Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Balls Occasionally Vol. Seven: The Sport You Play and What it Says About You as a Sexer

By: Kelly McClure
A few weeks back we took a look at some beards and examined what they say about a man's performance and preference in bed, but there's so much more that can be taken into consideration when it comes to clues that will point a lady to the exact address and land size of your bone zone. The type of sport that a man plays, or simply enjoys to watch, speaks volumes. Let's take a look.


Football is primarily about brute force taking place in a crisp atmosphere. How romantic is that?? There is no time of year more conducive to fond feelings and sweaty daydreams than the fall and winter months. Take the visuals of football for what they are (sexual): large bodies, pumped and oiled, carrying the heavy burden of protective (emotional) padding, chasing and running from each other, all in an effort to catch, and give back, the elusive brown sphere. Could point to a love of anal. Definitely points to a love of being hurt while sweaty, and then enjoying a carb heavy meal together. What an intimate exchange.


The love of baseball expresses a need for distance. Both playing and watching the sport tells the women in your life, "It's okay, I'll just stand over here with this big stick in my hand, and when you're ready, you go ahead and throw what you have right at it." 


There is an opening in the distance, and you want to fill it. You have a "ball" in your hands, and it seems simple enough to just run up to the opening you wish to fill, and then stuff your "ball" inside of it. Obstacles place themselves in your path to purposely keep you from reaching what you want to reach. You run, jump, run to one side, fake to the other, and finally, you are face to face with the hole of your desire. You take your "ball" and you throw it, sometimes blindly, at the hole. Sometimes it makes it in, and you run away. Sometimes it bounces off the side of the hole and dribbles to the floor, and then you are left to stand there, defeated and waiting until the "ball" is in your hands again.


Horse racing, even more so than football, is a sport for sexual beings. Watching a man bounce his genitals on the back of a huge animal will surely give a woman a pretty accurate idea of how those genitals would be bounced upon her, if given the chance. The key to being a successful horse racer, one would gather, is to stay down low, as close as possible to the back of the rippling muscles beneath you, and sink your knees into the side of what you're riding so that, even paired against speed, pressure, and the elements, your two forms move as one. And while yes, horse jockeys are often very small in stature, the expert gracefulness of their pumping hips movements make up for anything else they may be lacking. Truth be told: if you can ride a woman like you ride a horse, the race is won no matter which opponent finishes first.


You have a stick that, although fully functional, is curved in such a way that makes prime performance a tricky thing that could, for some, take years to get good at. Your hands are gloved, making it difficult to even feel the stick as you maneuver your body on unforgiving surfaces, sometimes losing your footing all together and crashing down. Your main objective is to forcibly slap your materials into their home of a net that lays out before you. You slap them over, and over, and over again. From time to time other men with gloved hands who cannot feel their sticks throw their bodies upon you, with intent to make you bleed, but at your best all that you can do is continue to slap your materials.

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