Tag Archives: Relationships

Choke Her in Public

With all that 50 Shades hype it’s becoming less and less of a secret about women’s desires to be dominated, and to be with a dominant man. Of course many still don’t want to admit this, but we all know it. One of the most enjoyable parts of knowing this is pushing its boundaries.

When we’ve been with someone for awhile we start showing signs of dominance publicly without even thinking about it. A little slap on the ass here and there would be the most common. Anything really that hints at your latent ability to physically bend her to your will. Usually these actions take a very politically correct route, but since when is that much fun?

You know she likes the slap on the ass in public, and you know she likes to be choked in bed until just after that point where a little panic sets in. So why not combine the two a little? The best way is not overtly. Some non aggressive contact beforehand is ideal, like foreplay. A great opportunity to make your move is if there is some playful teasing or banter. Your first couple responses will be the usual witty material, but then slip in the choke with one. Not anything extreme, just a quick couple second squeeze.

There isn’t an exact time frame for when in a relationship to use this move, but you should be able to gauge it by how far it’s going behind closed doors. However, that’s not universal; sometimes the public choke is just what’s needed to push things along. It’s just a bigger gamble. Something a little more subtle, but can be very effective is pulling her hair in public. Best scenario would be if you are going to kiss her anywhere publicly have your hand on the back of her neck, then as you go in slide your hand into her hair and twist, so that you don’t actually have to pull away to give her a good tug.

The key is to use these tools wisely and sparingly. Keep her guessing, and then drop it in when she doesn’t expect it. Or if you feel she has been misbehaving a little, but not enough for some PDA (public display of anger).

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The Bastard Chronicles: Genesis

Previous Installment

The beginning is always a good place to start right? I don’t know that I will consistently stay chronological in writing about this, but some back story is called for. I’ll start by saying I didn’t consider myself in the game when this all began. I liked to say I kept one foot in, but mostly sat on the bench and coached the starters. Call it the mentality of a caged wolf.

Perhaps that’s something worth discussing briefly as well, or maybe even more later. Being a married man you end up being around a lot of other married men, just how it happens. Separate into your own herd, right? Or so we’re told it should be. The problem is herds are for sheep and not all men are so. Not even the married ones. Actually upon thinking about this a little, I will definitely be writing out some thoughts about it.

Back on track. On the bench, and all that. Well what could be seen as a problem with that mentality is that even if you’re on the bench you still are always thinking about the game. It’s not necessarily bad for a marriage; it keeps a man aware of attraction and I think much of what Athol talks about could apply if you’re only talking theoretical up until the point that the marriage is truly over.

I may have only been dimly or subconsciously aware of the line I was crossing. No, shit, fuck that. I fully fucking knew what I was doing. Not the full force of what the small decisions I was making would lead to, but I saw her, I knew what I wanted, and I put myself in a better position to have it. Naturally I added her on Facebook.

Let me just say now that this was before I knew “game principles” as taught around the ‘sphere. I acted strategically as seemed best at any given time, and generally this always worked for me. However any sort of strategy I may have thought to use in this situation went clearly out the window as we became more wrapped up in each other.

Marriages naturally have their ups and downs. Some of the downs last a long time, and no matter what you do, how good of a captain you are, some things you truly have no control over. The emotional disconnect that can occur in those long marital depressions can easily be underestimated. As a married man (especially when still on the blue pill) you expect that connection to be a part of your life. My thirst for it was immense, but completely unknown to me until this point in my life.

After finding out her full name through somewhat dubious means (a bit stalker-ish, but legit), saying fuck it, and clicking that add friend button on Facebook I waited to see how my first gamble would pay off. The next day I received two notifications: one that she had accepted my request, and two a message from her. Progress already I thought. Except that message was a warning that she nearly ignored my request, but was going against her better judgement and accepting it. Narrow victory, but victory nonetheless. Fortune favors the bold, right?

Boldness I had, but now it was time to indulge the stalker in me. Time to browse the photos of course. It wasn’t long until I stumbled onto one that changed it all for me. A switch flipped in my brain that brought the desire to fuck her directly to the forefront. This wasn’t your typical look-at-me Facebook snapshot you’ve seen a thousand times, yet it wasn’t really inappropriate either. Obviously I can’t show you all, so you’ll have to let your imaginations do some work for you.

It wasn’t too long until we were talking. A lot. A hell of a fucking lot. It was the beginning of summer, and our conversations punctuate every memory of it. It would be easy to say we hadn’t done anything yet, but of course we had. The emotional infidelity came hard and fast, and we both knew the road we were running down. It’s truly your classic example. The talking, the finding ways to briefly see each other, the careful avoidance of actually touching one another. The buildup was intoxicating.

We hastened down this path, and knowing this I began to strategize how I would push things to a more physical level. Logistics are always important in the game, but when we’re talking affairs they are not only incredibly important, but also incredibly difficult. While I’m pondering this one morning I receive a message from her asking me to meet her out somewhere. A quick excuse and I’m out the door.

The tension was immediately apparent, and I knew this was another turning point. Whatever she had to tell me had to be significant, but I could never have predicted what this conversation held for me.

Next Installment

The Bastard Chronicles

I tend to think my perspective here is a relatively unique one. Yes, yes everyone thinks they’re a “special snowflake”. But no really, I haven’t read anything yet coming from the quite the same place as myself. I have talked about having kids and being a father, but what I haven’t disclosed is one of my children is a bastard. Not the usual way these days either; we are married, just not to each other.

I know I’m not the only one, but I’m certain I’m one of very few who will be talking about it like this. See, I feel there’s a lot to learn here. A lot that can be shared with my fellow man. And I don’t just mean sage advice such as “don’t do it” because that’s not what I’m going to tell you.

Infidelity is always going to be a hot topic, and it’s something that plays a part in almost everyone’s life at some point. I know my own is going to have far reaching implications that I can’t even begin to foresee yet. If your everyday actions have a ripple effect on other peoples’ lives, then something like this is the wake behind a cargo ship.

It’s something I’ve personally learned a great deal from. About life, about women, but mostly about myself. Causing pain to nearly everyone you care for can really make you look at yourself and the relationships you maintain. Many of the women in my life would like to believe what I learned in that introspection is a lesson in controlling my bad behavior. The hypocrites tried to make me a surrogate for their own shame.

It was something I bought into for a time, letting myself feel exactly as horrible as many around me expected and desired me to be; any slight display of happiness extinguished with extreme prejudice. I can only be thankful for their vicious deconstruction of me, because it presents a rare opportunity.

Picking up the pieces and rebuilding myself stronger makes them hate me even more, but now I revel in it. When I’m not around they love to hate me, and when I am around they hate that they love me. It’s a fantastic lesson in preselection and just how powerful dominant masculine frame is when coupled with charisma.

As much as I’ve learned there’s much more still. I walk a line somewhere between Athol and Roissy, with any and all advice needing a slightly different interpretation for my purposes. This journey is young and the road is long.

Next Installment

Everyone is Available

It’s not uncommon to hear “everyone has their price”, but it’s more common to hear any random individual’s list off things they would never do. It doesn’t take a lot of observation of human behavior to discover that list is mostly self-comforting bullshit.

If everyone has their price, isn’t it better to know what your price is? Any one person’s values they claim to hold are entirely dependent upon the situation in which they are being applied. That’s why a pacifist is a dumbfuck. “I would never take a human life.” No, fuck that, the right answer is: “I would never take another human life unless dot dot dot” Anything less than that and a person is lying to themselves.

Of course that’s just one obvious example. More enjoyable are the implied lies we see all time in interpersonal relationships. Most are expected like the lazy fat fuck complaining about co-workers not pulling their weight. Or the mother judging any and every other parent not in earshot while she sends her kids off to mom and dad’s every weekend (plus Tuesdays) so she can author the next issue of Pump & Dumped Weekly. My favorite, however, are the gossip whores raining fire and brimstone down upon known or suspected cheaters.

I work in a building with a lot of people in it at any given time, and being pretty social I know and talk to many of them. I can’t name but a small handful of people that are really truly single. Everyone is attached somehow, so almost any new relationship started is at the expense of the current one. Or not. Maybe keep a couple going at the same time. That’s cool too. The point is, depending on your point of view almost anyone could be painted by the broad cheating brush.

Most relationship origin stories I hear start with something like: “Well, I was kinda sorta seeing so-and-so when we met.” That so-and-so was boy/girlfriend of two and half years. They had a dog and an apartment together. Female listeners at the story’s conclusion will say something like: “Wow, what an amazing story, you’re so lucky you finally found who you’re supposed to be with!” Male listeners if the storyteller is female will nod and secretly start plotting.

I see nothing wrong with the above scenario. Human nature. That’s just life, but it’s undeniably cheating. Once past the short statute of limitations and given the proper fairy tale frame it’s completely socially acceptable. What’s not acceptable is anything other than serial “monogamy” (contradictory when there’s overlap) and nice guys patiently waiting for women to step off the carousel.

So back to those gossip whores. I love it because I know the truth. I know what they’ve done. Maybe not always specifically, but when I look in their eyes and for that brief moment they falter, I know.

The First Time I Cheated

Alright, time to get personal with a tale from my past. NSFW perhaps, depending on how closely someone is reading over your shoulder.

It was the summer before my senior year of high school and I had been dating my girlfriend for about a year and a half. Yeah, I was that guy with the long term girlfriend in high school. Spent a year thankful just to be getting pussy at all. As I’m sure you all know that feeling only lasts so long.

The relationship was of the semi-long distance variety. She lived a town away and we mostly saw each other on the weekends. There were pros and cons, but for the most part that old saying rang true: distance makes the heart grow fonder. And hornier. As intense as those weekends could be, a young man can’t help but wonder what he can get away with in that time in between. I soon found out that it was quite a lot.

Being somewhat shy, possessing little self confidence, and no game (oblivious to that really), but industrious nonetheless I turned, of course, to the Internet. I don’t remember how long it to took me to find it, most Internet excursions quickly turned into looking at porn and vigorous masturbation, so productivity was low. But eventually I stumbled upon a certain site at which adults can find friends.

The problem with this you would think is that I wasn’t yet an adult. Minor hiccup for the determined deviant, just select one more year down on that drop down box and I was good to go. As soon as I signed up I knew I had found something special. It was like being eight in Toys R Us, looking at all shiny toys that you could possibly want, but couldn’t possibly afford.

Here’s my first real bold move: in the dark of night with the rest of the family soundly sleeping I stealthily started breaking laws. I stole my mother’s credit card, copied the info just as quick as could be, and slipped it back with no one the wiser. The fact that my parents remained none the wiser perhaps says something about their fiscal diligence.

Now, stolen credit card info in hand, my hand shook slightly as I entered it all and clicked “Submit”, unlocking the gates to unlimited casual sex with all the women I could possibly want. Only it wasn’t quite like that. There were women, some even attractive, but mostly it was a big cockfest. It served to truly shatter the idealism of a young man in regards to finding strange on the Internet.

Of course a few hundred pics of cocks randomly appearing on my big CRT monitor wasn’t enough to dissuade. Neither was the lack of responses from what I hoped were real females; I was determined. The real problem was that of all the women on there that actually were looking for quick cock, few were looking for “18 year old” cock. But I kept casting my line and eventually I got a bite.

My heart was pounding as I read her message that contained her Yahoo Messenger info. The elapsed time of her sending that message and me sending her one back in Yahoo was probably somewhere around 2.42 seconds, give or take a millisecond. I may have come off as slightly eager.

She was 23, experienced, and… married. I expressed to her how this (ironically) clashed with my morality, trying for some reason to come off as the valiant type. She assured me that he knew she did this and was completely on board and okay with it. He just thought of sport fucking young cocks as a harmless hobby. Sounded completely logical. After maybe fifteen minutes of anxious conversation she asked if I wanted to meet, just to see if we click at all.

“Byemomheadedtothegasstationbebackinabit,” I yelled as I ran out the door. I did walk to the gas station. The time was probably around 2:30 or so in the afternoon when her Jeep Cherokee swung into parking lot. I looked around nervously like I had an FBI tail or the mob after me as I got in and we took off. The small talk in the Jeep was excruciatingly awkward, but when I found out the drive to her place was only about seven minutes I would have given anything for it to be just ten minutes longer. I followed her in, thinking I must have lost my mind.

Once inside she had her prey trapped, and she didn’t waste time taking me down. Well, actually she went down. I immediately knew she was special at that moment. As I stood there in her living room appreciating that quality, I also began appreciating the giant broadsword on the wall, and the guns on the other wall, and the ammo on the table. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling as good. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing with that shit,” she assured me.

Somehow we ended up in her bedroom. To this day I don’t remember walking back there, but there we were. Room was a mess, and no sheets on the bed. I threw her on it anyway. Condom? What are those? My mind was no longer in control and everything was instinct. As I railed her against the mattress my unused mind actually began to wander. She’s so so wet, I thought to myself, thankful because it was helping me last so long. I felt like a porn star.

That feeling dissipated somewhat when after blowing my young unprotected load I stood up to see a filthy puddle of fresh blood more than a foot in diameter staining the mattress. I laughed, I didn’t care, felt like I had really slain that snatch.

Of course her reaction was a bit different. Her panic was immediate and intense. Perhaps her husband wasn’t quite on board with her activities? I never found out what happened with that mattress.

Not that I stopped fucking her. I began sneaking out mosts nights after everyone was asleep. She would pick me up at the end of the drive and into the night we’d go, parking random desolate places where I received a more practical sexual education. The first time she swallowed a load she said it was like a “warm Thanksgiving turkey dinner in her belly.”

I never did tell her my real age. See, it can happen to them too! After a few weeks my girlfriend decided to move to my town, and there the fun ends. For awhile, at least…