A Guide to Mastering Orgasm Control for More Satisfying Sex

What’s edging, and what’s it for?

Edging (also called surfing, peaking, teasing, and more) is the practice of stopping yourself from reaching orgasm right when you’re on the cusp — the metaphorical “edge” right before you fall off the cliff into sexual climax.

This practice has grown trendy in sexual health discussions as a form of “better orgasms,” but it’s actually more than a half-century-old treatment for premature ejaculation. In a 1956 paperpublished in the Journal of Sexual Medicine, James H. Semans introduced the “stop-start method” to help people last longer before reaching orgasm.

Essentially, this means stopping sexual stimulation before you come, waiting about 30 seconds, and then stimulating yourself again, repeating until you’re ready to orgasm.

It sounds like a quick win for better sex, but edging is more like a marathon. You can’t race your way to lasting longer in bed or having a better orgasm, as some who practice this claim.

On a more holistic level, edging can make you more keenly aware of your own sexual responses both solo and with a partner, bringing mindfulness into the bedroom.

Orgasms 101: What you need to know before you start edging

“Experimentation is absolutely essential for a healthy sex life,” says Liz Klinger, co-founder and CEO of Lioness, a smart vibrator, to Healthline. She believes that having a greater awareness of how your body responds can help take the “edge” out of the anxiety that can arise in your sex life.

And when it comes to edging, you’re also learning about the four stages of arousal. Knowing these can help you narrow down when to stop and start stimulation:

  1. Excitement. Your skin starts to flush, your muscles get tense, your heartbeat gets faster, blood starts to flow quickly down to your penis or clitoris and vagina. The vagina gets wet and the scrotum withdraws.
  2. Plateau. Everything that happened in stage 1 gets even more intense. You feel yourself drawing closer and closer to orgasm. This is the stage where you should get ready to stop or slow down stimulation.
  3. Orgasm. A series of nerve and muscle responses occur, resulting in a feeling of ecstasy, increased lubrication in the vagina, and ejaculation of semen from the penis. But when you’re practicing edging, this is the stage you’re trying to avoid until ready.
  4. Resolution. After orgasm, tissues return to their non-aroused sizes and colors, and all your vitals normalize, too. This is also when the refractory period starts. It’s a temporary stretch of time where you can’t get aroused again. It can last for a few minutes up to a few days or longer.

The particular feelings you get during these four stages aren’t the same for everyone, though.

“Studies and literature support that one of the best indicators of a satisfying sex life is to masturbate and self-explore,” Klinger says. “If you don’t get to know your body and practice different techniques, you won’t know or become accustomed to your own body, which can affect your personal satisfaction, your health, and your relationship with your partner.”

5 ways to try edging at home

If you’re interested in edging, start by focusing intently on what you feel right before orgasming and staying in that stage between plateau and orgasm. The key is to listen to your body and recognize your signs. It may take trial and error, and that’s OK.

Here are five ways to experiment:

First, let’s start with the most basic edging — the stop-start method:

Solo

  1. Make your environment ideal. Lock the doors, turn down the lights, put on some music, use an oil diffuser for atmosphere, and so on.
  2. Get in the physical mood. Close your eyes and start touching yourself until your penis gets hard or your vagina gets wet.
  3. Start masturbating. Stroke your penis, stimulate your clitoris, or whatever else you know can make you come.
  4. When you feel like you’re about to come, stop stimulation. Take your hands away or slow down your movements. Take deep breaths or open your eyes, if you need.
  5. Go back to focusing on how or what got you excited. Take note of how your body changes: Do you feel tenser? More excited? Sweating or shaking more?
  6. Start touching yourself again, or masturbating faster. After your break, repeat steps 1–3 again. Do this until you feel ready to orgasm.
  7. Let it go! Allow yourself to reach orgasm. You might notice your orgasm lasts longer or feels more intense. Pay close attention to the feeling and see if edging made any difference in how much pleasure you feel.

With a partner

  1. Get aroused, either through your favorite foreplay activities or positions with your partner. Try oral sex, stimulating their G-spot, licking or flicking or sucking nipples, or whatever else gets them going.
  2. Make sure they’re vocal or give cues about when they’re going to come.
  3. Reduce or completely stop stimulation until they go back to a plateau.
  4. Start the stimulation process again, then repeat step 3 until they’re ready to come.

Next, here’s a technique for people with penises — the squeeze method:

  1. Get aroused.
  2. Stimulate yourself to orgasm.
  3. Right before you orgasm, squeeze the head of your penis to stop your orgasm.
  4. Wait 30 seconds, then feel free to start stimulating yourself again.

And try this technique proven to help people with premature ejaculation — ballooning:

  1. Find an area on your penis that’s especially sensitive. Don’t touch any other area on your penis — just that one area.
  2. Gently move your finger around that area in a circle.
  3. Keep rubbing the area until you’re fully hard, and keep it up until you feel like you’re about to come.
  4. Stop touching your penis right before you orgasm.
  5. Let yourself get a little soft, then rub that area again until you’re close to orgasm.

Repeat this as many times as you’d like, but don’t come. Ballooning is purported to help make you last longer by training yourself to control when you orgasm, so refraining from orgasm is key to making this exercise work.

And if you’re feeling extra adventurous, try a vibrator:

Some vibrators even give you biofeedback on what’s going on in your body as you move the vibrator in and out of your vagina and stimulate your clitoris.

With a vibrator, you can explore different angles, levels of penetration, vibration speeds and rhythms, and much more. Use your imagination!

Comparing orgasms

What’s the benefit of edging?

You might be wondering, Who even thought of doing this in the first place?

Edging can have a few different benefits for improving masturbation and sex:

1. Help people, especially those with vaginas, achieve orgasm more easily

2014 study of 96 women found that those who masturbate are more likely to reach orgasm. Much of this seems to relate to the anxiety that many people feel around pleasuring themselves and others.

If you haven’t spent a lot of time getting to know your own body, you may not even know what arouses you or gets you there — and that can translate into unfulfilling sexual experiences and contribute to your feelings of anxiety about sex.

2. Reduce feelings of embarrassment by building body awareness and confidence

2006 study of nearly 2,000 women found that up to three-quarters of them reported female sexual dysfunctions but felt too embarrassed to talk about them with their doctor, in addition to feeling like their doctor had no time, interest, or training to discuss sex at all.

Learning more about yourself through edging can give you more “data” and confidence in approaching your doctor or even your partner about any questions you have or issues you face in your sex life. This can translate into better health outcomes.

3. Remove the emphasis of penetration for more holistic partnered sex

Lastly, a 2018 study of more than 1,000 women found that many (about 36.6 percent) can only achieve orgasm through clitoral stimulation, while only 18 percent can reach orgasm through sexual intercourse alone.

These results show how important it is to experiment with activities like edging that allow you to explore numerous ways to pleasure yourself. Even if you’re one of the few who can come from penile/vaginal intercourse, learning to control when you want to orgasm can bring an extra bit of fun to the experience.

How to know when to stop your edging process and come.

It’s up to you! If you’re edging solo, feel free to let yourself orgasm whenever you feel ready.

If you’re edging with a partner, listen to them. Communicate with them. Talk to each other or come up with some other kind of sign or safe word to let them know (and so they can let you know) when you’re ready to come. Listening is the key here.

Also, be mindful of whether delaying your orgasm might lead to something called a half ordisappearing orgasmWhen this happens, you may not feel the full-body effects of orgasm, like vaginal contractions, or feel like you’re getting right to the edge but never actually reach orgasm, even when you’re ready.

Timing stimulation with the whole-body experience that comes along with having an orgasm can be challenging when you finally feel ready to come, but don’t get frustrated! Practice makes perfect.

If you have a penis, you may feel like you’re about to come, but the tension leading right up to ejaculation disappears. You may also feel like you’re coming but nothing comes out. This is known as a dry orgasm.

Dry orgasms are nothing to worry about. This is all natural and may not happen every time. They don’t reflect on your sexual potency, and in many cases don’t impact your fertility. But if you’re concerned, see a doctor or sexual health professional for a checkup.

A condition called delayed ejaculation often comes up in these conversations. However, the effects of this condition are typically psychological because of the stress and anxiety that not being able to ejaculate can cause if you aren’t choosing to do so.

Another common misunderstanding about edging is that it leads to epididymal hypertension in men, known better by its nickname “blue balls.”

There are false claims about the “harm” that can result when you get aroused but don’t come. But blue balls don’t have any long-term health effects on your sexual health. In fact, people with penises can relieve “blue balls” by using the Valsalva maneuver. Just hold your nose and exhale until you feel like your ears are clearing out.

One major side effect to consider with edging is how you approach this practice. If this method becomes a priority in your sex life or relationship, it can lead to personal distress, reduced sexual satisfaction, and relationship conflict. Never delay someone’s pleasure without their consent. An orgasm isn’t the be-all and end-all of sex, nor does it define a sexual encounter.

If you are concerned that you can’t ejaculate even when you want to, see a doctor or sexual health professional for advice.

There’s no harm in experimenting and deciding for yourself.

Any kind of sexual experimentation can help you discover yourself and what turns you on. Not everything will work for you, but that’s OK.

Basically, you won’t know if you don’t try. Edging may seem challenging at first, but you may find that standing on the “edge” may be simply exhilarating, especially when you decide to let yourself come and feel the extra intensity of finally letting yourself jump off the orgasm cliff.

 

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5 Things Women Wish They Could Change About Men

Walk the streets of a busy city and you might experience some man-slamming. If you’ve never heard of man-slamming, I’ll give you some brief background on a study that labor organizer Beth Breslaw performed to see how men walk. She noticed that when a man and woman are walking towards one another on a crowded street, it’s usually the woman that has to move out of the way and make room for the oncoming entitled man. In an experiment, she decided that she wasn’t going to move out of the way and see what would happen. As a result, she collided into the majority of the men she walked by. This is where we got the term man-slamming. You can try it on your own, but brace yourself and perhaps try not to collide with a man twice your size or a one who looks like a creeper who might enjoy the collision a bit too much.

Male superiority is deemed medieval concept, but it still exists today in subtle forms because, let’s face it, men were born with a huge ego. Their entitlement factor is embedded in their DNA and affects the rest of their personality along with how they treat women. Here are the top fifteen things that, if they could, women would want to change about men.

5.

MORE SUPPORTIVE AND ENCOURAGING

5 Things Women Wish They Could Change About Men

Via knowyourmeme.com

Very few men are gifted with the ability to empathize and encourage. In fact, many women relate their experiences of talking to one to that of talking to a brick wall. Unless they’re a trained professional (chaplain, clergy, counselor, etc.) or they’re unusually sensitive, men just aren’t good at providing positive reinforcement, support, and encouragement. They’d rather watch other men run around a field chasing a ball into a goal than listen to a woman open up about her painful life experiences. Simply put, men just aren’t naturally wired to care. And if you do happen to engage in this type of conversation with a man, he’s more likely to give you cut-and-dry, get-over-it types of solutions for your problems rather than offer a shoulder to cry on.

4.

MORE COMMON GROUND

5 Things Women Wish They Could Change About Men

Via reddit.com

Just like how women desire more heart-to-heart, women also wish they could share more common ground with men. This doesn’t just apply to romantic partners, but also to professional colleagues as well. In fact, this is the one aspect that causes a rift between men and women. In the workplace, men naturally gravitate towards other men who they share more common interests with. This often leaves women wishing they could have an equal playing field when it comes to rubbing elbows with upper management. This also explains why men are more quick to earn promotions and share executive-level positions with other males.

3.

BETTER SENSE OF HUMOR

5 Things Women Wish They Could Change About Men

Via memegenerator.com

They say that laughter is the key to every successful relationship. When you see a hot chick paired with a regular-looking Joe Blow, it’s probably because he’s got an amazing personality or is the life of a party. Especially after they’ve had their share of dating every type of guy in the book, women just want a man who can keep them happy. No one wants to be stuck with in a relationship like Kourtney Kardashian and Scott Desick where Desick is a total scumbag who could really use a major personality adjustment. Sometimes, men just need to lighten up and learn the art of putting a smile on a girl’s face.

2.

NICER IN GENERAL

5 Things Women Wish They Could Change About Men

Via youtube.com

Let’s face it… most men just aren’t very sensitive beings. I’ve worked in departments where there were one or two women out of fifty men. Especially in computer-based settings, men just aren’t the most friendliest of people. I recall numerous accounts of asking an IT guy for help with a computer application only to be glared at and condescendingly spoken to like I was the village idiot. Granted, there are plenty of bitchy women out there in the world as well. But hey, we have to deal with PMS and mood swings. Otherwise, at our baseline, we’re pretty sensitive and amicable. Men, on the other hand, have no excuse for being bitchy.

1.

LESS EGO

5 Things Women Wish They Could Change About Men

Via corrierepl.it

How many men have you met in your lifetime who just thought they were the shit? Men just naturally have a big ego in contrast to their female counterparts who more frequently deal with insecurity issues. In fact, one of the top complaints women have about their male spouses or partners is his overwhelming pride. It’s very rare for a man to admit to his weaknesses and shortcomings. Just look at most father figures. It’s uncommon to see a father cry and when he does (at his daughter’s wedding or at a close relative’s funeral), it’s quite a moving sight to see. It’s even possible that men might easily pick up on all of the other traits after first tackling their ego.

 

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Beware of Men Who Pursue You Too Much

http://va.topbuzz.com/s/TMMSQcp

 

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The Beach House – Chapter 1

I’ve been writing a great deal of fiction in the last year. Mostly story driven erotica. I’m just trying some new things and it’s not going all that well over at La Petite Mort. The site is failing despite 5 series running daily over there.

I was inspired to write a story of redemption by a friend of mine. I was listening to him and spending time with him, and this tale began to form in my mind. I don’t know where it came from, but it began to form like everything else I’ve ever written.

I’ve always thought about my art.

I need to draw a picture.

I need to write  song.

I need to tell a story.

 

That never works.

 

I get a feeling from a person, in this case my friend Church. And it just comes. The words flow out of the pen onto the page, and in this case, keys to a website. Forever.

I got it!

Thank you Church!

 

This series is dedicated to my dear friend, Church. Who has faced many struggles but continues to prevail. 

I ran the idea of this story by him a few months ago and he liked it, so I’m writing it for him. Normally anything new I’m doing I announce it at the beginning of the new year. But I’ve been so inspired lately I’m releasing it NOW.

I hope you all like this work. 

It’s a tale of redemption and change, and I think we can all learn from that. (If it gets too sexy, I’ll post those chapters on the other site, La Petite Mort)

Thank you for your friendship Church. 

I am here for you on your journey.

 

Life is fleeting and fragile. Enjoy yourself!

 

Okay… here we go into a fictional fun story. I hope you enjoy it! (I’m new at this! Be gentle!)

 

 

I looked out over the pool to a pristine beach not one hundred steps below the chlorinated water. To the left, I saw trees and a stone fence, to the right, more palm trees and the same stone fence. Both fences transitioned into a jagged rock wall that defined the perimeter of the private beach. I couldn’t see the neighbors on either side. It was perfect.

I heard the real estate agent exit the sliding glass door. She was a heavy-set woman, impeccably dressed, with a phony happy sales attitude. I didn’t care for her much. She wore a bit too much perfume and always thought she knew what was best for me. Of course, I didn’t really care for anyone so she was at a disadvantage to begin with.

“I’ll take it.” I said without turning to look at her. I heard her high heels stop on the rock patio.

“You haven’t really looked at the house, Mr. Tomlinson.” There she goes trying to control my thoughts again. I was only interested in the privacy. This place blocked out the rest of the world. It would be my private little slice of heaven. The house was devoid of furniture which was a good thing. It meant it was already vacant and I could close the deal quickly.

“Make the offer Mrs. Johnson. Full asking price.” I raised my hand in hopes she would see that I had already made my decision. This was the fourth place I looked at and the first to meet my original qualifications. If she had just listened, she could have sold it this morning and not wasted half my day.

“Are you sure? I am quite confident we can negotiate it down ten, maybe twenty percent.” God, I am glad she doesn’t work for me. I would fire the bitch on the spot. What part of “make the offer” didn’t she understand? I wanted the property and didn’t want to deal with anyone any longer than absolutely necessary. I turned to her.

“Make the offer. Full asking price.” I made it sound a bit ominous. Why did I have to repeat myself? I hated the need for agents. She stepped back a bit and reached into her purse for her phone.

“Of… of course, Mr. Tomlinson.” She fumbled her phone, and it almost dropped to the stone patio. “I’ll have the papers drawn up immediately. They will want ten percent in earnest money.” She was back to her business self. “Would you like me to bring the paperwork to you tomorrow morning?” Like I wanted to see this woman first thing in the morning or ever again for that matter.

“A Monica Rose will call you and complete the purchase.” I started walking back through the house toward my car. I wasn’t interested in a conversation or politely accompanying her out. Happily, I chose not to ride with Johnson so I hopped in my car and sped off.

I entered the hotel at the rear entrance. I don’t have to feign niceties to the staff that way. I needed to get my new house livable as soon as possible. I expected to close by end of next week. I had enough lawyers on the payroll to make sure that it would go smoothly. I would need furniture and all the other necessities to make it home. I called up one of the few people in the world I respected.

“Monica, its Dale Tomlinson.” Monica handles things for me. She doesn’t discuss options and try to help. She just does.

“Mr. Tomlinson, what can I do for you?” Yes, that’s what I like to hear. No bullshit niceties. Just business.

“I am purchasing a beachfront home and need it furnished and move-in ready as soon as possible.” Watch her work.

“This week, sir.” She sounded a bit hesitant. Not like her at all.

“That is what ‘as soon as possible means.’ ” I usually didn’t have to repeat myself to her.

“Of course sir! Address?” I could almost see her writing it down as I regurgitated it. I told her to talk with Mrs. Johnson to finalize the sale and to access the property.

“Style?” I told her it would be classic comfort. I intended to spend a lot of time there. I don’t think it was an actual style, but Monica had a wonderful way of interpreting my needs.

“Budget?” Whatever it takes. I didn’t want to limit her creativity. I was going to actually live there.

“I will get a flight out tomorrow.” She was fast. That’s why I liked her. I don’t think she cared for me personally, but that was unimportant. I knew she liked my business, and she charged me well for her speed. Fine with me; I can always make more money. It’s time that is at a premium. What’s funny is that I have only met her in person a couple of times. Now I just call her with what I want and it’s done. I couldn’t think of a more perfect arrangement. I hung up the phone—no need for goodbyes.

It took three weeks to occupy the house. Damn owners were out of country, and I had to wait till they returned. They should have made arrangements for a possible sale before they left. Assholes pretty much ruined a week of my life. I really hate people. On the other hand, Monica was wonderful as always. The house was move-in ready. I was sure it cost me an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. Even the kitchen and bar were stocked. I only had to transfer my personal effects, and I was home.

I wasn’t sure why she had put a pool table in the rec room. I never have guests so it won’t get any use. I guess it was just there to take up the large space available. The pool had way too many lounge chairs, but I guess it gave the area a more lived in look. The beach itself was exactly as I envisioned. One lounger under a giant umbrella. This is why I bought the place. I aimed to spend a good portion of my life lying in that chair, reading books and letting the gentle waves wash away the rest of the world. This was paradise as far as I was concerned.

I walked down to the sand, and sure enough, the waves were playing a symphony on the bordering breaker rocks. Civilization was drowned out. The adjoining beaches were completely blocked from view so I could expect zero interruptions. I was so pleased, I decided not to go back up. I stripped to my boxers and lined the lounger up for maximum shade time. I loved the beach, the waves, and the warmth. I could do without the sun. It was way too bright and made me sweat. I lay back and let the sound of the waves roll over my body. This was by far the best purchase I had ever made. It wasn’t long before I was sound asleep. It was just that peaceful.

The damn sun woke me about two hours later. It began to roast my feet by the time I had pulled myself from dreamland. There has to be an umbrella that tracks the sun. I vowed to find one as I snapped my knees up to cool my feet. There is always something in this universe that likes to screw with my well-being. Today, it was the sun.

I returned inside and fired up my laptop. It was time to review my trades. I had inherited a huge bond portfolio just before the 2008 crash. My grandmother, the only person I ever enjoyed being around, had conservatively purchased munis, federal and triple A corporate bonds. She purchased them from selling off my grandfather’s position in a highly profitable internet firm at his death. She was a lovely woman whose passing I took hard. Having lost my parents early in life, Grandma was my rock and my soul. As the bonds matured and the munis were called, I dumped the money into the stock market. My timing couldn’t have been better. When everyone was selling, I was buying. I grew a $100 million portfolio into a half billion dollar empire with me as the emperor.

Most people didn’t even know my name, and I liked it that way. Money can buy power and influence. I used it to ensure my isolation. Monica was my wall against the world. She would handle all the crap that the money generated when it was spent. She, unfortunately, was becoming a bit irreplaceable. I paid her generously in hopes that she never moved on. It would be almost impossible to find anyone who could match her efficiency. I sometimes got shivers thinking about life without her.

With my portfolio looking as good as ever, I started opening cabinets in the kitchen looking for something to eat. Monica had seen to that with her usual perfection. There were plates and silverware, a drawer full of take-out menus sorted by Yelp ratings, the fridge and freezer filled with food, and one cabinet filled to the doors with wonderful cans of heaven. My one vice was SpaghettiOs.

High School was hell for me. I had never fit in so I spent four years trying to stay far away from others. When I failed, I suffered. I wasn’t big enough, not good looking enough, and I never knew what to say. There was only one person who didn’t care about my awkwardness. My Grandma would be waiting for me to return home and could tell from my expression what kind of day I had. My best memories of high school were sitting in the kitchen eating SpaghettiOs with my Grandma. It may sound sad to others, but to me it was a wonderful stress-free environment. Just the smell of the canned wonder cooking on the stove would let me forget my nameless torturers. To this day, those cans brought Grandma back to my mind. Monica was priceless; she knew me well.
I poured a can into a pot on the stove and sat back to enjoy the aroma. Just like the waves, the smell washed away the world. I could almost see Grandma’s smiling face. I tried not to eat it every day so I wouldn’t get bored. I grabbed a bowl and poured a serving and headed off to the flat panel to watch a movie. A nap on the beach, SpaghettiOs and a good movie. This day was better than most. I made a mental note to eat something a bit more nutritious later.

Besides some annoying interruptions by assholes that needed my signature, my week went fairly well. I allocate one day a week to clean house and do the laundry. I had a maid once, but I just couldn’t stand having her around. The repeated “good mornings” and “how are you todays” made me want to puke. I decided it was easier on my soul to just handle it myself. Hell, it was the only real work I had to do anyway. It was almost therapeutic. One day of work made the other six days more valuable.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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Tales of Rock – Why Surf Rock Legend Dick Dale Is Almost 80 And Still Touring

In 1962, legendary surf rock guitarist Dick Dale released his biggest hit, “Misirlou.” You probably know it as the song Tarantino used in the opening titles of Pulp Fiction.

At nearly 80 years old, Dale is still touring, still playing “Misirlou” as quickly as ever. He says if he stops touring, he’ll die. And that’s not the hyperbolic refusal of a star to let old age keep him from rocking. You see, Dale is suffering from a variety of ailments, and they’re all battling to be the one that kills him first. He needs the money earned from touring to help pay his medical bills. These are the health problems he’s had to deal with:

Renal failure Rectal cancer Diabetes Rectal cancer, again Blinding pain caused by severe spinal damage Having part of his stomach and intestines removed because of the rectal cancer.

Hearing of his financial plight, you’d think he’s scrambling for some late-in-life cash to make up for the time he bought Bengal tigers for everyone in his entourage. Not so. Dale wears a colostomy bag beneath his clothes. His doctors recommend that he clean and redress his entry hole once a week, to which Dale calls bullshit. Following their directions made him unnecessarily suffer from the kind of infections that tend to occur when you poop from a hole in your stomach. So he’d rather re-patch twice a day and stay infection-free, but his insurance refuses to cover those costs. The only surefire way to get the out-of-pocket $3,000 a month he needs to cover the cost of the additional medical supplies is to tour.

But touring has turned out to be a double-edged sword, kind of like the metaphorical one Dale uses to describe the pain in his spine every time he stands up. It pays the bills, sure, but he’s in agony the whole time he’s on stage. And there’s always the chance that his medical equipment will fail him during a show. For example, just before taking the stage at a show in Las Vegas, his colostomy bag tore and liquid shit ran down his legs. His wife quickly washed all his clothes in a backstage sink. He put the clothes back on and proceeded to give the 90-minute performance fans had paid to see. Though you can’t really put a price on getting to watch a sopping wet old man who smells vaguely like diarrhea play that song The Black Eyed Peas sampled for “Pump It.”

Facing his own mortality every day for decades has given Dick Dale time to think about the perfect way to go: “On stage in an explosion of body parts.” There is no more appropriate death for a guy who’s barely being held together than to explode like a crash-test dummy toy while playing a guitar really fast.

 

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A Unique Gift – Chapter 4

Sop! This post is NSFW!

 

But you can read this chapter here:

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=84

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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Another Life – Chapter 3

We took them to a movie – Dutch treat. I didn’t catch much of the film: Sam kept leaning over to whisper in my ear. “Who is that?” she’d ask. Or, “Why is he doing that?”

She had a hundred questions. Some of them were truly stupid. I think she genuinely had trouble following the plot. Or maybe she thought she had missed something important.

But it didn’t escape my notice that every time she had a question, she leaned over, rested her hand on my arm, and put her lips next to my ear. Once I even felt the pressure of her boob on my shoulder. Sam wasn’t skinny everywhere. Tanya kept shushing her. Sam tried to justify herself. I had to promise to explain the movie to her afterwards.

We went for ice cream (Marty’s idea). I kept my word, and summarized the film’s plot for Sam. It turned out that she really did think that she had missed a key scene, near the beginning. After that, she felt like she was struggling to catch up. Tanya rolled her eyes so energetically, I was afraid she was going to hurt herself.

I wasn’t sure that I believed Sam – not entirely. But while I was explaining the movie, I discovered a few things. For one, if I was doing the talking, that shut off most of Sam’s inane chatter. She listened attentively, with a big smile, her eyes never leaving my face.

It’s flattering, for an 18-year old guy, to have a girl focus on him like that – no matter how dumb she might be.

Besides, I had no problem looking at Sam. When she wasn’t saying something stupid, she was actually quite pretty: long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a cute face. In fact, if she wasn’t talking or giggling, Sam was downright attractive.

She had narrow hips, and not much of an ass, but she was far from flat-chested. Then she giggled, and put her hand on mine. “You’re so smart!” she said.

It was like throwing a bucket of water on me. I immediately remembered where I was, and who I was with. I wasn’t immune to flattery, but …

– “I think she likes you.” said Marty, after we had dropped them off.

– “Great deduction, Sherlock.” I said, with a snort. “Lucky me.”

– “Come on, Joe – it’s not so bad, is it?”

It wasn’t. That’s why I agreed to go a party with Marty and the two older sisters a few weeks later. Tanya was there when we picked them up, and from the expression on her face, she wasn’t too happy to be excluded.

– “Don’t be late!” she said.

Marty drove. I picked up a case of beer. Caroline sat quietly; she didn’t say much at the best of times. Her older sister made up for it, with a non-stop flow of questions: who was hosting, would they know anyone there, could she have a beer – or two …?

The host was a friend of Marty’s, a guy from our high school named Jim. He had a cute sister, who had been a grade behind us. But if I had had any plans to check her out, those were immediately torpedoed.

Sam attached herself to me like a barnacle. She kept one hand on my arm at all times, as if she was afraid to lose contact. I couldn’t entirely blame her: she didn’t know a soul at the party. It didn’t stop her from asking questions about every single person there, though.

Did I know him? Did I know her? Had I dated her? Would I date her? Did I think she (another girl) was pretty? Could she (Sam) have another beer? Half of her questions I couldn’t even hear, because the music in Jim’s basement was on so loud. They were playing the Cars album – I’d heard it too often on the radio.

I steered Sam up the stairs, and into the backyard. It was a nice autumn night, with a clear sky. We sat down on a bench. To keep Sam from talking, I told her a long story, about how Marty and I had met, and become friends.

– “He likes Caroline.” she said, with a giggle.

– “Yeah, he does.” I agreed. “Does she like him?”

– “I dunno.” she said, with a shrug. Well, that made sense. I doubt that either of her sisters ever confided in her. Telling Sam a secret would be the equivalent of putting it on a billboard.

At that point, Jim came out into the backyard with a buddy of his. Introductions were made, and Jim said “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

– “Not at all.” I assured him. I didn’t want Sam to start chattering, so I asked Jim what he’d been up to since graduation.

– “Working with my Dad, mostly. Learning the ropes. Have to get started, if I’m going to take over the business some day.”

– “What kind of business?” asked Sam. I held my breath when she started to talk, but to my relief, it wasn’t a stupid question at all.

– “Men’s clothing.” said Jim.

– “Is it hard work?” she asked. I had to turn, and look at Sam. She worked in a major department store – in the women’s clothing department!

Jim started explaining the trials and tribulations of selling suits to ignorant customers, or cheap customers, and working with temperamental tailors.

– “And then you have to deal with the Jews …”

My eyebrows rose.

– “I’m Jewish.” I said.

Jim stopped dead. Then he started backtracking. “I was just … umm … I didn’t mean …”

I didn’t say anything. I just let him squirm. His buddy looked embarrassed. Finally Jim remembered that he needed to refresh his drink, and went inside.

– “I didn’t know you were Jewish.” said Sam.

– “I’m not.”

Jim’s buddy grinned. “Nice one.” he said. “Have to remember that.” Then he excused himself, and left us alone.

– “I don’t get it.” said Sam. “Why did you say you’re Jewish when you’re not? Was it just to make him stop? Oh … that’s it, isn’t it?”

I told Sam another story. “There was a kid in Grade 4 who got picked on, just because he was dark and had kinky hair. I didn’t stand up for him, then – but I knew I should’ve.”

“My uncle Ray lives with a woman from Guyana. Nice lady. My stepmother calls her names, makes fun of her. I call her on it. I can’t stand that shit. One more reason we don’t get along so well.”

Then I remembered something. “Sam, you work in clothing.”

– “Yeah. In a department store.”

– “Why did you ask Jim if it’s hard work? If anyone would know, you would.”

– “I know.” she said. “But … I didn’t want to start talking about my job. It’s not very important. Besides – I can tell … you don’t like it when I talk too much.”

“I know I’m not very bright.” she continued. “I say – and do – silly things. My sisters tell me, all the time.”

– “What about at work?” I asked.

– “I’m fine at work. I know what I’m doing. And if I have a problem, or a question, I can just ask Mrs. Maguire – my supervisor.”

This came as a revelation to me. Sam was … well, pretty dumb. But she knew it. In my limited experience, most stupid people have absolutely no idea just how ignorant they really are. On the contrary, many of them actually believe that they’re smart.

“I just … I guess I try too hard, sometimes.” said Sam. “I just want people to like me.”

– “I like you, Sam.” I said. At that moment, it was no more than the truth.

– “Really?”

– “Really.”

– “That’s nice.” she said, with a smile that didn’t look goofy at all. “You know, I was really impressed – what you said to that guy.”

– “Let’s get you another beer.” I suggested.

 

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