THE MENTAL ORGASM

We laid together in our underwear, our crotches resting against each other, as we lightly kissed and enjoyed the moment.

“Oh, oh, oh… I just came!” she exclaimed.

“Really?” I asked. “I barely touched you.”

“Yep… I’ve gotta clean up,” she proclaimed as she broke for the bathroom.

“Seriously, I barely touched you. How did that happen?” I reiterated.

“I guess you have a gift,” she said.

This made me wonder how I’d made this girl cum when I barely even gyrated against her. You hear about guys who pop double doses of Viagra and Cialis and still fail at getting a woman off, and I had barely touched this broad.

To say I felt accomplished would be an understatement. It was at that moment I realized that although I lacked vocal and instrumental talents, I was a rock star. As I thought more about it, I figured out a woman’s orgasm isn’t physical, it’s mental.

The girl had been so lost in that connection, the romance of the moment, what I was saying and how I was saying it that her sex juices couldn’t help but come pouring out as if somebody pulled the fire alarm and a multitude of sprinklers erupted.

She wanted to have sex, and we had had sex, but she wanted to wait a few days to do it again to concentrate on us really getting to know each other. I can’t say I was thrilled by these revelations, but I really liked this girl. Apparently, she really liked me too. The pussy doesn’t lie.

Girls are always complaining about sex: “He doesn’t get me off, he doesn’t care about my needs, I don’t like the way he prods my body.”

And the problem is that guys–both geniuses and Neanderthals–many of them don’t realize that a woman’s orgasm isn’t physical.

Foreplay doesn’t begin in the bedroom, backseat, or bathroom stall, It doesn’t start during your classy dinner at McDonald’s, Wendy’s, or Taco Bell. It ignites with the flirty banter when you’re texting, emailing, and talking on the phone.

When you’ve got this aura about you that the broad’s digging, then you tell her she’s beautiful and sexy, smart and cool, kind and sweet – you lie from the heart.

(Maybe you even find a girl where those things are true. That’s even more fun.)

If you’ve said the right things and made a connection in a text message, then did the same thing while you’re looking into her eyes… she’s ready to ruin her panties and make a stain on the floor. Let’s hope a custodian’s on duty.

These days I meet a lot of broads on the world wide creep engine–I mean Facebook… And if that’s the case I strive to have a girl get off to me a minimum of five times before we’ve even met.

However, I’m pretty hot and good with words so that kind of puts me at an advantage. Also, my sexy photos are real, If that’s not the case with you, she may be disappointed when you guys finally meet up in person. No offense.

Parking the car

When a girl’s gonna let you park the car in the garage whether you’re driving an Escalade or a Ford Pinto, you wanna be intense, passionate, and aggressive… But you don’t wanna rush things.

It’s like when a guy watches porno he just wants to see hardcore penetration… But a girl likes old school porn with a story. She wants you to be the pizza boy that sweeps her off her feet and peers into her soul… Then fucks her doggy style.

Creating a mood is very important to a lady.

I’ll liken it to masturbation. Guys when we jack off, we’ll rub it out – bing, bang, boom – towel off, pull up are pants, we’re ready to make business transactions.

But girls, they go all out… They dim the lights, draw a bath, have black market apparatus flown in from third world countries.

Women respect the ambiance, and you must too if you’re gonna please them.

Guys think about your wives, girlfriends, exes… Okay, I bet they spend more time in the bathroom getting ready to go to bed than you’d spend putting yourself together for a night on the town.

No they weren’t doing bodily things. Well, maybe they were. I don’t know what they had for dinner.

But what they were really doing is their pre-sleep preparation… Like guys, I know myself, I fall asleep anywhere… In my clothes, my contacts, my jacket… I just pass out. But a woman is primped for a ball before she climbs into bed.

It’s different if they’re a drunk or a drug addict, but we’re not all lucky enough to date Hollywood socialites.

So when a broad’s opening her legs, she wants you to take your time and enjoy the adventure… Not just jerk off inside her like her vagina’s a hole in the couch.

Whether it’s true or false, a girl just wants you to make her feel pretty, make her think she counts, and make know you care. Whether it’s a bathroom stall bang and bye, or a long term prison sentence, you connect with her mind, and you will ignite her vagina.

Obviously there are exceptions.

“I can’t cum”

Certain girls you’ll find will insist they can’t have an orgasm.

“I don’t like foreplay, I’ve never given a blowjob, I don’t like having lots of sex, I don’t like oral, don’t touch my boobs, my vagina doesn’t cum.”

If she says that, you know what that means? And this is based on highly researched and analyzed scientific data.

She’s a cunt.

She “can’t” have an orgasm because she believes she “can’t” have an orgasm. She’s a pessimistic bitch who can’t allow herself to enjoy what is there for her to enjoy; or she’s a control freak who won’t sacrifice any of her power for a few minutes of pleasure.

If that’s your girl, end it now. You deserve better. You deserve a dirty whore who likes to fuck and cums like a desperate house wife taking advantage of her teenage daughter’s boyfriend. (I know from my own teen years.)

Anyway, miss desert crotch is never going to be happy, and if you waste time caring about the drought, the lack of hydration’s just gonna ruin your summer.

If you think “I can’t cum,” you won’t cum. I believe in the sexual secret.

Women like that shouldn’t even be allowed out in public. Negativity breeds negativity. Before you know it all the fuck-ready sluts at the bar will suddenly put their vagina under lock and key.

And that would be catastrophic in this disgusting economy, where we need sex more than ever.

Ladies if you really want to help the economy, now’s the time to take off those clothes, open those legs, and whore it the fuck up.

 

If you enjoyed this piece you could read about me giving girls dirty mental orgasms in my filthy novel “The Wingman Chronicles” available on Amazon. Read a free sample, customer reviews and purchase right here.

My filthy novel The Wingman Chronicles

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The Wingman Chronicles on Amazon UK!

Parade Day Creepin’

   How do you feel about sexy girls who aren’t thinking of the morality of their decisions? Personally, I’m a fan.

   I wouldn’t exactly call them girlfriend material, but for meaningless random hookups what could be better? That’s why even more than Halloween; my favorite holiday of creepin’ has always been Scranton’s Saint Patrick’s Parade Day .

   It’s a marathon day full of drunken girls that just don’t care. It falls the Saturday before Saint Patty’s Day (so the die hards could head to New York City), and with my birthday being March 10th it always falls on or around the date.

   My entourage and I have always enjoyed a wicked game I created. This will apply to the Parade Day, wherever you’re located, even if it isn’t to celebrate Irish pride. Get yourself a stack of index cards, and give one to each friend. 

   Every girl you makeout with, you rate on a scale of negative-two to 10. For other acts – e.g., booby touching, breast sucking, finger banging, muff diving, hand jobs, blowjobs, traditional sex, anal sex, other sick shit you and your friends are into – figure out a system of additional points for each endeavor. When the day culminates – it begins when you start partying in the morning and ends when you finally go home – the one with the high score wins.

   If you actually have a group of “real friends” you should be able to utilize the honor system. However, if your friends are fake untrustworthy cocksuckers then require a witness. My boys and I are old school so we trust each other.

   Of course, for a certain goofy looking buddy with an altered ranking system, we would subtract three points from any girl he was able to initiate anything with.

   He was always good to have around though, because it wouldn’t even be a question of who was going to go for the ugly friend. He relished the opportunity.

   If you’re an ugly man with a complete lack of game, a Parade Day is your best chance for some pussy, or at least to slobber on a sweaty semi-acceptable drunken whore.

 

Game Day Strategy

 

  ­­- If you don’t live within walking distance of your parade, get yourself a hotel room in the vicinity. Girls are always looking to take a midday nap before heading back out for the evening, which presents an excellent opportunity for hooking up. Don’t be surprised if after they sleep it off they never talk to you again.

   – Keep groups small. If your game is proficient, break away from your larger group of friends and roll one-on-one. You end up wasting too much time trying to maneuver through a bar together. You wanna move like a gazelle not a Mack truck.   

   – Get the first makeout out of the way. It sparks momentum. I remember in the days of the bars opening at 7 a.m. on Scranton’s Parade Day (they don’t open till 9 now) I’d be enjoying my first public display of horniness between quarter after 7 and 7:30.

    – Compliment their ridiculous shirts that they spent a weekend making with the girls they’re trying to convince themselves are their real friends, and messing around is often inevitable. Remember these girls are extremely jealous of each other, so after you give one of the crew attention, if you give another a second look you might be able to be dirty with multiple girls in the same cunt clique… Maybe even cause a fight. Hmm… If kissing multiple broads in the same crew causes a fight it should lead to bonus points.

    – It’s a marathon, not a sprint. Always be more sober than the broad you’re trying to bang. You can’t operate at your maximum capacity if you’re slurring your words and grabbing at a girl’s breasts to hold you up. Save those ugly nights of blacking out and vomiting for lame times at a dive bar when you’re surrounded by dick.