Dr. Bourbon's Tips For Getting Laid...

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from Twitter User @yodelingsnake

He asks:

Dear Doctor Bourbon,

I struggle with interpreting cues on when it's appropriate to "make the move" on my wife, because I'm socially inept. I'm good at sex! But I don't always get the timing right... Do you have any advice?

Signed,
@YodelingSnake

Dear Mr. Snake,

Dr. Bourbon and The Cleaning Lady

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from the ANONYMOUS "Mommy Issues" via a Twitter DM.

Dear esteemed Dr Bourbon,

I've got mommy issues. I'm pushing 40 and my mother won't let me be a goddamned adult. She goes out of her way to make excuses to come into my house and clean it.
Now, before you go getting all "ooh free cleaning services" know this: my house is clean. It's just not clean ENOUGH. My floors can be mopped, shelves dusted and beds made and she will RE CLEAN over me. I've told her to stop.
My husband has told her to stop. Our small children have told her to stop. But SHE. NEVER. STOPS.

Help a girl out, Dr. B.

love and kisses
"Mommy Issues"

Dear "Mommy Issues,"

Triathlon Training - A Guest Post by Matt Herald

Matt Harold is our guest author today.

He is sharing his basics on training to run a triathlon - something I will most likely never do.
You can find Matt on Twitter at @MattHerald

Self described as:

Beer drinker, Bourbon lover, Geocacher, Runner, Triathlete, Father of 3, Husband of 1, Keeper of ALL!

Triathlon Training

A Guest Post by Matt Herald

  Most people think of triathlon and instantly count themselves out.  Don’t worry, I used to do it, too.  But now, I am a triathlete.  Not only do I do triathlons, but I train so that I can be better at them.  And the craziest thing of all is that I enjoy it!  I enjoy the races, the competition, the mental preparation, the physical strain, and the most important part: crossing the finish line!  So what’s it take to train for a triathlon?  Well, it may not be as much as you think.  So here’s a peak into my triathlon training.

Dr. Bourbon On Hookers and Bourbon

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from "Brian" via Twitter. 

Brian writes:

Dear Doctor B,
I enjoy coffee, and sex is pretty great, but I haven't found a bourbon I like yet. What do you recommend I try first?

-Brian (@briancebuhl)

Dear Brian,

Bourbon is best enjoyed naked. Just throwing that out there before we get started...

It's the nectar of the gods. Enjoyed by kings and paupers alike. Don't listen to the Jack Sparrow wannabes out there that are "Oh, Rum is sooo good." Those assholes don't know what's good for them... That's why they all have scurvy and STDs.

Bourbon on the other hand...

Bourbon is like prostitution. You get what you pay for. Do you want to have a good night, but feel rather awful and potentially dirty in the morning? Then $10 will do it for ya!

Dr. Bourbon And The Tale of The Shorn Scrotum

Today we open a new chapter - Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon.

Our first question comes from "Sir Raven" via Twitter. 

Sir Raven writes:

Dear Dr BS
Every time I shave completely bare I think, "This feel awesome! Why don't I do this more often?"
Then Day 2 rolls around and it's a bumpy, rashy mess of regrowth down there. Seriously I get like one day of smooth fun and then a week of itching and pimply ingrown hairs.

Any advice? 😫😫😫
Raven (@QuothSirRaven)

Raven,

Thanks for reaching out.

Boy do I know what you mean. Your question reminds me of a time back in the army - sometime in 2003 - when I was in the desert and sweating my balls off.

I thought to myself: "Man, this manly mane of hair surrounding my junk is hot and sweaty... and smells like balls. I bet if I shaved it all off, it would be a cool, refreshing change of scenery for a while."

Here Kitty Kitty - A Guest Post by Anna O'Keefe

Today's guest post is Anna O'Keefe

You can follow her on Twitter here: @ReneeHawk1956

"The Trouble With Mountain Faeries" is a collection of her words in short story format that has been published in an anthology called "Intersections" by the Frederick Writers Salon and can be purchased through Amazon.

She also writes blog posts for the online publication, Luna Station. A female centric sifi, fantasy, alternative worlds magazine.

Her current WIP is a novel about a town where no one dies they just disappear.

From the author:
"I am a girl who loves words. I love reading them and I love writing them. I truly get excited when I string a bunch of words together that make sense enough to tell a story."

Here Kitty Kitty

One woman's life long love of the classic 1972 XK-E Jaguar

A Guest Post by Anna O'Keefe

I paused to look through the floor to ceiling glass wall, at the entrance to the dealership. Daring a glance back at the turntable that slowly revolved with the most incredible thing I had ever seen. So red and shiny it nearly took my breath away. With that deep black convertible top made this car perfect and I shivered to be so close. Sleek, sophisticated, and way beyond me in every aspect. The 1972 XK-E Jaguar had captured my heart. I would have said my Kitty was sexy if I had known what sexy was at the time. I had talked about nothing else for months.

My friends had long since stopped trying to  understand this obsession. Sure, being obsessed about boys, clothes, and how much we weighed but being over the edge about a car was just crazy. I disregarded their protests. Even having no money and not knowing how to drive were just small matters and easily brushed aside. More than getting my ears pierced, more than a push up bra,
more than red nail polish, even more being allowed out past 10 pm. I simply longed for the
XK-E, my Kitty.

I sighed. Here I was barely 16 and extremely naive even in a world without cell phones and internet and head over heels in love. I was just moments away from realizing my deepest
desire. I opened the double doors and strolled in, book bag hiked on my shoulder, full of all the
courage I didn't think I possessed.

Stopping at the first occupied desk and in my practiced adult voice, I pointed, “I want to speak to someone about that XK-E.”

The man at the desk looked up from his racing form and peered over the top rim of his eye glasses. An expression wavering between irritation and boredom.

“What?”

The One Upper...

We all know one... Hell, some of you reading this might BE one.

The person who, no matter what you've said or done, has done it better, stronger, harder, faster, with more struggle than you can possibly imagine!!!  And they'll tell you about it.

I work with one of these people... two actually. And to see them interact with one another is a thing of beauty. It's a veritable plethora of passive aggressive one-upsmanship on a scale that would make most people wet themselves. To hear the two of them talk, you'd assume that they have the greatest, most blessed lives ever and simultaneously have dealt with more struggles, woes, and personal demons than you could ever have.

I'd really like to punch them both.

They do not talk with anyone in an effort to talk to learn something about that person - they talk so they can talk about themselves and their lives.

I'm 40 years old. I spent 10 years in the army Infantry. I've done OCR (Obstacle Course Races). I have kids. I've done literally YEARS of damage to my knees and legs. And some days, like today, they feel like I've been jumped by Tonya Harding in my sleep... It literally hurts me to stand today. And sit... And, to top it all off, I've had several fucked up dreams this week from my PTSD...  So, to have my pain and my tired, bags under the eyes, look get blown off with "You should try living in my shoes"... I lost it.

I looked at this person and remained silent. I just nodded while they went on and on about how bad they had it and how they were tired from getting up early for a meeting with the Bank Manager or some equally bullshit thing...

What I WANTED to say was this. "Yes, asshole, I would gladly trade you places. Then, when you wake up at 5am with your knees aching and your mind plagued with the visions of burning children, you might, for one instance in your padded, bullshit life, know what true pain is. Then maybe you'll shut the fuck up instead of running your cock-holster non stop and annoying the ever loving shit out of me and everyone else. Nobody here is on easy street, except maybe you. So, when you're reeling over how bad it is that this year you ONLY got to go on a 3 week Alaskan cruise and Europe twice, you might realize that the rest of us are truly fucked. Maybe, just MAYBE you'd gain some fucking perspective on what a piece of shit you really are."

I fucking hate people who just HAVE to be better than you - or worse. The people who feel compelled to one-up every good or bad thing that's ever happened.

Seriously - get fucked.

Don't be this person. If someone is telling you something - try to avoid responding with any story of your own that has the effect of "your story is cute, but mine is better." We're all guilty of it. Even me - and I hate myself when I do it.... but right now, I am in pain. And the last thing I need is someone who biggest problem in life is their lack of European vacations telling me how bad they've got it.

'Twas The Night Before XXXmas - A Poem

'Twas The Night Before XXXmas

A @BourbonSex Original Poem

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our house,

I was horny as fuck and she wasn't wearing her blouse;

The stocking were hiked up her thighs with care,

I wanted to grab them and bury my face there;

Our children were nestled all snug in their bed;

While I sweet talked mommy into giving me head;

So she's in her panties, and I in my shirt,

And she started to lick, she started to flirt;

When out in the hall our son made a thundering boom,

I need to deal with the kid before we can resume;

Away to the kitchen I ran pretty quick,

Using a towel to hide my blood-engorged dick;

The polish on the grain of the newly-mopped floor,

Gave little traction as I passed through the door;

When what did I find as I slid through the dark,

But the goddamn table and I let scream with a bark!

With a pained little grimace to prevent all my raving,

I knew I had to hurry to get the tail I was craving;

Faster than The Flash - I went to my task,

Getting more than just the juice for which he had asked;

Now, cookies! Now chips! Now water and juice!

On snack time! On bed time! My towel's coming loose!

To the top of the stairs! To the foot of his bed!

Now go to sleep! Go to sleep! So I can get head!

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

I read him a book, until he closed his big eyes;

So back to the bedroom, for it's time to screw!

With a throbbing erection, and a vibrator too!

And then, in terror, I heard at the door

The yawning and whining of the other one... she's four;

As I drew up my towel and was turning around,

Through the now open door she came with a bound;

She was dressed in pink from her head to her toes,

This shit is killing me. You tiny, cute little foes!

A blanket and toys she'd flung on her back,

I flashed a scared look at momma who was covering her rack;

Her eyelids were heavy - this child of mine,

I escorted her to her room, hopefully she'll sleep this time;

Her hair was a mess, going this way and that,

And after a short story, she was asleep just like that;

The blood in my body had eased up its flow,

But when I came back to momma, she was ready to go;

Her legs were spread eagle, her toy buzzed on her clit,

She stared at me intensely and beckoned me to it;

She was giddy and horny, a right jolly old beauty,

I dropped my towel to the floor and prepared to do my duty;

A wink of my eye and a drop of my head,

I licked and tickled her from the side of the bed;

I spoke not a word, but went straight for her thighs,

And filled all her holes with my tongue and heard sighs;

And running my finger around her pink clit,

I worked and and wiggled and made a jolly mess of it;

She sprang to her knees, and me gave a grunt,

She threw me on the bed and stuck my cock in her cunt;

But I heard her exclaim as she climaxed with me

"Happy Christmas to all, and oh fuck, yes, right there...RIGHT THERE!!!! YES!!!!"

Merry XXXmas.

Krampusnacht

A @BourbonSex Erotic Fiction - Krampusnacht

It was 7:32 pm on the evening of December 5th and Linda sat in the corner watching the merriment. It was her company and, therefore, her party. But she hated Christmas parties. She was there because she had to be and not because she wanted to be. She wore an elegant black dress with a simple teardrop diamond necklace that drew attention down her lean neck, past her collarbones and into her ample cleavage for all the good it would do her. You just can't fuck the help.

      She was not having a good time.

      The wine was not giving her the blissful lowered inhibitions she’d been wanting. Instead, she sat quietly watching her workers go about their time at the holiday party. She watched Mark from sales flirt with Carol from the call center. Stacy from the reception desk was trying desperately to win the attention of Tim from accounting, but Tim seemed intent on flirting with John from IT.


“If her top gets any more open…” Linda said to herself as she watched.

       "Huh?" Deborah, Linda's personal assistant asked.

       "Stacy." Linda said. "She's throwing herself at Tim. Tim's gay. Tim wants to fuck John in IT." She shook her head. "I swear they're all fucking morons, Deborah."

      "Yes, ma'am." Deborah snapped. "Morons."

      "What about you, Deborah? Who do you want to fuck?"

      "Ma'am?"

       "Oh, come on. It's the holiday party, everyone is happy and drinking. There's got to be someone you'd like to fuck."

       "I am happily married." Deborah said sheepishly.

       "Good answer, Deb! I was happily married too." Linda snapped. "But Stan decided my sexual proclivities were just too much for him." She sighed. "In three weeks, it will be a year since the last time I've gotten laid." She threw back the rest of her wine. "I fucking hate Christmas." She poured a small glass and downed it. "And if momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy, right?"

       "Uh... right?" Deborah agreed weakly. She knew what this meant and she decided to go ahead and ask the question. "Why, if I may ask, do you want to ruin the Christmas party? I mean, it is your company and all..." Deborah's voice grew weaker as she spoke and was barely above a whisper as she trailed off.

       "Bah fucking humbug." Linda said. "That's why."

Sexy Chocolate Cake Recipe - A Guest Post by D. Faust

Today's Guest post is from my twitter friend, D. Faust (@TheSmutGeek). It is a recipe for a sinfully chocolaty cake... and I CANNOT WAIT TO TRY IT!!!

D. Faust is an erotic romance story teller, adult toy and book reviewer, sex blogger, and freelance kink writer. You can find more of her work at www.SmutGeek.com or on Twitter @TheSmutGeek 

Sexy Chocolate Cake Recipe
A Guest Post by D. Faust

I broke the kiss and leaned in to put my lips to my husband’s ear. “We’d better get going.”

Mr. Faust sighed and released his hold on my hips with evident misgivings about ending our impromptu make-out session. “What did you need from the store again?”

I could tell from the tone he was already worrying about trudging through some super store for groceries, an activity he dreaded in general but especially close to the holiday season. Rolling my eyes I went to go get my shoes on. “I just need to hit World Market and grab a beer.”

“A beer?” Mr. Faust asked, running his hand over my ass and outlining my panty lines through my skirt.

“Sticky Toffee Pudding Ale,” I explained with a smirk. Mr. Faust smiled a little as the realization hit him. He knows I only buy that particular beer for one reason.

My Very Sexy Chocolate Cake

I love chocolate and I’m a fan of a moist cake. As a hobby baker, I desired to master my skills in both of these areas. I’m still working on that mastery but I do believe I’ve developed quite the arsenal of recipes over the years and my favorite is this cake recipe.

It began as Guinness chocolate cupcakes I made for a former Mistress. Since then I learned more about cake and tried other beers in boozy baking.