ONE FUCKING YEAR BITCHES

One year in the bag America it’s our Anniversary, ladies get in line hotties with bodies get first dibs.  One year of my tales, stupidity, sex, crime, more sex, and then my stupidity during sex followed by drunken typos.  What? I’m only giving you rough drafts on this blog and holding the good tales back for the book.  You know you wouldn’t buy books if I didn’t and thanks for buying.  Holy shit first year done, one book written rated 4.7 out of 5 on amazon thanks America, 10,433 disciples, 2742 total comments, 110 posts, 1,002 comments on my life, 76,625 total views, and the top day 965 caused by my post Accidentally on Purpose going blog viral.  As a thanks here is Accidentally on Purpose for you new guys.  When the book came out four months ago I cut off the ending and made it a teaser for my book.  What Gentleman need money to.  Ladies are expensive and worth every penny.  Also the other most popular post Sex life of America for your reading pleasure.  This was just an over sexed rant I went on one day when America yet again made me want to Jihad FOX news (Secret Service this is a sarcastic comment and I would never blow up those no talent, scare tactic, sex deprived, ass clowns on Fox news).  Seriously America get your head out of your asses and fuck the world.  Sexually and in a sense of accomplishing your dreams.  Grab the world’s hair, slap its ass and show it…The Gentleman has arrived.  There is a Gentleman in all of us.  Thanks for making it one hell of a year America.  Wear a Condom.

42. ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE
So one night, I had invited a fuck buddy to come by for a night of kinky adulterism. I thought I was cool with all forms of sex till I met this chick. First she tried to finger my ass while blowing me. Not cool ladies. I felt a finger go from fondling balls to my no-no spot. After I removed my fingernails from the ceiling and climbed down, she explained to me that she had banged every guy she had been with. And I don’t mean bang in the good way. I told her not this horse. Line one found.
During another night of sexual shenanigans, she asked me to cut her with a dinner knife. Well, as well as she could ask through a ball gag while she was tied up in the entryway. I thought that would look great; the cops come in, see me with a dinner knife, woman tied up, death by thousand cuts, and boom: head shot. Thoughts of me being gunned down wearing nothing but a condom and holding a magic wand, not to mention the sight of blood makes me light headed and completely de-rected. Line two discovered.
During one night of sexcapades, I couldn’t recall which; we were having some drinks before the roll playing began. She would come in, bringing her bag of whatever hotness she would wear that night, we would catch up, have a few drinks, she would go change in the bedroom, I would set up that night’s fun, and it was on. Well, during one of these drinking and catching up chats we had a little bit more than usual to drink. I have a bar in my apartment and I was behind it pouring champagne far too fast. We were talking, joking, having a good time, let’s face it ladies, I’m charming. I go to my fridge, get the third bottle of champagne, pull off the foil, wire, aim and fire.
Being the son of a chef and restaurant owner, I am normally one with the cork, but I try to refrain from firing one off in my apartment. You see, I’m a half-assed Buddhist and have a nice Buddha shrine in my living room. Buddha is cool with everything except being shot in the face with a cork and shattered on the floor. I call myself a half-assed Buddhist because I love Karma, but I treat my body like an amusement park not a temple; hence half-assed.
So, there I am in my kitchen, hotness at the bar, with a bottle in my hand and off goes the cork. Trying to impress her, I figure I will shoot the cork down my apartment and pour her a glass. In my haste, I didn’t aim properly and the cork hits the wall across the room. I have both my hands on the bottle when I realize that the cork has ricochet off the wall and is coming straight for my eye at the speed of sound. I wondered what the trip to the hospital would be like. Yes, Doctor, I shot myself, but in my emotional throws, my suicide was foiled because instead of a gun I used a bottle of bubbly. How many times have I laughed at the warning labels on champagne bottles and the funny pictures of cartoons hitting themselves with a cork? Is it possible to have sex with a cork in my eye? I figured she would be a little turned off.
There I was, the “Master” trying to pour a glass of champagne for the “Slave” and the dip shit “Master” is going to blind himself with a cork. Premature corkulation. Why couldn’t my parents have said, “Be careful with the bottle of champagne, you’ll shoot your eye out?” I was great with the BB gun. The cork is getting closer to my face and now she is realizing that I’m about to be Kennidied. Forget the magic bullet, look at this fucking cork. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her cover her mouth getting ready to laugh, scream, sympathize, however this turns out.
Suddenly, I realize that time has stopped. I look at my dog and notice a drop of drool floating in the air below him frozen in time. A humming bird was flying outside the window and its wings were still. All these thoughts and sights overwhelmed me, yet I couldn’t react to the damn cork about to head shot me. Frozen in time, unable to move, I awaited my inevitable corky fate. Time began again and the cork closed in on its target. I braced for the impact of my masochistic bottle opening, when out of the corner of my eye I see a hand. Moving faster than a fat kid running down an ice cream truck, this hand rises to protect my face. I realize it’s my hand moving and I’m drunker than I thought. I have somehow caught the cork. Staring at my hand, like a kid who just caught his first fly ball, completely amazed by my subconscious drunken reflexes, I turn to her. She is sitting on the bar stool staring at me as if I have just cured cancer, while climbing Everest to save her from the abominable snowman. Wet. She couldn’t believe it. Had I done this on purpose or accident, she thought to herself. Is my “Master” really this good? Not sure what to do, I came to a conclusion. I handed her the cork with all my misplaced bravado and simply said. “You like my new trick?” And it was on.
I still try to catch the cork again when no one is around… I’m never even close.

SEX LIFE OF AMERICA

Well America you have done it again.  You have made me sad to be an American.  Am I the last person in this country who honestly enjoys sex?  I don’t bang for my relationships.  I don’t bang because its been a week and we need to once a week.  I don’t bang because its my birthday and she is letting me get some.  I bang because I fucking love it.  When ever I can where ever.  Three, five, seven times a day if we both have the day off.  I love the feel, the sweat, the screams, the look in her eyes when she says thank you after every cum, the sound of the hand cuffs clattering, all that great shit.  I fucking love fucking.  Seriously, aside from sailing which can and should be done during sex, what the hell else would you rather do?  Nothing.  Really I never have and never will get it.  I’d be banging right now but my buddy is out of town.

Sex is the most fun you can have without laughing and you know what good sex involves laughing once in a while.  When she cums so hard she head butts you and breaks your nose.  Laugh.  When your banging her in the sex swing and the lube you spilled on the floor makes you slip and fall on your ass wearing only a condom and shameful grin.  Laugh.  When your both lying next to each other covered in sweat, consumed by the wonderful tingling feeling you get after great sex.  Laugh.  Sex is fun and you will make mistakes so laugh at yourself and get back in there if you know what I mean.  You will pull off the condom to fast with a couple pubs.  You will have to stop because the lube bottle slipped out of your hands and rolls under the bed.  You will break furniture of all kinds.  You will be caught.  Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.  You know what you do laugh and bang some more.  No shame I have done all these countless times and told all 6,500 of you.  Read my stories.  The broken nose was a bitch.  Its still a little crooked.

When did sex become such a taboo topic America?  We all were born with equipment for it, we all know it feels really really really really really really fucking good, and shit America its a great workout and many of you could use one.  So put on a condom grab the woman next to you (go gay guys to I guess) and bang her/him where ever you are reading this.  In the living room?  Bang.  Bedroom?  Bang.  If she is in the kitchen cooking get in there turn off the stove and bend her over the counter.  On a plane?  Get that mile high club.  But stop planning, scheduling, accounting, rationalizing, registering and calculating sex.  We are all eating, shitting, fucking animals.  And anyone who says they aren’t is a eunuch.

So why have I gone on this rant today well here is “Breaking News” on CNN.  All the shit going on in the world Americans want to hear about a couple who had sex every day for a year.  This is pathetic.  I have done this by accident for at least three years of my now 28 (birthday a week ago :( I’m old) life.  What do people do in college?  Study?  Any way here it is

http://www.cnn.com/video/data/2.0/video/showbiz/2013/09/05/sbt-couple-sex-year.hln.html

Now get out there and please your woman America.  Bang the crap out of her.  Give God a high five and bring down some wrath on the fine asses he made.  Wear condoms.

Well America its been a wonderful year.  Thanks for reading, commenting, helping me make my first FB page, (all of you are way to dependent on technology the world got along just fine without a computer chip up your ass.  All of my tales occurred without the aid of FB, now ignore the hypocrisy of that comment since I’m a good little FB whore now to move books… Be sure to check out my fireside chat on FB on Saturday at 6 est https://playingyourhandright.wordpress.com/2014/02/03/fireside-chat/ I’m a dirty Gentleman FB whore) buying my first book Playing Your Hand Right: Showing America How To Live, and giving me hope that this mad dash to become a writer before completely bankrupting myself might just work.

Long Live the Writers who buy my book. Link below. Kindle and paper back copies available

Taylor Oceans

http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Your-Hand-Right-Showing/dp/1484829794/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1391549558&sr=8-1&keywords=playing+your+hand+right+showing+america+how+to+live

17 thoughts on “ONE FUCKING YEAR BITCHES

  1. I am new to the blogging world, but damn! You’re hilarious! I’ll definitely add your book to my list of things to read. Thanks for my morning giggles 🙂

  2. You had me at “one fucking year bitches.” It was very in your face…and then I read the post. Hilarious. Happy Anniversary.

  3. Due to my occasional dyslexia I read the title as “Playing Your Right Hand”. I think either title works.

    Love it!!! I’ll buy your book. Put a link on the right side so we can find it quickly. Keep it up!

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