Hustler

Not just the spicy, canned quasi-meat that he chowed on as a child, but that steady flow of interesting inbox clutter that has gotten such a crummy rap over the years.

For a plague that most estimates peg as a $10-billion drain on corporate America, I gotta say we would miss it if it were gone. And we would be much poorer if it vanished.

“Hello, Jimmy this is Helga in Kuala Lumpur. Woud you like to see some pictres of me and my freinds?”

Well, golly-gee yes, Helga!

You can’t spell ‘pictures’ or ‘friends’ and your attempt at intriguing me was laughable, but I’m sure we can become fast friends.

Maybe millions of middle-aged American men got Helga’s bit of spam, but it was important stuff for Jimmy. It’s attention that assures him he is still viable and desirable – attention that he frankly doesn’t get anywhere else.

But hey, what if Jimmy is feeling a little self-conscious or feels he might need a little boost to impress Helga and her ‘freinds’? Looky, there is more help on the way in the inbox.

“Even if you have no erectin problems SOFT CIA7LIS would help you to make BETTER SE3X MORE OFTEN! and to bring unimagnable plesure to her.”

Hey great news. This dude can’t spell either, maybe all the true stud muffins on the Internet skipped English and went straight to Sex Ed Class. Whatever, it sure looks like a recipe for sexual magic.

“The tests showed that the majority of men after taking this medic ation were able to have PERFECT ER7ECTION during 36 hours!”

Fantastic! But what if Helga’s friends aren’t happy with, you know, the size? Although I can’t imagine anyone complaining after 36 hours of PERFECT ER7ECTION.

This brings us to the real reason for and the real meaning of SPAM: Small Penis Adjustment Messages.

Or is that Short Pecker Alleviation Mailing?

The original SPAM is allegedly a bastardization of Spiced Ham, the canned pork/ham/random-pig-parts delicacy that was introduced by a Minnesota company in the 1930s.

Wikipedia online, however, refers to a handful of clever acronyms such as “Spare Parts Already Minced” and “Something Posing As Meat.”

Regardless, never have so many penis-enlargement messages been sent to one man by so many. Jimmy’s in-box is full of offers of “extra three inches” (three plus one equals four, cool) and “guaranteed increased girth.” That’s GIG, for short. GIG-SPAM.

Jimmy started getting a bit of a complex about the reams of these modest-manhood remedy pitches, so he started unsubscribing from the mailing list. That worked for a while, until he realized that Mrs. Jimmy was re-subscribing him!

“It can’t hurt, give it a try,” she said.

Thanks a lot, Mrs. Jimmy. Not happy with Jimmy’s girth?

Whenever Jimmy thinks girth, he thinks of Ron Jeremy, the famed star of many classic and not-so-classic flicks. Ron was in Las Vegas recently when Jimmy was in town for the World Series of Poker, wearing loose-fitting trousers, presumably to accommodate his girth.

It doesn’t really matter. We can go back to the inbox to feel better about ourselves and to look with hope to the future.

Here’s some cool snake oil stuff that can smooth Jimmy’s wrinkles and some other stuff guaranteed to restore his thinning hairline to “fullness and luster.” Who hasn’t wished for a lustrous and full scalp that the ladies would swoon over?

Pretty soon, Jimmy is shaping up as a young-looking, enhanced-girth sex machine.

Helga is gonna love Jimmy.

All because of SPAM.

          By Jimmy D. Pole

By Dean Stone 

If you’re like most of us, you enjoy the occasional trip to the casino.  Having the chance to win a few bucks is appealing to all of us.  My buddies and I like to get in an evening of gaming at least once a month, sometimes more.  It’s usually a good time and it’s rarely more costly than an evening in the bar.  I always had the mindset that I was willing to dump a set amount of cash in order to have a good time in the casino.  I expected to lose, and almost every time I went I did.  That all changed a few months ago, and here’s why. 

A little while back I was sitting at a blackjack table and I was watching a guy making a different bet each hand.  We were playing on a table with a limit of $5 minimum and a $100 maximum bet.  He was up about $400 in less than half an hour and I figured I was in the presence of a card counter.  I didn’t want to say anything out loud, just in case I got him in trouble, but if I noticed the odd betting he was making then surely the Pit Boss noticed. 

Shortly after that, the Pit Boss watched him for a bit then left him alone.  I had to know what was going on so I asked the guy what his secret was.  He told me he was just playing basic progressive betting tactics, which was completely over my head.  I enquired more and he explained to me how you can have more control over your fate when you sit at a casino table.  For the next hour he explained to me his method for betting blackjack, and since then my visits to the casino have been different. 

Let me try and guess how your usual visit to the casino goes.  You take between $40 and $200 and sit down at a table game with the hope of getting lucky.  You win some and you lose some, and unless you are able to walk away during one of the periods when you’re up a few bucks, you usually end up dumping everything to the house.  It’s ok, that’s what most people do.  It’s how casinos make their fortunes. 

Let me first say that this is in no way a foolproof method of winning at blackjack.  The only way you can do that is to count cards and not have the house realize that you’re doing it.  Both are very difficult to do and require a lot of planning and study.  These are betting methods that can certainly backfire if the proper conditions don’t present themselves.  This system requires a situation where the win-loss variance is streaky.  In other words this system will not work if you find yourself winning one hand then losing the next.  So keep that in mind if you decide to put this system to the test.  These systems will apply to most table games like Blackjack, Pai Gow, Three Card Poker, Let it Ride, etc. 

The first thing he taught me was the “double after a loss” system.  Simply put, it means doubling your bet after you lose a hand.  If you bet one dollar and lose, you bet two dollars on the next hand.  If you lose that, you bet four dollars on the next, and so on until you win a hand and recover your losses.  Then you go back to betting one dollar.  This will put you up one dollar once your winning hand arrives. 

This is a great system as long as you don’t hit a long losing streak.  The size of your bankroll will determine how many hands you can lose so you’ll need to bring a little more than $40 to the table in case the cards run cold on you.   

He also told me about “increasing your bet after a win”.  If you win one dollar you bet two the next time.  When you win you take one dollar and put it aside, and bet the remaining three dollars on the next hand.  If that hand wins, you take out two dollars and put it aside, then bet the remaining four on the next hand, and so on.  When you lose a hand you go back to betting one dollar. 

This system puts you in a situation where you’re playing with winnings, or essentially the casino’s money.  When you do hit a streak of winning hands you will make a lot of cash fast because you’re increasing your bet every time.  This is the system where you will lose more if you trade wins and losses with the house, so remember that streaks are what you’re looking to take advantage of. 

Which method you use is up to you.  I prefer the second system of raising your bet after a win, but I let the first hand decide which one I play.  If I lose the first hand I’ll employ the “increase after a loss method”, and the other method if I win.  That means I double the bet regardless of the outcome of the first hand.   

As I said earlier, these methods are not surefire ways to win at casino tables.  They are methods where you can maximize your profit when you have a streak of wins.  It still means that you have to find the courage to leave the table while you’re ahead of the game.  These strategies will still dump your money to the house if you continue to play and play.  Get yourself up a few bucks and step away; it will make your night and you’ll look like you really know what you’re doing. 

USE-ful tips on the impossible dream

By Jimmy D. Poole

Don’t worry. This space is not intended to ape a Dear Abby advice column. But when revelations come to Jimmy on his favorite topics of sports, women, betting and old cars, he will be sharing with the congregation. And I have discovered a doozie that has proven a Godsend to Jimmy and should help men across America live more peaceful and hassle-free existences with their women.

If you consulted Mrs. Jimmy on a good day (if the Prozac is working its magic and Jimmy doesn’t have a poker game or golf outing planned), she would concede she is mildly demanding, a tad moody and even a touch cranky. Mind you, she has plenty of reason to be cranky.

She wakes up each morning and sees Jimmy laying there in bed next to her. I figure she opens her eyes each day, glances over and mutters, “Ah, Christ! That wasn’t just a bad dream.”

Over 20 years, that adds up to waking next to Jimmy 7,000+ times. Hell, there were chicks in university who sank into deep depressions after experiencing it just once.

But Jimmy has calmed all that by strategically dropping three simple little words into conversation. Jimmy’s USE theory can turn incessant crankiness and rancorous debate into calmness and harmony.

U- Understand

Men can never understand women. It’s impossible to do because they don’t make sense. It’s like trying to comprehend what the hell is going on in the minds of North Korean political leadership. They say and do bizarre things, get angry, and when you ask to help or mediate, they launch missiles at you and threaten to blow up the world.

But you can say you understand. Even when the woman knows you don’t understand – because you’re a man and are too thick or shallow to comprehend them – she seems to be placated if you say “I understand what you mean.”

Then shut up and wait for her to continue. At the next break (pay attention to make sure she is not in mid-thought), drop another “I understand.”

They usually won’t ask you to elaborate, which is great news because you have no freakin’ idea what you just said you understood.

S - Sorry

Apologize. For everything.

Women do not like to be wrong and they especially do not like to be responsible if something goes awry.  Apologize for it.

They say sorry is the hardest word to say. Bullshit. Jimmy says it all the time. The wife likes it. 

Jimmy is not really sorry because usually, Jimmy didn’t do anything. But it sure seems to help.

If you say it a lot, then you will by default hit the times when you actually have done something for which you should apologize. Since you are in active ‘Sorry’ mode, you will seem proactively contrite instead of stunned beyond belief.

If she asks why you are apologizing so much, say you are sorry for doing so and will try to not do it as much. Then say you understand why it might bother her.

E- Especially

A difficult woman will find ways to get cranky and mad even when the situation does not merit it. This is an especially frustrating scenario for men, but I have found a way around it.

Women experience physiological and hormonal variations that far exceed anything a man can ever physically comprehend. If you have ever had the misfortune of knowing the crazed desperation of a crack addict or witnessed the wild mood and behavior swings of a steroid abuser, then mixing those all together with wolverine DNA gets you close to pre- and post-pregnancy hormonal changes. (Note: it does not come close to comparing with menopause.)

So understandably (see how well Jimmy understands?), something can go in her ear seemingly positive and innocent and get processed into something very different.

“You look nice today.” Sounds OK.

Not if it gets processed as “Hmm, he didn’t tell me I looked nice yesterday. Did I look like shit yesterday? Why didn’t he tell me yesterday? I think he might be telling me to shape up because I looked like shit yesterday.”

So it might reach her brain as “You looked like shit yesterday,” which will invariably earn you an LOD (look of death), a BAM (backhand across the mouth) or a GFY (Go f*?& yourself).

There is a way Jimmy has successfully avoided all this. The word ‘especially’ has the power to create confusion in her processor.

“You look ‘especially’ nice today.”

Now she cannot turn it into anything negative. She looked nice yesterday, she looks even better today.

“You did an ‘especially’ good job in the garden.”

“You were ‘especially’ great in bed last night.”

Just pray she doesn’t ask you to explain why. After you apologize for saying it or say you understand a few times, she could be ramping up to get pissed off. F

“Three hundred dollars if you pee on me.”

The gentleman was dark and handsome, sporting an expensive suit and an incredibly expensive watch. He wore a subtle, spicy cologne, had thick black hair, used good hair products.

We were sipping martinis in a suite at one of the new Strip hotels—ultra-upscale and chichi. I was his outcall selection from an exclusive escort service.

“That’s all you have to do,” the guy insisted. “That’s 300 smackers if you pee all over my body.”

I was mildly surprised perhaps, but hardly shocked. Seemed like the better-dressed the man, the more outrageous the request. I was only three months into this game, but already I’d had my share of unusual “dates.” My first night out, I was smeared with chocolate sauce from head to toe, my nipples topped with whipped cream and cherries like a hot fudge sundae, then lapped clean.

Last month I met with a kindly old coot who insisted I dress up as a Catholic schoolgirl—pigtails, pleated skirt, white knee socks—and bend over his lap for a good spanking before I sucked his “lollipop.” He told me I was a bad little girl and had me back for a repeat performance the very next evening.

Then, just a week ago, an Asian businessman picked me specifically for my size 9 feet. He lovingly nursed on each and every piggy, slathered my peds in cold cream and had me jack his little pecker between my arches till he sprayed. It was easy, easy money, but it did get me to wondering, Doesn’t anybody just want to fuck anymore?

This was the first time a client—or anyone, for that matter—had ever asked me for a golden shower. I had zero, zilch experience. Still, I simply smiled and nodded my head and inquired as to whether he would like me dressed or naked. Naked, as it turned out.

I always loved the act of stripping, watching the customer’s eyes as I bared my breasts, my long legs and, finally, my pussy. Henry—the obviously phony name he gave me—was suitably impressed. He was hard in his pants by the time I helped him undress and led him to the bathroom. Nice body. Very nice, thick dick.

I had assumed he would opt for the bathtub; instead he sat on the toilet, legs slightly spread, and looked up at me expectantly. Pissing on command was harder than I would have imagined—I straddled his lap and tried to focus. But the sight of his beautiful, hard cock was getting me too hot.

Closing my eyes, I thought about running water, creeks, streams, rivers. Finally, I reached over to the sink and turned on the tap. Yes! My urine started as a warm, golden trickle splattering over the guy’s fuck set. It was amazing, the look of ecstasy that came over his face. It made me feel powerful, like—I don’t know—a goddess or something.

The trickle grew into a stream. When I spread my flaps, out gushed a fuckin’ yellow river. Moving my hips, I could direct my flow to his shaft, his pubes, his nuts. Henry was moaning now, bucking his hips, fucking my flood of piss. And then he was slithering down the toilet, between my thighs, till I was peeing on his chest and his hard, tight nipples.

Damn, this was so hot. My pussy was tingling. Honestly, I’d had no idea I would be so into this. All of my senses peaked. I felt primitive, uninhibited. Dipping my fingers into my own stream, I painted my lips with urine. My nectar tasted musky, sensual.

It surprised me when Henry slipped the rest of the way to the floor and started drinking my piss with his tongue and open mouth. Even more surprising was the force of the climax that suddenly crashed through my body.

Henry’s lips locked around my honeypot, and he drank the last of my urine and all of my girl juice. I felt his own jizz splat against the back of my thigh as he sucked.

Now that we’d both come, I was truly ready to ride the guy. Hell, I was so horny, I would have given him any-fuckin’-thing he wanted—all night and at no additional charge! Unfortunately, that golden shower was all Henry had in mind. I considered begging, then regained my pride and began looking around for my clothes. Minutes later, $300 richer, he was escorting me to the door.

Hell, doesn’t anybody just want to fuck anymore?

–L.J.

Alliance, AB

OBSERVATIONS OF A BI WIFE’s

CURIOUS HUBBY

My wife is a closet lesbian, so I’ve taken to watching her from the closet. Oh, she’ll tell you that she doesn’t consider herself a lesbian. She’ll tell you she’s bisexual. And, actually, for a husband and wife who’ve been married for seven years, we have an adequate sex life. Like clockwork, we fuck every Wednesday night and Saturday afternoon, and most of the time Nina even climaxes.

But it’s clear where her real passion lies when you see my wife facedown in poontang, lapping up pussy jizz, nursing on a big, fat clit. And the look on her face when her own coming turns multiple. It’s ecstatic, it’s blissful, elated—it’s something I’ve never seen when I’m in bed with Nina. So there it is. My wife loves fucking women. And you know what? I’m all right with that, because I’ve discovered a new love too: watching.

The first time I hid in our closet, I guess it was about a year back. I began to suspect that my wife was “stepping out” on me. I started noticing things, like coming home to rumpled sheets and the musk of sex lingering in our bedroom. Not to mention the way Nina was suddenly so damn concerned I enjoyed my regular Thursday round of golf. Half-crazed with jealousy, my mind conjured up all sorts of scenarios. I imagined the gardener sucking on Nina’s nipples. I saw the box boy at the supermarket reaming her tight, pink-brown pooper, my boss jackhammering her coochie. Fuck! Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore!

So I snuck home the following Thursday, while the wife was at pilates. And, yes, I hid in our walk-in closet. It was surprisingly roomy, with horizontal slats that enabled a perfect view of pretty much the whole damn room. I was going to nail that bastard-asshole who was nailing my wife. I was going to rip the fucker to fuckin’ shreds.

Pure anger kept me alert and fuming for the first hour, but anger can be exhausting. I must have dozed off, for the next thing I knew, I startled awake to the sound of giggling coming down the hallway. My plan was to wait until the adulterers were stark naked, then pounce from my hiding spot and pummel the wife-stealing, no-good, two-timing piece of shit to a bloody pulp.

More giggling, and Nina entered the room already topless, her perky Cs swaying and bobbing. They were gorgeous, with long, fat coral-pink nips. The blood rushed to my head as I waited to see who would follow.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for the sight of Amy, our  18-year-old baby-sitter. What?! While my mind was still trying to sort things out, blood rushed to my cock.

Cute, blond, freckle-faced Amy must have come straight from high school: She was still wearing her pleated plaid skirt, cotton white shirt and white socks. Not for long. A minute later she was standing before my wife in a black latex bra and G-string. Hardly the picture of innocence.

What was Nina thinking, seducing a girl 14 years her junior? Seducing our baby-sitter! But as the minutes ticked on, I came to realize exactly who was seducing whom.

A string of rapid-fire orders issued from Amy’s sweet, petulant lips: “Naked! Now! … Hand me the strap-on. … On your knees, bitch! … Spread your twat lips! … Wider, dammit!”

And my wife—a normally dominant, capable woman—simply giggled and obeyed. Talk about sexy! My stick was in my fist by the time Amy’s black dick pushed into Nina’s fuck box. The tart’s prick was a little longer and fatter than my own, and in contrast to the sweet marital sex Nina and I enjoyed, the girl was literally ramming it home. My wife was clearly loving it, pushing her firm tush high in the air, moaning and thrashing.

My fist kept time with the barely legal chick, moving up and down to her every in-and-out. When she started slapping my wife’s ass, I started slapping my balls, just a little. A T-shirt stuffed into my mouth kept me quiet. It didn’t take long for Nina to climax, and like I said at the beginning, I had never seen her climax like that—one come after another, screaming, her back arching off the mattress and, finally, a look of pure, ecstatic bliss on her face. Now, who was I to deny her that? Besides which, I busted one of the best nuts of my life all across those closet slats.

So my wife and I talked later, after Amy left, and we came to a mutual understanding: Nina can fuck around as much as she likes, but only girls, and only if I’m watching.

–C.V.

Alexandria, ON

Omaha 8 is great

By Dean Stone

For about five years now the game of Texas Hold’em has been just about everywhere we look. There’s so much media attention on Texas Hold’em that most new poker players are not aware of the many other variations of poker that can be played. Most of us have heard of seven-card stud and draw poker, but there’s one variation of poker that I consider to be the best one of all. Omaha Hi/Low Split, or Omaha 8 as it’s also known, is played all over the world by card junkies like me, and most people that try the game end up adding it to their regular grind.

This spilt-pot game can earn at a rate that puts Texas Hold’em to shame. Hold’em is a game of small edges and mostly head-to-head action. Omaha 8 often has multiple players at the showdown, making for larger pots and better earning rates. At first glance, a game of Omaha 8 appears to be a bunch of loose-playing fools throwing in as many bets as possible. In reality it’s an aggressive game of draws and pot odds. I’ll cover the basics of the game from pre-flop to showdown, and introduce some of you to a fun, action-filled form of poker.

Before we start I want to stress two things. First, remember that you must use two cards from your hand. It seems like a simple rule, but it can get confusing at times for the beginner. Five-card hands like straights, flushes, and boats require two cards from your hand, not just one from your hand and four board cards. The other thing to remember is that the board must show three cards 8 or smaller in order for someone to win half the pot with the small hand; otherwise the high hand gets the entire pot because there is no qualifying low hand. It’s crucial to have a full understanding of the game.

Starting hand basics are different in Omaha 8 than they are for Hold’em. It’s important that you know which combinations will provide the highest winning percentage. You want to be in the mindset that you will have a chance to win both halves of the pot. This event is called “scooping”.

The perfect starting hand is A,A,2,3, with both aces suited to the 2 or 3. The low straight, or the “wheel”, is the most common hand that will scoop the pot, so playing a hand with A,5 or A,4 can periodically win a big pot. A pocket pair and two low cards or suited aces also provide good chances for scooping the pot.

Some starting hands you might think are good are just the opposite. The worst hand you could be dealt would be four-of-a-kind. Four suited cards aren’t worth the price of the blind either. Remember to think in these terms; A,3,Q,Q would be a better hand than A,A,K,K. If you have combinations of high and low possibilities you’ll be looking to get in the hand. Four big cards and four small cards are hands that are worth getting into the action, but should be played cautiously because you are only in the hand for half the pot.

It’s rare that you will play a hand without an ace. There are good aces and bad aces in Omaha 8. The good ones are suited, or they have a two or a three to go along with them. Any other aces are bad ones, and should be mucked (folded). And don’t get attached to pocket aces if you don’t have low-hand possibilities to go with them.

It’s wise not to raise the nut low A, 2 until the later rounds. Raising this hand early will cause opponents to fold early. If the flop is all high cards then you’ve needlessly lost those bets. Nut low is often a quarter-pot winner, so you want at least four or more players in the hand if you hope to make any money. If you’re in a late position and a lot of players have paid the blind, or it’s a loose table, then a raise might be wise.

Once the flop comes, the rule of thumb is that you must have either hit your hand or hit a draw to the best hand. So if you’re not in the lead after the flop, you better have lots of outs (draw cards that will give you the winning hand) to at least half of the pot, or preferably outs to scoop the whole pot. It’s common that you will fold after a lot of flops.

Being in the lead means you have the nut hand at this point. When I say the nut hand, I mean the nut hand. Second-best trips and two-pair flops are dangerous. There’s a lot of cards dealt out in Omaha 8, and you can count on seeing the nut hand from someone most of the time.

When you’re leading you should bet aggressively. Watch for cards that could give someone a better hand than you have. When these cards do come, and you get a new bet from an opponent, you can be pretty sure the hand is out there. There is very little bluffing in Omaha 8. Realize you’ve been outdrawn, and muck your hand.

When on the draw you must calculate your outs and count the size of the pot. It’s a little easier to get good pot odds in Omaha 8 because there are usually more outs and more action than Hold’em. Practice this skill again and again until most situations become recognizable and allow you to calculate quickly.

Here’s an example of how many outs a person could have in a hand.

You have Ac,2c,8h,6h

The flop comes 7h,5c,Qc. At this point you have nothing. But when you count the outs you have 17 outs to make the nut-high hand and 20 outs to make the nut-low hand. Small clubs will pose the opportunity to scoop the pot. This is the ideal draw situation, and one would look to bet out or raise with this great of a draw. The value of your draws will vary. The more outs you have, the bigger the bet you can call.

A couple draw rules that might save you a few bets after the flop are . . .

1. If you have a flush or straight draw, and there is a pair on the flop, you should muck your draw.

2. Don’t draw for low if the flop has two big cards, and the opposite goes for high if the flop has two low cards.

3. Never draw to the low end of any flush or straight.

If you played proper starting hands, you should find yourself in one of two places by the time you get to the turn. You either have the lead in the high or low hand, or you have lots of outs to win one of them (or preferably both). Your play should be straightforward from here. Bet aggressively with the lead, and attempt a check raise with the nut hand.

Some basic things to keep in mind on the turn are . . .

1. If there are three suited cards, and you don’t have a flush, you should fold.

2. If there is a pair on the board, and you don’t have a full house or trips, you should fold.

3. If there is a possible straight on the board, and you don’t have a draw for a better hand, you should fold.

River play is pretty much the same as turn play. The one difference is that if there isn’t three low cards on the board there will be no low hand. This is the rare situation where a bluff is possible. If it looks like your opponent was on the low hand draw and the board doesn’t qualify, you can bluff because your opponent will think you are on the high hand and you are going to scoop the hand. They are forced to fold. For this reason, unlike Hold’em, folding hands on the river is common in Omaha 8.

One thing to keep in mind is getting quartered. A common example would be if you and another player have A2. The board qualifies low hand and you end up splitting low while a third player wins half the pot with high hand. You end up losing money even though you have a winning hand. There isn’t really a defense against getting quartered; it’s not like you can fold a winning hand. It’s usually a small loss, but the rule of thumb is to continue to raise if there are four or more players in the hand. Getting quartered with four players in the hand usually proves to be profitable. If there are two or three players in the hand and you fear you are getting quartered just call and don’t raise.

That’s the basics for Omaha Hi/Low Split. Experience will teach you more than an article ever will, but this should get you ahead of the fish at least. Bigger pots make for bigger and faster profits, and playing Omaha 8 will give you a better chance to build your bankroll quickly. Remember that the looser the game the better, and a full Omaha 8 table is better than a short table every time.

 By Mark Turner

We’ve all been there. You’ve gotten to the point where you can’t take her anymore and it’s time to break it off. Yeah, it’s a sad story, blah, blah, blah. Every break-up has a reason for occurring, but that’s not what this article is about. When you no longer want to be with someone, the best thing to do is to go your separate ways. The thing about break-ups is that they have the potential to stall your life for years if they go badly; a little preparation can allow you to minimize the backlash and not have some woman hating you for the rest of her life.

Now I know this is an emotional time - no one looks forward to hurting a girl’s feelings, especially someone they’ve been with for awhile. But now is the time to keep your head and plan this event properly. How you go about doing this has the capability of hurting you in the future. A bad break-up is like a burning bridge that will slowly spread to every other bridge in town. Getting away clean is one of the slickest things a guy can do, and it’s worth the time and effort to deliver the message properly.

Location

The first thing you must consider is the proper environment in which to do the deed. Don’t be a bonehead and do it on a date at a restaurant or anywhere that you’re in a crowd. Think of a neutral place that’s secluded. Doing it at your place will make her want to flee and you’ll have no closure. If you do it at her place she is likely to throw you out, which will produce the same results. Parks or walks seem to work well; there are no reminders of the relationship around for her to look at, and it’s always good to have the ability to run away if she’s really upset at you. And you can’t do it over the phone; it never sticks until there’s a face-to-face exchange, and that’s the sort of move that will spread amongst the ladies.

Tell Her First

Make sure she finds out from you and not someone else. Don’t tell your buddies your plans before you do it. Word of a break-up spreads faster than a cold on a porn set. If you’ve been talking with a friend who helped you make this decision, ask that friend to shut their mouth until you break it off. You don’t want to be on the other side of a woman who knows you plan to hurt her, and has had time to prepare for it. Trust me on this one. If she has an important job, maybe you can do it on a Friday so she has some time before she has to go to work. Anything you can do to help her get over you will benefit you in the long run.

Prepare Your Logic

All conflicts are solved with logic. If you’re breaking up with her there is at least one reason, and most likely numerous reasons, why you are doing it. Prepare what you are going to say in a manner that will allow her to see your point of view. She should know this is a difficult thing for you to do, but because of the logic you have prepared, it’s best for both of you to part ways. She knows the two of you are having problems - convince her the best solution is not to be together. Saying something like “I’m just not in love with you” or “I need to be alone in my life for awhile” can ease the blow and place the blame on some deficiency you have, instead of something being wrong with her. It’s to the point, and can’t be argued with - it’s how you feel, not what she did or didn’t do. Swallowing your pride for your freedom is a small price to pay.

Sever It, and Stick to It

Once you’ve managed to break it off and step away from the scene of the crime, you can’t look back. That means not taking phone calls from her. And if her messages are about personal things you might have of hers, you must make sure she gets everything that she could possibly claim as hers. Get it to her however you can without meeting with her. Most women will make sure the two of you “happen” to be in the same place within the first two weeks of the break-up. Don’t attempt to have a discussion with her like you’re interested in how she’s doing. Get out of there and don’t look back. If you find yourself cornered, tell her that you need to eliminate her from your life for awhile in order to get over her. Any prolongation of the break-up will cause confusion and wipe out any progress you have made to that point. It may seem cruel, but complete separation is the fastest way for her to get over you. Be strong and walk away.

Breaking up is never easy to do. We have a habit of including specifics when we’re in this situation, when all it calls for is a simple message of departure. Generalize the situation and use logic to help her understand that this is the best thing for her too. Consider her feelings as much as you can and there will be far fewer repercussions now, and in the future. After all, every relationship we have ends in failure except one or two; treat the break-up like a new beginning and it won’t be such a difficult thing to experience.

By Mark Turner 

As much as we would all like to meet that sweet girl at the market or church, most of us cruise the bar scene when it’s time to meet some ladies. Even though more and more people are meeting on the internet, the local dance club isn’t about to be affected by the global village any time soon. So even if you’re a computer geek, learning some bar-cruising skills is a must if you want to have any luck with the ladies. 

Basic bar skills haven’t changed in decades. Women have been attracted to the same qualities and actions in men for as long as we’ve been a species. The bar is only the current environment for the oldest dance on earth. And how you present yourself is the key to getting lucky. Some guys are born with a natural ability to dazzle the babes, but for some cruel reason not all of us are that fortunate. However, humanity is highly adaptable, and we have the ability to study and learn which habits work best. Over the years I’ve managed to compile a few basic tactics which will usually produce success, and I’m sure they will help any guy that puts them to the test.  

Approach is what this game is all about. It’s not like your personality will become endearing to her over time. You’re in a bar, and if the first impression doesn’t stick then you’re done. That’s why wives and long-time girlfriends always refer to the time they met their man. It’s a far-more-important event to them than it is to us, so some careful thought prior to the approach can make all the difference.  

If you play by these rules things should go much smoother for you . . . 

- Confident is fine, but arrogance is death. Feeling good about yourself shows women that you are mentally stable and have a low degree of fear in your life, very attractive traits to any woman. If you have low self-esteem you have to start to pretend that you feel the opposite way, even if it’s a lie. The funny thing about confidence is that if you fake it long enough, it will actually become the truth. (Just in case you don’t already know, that works for just about anything). Arrogance, on the other hand, shows you are insecure, and any girl who’s known a guy like that in her past will brush you off like an eyelash.  

- Relaxed vs. aggressive. Just because you see a girl you like doesn’t mean you just walk up and start rapping her up. She will know instantly that you’re only interested in her body. Yes I know that’s all you’re interested in, but she’s not supposed to know that. So to get around this there needs to be some sort of response from her that signals it’s ok to get close. The trick is to make subtle contact instead of direct contact first. Buy her a drink through the bartender or waitress, or make eye contact more than once with her. Don’t look her up and down, just eye contact and maybe a smile. My uncle always said that if you catch her looking at you three times the coast is clear to approach. This gives her a sense of control, and it also has a feel of being courted. Either way you take away the element of invasion she might feel when you attempt a cold introduction without getting her blood flowing first. 

- Focus vs. bouncing. Instead of bouncing from girl to girl if you don’t find immediate success, take the time to work slowly on just one or two girls. If the girls notice you’re barking up every babe in the bar like a hungry dog, you might as well leave and try your luck elsewhere. Any girl whose eye you might have caught will watch your pathetic desperate wandering. So instead pick one or two girls to flirt with, and slowly try to meet them. If they notice you’re perhaps about to connect with another girl, then the natural competitiveness will kick in and it will increase your chances. She’ll then want to get closer to you just because she thinks she’s better than the other girl. If you’re showing interest in multiple other girls it will dilute the jealousy factor and just make you look desperate. 

- Be involved in the moment. Don’t stand in the shadows waiting to catch the eye of a girl. Have fun with your friends and enjoy yourself. If you are in a group, have time for everyone, especially if one of her friends comes around while you’re chatting her up. It shows you’re not focused on getting her into bed (I know, I know). You want to make it appear that the two of you met while having a good time, as if by chance, not while you were on a mission. So be nice to everyone around, and not just her. Save the pick-up lines for the cheeseball guys and the movies. Any line that will work on one girl most likely will fail on another. And besides, pick-up lines are just lame. Once you start to behave this way you should find an immediate difference in how you’re received. Women want to feel special, and trying to pick her up the same way every other guy does will not achieve that. If you’re willing to spend the entire evening chasing down every girl in the club, maybe you could try a more subtle approach on one or two girls. When these subtle methods don’t work on a particular girl, then you know that she’s not into you, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The subtle approach allows you to learn that she’s not into you without having to embarrass yourself with an awkward conversation.  

It’s like the difference between two salesmen who are selling the same product. One of them puts up a sign advertising his product. When he gets a call he knows the caller is already interested in what they’ve seen and he can try and make the sale to an interested buyer. The other guy tries to sell door-to-door and spends the day facing one rejection after another, just because his approach is invasive and unsolicited. 

By Dean Stone 

If you’ve decided to step up your poker skills there are many ways you can achieve this.  Over the last couple of years the poker industry has put out countless tools which can make your game better. 

From books to software to DVD’s, if you wish to get better at poker the tools are out there at your disposal.  Any boom like this poker boom will also create some poor products, so there is a bit of “buyer beware”.  Here’s a list of some good poker tools that you can actually use to improve your game. 

Books 

The first and foremost type of poker tool is the poker book, and it’s my opinion that it’s still the best type out there.  In the past, good poker strategy books numbered in the single digits.  Today there are many good poker books to choose from for the beginner or the skilled player.  I haven’t read every poker book out there, but I have read a lot of them, so here’s a short list of the ones I consider to be the best. 

Beginner 

1.  “Super System” by Doyle Brunson and friends.Super System has long been the bible for beginning poker players, since the 1970s.  For many years the book could only be purchased underground for $100.  Then the poker boom made it a very profitable work to publish.  Doyle teaches all the basics for good poker, including the most important part of the game; aggression.  Playing good poker is about more than Holdem skills, and Super System covers numerous variations by the experts of the time.   

2.  “

Forty-five minutes before closing time I looked around and saw lovebirds tucked into booths, crusty regulars lined up at the bar, band groupies swaying and gyrating on the dance floor, and tons of schmucks just like me. Fuck, I was horny. The prospect of pussy was really the only reason I’d gone out that evening.

Guess I wasn’t alone. The ratio of guys to girls in the club was like three-to-one. Since Irene dumped me, I’d endured two months of miserable, self-imposed, pathetic celibacy. Tonight I was finally ready to end it, and so far I hadn’t met anyone. I was desperate.

Then I saw her, mixing drinks behind the back bar, setting up shot after shot. She had long, honey-blond hair and an angel’s smile, delicate shoulders topping curves stacked on top of curves. I imagined her big, lush titties wrapped around my throbber and kind of got lost in her cleavage for a minute. When I looked up, she was staring back at me. “Last call,” she announced, but what I heard was, “Fuck me!”

With single-minded devotion, I stuck to my barstool till closing time, chatting the beauty up and watching her work. And I noticed the way she worked: methodically lining up the glasses from tall to small, exactly the same amount in every single shot, never a spill. Anyway, I got lucky. By the time the lights came on, she’d agreed to come home with me.

During the trip, Kelli brought up what she called her obsessive-compulsive disorder, telling me how she always had to do the same thing the same way—her way— over and over till she got it perfect. She said it applied to everything: bartending, exercising…“Even cocksucking!” she added with a smile. I pressed down on the gas till I was doing 60 in a 35.

Inside my apartment, Kelli immediately took over, dropping to her knees on the living room floor. In seconds my pants and briefs were puddled around my ankles, and she was kissing her way up my leg, inch by inch—32 kisses, she told me later—till her swirling tongue reached my ball sac and went to town. My pecker was reaching for my belly button by the time she sucked one fat nad into her mouth and gently nursed on it. I closed my eyes as Kelli moved from one jewel to the other, nibbling, lapping, sucking. Soon she had a fist stroking my hard-on and a finger teasing my anus. Damn, this girl was good!

I was going to come if Kelli didn’t stop. In fact, I was about to nudge the chick back when I remembered what she’d said about needing to do things her way. I stopped, and my patience was rewarded. A minute later her tongue traced a trail up my shaft, stopping only to dip into my piss slit. My eyes opened again to the sight of Kelli gazing up at me as she let long strands of spittle drizzle all over my cock. Fuck!

Slowly, slowly the gorgeous blonde sucked my crown between her lips and then the shaft, inch by inch. Every few seconds she stopped, her cheeks hollowed with suction, her hands nimbly squeezing my teabags. Oh, I’d experienced good blowjobs before, but nothing like this. Everything Kelli did seemed calculated, to keep me on the edge. As soon as my rod was totally engulfed, a wiggling finger went to work on my butt again while her mouth worked its magic.

It seemed to take forever, an eternity of bliss, for her BJ to build enough speed to match the rhythm of her ass-frigging. As soon as they were in sync, she jammed a finger in deep, tickling my prostate till I experienced the climax of a lifetime!

Incredibly attentive, Kelli licked my equipment squeaky-clean before standing up and asking, “So how was that?”

I thought about what she’d said earlier about doing the same thing over and over, her way, till she got it perfect, and I struggled to keep my voice steady as I answered, “It was…okay.”

With the same angelic smile I’d seen at the bar, Kelli immediately dropped to her knees and began kissing her way from my ankles to my ball sac.

—T.F.

Algoma Mills, ON

SEX BUZZ

Jon’s long, thick cock stood fully erect. Fat and beautiful, it glistened with my spit. I took one last loving lick from his nut sac all the way up to his piss slit. Then I crawled on top of the boy, rubbing my titties, my belly, my fuzz on his shaft before finally guiding his dick cap between my labes. Mmmm. Damn, that felt good! His slammer filled me up  completely. It was bigger and better than any I’d ever had. Then again, in my 22 years I’d only had three, but still…

We were crammed into the back camper shell of a pickup truck, with Jon’s friend Alan behind the wheel, driving us back from Canada. Every time that pickup hit a bump, my head hit the top of the camper shell, Jon’s dick hit my clit, and sparks exploded in my pussy.

I’d only met Jon two days earlier. I’d been thumbing and bumming across Canada for a couple of months—my college graduation present to myself—and Jon and Allen had picked me up over by Ottawa. It wasn’t until we were about half an hour from the border at Niagara that I found out about the hashish the boys had stowed in the side panels. Stupid fucks. That’s what my head said, but for some reason, the danger turned my body on, made my cunt gush like the fuckin’ falls.

Up till now my life had been completely sedate, totally boring: Catholic girls’ school, followed by some tiny backwoods religious college my parents had found, straight-A student, president of the debate club. Boring! If only my parents could see me now.

Ten minutes from the border, Jon was suckling on one of my titty buds, his fat fuckstick jamming into my quim. I was so close. I could feel the climax welling up in me. Then, all of a sudden, whack! Jon’s hand landed hard on my ass. “Fuck, yes, Jon, spank me! I’m such a bad girl!” Well, I wanted to be a bad girl. His palm landed again and again, one butt cheek, then the other, then my ass crack. I could feel my flesh burn red-hot. Still, he didn’t let up. Smack, smack, smack! And I was coming all over his big cock, my girl jizz streaming over his nut sac. Whack! Jon didn’t stop, and my orgasm went multiple! Who knew sex could be this fuckin’ good?!

I was seriously delirious—moaning, crying out, pounding his chest. My hot  pussy clutched his jackhammer over and over till suddenly the boy went rigid, and I felt his warm semen splash deep inside me.

That’s when the camper door was flung open, and we blinked against the sunlight, into the eyes of a customs official. He blinked back at a couple of naked kids fucking right in front of him. I don’t know—maybe this was all a part of Jon’s plan—to distract the powers-that-be from the drugs.

I guess it worked, ’cause that customs official just asked us the usual citizenship and purpose-of-visit questions, made us dig out our passports and sent us on our merry way. The whole time he was smirking, probably thinking about the story he was going to tell his wife that night, about the sex it might inspire. My heart was pounding in my throat. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt quite so scared, exhilarated and alive—all at the same time!

Jon and I celebrated with a big bowl of hashish, a little pussy-licking and a blowjob. I had never been a fan of 69ing. I’d always found both sex acts at once too distracting. But that day—and maybe it was the hash buzz—everything slowed down enough for me to concentrate on every single cock-lick, enjoy every single clit-flick. We took our time, lapping and licking all the way to Buffalo. Jon climaxed once—I rocketed over the top three more times!

I said goodbye to the boys at the Greyhound depot, and we promised to e-mail. Then I climbed aboard the bus and sank back into my seat for some sweet, much-needed sleep.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m definitely not suggesting smuggling to anyone! And I’m sure as fuck not crazy enough to try it again, but I’m so glad I did it once. It was dangerously exciting. Fact is, I’m masturbating as I write this. Hope you are too.

—F.A.

Salt Springs, NS

GROPES ON THE SLOPES

My weekend trip to Banff, Alberta, was unforgettable. Being confined to a wheelchair due to a recent forklift accident, I insisted on not going, but my friends Les and Wood wouldn’t take no for an answer. They agreed that I’d find something to do. Our wake-up call rang at 8 a.m. Saturday morning, and fresh powder carpeted the hills. While my buddies headed out for an early snowboard run, I sat above the slopes, checking out the view. What I saw was an awe-inspiring pair of white mountains that belonged to Inez, the lodge’s groundskeeper.

“Mornin’!” I nodded in her direction, hoping she’d respond. She was crammed into a pair of tan Dickies that proudly hugged her vivacious rump. Her workman shirt was unbuttoned halfway, exposing deep, creamy cleavage that made me as hard as an icicle. I was mesmerized. All I could think about was titty-fucking her and spraying my nut curd all over those babies. “You must be cold stiff,” she said, interrupting my daydream but, thankfully, acknowledging my presence. Still in a daze, I smiled, not realizing that she was referring to the tent pitched on my lap. By the time I figured out what the observant smart-ass meant, she was behind my gimpmobile, pushing me toward a huge pine tree. “Uh, what are you doing?” I inquired, like an idiotic schoolboy. “You need to be warmed up,” the curly-haired brunette quipped. She stared at me with her big, green, Bambilike eyes, waiting for my comeback. An unwitty, “Definitely” was all I could spit out.

As soon as I was parked, the ski lodge seductress pulled down her khakis and climbed aboard my chair, placing her knees on the armrests. She gently laid her snatch on my mouth while her fragrant bush flooded my nostrils. The horny ginch grinded her hips slowly, which then progressed to her gyrating in a circular motion. By this time, my entire face was masked in her caramel-flavored punani sauce. I looked up to enjoy the view of her perfectly round and erect nipples, which were just as hard as my salami. I extended both hands to massage her milky tits; she moaned with pleasure. The fat-racked beauty’s melons felt unbelievably fuckable, which made me want to nestle my schwang between them even more.

My momentary daydream came to a halt when the sopping-wet broad slowly turned, giving me a chance to tongue-fuck her out hole. I salivated like a starved heifer at a Krispy Kreme doughnut shop. The primo snow bunny stuck her fulsome ass cheeks in my face, practically burying my entire head between them. I didn’t mind, mostly because she was the nurturing type of bitch: She reached back, gently pressing and carressing my noggin deeper into her heinie’s crack. Using the second-strongest muscle in my body, I licked and prodded her bum spigot with full concentration, rimming her sphincter in a spiral pattern. The excitable cutie squirmed with delight aloft my happy face and tossed her tresses about, priming me for the booby-fuck of my life.

The sex-crazed nympho slid off my grill and turned around. The bare-assed sex goddess pulled down my pants, uncovering my veiny lap mallet. This clever fox knew the art of deception: She worked her plummy pudenda up and down my shaft, making me believe she was going to plunder it with her baby hole. After she had slickened my snake, the big-teated tease bent down and squeezed her lungs together tightly, creating the most inviting chest ventage I’ve ever seen. The booby-fuck specialist carefully inserted my dong and moved up and down steadily; her sweater meat massaged my aching scrotum pole like 1,000 warm, tiny fingers. The praiseworthy slattern encouraged my excitement with a big smile. My prick throbbed in anticipation of the blast to come, but I wanted to enjoy the best breast sex of my life a little longer. After 15 minutes of titty tobagganing, the thirsty slut picked up speed, bouncing up and down faster, till I could hold it no more. Guiding her mouth directly over my swizzle stick, I urgently jettisoned my ball ballast, sending shivers up my broken spine. The salacious groundskeeper quaffed down every drop; she even sucked the remaining dollops off my wee-wee.

After our satisfying sexcapade, the stacked trollop wheeled me back to where we met and went back to work as if nothing happened. I am glad I decided to go on this trip, and I had to thank my friends for insisting that I tag along. Although I didn’t get to snowboard with Les and Wood, I sure enjoyed slopes of a better kind.

—J.D.

Fort Macleod, AB

By Dean Stone 

Not everyone is looking for long-lasting meaningful relationships.  Let’s face it, “married with children” isn’t something most of today’s generation even considers until close to, or well into, their thirties.  That’s around 15 years of maturity before the average guy settles down. 

There may be some cultures in the world where single males are able to keep their libido in check, but around here we need a good ol’ One Night Stand to make us feel better about ourselves every now and then.  So we spend the weekends looking for the perfect encounter where we can pick up a babe and turn it into a memorable night of whatever she’s willing to do with us. 

Now if you end up really liking the person you’ve met that’s great, but One Night Stand usually means that you don’t want to see the person again after the evening of fun has ended.  I’ve made just about every wrong move there is when it comes to the ladies, so maybe I can share some things that will prevent this from happening to you.  I’ll also share some tips on how you can get yourself out of some common tight spots that may occur throughout your evening or morning after. 

Rule No. 1 is to make sure there are no links to you.  If you hook up with your buddy’s girlfriend’s sister’s roommate, you’re screwed.  She will be able to find you with ease and you will suddenly become a jerk among half of your circle of friends.  Not to mention how word will get around to other girls about how insensitive you are; blah, blah, blah.  Keep the One Night Stand within the realm of strangers, so that by the time you run into them again it won’t matter anymore.  Just don’t be dumb enough to go back to the same spot where you met her within a couple of weeks of the hookup.  So it’s probably a good idea to go to a different bar other than your usual hangouts to pick up, so your life isn’t disrupted too much while you’re in avoidance mode. 

So if you’ve gotten lucky enough to talk your way out of the bar or wherever, and it’s time to get a room, make sure that it’s not your room you end up in.  Once again, if she knows where you live there’s a link to you.  Sometimes the heat of the moment causes us to think with the little guy, but you must keep this important factor in your mind.  Tell her that it has to be her place because you have three roommates and they’re all pigs – whatever it takes – even if you have to pony up for a hotel room.  Stay out of your own backyard.  Most girls will feel more comfortable about being in a place they’re familiar with anyway, so it’s usually an easy sell to head to their place. 

If its booty you have on the brain, you should be focused on that and that alone.  Don’t overindulge in the booze or you’ll find yourself having to chew your arm off in the morning.  Many of us have been in that situation where the girl you met, and went to sleep with, does not look like the girl that you just woke up next to.  If you don’t get too loaded this won’t happen.  Getting hammered is better saved for the football game and hanging with the boys.  Being too drunk will only make the task at hand more difficult.  Your drunkenness will chase away all the “hotties” or it will attract overly aggressive women who will certainly be looking to cuddle and chat about your next date together in the morning.  Besides, it’s no fun if you can’t remember it. 

Every woman I’ve ever had a One Night Stand with always plays the “I never do this sort of thing” routine.  This is an important moment in the encounter because she is closely watching your reaction.  It doesn’t matter whether her statement is true or not, what matters is how you react to the statement.  Don’t snicker or laugh at this comment because she will feel that you don’t respect her, and the entire event will be in jeopardy.  Even the most liberal chicks have an internal struggle with having a One Night Stand.  Take this opportunity to make her feel better.  Tell her you never do this either, but you’re so attracted to her that you just can’t help yourself.   

As your time together transpires, try and remember not to give away too much information about yourself.  One simple conversation about a hobby or interest of yours will give her a way to “bump into you” some day.  Think about what you’re saying and try and keep the topic on how attractive you think she is.  If the topic is on her, your story will not come up.  If it does come up, keep the information to general terms.  You work at a bank, not the Royal Bank on

.  Get it?   

So you played your cards right and the night went off according to plan.  You followed the rules and you woke up at her place.  Now all you have to do is get out of there with out major incident.  There are many theories on how to quietly get out of a bed, but I’ve found the roll-and-crawl method to be the best there is.  If she happens to wake up to see you crawling towards the door, just say that you’re looking for your pants or a contact lens.  If you’re successful at getting clear of the bedroom unnoticed, you have to act fast. 

If you’re lucky no will be up and you can leave unseen.  If you do run into a roommate of hers, make sure you don’t use your real name.  If no one is up yet, the best place to find the address of where you are is on the refrigerator.  Most people post a bill of some kind on the fridge and you can get the address to tell the taxi or one of your buddies that might be willing to come and get you.  Don’t get caught rooting through things looking for the address; it’s easier to just walk to the nearest street corner and read the sign. 

In the event that she gets up before you, there’s nothing you can do other than facing her and trying to create a conversation that will allow the two of you to part with the smallest amount of awkwardness as possible.  It’s a good idea to ask her what time it is and then pretend to be very late for another commitment.  

Remember to ask for her number before she can ask you for yours.  Giving a false number is too spineless even for me, but asking for hers eliminates this issue altogether.  She gets some gratification and is able to tell her girlfriends that you asked for her number, and you walk out with no link to you in existence.  

One important thing to consider is discussing all of this information with your buddies.  You can run the cleanest One Night Stand possible, but if your buddy picks up your chick’s best friend, your future lies in his hands.  He will end up giving out some sort of info to the friend, and the next thing you know you’re on a double-date watching some agonizing chick flick on a Saturday night.  Pass this article to your buddies and create a pact within your group that double-hookups require no-link practices. 

Having a One Night Stand is difficult to pull off at the best of times.  Having a flawless one is rare and can only be achieved through careful preparation.  Remember that it’s all about giving no information on how you can be found in the future, so that you can decide whether your new friend is someone you’d like to see again.  Remember to treat her like a lady. She wants the same thing as you, but for some reason society makes it tougher on her to action that impulse. 

As irresponsible as this article may be, I must say a word on safe sex.  One night stands are only cool when there are two willing participants who are practicing safe sex.  Wrap it up boys; life’s too short for that kind of stupidity.  Make sure you hit the drug store before you hit the clubs. 

Don’t count on the ladies to have condoms.  They never do this sort of thing, remember.