Dino - Part 2

Dino thought and thought and then, in a hurry, thought some more. He could have yelled for help and probably scared them all, and maybe they would have blamed him for what had transpired. He could have closed his eyes, and let the moment pass, but alas Dino, had a soft heart of gold, and he couldn’t let it pass. Besides he liked the little girl much too much to just let her go.

Thus there was no time to be wasted and Dino’s decision was made. He followed the winding trail of little footsteps till they abruptly stopped. There hidden beneath the bushes, he saw a little black hole, but too little for any girl to slip and fall thru. Dino bent over his huge frame, till he could peer at the little black hole from close … and in one slow sweeping moment he toppled over into the hole. And then, within moments, he was falling and falling, and falling very fast, through the dark and towards a distant bright light. He crashed softly into a bed of lilies with the most beautiful fragrance he had ever smelt, and quickly his senses lulled him into deep sleep.

Dino woke up to strange voices and gaiety in the distance. He felt so light, in fact so very very small. He looked at himself and was absolutely shocked. Gone was the Dino as he was nowhere to be seen. In his stead was now a little boy, lying amongst the lilies. As he sat up he saw a wondrous sight. Of lights and colors and more amazing still, little people that looked like pixies, and then there were elves and then the little pretty fairies fluttering everywhere. And it seemed like everyone was dancing away to the most melodious tunes. Dino, the little boy, had never seen so much fun in his entire life.

Pray, he asked. Tell me what the celebration is all about. And have you perchance seen a pretty little girl anywhere around?

The nearest elf groaned. Oh Please, Please make it all stop. We are tired from all this dancing. Could you, my boy, somehow help us make it stop?

And that was the strangest request he had heard in his whole life. He looked closer and saw that they were indeed unhappy; so were the elves, the pixies and so too the fairies. He would never have believed that so much festivity could be the reason for displeasure.

Pray, he turned to the elf that had spoken, Dear Elf I do not know how to make the dancing stop. Perhaps you could tell me so that I could help.

Oh my dear boy, you should know, for you are the chosen one from the ancient scripts in the tombs. If there was anyone that knew how to make it all stop, then that would be you and only you my boy.

.But I am just a Dino, the boy almost sighed, and stopped himself short of uttering it aloud, lest then he would have to explain what a Dino was all about. Not only that, he did love being the little boy and not a Dino, and this was just like a dream come true.

But these elves and the pixies and the fairies seemed good and so they needed to be helped, perhaps, even though he knew he was not the chosen one, let alone a little boy. Yet, at that moment, in his mind, a strange vision formed. Of a princess so pretty, she could dazzle the sun, and he, the Dino, kissing her with all his heart.

And Dino, the boy, sat upright in shock. Kiss her? Now, that was a task that seemed more daunting than crossing the seven seas to capture a rogue troll.

Sand

Caution: 4X's - To be read only by those over the age of 70
accompanied by both parents...

They flew in, unendingly, to strike my face in a never ending stream, only to slide off helplessly into the sand all around me. Few fresh grains settled on my parched lips and replaced yet others that lost their futile perch and rolled off to be lost forever. Perhaps each has a story to tell. They stretched for as far as the eye could see, blotted only by the occasional dunes, that seemed to race to somewhere, every eon that I slit open my tired eyes. Perhaps like me, they too travel to meet a loved one, for when I next flicker open my eyes to the bright white light; they seem to have melted into the ocean of sand, only to arise again, later, elsewhere, in a seemingly celestial dance of love.

Come, tread softly, for my love is here, lost in these sands. I await here motionless, bereft of feelings, of heat or pain, just of love and peace, for I know that when I have almost reached the end of time, she will arise in the distance, out of the dancing sand, a beautiful wavy silhouette that walks out to towards me, her enchanting hips swaying ever so softly, with the gentlest heaves of her beautiful breasts beckoning me to wet my parched throat. I have unashamedly thirsted, forever, for the buds of her nipples, wanting to suck on them and let my lifeless form pass into her arms and be in peace. But I am always left behind to wait yet another eon till I see her again, till when I despair.

The soft measured chimes of her payal sail out to me with the wind, and I open my eyes to watch her tread the sand, yet again, softly in a dance, one feet ahead of the other, her wavy hands caressing the winds almost as gently as they lustfully embrace her body almost making my heart beat yet again for her.

Her foot stops, perched in mid air, yet again, glancing left, at some unseen, unspoken presence, the last chime dying a slow lingering death in the winds. I open my mouth and cry out silent words for her to come to me. Wait, here I am, I have been waiting for you, let me bury my face in your breasts, let me bury my face in your navel and kiss you, let the enticing smells of your womanhood breathe life into my lifeless form…

But, she has long forgotten. She has set her feet down gently turning towards the unseen, a smile of pleasure playing on her lips. A gentle tug and her robe slides of her breasts and over her bare form and falls at her feet in the sand. She stands stark - her naked body glistening in the sun, expectant, her dark tresses flying over her shoulders and caressing her firm curved breasts, the soft tuft of black in her crotch alluring and wet. She is flung on her back, her hands and legs hanging free off the ground, her body floating in mid air. Unseen hands part her legs and gently turn her towards me, letting me see as her pink petals part, contort and get caressed, in front of my eyes, as her soft sounds sails out to me. I watch her forced open and then closed as some unseen form enters her in rhythm.

I close my eyes yet again, waiting, pining, wanting, desiring …

Night

The cold chill of the salty breeze hit my bare skin as I stood in the dark of the porch, coiled and wound up inside, leaning against the wooden railing. Earlier, I had felt the reckless need to leave my shirt unbuttoned - perhaps it was the mood of the evening, perhaps it was the company, but now alone, and hidden from view, I ripped off my buttons gasping for breath, in the chilly night. I did not care for the chill. Every muscle in me felt taut. Like the black silhouette of a panther, perched in the dark of the tree, relaxed, dozing, yet awake, muscles taut and glistening, ready to pounce on its prey. I could feel a relentless ache, deep inside, and coursing through all my bodily muscles as they grew tauter in a stranglehold, unlike anything I had ever felt before. Raw desire had made my throat parched dry, yet this was not thirst, nor would I allow it to possess me. I breathed softly, cautiously, staggering, holding on to the railings, feeling my body’s cry for air, in pain, more from passion than from the cold. I looked aimlessly into the night, watching the moon, as it rippled and broke on the surface repeatedly over the rolling waves.



I could hear her voice and an occasional laugh, and his, whispers, softly in the calm of the night, from the living room. Many a time I had turned and watched her guiltily, hidden from view, yet, at other times, I refused to turn, fighting the unknown enemy that was within me. I would not dare show my emotions, never ever to her. I could see her, imagine rather, resting casually against his chest, her head thrown back, happy in abandon, looking exceptionally beautiful, making my heart skip a beat in pain. There is something so beautiful about a woman when she is happy, that makes me wish the world would stop and let myself be lost in her warmth. Yet these moments weren’t mine to ask. I would not dare, lest my thoughts cast a shadow on her delight.



She had smiled kindly at me, yet, tonight, I had hoped my smile wouldn’t betray my feelings, but her gaze had lasted a moment longer, and I knew I had failed miserably. The man with her was exceptional, charming, and all care, hovering over her, I realized I was but a far cry of a man than him, and she glowed and melted in his presence. I couldn’t help but notice, torn by the guilt of my own emotions, of her exquisite elegance, of how her clothes, though dressed extremely modest, not a trace of skin exposed, followed the lines of her body, flattering her not so modest curves. Today they seemed to hug her skin even more, showing her curves and I caught my breath sharply at the way her breasts curved in to meet at her chest. I was acutely aware of her breasts gently brushing against his chest, often, as she stood close to him, melting easily into his arms, in his love, looking up at his face, oblivious to the world. They were lost in each other, and I stood excruciatingly aware that I would betray my emotions sooner or later.



So I stood, out in the chill safety of the open moonlit night, helplessly sensing their sensual abandon. As the night wore, and everyone retired, I stayed yet, in the shadows, fighting myself, waiting, not knowing the next move. I heard them leave, turned and saw them from where I was, arm in arm, and I could sense her body stretched against his, full of desire perhaps. They would make love soon, for sure – the body language left nothing to imagination.



It was dark and still, and no one was about. Soon I saw them walk out into the sand, holding hands, close against each other. She seemed to playfully weave away as his hands sought to touch her modesty, but she moved back in close for more, obviously loving the moments, brushing against him in a game of unbridled desire. I stood breathless, afraid, as he pushed her roughly against an old table bench under the shade of the trees. No! I cried in my mind, please, not now. But I knew it was futile. I heard her soft cry and his deep laugh as she arched back on the table his hands played at her body and then his mouth buried into her, amidst gasps, as her hands and legs beat at him helplessly.



They parted momentarily and I saw her fair skin, and I sensed her top had been ripped open in that embrace. Yet she didn’t seem to feel the cold. But neither could I and I was but a burning cauldron of fire. He had one of her legs hooked by the knees, her body almost dangling free onto the table and her other leg hung limp and free by the side of the table. He had her dress bunched up at her waist, his hands moving vigorously just under them as she writhed, almost in pain, her hands tearing into his chest, helplessly. And then he held her legs parted wide, wider and in the most unwomanly of ways possible, and then he coupled into her, hard, the faint moan and the gasp sounding like a distant explosion under the breeze. I feared the table wouldn’t hold as they were half stretched over the table in a vicious embrace of passion and I could hear her frenzied faint passionate cries in the still of the night, barely audible, yet very unlike a moan, as he moved silently and relentlessly into her. She was arched against him, joined at the navel, rising with him as if in fear, as he moved back, only to fall back crashing heavily again and again, onto the table, as he raked into her body, increasing in speed. I staggered in pain, breathing labouredly, their passion drowning my own silent cries of desire. They climaxed in a furious frenzy, and the momentum did not die, they kept going long after they were spent, and stayed coupled in one another a long time. I probably heard her purring occasionally as I stood frozen in place, desiring, yet furiously full of guilt, not wanting to move, breathless and almost dizzy, and feeling faint from the unrelenting pain of want and yet not wanting. I was so ashamed, yet at the same time so unashamed.



I stayed motionless in my pain and watched them make love twice more, enduring it, secretly loathing myself for having relished it. At long last, they retired to their rooms exhausted, laughing under their breaths, perhaps at their reckless love making. The way she repeatedly gathered her clothes around herself I knew they were in shreds. She staggered, perhaps in pain, when she tried to walk, and he caught her against him, and leaned across to massage her thighs. Her light embarrassed laugh hung in the chill of the night. They finally made it to their beds and their lights dimmed, and I fell to my knees, gasping for breath, and shivering uncontrollably. I wondered if I could survive this pain. I wondered if I would want to survive this pain. Yet in my thoughts, I caught myself having noticed them not having had time to use protection and perhaps, perhaps, she would milk soon, her breasts much larger, wouldn’t hers be sweet and soft to tongue and taste, wouldn’t he feed hungrily on her sweet milk to his hearts content …



I then realized sadly that I was forever damned, beyond redemption, for harboring such thoughts.

DINO ... a fairy tale :)

Toothy, congrats on your wonderful debute as a Fairy Tale Writer - poetess

Once upon a time, long long ago, far far away, in a far away land, there lived, a very very old, and a very very big, and a very very mean, scary big dino. He was so very big, that he wouldn’t fit, in through any door, or into any home, or into any courtyard, and he never could remember, when he could fit, his big fat butt, into his cave, in the tall steep mountains, by the deep blue river. He was so very big, in fact, that he couldn’t fit, into anyone’s hearts, and this made our dino, very very sad, for the children would run, when they saw him coming, and scream and scream, till they could scream no more. And the poor old dino, would shed a big large tear, which alas, would never reach the ground, for he was so cursed, by this very wicked witch, who made his breath, so very hot, that he couldn’t drink a sip, or eat a morsel, of anything that was cooked, for it would overcook and burn, and no one ever knew, our mean scary dino, was really very sad.

Once when our dino, was still a very little dino, and was so very naughty, that he made his mom dino cry, and yell every other day, “Baby Dino!!! Look where you puff, and especially don’t puff, here nor there, nor into the sky, or at nice looking ladies, passing by”. But Baby Dino didn’t heed, and he puffed and he puffed, and he puffed here, and he puffed there, and he puffed into the sky, and woe betides!!! He puffed right at the witch flying by, and he burnt her broom, and vroom she fell, right from the sky, and landed on her head, with her gown over her head, and her legs up in the air. And was she furious at him. She cursed our poor dino, then and there for all time to come. And Baby Dino cried, “But Momma, she’s not a nice, just an ugly old witch”. And the witch got even madder, than a rat with her tail on fire. And from that day forth, Baby Dino had a very hot breath, and his momma cried, and she said, “He would never be able to kiss a girl ever”. And Baby Dino wasn't really sure, why he would ever, want to do something, as stupid as that.

And so it was, Baby Dino grew, and grew and grew, and grew till he could grow no more. He grew sadder, with every passing day.

Till one day, a small little girl, in her white little dress, and her hair tied up, in the loveliest of ponies, with nice pink ribbons, came dancing to the river, with a pail in her hand, to fetch some water, for her mother. She spotted a pretty little fish, shining like gold, swimming in the water, and the fish was so pretty, that she hummed a little tune, to the pretty little fish, with her head held at a tilt, and she watched and watched, till she could see the fish no more. Then with a little sigh, she filled her pail, and then like all pretty women, from very very little, to very very big, she too looked into the clear blue water she had in her pail, and at her pretty little face, and smiled, dreaming of some nice handsome prince, on the prettiest white horse, and with a lollipop in his mouth. And it was then, that she saw this cute little baby dragon fly, with bright colors, yellow, red and blue, flit in and out, amongst the tall green grass, and weeds, hovering in and around, the wild lilies. Forgetting her pail, she went after the dragon fly, into the tall grass, and in between the weeds, pushing them aside, with her tiny little hands. And chase it she did, for the little dragon fly was smart, and knew how to dodge, and fly between the blades, of tall green grass. And the little girl ran, and she ran and she ran, till … she stepped into nothing, and disappeared into the grass. The dragon fly paused, frozen in the air, and wondered what had just occurred, for one instant the pretty girl was there and then the next she was gone, she was lost to this world, and no one had seen, other than the pretty little dragon fly, and alas it could not speak.

But despair not friends, for our mean scary Dino, head high up in the clouds, was watching the little girl, as he dearly loved all children, and would always watch them play, afraid to shed a tear, and afraid they would be scared, and so he stayed his distance with a very sad heart. His jaw dropped, and he burnt a passing cloud, as the girl was there a moment, and the next she was not, vanishing right before his eyes.

To be continued….

SILENCE .. xxx .. get parental permission ;)

Erotica: yes ..... Literary Pleaure: Absolutely ... Toothy you are amazing ~ poetess

An uneasy silence, the gloom of the early morning, after a night of heavy rains, the gentle faraway swirl, of freshly formed streams, wet dripping sounds, hushed, muted, on the soft wet sand, - the gentle chill of the wind, bringing in the smell of fresh wet sand, and foliage, soaking into the depths of the body, setting off shivers of raw desire coursing through the five senses. She stood motionless, lost, numbed, in the dark dilapidated shed, in her ankle length skirt, acutely aware of the smell of the well oiled tools and grease, and wet wood, sending a shiver down the back of her spine and the insides of her legs, making her draw them together in a gentle caress, and sensing the soft texture as the skins touched. The presence of faint sweat in the chill air assailed her senses, the vision of his bare biceps and bristly unshaved face, unkempt hair and bandaged bloodied wrists. The strings of raw muscles rippling under his skin as she had watched him strain, sawing, sweat dripping into the grooves of his finely chiseled body. She had cautiously glanced at the flat taper of his navel into his khaki trousers, and watched mesmerized the silhouette of his firm member sliding under the fabric, making her almost gasp for breath and want it sliding against her bare palms as she cupped them.

She had hid in the shadows, flushed and guilty, desiring this unkempt workman old enough to be her dad. She wasn’t supposed to be in the tool shed, let alone all by herself, but raw animal instincts were beginning to surface in her, drawing her in a fatal attraction to the sculpted form of this raw man. It hadn’t been long since she had grown aware of the curves of her breasts and the sensation as fabric touched her soft mound. She would at times feel herself in the privacy of the dark or behind closed doors, then daring to try the same, adrenalin pumping, in circumstances where she could have been spotted by someone, although always safely away from the casual eyes.

Today she had felt reckless, maybe it was the weather. She had been breathless all morning and very moist. The intense drive was insatiable. She had slipped into the tool shed, unseen, hoping to run into him, feeling reckless. She had been disappointed, and yet in a way glad, that he wasn’t around, maybe stepped out for an errand. She stood there soaking in the musk of his presence and the oil and the tools, aroused and numbed, almost paralyzed with desire. She ran her hands over his tools, and smelt her fingers and touched herself freely in the absence of prying eyes. She felt the smooth contours of the wooden handle of the saw still stuck in the half sawed wood and put her lips to its smooth polished wood as she touched herself, tasting the raw dirt and sweat on them with her tongue. She felt increasingly reckless. She took a quick look out the door to make sure the coast was clear, and then she proceeded to take off her panties, gently rolling them down feeling her bare skin with her hands. She gently lowered the handle of the saw to a comfortable level and then raising her skirt, rode over it sliding her moist flesh over the handle, imagining his dirty callous hands, cupping her, and she rode the smooth contours in increasing abandon, she felt the wood and the metal, the jagged edges and the smooth finish, rubbing against her thighs in increasing frenzy. In the moment of rising passion she raised the hem of her skirt way over her head, throwing caution to the wind, naked and exposed, below the waist, to the world, her face covered by her raised skirt, a feeling of raw excitement over letting anyone who walked in see her in the full throes of passion and yet she not see them, and she felt their feverish lust upon her bare flower and thighs as she in orgasmic throes, moaned, softly, repeatedly, over the wooden handle. Spent and breathless, she stayed on the handle, eyes closed for a long time, letting it soak in her moisture, and then after a while, she left, still bare, her panties tucked away under her clothes at her waist.

Behind the panel, hidden from sight, the motionless figure stirred, still holding his manhood in a vice grip, and made his way over to the wet saw, knelt, and closed his mouth over the wet wood, and tasted her salty desire.

(1159)

EVERYTHIHG ABOUT NOTHING ;)

G: What is nothing?

Toothy: First, the Bible. God made the man and then made the woman and then He looked at them closely. He looked at the woman and was pleased - she was busy preening. He looked at man and exclaimed – What is this fucker doing? ‘Nothing’!!! So He had to make the Apple - to get the fucker going - and regretted it immediately. In no time He lost track of who was screwing who.

Second, prehistoric. Early man was sharpening his tool. No, I meant his hunting tool. No, no, not what you are thinking. I meant the tool used to hunt animals with. He was sharpening this piece of stone and he got hit in the head… and was blinded momentarily. Since it was the prehistoric Americas, his spouse yelled, ‘Fuckin’ Bear!!’ and he exclaimed, ‘I can’t see ‘nuthin’’ and promptly got kicked in his balls for goofing again. Whoever said prehistoric woman was the thinker? She was the thinker and the doer. The only time in recorded history when man was the doer was when she didn’t have a headache. Even today.

In sheer desperation Fuckin’ Bear stuffed his mouth with the nearest shrubs, chewed on it and sat there in a stupor for hours. His wife, not knowing, simply said he was ‘stoned’. This was recorded in the early cave sketches. Women figures are always upright and the men figures are always at a tilt. Those men were dead stoned.

Galileo was dead stoned too. He sat looking up at the sky, seeing nothing, thinking nothing. Off he went and got a piece of glass and realized, through it, he could see nothing better. So off he went and got two pieces of glass and realized nothing was bigger and better that way. That incidentally was how the telescope came into being. Then he cried out to all who listened - there is nothing between us and the stars. And the Church got offended. They ordered him chained and hanged for blasphemy. The Pope stood in his pulpit and shrieked, ‘Galileo is nothing, and Christ is everything’. And they had to set Galileo free. The Pontiff had expressly declared Galileo was nothing – how do you hang a nothing? The Pontiff had his faith shaken momentarily. He summoned Galileo for a dressing down and Galileo got him stoned. Between the two of them, in one enlightening moment, they decided that the earth and the sun were round and one of the two goes around the other.

And it all had to do with nothing.

TSUNAMI .... a serious study ;)

TSUNAMI, the Disaster of the Century, a Serious Study

Everyone, globally, is aware of the catastrophic incidents surrounding the plate shifts in the Indian Ocean that caused a tsunami of gigantic proportions reaching a few continents. Well known is also the advanced warning system in the Andaman island that was the first marvel of Indian technology at its best detecting the Tsunami much ahead of the rest of the world. From electronic correspondence it was determined that the Tsunami was detected at least one hour before the incidence. Though the station-incharge was having a cup of chai at his favorite adda at the time, a general alert was automatically relayed electronically to the command center on the Indian Mainland, from where it was immediately relayed on to the Prime Ministers Office within a few hours, the delay being due to the inability to locate the Environment Minister on time. However, prompt action was initiated, and a high power delegation was hurried assembled and immediately headed for the Andamans in Chetak transport helicopters, built indigenously, to receive Mr. Tsunami on arrival. It has to be further noted that all members of the delegation returned home safely after being unable to locate the islands. Around the same time the tsunami hit the Indian coasts and Sri Lanka. Also to be noted, but of a lesser significance, is the finding of a uniformed station-incharge on the shores of Somalia, still holding a porcelain cup. That incidentally prompted a high level study of the floatation properties of porcelain in extreme environments.

The first crisis to arise in the aftermath of the tsunami was an international incident caused by the international press API, FPI and the UTPs that reported obstruction of fair reporting. Further investigation revealed that the obstruction was caused by millions of colorful lungis covering the entire affected areas and rooftops obscuring a clear view of the disaster area. The then Environment Minister from UP, who was earlier involved in the imposition of Hindi on the state of Tamil Nadu, immediately issued a ban on lungis, which caused a riot resulting in the death of a further few hundred. This was hurriedly withdrawn. However, further irrefutable studies found that rescue workers rescued thousands of lungis from the flood waters without any people in them, confirming the hazard of wearing lungis. A consensus was arrived at and it was decreed, keeping in mind the possibility of further tsunamis, it was mandatory for all lungi wearers to wear a flare. Protests from the opposition BJP were quelled only after they were assured the flares were saffron in color. Further the Shiv Sena insisted on all saffron flares being worn at the waist line on religious grounds and not any lower. There have been numerous reported incidents involving misfiring of the flares at inopportune moments, causing the loss of certain important bodily functions. Further support for the flare movement came from the then Railway Minister Lalloo Prasad who sanctioned 200 crores worth of flares to be fitted on every train and millions of bhains across Bihar between their legs. It was no surprise then that some of the future generations of bhains were born blind.

One of the smaller temples, not far from the world famous Tirupathi was the site for another important historical event. The main pujari and assistant pujaris were performing an important and a large yagna for the deliverance of the land from drought when the Tsunami hit. The main pujari barely survived by hanging onto one of the large bells in the temple premises. When the water receded, a visibly shaken main pujari, found a dead Indonesian man right on top of his yagna. Not having seen an Indonesian before, the pujari noted the man was compressed short, his eyes rendered cross-eyed and his skin was yellow. 500 years hence, it would be noted in the Hindu scriptures of the day of the Sea God’s Wrath, unleashing deadly waves that wiped out the clouds from the skies. It also had further eyewitness claims by some pujari - that the Tsunami turned man into short, cross-eyed, and yellow skinned creatures. As an offering to appease the Sea God, yellow flowers are offered every year during the month of December and penance is performed by the hundreds of devotees by being cross-eyed for an hour.

To be continued …

ROMANCING THE MISERY

I am going to get killed for this... but someday I too will be a classified a horny Khushwant Singh for writing the absurd. I know, that the women would say that the damn men species are so outrageously impossible, their attitudes are so wooden, that they couldn't think up any sentence of over four words without getting horny, their absolutely laziness and their absolute fascination and infatuation with outdoor games when they are on a TV. So here is my take on the womanly maladies. (Don't bother ... I have called 911).

I would say that I believe, right in the very depths of my soul, that inborn in almost all females, is the concept of 'Romancing the Misery'. A woman without a misery is probably a woman without a head and not a complete woman at all. I mean she could really be lost. But a woman with a misery to mull over is at peace with herself. For she now knows the answers to the beyond - the realm of her miseries, and the satisfaction that they are here to stay and never go away.

She would put her most abject misery on a pedstal and promptly fall in love with it. She would worship it and rever it. Spend hours in intense pondering, reflection, contemplation, absolute pensiveness, complete with the correlation and interlinking with the cosmic and celestial entities and a spiritual bonding at an elavated higher calling, that would put even the best at NASA to shame. And that, to say the least, is as common an occurance as sunrise and sunset. And, now you know why it is that it is the Galileos, that figured out that the Earth moves and not the Sun, and the Newtons, that figured out why it is that the apple falls down and not up, and why it is the Archimedes, that figured out why the penis's rise up and stays up... well ... thats simply because their minds were absolutely blank and empty and very unoccupied unlike the women of our times.

Hehe.