mesmerized and unaware of the tipping custom. Deb's eyes were glazed and her hips were twitching, seemingly involuntarily.
The young blonde smiled at me, thanked Debra, spun on her heels and sashayed down the crowded aisle - visually selecting her next willing victim. Deb's eyes were glued to her sexy little butt as I leaned across and whispered, "Wanna stay around or head elsewhere?"
"Leave? Fuck that, I'm just busting loose."
Four hours later, a trip to the in-club ATM and another $200 in drinks and multiple lap dances, invested...I escorted my bi-curious new lady friend out to my SUV and drove the 25 miles back to her residence.
Debra masturbated in the reclining front bucket seat, the entire trip 'home'.
She, ummm...opened my eyes to a few new positions and techniques later that morning...until sunrise.
She professed to me that she was exceptionally bi-curious, before she and I had even met in person. We had met on an online service Love@AOL (before it was blended in with Match.com in 2001).
On our fourth or fifth email exchange, she felt it necessary to request what my naughtiest fantasy was and then divulged hers to me.
On our third actual date, I squired her to a seedy strip club, located way out in the boonies. These 'clubs' began labeling themselves Gentleman's Clubs in the mid 1990s, but let's call a spade a spade here, shall we?
'What kind of a place are you taking me to?'
It did look like quite the dive/biker's bar from the outside. Gravel parking lot, custom built motorcycles lined up off to one side of the huge lot. An assortment of used to new automobiles ranging in obvious price from $500 weekly beaters to convertible BMWs, Mercedes' and Lincolns, were all gingerly parked next to one another. I double parked my SUV next to the owner's Corvette, squeezing into a slot that could hold a pair of Acura RL's, keeping the next nearest vehicle from my passenger side far enough away so that if the motorcycle fell over, it would only spatter gravel dust on my ride.
I knew that this club allowed wives and girlfriends and even parties of women to enter with no hassles. This was not always the case in the 1980s and 90s in many of the joints I frequented.
All of the booths were filled with boozy men looking for some female companionship and I selected a table for two, which was situated next to one of the low slung rectangular dance stages. This one was covered in scarred up linoleum and had a fingerprint smeared polished brass pole affixed to the ceiling.
"Let's see how bi curious you are, Debra...if you see a lady here you are attracted to...give her a tip from this pile of money." I placed a couple hundred in 5's and 10's on the table, between her and I and under the heavy glass ashtray.
A cute hostess recorded our drink orders and then delivered them to our table as 1990's top 40 dance tunes assaulted our ears and scantily clad young women paraded around the seating area and up on the two stages, one of them immediately in front of where we sat.
I noticed Debra making eye contact with several of the performing staff and tried to gauge the authenticity of the exchanged looks, glances and lingering leers.
Debra had chosen a black pleather mini-skirt with a button up white top, no bra and a pair of white thongs under her skirt. She wore a pair of black throw-me-down-and-fuck-me pumps upon her feet. For a 38 yr old mother of two, she was looking quite fetching and I also noticed several of the patrons eyeballing her long, tanned legs as well as her points jutting against the fabric of her top.
After a few cocktails, and a visit to our table from Guido (the owner of the bar and more than just an acquaintance of mine) Debra had loosened up considerably and her inhibitions no longer seemed to exist. Guido had complimented her earlier and mentioned that if she wanted to come back on Tuesday night, that's when the club held amateur competition night. I could see her wheels of lust and adventure, spinning up - behind her blue eyes when he mentioned that she owned an excellent ass and would surely be a big hit with the regulars.
Guido purchased a pair of drinks for us, shook my hand, leaned over and whispered, "Nice catch, Hollywood...and good timing, Michelle's not working tonight." I grinned, he smiled his gold toothed display and meandered off to schmooze other regulars in his den.
I turned back to ask Debra if she had found anyone she might be attracted to, and there on her lap was a petite blonde, about 15 years her junior...The young woman had Deb's blouse unbuttoned and her hands were cupping and squeezing those firm tits I had only discovered myself, just the previous evening. Debra's hands were caressing the firm ass cheeks of the nymph, seated upon her thighs and I just leaned back in my chair and adjusted my quickly growing hard on through my slacks.
Three lap dances later, I slid five ten-spots into waistband of the young woman's panties as she stood in front of my date, smiling and awaiting her tip. Debra was mesmerized and unaware of the tipping custom. Deb's eyes were glazed and her hips were twitching, seemingly involuntarily.
The young blonde smiled at me, thanked Debra, spun on her heels and sashayed down the crowded aisle - visually selecting her next willing victim. Deb's eyes were glued to her sexy little butt as I leaned across and whispered, "Wanna stay around or head elsewhere?"
"Leave? Fuck that, I'm just busting loose."
Four hours later, a trip to the in-club ATM and another $200 in drinks and multiple lap dances, invested...I escorted my bi-curious new lady friend out to my SUV and drove the 25 miles back to her residence.
Debra masturbated in the reclining front bucket seat, the entire trip 'home'.
She, ummm...opened my eyes to a few new positions and techniques later that morning...until sunrise.
Constant Gardener
Quote by KingOfLoveQuote by MsLaura
you're no fun
but I am right
Is it more important to be be anonymously 'right' for the win, or to anonymously share the fantasy or fantasies which the OP requested?
And exactly how are you 'right' with your reply, unless your significant other is actually reading this thread? If he or she is not 'here' reading your reply and knows who you really are, then you can share it with this group of anonymous online people and not actually share it with your partner/playmate...so then, you're not only not right, but wrong and yet you actually feel a need to be right to the point where you spout the babble you have typed.
KingofRight is probably more appropriate.
I usually charge $190/hour for this kind of diagnosis, but consider this a Sunday freebie.
Constant Gardener
Quote by NatiaNuff
My man thinks its gross for him to cum in my mouth. I like it... how can I get him to change his opinion on this? Any other guys feel this way?
Get a new boyfriend. I'm sure there's about 3.965 million dudes who would love to shoot ropes down your throat, between where you're at and where I'm at.
Tell him that. Show him the light of logic!
Constant Gardener
Quote by shawnababy
This is the "Ask the gals" thread and 2 dudes have responded. Hmmmmm.
It has probably escaped your keen attention over the last six months, but there is good bit of gender non-specific communications which occurs across the forum threads, particularly in the Ask the Girls and Ask the Guys threads.
It is not like Painter, I, Scooter or DM have committed any cardinal sins today.
Last week...yeah, we all probably screwed the pooch a few times. (that's a turn of the phrase, incidentally, and not an actual accusation)
Constant Gardener
Quote by thepainter
Really? Yet another hairy/shaven thread? You should learn to use the Search function before posting a topic that has been done to death already.
Surely you've noticed the recent Lush n00b trend lately, Painter. They've all got to hurry up and post the most original thoughts/questions/comments in their own new thread (and act as if this forum is the 1st one they've ever visited on the internets).
That noted, do you shave, wax or braid your scrotum hairs, dude? I quit shaving a year ago, Dancing_Doll noted in one of the other 300 pubic hair forum threads that shaving was too damned metro for her tastebuds.
So, I got me some Rogaine to apply daily and now...The beard that Bill Gibbons from ZZTop sports? Yeah baby.
Constant Gardener
Seems to me that you ladies would need a penis sticking through a hole in a wall, before this type of action could commence.
You'd never see mine, there.
Fuck a bunch of that whack noise. lmao
How damned desperate can either participant be?
You'd never see mine, there.
Fuck a bunch of that whack noise. lmao
How damned desperate can either participant be?
