Guys, have you ever noticed that the three hours preceding a three-hour session pass much more slowly than the session itself? Easy to write it off with, Time sure flys when you're having fun, but Crininey! Surely there must be some way to prolong the feeling of the session time without buying more hours.

Why spend 3 hours with anyone?

Wayback Machine

but I can't say that I'd like to employ any of them:

Here are a few:

1.  Have her play the Doodletown Pipers over and over.

2.  Invite her parents over to watch.

3.  Have a large vicious dog present who growls whenever you go near her.

I think you're getting the gist.

The fact of the matter is, time is relative.  It goes so slowly for those who wait; it goes so quickly for those who love.

This is an inextricable condition of being human.

or like mine if you don't

but fill my nose today, and my dick won't be rising again until tomorrow. Why do you think I gave that shit up? Back in my twenties, I loved doing an 8 ball and fucking all night. Ahh, the good old days. lol

Now, if I can figure out something better...

Re: The right weed might slow down time for you ~e~

How true.  Ragweed will have ya sneezing between strokes...

On another puzzle, one raised the other day by Lila Aubrey. She called it the BWE (Bitchy Wife Experience) and wondered why some men went down that road. It never occurred to me that they might just be trying to stretch out the passing of time. I just assumed they were nuts.

Did you know that sneezing is the only other bodily function that employs the same physical mechanism as orgasm?

didn't we all?

The blow and all the fukkin. Lol

There are many different 'loving styles' when having an encounter-
Some quickies, others lasting longer, savoring the experience.
The ones that are the most memorable for me are slooow and sensually seductive,
escaping the bonds of time all together....

Still... There's something sad about the final shower and the good-bye kiss. Sometimes, when it's good, I actually fall in love and don't snap out of it till I'm halfway back to my place. Maybe I just REMEMBER the sessions as not being long enough. Unusually I'm plumb tuckered out by the time they're over, so... I guess I should be glad this is all I have to complain about

My std post on the newbie question will say that:

You might have fked... I would have talked bwaahahahaa. I was 'that girl.' I would do all their shit, and then kick them out when it was gone... no one ever got laid lol.

-- Modified on 1/30/2014 4:37:40 PM

I can't believe some of the stuff my friends and I put in our bodies. A so-called friend gave me a birthday gift of rosewood seeds (I think that's what they were). Supposed to be a hallucinogenic. Felt nauseous for the first half hour, then it was like LSD. It was only afterward he told me the active ingredient was arsenic.  

Einstein is quoted as saying  “when a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it’s longer than any hour”

I can just see you hose nose, babbling your brains out, until the shit ran out, with you tossing them to the curb unless they went out and got some more, That is so YOU!!! lmao

The thing is, in my "ripe old age" talking, that's all I am capable of doing when my nose is full, and don't even thing about letting me near a pipe, I wouldn't even have to hit it, I bet you my dick would quit working just from walking by a base pipe. lmao

-- Modified on 1/30/2014 6:13:50 PM

The passage of time is relative, well established.  The perception of the passage of time is secondary.  If you are fully present and fully engaged, then the experience will dominate the perception of the passage of time.  If you are focused upon time, then you are not present and probably quite bored (which gets back to that wife comment!)

I'm not going to ask the obvious question of what might happen if one sat on a hot stone (putting aside waffle irons as perhaps being overkill), maybe a stone bench that's been under the sun for several hours on a hot afternoon, WITH a beautiful woman at you side (give her a cool towel to sit on). No, the outcome of that is pretty obvious, blisters on the butt and a rather strained conversation. Had experiences similar to that on the patio metal chair by my pool.

Well, that is usually what happens in a session. Very few thoughts are entertained other than maybe things like, Oh, I get it, she spritzed the topical on her uvula to lessen the gag reflex. Clever girl!!

Once available in most flower shops and popular in Autumn Umbra arrangements. Then when the world outside "got wise" (as if THAT'S ever going to happen) and the mad Agra scientists sterilized all the seed pods. I think first they plucked all the pods out before distribution, leaving these gruesome russet-grey honeycomb-shaped things that nobody wanted for any use. Sales plummeted. Obviously. But they were good medicine. A mild psilocybin, if you can imagine that. Slightly weaker than mescaline but less havoc on the digestive system. If you remember those you must be of my generation. And by the way, it's not true that if you remember those days you missed them. That's not how the brain works.