Reading Snaf's and KayDee's blogs recently has been a little like being backstage watching the audience reaction to a new Broadway production. The show - a musical, methinks, called Let the Spunk Fly - is a physical show, full of nudity and grunts that has a climax with a twist: there is no climax.
All of us backstage are men, in on the plot twist. And those in the audience are all women, who have no idea what's about to happen.
The real trick of the show is that the women leave thinking that something's happened, when in fact nothing has.
Okay, okay, enough of the smart-arse metaphors.
It looks like lots of chicks are surprised that they're not the only ones providing artificial orgasms. My reaction is everyman's - Huh? You mean I fooled you the way you fooled me?
Frankly, I really don't care that much. Sometimes I won't want to express my reproductive fluids, but it doesn't seem like that big of a deal. There's always next time. And we got to spend naked or semi-naked fun time together, right?
My question of women is: What else don't you know about your men?
Bottoms Up, Fuckers!
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