”Realizing that the answer to all of Life's unanswered questions about male behavior lies in the book, "He's not that into you", if you're female that is.
-L., J., and J.”

”I cannot isolate one experience or person or thing. –(unsigned)

"Pussy (underlined four times), Good or bad that's one thing that has had a major impact on my life. I guess mostly like an addict to crack. Good boys can't get those pleasures togethor. Wanting it, craving more than I want . Not leading to long term happiness. Turning women into objects, but only when I've been wanting. There is that beauty too, that it distracts me from... having a beautiful moment and then once my mind hits upon it, it sticks and is stuck like glue. Some people can handle their pussy, and some can't, or at least can't go without. Yes there is also the level it allows you to get to, the openness, the comfortability. Then again there is also what it is misused and abused for; stress, emotion, to be needed, anger, lack of love, dominance, domination, ego. Would I live without it? Would I have us live without it? No! Only if it was replaced with another way to get to the intimate level. Once the good boy, then a guy let loose, now just a person... -G.

"The night I discovered I could eat pussy... and like it! A male friend and I used to go to strip clubs togethor. I discovered I could get a great two for one deal by sharing lap dances with him because strippers and bouncers assumed we were a couple. Well one night when we went to one of those fine establishments (fine in a mid-priced, full nudity including slower show kind of way), we requested a lap dance from a hot stipper in a catholic school get up named Misty. We waited anxiously togethor in the booth and finally after a long 30 seconds, Misty came over. Now, the lap dances at this establishment weren't actually lap dances. They were actually sit-in-a-booth-while-I-stand-over-you-&-grace-your-face-with-my-pussy-and-ass dances. So, Misty did just this... and fully nude. Well, all I remember after that is not seeing or noticing anything but her wet, sweet-smelling pussy about 6" from my face. After it was over and I was nice and wet myself, and after taking a picture with Misty and my friend like a cheshire cat as if he had never been so happy in his life, I talked to my friend about my realization that OH MY GOD, I THINK I CAN ACTUALLY EAT PUSSY... AND LIKE IT. He in turn, observed that he could tell because the look in my eyes was all too familiar to him when Misty was dancing... And he had plenty of time to observe me because as usual, I got more attention from the stripper then he did ( he was starting to get a bit tired of the two for one deal that I loved for obvious reasons). So, after that, I of course, had to go on a determined search for pussy I could eat. This worked well for me, and pussy very quickly became my meal of choice. That was until six years later when I discovered the power of the penis in a way I never expected. But then... what's a girl to do without choices. –T”

”As I sit here with my family celebrating my 22 year old son's 1st job acceptance after 4 and a half years of college, I realize that my deciding to have a baby at the age of 18 has had the biggest impact on my 41 year old life. This night solidifies that the choice I made at the age of 18 to have a child that was not planned was the best choice I ever made. Now I will let him venture into the world, make his own choices, and hope that I have made enough of an impact on his life that he will be happy with the choices he will make in the future! -D.”

”My father and I haven't always seen eye to eye over the years, but I've always respected him. One evening my wife and I took him out to a bar to celebrate his birthday. Now, my father has always been something of a wildman. His mother owned a biker bar in Mechanicsburg, PA, and he grew up pretty quickly. He joined the army out of high school and wound up stationed at a listening post on the West German border as a tech (?) during the cold war. He and his army buddies opened up a small cinema with a bar to pass the time. It was the local "bad" hangout where the young german ladies used to go to enjoy the adventurous american G.I's company. My mother apparently used to be quite the drinker in her younger days and would move from single gentlemen to single gentlemen at the bar, drinking them all under the table - enjoying free cocktails.
The story that I did not hear until that fateful evening, was that my father was a rather jealous boyfriend. Apparently, while he and my mother were having difficulties in their relationship, my mother's local old flame from her hometown began to try to rekindle their relationship. In the midst of a drunken reminisce, my father finally confessd to gathering his group of G.I. buddies togethor and physically discouraging the former boyfriends overtures. The crowning moment was when he proudly declared that after beating the crap out of the guy, he urinated on him for good measure. I never looked at my father the same way again. -B. W.”

”It was my junior year in college, and for spring break I decided to visit my friend Sarah, who was studying abroad in Wales. We spent a couple days in Swansea, and the decied to go spend a couple nights in Snowdonia National Park. We picked a small town near the park to stay in, and after a day of hiking we decided to visit a local pub for dinner. In the U.K. they have no laws regarding animals in pubs, so in this bar they had a dog named Kali and a cat named Barnaby. We were the only patrons that night, so Barnaby found us especially interesting. the menu had many options, one of which was a half chicken. The bar patron warned us against ordering it, as it was Barnaby's favorite dish. Being ignorant Americans, we didn't give it a second though and ordered it. Sure enough, after about ten minutes after our food was served, Barnaby picked the moment none of us were watching and pounced on my friend Dave's chicken. The cat dragged it away and under the next table where we were treated to the sounds of snapping chicken bones for the rest of the evening. The moral of the story is to not order poultry without checking for feline bar patrons. -A. V.”