The Girl Next Whore (free sample book excerpt)

I’m offering this filthy, free excerpt from my humorous, erotic, autobiographical novel “The Wingman Chronicles.” Enjoy!

She was a sweet looking girl-next-door with an infectious smile and strawberry blonde hair. She was a fan of mine who’d seen my show in the city and was a year older than me but looked twenty-three.

Noelle had “liked” a few Facebook statuses in the past, but lately was liking more and more of the filthy jokes, creepin’ tips, blogs and videos I’d post. I was doing my usual show pimping and left her a comment asking if she was coming to the next gig. Within a few minutes she sent me a private message telling me she wouldn’t miss it. She also mentioned that she had read a blog post of mine called “The Mental Orgasm” and wanted to know if I really had the ability to do that to a girl. I had barely finished reading that message before another one popped up. She apologized if she had offended me, explaining that she was a bit tipsy.
I certainly wasn’t offended, and I signed on and we began to chat. Noelle told me in subsequent messages how she was on the rebound, damaged, and on the prowl. In other words, my kinda lady.
“If you’re not married, I’ll fuck you,” she said.
“Well I’m not married. When are we doing this?” I replied.
“Would you think it was weird if I called you Daddy?” Noelle asked.
“Of course not,” I replied. “How is that weird?”
It’s a shame what this world’s come to where guys have a problem being called Daddy by a broad their cock is inside.
We exchanged numbers, and she immediately began sending me naked pictures of herself—tits, twat, even face.
“I’m not a pussy,” she said. “But you’ll delete them, right?”
“Of course,” I replied. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”
Obviously I didn’t delete them. Deleting naked pictures a girl sends you is like being given a pan of baked ziti and throwing away the leftovers. I’m Italian and my family would consider that sacrilege.
Although she didn’t ask, I reciprocated by sending her a picture of my cock. I photograph well and I like to show off the work.
“Wow. You like to hurt your victims, don’t you?” she said.
“I just like to leave my mark,” I responded.
“I can’t wait for you to leave it on me.”
“You look great naked.”
“Thanks.”
“How tall are you?”
“5’4…Petite. Yourself?”
“5’9.”
“Very nice. Perfect size for me to get on my knees while you pull my hair and I gag on your cock.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She asked me to come over, but I was in bed and in need of a manscape, so I declined and told her we’d get together soon. I fell asleep wondering if once the alcohol wore off, would she have inhibitions, or would it make her yearn for me more.
I got my answer the next morning when I woke up to find a Facebook message from her.
“Ha ha ha hope you wake up with a huge hard on!! ;)”
I was thinking about that message on the drive home from the evening’s show in South Jersey, and as I started to get wood I sent her a text.
“Hey what’s up?” I wrote.
“Fuck me,” she replied.
Ah, what a nice girl. I’d manscaped earlier so I was ready to make a good impression. I headed to the Brooklyn dive bar that she’d been slopping around for the better part of the evening.
I had barely got out of the car before she jumped up on me, pushing me back against it and passionately mauling me like the love of her life had just returned from war. She grinded her pussy against my cock, reaching down and feeling my hard-on as if she wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost it in battle. I kissed her, looking into her wide eyes, which looked beautiful even if they were a little bloodshot. She was sloppy drunk, but still looked cute and innocent.
I kissed her and spun us around so that she was up against the car. Pulling her tits out of her teal blouse, I felt the lovely handfuls and sucked on them. They had the perkiness and firm nature of fake tits but were clearly real. I sucked on her nipple,
enjoying that first taste of tit, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some shady characters walking by.
Noelle lay back on the front of my Benz, sporting a sinister yet cute grin.
“Fuck me right here,” she said, as she ground her nails into my sides.
“Ahh, ahh … I would, but we might get shot. Let’s get you outta the ‘hood.”
She smiled and kissed me, feeling the back of my hair and putting her tongue in my ear.
I drove us the few blocks to her apartment as Noelle kissed my neck, rubbing my cock the entire time.
Noelle led me up into her abode, grabbing my ass while sticking her hands inside my tight jeans and boxer briefs.
“You want me lick your ass?” she asked.
“No … But we’ll find something for you to do,” I said.
Noelle responded by ripping my pants off and swallowing my cock like a fat guy trying to be inconspicuous as he devours a tray of free samples at the grocery store.
She had medium cock-sucking lips and they felt amazing as she undulated intensely, savoring all of my illustrious eight while cradling my balls and sucking on them as if they were cherry Jolly Ranchers. I pulled her hair and pushed her head down.
“Oh Daddy, your cock tastes so good,” she looked up and told me. “I’m choking
on it.”
She garbled some gibberish as she sucked me deeper and I jammed it down her throat. “That’s so sweet of you,” I said. “You fucking whore.”
Some girls don’t like being called degrading names, but given the fact that she was calling me “Daddy” and doing her best to “choke on my cock,” I knew she was different.
Noelle was amazing—from the feel of her mouth to her rhythmically varying positions, intense passion and impeccable attention to detail. When I finally came in her mouth she gave a thorough pornstar swallow, guzzling the massive load with enthusiasm. It was one of the most awe-inspiring blowjobs I’d ever received. “Oh my God that was great,” I said. “I’ll be ready to go again in a few minutes.”
We lay together on her bed, bullshitting, joking and flirting as anyone would on a first date.
“I usually get hard again quicker than this,” I said as we shared a cigarette. “I had a long day—did a show and drove five hours—but I’ll be ready to go again soon.”
“You wanna wait till another day?” she asked.
“No, no,” I said. “I just need a few minutes.”
She let out a sigh as she lay back and smiled, looking at me like it was prom night and I was about to take her virginity. “I really like you James,” she said. “You’re cool.”
“You’re cool, too, baby,” I said.
It was a genuine moment. Not the type of moment when you’re coming on a girl’s face, but something that could occur even if our genitals weren’t on display. Noelle kept grabbing at my flaccid dong, but I still wasn’t ready to go. I’m a guy who could go again and again, but she had sucked a lot out of me.
I fingered her. She felt so good—warm, gooey and sweet. I stuck my fingers in her mouth letting her slurp up her own secretions. Jealous of her enjoyment of the tasty treat I thought it was time I sampled it. I stuck my fingers back in her pussy and licked them. The sight of my enjoyment of her juice had already brought her near climax.
“Ohhh fuck me, Daddy!”’ Noelle moaned as her eyes crossed.
Instead I continued to tease her pussy, waiting for my cock to get back into battle position.
“I want it so bad! Ohh … Ohh,” Noelle persisted.
As she lay back and pushed my head down with her hands, I stuck my face between her legs. I liked the way she pulled my hair while I licked her clit. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to go down on a girl who had fucked me within minutes of meeting me, but damn, she had the best tasting cunt I ever ate. With some girls it was work to eat pussy—like eating a shitty meal at a relative’s house—but this was something I’d pay for again and again even if it was overpriced.
“Oh god, James … Oh … Fuck me Daddy, fuck me!” Noelle grabbed her tit and sucked her finger.
I subtly rubbed my cock on the bed, desperately trying to harden as I ate her warm cunt and squeezed her ass. I slapped her buttocks as I shot my tongue up inside her.
“I’m almost there,” I said, closing my eyes to conjure perverted thoughts and pressing my dong into the mattress.
I figured I could get her to where she was about to explode and then muster up some semblance of a hard-on inside her, and ride it out until she got off.
“I want that cock … Give me that big dick, baby. Give me that big dick,” Noelle insisted in her best phone sex operator voice.
I felt around, grabbing for my condom as my face remained buried in her crotch. I pulled up and got it open. Grabbing my cock for a few rubs, I pulled on the condom. My hard-on was back.
I pushed it inside her and began to thrust. The hardness immediately increased, taking me back toward maximum capacity. “Oh yeah, fucking so big, Daddy!” she yelled. Fucking so big.”
I sucked her tits as I thrust. “Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me!” she continued.
I was back at full gyration, squeezing her ass as I pushed my cock in and out of her stellar vagina.
“You like that, you whore?” I said. “Are you my fucking whore?”
“Yeah, Daddy, yeah,” she panted. “Fuck. Fuck!”
“Come on whore, come on you fucking whore!”
I pulled her hair and thrust harder.
“Oh god,” I said. “Your tight pussy feels so good you whore. You like it? You like my cock? Is it big, baby? Is it big?”
“It’s so fucking big, Daddy! Fuck me with your big cock, Daddy!”
“That’s right, you fucking whore! You’re my fucking little slut! Little goddamn trollop … You need to be punished, you bad little girl!”
“Punish me Daddy, punish me! I deserve it! I deserve it, Daddy!
I reared back, almost all the way out and then pushed back in, powerfully slamming her tight cunt repeatedly.
“Oh god,” she said. “Hurt me Daddy! Hurt me! Ohhh…Ohhh.”
“You like that,” I said. “You fucking whore! You like that!”
I slapped her ass hard.
“Oh Daddy, I’m so fucking bad!” she said. “I’m so fucking bad. Am I your whore … Am I your whore?”
She let out a squeal. If it had been any higher, only dogs could have heard it. “Oh yeah, you fucking whore!” I said.
I squeezed her ass tight as she dug her nails into my back, and continued her high-pitched moan.“Yeah yeah, yeah, yeah Daddy!”
She was coming so hard that she sounded on the verge of tears. I continued to thrust through it.
“Ohhh,” Noelle moaned. “Ohhh … Ohhh … Ohhh.”
“You coming, whore?” I said. “You coming for your Daddy?”
“I’m coming Daddy, I’m coming, I’m coming again.”
I kissed her intensely, nibbling her lower lip as I thrust. The squeals continued until her constricting pussy ultimately pushed my cock out, leaving me soft and tired. I didn’t get off, but she had three intense orgasms.
We lay next to each other, relishing the experience.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re Daddy’s little whore, aren’t you?
“Yes I am,” she sighed. “Ohhh you’re the best Daddy in the whole world.”
“And don’t you forget it.”

To see what else happens with Noelle “The Girl Next Whore” and other broads and uncouth adventures order “The Wingman Chronicles” right here in paperback or Ebook.

The Wingman Chronicles available on Amazon

In the UK, order it right here!

Halloween: A Time for Whoring

Halloween is a night when even the most conservative broads go out with plans to live out their prostitution fantasies.

How many innocent girls do you know – teachers, pharmacists, librarians – who transform themselves into lingerie clad playmates? Witches, devils, cops – the costume doesn’t matter, in their heads they’re a whore for Halloween. Even (supposedly) upstanding young women see it as a time of year where bad decisions are almost acceptable, in fact, expected. I brought on a Wingwoman for this piece to provide us a female perspective on this creepin’ holiday.

“Halloween has turned into an excuse for girls to dress and act like trash and get away with it,” said 27-year-old Tara. “Not that I’m completely against it, or a hypocrite. If you got it flaunt it, but if not please for the love of God be a ghost, throw on a sheet and get shitty!”

Pick a costume that will start a convo.

The first step toward getting laid is always initiating contact, so the role you’re playing should make the ladies inquire about your costume, compliment you and want to get a picture. I typically alternate ensembles throughout the night so I could have public displays of horniness with multiple girls at the same party.

“Girls like funny costumes definitely, but not cheesy,” Tara said. “Costumes that bring attention, but not in a bad way.”

Treat her like a coworker, not a stripper.

  As scantily clad vixens gyrate as if they’re working for tips, they obviously want you to eye their breasts, asses and legs. Don’t do it. It gives them control. Make solid eye contact as they stand before you in their stripper-wear, scouring the room for a greased up pole. You want to talk the same way you would if they were standing on the street sporting jeans, or a business suit.

“Look her in the eye, have a normal conversation and then subtly compliment her saying something like, ‘I like your costume, you play the part well, but with class’,” Tara said. “Even if she really doesn’t, it’s a sure way to get her in the sack.”

Make fun of others as a means of creepin’.

When nasty ass behemoths roam the range, busting open the strained seams of their safety-pin-fastened costumes, it could make for fantastic flirting fodder. I’ve often bonded with babes as we laughed at the sloppy spectacles in the room. It was like therapy. There have even been situations where a floozy in the most whorish attire and I connected as we spoke of how slutty someone else in the room was dressed.

“Make sure they don’t know each other first,” Tara warned. “You have to get a read on the girl. If she throws a dirty look, or initiates the name calling definitely go for it.”

Don’t ignore the girls who are dressed only moderately scandalous, or even conservative.

The high-class hos of the party are often the most naturally beautiful women in the room so they refuse to tarnish their reputation by competing against a gaggle of common trollops. Still, it’s a creepin’ holiday and alcohol is involved, so they’re still down to fuck. They just require better game.

My filthy novel The Wingman Chronicles available in E-book & paperback on Amazon.

The Wingman Chronicles on Amazon UK!

Win A Signed Copy of My Book With Your Slutty Halloween Costume!

Dirty girls from all over the world have been saying they want a signed copy of The Wingman Chronicles, and now you have a chance to win one! Ladies, it’s time for Halloween weekend — a time for whoring — so I’m going to run a costume contest.

Ladies only! Sorry guys, but do you really want to look at a dude in a Halloween costume?

Since you girls will be parading around in your scandalous Halloween attire and partying hard through the weekend of creepin’, and keeping it going strong through Halloween week, you have till Wednesday, October 31 to enter. All you have to do is email a picture of yourself in your hot & slutty Halloween costume to wingmanfans@gmail.com anytime through Halloween — Wednesday, October 31 midnight.

I will judge on three criteria… Sluttiness, the feeling it gives my cock, and most importantly fan feedback. I’m very busy (aka stupid when it comes to technology) so I don’t have time to setup a vote system etc. for this but I will tweet all of the pics and ask for fan feedback and incorporate that into my vote.

Since you’ll all be out partying, getting laid, and possibly passed out somewhere on Halloween night I’ll announce the winner Thursday, November 1st at 9 p.m. I’ll contact you for your address, and send your FREE signed copy right out to you!

NOTE:

If you have a separate costume that you wear when you take your kids out than you use while you’re out looking to fuck, go with the pic of the latter.

The key word isn’t tasteful.

I’m going to be tweeting and posting the pics on Facebook and Twitter, so look your best.

The winner will be on my twitter (www.twitter.com/wingmanbiz) & facebook pages (www.facebook.com/jamesholeva & facebook.com/letsgetcreepin) Thursday, November 1st at 9 p.m. eastern.

Good luck! Can’t wait to see your slutty Halloween costumes. I know you won’t let me down!

If you haven’t read “The Wingman Chronicles” check out a free sample on Amazon!

#SorryFeminists The Wingman is Back on Twitter!

Angry, desert-crotched, feminist cunts attempted to get me banned from Twitter, but I’m back, and ready to be filthier than ever. Why you ask? Because I care about my fans!

First off I’d like to thank all of my filthy fans who tweeted at me, as well as reaching out to me via Facebook comments, messages and emails since my twitter was suspended on Thursday afternoon. It meant so much to me to know that I’m not just a one night stand you throw out after I provide Earth-shattering multiple orgasms, but we’re in a serious and downright dirty relationship.

I’ve certainly never been committed to one woman the way I am to entertaining my fans all over the world.

I’m sorry I wasn’t around the past few days to keep you entertained, provide advice, and sexually harass my female fans—I know you love that—but although I’d been a bit ill I was taking the time to work simultaneously on two books… One, the much-anticipated sequel to “The Wingman Chronicles,” and the other a novel k that is something different but, nevertheless sick and hilarious. You will hear more about that other uncouth project soon.

Judging by the many messages and comments I’ve received, many of you wanted to know why I was suspended, or put in what some refer to as “Twitter Jail.” The answer is: The Feminists.

Often times I use a trending topic, a hashtag (#) phrase and tweet a succession of jokes, many of them raunchy and offensive, which seem to go over well with my legion of amazing, filthy, followers. Last Tuesday, October 9th, I tweeted a multitude of jokes using the trending #sorryfeminists hashtag, which prompted many feminists to tweet their outrage toward me. My fans, however, quickly jumped to the defense of me, my jokes, and my book and tweeted right back at the angry, desert-crotched, feminist cunts.

Well the feminist haters, who weren’t even followers of mine but were somehow stalking my @wingmanbiz twitter account (probably hoping I would bring irrigation to their desert crotches) took things a step further and contacted twitter requesting I be suspended for my offensive tweets. Twitter immediately suspended my account and took a look at the case the feminists plead only to come to the conclusion that I’d done nothing against twitter rules, and they must reinstate my @wingmanbiz account.

So I’m back, and ready for creepin’. If you really wanna get back at the feminist cunts who kept you from my tweets for five days, let’s make my book “The Wingman Chronicles” a bestseller, and get it picked up as a TV series!

Let’s keep me blowing up so I could tour to every one of your cities for X-rated standup shows, book signings, breast signings, and ass signings, too. No cocks please.

Thanks for the support! I certainly have the greatest, most supportive, and filthiest fans in the world!

Always your Wingman,

James Holeva

My filthy novel The Wingman Chronicles available in E-book & paperback on Amazon

In the UK get The Wingman Chronicles right here!

BALLS: THE KEY TO PUSSY

Innocent guys stand around the bar arms crossed and fidgety as they look on in utter awe at the tight asses and pert breasts of bootie shaking, whored-up, wannabe socialites.

The creeping impaired look on as vultures swarm these vixens, showering them in a sea of attention that they eat up like a bulimic stripper at a Chinese buffet with a puke bucket.

Knowing there’s no way they’ll ever exchange words with the club-light enhanced enchantresses, the wallflowers instead clamor to a glimmer of hope that they might graze a breast or an ass cheek when one swaggers by.

As the night comes to an end, the awkward and unconfident observers go home alone to pleasure themselves with thoughts of the unattainable sensually grinding to Flo Rida. Sometimes they’re so apprehensive that their sexual fantasies turn into porn films where they themselves aren’t even starring, but instead they conjure the image of the Affliction-clad toolboxes they saw cling to the ladies at the club.

This all could have been averted if they just made a fucking move. Girls love a guy with balls. That’s kind of hard to find these days so if you could at the very least fake like you have some, a girl who’s drunk and impressionable could buy it and you might be lucky enough to get her on her knees. The girls have done it before, why wouldn’t they do it again?

Introduce yourself, but then play it cool. Don’t cling to her like she’s your favorite jerkoff pillow. Make her wonder about you. Don’t fix your eyes on her tits, ass, or belly ring… Look her in the eye. The reason being that it’ll make her nervous, and therefore set you apart from the rest of the lecherous scavengers that have been questing after her.

Suddenly she’ll be wondering:

         “Why isn’t he looking at my boobs, why isn’t he looking at my ass, I’m dressed like a whore can’t he see that? Oh god, I look like shit. Excuse me while I go throw up.”

If you make a move and a broad thinks you’re an asshole and finds you annoying, she’ll still have more respect for you – the guy who takes a shot – than the pussy who stands in the corner all night with the dudes like he’s at a junior high dance. Remember, just because you are a pussy, doesn’t mean you’re getting pussy. It doesn’t matter that the broads have bisexual tendencies.

Groups of guys constantly spend their boy’s night out cockblocking themselves with worry.

      What do I say to her?

      What if she doesn’t like me?

      How do I ask her out?

      When do I kiss her?

      How do I make a move to go further?

      When do I stick my dick in her?

      Is it okay to come on her face?

      When’s the right time to stick it in her ass?

      How do I know if it’s okay to ask for a threesome?

      When is the right time to pee on her?

      Would she think it was weird if I asked her to fuck me in the ass with a strap-on?

 

There’s an endless stream of questions guys are constantly contemplating which simply get in the way of buying a girl a drink, ripping her clothes off, and fucking the shit out of her. It’s simply that easy. Just try to be safe, girls could be dirty.

 

      My humorous, erotic, autobiographical novel “The Wingman Chronicles” is now available on Amazon. Check out description, customer reviews and a free sample right here.

My filthy novel The Wingman Chronicles

Are you a Cockblocker?

Just about every group of girls has a cockblocker who does her best to keep the night from getting out of hand, or as I like to call it, becoming fun. No, you’re not protecting your friends, you’re making them hate you.

Obviously the guys trying to bang your buddies could do without you, but the reason your friends go out is not to hangout with you, catch up, chit-chat, support you through life’s foibles and milestones – nobody gives a fuck. The reason a girl gets dressed sexy, puts on uncomfortable heels or thigh high whore boots, and spends a night buying expensive drinks instead of sitting in bed drinking cheap boxed wine is to get fucked.

Who are you to stand in the way of that? A lot of your friends validate themselves by giving random guys bangs and blowjobs, and you’re looking to keep that from happening and take away a friend’s happiness? All I could say is how could you live with yourself?

But, granted a lot of you cockblockers are just cunts, however many of you possess self-delusion that keeps you from realizing how awful you are for everyone to be around. So I put together this guide that could help cockblockers figure out if they might be one so they could put a stop to it, or at least it could sink in for your friends that you’re stifling their adventure, and they should never talk to you again.

It’s very simple, you might be a cockblocker if…

 

You’re the least attractive girl in the group.

It doesn’t matter if you were the ace in the minors and are now relegated to bullpen status with the major league hotties, you’re still the one attracting the least amount of attention from guys.  Therefore, if guys are hitting on your friends and not you, you often defuse the situation so you’re not the only one without a dick to play with. You should either prove your worth by making out with girls in public, fucking guys in random places, and being more apt to degrade yourself, or go back to the minors where your troll-like looks will be more accepted.

You’re a prude.

Come on let’s face it, your friends go off at the end of the night with whoever looked decent, bought some shots and spun bullshit stories that made them drunkenly swoon and you called it an early night because you have respect for yourself and are saving it for a guy who means something. I know, I know, you’re not that kind of girl. Right, you’re a cunt instead. You really deserve to be dropped from your group of friends because you don’t exactly bring much to the table. In fact, your good girl act comes off kind of snobby. Not a turn-on.

You’re in a committed relationship, your friends are not.

You’ve been lucky enough to find that true love all ladies long for but you’re not gonna be that girl who drops her bitches. Yeah, well maybe they should drop you. Let me guess you party hard on the first couple cosmos and then 11 rolls around – “honey, you really should slow down. This place is dying down. I’m tired. You know how Ron gets if I’m out too late.” We get it, you have to go home and be miserable so why should your friends get to be dirty and happy?

You feel a need to protect your friends, or as I like to call it, ruin the party.

 Do you find yourself talking your friend out of things? “Do you really wanna do this with some random guy you just met, he’s only after one thing, he’ll like you more if you let him call you in the morning?” Maybe she doesn’t want to be liked more, maybe she’s drunk, horny and wants to have a rousing of round of rough sex with someone she’ll never see again. What’s wrong with that? We get it, nobody likes you and you want all of your friend’s attention for yourself.

You’re a new Mommy.

There are two types of mothers – moms who go out with the intention of being a whore on their day off — maybe they care about their kids, maybe they don’t, maybe they’re a good mother, maybe they’re awful, doesn’t matter at the bar — we like this type of Mommy. And then, there’s the Mom that goes out with her group of friends to brag how she has a baby and they don’t, and when a random dude is trying to makeout with your BFF you’re shoving baby pictures in her face. Your girlfriends do not care how cute your son who’s probably gonna turn out to be gay looked in his sailor outfit, they care about getting fucked. There’s a reason you no longer get as many texts to hangout, because you suck.

 

My humorous, erotic, autobiographical novel “The Wingman Chronicles” is now available on Amazon. Check out description, customer reviews and a free sample right here.

My filthy novel “The Wingman Chronicles.”

Are You A Good Girlfriend? Part Two

The Long-Term Courtship

Ladies, you constantly complain about the passion and fun of your relationship dwindling as it develops into the long-term ordeal you’ve dreamed of since you were a little girl.

“He’s not the guy I thought he was, it’s not as fun as it used to be, he’s addicted to porn and all our pillowcases are stiffer than his cock gets when I touch it.”

All common courtship issues.

Quite honestly, I really do care about you people to try to fix these problems because a good portion of my pussy is being the “other man” for women unhappy in their current situation, yet another way I do my best to help. How have I not been awarded for my service?

Anyway, in my last blog post you broads asked yourselves if you were giving off signals that you’d be a good girlfriend in the early stages of getting to know each other, and in this one, I want you to reflect on your behavior once you’re well into a relationship.

Do you still fuck?

When you first started out you probably fucked five times a day  – it was one grand, constant orgasm  – but now do you fuck five times a year? The sex inevitably slows down for a variety of reasons – on both the guy and girl’s parts – you become complacent. Did you get comfortable, get stressed, get fat? Girls will often put on a few pounds in their relationship due to feeling so comfortable with the love of their life, busy, or simply  fucking lazy. So, they’ll not initiate the beautiful act of boning as much as they used to, or worse, consistently turn him away. It’s not about who started it, it’s about fixing the problem. Rape him every chance you get.

Is the fucking formulaic?

Do you still bang regularly, but too regularly? Is it Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 10, missionary style and then you finish off by pushing yourself on top?  What makes relationships sour, in every aspect, is routine. I get it. You have your job schedules, kid schedules, workout schedules, but do you really have to have a fuck schedule? Sex should be spontaneous in all aspects – times, places, and ways it’s done.

Do you suck his dick?

The most common thing I’ve seen in a relationship is blowjobs becoming a thing of the past. When it first started out you gave him one at night and one with his morning coffee but now he’s lucky if he gets a hummer for his birthday. Think of the advantages to fellatio – the ultimate power it gives you over him. The more blowjobs he’s getting the more he’s going to go out of his way for you in the bedroom – initiating sex, fulfilling foreplay, returning the favor – and out of the bedroom – buying you gifts, romantic gestures, his general demeanor. Show me a happy man and I’ll show you man who just got his dick sucked.

Do you have a ZZ Top concert between your legs?

The longer a girl is in a relationship, the more hair on her pussy. Get rid of that shit, for real. A girl’s definition of shaving her pussy seems to change once she’s in a relationship. You’ll say oh honey, I shaved and then still have half a Jew fro down there. Gross. Shaving means waxing. I like a bald pussy or a sexy landing strip, if I wanted a seventies porno bush I’d watch “Deep Throat” again. Every girl should have a professional do the job, Brazilian style. If you’re apprehensive read this article about the joys of a good poon wax by Calen “Kat” Spindler.

Do you talk down to him?

Come on, be serious. Really evaluate how to speak to him. Are there times you yell at him and tell him what to do? Worse, do you make fun of him, point out shortcomings and all around disrespect him in front of friends?

Do you take it up the ass?

Come on, don’t be such a bitch about the ass. It’s fun, it’s dirty, and if you think you don’t like it, that’s in your head. Every girl who hasn’t done the ass or has rarely done the ass will fight me on this one, but trust me, the ass has become a very popular option with the upstanding young ladies. See for yourself.

 

If you dig my blog check out my humorous, erotic, autobiographical novel “The Wingman Chronicles.”

My filthy novel The Wingman Chronicles available in E-book & paperback on Amazon

The Wingman Chronicles on Amazon UK!

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