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The ancient Hindus have a well-developed literary tradition that focuses on the art and science of achieving rewarding sex. The most well known sex positions can be found in the Kama Sutra. There are several Kama Sutra positions worth recommending in the quest for sexual pleasure: the traditional woman on her back, man on top position; man on his back, woman on top position; and woman with her back to the man. Here are several uniquely named and loosely translated Kama Sutra positions to unleash your most primal desires. ‘Putting On The Sock.’ Go ahead try saying it without bursting with laughter or better yet let your imagination run wild. ‘Putting on the sock’ does not refer to the man covering his penis with a sock. Actually, it refers to a very erotic technique with the woman on her back the man sits between her legs and puts his penis at the entrance of her vagina. Slowly caressing her vagina he replaces his fingers with his penis. The continued stroking will leave her incredibly wet, wild and on the verge of an orgasm. The man brings the erotic torture to an end by thrusting into the woman giving her what she truly craves. ‘The Blacksmith’s Posture.’ In this Kama Sutra position the woman lies down and drawing her knees to her torso pushing her vagina forward creating a scintillating view. The man then begins the game of teasing her madly by inserting and withdrawing his penis. Obviously, this Kama Sutra position helps the man maintain a longer erection. Supposedly, this movement imitates the blacksmith who ‘draws the hot iron from the fire…’ The best thing is that this Kama Sutra position can lead to scorching sex. The ‘Ostrich’s Tail.' With the woman on her back, the man kneels at her feet and then raises her legs until only her head and shoulders remain on the bed or floor. After he enters her she can then put her legs around his head. Her raised legs give the impression of being spread out—like an ostrich's tail. This sensual Kama Sutra position benefits both partners by allowing them to slowing build up to an orgasm. The ‘Yawning Position.’ In this Kama Sutra position the woman on her back, raises and widely spreads her legs as the man eagerly enters her vagina. This position allows the man and woman to share the intimacy of pleasure by gazing into each others eyes. The woman can also caress her breasts adding to the visual stimulation. Of course, I would love to write that these Kama Sutra positions provide earth-shattering orgasms for everyone. The fact is these positions are truly for athletic and adventurous individuals. That's not to say that a modified version wouldn't benefit everyone, so why not give them a try. penis enlargement tool truth about penis enlargement free penile enlargment exercise penis enargement surgery cost top penis enlarement pills enargement forum free matter penis size vimax penis enlargement surgeries pennis enlargement pic
I really don’t know how to say this any other way. My dog decided to talk to me the other night and he had a lot to say. It initially played like any other night really. Once again, I was tossing and turning, in and out of sleep. I was half awake, mulling over my job situation: I want to make money writing but I need an income more. Then the most bizarre thing happened. “Hey human Bob! This is your best friend speaking! Wake up!” Who the hell was that? It was a deep, low voice; strong and certain with a hint of a bourbon induced slur. Sounded like Dean Martin actually. I immediately sat up. It was pitch black. The radio clock blurred 3:53 in a dull crimson light. All I could make out was the shadowy outline of Parker, my trusty beagle, sitting upright at my feet. “Hey boy, did you hear that?” I whispered instinctively. “Someone’s in the house.” My vision was starting to warm up to the darkness. Parker just stared back at me, his head tilted, his long ears hanging to the side of his head like hand towels on a wall. He turned his head to the bedroom doorway, lifted his nose to the night and sniffed. He turned back to face me. “Don’t think so.” I swore Parker spoke but it couldn’t be. I mean his hound drawn lips seemed to move to the words I heard but that was impossible. “Who’s there?” I yelled into the night. “Whoever it is, I am warning you that I am at this moment retrieving my loaded double-barrel twelve gauge from under the bed. I will shoot you. So leave now and I want to hear the door slam behind you.” I made some dumb noises in a lame attempt to fool the intruder into believing what I had just proclaimed. I took the ruse to the next level. “Okay. I’m fully armed and about to call 911 from my fully powered cell phone. Oh yeah, strong signal, four bars. Oh yeah, this is going to be a very clear 911 call.” “You’re breaking me up. Put the phone down human Bob.” It was Parker talking. I was certain of it. Nah, it had to be a sick trick. “Okay, good one Steve. You wired up the dog with a little speaker. Very funny.” My brother Steve was known to go to great lengths to pull off pranks. But I was pretty sure he was at his apartment in the city, sixty miles away, God knows doing what, and at 48 years old, unlikely to suddenly bother me with a prank—it had been 25 years since his last one. But the mind scrambles to the most implausible scenarios when so duly challenged. “Don’t think so. Nope it’s me, Parker,” the dog mumbled. I was positive he spoke again. By now I was sitting straight up, leaning towards him. He just sat there and looked at me with those big dark eyes. His poker face was on. “Parker? Are you talking to me?” “Well I’m not talking to myself.” I leaned back against the headboard. He yawned. “This can’t be. I’ve got to stop watching Animal Planet.” “Listen, I’ve got something to say and I’m not sure how long this talking stuff is going to work so …” “You are talking!” I interrupted incredulously. “Should you want I bow wow?” “Holy cow! Parker you are talking.” “Yup. But I’m not sure for how long. So can I say a few things before …” “I can’t believe this.” “Yeah I know. Either can I but if you don’t mind.” I looked at him with a giant smile plastered across my face. Parker can talk. The dog was talking. Who was I kidding? It had to be a prank. He continued. “I’ve been listening to a lot of that talk radio and that C-SPAN channel you watch while you write. I’m here to tell ya I don’t like what I’m hearing.” “You’re kidding me right?” “Afraid not.” Oh this was good. I was really hallucinating. Talk-shmalk, I had a few nagging questions of my own. “Hey, can I ask you something before you get to your stuff?” “Make it quick. I haven’t got all night.” “You like smell things a hundred times more than we do, right?” “Four hundred.” “Okay, four hundred. Wow! Then I really wonder about this.” “Yeah I know. Why do we like to sniff every morsel of excrement or yellow patch of urine we encounter on our walks?” “Now that you bring it up, yeah, why? It must smell like the inside of Dick Cheney’s or Ted Kennedy’s septic tank? And you know how much crap they’re filled with.” “That was a funny one human Bob. But it isn’t like what you smell. We pick up a lot more notes. It’s a broader pallet if you will. We don’t smell stink. We smell identity, mood, and illness. For instance, you know that crazy cairn terrier down the street?” “Yeah.” “She has stomach cancer and her humans don’t have a clue.” “You are kidding me?” “She probably has less than six months if they don’t get her to a vet soon.” He paused to lick his right front paw. “Yeah, and another thing. Don’t take me out at nights for awhile.” “Why?” “Cause there is a rabid possum living under the porch. That’s why.” “You know this from the smell of possum poop?” “Excrement.” “Whatever.” “Yup.” Parker yawned as if bored. “So is that it? Can I say what I need to say?” “Well there is that thing you do with that licking your, you know, your …” “Penis?” “Well, yeah.” “Jealous are we?” “Well, it’s just that …” “It’s all about keeping clean. Nothing pleasurable if that’s what you’re driving at. Nothing like what you do with your hand. By the way, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pet me afterwards. Nope, no pleasure; it’s all business. You made sure of that when you had me “fixed”, remember. Thank you very much.” “Oh yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea you knew any different.” “No idea my butt. I’ll ‘no idea’ ya.” He paused again to lick his right paw again and then continued. “But I don’t hold it against you. We don’t hold grudges. Heck, if we did, we would have mauled most humans dead by now. Which brings me to why I am talking to you.” “No grudges. Really? I mean that “fixing” stuff is pretty serious. That’s pretty good if that doesn’t bother you.” “You done? Can I get to my concern?” “Sure. Sorry. Go ahead.” “How can humans be so smart supposedly, while they single handedly are destroying the Earth?” “You mean global warming?” “It’s more than that. It’s the air. It’s the water. It’s the dirt. It’s the forests. It’s the killing. It’s the anger. It’s the hate. It’s the grudges. It’s the fear. It’s everything.” “Oh come on. You’re being a little dramatic.” “We don’t know dramatic.” “Well give me examples of what you mean.” “First of all, the air is filled with danger. Dogs, cats, birds, animals of all kinds can smell it. It is our biggest topic when we get together.” “I don’t smell a thing.” “Yeah, that’s part of the problem. And you can’t taste the troubled water either.” “Scientists don’t seem to be complaining. So I should be listening to a dog?” “We have no agenda. Dogs call it as they smell it.” “ ‘call it as they smell it’; I’m suppose to just accept that?” “Yeah, there is a lot you should just accept.” “Oh yeah, like what else?” “Well, and here is what I think is the crux of the problem, you keep choosing the wrong alpha humans.” “What?” “You’ve got this alpha thing all wrong. Just because animals order their packs based on physical size and strength doesn’t make it so for humans. We do it because we are simple. You do it because you are thoughtless. That’s what we, and I think it is fair to say I am speaking for all animals, don’t get. Humans are able to think things through. But they never do. Well, that’s not completely true; some have but they are mocked or marginalized. An alpha dog barks and gets all puffy, like that wacky shepherd Sarge from around the block. The worst he can do is break out of his electronic fence and charge one of us. But you humans take it up a notch.” “Can you give me a for instance?” “God there are so many. Let me see. Okay, you’ve elected a president who pounds his chest and walks around like a gorilla with its arms all out to the side, all tough and all, carrying on with ‘bring it on’. When he jumps the fence, he brings tanks and bombs and humans loaded down in weapons and in body armor. Meanwhile, you have alpha males all over the place, flexing their muscle in their packs, threatening to obtain nuclear weapons, the great equalizer, giving the president one excuse after another to hop the fence. It’s nuts. And I for one am telling you, you’ve got it all wrong.” “Well, I don’t know what to say.” “You don’t need to say anything. Just start picking the right alpha humans; humans whose visions see beyond fighting, whose hearts hold no grudges, whose thoughts and reasons are not the products of testosterone, whose collective knowledge is rooted in the concept that true peace is never the consequence of war but the outcome of constant learning, negotiating and adjusting.” “This is what you want to tell me? Nothin’ for nothin’ but it’s a little heavy for a little chat with a dog at 3:30 in the morning.” “In a nut shell, yeah.” It was hard to accept this from my beagle. I mean, he’s a dog; a sleeping, eating, sniffing, crapping dog. I was chalking this whole episode up to stress. I was apparently snapping. “That’s it. I’m pretty much done. Just one last thing while I have the chance.” “What? World hunger? String theory?” I asked sarcastically. “You get the right alpha humans and the world hunger thing will take care of itself, smart ass. As far as string theory, who do you think I am, Hawking? I’m just a dog. No it’s more pedestrian than that, something I think you can manage.” “Then what, already?” I asked impatiently. “You know that thing you do occasionally where you empty the dish washer in the buff.” “Ummm … yeah I guess.” “Put some clothes on. It’s disturbing. I’m beggin’ ya, please!” “All right, but only if you lick your privates in private.” “I’ll see what I can do. No promises.” “So this is it? No more talking? You know we could make a fortune on Letterman with his stupid pet tricks.” “It’ll never happen. You see, this is a one time deal. Not sure why or how this is happening. Maybe that God guy is involved somehow. All I know is that when it is done, it is …” He abruptly stopped talking. “Parker?” Not a grunt. He yawned and as he did he stretched his front legs out and spread across the foot of the bed, his ears resting flat on the blanket. “Parker … are you done? Is that it?” He slowly closed his eyes and floated off to sleep. “Parker … just like that?” He began to twitch; in hot pursuit of a fox I imagined. “Holy smokes. I must be dreaming myself.” I curled back down under the safety of my covers, scratched my butt and thought about the conversation I had just had with Parker or myself or both. I sniffed the air. It smelled fine to me. What the heck was he talking about, ‘danger in the air’? It had to be a dream. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about getting a real job real soon, apparently this writing stuff was getting the best of me. I also made a point to remember to talk to the owners of that crazy cairn terrier. I thought it was the least I could do. 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At the risk of insulting the nearly 8,700,000 residents of the Garden State, I should explain that I was raised along the Jersey shore. I graduated from Red Bank High and spent many summers at the Driftwood Beach Club in Sea Bright. But as soon as I could muster the courage, I left that overcrowded, haven for the Sopranos, behind in 1976, and moved to the desert resort community of Scottsdale, Arizona. It only took a few years to rid myself of the telltale Eastern accent and acclimate to sunny days, wide-open spaces, and toll-free roadways. While I’ve only touched on some of the reasons I departed the home of cranberry bogs and Bruce Springsteen, suffice it to say I left also left my snow shovel in the garage when I sold the house and never looked back. After all, winters in Scottsdale average near 70 degrees. I did enjoy a few aspects of shore living but not enough to keep me there. But enough about that part of the country. This article is really about what makes us crazy. Being from NJ was a beginning, but not entirely responsible for my current disabled behavior. I don’t remember much about the Jersey drivers but I imagine they can’t be much worse than what I encounter daily in the West. It amazes me how most got their licenses. Was there some sort of online exam they could take that I missed? What else could account for their immature, uncourteous, lack of skills, and common sense? How can someone drive with no apparent realization that there are actually other drivers on the road? How can they make unique turns, sudden stops, and disturbing instantaneous speed changes that defy most laws of physics? I’m obviously one of the only drivers not vision-impaired and somewhat conscious of most of the rules of the road. That’s some sort of disability in itself, if one is to survive the snarl of unending traffic. Another problem I possess is the inability to express myself properly. The other day I pulled into a well-known, fast-food, place’s drive-thru and ordered my usual ‘chicken taco salad.’ I assume they heard me because they asked if I wanted “haormadsews” which I translated on prior trips to say, “hot-or-mild sauce.” I declined, as I always do, and picked up my order. As I pulled away, I peered into the bag to discover a cheeseburger with fries. Why would that include “haormadsews” anyway, I thought? Pulling back around, I now spent and additional twenty minutes going into the restaurant, waiting in line and finally getting my correct order. Instead of apologizing, the clerk inform me I must have said something that sounded like “cheeseburger.” To which I replied, “Chicken taco salad” could, if one were, say, Chinese, sound EXACTLY like “cheeseburger.” Chalk up disability number three. I have to admit that I have a fourth disability that is equally troublesome: failure to recognize the true problem. I’ve purchased a variety of domains and hosting sites online and had numerous problems. When I call for technical support usually one of the following occurs. I wait on hold for 30 minutes to discover the office is closed and I’m invited to leave a number or visit their site for FAQ’s or technical assistance. I’ve left many messages, which were ignored, so I call back. Now I get a nice gentleman named Sabu in Bombay, India. Although he is quite polite, he has an accent that could bring Professor Henry Higgins to his knees. I ask him to repeat every answer many times and still can’t figure out what he’s saying. Eventually, I realize the futility of the situation and hang up. Then he sends an e-mail apologizing for the communication problem and detailing my real problem: my computer’s probably out of memory. So I dash to my local computer dealer (another national chain) and they sell me more memory. Back home, nothing works. I return to the shop and they sell me a new hard drive. Home again, still no luck. Four hundred dollars and several other parts later, they tell me to get a whole new computer and no, they won’t give me a refund on the “used” parts they sold me just two days ago. So I bite the bullet, buy a new computer, but not from them, the greedy #$%@*! So maybe this counts as disability five: the one where I can’t see when I’m getting taken to the cleaners and have “sucker” stamped on my forehead. I have a plethora of other disabilities that cause me daily consternation: I’m stupid, at least according to some relatives (although I possess two degrees); cheap, according to e-mails offering penis enlargements that I won’t purchase; not financially smart, because I ignore all the refinance-your-mortgage offers I receive in the mail (even though I don’t have a mortgage); and ignorant, because I purchased a pathetic Civic instead of a hot Hummer and laugh about rising gas prices (it also helps that I work out of the home and hardly drive at all). So, with all these disabilities, it’s hard to believe I can function at all. I must have no life or chose to be oblivious to everything that goes on around me. Yet, even with these flaws, I will continue to attempt to order salads and troubleshoot computer glitches. Did I forget to mention I just got back from the Post Office with a small package that was prepaid for a return? After the clerk got off the floor from laughing so hard at the two-dollar postage on the label, I just had to ask what was the matter. Then he then told me it would be another five dollars and what the heck was I thinking? That’s about par for the course, I reckon. That said, I still will not allow a few behavioral problems to keep me from my daily functions. So join with me in my crusade to overcome our disabilities and strive for our survival. In my particular case, it’s my way of saying to the world, “even though I’m from Jersey, I can take everything you can dish out!”