The Way I Know

You know how you are sure that the sex was good? You know how to tell when that encounter was worth every second, every touch and kiss and squeaking, undulating bedpost? You can tell because weeks later, months later, in the midst of fantasizing, you find yourself fantasizing about those encounters as if they were made up in your mind. You find yourself using those moments to stimulate fantasy, sometimes even just replace fantasy with memory.

That is how I know that the sex was good. That is how I know my mind got blown. When the echoes of her moaning are still ringing in my ear and i get excited at just the thought of her lips on my body or mine on hers, that is the way I know.

Sexual Game Guide Pt. 3 - The P.F.B

The P.F.B. is a new concept in the Zen world. Over the course of a conversation the other night I have assembled the basics of what it takes to successfully have a P.F.B or Primary Fuck Buddy. I hope my explanation helps to illuminate and feel free to comment, as always.

The major problem when dealing with the concept of "fuck buddy" is the level of complication that it involves. At first, the situation may seem to have more positives than negatives. However, due to what can only be described as the "human condition", things tend to go awry. Jealousy when one of the buddies finds a traditional relationship, the "I'm not good enough" complex, overall complications.

While the P.F.B scenario does not SOLVE all of these problems, it does attempt to alleviate them in the most efficient way possible. That is, open communication and lots and lots of honesty. Let's talk about some of the thought process that goes into the P.F.B.

1. Fuck buddies are an interesting concept anyway. The sex MUST be good. If it wasn't, wouldn't you just find another buddy? It's not like you have a relationship right? So then, I would assume that you and your buddy are having good if not great sex.

2. The complications between buddies always seem to arise when people decide to NOT be buddies any more. The decision is usually one sided. The decision has to do with people wanting a monogamous relationship with someone else. It's always handled wrong and the taste it leaves in the mouth is not a desirable one.
3. These things being said, here is how the P.F.B works well -
a. Open communication serves to address jealousy and other problems immediately without letting them fester.
b. Since we've established that the sex must be good with your fuck buddy, let's take it one step further with Rule #1 for P.F.B. that says: If both parties in the P.F.B relationship are single, then all sexual actions are allowed between both parties. If, for any reason, an A.F.B (Auxiliary Fuck Buddy) is in the picture at the time of mutual singularity, the P.F.B takes precedence over the A.F.B in all cases of sexual encounters and meetings.
Thus, it is during the time that one of the P.F.Bs is in a monogamous relationship that the other is allowed to have A.F.Bs.
c. There is really only one more rule that needs to be addressed in the relationship as an overview. Rule #2: Any time that either party in the P.F.B relationship decides to engage in a monogamous relationship with someone, they must inform the other P.F.B BEFORE beginninig the monogamy. This eliminates feelings of inadequacy and maintains the communication necessary for the P.F.B relationship to stay healthy during it's non-sexual period.

The idea, overall, is to remain friends. Fuck buddies are usually short term things. We could compare them to a disposable razor. Easy, no hassle, and thrown away at the end of use. However, this causes unnecessary waste of something that could possibly have more worth. So then, let's continue the analogy and say that the P.F.B relationship is more like a straight razor. It can be sharpened over and over to keep the shave as close and smooth as possible. It can be re-used and always cleaned. It will always have it's worth, even if it is no longer utilized as it once was. Though, we must remember, that the P.F.B, much like the straight razor, can be a wonderful thing, and if mis-treated...could very easily slit your throat.

A Tension Getter

Maybe you were thinking I had died. Maybe you were thinking I had given up on my Zen, found some little commune to live out my life as a celibate hippy (quite the oximoron i might add). Maybe you thought I'd joined the priesthood and renounced my evil ways. Maybe you just didn't care and gave up even checking to see if i'd written. Maybe you thought I was gone.

So enough of the fucking foreplay, let's get to the Zen.

Tonight finally felt like summer. Tonight was alive with electricity and on the verge of exploding. The tension walked that thin thin line between complete immersion and total loss of control. We danced and sang and drank and paid homage to Dionysus in some modern day Carmina Burana prelude.

Nothing was safe. No neck, no nibble, no description of the view from between a beautiful woman's legs escaped our conversation. I was on fire and, at first, I thought I was alone. I thought that the simple presence of her, those goddamn eyes and that little body, just begging me to worship it and simultaneously ravage it unrelentingly was the reason for my tension, for the zen calm. Instead I could see that those i was with, those in my orbit tonight, were just as bothered by their libidos and just as ready to be switched on like some massive spotlight screaming FUCK ME into the night sky.

So we danced and sang and drank and flirted with disaster. I fucked people with my eyes and they felt it and fucked back harder. I let words roll off my tongue, wishing my tongue was occupied differently. We resisted urges and then we didn't. We gave in to the flow of the tension that was running laps through the bar.

After tonight, thanks to a zen bar and the brothers of Zen themselves, I believe we have returned to that place, so dangerous and appealing and beautiful. I believe it is time to listen to that voice, crying for some nourishment. Crying to kiss and suck and touch and lick and bite and fuck and collapse in a heap of blissful, sweaty, tangled body. So tangled that they gave up trying to be two bodies at all and existed only as one.

Maybe you thought the zen was gone...that I was gone...

...Maybe you were wrong.

The Rules Of Manhood

I don't know if i agree with all of these. But GodDAMN they're funny. Enjoy. And welcome back to another attempt at Sexual Zen. Stay Tuned!!

1: Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2: It is OK for a man to cry ONLY under the following circumstances:
(a) When a heroic dog dies to save its master.
(b) The moment Haley Berry starts unbuttoning her blouse.
(c) After wrecking your boss' car.
(d) One hour, 12 minutes, 37 seconds into "The Crying Game".
(e) When she is using her teeth.

3: Any Man who brings a camera to a bachelor party may be legally killed and eaten by his buddies.

4: Unless he murdered someone in your family, you must bail a friend out of jail within 12 hours.

5: If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever unless you actually marry her.

6: Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy's fridge is forbidden. However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

7: No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man. In fact, even remembering your buddy's birthday is strictly optional. At that point, you must celebrate at a strip bar of your boy's choice.

8: On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.

9: When stumbling upon other guys watching a sporting event, you may ask the score of the game in progress, but you may never ask who's playing.

10: You may flatulate in front of a woman only after you have brought her to climax. If you trap her head under the covers for the purpose of flatulent entertainment, she's officially your girlfriend.

11: It is permissible to drink a fruity alcohol drink only when at a tropical beach...and it's delivered by a topless waitress, and only when it's free.

12: Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed to kick another guy in the nuts.

13: Unless you're in prison, never fight naked.

14: Friends don't let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

15: If a man's fly is down, that's his problem, you didn't see anything.

16: Women who claim they "love to watch sports" must be treated as spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as much as the other sports watchers.

17: A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman
must remain sober enough to fight.

1 8: Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza, but not both, that's just greedy.

19: If you compliment a guy on his six-pack, you'd better be talking about his choice of beer.

20: Never join your girlfriend or wife in discussing a friend of yours, except if she's withholding sex pending your response.

21: Phrases that may NOT be uttered to another man while lifting weights:
(a) Yeah, Baby, Push it!
(b) C'mon, give me one more! Harder!
(c) Another set and we can hit the
showers!

22: Never talk to a man in a bathroom unless you are on equal footing: i.e., both urinating, both waiting in line, etc. For all other situations, an almost imperceptible nod is all the conversation you need.

23: Never allow a telephone conversation with a woman to go on longer than you are able to have sex with her. Keep a stopwatch by the phone. Hang up if necessary.

24: The morning after you and a girl who was formerly "just a friend" have carnal, drunken monkey sex, the fact that you're feeling weird and guilty is no reason for you not to sex each other again before the discussion about what a big mistake it was occurs.

25: It is acceptable for you to drive her car. It is not acceptable for her to drive yours.

26: Thou shalt not buy a car in the colors of brown, pink, lime green, orange or sky blue.

27: The girl who replies to the question "What do you want for Christmas?" with "If you loved me, you'd know what I want!" gets
an Xbox. End of story.

28: There is no reason for guys to watch Ice Skating or Men's Gymnastics. Ever.

We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you
informed, the definition of each is listed below.

"GUTS" is arriving home late after a night out with the guys,
being assaulted by your wife or s/o with a broom, and having the guts to say, "are you still cleaning or are you flying somewhere?"

"BALLS" is coming home late after a night out with the guys smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, lapping
your wife on the ass and having the balls to say, "You're next!"

We hope this clears up any confusion.

The International Council of Manhood

Don't worry...

I haven't left. I'm just trying this new thing called reality. It kinda sucks and I think you'll see more of me shortly. I miss you all. So, for a little longer...remember...

stay zen, stay safe and keep on fuckin'...

Vanilla Hypnotism

If i close my eyes I can still smell you
If i close my eyes I can feel you against me

When you smile in front of me it shakes me to the core
Like some sort of vanilla hypnotism sending me into fits of desire

If i close my eyes I can almost run my hands over your body
If i close my eyes I can taste you on my lips

When your eyes glint with hidden mischief
Like a cat waiting to attack, poised and tense with anticipation

If i close my eyes I am naked and inside you
If I close my eyes I can see you shaken with ecstasy

When all the mundane is overwhelming
I close my eyes

Hiatus

Almost a month and absolutely nothing to tell you. It seems the zen has decided to play a fucked up game of hide and seek. My musings on sex and relationships are all locked up and destructive. I feel benign.

By the way, all those fancy words up there translate into one thing...

I need to get laid.