Don’t give them your power

Life often seems like a never ending series of insults, slights and people doing you wrong. Of course, there are moments of bliss. It isn’t all grief and discontentment. But it is human nature for us to focus on the insults and forget all of the compliments. The 99 nice things people say to you are quickly lost and forgotten, but the 1 single insult is still remembered and burns like acid for years.

I am certainly guilty of it myself. All the nice things that people have said to me over the years? They ARE nice, and I do appreciate them, don’t get me wrong. But what one really remembers, what irks like an infected splinter, is the one bad thing someone said to me a year ago. You keep going back over the incident, rehashing it in your mind, what you could have said, how you could have showed them, put them in their place, you wish a plague on their firstborn and a raging case of athlete’s feet.

But one too many years marinating in a resentment stew was starting to make me bitter. And I didn’t like the way I tasted bitter. I was letting people camp out rent free in my head. I was going back to them doing me wrong, over and over, fixating and obsessing on their rudeness, meanness and general faults as a human being. I was giving them my power. They were winning by how much of my energy they were getting. So I kicked them to the curb. Those mooching freeloaders were not paying rent and did not deserve any of my head space.

I am not saying turn the other cheek and be a passive pushover, far from it. I have strong and healthy boundaries and I feel zero guilt about enforcing them. There is no need to accept trolling and mean spirited energy in your life. But when I see myself start to spiral into distress, fretting over insults and people doing me wrong, I check myself. I reclaim my power. Endlessly focusing on all the ways that people have done me wrong was draining me.

Hey, if arguing is your thing and you get off on it, who am I to suggest you stop? If endlessly prowling the internet looking for people to debate and insult and get those verbal digs in makes you feel all tingly inside, have at it. Just don’t do it at me or I will block your ass so fast your head will spin. I am not one of those people that pop powerful internet boners at taking someone apart and victoriously belittling them. The people that want to play that way can go play over there ——> away from me.

And if one day you realize that your resentment and anger is poisoning you and making your flavor bitter, I encourage you to do what I do and put that shit down. It isn’t healthy. I am not saying it is easy. That resentment and frustration has a sneaky way of creeping back into my hand…I look down and see it clenched in a white knuckled grip. And so I set it down again. I let it go. I take a deep breath. And then I like the way I feel these days. I can feel the bitterness drain out. I reclaim my power. I kick the free loading trolls out of my head. They are not welcome here.

Try it for yourself. You might like it, you never know until you try 😀

Food for thought and lots of love,

They can’t save you

It is the stuff of Hollywood movies and endless books and articles. We grow up on the concept. It is fed to us from birth. The concept that your soul mate, your “better half”, is somehow going to come along someday and save you from yourself. That miracle person that is going to make your life so much better that the two of you are bleeding bliss and leaking rainbows of joy out of every orifice, locked in happiness.

What a horrible burden to lay on someone. What a recipe for disaster and disappointment. What could possibly go wrong with such a concept…other than everything?

Nobody can save you from yourself. And expecting them to do so will only end up in misery every single time.

Of course life is easier for most of us with a partner. A team mate. Someone to hang out with, talk to, fuck, cuddle, someone to support you through the good times and bad. Financially, mentally, emotionally and sexually, most of us find that life easier with a partner. Of course.


When you are walking around like a raw open wound, unable to deal with the endless grief that is simply functioning on this planet, and you are expecting your partner to be the hero to rescue you from yourself? Not only will your partner always let you down and not fix your wound, 100% of the time, but you can end up resenting them for failing to rescue you. And that resentment is a toxic killer that destroys relationships every single time.

So you move on to the next partner!! THIS is going to be the one! THIS is the one that will fix everything! But they don’t. They never do. They can not. And so the cycle continues. Over and over. You are never rescued. The other half always disappoints and you are always left wanting. The Hollywood myth of romance is just that, a myth.

Drop the myth. Do not expect that miracle person to come along and save you from yourself. Save your own damn self. And once you are not that raw open wound in desperate need of a band-aide, once you are not looking to be rescued, you will find that relationships get a hell of a lot easier and more satisfying. True story.

Rejection sucks

The common myth is that guys are the ones that do all of the asking and women are the ones that lie back in the pussy position of privilege, accepting or denying as they see fit.

That is a damn myth.

You think women never get rejected for sex? Not hardly. I have been rejected for sex enough times that I can’t even keep track of it at this point. You ask a guy and he passes on the offer. I am not universally appealing just because I have a vagina to sit on. Or if a guy DOES agree to fuck you, once he gets his dick wet he never talks to you again. It is one and done as if you two had never seen each other naked and sweaty.

Women get rejected all the damn time. It is not an exclusive situation to men. And yes, rejection sucks. I get it. I get it from personal experience. But worse than rejection is not being clear and honest about your intentions to others and approaching them with ulterior motives under the guise of friendliness. “Friendliness” with an ulterior motive isn’t friendly. It is manipulation.

Sex with others is not a right, it is a privilege. And when you approach other people operating under the assumption that if you do enough things at them, are “nice” enough, “put enough time in”, that the payoff with be sex and or a relationship, you are just setting yourself up for disappointment and resentment.

When you do not get the payoff of sex or a relationship as a “reward” for all of your hard efforts, you start to resent the person you were being “nice” at. They did not follow along with the script that you wrote for them in your head.

Only problem is that other people have free will and do not follow along with scripts that you write for them. Operating under the assumption that people will somehow owe you something if you do the right things at them is a a breeding ground for disappointment. And disappointment is a bitter flavor that turns people off.

Be clear and direct with your desires and then accept whatever the outcome is, no matter what it might be. Sailing under false flags or expecting that other people’s sexy time attention is your inherent right and privilege isn’t going to take you terribly far…



Earning it

We all have things we want. Desire is the driving force of human beings. I am full of desire myself. There are countless things that I want and crave. But here is the thing: I am not entitled to them. I am honestly entitled to very little in this life.

I am basically entitled to not have others touch me if I do not wish to be touched by them. My body is my own domain. I am not entitled to much else. (there are some people out there that do not agree with this concept. I wish to stab such people with a rusty fork)

I am not entitled to a job.
I am not entitled to sex with others.
I am not entitled to anyone else’s time, energy or attention.
All those things are delightful to have, but they are not *guaranteed.*

I have to EARN those things. I earn them by being polite, engaging, fun, respectful and a desirable person to spend time with. The less I am an asshole the more it seems that other people want to interact with me.

It is no guarantee, of course. I would like to get everything I want from others at all times. I would like bucketloads of respect and admiration and every single person I ever meet thinking I am so fabulous that I sweat glitter. Who wouldn’t?

But that isn’t how it works. Not matter how awesome I might try and be, not everyone in the world will like my particular flavor. And not every single people in the world that I want to have sex with will throw their genitals at me in awe at my sexiness.

And that is ok. I accept that. I have found out that the nicer and more respectful I am to other people the more that they do the same to me. You get in what you put out. I am paying forward the energy I wish to get from others. It doesn’t always work, but it is a darn sight better than being a miserable toxic negative person. Festering in a negative stew has always felt pretty shitty me.

People also have the right to change their mind about your flavor at any time. It is called free will. Sometimes someone that thought I was awesome stops thinking so. I also accept that. It might make me sad, but I accept it. I can’t expect that just because something was one way at one point it will always be like that. That isn’t how life works.

Me? I am just going to sit here and work on being less of an asshole. I am a work in progress. I have good days and bad days. Like we all do. But I never give up.

The secret of the dick

At this point in my life, I can safely say I have been around some dick in my day. One might go so far as to say that I am a bit of a cock wrangler. As in, I know me some dick. And today I am going to impart some cock knowledge upon you. The big one. The one that everyone stresses about. Are you ready? Here goes:

**Dicks are not light switches. They do not have only two modes, off and on.**

But people seem to think that that is the only two ways that cock comes. Hard or soft. On or off. Ready or offline. And the trauma if you want it hard and it does not cooperate? The horror. The misery.

I actually feel sorry for guys. On the whole, they are so dick centric that it is cock or GTFO. Dick dick dick and nothing else. Me? Just about everything makes me cum. My whole body is a sexual smorgasbord. I have cum from having my toes sucked on, fisting someone’s ass, getting my hipbone licked, getting my calves caned, watching other people fuck…the world is my sexual oyster. Men? If the dick isn’t in the “on” position they don’t seem to know what to do with themselves.

Folks? It isn’t all about the dick. The dick has a mind of its own. You can not control the dick. It will be hard, soft, semi, working, ignoring you, hard as a rock in front of your grandma at Christmas and squishy pudding in front of that hot girl that you crave sawing in half with your cock. It is not to be counted on.

But men can’t talk about these things. As far as they can tell, they are the only ones with a dick that they can’t control. Every other male out there is just a rampant battering ram that is busy tattooing his initials on every available cervix.

Us women? We know better. We are the ones hanging out with the cock, we know how it goes. We don’t stress on dick half as much as men do. I have seen dick in all of its states. And I love it every which way. If you are not presenting as a battle ax ready to do some serious damage, you have fingers, tongues and best of all, your mind. Get creative! Free yourself from the limits of the cock box. There is more to you than just a dick.

And while none of us can control the dick, women can help. My biggest secret is using one of my hands to form an impromptu cock ring at the base of the dick to help trap blood while giving a blowjob. If he is semi, see if you two can’t get it harder. If it is hard and fades, get that mouth and hands to work. And if the dick takes a vacation and is unavailable, don’t stress on it. Lord knows I don’t. If we aren’t banging today, we will probably be banging tomorrow. And as it is, I am naked and hanging out with someone I like. That isn’t a bad way to spend the day, no matter what happens…

Soft, hard and everything in between

Soft, hard and everything in between

Thirsty fucks

Of COURSE women want the sex. Of course of course. Mad passionate fierce pulse pounding sex. Epic earth shattering sex. Sweaty messy undignified fucking. We love all those things just as much as men do.

So why does the dance always seem like it is the men doing all the asking and the women doing all the rejecting?

Because women have a lot more to lose. It really is as simple as that. They are putting a lot more on the table.

*Women are at a higher risk of STIs (the receiving partner in any encounter always is)
*Women are the ones that carry the burden of possible pregnancy, not men.
*And women tend to have up to a half a foot and a 100 pound weight disadvantage on men. In any encounter, if the other person has a 100 pounds on you, you will be erring on the side of caution.
*I am not even going to get started on the societal shaming if a woman has a healthy sex drive.

If men were the ones that got knocked up, had their junk go all spotty and drippy and every time they turned on the news another male body had been found dumped dead in a field, they might not be always charging around, penis blazing, seeking wet holes.

But that isn’t how life is. Women are the ones that have to deal with those cards. Not men. So we go slow. We take our time. We do not rush. What do we have to gain by rushing into things? Not much, to be perfectly honest. We take our time to see if what it is you are proposing is worth the possible risk.

And you know what? If we decide what you are offering isn’t worth the risk, we pass and move on. You are peddling a product in a flooded market. There is a ton of dick out there. High risk and low reward dick. Your dick is the 10th one we have been offered today. And there will be another one hopefully poking about right behind it.

So how do you make *YOUR* dick stand out from the crowd?

Here is a crazy thought: How about treating her as a human being as opposed to just a wet receiving hole?

When you take the time to get to know her, make her comfortable, see what makes her tick, all those walls come down. And once those protective walls are down, the holes are yours. By all means, make her your groveling 3 holes cum dump (if that is what you have both consented to)

But you have to earn the right to those holes. If all you are doing if popping up with a “here is a dick” offer, you are not standing out in the flooded cock market. And your odds are pretty damn low. And then sometimes men get bitter and pissy that their needs are not getting met and they flounce about crankily muttering about how women are all stuck up prudes that just need to relax a little and have some fun for once.

Dude. You are cock blocking your own damn selves sometimes. Come on now.

Put in your time, you get the pussy. Don’t put in the time, much less pussy. It is that simple. Good luck on your journey!


How DO you do it??

Of all the emails I get, one of the most common ones goes along the lines of “How do you do it? You are in such good shape and so flexible! (I am not. I have a completely fused spinal cord. But that is a different story.) What is your secret??

As if I have discovered a secret magic path of being in shape and flexible. Well, I am about to show you the way! The secret will be revealed! Behold. You can now throw every diet book away. Just follow the (not) patented Rain DeGrey way to a toned midsection. Are you ready? Here goes nothing:

Eat right and exercise.

Yup. That is it. I work out every single day and watch what I eat. That is my sole secret.

Does working out daily and living on rice sound dreadful and not worth the effort? Perhaps to some. But the funny thing is that the better I take care of myself the better I feel. It becomes self reinforcing. The more I take my vitamins, eat organic everything and get my stretching in, the better my body feels and the more I want to take care of it.

Your body is the only one you have. Unlike cars, you don’t get to do a trade in and upgrade to a newer model. When I don’t work out and eat like shit, I feel like shit. It is that simple. I am highly motivated to take care of the vehicle that I will be stuck in until the day I shuffle off this mortal coil.

Plus. Abs!

Follow my not trademarked secret and who knows? You just might find yourself with more energy, a smaller clothing size and a happier body. Give it a try 🙂

As always,



Zombie gangbang

They are coming for you...

They are coming for you…


Emily was a very very good girl with very dark desires. A childhood spent in an extremely conservative Christian family had given her a raging sense of guilt about all of the perverse things she craved. It was a quandary. Which is how she ended up hatching the plan of a raping zombie gangbang.

“Because I have always wanted to do a gangbang, but still feel weird about it but if I do it with zombies it wouldn’t really COUNT, see?” She explained with me with eager wide-open impish eyes. I was convinced. If my dear friend needed me to dress up as a zombie to assuage her guilt about wanting to be forcibly gang banged, who was I to say no?

This wasn’t going to be any kind of half-assed zombie gangbang either, we took this sort of thing SERIOUSLY. As one should. The gangbang group, three men and three women in total, got a professional makeup artist to airbrush our faces, and they went so far as glue torn rubber gloves onto us to get that all important peeling rotten skin look. Thrift stores were raided to get the right kind of clothes that said “fresh outta the grave” and bloody handprints were plastered all over our torn clothing. My graveyard chic dress had two jaunty bloody handprints right over the front of it. Because boobs. The three girl zombies sported intimidating looking strap ons. We were ready to rape us some tender ex Christian flesh.

Emily was shoved into the medical room of our local dungeon behind a cardboard door held in place with generous amounts of duct tape. Bloody handprints trailed down the door and there was a “Warning! Biohazards! Caution!” sign affixed to the cardboard door. Like I said, we took our zombieing seriously. Once our quivering victim was deposited in the ruins of the zombie plague lab, it was raping time.

With a collective group run we busted down the cardboard door that was between us and our prey and lurched as one into the medical room, softly and hopefully muttering “braaaiinnns?” Emily was nowhere to be seen. Our deathly rattles died in our hoarse zombie throats as we scanned the compact little room. Still no Emily. Had we lost her somehow? Failed to actually seal her up in the room? Were we zombie gangbang failures?

Fear makes for some interesting situations, and somehow Emily had folded herself up as compact as flesh origami and wedged herself deeply in the upper recesses of the medical table. Once she was located, the pillaging was on. 12 decaying hands reached in and plucked her quivering ass out from the depths of the medical table. It was no easy feat and the first time I really realized just how hard it can be to put your penis in someone that was not cooperating with you. We managed to shred her clothing off in short order, but actual penetration eluded us. Emily was like trying to hold onto a bag of feisty snakes.

The small crowded room rapidly became moist with the breath of 7 panting people. There was no traction to be had and I felt as if I was in the middle of a particularly grueling session at the gym. The six of us evil zombies were slipping and sliding around in a treacherous mix of lube and blood and shredded clothing. Moans, groans and the muttering of “braiinnns” echoed deafeningly off of the walls, which had quickly become blood splattered and lube covered.

To be perfectly honest, it was not a particularly successful gangbang. Too many penises, not enough holes and our bag of holes was not holding particularly still. We were all winded and slimy hot between our glued on rubber gloves. And I was standing in a small room with a bunch of my friends all dressed up as walking corpses. At one point we all caught each other’s eyes and just started laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the whole situation and with that the scene came to a close.

But you know what? No regrets. If one of my friends needs to be raped by six zombies, I will step up to the plate and dish out some decaying dick. Anytime. That is just the kind of friend that I am.

You get no attention and your profile is a desert

This place is full of fakes and flakes!

Nobody is friendly.

What is the point of even bothering to log into your profile? You never get any messages anyway…

Does any of that familiar? We have all heard complaints like that before over the years on various online sites. And I am willing to bet that most of those are coming from men. Why is it that it is mostly men complaining about how little attention they are getting?

It isn’t just because being the owner of a pussy entitles you to endless truck loads of attention. It goes much deeper than that. There is a fundamental difference in how men and women interact online.

If you look at women, they are interacting in groups, having discussions and talking to both men AND women. The amount of activity they get naturally doubles as a result. It isn’t a pussy pass for attention, it is that they are free to easily interact with *both* genders.

As a man, how often you do strike up a conversation with some guy that you don’t know online? I am willing to hazard a guess that the amount is pretty darn low. Are most of the messages and interactions you seek with women? They probably are. And your messages get lost in the blizzard of messages that come women’s way on the daily. That isn’t the pussy pass of awesome attention, that is homophobia.

Why are men so deathly afraid to talk to each other? Why do men view any interactions with other males as opening themselves up to the accusation of being gay? You are cutting yourself off from fully half of the planet. Women seem like they are drowning in attention in comparison because they can talk to both women and men with ease and don’t worry about judgment.

Are the only people you are bothering to contact and try to get to know people that you want to have sex with? Because if that is the case, I bet I can tell you why your profile is so boring and you never get any emails.

Having a support structure is critical for one’s mental health. You need friends to talk to. You need someone to hear you out, celebrate your victories and mourn your defeats with. If the only people you are seeking to do that with are potential sheathes for your cock, you are going to give yourself friendship malnutrition. And malnutrition sucks. There is a wide world out there. It isn’t all just possible vagina. Give it a chance sometime.

Food for thought my friends.


Your barren profile

Your poor barren profile

God, drunken baby daddies and gang rape

Hello there boys and girls! Today we are going to talk about the bible. You have heard of the bible, haven’t you? In specific we are going to talk about Genesis 18 and 19. It is a lovely story full of gang rape and incest and successfully bargaining with an infallible God. I am going to translate it to more modern turns of phrase so that we can all understand it, but feel free to get out your bible and follow along!

Let’s get started, shall we?

So God says to Abraham, “Hey I have heard really bad things about Sodom and I am going to go check it out and if it is bad as everyone says it is I am totally going to destroy it.”

And Abraham says “I hear where you are coming from God, but check this out as a concept…what if there happens to be 50 good and righteous men in Sodom? Would you destroy the good along with the bad? Would you really destroy all of Sodom, including the 50 righteous man? That seems kinda messed up”

And God replies “If I find there are 50 good men, I will spare the city.”

“Ok, that is amazing, and thank you God, but hear me out, I don’t mean to nag, but what if it was 45? Would you destroy the city over 45?”

“Fine, fine, if I find 45 good men I will spare the city.”

“Thank you God, and please don’t be pissed, because you really are the best, but how about 40?”

“40. Ok, I can do 40.” says God.

“Can I counter with 30?” Abraham replies.

“30? I can give you 30.”

“Can we go for 20?” Abraham asks.

“…Yes” says God.

“Ok, I swear that this is the last time that I can going to ask, but can we try 10?”

“Ten! Ok, ten. I will give you ten.” God replies.

Thus we learn that God can be easily out negotiated and that Abraham is the sort of man that you would want on your side when you are buying a new car.

So God sends two angels down to Sodom to have them check out the town. When the angels run into Lot, Lot invites them to his house to spend the night. “Naw, we are ok,” they say. “We are just going to crash in the town square.”

“That is a seriously horrible idea,” Lot says. “I really have to insist that you spend the night at my house and not in the town square.”

“Fine” the angels reply. “We will stay with if you insist so strongly.”

Thus we learn that Lot can also negotiate something fierce. Once Lot gets the two guys settled in his place and fed the ENTIRE male population of the whole town turns up at Lot’s house and says “Hey, bring out those two guys you have in there. We want to fuck them.”

“That is a horrible thing to suggest” Lot says to the horny rapey crowd. “Please don’t do that. I have two virgin daughters. How about you gang rape them instead?”

“No way!” the crowd shouts. “We don’t want pussy. Pussy is bullshit! We want that strange ass! Hand it over.”

This is when God and the angels realize that there are no redeeming qualities to the city of Sodom. “Get the heck outta here,” the angels say. “We taking this place down. We are leveling this stranger raping city of perverts. Leave before you also get destroyed.”

Thus Lot, the one good man in the entire city, fled and ran around a bit on the plains with his daughters before settling into a cave up in the mountains. His wife didn’t make it as she was unable to negotiate with God as well as her husband. After a while his two virgin daughters noticed that they were living in in a cave with only their father around and that there was a distinct lack of baby daddy material to be had.

So his his one daughter says to the other “Hey you know our dad who wanted to give our hymens to an entire city? We really need to preserve the family line. Let’s get him drunk and fuck him so that we can get pregnant.”

They then totally did just that and both got pregnant. Which must of made future family reunions kinda awkward. And also raises the the question, if the guy willing to offer up his virgin daughters to be gang raped by an entire town to protect the asses of two dudes he just met a few hours earlier is the one decent man in the entire city, what were the rest of the people in the city like? They probably did really bad things to kittens.

Ok boys and girls, that is our bible lesson for the day. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Incest, gang rape and out haggling God for the win, am I right?


Lots' daughters get him drunk

Lots’ daughters get him drunk


The pillar of salt formerly known as Lot’s wife