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.

Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down

The bow-tie is unfairly characterized as the neckware of fools and dandies, a misreading of the fashion in my opinion.

The men who affect the bow-tie are trying to look different, trying too hard because the bow-tie is a cliché that says "I'm trying to look different." They're obviously attempting to stand out, and everyone knows it...except the wearer, which confirms them as terminally un-hip.

If only the bow-tie was associated with restraint sex. From personal experience, regular neckties make perfect tools with which to tie a woman to the bed, or to restrain her arms or legs, or even to blindfold her. But bowties are a more perfect length, and you can always wear them the next day and keep the scent close to your nose.


Bottoms Up, Dominators!



Bow-tie sweater from here [link]

Friday Fluffer - Talk Dirty To Me

Talking dirty is another of those bonking skills that improves with practice. Some are better at filth-chat than others, so here are two videos to help. (The first one won't allow embedding, but it's worth the visit to YouTube.)

Both safe for work.


It's not what you say, it's how you say it. [link]<------Amusing video.









Bottoms Up, Trash-Talking Sluts!




Foul mouthed woman from here [link]

Interview Technique and the Sock Drawer

Interviews are, like, totally the dumbest way to judge whether you should employ someone. Anyone you would want to employ will be smart enough to hide the character flaws and criminal intent you're looking to unearth, and yet you shouldn't employ them because they're flawed criminals.

Did that make sense?

Midway through one interview, I was asked to multiply 999 * 999 whilst seated facing three stern men. The stupid thing is that I had prepared for this kind of thing (plus counting backwards in 7s from 103.) Previous contenders had set up a study course based on exit interviews, so anyone going in had a pretty good idea about the whereabouts of crevasses.

Dating is the same thing as a job interview. Granted, there's a blurring of the line between interviewer and interviewee. Roles can reverse. But in essence it's about asking questions and reading the answers.

Trouble is that we're all expert at masking. Straight-out honesty is often more difficult than telling the story we have in mind about ourselves, a story that might not necessarily be the whole truth. When they ask you "So, why do you want to work here?" has anyone ever told the truth?

In an ideal world, interviews would be held in the interviewee's bedroom. You can tell way more about a person from the state of their house or apartment or trailer than you can by asking them. It's not what people say that matters, it's what they do.

Same with dating. As soon as you can, get to your new friend and possible lover's place and check out their sock drawer. Guaranteed all the answers lie therein.




Bottoms Up, Sock Drawers!


Excellent pic of socked lady 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]

Friday Fluffer - Foot Massage

I know of few greater pleasures a man can give to a woman than a foot massage. Memories of ex's eyes rolling back in their heads and coos of encouragement reinforce my understanding of this as a great form of foreplay.

Men know this, but few of us take the time out to make an event of it. It's my New Year Resolution: give more women foot massages.





And here is the definitive guide to the politics of massaging other men's wives' feet.









Photo from here. [link]

Loving Winter

The inevitable question: If squirrels hide nuts for the winter, what do pussies store? Tuna fish? Shrimp cocktail? Steak au jus? One can only wonder.

Winter in the northern hemisphere is about staying warm, because cold really happens here. In Australia winter is a kind of limp-wristed summer, a season merely without as much sun, like it's (the sun) gone on vacation for a while and left just the pilot-light burning. Sure the days are shorter and people wear more layers, but it's not 'winter' in the same way that Minnesota has winter. Or Manitoba. They're from the same animal family, but many, many cousins removed.

Open fires and dead animals are a staple of winter, and not just the cooking of. In my top one-hundred list of things to do before I leave this piece of space-time is #76:

"Make Love to the One I Love on Animal Rug in Front of Open Fire."

There it is, right there, below #75:

"Spend Week in Bed with Miss Venezuela (any year will do)".

It's another of those nagging cliché-type thingies, yet still keeps its exoticness. Exoticity? It looks to be a neat thing to do.

Sophisticated people move past making love on dead animals early in life. I think they complete all the standard sexual fetishes and variations before leaving university, which explains a lot about universities. And because I attended universities, but didn't graduate, it explains why I still need to find a woman, a fire, a dead-animal rug, and the time.

This winter, I swear.



Photo from here. [Link]

Ponytails

I didn't have the stomach to search Flickr for photos, because I'm sure there's a ponytail fetish group there. Not that fetishes are bad (as I grit my teef through thoughts of Furries and other truly fringe weirdness.) It's more that I don't want to be thought of as being defined by my preference. Or get caught out by membership in a totally dweeby photo-based fetish organization. That's just too depressing.

So let's get it out there. I think women wearing ponytails are hot. More so if the ponytail is tucked through the adjustment strap of a baseball hat. That's it. Now I'm on record as having the lamest predilection ever.

Here are some reasons that make them sexy:

> The girly factor. Ponytails are feminine, and emphasize luxuriant, lustrous hair.

> The youth factor. They remind us of innocence.

> The vitality factor. Healthy, ruddy, active, tiger in bed.

> The shakeout factor. When the scrunchy is removed, and the hair falls free...

> The erogenous zone factor 1. Ears. We know that women's ears can be Zonal.

> The erogenous zone factor 2. Neck. We know that women's necks can be Zonal.

I hope no-one reads this.