Heads, Tails

One of the pleasures of being a heterosexual human male is appreciating how many very different angles it’s nice to approach a female from.

Nature differentiates both men and women as individuals, but differently. Bogart’s face suggests the bumps he went over to get wherever he is; Audrey Hepburn just looks like a perfect version of what any human egg may become.

Jean Simmons
Jean Simmons too!
thanx celebritiesfans.com

OK: we’re considering faces! That’s a great angle to approach a woman from. It’s at the “head” end of her. It’s where her intelligence is most immediately on display, her panoply of expression, her organs of speech. It’s the seat of many of her sense organs: sight, smell, taste, hearing … Very nice.

It’s the end of her that society trains us that we’re permitted to admire openly. Glances at her other end have to be more oblique: unless we’re a porn producer, or a journalist jacking up the TV ads market.

beach volleyball cheerleaders olympics 2012
thanx yimg.com

Now that is a great photograph! We see her beautiful face, but we have a vivid sense of her ass too, despite it “facing” away from us! And her snatch could hardly be more eloquent.

Oh, God, just a moment:

beach volleyball cheerleaders

Look at those same girls from another angle! (One at least is the same.)

Back in the 1960s my ski buddy and I were getting on the chair lift at some resort, the Catskills or Vermont, and I’m looking at the rear end of the ski bunny ahead of us, anxiously awaiting the moment when she’ll bend her heine to fit the coming chair, and John leans over to whisper loudly to the local holding the chair in place till contact is made: it’s his job to watch the ass of the girl I’m glancing surreptitiously at, “I guess you get to see a lot a can every day.” Of course the girl heard him, that’s who John was really talking to: the girl: the girl with the cute bunny rear.

I’ll never forget the night during a college vacation when I was drinking with my old high school buddies at our quandam home town tavern. The Park View in Rockville Centre in 1958 wasn’t a college hang out, it had been a blue collor adult bar, unpretentious, when we started crowding it. But that night all the regulars were crowded out, overwhelmed: college kids everywhere. We old timers had gotten there early enough to have a table, and we’re pouring down pitcher after pitcher of beer. But jammed against our faces were the hind ends of newcomer standees. Roger is making funny faces because he’s got a fabulous blond’s fanny right by his jaw. The blond is animatedly relating to whatever guy is standing in front of her. Roger doesn’t care about that. His scars from last year’s car wreck glowing red on his forehead, 48 stitches in the one head wound, Roger slides off his stool, duck walks on his knees, opens his mouth wide, teeth forward, and takes the biggest bites he can on her luscious rump. He chews this buttock, that buttock, smushes his face right between the girls buttocks, sucking and smacking loudly, chewing her ass: right through her pants, her panties … Me and Al and John and Almer are cracking up: Roger is about to get his head bashed into a brand new set of face wounds by this cute girl’s boyfriend. But the girl never peeped. She kind of brushed her backside with her hands, to no effect: unless her intention was to caress Roger’s face.

No, no: when you’re introduced to a girl, you say “Hello” to her face. You offer her face some food, you offer her lips some drink: then you take her to the car, then you nuzzle her, then you get your muzzle against her hips, her other lips, her butt. Then you get your dick out, and …

me pausing means that’s draft 1, more coming
I wanna talk about last night’s dance, and all the fine hips and bosoms that were there

PS as I think of it: Roger hated me: cause I genuinely loved jazz, that wasn’t permitted to white people, wasn’t accepted by their “peers.” But as the lawyer said to me, I “have no peers.” After a time I hated Roger back. I think the other guys yielded more to Roger’s hatred more than to any sentiment they had for all those years of being my buddies. I was always too intellectual for them too, and once I went off to Columbia things became very strained. Nevertheless, we drank together plenty of times, even Roger.


About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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