betcha my double headed dildo

“You cumming is sexy, me going is sexier”
TM

Ask me your questions, I’ll tell you no lies; that is the story of the girl with green eyes. Ask Mz. Conduct at: guttergrl69.hotmail.com . You can now call her on her relationship advice line at: www.keen.com/MzConduct. C’mon baby, I dare ya!

Tie my tail to a bucket of nails, for I am a bad kitty. Bad, bad kitty! In the last column, “Masturbate-a-Thon”, I didn’t have the brain function -- damn those dry martinis -- to mention that the whole Masturbate-a-Thon she-bang was put on by the one, the only, fab beyond belief, goddess of erotica, and creative genius, Darklady! If not for her, I wouldn’t have been invited in the first place and I apologize for not even mentioning her. She did a wonderful job throwing the gig together, and we all respect and appreciate her tireless and ongoing efforts... in everything she does. She’s in the process of altering a vinyl dress of mine, and with me forgetting to mention her, the dress may come back to me looking like vinyl blinds. But she’s a good egg and will forgive me, or one trashy trollop can hope. You can visit her site at www.darklady.com and see for yourselves what a wonder woman really is. Now hopefully she’ll invite me to her birthday party and we won’t be forced to play Pin the Penis on Mz. Conduct. Hmmm, I don’t know, that actually sounds mighty fun.

My snow globe collection is growing faster than a smooched penis. Mister Peanut brought me one from the Netherlands, Ms. Lula la Paintbrush and Pretty Hippy Boy both brought snow globes from New York, each with a different skyline. Most people collect them from places they’ve visited, but NO, not I. I live vicariously through my traveling troupe of friends, but such is life. Until I’m famous that is. I have four different jobs now, so unless I drop dead in a vat of gin with my dress over my head, as sung on the Mary Tyler Moore show, “I’m going to make it after all!” And when my book comes out, I trust you all to buy a copy. I promise to sign each and every one with a naughty little quip!

As Wild Bill and his Amazing Appendage says, “Mz. Conduct, you are dating at an unfathomable rate of speed!” That tells you something, coming from him. Hey, a girl has to eat, and when a lunch/dinner invitation comes my way, as long as the guy is tolerable, I’ll take it. I’ve met so many interesting man-boys, and have networked among many, in respects to promoting my column. It’s all working out.

I’ve decided to rent my attic space out, as I truly do not want to be pushing a shopping cart filled with my hatbox full of sex toys, my laptop and the dogs, down the main drag of this city. I met a handsome writer, an interesting sort, who was in need of a place to hang his hat, so voila! My attic will be occupied soon. I will never be an existentialist. I believe everything happens for a reason and things are entirely connected in this universe of mad and magical mayhem.

So, last night on the phone sex job was about the most unusual to date. I helped two guys solve their girlfriend problems, which I love and live for, and another guy fulfill a fantasy on a tiki-torched-lit Caribbean beach. That got me so worked up that I soaked through my little leather skirt. But the next guy ruined the whole evening. Except for the fact that being a very lengthy call -- good as far as money-makin’ goes -- he wanted to strangle me and then have me poop in his mouth. Christ on a crumpet, I don’t like to judge a person’s fetishes, but I’m sorry, that’s freakin’ disgusting. When I have my own business line, I may have to tell those twisted mo fos a thing or two, “Listen buddy, why don’t you eat your own stool sandwich and leave mine where it is, damnit.” One of the best calls was from a guy who had a nice conversation with me before he started his pole pounding. He rambled on for a good fifteen minutes and realizing he was in mid-whack mode, I just kept talking filthier and filthier. He obviously finished himself off but apparently forgot to hang up the phone. So, for another twenty minutes, as the line was silent, I read the New Yorker, made easy money and smoked. It was fabulous, daahling!

I’ve been interviewing strippers again this week, chasing them around to meet up in every strip club in the city. If I weren’t flat broke and driving on fumes, it’d almost be worth it. I could stay for awhile after the interview, have cocktails, tip, have a girlie good time, but no such thing is possible, at least not in the near future. What I need is a tall, thin, hairless, 30-year-old, baby-faced, sugar daddy. Ha, when I take over Ann Landers column, that’ll happen. In the meantime, bad girl life goes on. For instance, there’s a “Find Your Inner Slut” class waiting for me to attend in a few weeks, but honey I’ve already found it and am polishing it like a genie in a lamp. Let me say, I’m busier than a whore on nickel night.


Mz. Conduct,

What advice would you give to a man with a penis so large that it actually scares women? Seriously, many women I meet are not interested in tackling my organ when they see the girth of it. They don’t want to have sex with me and I’ve never had a woman give me a blowjob. Aside from having it surgically altered, what can I do?

Big Bob

Dear BB,

Oh boo hoo, mister monster meat. Maybe it’s because you’re hideous or retarded or stinky and not your greatness of girth after all. Hmmmm, ever thought of that? I’d have to say you’re meeting the wrong women. I’ve known a few women who’ve complained about the challenge of the oral attack on an extra large appendage, but not one of them hasn’t, at the very least, given it a go. You say it ‘scares’ women, well, think of scary movies. You may be petrified, but you’re still compelled to watch it. Sure, I may have watched “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” through my coat sleeve, but I saw it through its entirety and I ended up really liking it. You need to find a girl who likes YOU and then she’ll work her mouth around that big schlong of yours with all the gusto one does when one loves. I’m sure you’re aware that we women can have the biggest mouths around when we want to. As far as penetration, remember that the vaginal muscles are very flexible and that ten-pound babies actually come through the cervix. Sure, hormones play a part, but it is something to keep in mind. Quit whining, brush your teeth, work on your personality, and go get rich. Make some porn and send it to me when you’re finished.

Dear Mz. Conduct,

I work with this great girl, she’s 22 and I’m 28, and we sort of flirt a bit here and there, office stuff I guess. The other day, when I gave her the daily report to sign, she took the clipboard and put it on my lap to sign it! She was pressing hard on purpose and I have to admit I got an erection. Then she just smiled coyly and said goodnight. I couldn’t stop thinking about this little move of hers, so a few days later when we were at lunch, along with some other co-workers, I walked her back alone and casually asked her out for coffee. To my surprise, she said no. And I asked her two separate times. Now I’m really confused because we obviously are attracted to each other, but I don’t know why she sticks to flirting and won’t even have coffee with me. Tell me what you think, please?
Confounded Co-Worker

Dear CCW,

Boys will be boys, won’t they? Hard in the Hanes and hay for brains. Not your fault, women have all the power in most situations and this girl knows it. She’s too young, too confused, too power hungry for attention and too freakin‘ catty. She wants you to want her and she’s tripping on knowing that you do. Game playing is not a recommended attribute for dating. I suggest you leave it alone. Perhaps she doesn’t like dating someone she works with, but let her figure it out first and simply tell you as much. Don’t ask her out again, damn you, or I’ll be forced to bitch slap you and butt fuck you. She knows you want to ride in her panty play town and she’ll string you on forever... if you let her. Don’t you dare woos boy. Just be your charming self and quit flirting with her. If you don’t care anymore (try not to show it anyway, honey) then I’ll bet you my double-headed dildo -- and no one is getting that treasure unless I’m on one end of it-- that she may change her tune. At that point you can decide if you really want to date a girl like her. Some women think they have a man wrapped around their little, sparkle-painted pinkie, but suddenly when the guy seems to be completely indifferent, well, that drives them crazier than a loon in heat. Leave it alone in the office and use her for masturbation material at home.

© All rights reserved Kim Alvarez