The Big Eeeeeezy

Have you ever noticed how every man has his own verb for ejaculating? I've often pondered this personalization of such a sticky word (pun intended!) and have even been shocked (read: repulsed) by some of the selections I've heard. I think this is a list worth keeping throughout this experiment. Not that I plan on bringing many of the fifty-two to orgasm, but I find it to be a very amusing matter. Kind of like how guys have different preferences for how someone refers to their penis. I've heard men prefer "cock," but that sounds so porn star to me. (Come to think of it, that is probably why they like it so much.) So I am a proponent of "dick." It's still dirty, but not prostitute dirty. (No offense to those women out there who use "cock." More power to you!)

But back to the issue of the male orgasm. I had an ex who called it "nutting." Blech. Just the image that evokes makes every orifice close up in protest. I just imagine sticky peanut butter... everywhere. How unfuckingromantic can you get? You want to "nut" inside me? No, asshole. Take your protein elsewhere, please.

Four had his own spin during our half-asleep hand job session: "blowing." As in, and I quote, "Can I blow it in your mouth?" First of all, that just sounds painful. Second of all, let's not get carried away. You're not packing that much that you're capable of blowing anything anywhere. You and I both know that a more appropriate word would be "drizzle."

Four

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Sneak Peek: Four

"Let me know when you get home so that I know you got home safely," he said across the empty parking space between our two cars.

I've heard rumor of men who do this. I've also heard rumor of men who write their women love poems in latin and wear shiny armor on a regular basis.

But say it he did, and I was uncontrollably swept up in the chivalry.

And then halfway home, he texted me anyway:

"I had such a good time tonight. I don't know that I could have asked for anything better."

Tomorrow, we're meeting for lunch.

Excuse me, Officer. Can you tell me what I did wrong?

Follow me on this one:

The weather here is terrible, so Four got rescheduled for tomorrow when the weather looks clear, and Five is going to have to be pushed back to sometime next week, and Six is scheduled for Tuesday so if Five gets pushed back past Six then Six will become Five and Five will become Six, and I'm pretty sure a Seven will happen somewhere in the mix. I'm getting ahead of myself, I know.

I spoke with Four on the phone this evening, and he was very talkative, very personable, very... country. What did I expect when I'm an hour outside of the city and he is an hour outside of that? But there's something about his accent that is particularly sexy. Or maybe it's the fact that he's a soccer player. Or maybe it's the fact that he's a police officer.

I've been pulled over nine times for a variety of vehicle offenses. I've never gotten a single ticket. Here's hoping my streak of police being putty in my hands continues tomorrow night.

The Fourth Book

Have you noticed that I'm behind? Have you noticed that I owe you another book review by the end of tomorrow? Don't worry, I haven't forgotten. Instead of continuing with Rabbit Angstrom, I'm going to take a small break with a small collection of short stories. One so small that I could read it tomorrow morning and have it reviewed for you by the evening.

So here, my dears, is the fourth book:

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, that's all well and good, but you also owe us two date reviews by Monday. I haven't forgotten those either. Another Three has taken the place of Three-ish for Saturday night, and Four is scheduled for Tuesday. This plan will keep me behind schedule for another week, but hopefully once the holidays are over, I'll be able to double book one weekend to make up for lost time.