Feeling Squeezy
The other day, I got to thinking how lucky it is that we have an opposable thumb.
Squeezing ... we do a great deal of squeezing in our lives.
There I was, in my local supermarket, and I realised I was squeezing nearly everything within reach.
In the fruit section, I was squeezing oranges, peaches, nectarines, papaya, limes, plums, bananas ... I even gave a watermelon a good squeeze. I especially like to squeeze grapefruit. I never buy grapefruit, but I like the feel of them, especially the extra large ones.
In the bakery department, I found myself squeezing loaves of bread, buns, croissants, those tasty little jelly rolls, and even bagels.
As I rolled through the dairy section, I couldn't resist squeezing the large variety of cheeses.
I squeeze towels, pillows, bedding, cushions, clothing, and yes, despite every admonition from Mr Whipple, I even squeeze those rolls of Charmin toilet tissue.
When I am around other people, I squeeze hands, arms, legs, back muscles, front muscles, bums, and boobs. I am especially fond of squeezing boobs, particularly the extra-large natural ones.
Simply put, I am an old squeezer, a squeeze-aholic ...
And I love to be squeezed too ... well, not everywhere. You wouldn't want to squeeze my nose when I am in a deep sleep and snoring my way through Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Should you do such an ignominy, then I could never be held responsible for my waking reaction. And you must never squeeze my ears. My mother did that when I was being a rascal and hunting down the family dog with a homemade bow and arrow. I remember the agony of the ear squeeze. Never again.
Women whom I have known intimately have seemingly enjoyed squeezing me "down there." I have always found that experience quite pleasurable. Except in one instance when the lady seemed determined not just to squeeze, but to rip the damn thing off. I chalked that particular event up to a dire case of "penis envy." Maybe she wanted to keep it handy, like in her purse or some such thing.
There are all kinds of squeezers in this world. Some people are heavy squeezers and others are gentle squeezers.
For example, some men like to really give it their all when they shake your hand. I guess I'm one of those guys, because I've always prided myself on having a firm handshake. I suspect that it's a guy thing, sort of a test of who is going to be the alpha-male in the room.
Some women like to give you a firm squeeze on a handshake as well. I always let them get their licks in, even if I do curl back a finger and try to tickle their palms in the squeezing process. I've been told that doing the tickle is some kind of sexual invitation of sorts ... not sure ... never worked for me.
Some people have no squeeze at all in their handshake. When you shake hands with a non-squeezer, it's like you have latched on to a wet dishcloth. I'm never sure if I should immediately let go, or wring the damn thing out. With all due respect to the gay community, I have found most gay men have a limp, wet handshake. Luckily I always keep some Purell in the car.
Squeezing is not always strictly a physical experience. Some people like to squeeze you emotionally or psychologically. They squeeze you for your time, your friendship, your affection, and in the worst case scenarios, some folks even try to "put the squeeze" on you. These are desperadoes who want to relieve you of some of your hard-earned money. Needless to say, these squeezers should be avoided at all cost. You can simply tell them that you're broke and that "you can't squeeze water from a stone," or if you like a little more dire imagery, tell them, "you can't squeeze blood from a turnip." If you don't like the idea of being a stone or a turnip, just tell them to screw off and reverse-squeeze them out of your life completely.
After all, only the government is allowed to squeeze the dollars out of your pocket. The tax squeeze is a well-known fact of life. Unfortunately, we never get to squeeze back.
Some individuals, usually men, refer to a lover as "my main squeeze." In fact, just the other day, a chap introduced his new girlfriend to me as exactly that. "Meet my main squeeze," he purred. Now, I must say that I may have noticed how squeezable she was, but the moment conjured up all kinds of images of sexual foreplay that may or may not have involved my own opposable thumb. A vague. scenario played out in my head. I could well imagine hands on her, but I can't say for certain just whose hands were travelling over her body and squeezing this or that. For all I knew, they might have been the hands of three hundred men.
Well, I have never been partial to using the phrase, "main squeeze," for my lover. After all, the whole idea of having a "main" squeeze, suggests that there are "secondary" squeezes as well. I live by the belief that one must "move along" before deciding to "mess around."
Finally, we all like to squeeze into things. Jeans from a few years back come to mind. People find old jeans in the bottom of their closets, and the first thing they do is see if they can squeeze into them. Some make the squeeze. Others can't get much more than one leg in. Not to worry. It's not healthy wearing tight jeans. They cut off the circulation to your feet.
Feet? Oh dear, some people haven't been in touch with their feet for years. They squeeze their amply proportioned hooves into shoes near half their required size.
Men aren't quite so conscious of shoe size. In fact, some men wear oversized shoes to suggest to the women whom they meet that they are generally well-endowed elsewhere. I, personally, wear a Size 20 Oxford ...
Women, on the other hand, like to imagine themselves in a Size 5 pump or, in more extreme instances, in a Size 4 black leather boot with stiletto heels — truly a tight squeeze.
We squeeze as we please, I guess, and I can't imagine a world in which squeezing was impossible or simply not allowed.
Oh dear, here I am just rambling on, and I'm sure you have much more important things to do than sit and read this nonsense. Still, I'm glad you squeezed me into your busy day.
See you again real soon ...
The other day, I got to thinking how lucky it is that we have an opposable thumb.
Squeezing ... we do a great deal of squeezing in our lives.
There I was, in my local supermarket, and I realised I was squeezing nearly everything within reach.
In the fruit section, I was squeezing oranges, peaches, nectarines, papaya, limes, plums, bananas ... I even gave a watermelon a good squeeze. I especially like to squeeze grapefruit. I never buy grapefruit, but I like the feel of them, especially the extra large ones.
In the bakery department, I found myself squeezing loaves of bread, buns, croissants, those tasty little jelly rolls, and even bagels.
As I rolled through the dairy section, I couldn't resist squeezing the large variety of cheeses.
I squeeze towels, pillows, bedding, cushions, clothing, and yes, despite every admonition from Mr Whipple, I even squeeze those rolls of Charmin toilet tissue.
When I am around other people, I squeeze hands, arms, legs, back muscles, front muscles, bums, and boobs. I am especially fond of squeezing boobs, particularly the extra-large natural ones.
Simply put, I am an old squeezer, a squeeze-aholic ...
And I love to be squeezed too ... well, not everywhere. You wouldn't want to squeeze my nose when I am in a deep sleep and snoring my way through Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Should you do such an ignominy, then I could never be held responsible for my waking reaction. And you must never squeeze my ears. My mother did that when I was being a rascal and hunting down the family dog with a homemade bow and arrow. I remember the agony of the ear squeeze. Never again.
Women whom I have known intimately have seemingly enjoyed squeezing me "down there." I have always found that experience quite pleasurable. Except in one instance when the lady seemed determined not just to squeeze, but to rip the damn thing off. I chalked that particular event up to a dire case of "penis envy." Maybe she wanted to keep it handy, like in her purse or some such thing.
There are all kinds of squeezers in this world. Some people are heavy squeezers and others are gentle squeezers.
For example, some men like to really give it their all when they shake your hand. I guess I'm one of those guys, because I've always prided myself on having a firm handshake. I suspect that it's a guy thing, sort of a test of who is going to be the alpha-male in the room.
Some women like to give you a firm squeeze on a handshake as well. I always let them get their licks in, even if I do curl back a finger and try to tickle their palms in the squeezing process. I've been told that doing the tickle is some kind of sexual invitation of sorts ... not sure ... never worked for me.
Some people have no squeeze at all in their handshake. When you shake hands with a non-squeezer, it's like you have latched on to a wet dishcloth. I'm never sure if I should immediately let go, or wring the damn thing out. With all due respect to the gay community, I have found most gay men have a limp, wet handshake. Luckily I always keep some Purell in the car.
Squeezing is not always strictly a physical experience. Some people like to squeeze you emotionally or psychologically. They squeeze you for your time, your friendship, your affection, and in the worst case scenarios, some folks even try to "put the squeeze" on you. These are desperadoes who want to relieve you of some of your hard-earned money. Needless to say, these squeezers should be avoided at all cost. You can simply tell them that you're broke and that "you can't squeeze water from a stone," or if you like a little more dire imagery, tell them, "you can't squeeze blood from a turnip." If you don't like the idea of being a stone or a turnip, just tell them to screw off and reverse-squeeze them out of your life completely.
After all, only the government is allowed to squeeze the dollars out of your pocket. The tax squeeze is a well-known fact of life. Unfortunately, we never get to squeeze back.
Some individuals, usually men, refer to a lover as "my main squeeze." In fact, just the other day, a chap introduced his new girlfriend to me as exactly that. "Meet my main squeeze," he purred. Now, I must say that I may have noticed how squeezable she was, but the moment conjured up all kinds of images of sexual foreplay that may or may not have involved my own opposable thumb. A vague. scenario played out in my head. I could well imagine hands on her, but I can't say for certain just whose hands were travelling over her body and squeezing this or that. For all I knew, they might have been the hands of three hundred men.
Well, I have never been partial to using the phrase, "main squeeze," for my lover. After all, the whole idea of having a "main" squeeze, suggests that there are "secondary" squeezes as well. I live by the belief that one must "move along" before deciding to "mess around."
Finally, we all like to squeeze into things. Jeans from a few years back come to mind. People find old jeans in the bottom of their closets, and the first thing they do is see if they can squeeze into them. Some make the squeeze. Others can't get much more than one leg in. Not to worry. It's not healthy wearing tight jeans. They cut off the circulation to your feet.
Feet? Oh dear, some people haven't been in touch with their feet for years. They squeeze their amply proportioned hooves into shoes near half their required size.
Men aren't quite so conscious of shoe size. In fact, some men wear oversized shoes to suggest to the women whom they meet that they are generally well-endowed elsewhere. I, personally, wear a Size 20 Oxford ...
Women, on the other hand, like to imagine themselves in a Size 5 pump or, in more extreme instances, in a Size 4 black leather boot with stiletto heels — truly a tight squeeze.
We squeeze as we please, I guess, and I can't imagine a world in which squeezing was impossible or simply not allowed.
Oh dear, here I am just rambling on, and I'm sure you have much more important things to do than sit and read this nonsense. Still, I'm glad you squeezed me into your busy day.
See you again real soon ...
This is a wonderful blog! We never know what you are going to come up with, and your blog does not disappoint this reader. Just squeeze me ... (lol)
ReplyDeleteConsider yourself squeezed ... ;o}
DeleteI don't like women with firm handshakes or men with wimpy ones...I must be old fashioned...
ReplyDeleteI'm with you ... we come from another era ...
Delete"I, personally, wear a Size 20 Oxford ..."
ReplyDeleteWHOA!
~Manfred
http://knightsfeather.wordpress.com/
Haha ... if only ...
DeleteI am impressed by your ability to squeeze a smile and a giggle out of me no matter what my mood. A ramble today, but a delightful one!
ReplyDeleteA mood? Oh, don't be in a mood ... ;o}
Delete