sizzling summer

Bring it on baby! Toss me your questions like onion rings on a stiff one. Ask Mz. Conduct at: guttergrl69.hotmail.com and get what you deserve.

"Life is clay, honey, and I have a Deluxe Play-Doh set!"
Mz. Conduct

Wet me down and call me slick chick, it's a hot, hot summer here in the Northwest, and I've been up to a heap o' trouble. But what's a girl with pigtails and too much body jewelry to do? The other day, the Georgia Peaches and I had a tad too many cocktails - oh that strawberry lemonade and vodka makes for a mean summertime memory - and what started innocently enough in a booth, early afternoon at the Labia Lounge, crossed into an evening of debauchery at the Sinferno Bar and Grill. We headed out to the Labia with a hankering for a cool drinkipoo, and after several games of pool and a very happy hour, we made our way across town in a cab, paid for by a fan of mine. At Sinferno, we had oodles of beverages sent over to us by a distinguished, dark skinned stranger in a pale gold suit. He promised me the moon and stars and everything in between, but I opted for girl lips instead. The Georgia Peaches and I smooched up a storm, which seemed to gather even more attention from all the boys. We soaked up the attention, and all the booze we could muster -- while still maintaining our ladylike dignity -- and ended up in a girl-pile at home on the sofa!

The Yum Yum Boy and I have been romping at the river every week. We found a secluded spot nestled between the trees, right on the sandy riverbank and declared it ours from now on. The last time, we were partaking in our usual water wrestling and got ourselves all worked up and romped in the water until we laughed so hard we almost peed our pants. Oh, wait a minute, we did pee our pants... in the river! After swimming out to the middle of the river, we found a giant rock in the exact shape of a big chair, where we sat for a good portion of the afternoon, browning our bulges. No sooner than I had started to relax, listening to the squawk of bald eagles in the sky, than the YYB grabbed me and dunked me in the clear, cold water. I was still laughing when he flipped me over, tossed me across one of the huge rocks, and sunk his submarine deep into my tunnel o' love. My screams echoed all the way down the river, around the curves, and got buried somewhere amongst the pines. After swimming back to the shore and smoking ourselves into oblivion, I decided I hadn't had enough of that meat whistle yet. After swallowing every bit of yum yum substance, the YYB tells me in a whisper, "Don't move, just look really slowly to my left." I did just that, and to my delight, saw a picturesque fawn and doe standing only ten feet away. They had watched our whole show! The animals had such a beautiful curiosity on their faces! They looked as if they were going to come nudge us, but decided instead to graze in the blackberry bushes that surrounded us. The YYB lay there nibbling my nipple berries in the setting sun as the deer nibbled their berries. We felt like stray stoners on National Geographic. Amazing!

A week earlier, I attended one lame-ass party that consisted of a bag of chips and a keg of Coors. Most people at the shindig displayed the intelligence of a Lincoln log, which made conversation a true challenge. One pretty, bucolic boy told the same story of washing his car with his nephew, and repeated it consistently throughout the evening. I would ask him to go fetch me another cocktail, just to hear him shut his trap... and look good walking away. I did meet a spanking-cute boy with a blue Mohawk who almost proposed to me right there alongside the bonfire. Was it my charm or was it the Coors, one may never know. Fret Boy was there and whipped out that big guitar of his and played us all into the sunset... and that was the highlight of that night.

Another weekend, another party, but this was fantastically fun. It was a camping party on top of a mountain, overlooking a vineyard. As far as the eye could see were grapevines and forest and the most beautiful sunset ever. Homer K. Simpson's reggae band played until the wee hours, and the piggy on a spit seemed to rotate to the beat of the Congas. The Yum Yum Boy and I danced and smooched under a zillion stars that lit up the night sky. There was a limbo bar, which forced us to bend in ways we hadn't done since, well, the night before. It was big fun. Shrek, our large and lovable friend, miscalculated the distance of the pole and ended up hilariously crawling on all fours right under the bamboo bar. We pitched our tent near the grapevines and by the time most folks had passed out, shirtless and inebriated, halfway inside their tents, the YYB and I were snuggly zipped into our own tent and tearing it up, as only we can do, honey! The next morning, to explain the unidentified howls coming from our tent, I told stories of mating coyotes. No one bought it. We did all agree that the hair of the dog was much needed and immediately polished off the beer that was left in one of the kegs. Sunrise on a mountain vineyard, birds singing like mad, and a tummy full of carbonated cheer... what a beautiful morning.

Sordid sex in a hair salon waxing room? You betcha! All those mirrors and massage tables, the naughtiness of getting caught, how could I resist? Well, when the YYB plied, I didn't resist (but I never do), we never got caught, and let's just say that now the waxing room takes on a whole new meaning of strippin'!






Dear Mz. Conduct,

I want you, yet I hate you. What is my problem and what the hell is yours? You think you're hot shit, but then again, you probably are. I know for a fact that we would absolutely tear each other up sexually, but then again, when the smoke from the bed sheets start to clear, would 911 get there before we strangle each other? Or, if I'm still in a loving sort of mood, would I be able to escape the black widow's trap?

The Fly

Dear F,

Of course you want me and it's no real surprise that you find me unnervingly seductive. In your feeble little fantasies, you explore the fact that we would tear up the sheets. Most likely it would never reach that point in person. If you are young and hairless and like to be bitch slapped and butt-fucked (and I doubt if you own all of those prerequisites), then perhaps there's hope for you yet. In the meantime, keep flying close to the web, sugar!


Dear Mz. Conduct,

I met a wonderful guy via the Internet. We met the other night and it was really great, although we were both very nervous. That same night we had sex
and I noticed that his penis wasn't totally hard.

So, of course I assumed it was because he wasn't into me, now that he met me in person. I figured maybe his interest was gone and that I wouldn't hear from him again, but he still emails me just as much as before and he says he is looking forward to seeing me again. So, my question is; what's up with the lack of hardness of the man? I have never experienced this before.

Oh, and by the way, you are very sexy!

Pajama Girl

Dear PG,

Yes, I know I'm sexy, and thank you. Remember that true sexiness comes from within: attitude, confidence, experience, and humor. You could use some of this now.

There isn't anything to worry about at this time, as men have lots of reasons for not being completely hard when approaching intercourse, i.e., If you guys had been drinking, if he was on medication, if his grandma just died, if the Giants just lost, if his buddy is waiting to hear about your date, and the list is endless. Don't fret, baby doll, he's wanting to get together again and obviously still interested. If you like the poor guy, give him a break and be patient. Maybe you weren't wet to your knees as you should be either, eh? Seriously, it's nothing to worry about this time. Get to know the man behind the limp weenie and you'll both feel more comfortable. Then and only then, you can make a decision as to remain with him or not.

(c) All rights reserved Kim Alvarez