And it not necessarily in that order either. but i do feel a great confidence in my assessment of my finely tuned skills in these three avenues of excellence. so when the topic of relations during *that time of the month* came up the other day with a group of friends, i found i was the only willing participant. like German forces in 1941 - i'm the only one of my friends willing to invade Red Red Russia during the cold war.

I don't know why guys are so afraid of doing their deed while their meat sheath is getting her monthly visit from good ol' aunt flow. it's just a little blood, nothing major, playa, clean up afterwards. besides, once your lady gets over the gross-out factor, you're going to find she's a little extra horny when she's surfing the Red Sea Pipeline. Nah nah nah, it's not kinky, it's just hormonal. she doesn't have any sick count Dracula fantasy about your dumbass, it's just chemical reactions n shit.

However, if you're going to play in the mud, I suggest you set some ground rules. Mine are pretty simple.
1. No V8 near my face. If it gets on my hands, cock, balls, legs, whatever, but not in/around/near my nose or mouth. Sorry ladies, that's the brakes. That's not to say I won't still give the oral luvin'. I don't mind going down as long as the pipeline has adequate obstruction. I never spend too much time threading the needle anyway - i always prefer to concentrate on the funny little bald guy in the front of the canoe.

2. My bed? Better put a towel down. One of the few things i'm anal about are fabrics that touch my body regularly. I spend a lot of money on sheets, so they have to last a while, no menstrual stains on my expensive ass sheets, sorry bitch.

3. The cleanup. Afterwards - i'm heading to the bathroom, where i may or may not take a full shower. Sometimes cleanup is quick whereas other times i really want to wash everything away. Don't be offended. It's just the way it is. Feel free to join me in the shower for round 2 if you're so inclined.

Now, this third and final rule has been broken on occasion, and I must say, last night was one of those nights. We started things by visiting with our good friends Bob and Mary Jane. After a few rounds of "Pass the Bong, kissyface" i was ready to go upstairs and break my dick off in my lady friend. Much to her chagrin, The River Runs Through It, but i told her, as i have before, i could care less. Upstairs, olympian sexcapades ensue, and i ultimately pass out of pleasing both her and my most primal of urges. I was so fucked up I just came, put some shorts on, rolled over, and went to sleep, throwing rule three right out the second story window (or was that her thong?).

This morning I woke up groggy and sick. Hung over from drinking 1/3 of the night. Still stoned from smoking another 1/3 of my night away, and sore from fucking the other 1/3. I headed straight to the shitter, as it's my usual first stop after a raucous night. I didn't even turn on the light before dropping my drawers to the floor and my ass to the porcelain. As i sat there contemplating whether i should call in sick to my shitfuck job i started staring at my right hand. i had this barbecue sauce looking conglomeration of orangey/brownish/darkred/ paste dried on my index and middle fingers. Still barely knowing where i was, much less the activities of the night before I found myself wondering if i hade eaten ribs the night before, and almost began to lick the souvenir covered fingers clean before it hit me. Whoa, that was a close one.

I don't know what my hang up is. I'm not quite so sure why the bloody bloody goo-goo makes me want to ralph, but that's my deal. I finished my bathroom session, cleaned up from my finger tips to my elbows before satisfied and returned to bed for another 30 minutes of tag-you're-it with mr. snoozey-snooze button of ye olde alarm clock. what a night.