VisionGhost Goes to the Cinema

So last night my better half Pixie and I descended upon Cineworld in Dublin to go see this much hyped and seemingly positively reviewed movie “The Conjuring.” 

However, upon arriving I went to the machine that dispenses my pre-booked tickets, the idea being I get to avoid the queue, a pet hate of mine at the best of times; much to my utmost expectations the bloody machine didn’t work, despite having bought the tickets, online, the night before and being told all I needed was the booking credit card then hey presto the machine tells me (on screen text not voices in my head) that the card cannot be read and so off to the queue I grudgingly go.

Small mercy the queue was actually moving at a consistent pace while I suffocate under the intensive breathe of congested humanoid existentialism that is the formation of said queue I find myself at a server’s desk whom greets me with a fraudulent beaming customer service type smile adjacent to daisy the cow style false eye lashes, rainbow dyed hair with half a bucket of bleach and makeup from the bottom of the creosote tin her Dad threw away after painting the spider infested garden shed, I wondered if she had ever accused her boyfriend of being disingenuous.

Low and behold her computer couldn’t find my booked tickets either reliably informing me that the only data available was tickets I booked back in October, (No I don’t come here often), so thus I conclude the only thing I require now is a time machine and spontaneous memory loss in the seeking of Friday night entertainment; so it wrapped up with truly going back in time when the good lady consulted her manager, cue intervention by what looked like Hagrid’s wife, the tickets were, **drum roll** written out by hand, well fuck me is the pen mightier than the sword this very evening. 

And so thus we ascended up the lifts to buy snacks, neither Pixie nor I are popcorn addicts but I do divulge into the product of mechanically removed knuckle, genitals, soft tissue and cartilage of dead things that is the humble Hot Dog. So Pixie settled for a bag of Maltesers, those masquerading biscuit flavoured goat turds, the malt part I can taste the tease part I am still working on that part.  Three ketchup containers later I finally find one that isn’t empty and apply chosen condiment to the factory regurgitated edible dead thing.

Got to screen 11 and the display outside, digital of course, yes leprechaun land does have data display, instructs customers await in the foyer, so proceeded to a seating area and consumed the product and probable cause of my prostate cancer for when I hit 60. Soon enough we were into screen 11, ascended the stairs two steps at a time as I am man who refuses to wear skinny jeans and to the back Pixie and I go forth, for me to now vocally poke fun at every other unsuspecting patron that make the back seats look like a movie buffs commodity, the outer edges for teenager lovers who  spend the entire movie with one hand on their smart phones & the other down the knickers of the partner they came with and the centre aisle look like the Gaza strip which always seem to be preceded with a cautious debate of where the most appropriate seats are as to belong to their respective derrières shall commit to be seated. 

So thus I escape momentarily as a call of nature on line one is persisting sooner than expected, must be my age or else the prostate cancer has already started, and to the jacks by the grace of god go I to the temple of male urine stink and luckily enough for once, the hand dryer is working, there is no queue and the toilets also have been signed as to the declaration of utmost cleanliness sworn by pen of the signature applied by acne inflicted work experience student that the holy temple of male urine stink is hereby cleansed this day, trust me it wasn’t.

Returning to my seat, two steps at a time Pixie’s mobile goes off and outside she travels only to have the three seats next to her, that were reassuringly still free now become occupied by the Neanderthal couple fulfilling the legend of the missing link greet their arrival with himself enquiring,

“Is dat your bird’s seat?” Or so I could translate of the mostly indecipherable grunt, perhaps a cave painting would suffice for this communicatively challenged individual,

“No good sir, that is my girlfriend’s seat, the parrot is at home in its cage!” Is the pondered repatriation of his unfortunate inquisitiveness however I felt metaphors would be somewhat lost on this most intellectually deprived humanoid so much so I just simply replied.

“Yes”

 Pixie returns, sees them, sits down and looks at me as to enquire as to the origin of our newest barely house trained guests; I felt it more accurate and speak the truth which would have been, “Government test tube in genetic ape to human splicing experiment unfortunately gone wrong and thus released unto the world”

However, the yappy snappy fire breathing Cocker Spaniel of his girlfriend seemed to be somewhat within earshot and this is for an easy life so remained silent.

Three young teenage girls sit just in front to the left hand side, luckily I’ve got the aisle in front of my seat so stretching of legs isn’t a problem, yet as with all teenagers their custom duty to update their facebook profiles every 30 seconds is a call of honour to which life and reputation depends on it so I am consistently distracted by glowing smart phones; smart phones stupid people?

So the lights dim, the first of many advertisements begin, several late comers arrive again to stand on the steps, debate the gaza strip and piss off the already seated persons by the irritating and repetitive whispered...

“Excuse me, so sorry, excuse me please, awfully sorry, excuse me.” As said late comers navigate over toes, bags and already dropped popcorn until finding adequate spacing for their shapely derrières.

The adverts end, there is a public service announcement of information pertaining to cinema etiquette which involves a polite request to turn your mobile off, which the teenagers in the row to the left refuse to do cos their just so well ‘ard and rebel and now the movie begins.

As the cinema quietens down the cave dwellers to the left proceed to dig out their packets of sweets; you know the sound, that audible nightmare of the fellow audience member’s right hand seemingly going into a spontaneous epileptic fit every time they reach inside to pull out a crisp, a biscuit flavoured goat turd or the such like to the extent I was to beginning to believe that momentary Parkinson’s Disease was benign only to crisp and multi-mix sweet picketers.

If this was bad enough, anytime text appeared on the screen the Spaniel was reading it out loud for her lobotomised boyfriend; yes, he was actually illiterate as well.

Then the unthinkable happens, you guessed it, a smartly dressed, suited banker and his blonde piece turn up and expect Pixie and I move over so he can sit next to his blowjob of the evening.

Which results in, remember the geography? Yep, we’re even closer to the Government laboratory born primate escapee and his Cocker Spaniel girlfriend. It was then I noticed the whiff coming from the aforementioned primate; that kind of, I’ve been sleeping in the same bed sheets for six months kinda whiff.        

Again more late comers arrive, again they stand in the aisle utterly dumfounded by the complexity of having founded a newly equipped skill of observation and decision making, the type of skill I surely will not be endorsing you for if it appeared on your Linkedin profile; but after much profound bewilderment located their space upon the Gaza Strip and journeyed to their chosen location,

“Excuse me, so sorry, excuse me please, awfully sorry, excuse me.” 

Most of the way through the movie you now have the picture that had thus befallen upon me, the cave dwellers Spaniel couldn’t stop screaming at every jumpy scene, the teenagers Facebook profiles knew of their every pinnacle emotion, thought, opinion and the process to which they obtain the all of the above  every thirty seconds, the banker was whispering to his blonde piece - possibly having now lost the power of true speech through countless hours of begging; mid way through involuntary wee-wee’s ensued from the Gaza Strip and the movie was about as exciting as train spotting and to cap it all, back to the monkey human hybrid, I came to the realisation that they were, how can I put this? Up to something.

The movie being typical of the demonic possession ghost story that starts off well enough with subdued plot, all sinister and foreboding yet arrives upon its conclusion utterly OTT, melodramatic, predictable and having completely lost the plot.      

The movie ended, the lights came up and to the left I look to evidence of the ‘what has been seen cannot be unseen’ the chimpman was struggling to pull up his trousers, yes my friends, this actually was happening. I tutted my disapproval which was replied by the Cocker Spaniel,

“Tut, yourself!” So she said. I thought to myself of the situation of her being the only female of the specie left on Earth, I would probably kill myself, left alone tut myself.

Pixie and I arose to leave and I headed back to the holy temple of urine stink to relieve the 2^nd call of nature on line one readily about to leave a voicemail down my leg; once relieved it was back out onto Dublin Friday night streets where further intoxicated Government experiments were doing the Tarzan thing on every street corner and the shouts of abuse I endure as I was wearing a t-shirt with a peace sign on it, something that at this stage was symbolic of wishful thinking.

To home I arrive and finally to bed with the tinnitus abundant in my ears and thoughts of genocide matching it; wasn’t a bad evening I guess overall, I wonder if banker boy got his blowjob?  

Thank you for reading! 

 

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Rape

Rape

Trigger Warning…

“The following blog is inclusive of details that some may find disturbing or accentuating to a potential trigger, please be aware I mean no offense toward any persons living or dead. The blog post below contains graphic details of a hypothetic account of rape. Should the subject matter have affected you personally in some way, my heart goes out to you.”

Rape, yes that word, that awful, nightmare of a word, maybe we should say it together, “Rape” did you? Let’s try again after me… 1, 2, 3, “Rape” Good. How did that feel?

It was sometime last year I think it was when the Republicans in the USA made it quite clear their idiotic and disgusting stance on rape, if I may quote…

1. Todd Akin: “If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways of shutting that whole thing down” - mid 2012 Senate Campaign

2. Clayton Williams: “If it’s inevitable, just relax and enjoy it” - mid 1990 Gubernatorial race in Texas

3.  Chuck Winder: “I would hope that when a woman goes in to a physician with a rape issue, that physician will indeed ask her about perhaps her marriage, was this pregnancy caused by normal relations in a marriage or was it truly caused by a rape. I assume that’s part of the counselling that goes on.” - March 2012

4.  Ken Buck: “A jury could very well conclude that this is a case of buyer’s remorse … It appears to me … you invited him over… the appearance is of consent.” - October 2010

5. Rick Santorum: “I think the right approach is to accept this horribly created — in the sense of rape — but nevertheless a gift in a very broken way, the gift of human life, and accept what God has given to you… rape victims should make the best of a bad situation.” - January, 2012

As well as this, there is this frequent situation of person(s) whom seem to think it is acceptable to utilise the subject of rape as though it were a point of comedy, as well as laws and politicians whom seem to dance around the subject without getting to the core of the matter. The core of the matter simply is this; no one seems to understand, apart from the unfortunate victims, of what exactly rape is, so that being said, I will describe in great detail, exactly what rape is…

Wikipedia states…

Rape is a type of sexual assault usually involving sexual intercourse, which is initiated by one or more persons against another person without that person's consent. The act may be carried out by physical force, coercion, abuse of authority or with a person who is incapable of valid consent, such as one who is unconscious, incapacitated, or below the legal age of consent. The term is most often defined in criminal law.

Here’s what it really is…

The scenario is this, you’re a young woman, size 8-10 approximately, 5 foot 5 inches tall, you weigh approximately 9 – 10 stone, you know of no martial arts or any form of self-defence and you’ve been out with friends at a party, a tad intoxicated you’re walking home late at night and you’re alone.  As you walk down the street you come past a park with hedge rows and ears still ringing from the music in your party dress you feel like you’ve had a good time. In your hand you’re in the middle of texting a friend when, wham, a hand clasps over your mouth and you’re being dragged backwards into the park, you try to scream, arms and legs flaying, can’t see who has got hold of you, mobile phone goes flying. You try to resist but this attackers grip is like a vice around your much smaller frame, in this unlit park at this ungodly hour in the pitch black you find yourself thrown to the floor knocking the wind out of you.

You try to scream but the attacker punches you so hard in the face you feel a tooth crack and the taste of blood well’s up inside your mouth. The attacker slaps you in the face with a commanding,

“Shut up you fucking bitch!” In a frightening male voice, your confused, scared to death, everything is spinning, can’t focus when you feel your underwear being violently torn off, now your exposed, you go to scream again but the attacker muffles your voice with his hand, this attacker is then unzipping his fly as you try to struggle to get away until another heavy blow lands in your abdominal region completely knocking the air of you again as your heart continues to pound so hard and fast your feeling dizzy, can’t get away.

You start to cry but this monster in the dark seems to be without heart or soul, as he forces his waist up between your thighs and you feel the agonising burn of unsolicited penetration as his erect penis rips into you, probably tearing your labia in the same instance, you feel the warmth of his panting breath on your face as he proceeds to thrust and pound into your body, each thrust escalating in the agony of the moment and the agony of your body, his hand grips your throat to the point of choking as he quickens up deepening his penetration while your struggle and writhe beneath what feels like a gorilla who has utterly no thought to your suffering, completely impervious to right and wrong, but that is neither here nor there as you cry and try to scream for help but nothing comes out in the confusion.

Then he stops, then he withdraws, you’re shaking, quivering, what’s going on? Then you feel your body being flipped over, in almost an instant epiphany you surmise  what’s going to happen and your worst nightmare is confirmed and he pushes mercilessly into your anus, the screaming heat, burning and the excruciating agony, as he stuffs your underwear into your mouth to gag you, it won’t stop, it won’t stop, it won’t stop, your being raped, defiled, attacked, brutalised and it won’t stop. The attacker thrusts harder, practically splitting you in half, tears rolling down your face, no one to help you, no one anyway, please make it stop, someone please make it stop, this just goes on and on, thrusts, heaving, pain, agony, it just goes on and then, then he climaxes, the explosion inside your limp and beaten frame, he lies atop of you and his breath panting past your ear, you’re in a quivering agonising state of total forced submission, terrified, confused and your entire body throbs.

Withdrawing you cry out in pain as he stands over you, “Fucking bitch” you hear that ugly voice, landing a sharp kick in the abs again, again, tearing at the air in the lungs. Disappearing into the night he is gone, but you’re not, you’re there, still there. Lying in the dirt, shaking, sobbing, cold, bleeding; it’s dark, it’s as if time has stood still, you’re still there, sobbing, crying, alone, cold. You cautiously raise your head and scan around, making sure he’s gone; a slow, shaking bruised arm extends to barely attempt to pick yourself up, as you slowly rise you wince with the pain, every inch hurts, the taste of blood in your mouth as you try to spit it out, but feel sick and nearly throw up.  You manage to stand but your bruised, in so much pain, you seem to be bleeding from everywhere; you stagger from behind the hedge row and into the street; lost, traumatised, no one around while you limp in some direction in your torn and muddy, blood stained dress, memories of the earlier part of the night utterly dissipated with the fury of what took place.  The whole world is alien now, you barely know where you are or what direction you were going in, can’t make sense of anything.

A group of girls come down the street; they take one look at you and the expression of horror is absolute, you barely manage a whisper “I’ve been raped, please help me!” And you fall to the ground in uncontrollable sobs, one of the girl’s calls on her mobile to summon an ambulance.

Yes indeed, you have just been raped.

But guess what? It doesn’t end there either, now comes the endless questions, the indignity of being examined, poking and prodding, police interviews; as if that wasn’t worse, did the attacker use protection? Do you now have an STI? Are you HIV positive?

Then the nightmares, then the feelings of how he came inside you, the worms, that stuff he put inside you and the scars you will bear for life. Forever.

Facing your family again, the sorrowful faces that greet you, the endless sleepless nights and should they catch the bastard; you’ll face him again in the cold lights of a court room as graphic details of what happened to you are shouted out to a jury. And don’t even go there when you discover you’re pregnant with the rapist’s child.

So, Todd Akin, Clayton Williams, Chuck Winder, Ken Buck and Rick Santorum, plus all the A-Holes that think this whole enigma is a laughing matter or a question of a gift from god, are you laughing now? Is it funny now?

Let’s go one step further, the abhorrent description above, guess what? It’s merely a template, imagine if you’re a child and your father does that to you, or a defenceless young boy and your parish priest does that to you? You’re another woman and there’s gang of rapists who take turns on you, over and over and over again. Just take that in for a second, in your minds, just let that drop feed into your conscience for a moment.

Rape, is never ever funny, Rape, is never ever a gift from god, Rape, is never ever excusable, Rape is never due to what a woman’s wearing, Rape, is never ever a laughing matter.

Rape is a horrific sexual assault; the worst of its kind, Rape is never ever just about the moment, it stays with its victims for the rest of their lives, constantly walking down the street in fear and paranoia forever, even after their attacker has been caught, tried and convicted, assuming they ever catch that scum at all.

How on earth is that a gift, how on earth is that funny? I think it is high time some people need to get real about what rape really is.

Thank you for reading.

VisionGhost ©

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Sex & Sexuality

Sex & Sexuality

This has been something I’ve wanted to write for a very long time but never really knew where to actually begin, as so much comes to mind, so logically I came up with the idea of the start to finish approach. This might take some time, I mean after all, who can actually remember when their pubes started growing from bald to full bush, anyone? No because one day you awoke and you suddenly required a Flymo...

For sex is something I take EXTREMELY seriously, I can’t even stand people making a joke out of sex, it’s immature and tedious in my opinion. Too many people do not grasp the greatness and wonder of the physical condition in a moment of an ultimate and absolute amalgamation.

As an Aspie I have differing views on most things simply because NT’s, herd around whatever sounds or feels good, often making a joke out of it or apply negative sentiment to something they cannot fathom or have the intellect to do so; however, I, as most Aspies do, I went the other way and wanted to look into this deeper, as a result I’ve done/seen things I regret but I’ve also enjoyed many more positive experiences and continue to do so. 

Where are we going wrong?...

Think about it, when did sex become truly liberated, in truth, it hasn’t, the “revolution” started in the late 1960’s and progressed happily throughout the 1970’s, the whole free love thing before becoming glamorous in the 80’s, utterly exploited in the 90’s and now here we are in the modern 21^st century frankly confused and disorientated; we can’t even teach it properly in schools.

For one thousand, nine hundred and sixty odd year’s, religion, church and politics had a choke hold on sex. A bare ankle would put a priest into cardiac arrest and then the police would arrest the owner of said bare ankle for “indecent exposure,” oh sure, then arrest every baby ever born naked, we are most beautiful in our skin but fashion screwed that up too, but use sex appeal to sell their attire, somewhat there is a sense of irony in that.

So now here we are, sex is projected to the eyes, dumped into the cerebral cortex and into ones right hand; but speaketh, doeth and heareth of this is still a sin. We are albeit more liberated but frankly confused. A child can access a half naked Rihanna squealing about bondage but we cannot teach a child the sentiments of sexuality in the school he/she attends.

I think the problem is, that the revolution and demand for sexual liberation is happening far too fast and is far too powerful for church or politician to control, thus we have now, not a revolution, but an all out cold war on sex.  On one hand we have parents who come from a generation of control who can now fuck to all hours but are terrified of the thought of their offspring doing the same thing; a media that exploit sex every minute of every day while church and politicians tell us it’s wrong to view it but give free licence for its broadcast while schools treat the actual weapon against this confusion, which is of course, knowledge and education, as if their handling an unstable nuclear device.

When I was in my late teens, this debate about sex education in schools was brought up on the radio, they interviewed a 14yr old boy who said and I quote...

“They teach you how to do it but they don’t teach about all the pervy stuff!”  I thought to myself, that 14yr old kid has just hit the nail on the head.  

What do schools actually teach... say this in a mocking French accent and you’ll get the picture...

“When daa penus is ewect put on da condom and insert into da vadina, wocking motioon between da partner;, dis weel cos ejaack-a-lation, widwaw penus gripping condom!”  Oh please, that isn’t sex, that’s a ridiculously clumsy way to prevent unwanted breeding. 

In education, we need to say it like it is, which is when my ten year old daughter asks me what something is, she gets an honest answer; and for those who say that’s wrong and the god fearing church lovers who say I will burn in hell, well, if my daughter becomes a teenage pregnancy statistic you’ll be saying, as well as the politician and the schools, the same thing.

In knowledge and truth there is education and direction, it’s that simple, but too many have complicated the hell out of it, as yet there still exists this paranoid stigma left over from the centuries of control; it’s practically a genetically inspired mental aptitude to do it wrong, a faulty component that refuses to be shed; time to remove it like a defective circuit from a machine desperately trying to shine into life. 

Moving on...

Like any Aspie I have my obsessions and one of them is anything erotic, I said erotic not pornographic, trust me there is a massively broad distinction between the two.  In truth I love the female form; I don’t like size zero models and I don’t like a woman who doesn’t look after herself, it’s a point of self respect I guess. But in saying that, even a larger lady can look sexy; I’ve always said; if you want to be beautiful and sexy then be nothing more than naked. 

I’ve maxed out an external hard drive with my collection of beautiful women, not for the glory of self pleasure or because I am some deluded sex maniac, but for the sheer appreciation of Mother Nature's best, even as an Atheist, Mother Nature should be revered as a deity, our world would be in greater shape if we did, however I digress! 

From head to toe women are beautiful; however, I have my preferences like any man does; I like bright eyes, no darker than hazel; I prefer ample breasts but shapely and meaningful as womanly, curves are essential, not too muscular and for god sakes I have no issue with a little bit of weight, it simply proves your human. In attire I prefer anything that accentuates curvature.  A scar means you have a story to tell, a defect proves you’re alive and Photoshop is the darkest enemy of reality.

A woman who is sexually confident with intelligence and a sense of responsibility is as alluring as a very fine wine over a luxurious meal in a top notch swanky restaurant where the celebrities nosh down perfection, however, they take it for granted, I don’t, a truly beautiful woman should be revered as a Goddess not some plaything for little boys to “get their end away” within. 

That whole, “corr, get agh loada of ‘er” thing really does nothing for me nor for the woman concerned, come on boys, try to be men, even in a world of Justin Bieber, lets at least try!

Upon the act of sex...

So now we get down to business as they say; the greatest pleasure on Earth, besides getting paid, is having sex, not the crude, cold empty fucking of porn stars or the drunken Friday evenings one night stand, but real, meaningful, sensual, arousing, full-on physical, sex. For me I wish to assassinate the toffee nosed poncy Middle English limp wristed moron who coined the phrase “Making Love!” Urgh, utter drivel of those destined to be forever virgin, I hate hate hate that term, it’s cringing, and inaccurate.

Mating, conjoining spirits, soul touching are just a few of my own terms; mating needs to always go hand in hand with the utmost of sensuality and any connection at all with your partner will do but there must be one; I always believe sex between best friends was a very beautiful and charitable affair, very giving and honest to nature, there’s nothing wrong with it.  

There is so much to consider that sex truly is rocket science and it takes real intellect to grasp even the basics.  For me, a woman’s body is an absolute nerve centre and an undiscovered country rolled into one; as sensitive as she may be so shall her partner be also so tend to the needs; now I appreciate this is sounding highly Heterosexual because that’s how I swing, however, in all these acts, be it Hetro’ or Homo’ the science and accordance is somewhat similar.

Even when undressing, hair to place behind her ear with a gentle finger, a kiss on her forehead, helps when you’re taller, but at 6 foot 1 this isn’t a problem for me personally. Compliment your partners beauty, take your time, she isn’t a Christmas present wrapped in thin paper, but a human being whose shedding her shielding. I am personally very Vanilla and feel rough sex is OK but only when the moment calls for it, so here I’ll take my time.

The naked skin of a woman is like the softness of warm sand between your toes, somewhere far away; sometimes I wish I had been born a Lesbian; there is sensuality in feminine skin as there is fruit’s in a forest.  Touch skin with fingers, lips and above all else, touch with each other, everywhere there can be a sensation of touch.

There is nothing more lovingly neutral than lying down, naked, together in the moment of caress, absolute biological equality should be allowed to tender further to feel and experience each other. 

 

Sexuality should never be thought of in utter extremes, colouring the grey in between the black and the white should be the utmost number one goal of any man or loving partner; I for one have always been more satisfied creating pleasure than receiving it; but then again, if that is so then I gain pleasure from creating it, so the equation is thus balanced out. 

Penetration...

It doesn’t matter if it is the vagina of a woman from a man’s penis or the anus of a man for his gay lover, or the lesbian fingers, strap-on and/or other penetrating instrument utilised; penetration of another’s body is absolute.  I think too many people do not understand the enormity of that situation; for me, as a man, inside a woman, means exactly that, the inside of the physical embodiment of another human being; can there be any other moment as incredible as that?

It is here that the most wonderful thing nature ever granted us in ability and practice comes into play; human sexual pleasure, the absolute binding force of the progression of the species which is for the homosapien, an absolute gift.  And that’s exactly how lovers should treat each other, like a precious gift. 

For me, my partner’s pleasure and fulfilment is the absolute goal of the whole exercise, inside a woman is the utmost practice of trust on my behalf and thus should be returned with respect and honesty.

Men listen up, when she says stop, you stop, when she says go faster, you go faster, when she says don’t stop, well, you have a mind for control, then control it and keep going.  This isn’t to assume of course that men in my view are obedient puppies; they have a part to play in this as well, by being men; I am of the old fashioned order of things and don’t believe in men wearing eye liner nor shaving their chests; men should be rugged, muscular, have hair and look like they can dig a road, work hard, earn an honest wage, carry the shopping and paint the house, when required to do so.

That same attitude applies in the bedroom, or the forest, the kitchen, the office, the beach or anywhere else; men should be hard, well erect, be meaningful and above all else make their presence felt, even when remaining gentle. If your partner wants you to be rough, aggressive and unrelenting than go for it, but always within reason and respect of rights.  

This is of course only my own personal perspective; I do not speak for all men, women and beasts and I know full well a good few who read this will be shaking their heads but many more I feel will agree to some extent. 

Remember the three R’s of great sex, Respect, Responsibility and Reality.  Once that equation has been achieved, there is a whole new world out there or right there within your partner.  

Sex is great, sex is absolutely wonderful, it is not a dirty word or something to giggle at but something to be practiced and indulged in. Education should say it like it is and always remain an open subject for discussion and debate; shying away from the inevitability of Mother Nature is dangerous and a fruitless practice.

Great sexual practice comes from just exactly that, practice!

Thank you for reading

VisionGhost©  

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