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The Forest
As we drove farther into the outskirts of Augsburg, looking out placidly across the top of cars, houses, and at the dogs running about, I got thinking, thinking how I felt being with Chris, about Chris. It was like I was cast into a spell, an enchantment, or perhaps a curse; very seldom did I ever feel like this. Normally I would feel like this only if I was in the presence of a great person, like my karate instructor in San Francisco, Gosei Yamauchi, or his father ‘The Cat’ Gogan, who was one of the few 10th degree black belts in the world. Normally I’d be high the whole next day. With Chris I felt the same way I knew tomorrow I’d be high all day, it was a natural high.
Once—I can’t remember when—I had read something about the poet Emily Dickinson, she was something like a recluse, but she made a poem indicating nature was her high, and I always remember that. How true this can be, grabbing the moment and cherishing it, absorbing it as if there was no tomorrow, and at the same time absorbing nature: the sounds and the heart beat mother earth, and sky; others humans, and the dogs and birds, all such things that at that moment surround you; they are all somewhat magical. I was learning, how to be a listener if anything and it entailed all things within your presence.
Chris was fully alive now, as I turned my head towards her delectation her steering wheel facing me, at which made the moment a little more interesting, as she felt good about me checking her out; a weary kind of sense, not defeat, just a good profile look; I thought dimly in my mind as she drove mile after mile: how could she afford to look so prim and proper all the time. Do her hair in a unique style, not a hair out of place, so it seemed. I guess in our own way we are all unique, I heard that someone say that someplace, not sure where.
An hour and a half had passed on by and she was still driving, and it was getting dark. She pulled into a wooded area; she said it was the outer rim of the Black Forest (otherwise known as the Eyebrow of the Woods), I think I heard of that forest in a fairytale book or at least that is where my mind said I got it from. An enchanting name, I must had said it my second self, that little person inside of all of us that we talk to: Black Forest, Black Forest…!
“So you see,” said Chris “…here we are!” She added her conclusive little smile to her face as she said that; as we entered the dark huge green forest, parking the car a little off to the side of a dirt road that lead into the deeper and more distant part of the forest, partly covered by trees and bushes now.
There was a chill in the air so I rolled up the window, as she turned on the radio for some music.
Very quickly and carefully she moved her thin reserved neck and shoulders into my area, she just starred at me, as if she was going to eat me up; as her left arm was lowered, it pulled out a bottle of Mosel-Saar-Ruwer wine, 1965 wine, -- I looked the bottle over 9.5% volume; I knew they had been making wine around this intriguing river and hilly area for close to 1700-years. It was good wine I had tasted it before, not sweat or dry, flowerily white wine to be exact.
“Now,” said Chris indignantly, but with the air of a certain point, “…let’s see what we can do with this battle.
We started to drink and laugh.
“Ah, yes,” I said to her, “you have a lovely profile.” She smiled and threw her head back.
“Well,” I thought out loud “… this is a good way to pass the night away, and begin romantic indecencies”-- she leaned over the center-divider of the bucket seats to kiss me. She opened her mouth, sunk her lips on mine, as she pulled her long legs to the under-part of the dash, she then started to unzip her zipper to her boots.
“This,” commented Chris “passes everything…I never did it in a car before.” She had drunk down 1/5 of the wine like a person drinking water.
“Chick,” said Chris, ”…come over here.”
I moved my body closer to hers. Everything seemed to be in the way. I could not back out of whatever was going to happen; and I knew what was in the makings.
She was starting to stretch her hands out: --her blouse went over her head, I just kept looking as she started to strip, I was growing, getting as hard as a pencil.
“Oh, damn Chick,” said Chris heartily as she touched my item. Just her saying that aroused me; then pulling off her bra, and her skirt up I seemed to become tranquilized somehow, my mind slipped to King Solomon, of all things, as he once defined the beauty of a woman’s body and how it was to measured for one’s pleasure by enjoying it fully, and this was all I wanted to do now—enjoy it, and I think Chris was feeling the same way for even though we were both a bit on the tipsy side we were fully aware of our responses, I had lost complete focus of the uncomfortable situation, as she did…
◊…now that she was almost completely stripped only her panties on, she curled up in a fetus position holding her legs and leaning back, then opened up her legs slowly… I thought what every on earth possessed her, yet who can predict women I told myself, and started to take off my cloths, quickly…getting out of this spill of sorts. I guess it is true, men like to observe, and women like to touch. I liked both. This was not dirty sex, this was pure sex, at its height, one might even say, it was like a painting; she painted the picture, she taught me how to enjoy what she had to offer.
“I’m going to get it all off in a minute,” I said, it was difficult working in this cramped space… she chuckled, “Slowly please, I can wait…”she softly said as she rested her head back and I caught my breath, that is what she wanted, that is, for me to calm down, yet remain hard and possessed with her offering: I think we both had multiorgasms
“I feel fine now –“ I said, adding, “cramped but fine…☺”
Chris opened up her arms I couldn’t back away after that, could I?
I told myself: I have a private room at the barracks…. Then said it out loud to her:
“Of course, -- next time…” said she, and we continued to make love for the third orgasm for me, for her, perhaps five or six.
We seemed to flop around the front seat finding the right position…’she‘s looking at me eeeeeeeee’, I told myself, I’m cramped, nothing to grab a hold of, her head leaning against the glass of the window. Without a word we continued: --my body heavy onto hers, my heart beating two-hundred ticks a minute, we both were hot, enmeshed in the moment, a lustful, and burning moment; I wanted to open the door, but feared the light going on and someone would see us, plus the air was cool, too cool. I had no escape we met each other’s eyes as I penetrated her. She looked again deep into my eyes as she tried to catch her breath, to make sure I was still alive I think. It was seemingly unfair for me to put her through this I thought, but the thought only lasted a half second, I found myself exploding … as my heart dropped to my feet, and again, and again, I exploded and burned as if I had opened myself up to a volcano; I had learned at that moment, the difference between happiness and pressure: happiness was listening to her talk before, and then came her smile, now the pleasure, sex; I hurt, this had never happened before.
“Nice evening, isn’t it?” I said as I started pulling her body closer to me.
“I hope you are not offended I am taking the lead?” said Chris.
“Not at all,” I said, adding, “I’ll catch up.”
“There are times,” said Chris, “when rules are made to be broken like now, them...mmm damn silly rules…” she pulled herself up a bit, “I stopped believing in those rules… this is one of those moments I want to remember…remember for a long time, even after I am dead.”
As we tried to untwist our bodies, we caught ourselves laughing at our odd situation. We had made love, and became a little more sensitive with each other…a little more possessive of each other, I guess that is the nature of things in a relationship, they are made to progress, or stop, one or the other, and it was never to take place again in the front seat of a Mustang I knew….
She laid her cheek against my hand.
“Chick.”
“Yes?”
“You realize don’t you, this can’t end here?”
“There’s no reason for it to end, is there?”
“No.”
She spoke some German words I didn’t understand, German mingled with English I should say: then somehow, she went silent…maybe she was taking time to remember the moment, digesting it; I didn’t know, nor did I want to try to guess, I just looked at her, her smile it seemed to promise something, grace; instinct was in it also, around her small enclosed eyes, as they opened and shut slowly they were weaving a web I do believe, “It won’t end here, I promise.”
Pleasant and agreeable-like a well-cultured woman she was, maybe too much for me, she opened the door, and dressed quickly, then got back in.
“Want a cigarette?” I asked, sitting up straight.
“No and neither do you. We are both restless it seems. Come over to me,” she started kissing me.
As she released her lips from mine, she sat upright now, pulled out a cigarette, lit it and started blowing smoke rings into the air.
“You know perfectly well, I’m very much attracted to you…yoouuuu… right?”
“I hope so, I feel the some way.”
“Luckily the wine deadens the bruises (discoloration).” I commented, she laughed and kind of stretched her back to put it back in place…”Me to,” she replied.
“I wish all relationships could start like ours, it is like saying let’s drop all the game playing and pretend we are on the fifth date, and cut the crap; I like you Chick, I like you very much…”
“The bruises will show up tomorrow,” I told Chris.
Kind of saying maybe we should go, but neither one of us seemed to be all that bothered with that so we simply started kissing again after her cigarette brake…it was a long and needed pause for me, for a second breathe, a refractory period I needed [from uninterrupted sex]; that is, having multiple orgasms drains a man. I’ve learned also, women don’t need this rest period; so in time I’d learn how to last longer, and perhaps stretch the orgasms thinner but again, longer (three hours at the most; and I did).
I thought in my head, she was having sex with me, and then that rich boyfriend she had; she was getting her multiorgasmic pleasures indeed, perhaps a secret to some women, for once they discover this, it is hard for any man to keep up with them, lest he be a superman of sorts. I did not even at that young age have the capacity to pass six organisms; five was my limit I learned. I was limp now; my penis had been as pointed as a scorpions tail a while ago.
As scary as it started out for me I thought my reactions afterwards was cool, I seemed to be letting things take their natural course. It was a dark and colorless evening. Grossly romanticized in such an unimpressive way (so I thought in the back of my mind), yet Miss Chris was perfect.
I thought to myself: maybe she might be annoyed with my lovemaking… I guess every man wants to please the woman, wife, girlfriend, the one he is making love to, or should want to please her, but most don’t; how can they, they pop too quickly. This is a fact, I’ve talked to men, and when they say they go so quick, no woman could get it on in that time period. A woman taught me how to hold myself from climaxing too early, thus allowing the woman to catch up—and therefore, allowing my female mate to get it on and enjoy. I know this evening went a little fast, but Chris was modest about it, like that other woman who had taught me, helped me, to help her, so we both could enjoy each other more; as my slowing down kept my penis hard longer, allowing her pleasure zone to become wider. This was something of the case in hand, but not completely.
Most men think they make love better drinking, but it’s far from the truth. Most men do not know how to make love, no one taught them, so all they do is f*ck, and that is not love, that is, if anything, a quick climax, like eating a big fat burger, and wiping your mouth in its enjoyment and then leaving the café only to find out: you got indigestion, and had you went to a nicer restaurant, ate slower, you’d never forget the meal.
I have experimented with that theory, and it is nine-minutes verse four-hours, I say four hours, but I knew in my head it was only one time I lasted four hours, two and a half was the norm.
I was thinking now—as Chris kissed me—how I owe some women a bit of gratitude for allowing me to have my pleasure and not returning it to them; that’s the caretaker in a woman I think. But women just don’t know men can learn. And men are too bull-headed to let women teach them what pleases them. I had learned a good lover was worth his weight in gold and even maybe a little more: sometimes they can be irresistible.
One could hardly tell her it wasn’t hastily done, our sex (to me it was) for it was, but she seemed to understand the circumstances, and we need not prove anything today, only allow our bodies to be sanctioned to the other. So I think we both felt. Lovemaking would improve as time went on.
“I’m afraid my lover, we will have to find better accommodations next time,” Chris said, smiling at me.
“Yes,” I hesitated, “absently,” I hesitated-- “I feel the same way.”
“It’s a little hard in such a cramped car luckily we are both a little tipsy….”
“I’m afraid I’m not, somehow I sobered up when you took your blouse off.” She smiled, with a grin.
“Yes. I sense you have, do you really like me Chick?”
“You are growing on me. And what is there not to like?”
She was like a schoolgirl at times, needing to be encouraged, to grow up, and needed to be admired. But she didn’t need permission to live, she was taking that—but I’m learning to appreciate women more, I told myself, and it seems the more I show appreciation, the more they respect me, and to be quite frank with myself, I need respect. And why not … the world will give it, if you demand it, and if not, let that part of the world go; so my second self, my mind’s eye, told me.
But then as I looked at her, if she really felt she was on death row, with cancer, maybe I was just a remedy for a while, and if so, so what, maybe I needed a remedy to make it through my time here in Germany; so seemed just to me.
8
The Spider and
The Web
A warm-wind had picked up it seemed, and April and May in Germany was a paradise of light-cool sunrays, it was a spring never to forget, Chris and I were growing on one another, like white on rice. More community drinking fairs were picking up and Chris and I tried to make a few, drink it up and eat and just go with the flow; it was a good time for living.
Chris and I were known throughout the guardhouse-barracks as lovers and a heat wave at that. She seemed to have a charm with my soldier friends, and often drove her German boyfriend’s Mercedes car to the gate, and about, showing off kind of, not only to me, but it seemed at times going out of her way to show it to the other guards. Most of my friends thought she had two cars, I simply did not up date them, if they were not in my way of thinking or inner circle—why squander my time; and in most cases they didn’t have a need to know; but Ski and a few other of my friends knew the truth. I felt: plus, I felt: why not let Chris make an impression at the guard shacks, if it helps her ego so be it. I do not think I was envious, rather amused. I’m sure somewhere along the line I’d have to deal with envy, but who at my age is envious, for what, I have a lifetime to catch up.
She flirted with the guards, and they all thought it cool. At night, if I had to work, she would bring me by a sandwich while on duty; in one way she got the guys a little jealous, or in lack of a better word, annoyed. And sometimes she would simply walk into barracks, which had about fifteen-guards some running around half naked from the shower room to their room, while others went visiting. She’d come knocking on my door. She’d spend the night with me, it was an improvement from the car, and for some reason we only went over to her house once in the following two months. I knew we were not fooling anyone at the guard-barracks, but we pretended to be secret about it anyway.
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The following is from the beginning of a short story by the same title. Read “Author Bio” to learn more.
****
I was recently doing a search in Google to find a website that would confirm my suspicions about a Tele-huckster—a pet peeve of mine to which I am hopelessly addicted. One thing led to another and, yada yada yada, before I knew it, my flat screen monitor began flashing a string of sexually explicit pictures in brilliant pulsating color. It was an X-rated pop-up extravaganza; one I was unable to keep up with. I clicked frantically trying to close one close-up invasion after another. The bombardment continued on until it ran its course, eventually reaching some kind of worldwide web adult abyss that even the internet could not crawl below.
As I cleaned up the dirty debris I so innocently spilled—well maybe not that innocently—I was struck by my good fortune. Thankfully, the internet came along decades after my early teen years. Had this stuff been around in the Sixties, I might still be squirreled away in my attic room to this day, trimming the hair on my palms while mumbling incoherently to my seeing-eye dog.
On the other hand, learning the whereabouts, general appearance and overall purpose of female parts would have been a heck of a lot easier, not to mention more timely. Instead, my sex education was really the collective result of a hit or miss operation. At the time it was torture, but I don’t know, there was something funny about it too. And it all started at my local summer recreation center, Carteret Park ...
****
“What did Roy Rogers say to Dale Evans in the bedroom when the lights went out?” Mud Finnegan asked a rapt group of adolescent boys sitting around a long wooden table at our local summer hangout, Carteret Park. He was about twelve years old, a year older than I and several years older than most of the kids sitting on the benches—that was age-wise but he seemed a generation older than all us in every other way.
Mud looked around, working the table like a seasoned Catskill comedian. No one dared answered his question because it really wasn’t a question at all. It was an obvious lead-in to the punch line of another classic dirty joke; besides, no one had a clue as to the possible answer—no one that is except Moon Muller.
“I know!” Moon yelped in a lame attempt to impress the guys, as if he was really in the know.
“Shut up! You don’t know crap!” Fitzy snapped back, warning that one of his patented headlocks might be coming Moon’s way if he didn’t keep his big trap shut.
“Do too!” Moon fired back in a surprising show of bravado.
“Are you two f’in jerk-offs through?” Mud, as only Mud could do, used the “F” word with a certain artistic flair. He painted masterpieces with four letter words no differently than Monet did with colors from a pallet. Having regained the attention of his fickle audience, he continued to close the deal.
“Do you f'in dick heads wanna hear the f’in joke or doncha?” His eyes got wide and kind of crazy looking, one eyebrow climbing higher than the other. Of course, we wanted to hear. Everyone settled down. He waited a moment, knowing timing was everything; then, delivered the goods.
“I’ll turn on my flashlight if you turn on your headlights.”
A flash of universal vacant thought swept across the sea of open jawed faces, like the eerie stillness before a tornado strikes, as our feeble brains scrambled to “get it”. Then, as if prompted by an audience monitor, an explosion of rip-roaring, doubled-over laughter swept around the table. Ah … Mud sure could bring it home. Making it all the more incredulous was that most of us struggled to understand the punch-line. But we knew enough to laugh because that always bought us time to figure it out.
Mud proudly acknowledged his success with a wide grin, while he waited for us to wipe the tears from our eyes, boogers from our noses and drool from our chins. He was on top of his game. Being the veteran performer he was, he launched into an encore with another doozey about some lost traveler asking some guy who is with a woman how far is “The Old Log Inn”; you can guess the answer. Another eruption of roaring, clueless laughter followed. Another tidbit of carnal information revealed.
That was my introductory class to sex education in the Sixties. We weren’t taught concepts like “private parts”, and never heard of or cared much for formal words like “penis” or “breast” or “vagina”. Our language was narrow and practical; “logs” or “rods” and “headlights” or “cams” were all we knew or needed know to communicate with each other. Regarding “vagina”, only a few guys with older sisters had even the slightest notion of what that might be; most of us were under the delusion that girls had simply broken their logs off at birth; possibly by accident or through carelessness.
So all we had were Mud’s dirty jokes, and embellished stories of older sisters spied on or caught in some state of undress. It was all a forewarning of things to come. I mean we understood the direct symbolism of certain words to body parts and innately found the sophomoric humor in using such imagery in the context of a joke. But underneath it all we started to sense that there was more to this than met the eye, something sinister.
As we’d soon come to discover, there sure was!
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This article is designed to help those who've never changed a disposable diaper before, or think they're doing something wrong.
Step 1. Gather all necessary items before starting. You'll need: clean diaper, baby wipes, baby powder, cream for rashes, and a disposable bag.
Step 2. Wash your hands.
Step 3. Cover changing area with cloth or waterproof blanket.
Step 4. Place baby on changing table and secure him, or on designated area. Do not place on counter he can roll off of.
Step 5. Fully remove child's pants or anything that may get in the way of diaper changing process.
Step 6. Unfold clean diaper, sliding tabbed portion underneath the child. The front of the diaper, generally with little pictures on the top, should be face down.
Step 7. Open tabs on dirty diaper and fold down. Do not remove yet. If child is a boy, cover penis with baby wipe or cloth to avoid spraying.
Step 8. Hold baby's legs up with one hand. Wipe the baby's bottom clean. If it's a girl, make sure you always wipe front to back. If it's a boy, be sure to clean all around the scrotum. Put used wipes in the dirty diaper, use as many as you need until wipe comes away clean.
Step 9. Pull soiled diaper out, fold and secure tabs. Put it in the disposable bag.
Step 10. Apply powder to bottom. If there is a rash, let it air dry or pat dry with a cloth before applying cream. Do not put powder on rash.
Step 11. Fold front of clean diaper up and secure tabs. Diaper should be snug without pinching. Make sure side ruffles are out, not in, to prevent leakage down the legs. If this is a newborn baby with umbilical cord, fold the diaper down to just below cord.
Congratulations! You have changed a diaper.
One last helpful tip. Have you experienced the "magic pee" with your baby boy, where the diaper is dry, but his clothes are wet?
Here's the thing you need to watch for: Make sure the boy's penis is pointing down when putting on diaper. This is something I wish I knew when I first started changing diapers. If he is pointing up or to the side, his pee will shoot right out of the diaper. Remembering this will prevent many clothes and bedding changes.
Good luck with the new addition to your family.
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An age old problem for men has been the problem of a small penis size. For years, men have looked to science to provide them with an answer, usually leading to painful surgery. The process of surgery is now a thing of the past though with the help of modern scientific advances in natural penis enlargement.
While the focus used to be on working from the outside in to gain size, now its just the opposite. Natural penis enlargement techniques help men gain real inches by developing the penis from the inside out.
These advances though have seen the development of special exercises and now the traction devices. Traction devices and exercises have enabled men to gain a bigger penis size in a matter of just a few weeks. Through continued use over the course of a few months, men can gain even bigger size, in both length and girth.
As penis enlargement moves closer into the mainstream, people are already using its techniques and talking to others in male enhancement forums. Men want to improve themselves now more than ever and natural penis enlargement gives them the tools to reach their potential.
How natural penis enlargement works
The way the two main methods of natural penis enlargement work is by stretching the penis. In general, your current penis size is limited. For it to grow, the penis needs stimulation for its inner smooth muscles to expand, and allow more blood to flow in.
Once blood flow is increased, stretching techniques are used to push the rich supply of nutrients in the blood to new areas of the penis. This has the effect of helping to grow bulky new tissue cells. This in turn gives the penis more volume, size and strength.
What to expect from natural penis enlargement
Right now, the two most highly used methods to increase size are the exercise techniques and the penis enlargement device. These two top methods used to enlarge the penis will work for any penis size. Any normal man can expect gains from one full inch up to three full inches in a matter of 1-6 months.
Of course, you can technically go bigger if you want to. Be advised though, that a penis size bigger than eight inches is asking for trouble. Most women find a penis this size painful, and anyway it’s the first four inches of the vagina that really counts. In this way, girth or thickness can be most important for satisfying a woman. The perfect size to work toward is totally up to you but anything around 7-8 inches is definitely worth the effort.
Results may vary due to your current size, and how often you workout with exercises or wear the penis traction device, but everyone will get at least some results. If you have any serious medical problems, you might want to talk to your doctor before trying to enlarge your penis.
Staying motivated
Most men who stay motivated and continue their penis enlargement method will see positive and permanent results. Some men give up too early and swear that penis enlargement does not work. Do not let yourself give in by sticking to your exercises and use of your traction device.
Measuring your penis
Results will come and you will feel fantastic when you see the progress as you measure your penis. Be careful not to measure too often though as you may get disappointed if you see no results. Measure every 3 weeks instead of every few days and you will see what I mean.
If you use the exercises, try to mix a new exercise into your routine every few weeks as you get more comfortable with the correct way to workout.
If you choose to try the traction device, some companies like SizeGenetics will give you access to a penis enlargement exercise guide, which you can also use to speed up your gains. This is the recommended option for those who want the fastest results possible.
The results you see from penis enlargement come from the effort you put in. You will not lose any of the gains you make, they will stay with you. Getting started in natural penis enlargement will leave a big smile on your partners face and a bigger bulge in your pants that guys will envy you for.
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In Northern Australia the Didjeridu is seen as a phallic symbol and therefore a male instrument. Women are prohibited from playing.
Stories of the Didjeridu vary from place to place among the different language-speaking groups in this large continent.
In the beginning, in the North of Australia, a giant captured two young girls to be his wives. One day they escaped and made their way back to their tribal people.
The tribal elders knew the giant would ccme looking for his brides so they dug a huge pit along the path leading to their home camp as a trap. They waited behind an anthill.
In his anger and haste, the giant came running and fell into the pit. The tribal hunters threw their spears, mortally wounding him. The giant curled into a ball in his death throes. As he curled into himself he began to blow on his penis, making an eerie droning sound. He rolled and roared, thrashing around in the pit, the deep drone of his penis thrummed through the earth and caused the birds to fly high into the heavens.
The men wanted to recapture such a sound of power, so they searched for and found a large hollow log with the centre eaten out by termites. By blowing on one end of this hollow log, they were able to create the sound made by the giant in his death throes.
And from that time, the didjeridu is a sacred instrument to men, for it holds the power of the giant.
In another story from the South-East of Australia, three men were camped in the bush on a cold night in the middle of winter. One of the men, watching the fire, picked up another log to feed the flame which was getting low. As he picked up the log he found it was hollow but thought no more about it until he turned to drop it into the fire and noticed the entire length was covered with termites.
He didn't know what to do for the termites were his totem ! He couldn't throw the branch into the fire, because it would kill the termites but the fire had to be kept burning on such a night.
He carefully removed all the termites from the outside of the log by scooping them into his hand and gently placing them inside the branch. Then he raised the branch to his lips and blew the termites into the air.
And the termites blown into the air became the stars and the first didjeridu was made.
The didjeridu is the world's oldest known musical instrument. Traditionally, it's made from a branch in which white ants eat their way up through the centre towards the sunlight. The outer shell of the branch remains solid and protects the ants. Eventually the branch dies and falls to the ground. After shaping the ends and marking it with personal designs, this becomes the didjeridu.
Many Aboriginal people believe that there is a man's spirit inside the didjeridu - so women may not play it.
And if you listen now to the didjeridu it will go into your ears, open your heart and lift your spirit.
