The other day, while I was in the middle of a serious internal debate wondering if male smurfs still call sperm back up "blue balls", I heard my computer alarm me that I had a new email. As I gripped my computer mouse to check my email, the internal debate shifted from "smurfs" to wondering "how many germs were on my mouse from all the porn I "spank" to", I saw that I had received an email from a black gentleman named Jarvis from New York City. He went on to say how much he enjoyed my blog and how crazy I am, and that as a gay man he was "pleasantly surprised" at how "gay friendly" my blog was, and how homophobic other bloggers tend to be. He then asked me how I was raised, how did I become so tolerant of people with different "sexual orientations". Like trying to desperately regain an erection after clumsily pre-ejaculating, I had to think long and hard about that one. I wanted to write Jarvis back and tell him that I am the way that I am because I came from a loving home, a home that preached the equality of all people. Well, I couldn't say that, my mother was indifferent but my father's continuous response to weakness was him saying, "What are you a faggot?", so I couldn't lie to Jarvis about that one. I wanted to write Jarvis and tell him how I was tolerant and accepting because we are all gods children, giving him some saccharin PC answer that would make me look like the poster boy for progressive thought. But I couldn't lie to Jarvis, so like an uncircumcised man about to engage in intercourse, I had to give Jarvis the uncut truth.
So I responded, in my my totally honest and classless fashion, "I have always been tolerant because at an early age I knew that I loved pussy." I knew that my cryptic and crass statement would have Jarvis scratching his head a bit, and he did respond to my email with a shitload of question-marks, so I explained further. I explained to him that I wished that I could give him a wonderful answer explaining my tolerance, but the simple truth is from the time that I was 5 years old and I inappropriately stroked the legs of a 10 year old neighbor of mine named Shelly and liked it tremendously, I knew that I loved women. I went on to explain that most homophobia, as much as guys who read this will protest, is a man's fear that somewhere deep in his subconscious that he secretly craves cock. Seriously, and you can find these jackasses from them saying shit like "I'm not gay" or "No homo" after saying something very innocent like "Brad Pitt is my favorite actor." What the fuck is that? My theory is, if you are secure in your sexuality then you wouldn't give a flying fuck what other people do with their sexual organs.
That's probably not what Jarvis wanted to hear, but I had to be honest, I
knew I loved the female body when I stroked Shelly's leg and openly wondered why my "wee-wee" hurt when I did so. To this day, whether in a strip club, a cafe, the grocery store, or at a different strip club, my eyes become transfixed on the beautiful specimen of the female physique, scanning over it entirely like a metal detector and shit. I was wondering would it be alright, without getting crass and making this post masturbatory material, if I celebrated the female body and specific parts that I love? Even if your answer is "no", fuck you, I'm doing it anyway.
The small of the back: Nothing is more erotic and sexy in my honest opinion than the small of a woman's back, but there are exceptions. This particular area is a beautiful sight if it belongs to a wife, a girlfriend, or any other woman that you have a wealth of emotional attachment to. But this area tends to lose its power when it is attached to some miscellaneous piece of ass that you hardly know, or that you need a Kevlar condom to have intercourse with, the small of the back isn't as sexy in these cases. I love tattoos, I even have a few, but when a beautiful woman desecrates this wonderful area with what I call a "tramp stamp"(Tattoo on the lower back), it is the highest form of vandalism in my honest opinion. I've been told that I am as romantic as a prison rape, but I have to admit, I feel all tingly inside when I envision kissing the small of my future wife's back while a sensual Sade songs plays in the background.
Lips: Besides the actual words that come out of the ones mouth, nothing is a clearer indicator of how much someone likes you than a simple kiss. For example, I once dated an older woman who just wanted me for late-night penis and that was it, and I could tell because her kisses gave off a "Yeah, Yeah, stop kissing me and get to the thrusting" vibe to it. Then on the other side of the spectrum, I think of the way past girlfriends lips felt when they truly loved me, before they found out that I was a prick, it was amazing. I recently hung out with a Jamaican girl who praised me for not staring at her breasts the 2 hours I was talking to her, but if she realized why I was staring at her lips and the erotic thoughts that raced through my mind, the last thing she would have done was thank me. But thoughts of "mouth hugs" and hopes of her not having a "gag reflex" aside, a beautiful set of lips will drop me to my knees faster than a black republican if George Bush just entered the room.
Eyes: I once dated a local comedian who not had an acerbic wit and put me on the business end of her ridicule, she would include me in her act which was embarrassing. Usually I'd attack back with my own brand of merciless wit, but her eyes were so captivating she probably would have had the best chance to recruit me to the republican party than anyone. They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, who knows, but I do know that nothing puts a grown man in a trance faster than a beautiful pair of eyes lovingly gazing back at you across a dinner table, or mid coitus. The flip-side to that, unfortunately, is the intense look of hatred you get from a woman when you pre-ejaculate or mistakenly call her mother a heffer. Suffice it to say, I know that look very well. But since I used to rap, and I have always had a slight studder, I still laugh at the time she said, "What did they call you, MC Stammer?"
The "backyard": Like MF Doom said, and I quote, "I never met a chick who was too thick for me!" I'm not going to lie, I would love to go on a lengthy diatribe about how B.E.T's late-night show "Uncut" is deplorable in their objectification of black woman in videos. I mean, it is horrible, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't briefly view one of those videos for a view of a well sculpted posterior, albeit momentarily.(I am a man goddammit) But seriously, even though I constantly talk about wanting a woman with a backside that "one could put a drink on", all that really isn't necessary, if you are "draggin''" a smaller "wagon" that is alright with me. Some of you are saying, "Hey, I don't have a big booty, what about me HumanityCritic?", to that I would say, "Piss off, get the fuck out of here, eat more meat and come back when you have an ass!!" Just kidding, but I do have a weakness for a woman with a "well manicured backyard" so to speak. Over the past few years I have stopped smoking, chilled out on the alcohol(to an extent), and stopped inserting myself in every questionable hole in the Hampton Roads area, but the hardest thing to give up is turning around and looking at a woman's ass after she passes me.
Legs: Did I ever tell you the story of me having sex with a 29 year old woman when I was 17?? Well, if you have time, I go into that here. She was a 29 year old house-guest of my family's when I was in High School, and lets just say I was the happiest High Schooler in the history of man.(Geez, I really hope my mom doesn't read this.) Anyway, her name was Sherry and she is the reason why I love all Canadian women and have a special attachment to woman's legs. I have a love for Canadian women(An extremely weird connection to Alanis Morrisette proves that.) because she was from Nova Scotia and she turned me into a man, like twice a day for an entire year and shit. I have a love for legs because each morning, when my parents were at work, she would cook breakfast in a very tiny skirt, exposing two pieces of heavenly bliss that I still have flashbacks about till this day about. I'm not Colonel Sanders or anything, but if I said that I was a sucker for legs it wouldn't be an understatement. Especially that erotic area right behind the knee, makes a brother want to curse out a preacher and call someone's mother a dimestore whore.(wait a minute, I've already done that.) This is embarrassing, but whenever I see a woman walking towards me, working a pair of stilettos while showing off her lovely legs, I find myself screaming "Work it! Work it!!"
Breasts: Notice how I purposely had this one at the bottom of the list, to make me seem less "scum-baggy'?(Cool, I know you would figure out my rouse). Anyway, I have to make a very bold statement, "bold" because all of my friends claim that a woman's derriere is number one on their list.(Clearing throat) OK, here goes, I'm HumanityCritic and I am a breast man, there I said it! Even though I am an equal opportunity breast enjoyer, embracing mammory's fake or real, I have to be honest and say that real breasts are my favorite. I dated a stripper named "Lexus"(go figure) and she had extremely large and fake breasts, and every time we had sex(when I wasn't spitting glitter out of my mouth) I kept feeling like I would accidentally pop them if I got too rough. Those two scoops of lustful goodness are my downfall, from the time I got sand in my eyes in elementary school and pretended to grab the nurses breasts by accident, or me paying for an extremely expensive dinner with an ass-less result just because the woman in question exposed cleavage that a midget could bungee jump off of. My therapist claims its because I'm a sex addict, and my mother claims that its because I was breast fed(Excuse me while I throw up), but I do embrace long extended hugs from women with healthy "sweater puppets".