Swinging the Bat

Sex is a sport for which both parties need to prepare. Bad sex, though exhilarating at times, is still bad sex.

With the confinement of safety gear these days, a necessary evil, it becomes even more stressful to engage successfully…and I am completely cognizant and tolerant of that fact. Fit together the usual pressures of sex with a woman who you long to hear your name on her lips, and the act becomes one big mess. But….

Unfortunately I can say loudly, that I have been around the block …just a coupla times…so I have met all sizes, those that kink - because as it grew brotha neva know seh him fi tuck it away in one line inna him draws and decide instead to twist the poor thing to lodge its 4 inches at rest to the left or right- those short but sometimes so very sweet; those 9 inches long and 2 inches across, thick, big, rigid and ready fi tek on any charge; and those in between. I think therefore I have been exposed also to the failure of the equipment to maintain its solid integrity. Erectile Dysfunction is not as uncommon as you think.

While I accept that there also might be a correlation between my high performance standards and poor blood circulation, I must implore all men to tell a bitch bout dem things deh before you make her hot and wet and there’s no action to follow di bag a mout…before she starts rehearsing in her head the “It happens sometimes, don’t worry” speech, or if you really like him, you fake it like its your third time with him and he has finally figured out how to fuck you just right and satisfied all your desires.

There is nothing worse than waiting a week to feel his dick so that the vibe will be more intense and arriving late but just in time for the clouds to open up a steady drizzle of rain, the perfect background for what you were feeling, and watching him, shirtless, pecs jumping, arms slowly pumping, abs bulging, run to organize entrance through the gate….stirring a wild emotion deep within the fibre of your being….that day when you watched the news to not give the appearance of eagerness, when you saw lust darken his eyes and he trapped you in an unanticipated kiss….a long, extended, wet di pussy kiss…..and you can’t wait to feel the total bliss as he instructs you to take off your dress while he watches your hard nipples burst forth from its lacy support…..not then.

Don’t wait until my body is over-stimulated by the anticipation and any touch from your hands as you stand like a lion above and lift my head from sucking your dick, readying me for a full onslaught of pleasurable pain, only to find moments of hardness, insufficient to support any constructive roll out of plans…..that’s not the time to share this horrible truth…….that’s just mean and wicked.

Get your shit sorted before yuh put 'argument' to a woman.

Viagra, Cialis, Enzyte, Levithra, Zion roots, Magnum, Front End Lifter, G-Force, all the other medication people clutter my junk mail box with are there for a purpose. Get that shit sorted out, or tell me before hand….I may make a few jokes, but it’s all in good fun and will in no way detract from my interest in you. In fact it’s the perfect thing for me to expose some of my skill and stand triumphantly in the end when I raise the dead through focused energy on making love to you.

Stop smoking, get your Diabetes or Hypertension under control…simple things, get your shit sorted…cause it pisses the hell out of me when a man cannot perform. I have no use for a limp-dicked man…too many things out deh fi sort dem thing deh out before yuh bring foolishness to me.