The Support Group for Super Hot, Sexy, Fit People Who Have Lots Of Orgasms
It’s really hard being in this category.
Seriously, it is.
A lot of hard work.
Like, every day.
Hours spent surfing, swimming, exercising, fucking, doing inner emotional work, clearing blocks, healing, challenging oneself to do better every day.
For me, a day is a good day, when I feel like I have learned something new or challenged myself in some way.
I stepped out beyond what I know, into new territory.
I was changed.
I love the idea: If it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you.
Are you at your edge?
As I wrote about last week, everything we do registers in and on us.
Unresolved trauma and pain settles in as a cyst or a growth or a mysterious leg pain.
A broken heart never healed remains as a heaviness we carry with us everywhere we go—depression, cynicism, maybe a few extra pounds.
Unless it gets grieved and purged and healed.
All the things we don’t say to stand up for ourselves lingers on the body as flabbiness.
It’s all the places you let yourself be flabby in your life.
When I see fit, athletic bodies, I know the toil that goes into them.
I know the daily, hourly, minute-by-minute choices that people make.
Choices to be conscious.
To practice self-love and self-discipline.
It is very hard work.
And I admire that.
When did mediocrity become something to strive for?
“Hey, why don’t you ever show pictures of ‘normal’ bodies.”
By “normal” you mean overweight and not fit?
“Where do you get off saying that all women can orgasm?”
I get off left, right and center. On the kitchen counter, in the car, on the boat deck, up the ass and all over the planet.
“Who do you think you are, telling women they can lubricate naturally?”
I’m the only sex coach who has the courage—and apparently the knowledge—to tell the truth.
“How dare you tell men to “man up”?
Because that’s what a woman wants her man to do: Dare. All day, every day. She wants him to bend her over and fuck her senseless until all the whiny, clingy shit is fucked out of her.
Your face, your physique, your orgasms—or lack thereof—all tell a story.
Sure, anyone can go out and buy new tits or a new nose.
True beauty is earned.
You can’t fake an athletic body. No one is born with insane fitness.
It’s a daily discipline.
And it’s hot as fuck.
Vaginal, life-changing orgasms are earned.
You punch—and fuck—through the detritus in your heart and vagina, and you get there.
Being a legendary Supercock and all-night fucker is earned.
Hours of practice and commitment make you the most memorable cock a woman has ever had.
This is what excites me.
When people throw down.
This is what makes my life exciting: the fact that I can change myself.
I can transform every day into a newer, better version of me.