let your fingers do the walking baby!

“Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo”
H.G.Wells

Give me all you’ve got and then take what I dish out... and like it! Write Mz. Conduct at: guttergrl69.hotmail.com

So, the fans want to meet me, they beg for a lunch or dinner date, no expectations they say. Well, this is one girl who loves dining out (and a good Merlot), so I accept many of the offers in a chance for shameless self-promotion, and to maybe meet a new friend. But why is it that even the tame ones seem hell-bent on wanting to show me their penises? Okay, so I’ve always expressed my love for the almighty appendage, but not at a random sitting and certainly not after a plate full of crab cakes and prawns. I figure these men are most likely experiencing bothersome bulges and partly just want to release their burdens on me, while staring at my sizeable mouth. Some don’t even ask, they just whip out their wads in the front seat of their BMW and proudly display their ignorant manhood. That’s when I thank them for the evening and diplomatically eject myself for the vehicle, leaving them wilting like a waterless tulip. It doesn’t happen all the time, but even once in awhile is really too much. I must admit that when a stiff whopper catches my eye, I can be a bit distracted by it’s potential beauty, but when the guy is sitting there with a bad tie, bad breath and a pock-marked face with a deviant leer stretched across it, it doesn’t much matter what his dick looks like. Face it, I tell myself, men just love to show off their penises, like a bowling trophy or a certificate from some Built-Right Penis School. Let me want it, crave it and find it for myself and we’ll all be better off.

My roommate, the Distinguished Deviant, came home with gifts for me the other day, I told you he’s fabulous! A blonde wig and a black vinyl jacket with zippers all over it. I look like a waist-less version of Marilyn Monroe in drag, but it could be fun on certain nights, depending on how much is left in the bottle of Sapphire.

I’d been trying to get my husband to fill out the damn divorce papers with me before Mercury went retrograde. The Transient Trollop insisted on this, as she says that all hell would break loose if I didn’t. I figure there is something to all this because she married her ex husband -- the closeted homosexual, Mexican nightmare -- on the same exact day that my husband left me. A year later, to the day, the Yum Yum Boy popped the question to me -- albeit over too many cocktails and seven hundred orgasms. The Transient Trollop and I pieced this all together and figure there’s something important going on. Something worth our attention in any case. So, I drove over to my soon-to-be ex husband’s place, took him to dinner, looked over the million-page forms with him in near silence (except for the sound of me guzzling the house red wine). After dinner, we got in my truck and the radio started playing B.B. King’s “The Thrill is Gone”, almost as if I had staged it. Wow, this was ironic, and I mentioned it in humorous tones. He didn’t catch the humor. When I dropped him off, the song continued, and holy heels on the run, the station played two more versions of the same song right after that! My entire drive home consisted of a thrill that was gone, but a new thrill had begun and this thrill was more consuming and freeing than anything I’d ever felt before. It’s about knowing who I am, what I’m worth, and not capitulating for anyone.

This evening called for cocktails in a bubble bath and thinking about new places to masturbate. Being that the Yum Yum Boy is still down under, and not down under in the places I’d like him to be, I’m straining to behave and just wait patiently (for the first time in my disreputable little life) for the return of the Yum Yum meat. The steam room at the gym is always a little tantalizing, knowing that someone may walk in at any minute. If I could get away with it riding the Lifecycle -- sitting in line with eight other breath-stealing contraptions in the middle of the weight room -- I would. But I’m a sordid screamer, even with my own fingers, or a bicycle seat, and that may get me booted out of the Christian run YMCA. Either that or they’d put my picture up on the wall, right next to Jesus. I’m not taking the chance.


Dear Mz Conduct,

You are so bitchy and wise and all the things I want in a woman. Could you answer me this: I’ve been chatting online with this girl for about two months and she's talked to me on the phone too. She’s even seen my most recent pictures, but twice now has stood me up on a date. I’ve been totally honest about myself and would simply like to meet her! Should I just say fuck it or keep after her? It's not like I want her to marry me, just meet me!

Confused, Frustrated, and Crazy!

Dear CF&C,

First of all, flattery will get you about as far as my cat can fly, so stuff a stiff sock in it,
as I’m well aware of my multifarious attributes. On to you now. This girl obviously has some issues to deal with, whether it’s that she’s introverted and too shy to actually meet someone or that she’s just a disgusting flake. Is that the really the type of girl that you want? Think about it mister big brain. Maybe she was repulsed by your picture and can’t bring her self to ask you not to call again. She should be upfront and honest, as you have been, but all people are not sane. Leave the tramp alone and move on to a girl that will be considerate enough to, at the very least, keep her word and meet you when she says she will.


Mz. Conduct,

I’ve had a girl use her strap-on with me many years ago and I liked it... a lot. I haven’t done that with anyone since, but lately have been thinking about it again, especially when I masturbate. I’m finding it’s a part of what I definitely need in a sexual relationship and I can’t let it go. My current girlfriend isn’t into it. I’ve sort of brought up the idea to her once, and she wasn’t at all interested. My question is, if I asked another girl I know to do that for me, would that necessarily be cheating on my girlfriend?

Butt Boy

Dear BB,

Yeah, poke at my weakness (pun intended) in my moments of celibacy, why don’t you? Okay, mind off the double-headed dildo that is not in use at the time, damnit all to hell and back. Anyway, YEAH, you insipid sodomite, having another girl fuck you in your tight little pucker, would be considered cheating on your girlfriend, even in my little black book! My advice is for you to talk to your girlfriend about this serious need of yours. That’s what partners do, try to please each other even if they think they aren’t interested in something the other may be hankering for big time. It may be a very intimate experience for you both and when she sees the response she’ll get and the power she has -- oh good God in a Gucci bag, fan me and pour me a drink -- she may be the one bugging you to let her give you a butt banging. By chance, after discussing this with her seriously, she’s still not willing, then you could ask her if she minded if you asked another girl because that’s how badly you want/need it. See what entails from there. It’s unfair not to work with a partner in order to get to a place that works for both parties, and if she won’t relent, then it’s up to you if you cheat or not. Now bend over and grab your ankles, Skippy.

© All rights reserved Kim Alvarez

(as appeared in SFX magazine)