Smacking it up. Flipping it. Rubbing it down.

Sitting at my desk typing this. I’m in my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. I just finished my Cajun blackened sea turtle in focaccia with spicy mayonnaise. I burp.

Last night I was hanging out at Angles, nursing a Cadenhead's Old Raj Gin and Hybolin Decanoate. I cracked my neck, took another sip and scanned the room for my next conquest. Somebody sorely in need of my superior man on woman sensuality that you are not wont to find on this message board. As I scan, Jim sidles up to the bar asking me for more advice on pleasing his woman in bed. I have given him many suggestions in the past. I’ve given him Tao: Cat And Mice Sharing A Hole, Cicada On A Bough, and even the Dragon Turns. I’ve given him the secrets of the Yoni: the Uchchushita then the Jihva-bhramanaka, telling him to cleave asunder that archway with his nose and letting his tongue gently probe her yoni with his nose, lips and chin slowly circling. I’ve given him Mausala, where stiff as a pole in the bed's center, I instructed him make love to his woman in way that would make her coo and warble like a woodpigeon.

Jim’s, “Anything else I can use?” I’m, “Yes. But be very careful. One slip-up can cause disaster beyond anything you have ever known. I give you this from the ancient teachings of Bell Biv Devoe. First, you’ll need to smack it up. Then, flip it. Last, rub it down.” Jim’s, “Ok. First I flip it, then smack it up, then rub it down?” Me, “No. No. No. Smack it up. Flip it. Rub it down.” Jim, “Gotcha.” I finish my drink and head home to my Adams Morgan compound.

Me you ask? Eating rare and endangered animals. The Tao. The Kama Sutra. Smacking it up. Flipping it. Rubbing it down. That is what I am about. And if you are ready for my superior version of man on woman sensuality, drop me a line.