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I’m beginning to get the feeling that I’ve been spending too much time online. Just the other day I was leafing through the TV listings only to find myself analysing the keyword density of the film reviews. I have noticed other strange things going on as well. Next door to where I live is a church which has a row of small square windows on one side of the building. Every time I see those windows I think they are thumbnail images which I can click to open up larger images. What on earth is wrong with me? When I’m driving down the road and I see company adverts on the side of vans and trucks I think to myself: “Well that’s not very well optimised for search engine rankings!” Have I gone mad? Or could there be another explanation? Every profession has what is commonly referred to as an occupational hazard. Tennis players get tennis elbow, writers get writer’s cramp and politicians get liar’s teeth. For web designers and SEO professionals the problem seems to be one of not being able to tell the difference between the Internet and the Outernet (formerly known as the ‘real world’). A visit to my local optician confirmed that I had indeed gone Google-eyed. I was advised to seek help and enrol on a 12-step SEO rehabilitation program. Of course initially I denied that I had a problem and tried to claim that I just needed a few more incoming links and all would be fine. But when the hallway from your bedroom to your bathroom becomes a hypertext link, you know you’ve got problems. And when you return home one day to find the door to your apartment is locked and a message pops up in your head asking you to enter your username and password, you know it’s time to stand up and say: “My name is Rob, I’m an SEO addict and I’ve been online for too long.” So what are the symptoms of going Google-eyed? There are a number of tell-tale signs, one of which is an obsession with the length of your little green bar. I am of course referring to your Google Page Rank. Luckily treatment is available for this condition and it involves a large dose or perspective and reality. So let’s get this ailment cleared up straight away: Having a high Google Page Rank does not necessarily mean your site will show up in the top ten search results for your chosen keywords. Page Rank is like your ego: it’s great if you want to show off to your mates but it has little value beyond that. If people can find your site and those people become customers or clients, then it really doesn’t matter how big your Page Rank is and you can stop making those secret nocturnal visits to websites offering you backstreet Page Rank enlargement services! Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s continue with our treatment. The second set of symptoms of Google-Eyedness has to do with a phenomenon that I have already discussed, namely, that of confusing the inner and outer worlds. If you spend so much time online that your food cupboards have become as bare as a newborn baby’s behind and when you eventually do venture out for groceries you find yourself wondering why your local supermarket doesn’t have a search engine so you can find what you want and leave… TURN OFF YOUR COMPUTER and repeat the following mantra: There is more to life than Google. There is more to life than Google. There is more to life than Google. You can have self-esteem without Google Page Rank and if your website is not in Google’s top ten, it’s not the end of the world! You see there seems to be this misconception that Google is all-powerful. We all know how much of the market share it controls and we all know how much difference it can make to the income of an online business. But Google is only as important as you think it is and only as powerful as we allow it to be. It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that you need a higher Page Rank or a higher position in Google’s search results when what you may be in need of is a better sales conversion rate. I know people who obsess about Page Rank and getting their website into Google’s top ten and yet when I look at their webstats I find that they are getting loads of visitors to their site – but they’re not turning those visitors into paying customers. If your store looks dull and uninspiring and your products are poorly displayed you won’t make more money by moving the store to a better location or by herding more people in through the door: you need to address the issue at hand and not get distracted into believing that the problem has anything to do with Google. So why am I saying all this and why haven’t I written one of those ‘Top Ten SEO Tips’ articles instead? (I know you love reading them just as much as I do.) Because, as much as we may think it important to gain the approval of Google, if we place too much importance on this and become Google-eyed, we run the risk of losing sight of all the other opportunities available to us on the Internet and of becoming blind to the all the other online marketing strategies at our disposal. Explaining what those opportunities and strategies are will have to wait for another day. For now I have to continue my rehabilitation by taking a holiday. free natural penis enhancement penis elargement surgery cost cheap vig rx manual penis elargement exercise medical penile enlargment homemade penis enlargment free penis enlargement video penis enlargment technique best enlargement exercise pnis
The Forest As we drove farther into the outskirts of Augsburg, looking out placidly across the top of cars, houses, and at the dogs running about, I got thinking, thinking how I felt being with Chris, about Chris. It was like I was cast into a spell, an enchantment, or perhaps a curse; very seldom did I ever feel like this. Normally I would feel like this only if I was in the presence of a great person, like my karate instructor in San Francisco, Gosei Yamauchi, or his father ‘The Cat’ Gogan, who was one of the few 10th degree black belts in the world. Normally I’d be high the whole next day. With Chris I felt the same way I knew tomorrow I’d be high all day, it was a natural high. Once—I can’t remember when—I had read something about the poet Emily Dickinson, she was something like a recluse, but she made a poem indicating nature was her high, and I always remember that. How true this can be, grabbing the moment and cherishing it, absorbing it as if there was no tomorrow, and at the same time absorbing nature: the sounds and the heart beat mother earth, and sky; others humans, and the dogs and birds, all such things that at that moment surround you; they are all somewhat magical. I was learning, how to be a listener if anything and it entailed all things within your presence. Chris was fully alive now, as I turned my head towards her delectation her steering wheel facing me, at which made the moment a little more interesting, as she felt good about me checking her out; a weary kind of sense, not defeat, just a good profile look; I thought dimly in my mind as she drove mile after mile: how could she afford to look so prim and proper all the time. Do her hair in a unique style, not a hair out of place, so it seemed. I guess in our own way we are all unique, I heard that someone say that someplace, not sure where. An hour and a half had passed on by and she was still driving, and it was getting dark. She pulled into a wooded area; she said it was the outer rim of the Black Forest (otherwise known as the Eyebrow of the Woods), I think I heard of that forest in a fairytale book or at least that is where my mind said I got it from. An enchanting name, I must had said it my second self, that little person inside of all of us that we talk to: Black Forest, Black Forest…! “So you see,” said Chris “…here we are!” She added her conclusive little smile to her face as she said that; as we entered the dark huge green forest, parking the car a little off to the side of a dirt road that lead into the deeper and more distant part of the forest, partly covered by trees and bushes now. There was a chill in the air so I rolled up the window, as she turned on the radio for some music. Very quickly and carefully she moved her thin reserved neck and shoulders into my area, she just starred at me, as if she was going to eat me up; as her left arm was lowered, it pulled out a bottle of Mosel-Saar-Ruwer wine, 1965 wine, -- I looked the bottle over 9.5% volume; I knew they had been making wine around this intriguing river and hilly area for close to 1700-years. It was good wine I had tasted it before, not sweat or dry, flowerily white wine to be exact. “Now,” said Chris indignantly, but with the air of a certain point, “…let’s see what we can do with this battle. We started to drink and laugh. “Ah, yes,” I said to her, “you have a lovely profile.” She smiled and threw her head back. “Well,” I thought out loud “… this is a good way to pass the night away, and begin romantic indecencies”-- she leaned over the center-divider of the bucket seats to kiss me. She opened her mouth, sunk her lips on mine, as she pulled her long legs to the under-part of the dash, she then started to unzip her zipper to her boots. “This,” commented Chris “passes everything…I never did it in a car before.” She had drunk down 1/5 of the wine like a person drinking water. “Chick,” said Chris, ”…come over here.” I moved my body closer to hers. Everything seemed to be in the way. I could not back out of whatever was going to happen; and I knew what was in the makings. She was starting to stretch her hands out: --her blouse went over her head, I just kept looking as she started to strip, I was growing, getting as hard as a pencil. “Oh, damn Chick,” said Chris heartily as she touched my item. Just her saying that aroused me; then pulling off her bra, and her skirt up I seemed to become tranquilized somehow, my mind slipped to King Solomon, of all things, as he once defined the beauty of a woman’s body and how it was to measured for one’s pleasure by enjoying it fully, and this was all I wanted to do now—enjoy it, and I think Chris was feeling the same way for even though we were both a bit on the tipsy side we were fully aware of our responses, I had lost complete focus of the uncomfortable situation, as she did… ◊…now that she was almost completely stripped only her panties on, she curled up in a fetus position holding her legs and leaning back, then opened up her legs slowly… I thought what every on earth possessed her, yet who can predict women I told myself, and started to take off my cloths, quickly…getting out of this spill of sorts. I guess it is true, men like to observe, and women like to touch. I liked both. This was not dirty sex, this was pure sex, at its height, one might even say, it was like a painting; she painted the picture, she taught me how to enjoy what she had to offer. “I’m going to get it all off in a minute,” I said, it was difficult working in this cramped space… she chuckled, “Slowly please, I can wait…”she softly said as she rested her head back and I caught my breath, that is what she wanted, that is, for me to calm down, yet remain hard and possessed with her offering: I think we both had multiorgasms “I feel fine now –“ I said, adding, “cramped but fine…☺” Chris opened up her arms I couldn’t back away after that, could I? I told myself: I have a private room at the barracks…. Then said it out loud to her: “Of course, -- next time…” said she, and we continued to make love for the third orgasm for me, for her, perhaps five or six. We seemed to flop around the front seat finding the right position…’she‘s looking at me eeeeeeeee’, I told myself, I’m cramped, nothing to grab a hold of, her head leaning against the glass of the window. Without a word we continued: --my body heavy onto hers, my heart beating two-hundred ticks a minute, we both were hot, enmeshed in the moment, a lustful, and burning moment; I wanted to open the door, but feared the light going on and someone would see us, plus the air was cool, too cool. I had no escape we met each other’s eyes as I penetrated her. She looked again deep into my eyes as she tried to catch her breath, to make sure I was still alive I think. It was seemingly unfair for me to put her through this I thought, but the thought only lasted a half second, I found myself exploding … as my heart dropped to my feet, and again, and again, I exploded and burned as if I had opened myself up to a volcano; I had learned at that moment, the difference between happiness and pressure: happiness was listening to her talk before, and then came her smile, now the pleasure, sex; I hurt, this had never happened before. “Nice evening, isn’t it?” I said as I started pulling her body closer to me. “I hope you are not offended I am taking the lead?” said Chris. “Not at all,” I said, adding, “I’ll catch up.” “There are times,” said Chris, “when rules are made to be broken like now, them...mmm damn silly rules…” she pulled herself up a bit, “I stopped believing in those rules… this is one of those moments I want to remember…remember for a long time, even after I am dead.” As we tried to untwist our bodies, we caught ourselves laughing at our odd situation. We had made love, and became a little more sensitive with each other…a little more possessive of each other, I guess that is the nature of things in a relationship, they are made to progress, or stop, one or the other, and it was never to take place again in the front seat of a Mustang I knew…. She laid her cheek against my hand. “Chick.” “Yes?” “You realize don’t you, this can’t end here?” “There’s no reason for it to end, is there?” “No.” She spoke some German words I didn’t understand, German mingled with English I should say: then somehow, she went silent…maybe she was taking time to remember the moment, digesting it; I didn’t know, nor did I want to try to guess, I just looked at her, her smile it seemed to promise something, grace; instinct was in it also, around her small enclosed eyes, as they opened and shut slowly they were weaving a web I do believe, “It won’t end here, I promise.” Pleasant and agreeable-like a well-cultured woman she was, maybe too much for me, she opened the door, and dressed quickly, then got back in. “Want a cigarette?” I asked, sitting up straight. “No and neither do you. We are both restless it seems. Come over to me,” she started kissing me. As she released her lips from mine, she sat upright now, pulled out a cigarette, lit it and started blowing smoke rings into the air. “You know perfectly well, I’m very much attracted to you…yoouuuu… right?” “I hope so, I feel the some way.” “Luckily the wine deadens the bruises (discoloration).” I commented, she laughed and kind of stretched her back to put it back in place…”Me to,” she replied. “I wish all relationships could start like ours, it is like saying let’s drop all the game playing and pretend we are on the fifth date, and cut the crap; I like you Chick, I like you very much…” “The bruises will show up tomorrow,” I told Chris. Kind of saying maybe we should go, but neither one of us seemed to be all that bothered with that so we simply started kissing again after her cigarette brake…it was a long and needed pause for me, for a second breathe, a refractory period I needed [from uninterrupted sex]; that is, having multiple orgasms drains a man. I’ve learned also, women don’t need this rest period; so in time I’d learn how to last longer, and perhaps stretch the orgasms thinner but again, longer (three hours at the most; and I did). I thought in my head, she was having sex with me, and then that rich boyfriend she had; she was getting her multiorgasmic pleasures indeed, perhaps a secret to some women, for once they discover this, it is hard for any man to keep up with them, lest he be a superman of sorts. I did not even at that young age have the capacity to pass six organisms; five was my limit I learned. I was limp now; my penis had been as pointed as a scorpions tail a while ago. As scary as it started out for me I thought my reactions afterwards was cool, I seemed to be letting things take their natural course. It was a dark and colorless evening. Grossly romanticized in such an unimpressive way (so I thought in the back of my mind), yet Miss Chris was perfect. I thought to myself: maybe she might be annoyed with my lovemaking… I guess every man wants to please the woman, wife, girlfriend, the one he is making love to, or should want to please her, but most don’t; how can they, they pop too quickly. This is a fact, I’ve talked to men, and when they say they go so quick, no woman could get it on in that time period. A woman taught me how to hold myself from climaxing too early, thus allowing the woman to catch up—and therefore, allowing my female mate to get it on and enjoy. I know this evening went a little fast, but Chris was modest about it, like that other woman who had taught me, helped me, to help her, so we both could enjoy each other more; as my slowing down kept my penis hard longer, allowing her pleasure zone to become wider. This was something of the case in hand, but not completely. Most men think they make love better drinking, but it’s far from the truth. Most men do not know how to make love, no one taught them, so all they do is f*ck, and that is not love, that is, if anything, a quick climax, like eating a big fat burger, and wiping your mouth in its enjoyment and then leaving the café only to find out: you got indigestion, and had you went to a nicer restaurant, ate slower, you’d never forget the meal. I have experimented with that theory, and it is nine-minutes verse four-hours, I say four hours, but I knew in my head it was only one time I lasted four hours, two and a half was the norm. I was thinking now—as Chris kissed me—how I owe some women a bit of gratitude for allowing me to have my pleasure and not returning it to them; that’s the caretaker in a woman I think. But women just don’t know men can learn. And men are too bull-headed to let women teach them what pleases them. I had learned a good lover was worth his weight in gold and even maybe a little more: sometimes they can be irresistible. One could hardly tell her it wasn’t hastily done, our sex (to me it was) for it was, but she seemed to understand the circumstances, and we need not prove anything today, only allow our bodies to be sanctioned to the other. So I think we both felt. Lovemaking would improve as time went on. “I’m afraid my lover, we will have to find better accommodations next time,” Chris said, smiling at me. “Yes,” I hesitated, “absently,” I hesitated-- “I feel the same way.” “It’s a little hard in such a cramped car luckily we are both a little tipsy….” “I’m afraid I’m not, somehow I sobered up when you took your blouse off.” She smiled, with a grin. “Yes. I sense you have, do you really like me Chick?” “You are growing on me. And what is there not to like?” She was like a schoolgirl at times, needing to be encouraged, to grow up, and needed to be admired. But she didn’t need permission to live, she was taking that—but I’m learning to appreciate women more, I told myself, and it seems the more I show appreciation, the more they respect me, and to be quite frank with myself, I need respect. And why not … the world will give it, if you demand it, and if not, let that part of the world go; so my second self, my mind’s eye, told me. But then as I looked at her, if she really felt she was on death row, with cancer, maybe I was just a remedy for a while, and if so, so what, maybe I needed a remedy to make it through my time here in Germany; so seemed just to me. 8 The Spider and The Web A warm-wind had picked up it seemed, and April and May in Germany was a paradise of light-cool sunrays, it was a spring never to forget, Chris and I were growing on one another, like white on rice. More community drinking fairs were picking up and Chris and I tried to make a few, drink it up and eat and just go with the flow; it was a good time for living. Chris and I were known throughout the guardhouse-barracks as lovers and a heat wave at that. She seemed to have a charm with my soldier friends, and often drove her German boyfriend’s Mercedes car to the gate, and about, showing off kind of, not only to me, but it seemed at times going out of her way to show it to the other guards. Most of my friends thought she had two cars, I simply did not up date them, if they were not in my way of thinking or inner circle—why squander my time; and in most cases they didn’t have a need to know; but Ski and a few other of my friends knew the truth. I felt: plus, I felt: why not let Chris make an impression at the guard shacks, if it helps her ego so be it. I do not think I was envious, rather amused. I’m sure somewhere along the line I’d have to deal with envy, but who at my age is envious, for what, I have a lifetime to catch up. She flirted with the guards, and they all thought it cool. At night, if I had to work, she would bring me by a sandwich while on duty; in one way she got the guys a little jealous, or in lack of a better word, annoyed. And sometimes she would simply walk into barracks, which had about fifteen-guards some running around half naked from the shower room to their room, while others went visiting. She’d come knocking on my door. She’d spend the night with me, it was an improvement from the car, and for some reason we only went over to her house once in the following two months. I knew we were not fooling anyone at the guard-barracks, but we pretended to be secret about it anyway. vimax penis enlargement information penis enhancement program penis enlargment drug truth about penile enlargement pills penis enargement before and after penis enlarement forum real penis elargement medical penile enlargement best enlargement exercise pnis
As long as people have been having sex for fun, there have been methods of birth control. Other than abstinence, which is not really very exciting, the next oldest method of birth control is the withdrawal method, sometimes known by its latin name, coitus interruptus. The withdrawal method is not very complicated. It´s most important feature is that the penis must be withdrawn from the vagina before intercourse. If ejaculation happens inside the vagina, or if semen comes into contact with the vagina, withdrawal has not been used. Withdrawal has been criticized from a number of angles. One of the most important criticisms is that many men do not have the discipline to consistently withdraw. As if may be difficult to know when to woman is ovulating, withdrawal must happen each and every time. Another criticism is that pre-ejaculate contains some sperm. This is sometimes true, which affects the overall effectiveness of the method. When it is used consistently, withdrawal is much better than not using any type of contraception at all. If you simply don´t want to abstain, and you don´t have any birth control available, using withdrawal is well advised. For people who do want to be a bit more prepared, there are many types of contraceptives available. Condoms, pills, devices, diaphragms caps and charts are some of the modern methods that are available to today's sexually active partners.