Groupon

Before too long, we won't refer to people as:

This is Amelia - she's from my book club.

It'll be all:

Let me introduce Suzette - we're members of the same swingers' group.

Which has benefits. Instead of ploughing through insufferable Oprah-approved tomes of PC claptrap, we'll be talking about...how that broad likes being ploughed wheelbarrow-style, how that one likes a little suffocation, and how to deal with The Clap. In a mutually supportive and compassionate way, of course. 

Swingers, too, want to make a difference. Or, more accurately, want someone different - a lot of someones different. It's all the same, though, right?

Be careful, however. Not everyone is hip to group sex as the new social networking. Pity Deborah Sherman, who lost her gig with a Denver television station. As the Denver Post delicately asked:

Did her termination have something to do with the story about a prescription-abusing doctor, whom Sherman met on a swinger website? 

Titanic. Debster's been unfairly victimized here, but I sense there's more to the story. Work for an investigative journalist perhaps?



Bottoms Up, Bottoms Uppers.

If You Touch My Junk...

Photo Credit.

...I'll buy you a drink.

Those of us with a pulse spend an inordinate amount of our lives finding just the right person to touch our junk.

The US federal government is so responsive to the needs of the citizenry that it created an entire bureaucracy to touch your most reactive parts on demand. All you need is an airline boarding pass.

Two changes only needed to current Transportation Sexual-molestation Administration policy:

a. Ditch that homo requirement for only same-sex touch-ups. Viva the power of choice.

b. Offer extended-length junk-touching sessions.




Bottoms Up, High Flyers!

Feminist Literature

Floating around the internet searching for dungeon equipment proved immensely time wasting. Not only are there VERY few vendors, the quality of the goods looks decidedly dodgy. And surprisingly there's not much of a market for second-hand (pre-spanked?) BDSM kit...although maybe not so surprisingly.

Hey, I'll give you fifty for the rack, the standing cage and the two wooden stingers.

What I did find was an enormous amount of porn, which, as we all know, was the reason hand lotion was invented.

One kink I don't understand is this thing of writing shit on a woman. I'm looking at an example now. She's wearing spike heels and a sweet spiked collar. Her master (presumably) used a felt pen to write what amount to instructions all over her. Big arrows point at her cooter saying "For Fucking". On her buttocks, similar arrows lead to her chocolate starfish with the words "Cocks Go Here." On her boobs is the instruction "Cum All Over These" and at various places she's branded a "Slut".

Ooookay.




Exploring Uma photo from here [link]

Dungeon for Rent

The huge number of industrial buildings offered for lease got me thinking the other day. My small Floridian town is suffering from unemployment and idiotic government as much as any place, but there's enough money around for this idea: A Dungeon for Rent.

BDSM (bondage and discipline, submission and sadomasochism) verges on being mainstream thesedays. I presume it's the natural progression from the pornocization of society, but whatever I might think about that isn't going to stop me from making some jink from people's kink.

Big industrial buildings lend themselves to creatively designed dungeons. Mine would be decorated in black, mostly, of course, with blood-red highlights. Lighting would be cheap, as candles are the dungeonmaster's illumination of choice. There would be rooms with various kinds of whipping posts, crosses mostly, with simple shackles and chains for the primitive players. Special rooms with suspension devices are likely to be popular too. You can bring your own gags, crops and whips, or, for a fee, I'll provide you with rental punishment and restraint equipment.

As with the Japanese Love Hotels (some of which I understand now come with dungeons for rent) discretion would be the name of the game. Players in couples or groups would be kept apart by time or wall. And separate entrances and exits would keep them that way.

At Wombat's Dungeon World, no-one need know you like your love hog-tied and gagged in a dark, dripping den of depravity.





Delicious photo from here. The English are big into Dungeon Life, apparently. [link]