Categories for Guest Bloggers

The Bucking Bronco: St. Patrick’s Day, Drunken Sex Advice Edition

March 17, 2010 by Guest Blogger
Karla James: Rendering beer goggles unnecessary.

Karla James: Rendering beer goggles unnecessary.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and you know what that means, don’t you? It means that every guy in the bar tonight will throw on the beer goggles and try to fuck anything that walks. And probably some inanimate objects, too.

The idea of beer goggles was always funny to me. We drink and we drink until every girl at the bar becomes pretty, at which point we can then take them home, fuck them and not be disgusted with ourselves. You know, because we’re such fucking studs that we have to be absolutely bombed to go dumpster diving with a girl who isn’t a fucking super model. Or, you know, maybe it’s just our own insecurities. Beer goggles don’t transform ugly girls into pretty girls. They transform uptight douchebags into normal human beings.

We say that being drunk is an excuse to fuck someone we wouldn’t normally fuck, but the truth is, WE WOULD ABSOLUTELY FUCK THAT GIRL! We just don’t want to get made fun of by our male friends who are hiding behind those same exact insecure thoughts. Sometimes, as men, we really are just that stupid.

That’s why being shit-faced is great. When you’re THAT gone, you’re not thinking about anyone other than you. That girl on the dance floor who’s more Khloe than Kim (Kardashian)? The girl at the bar who may be packing a little extra around the midsection? You’ll totally try to fuck those girl in the parking lot now! And that’s good, because one of them might be the blow job champion of her hometown. And the other one might secretly love anal. And you wouldn’t have known any of that if you were too busy being terrified of what one of your insecure, jackass friends was going to say about you the next day.

If you’ve ever been one of those douchebag guys–and believe me, we all have–don’t go feeling bad about it now. It’s human nature to be insecure. You just need a way to overcome it. That’s why, this St. Paddy’s Day, I want you to go out and get hammered. I want you to drink till you’re blind and can’t form complete sentences. I want you to do as many Jägerbombs as it takes to break free from the shackles of your own insecurities and fuck the girl with the hairy arms.

Because you never really know what you’re missing out on until you ride it like a drunken cowboy.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Now go fuck something.

The Bucking Bronco: It’s a hard cock life for us…

March 10, 2010 by Guest Blogger
For some lucky guy, fucking Alexis Silver is just another day at the office.

For some lucky guy, fucking Alexis Silver is just another day at the office.

At around 10 o’clock last night, I still had no clue what to write about, so I took to Twitter to get some ideas from my 150 or so followers. (Yes, I realize exactly how lame that sounds. Feel free to mock me accordingly.) They posed some interesting questions about porn, but one, in particular, caught my attention:

“Would you ever consider doing it?”

Believe it or not, in the three years that I’ve worked here and 14 years that I’ve been watching porn, I had never once thought about this question. So, would I?

I’d like to think that if I ever got the chance, I’d be the world’s best porn stud. I’d be that guy that all of the models were clamoring to work with. You’d look at my IMDB page and it would be like 700 porn movies long. And half of them would be well-known movies. Regular people would know me by name, and they’d stop me on the streets for autographs. I’d be that male porn star who transcends the business and winds up getting a lead role in the next Tarantino flick.

Of course, that was just my initial thought process. Admittedly, it has some flaws. After giving it some real thought, the truth is that I would never want to be in porn. Ever. And that’s probably best for all of us here today.

For starters, I don’t have the body for it. Most porn stars are ripped and/or hung like horses. I’m neither. I’m actually fairly average, and in porn, fairly average just doesn’t sell DVDs.

I’m also no good under pressure. Put me in a room with a girl and a bed and I’m fine. Add unbelievably bright lights, a cameraman getting all up in my business, and a director barking instructions and you might as well just replace me with a limp strand of spaghetti because there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to perform under those conditions. I have a hard enough time concentrating when my cat is watching me.

But, assuming I could block all of that out, I would still lack the ability to last for the duration of a movie. It amazes me that those guys can go on for what seems like hours. I’m good for about 15 minutes, tops. And that’s with an average-looking girl. I couldn’t even imagine how quickly I’d be done if the girl looked anything like Alexis Silver. I’d maybe be able to pull off a 30-second commercial, but that’s about it.

The biggest problem I’d have, though, is this: I don’t know that I’d ever want people I know to see me naked. Some folks are perfectly comfortable with that sort of thing. I’m not. I’m that guy in the locker room, showering in his underwear, like a seven-year-old.

Call me a bitch if you want, but being a porn stud is a lot harder than it looks (pun intended), and I’m just not up to the task. What about you guys, though? Be honest. If we offered you the chance, would you jump on it? Or would you keep your day job?

The Bucking Bronco: There’s real life, and there’s porn. Thank god for porn.

March 3, 2010 by Guest Blogger
"So, honey, I was thinking we could... uhh... try... umm... Eh, never mind."

"So, honey, I was thinking we could... uhh... try... umm... Eh, never mind."

Nothing against my 7th grade health teacher, but most of what I know about sex, I learned from porn and a little bit of trial and error. That’s probably not a good thing. I mean, sure, porn can show you the right things to do to a woman, but if you’re not careful about what aspects of it you bring into the bedroom, it can also get you a swift kick to the groin.

This week, I’ll share with you some of my insight, with the hope that maybe you won’t make the same mistakes I, and countless other men, have made in the past. You probably will, anyway, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…

I’ve learned that pizza delivery guys don’t get nearly the amount of ass that porn would have you believe, that it takes a lot more than a handful of spit to attempt a rear entry and that when everything is over, the cameras don’t just fade out…you actually have to clean shit up.

I’ve learned that some sexual positions are meant for photographic purposes only. You know that one position you always see, where the woman is basically doing a handstand while the guy stands on the couch and plows away from above? Who are they kidding? That can’t be comfortable for any of the parties involved. Just trust me on that one. It’ll save your girlfriend a trip to the chiropractor.

I’ve learned that if your wife’s hot friend is giving you “the look,” that is not, in fact, the best time to suggest maybe trying a threesome. Actually, I’m pretty sure there’s never a good time to suggest that. Ever. Especially not with any of her friends. Let’s face it. If you haven’t been involved in a threesome by the age of 30, that window of opportunity has pretty much closed. Could it happen? Certainly. Is it likely? Don’t go getting your hopes up. Just remember that beds are a lot more comfortable to sleep on than couches.

I’ve learned that even though porn stars seem to love it when a guy blasts one onto their face, your wife or girlfriend probably isn’t too eager for you to do the same. And even if she agrees, that seductive look that porn stars give when the moment arrives? Don’t expect that from your girl. She’ll most likely be squinting her eyes and scrunching up her face like she’s staring into the sun.

Basically, what I’ve learned is that some things are better left to the professionals. If you happen to have a girl who enjoys a little real-life porn action, then more power to you. Keep on keepin’ on. For the rest of us, though, let’s simply appreciate what porn stars do and just enjoy it from the safety of our computer screen.

There’s less of a chance of someone getting hurt that way.–Adam

Jade Parker’s feature movie debut!

March 2, 2010 by Guest Blogger

Hey guys. This is Allie. Long time no post!

Apologies for being so inactive on the blog, but I’ve been keeping busy behind the scenes with 18eighteen and XL Girls magazines.

Now, 18eighteen and XL Girls are about as polar opposite as you can get. But there’s one thing that readers of both magazines have in common: Redheads. They can’t get enough of ’em, and every month I get letters requesting more.

One redheaded babe in particular got a lot of attention in her XL debut in the Sept. ’09 issue (Special #187) and again in her interview in the Feb. ’10 issue (Special #193): Jade Parker. Reader B.C. from New Jersey wrote in saying, “I’d love to lick between Jade’s big, spread cheeks, tasting her hot balloon knot and slowly running my tongue all over her big, white bum.” And he wasn’t the only one. Guys were infatuated with her juicy ass as much as they were with her huge H-cup tits.

Now you guys get to see her again, this time in hardcore action in the movie K-Jugs. I had the pleasure of interviewing her while she was here for that shoot, and I can confirm that Jade is both a sweetheart and a freak! If you don’t believe me, just read her interview in XL Girls #193. Threesomes, gang-bangs and fucking on the side of the road are all part of her sexual repertoire.

So now that I’ve told you how much Jade loves to fuck, see it for yourself in this preview of her hardcore scene from K-Jugs. Enjoy!

The Bucking Bronco: Where do you hide your porn?

February 24, 2010 by Guest Blogger
Ashley Sage Ellison hides her porn in her cleavage.

Ashley Sage Ellison hides her porn in her cleavage.

Last week, I solicited the help of you, the reader, for topics for this week’s “Bucking Bronco.” In the least surprising news of the decade, you failed me. Miserably. Therefore, you’re stuck with the topic du jour: why the hell do we hide our porn?

Get this. Even I hide my porn.

Now wrap your minds around that for a second. I’m a 28-year-old man who works in porn. My live-in girlfriend knows exactly what I do for a living. Even my parents are fully aware that I get paid to stare at naked women for eight hours a day. And yet, when I go home at night and turn on the computer, I have to click through a half-dozen secretly named folders just to find a picture of Ashley Sage’s beautiful boobs.

I’m not joking. And when I hide my porn, I go all out. I become a fucking ninja. You’re not going to come over to my house and find some gang bang action sitting right on my computer’s desktop. No, I tuck that shit inside of a folder, which goes inside of a folder, which goes inside of another folder, all named after some fake computer software that I know nobody in their right mind would ever go looking through. I name those folders all sorts of weird shit, too: RSU_Updates, WinPRN, BBMO98. The more intense the porn, the more elaborately I name the folder.

Even your Internet browser knows you’re playing 007 with that stuff. That’s why Firefox, Chrome and every other browser give you the option to start a “Private Browsing” session. Who, exactly, was that designed for, other than people looking at porn? Have you ever been looking at CNN’s website and thought, “Man, I really wish there were a way for me to hide this from my wife…” Of course not. It’s all about hiding the porn.

And here’s the reason.

No matter how confident your girl is in your relationship, no matter how much she trusts you, there’s always going to be that chance that she finds your porn collection on the one day she’s feeling insecure. And then you’re fucked. Because, generally speaking, women don’t see things the same way men do. As men, we know that even though our sex life may be fine, we’d like to watch an Asian girl get pounded in the ass once in a while. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we wish it were us. It just means that we appreciate that someone else filmed it for our enjoyment. Hey, who are we to argue?

If a woman were to find this on a particularly a bad day, though, you better believe you’re going to be having insecure, lights-off, missionary sex for the better part of a month. Good luck with that. Of course, that’s only going to come AFTER the three-hour “What does she have that I don’t?” conversation. And don’t even act like you haven’t had that one before.

So, in order to prevent this terrible chain of events, we bury our porn like a treasure chest. It may seem dumb, but it’s a necessary part of being a man. Admit it. You do it, too. It’s not an act of cowardice, so don’t feel ashamed. It’s just smart. Because in a perfect world, you can let the boobs roam free. But here in the real world, they’ve gotta be kept a few mouse clicks away from civilization.

Feel free to share your porn-stashing secrets in the comments below. Or tell us if you’re the pornographic rebel who leaves his shit out there for the world to see. Or just call me a jerk off. Whichever you prefer.

Guest blogger: Memories of a long-time SCORE Man

February 21, 2010 by Guest Blogger

Hi, Fellow Readers,

My name is Jack, and I’ll be your guest blogger for today. I would like to take you on a little trip down memory (actually mammary) lane. I hope this journey will bring back many fond memories for long-time readers, while younger readers may also be interested in the early days of SCORE.

The first issue of SCORE.

The first issue of SCORE.

It was in June 1992 that the first issue of SCORE magazine hit the newsstands. I was fortunate to purchase a copy and discovered that this new big-bust magazine was really something special. I was instantly taken with SCORE and found the slim ‘n’ stacked models absolutely incredible. This was the heyday of the super-busty enhanced models (Busty Dusty, Colt 45, Sarenna Lee). I’m sure many older readers remember these issues.

I have always enjoyed SCORE since the beginning and have become a long-time subscriber. How about you? What was your first experience with SCORE Group products? Did you first purchase a magazine? Which issue? Do you still have the first issue your purchased?

L.A. Bust, the first SCORE Girl

L.A. Bust, the first SCORE Girl

Long before Christy Marks, Karina Hart, Marilyn Sakova, Linsey Dawn Mackenzie, Sharday and Minka, there was a SCORE model named LA Bust. She was on the cover of the first SCORE magazine, and like many models of the early 1990s, LA had a spectacular enhanced bust. She also had a great camera presence, lovely smile and soon became one of the first SCORE fan favorites.

As they say, the rest is history. From this humble beginning, SCORE magazine became a regular monthly magazine featuring slim ‘n’ stacked models. Through continuous improvement and listening to its readers input and views, The SCORE Group went onto to produce several more successful magazines to suit particular niche interests. Voluptuous (1994) became a fan favorite through featuring natural big-busted models.

The SCORE Group also began producing VHS video tapes so fans could enjoy their models in live action and sound. I purchased The Greatest Big Bust Video (Volumes I and II), which are both testaments to the early super-stacked SCORE and Voluptous models. I have subsequently got the DVD versions.

How about you? What was your first purchased video (or DVD)? Do you still have it (or is it worn out)? Who was your first favorite model?

I suggest younger fans view The Greatest Big Bust Video (Volumes I and II) to fully appreciate this early era of the super-busty enhanced models. Later, The SCORE Group produced DVDs, which improved picture and sound quality.

Since the beginning, The SCORE Group staff has always worked hard to provide excellent customer service and top-quality products for our viewing pleasure. The SCORE Group continued to evolve and extend their products to bring the best to its reader base. For example, SCORE magazine pioneered the inclusion of XXX material, which today is more widely accepted and enjoyed by many readers. Today, The SCORE Group literally covers the world to find new models for us to enjoy.

The evolution of the Internet enabled The SCORE Group to create several websites related to the published magazines. The SCORE Group continues to lead the adult entertainment world in product quality, quantity and value. Today, SCORE fans have never had it so good with the range of products available.

I have found a subscription to SCORELAND to be a great entertainment investment. I like the monthly addition of new websites in “My SCORE Sites” for long-term members. Also, the Blog is a great way to express your views and interact with editors and other readers. How about you? Are you a SCORELAND subscriber? What is your favorite feature on the website ?

What will the future bring? Who really knows, but I’m sure The SCORE Group will continue to evolve to meet our needs and interests. So the next time you enjoy a SCORE Group video, magazine or product, remember where it all started, all the time, effort and work involved and then give thanks! Enjoy!

The Bucking Bronco: Wherein we learn that terrible decision making is not limited to blogging

February 17, 2010 by Guest Blogger
Before you challenge Karina Hart to a game of strip poker, make sure she isn't best friends with Chris Moneymaker.

Before you challenge Karina Hart to a game of strip poker, make sure she isn't best friends with Chris Moneymaker.

On Friday, a group of us from SCORE all went out to lunch, like we usually do. The topic of conversation ranged from the girls currently filming in the studio to the New York Mets and all the way back to our worst sexual experiences ever. We really do cover a lot of ground at these outings. And while hearing the tales of Dave’s failed sexual conquests would certainly be the height of anyone’s lunch hour, the topic we touched on the most was your glaring hatred of all things me.

It’s an odd thing. You tell me not to paint visual pictures of my personal masturbation sessions, and I oblige. (And believe me, if I could take anything back in life, it would be that first post. What the hell was I thinking?) You ask me for pictures, and I plaster an enormous one across the top of each post. You beg me to talk about boobs, and I come to you with a shameful confession about my girlfriend’s monstrous rack. So far, I’m 0-3 with a couple of strikeouts and a weak grounder back to the pitcher.

So, let’s try something a little different…

From here on out, you guys get to pick the topic. I said I wanted to make this interactive, and what better way to do that than to give you complete control of the content reaching your screen? Each week, I’ll go through the comments section. see what you guys wanna talk about and choose a topic that seems like it would make the least amount of people hate me. Remember, there are no boundaries, so no topic is too disgusting, offensive or stupid. (Except turkey sandwiches. That’s just dumb. Learned THAT ONE the hard way.)

Since I’m already running long this week, I’ll keep this week’s topic short and to the point:

What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in order to see a pair of oversized boobs?

During my younger years at a house party, I challenged a drunk, well-endowed girl to a game of strip poker. I had no idea she was an online poker junkie. Took her all of 15 minutes to have me with my pants around my ankles in front of the entire party. It was mortifying. I still haven’t fully recovered. And I never did get to see those warlocks.

What about you guys? What traumatizing events have you put yourself through just to catch a glimpse of some super-sized fun? And ladies, what’s the dumbest thing a guy has ever done to try and sneak a peak at what you’re packin’? Also, don’t forget to drop some topics in the comments section, while you’re at it. I swear I’ll do my best to stay on your good side.

The Bucking Bronco: I got 99 problems and the boobs are one

February 10, 2010 by Guest Blogger
Cassandra's boobs look lovely. If only I had any idea what to do with them…

Cassandra's boobs look lovely. If only I had any idea what to do with them…

There are two things I’ve been razzed about during my brief stint as a contributor here at the SCORELAND Blog: not having a girlfriend and jerking off too much.

For starters, while the latter is probably true, to some extent, I’ll wear that label like a badge of honor. After all, it’s not like I jerk off because I can’t get a girl. I jerk off because I can. And the simple fact that it’s the middle of the afternoon and you’re on a porn site probably means that you subscribe to a similar theory.

Whatever. That’s not really all that important right now because today, the topic of conversation isn’t masturbation. Today, I’m coming to you with a confession. Today, I’m asking you folks for a little help.

Here’s the thing. You guys like to poke fun at me for needing a girlfriend, but the truth is, I have one. And the one I have is the one you want. Why? Because she’s cute and she’s funny, and, oh right… because she wears a size 34I bra! Got your attention now, don’t I? That’s not Merilyn Sakova. That’s not Karina Hart. That’s not even Christy Marks. We’re talking Kaytee Carter territory here. We’re talking boobs so big, I don’t even know what to do with them sometimes.

And that’s, sort of, where I need your help.

I know that may sound ridiculous–needing an owner’s manual for boobs does sound pretty silly and all–but here’s the thing: I’m not a boob man. My expertise resides solely in the southern region of a woman’s body. You give me a pair of long legs and a nice ass and I can give you 8,000,000 recipes for warm, delicious pussy pie. But you put a ripe rack in front of me and I can’t even figure out how to turn the oven on.

Now that’s not to say that I don’t like boobs. Nothing could be further from the truth. My girlfriend’s boobs are a thing of beauty. I just don’t have that deep, heartfelt appreciation for them that you folks seem to have around here. I see boobs as merely something to play with. You guys see boobs as something to be placed upon a pedestal and worshiped.

Which is fine because I’m pretty sure they should be. I just don’t understand why, exactly.

So help me out, SCORELAND zealots. Help me understand your boob-based religion. What am I missing? What is it about a woman’s rack that I’m clearly missing but you all see? Help me get inside the mind of a boob lover because until then, I have a feeling I might be wasting something that you all would be very happy to take off my hands.

The Bucking Bronco: Location, location, location…

February 3, 2010 by Guest Blogger

Faith25082

Look up. See that picture of Faith up there? Never let it be said that I don’t take constructive criticism. Now that that’s out of the way, I do have a couple of things that I should probably clear up.

First off, The Bucking Bronco isn’t my name. It was strictly the name of the column. Unfortunately, there was some confusion between Dave and I, and the next thing you know, I’m the douchebag known as The Bucking Bronco. Believe me, as awesome as that name might sound, (heavy sarcasm implied), I think I’m just gonna go ahead and stick with Adam. What you’re reading, however, is… The Bucking Bronco.

Secondly, despite what a few of you may think, I am not, in fact, the janitor at SCORELAND. I’m actually below him; something like a janitorial assistant. It pays well, and I get to carry the bucket.

Now let’s get down to business. This column is sort of an open forum. You can either read it and be on your merry way or join in the discussion and make this a more interactive experience. Don’t hold back, either. Anything goes in here. Just think of it as a night out at the bar with the boys. And ladies, you are most certainly welcome–and openly encouraged–to join in the conversation. I don’t think you’ll hear any complaints from the guys.

So if you’d like to join the fun, follow along. Otherwise, feel free to just sit here and stare at that picture for a while. Nobody will judge you for it.

Welcome to The Bucking Bronco…

Whether you’re married, have a live-in girlfriend or still stay at home with the parents, odds are you likely run into the exact same problem as the rest of us: where the hell can I jack it? In a perfect world, In a perfect world, we would have the perfect solution. Unfortunately, this Utopian concept isn’t as widespread as one might hope, so we just have to sneak off and take care of it ourselves every once in a while. Nothing wrong with a little jerk before work.

Today, we’ll try to figure out some of the best and worst places to bust out your light saber when you’re trying to play a little Hand Solo. All locations will be rated on a cup size of A to DD.

The Computer Room [Grade: A-cup]
I know there’s a computer with access to the best of what SCORELAND has to offer, but is this really the ideal way to go about your business? Have you ever tried to do this with other people in the house? It’s the least enjoyable jack you’ll ever have. Every time your chair makes the slightest noise, you minimize the porn window, so only a sports site is showing.

Have you even imagined what that would look like to the person walking in? There isn’t enough time to minimize the window AND stuff everything back in your pants, so you close the most obvious one first (the porn) and then do your best to put the biscuit back in the basket. Meanwhile, they’re watching you tug at your zipper while there’s a giant picture of Derek Jeter across your computer screen. Good luck explaining that one to the wife. Luckily, you won’t have to. She knows that your obsession with marginally talented shortstops isn’t what had you with your pants around your ankles.

Also, how do you handle clean up? Tissues? Towel? Tube sock? No thank you. You’re better off taking your laptop and heading to the next location…

The Bathroom [Grade: C-cup]
The bathroom is the only room in the house where you can lock the door, hang out for 45 minutes and nobody will ever question it. In their minds, you probably just ate at the Dirty Sanchez Taco Emporium for lunch, so not only do they not want to know, but you’re also in no danger of anyone demanding to come in once you’re situated. Need to brush your teeth, honey? “Uh, no thanks. I, uh… I’ll just go to work with the smell of onion bagel on my breath. I’m good.”

The other good thing about the bathroom is that there’s minimal cleanup. You can blast one right into the toilet, flush, wash your hands and then you’re free to go. No messy tissues or sticky towels that need to be shamefully hidden at the bottom of the laundry hamper. Just a quick flush and not even the cast of CSI will be able to figure out what you were up to.

The only thing I hate about the bathroom is that I always feel dirty doing it in there, like I’m doing something morally wrong. I think it has something to do with the lighting. It makes me feel like I’m jerking off in a mental hospital. But perhaps that’s just a personal hang-up.

The Shower [Grade: DD-cup]
When you need a little privacy, there’s nothing better than popping one off in the shower. There’s soap right next to you, no mess, no cleanup and it just feels like something that’s supposed to be done in there. If there were an official shower checklist, I imagine it would go something like this:

_ Wash hair
_ Pee down the drain
_ Wash body
_ Sing loud and off-key
_ Jerk off
_ Dry off
_ HELICOPTER!

I’ve also recently learned about something called the shower beer. I’m not exactly sure where it would go on the checklist, but its future inclusion is mandatory.

The Bathtub [Grade: B-cup]
Someone pointed this out in the comments section last week, and I thought it was worth a mention. I’ve never actually tried this, but I think he might be onto something with this whole “floating balls” theory. Weightless jerking? It sounds like it might have its benefits, especially for those of us who aren’t in the best of shape, but there’s just one question that needs to be answered: What do you do when you’ve finished and everything is floating on the surface of the water, just above you? That’s gotta be an awkward moment.

I think this one has all the potential to be a D-cup scenario, but until we find a solution to that problem, I can’t grade it any higher than a B-cup.

Well, that’s all I got for you today, folks. Thanks for hanging around, though. If I forgot to mention anything or you know of another place to sneak one in, share it with us in the comments below and help your fellow SCORELAND Blog readers out. Also, as a personal thank you for making it all the way to the end, I offer you this…

Faith25557

Because, really, everyone should have a little Faith. THAT’S how we reward you here at the SCORELAND Blog.

Now if you’ll excuse me, these floors aren’t gonna sweep themselves.

Guest blogger: The Bucking Bronco on The Perfect Jerk

January 27, 2010 by Dave

Good afternoon, folks. I’m Adam and I’ll be steering the ship of masturbatory celebration today. I know change is scary, but I have the utmost confidence that you all can survive a few hours without flirting with Maria or belittling Dave. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I think if we really give it a shot, we can make it through this one together.

Do you trust me? Good. Then follow along.

They say the eyes are the gateway to a man’s soul.  I’d say that statement is absolutely correct.

 

According to Google, in 2009, you jackals were more interested in porn than both Barack Obama and the New York Yankees…combined. But what does it all mean?

It means that if the eyes are the gateway to a man’s soul, then his soul is a majestic land of threesomes and anal sex. Because, clearly, that’s all his eyes have been staring at these past 365 days.

And that’s why I’m here. To peer into your soul. To shine my flashlight on your late-night masturbation sessions. To peek in your window while you’re nailing the drunk girl from the bar. I’m here to bridge the gap between your world and the porn world. Hopefully, by the time I’m done with you, we’ll all understand one simple fact: you, me, the porn star you were jerking off to in that other browser window…we’re not really all that different, after all. Well, maybe she is. But not you and I.

Welcome to The Bucking Bronco, where we’ll take a look at the lighter side of some of life’s most private moments.

This week’s topic: Performing the perfect jerk.

Remember when you were younger and lived with your parents? Do you remember exactly how hard it was to sneak in a good jerk; listening like a fucking hawk because you never quite knew when your mother would bust down your bedroom door, like S.W.A.T., for no apparent reason? Whenever my mom would come to tell me dinner was ready, it always felt like she was auditioning for The A-Team. I never understood why she couldn’t just knock. Luckily, that all changes when you get older. Once you live on your own, you’ll jerk off right at the dinner table if that’s when the mood strikes. There is no greater sexual liberation than moving out of your parents’ house.

It should go without saying, then, that having your own place is the only way to perform the perfect jerk.

Ideally, it takes place early in the morning, on a day when you have nothing else to do. Maybe you’re sitting at the computer, maybe you’re making breakfast, but out of nowhere, you get that undeniable itch. DO NOT IGNORE THIS. IT IS YOUR CIVIC DUTY TO SCRATCH THAT ITCH. This is about the point where you move your laptop and the baby oil to the coffee table so you can lie naked, watching that Asian girl with the huge boobs get double-teamed, from the comfort of your couch. Normally, you would look around to make sure the blinds are closed and the volume on the computer is low, but this is the perfect jerk, so these things are of no concern to you. You’re on a mission. You apply the baby oil liberally and proceed to grunt and talk dirty to the inanimate piece of technology in front of you. Did you just ask your computer if it “liked that big dick?” Fuck. Yes. You did. Be proud.

After about 10 minutes, it’s time for the party to end. But you’re not about to bust into a sock or a paper towel. No fucking way. When you’re in the middle of the perfect jerk, the last thing on your mind is cleanliness. Instead, you just wail away at yourself until you shoot rope after rope through the air and across your stomach and chest, hoping your body acts as a human shield. If done successfully, you should be able to stand up, walk to the bathroom, rinse off and grab a sandwich before your post-jerk nap. For the life of me, I can’t tell you why, but turkey is considerably more tasty in the minutes just after you’ve finished strong-arming yourself. Trust me. It’s science.

So there you have it. The blueprints for the perfect jerk. Some of you already know exactly what I’m talking about. Those of you who don’t, I suggest you take the time to try it out this weekend. And don’t forget the barbeque sauce. (On the sandwich, of course. Well, unless you’re into that sort of thing.) You’ll thank me later.

Next week: Where you jackin’ it?