boys, butts and me

“You can’t start it like a car, can’t stop it with a gun”
Warren Zevon on the strongest of loves

Send me your questions, bend over and take my answers: guttergrl69.hotmail.com

Holy handbags full of Handi-Wipes! If I get one more question about incest, I will go screaming into the goddamn streets! [If someone has to ask why, then they have more concerns than Bush in the White House.] Big Bald Bouncer suggests the person in question sit on a crowded freeway at midnight. Bottomline, I prefer not to dignify “I want to sleep with my sister, is that okay?” or “My mother caught me masturbating and wants to show me the right way to do it,” twisted-type blather with an answer. Sick, sick puppies, is all I have to say. Fantasies are one thing, but reality is another, that’s what I say!

I was steeping my bones in a gin-soaked bathtub, listening to the Stones new song ‘The Key to your Heart,’ and a thought occurred to me: If you give your lover the proverbial ‘key to your heart’ and then later break up, is it automatically implied that you’ve gotten your key back? Can an ex-lover still gain access if they’ve secretly duplicated the key or slithered up a side window, crawling into one’s life, again? Would this not be breaking and entering? Hmmm. Another thought, in the middle of a hedonistic bubble bath: Is it kosher to use the same song for a different relationship? Personally, I have theme songs for each relationship that I’ve been in; sometimes many songs, depending on the length of the relationship. And often it seems that the number of my relationships is almost equal to the amount of songs ever written! But I don‘t want to drift in to that now, honey. Anyway, I think everyone does this; a song comes on the radio and you’re with your special someone, you both comment on it, oohs and ahhs, and it just easily becomes ‘your song.’ Well, what if you’re in another relationship and your ex-lover’s song plays when you‘re with your new lover? Should one interchange and exchange that song to go with the new lover? Or is it possible to completely forget, after time, that it was a previous lover’s song? And if not, would one always feel a bit guilty for reusing it? Hmm... I’ll have to think about that a little more... when I roll another.

Soon after, I went to dinner with an escort friend of mine and two gentlemen she knew. My friend was hoping to start her own business and she was looking to these fellows as backers. She brought me along for my charm and snarkiness and was confident that she and I could somehow help persuade them. We visited the Boom Boom room, noshing on oysters and gin, and had lots of each with a side of savory persuasion, then danced to Sinatra tunes and, once in awhile, my girlfriend and I slid our tongues down each other’s throats. Mmmm. Naughty, I know. All in all it was a torrid little evening and she now has her business and I still have oodles of dignity.

The beautiful, blonde boy, who, previously, drove me in (and on) the hood of his car, called the other night and asked if he could visit. Booty call, literally! He wanted his bootie banged and was aching to try out my double-headed dildo. Who am I to turn him down? Blonde Boy walked into my house, wearing the most ultra-sexy, snappiest, fifties suit that I ever laid eyes on. It was jet black, a bit biggish on his tall, thin frame, and he sported a skinny, red neck-tie with little, black martini glasses all over it. Yummy. I grabbed him by this accessory and pulled him towards my hot mouth. I wore a long, burgundy, oriental robe with nothing but my strap-on and pheromone oil underneath. I dragged him to my candle-lit bedroom, scented with vanilla, and reclined on the heap of pillows. “Take off your clothes very slowly,” I commanded him. He obeyed like a grinning, good boy. Watching him leisurely strip down to his silky, black thong was intensely erotic and I felt my thighs quickly moisten. I could see the back of his svelte body in the mirror behind him, and I watched lustily as his sinewy arms removed the thong itself, producing an outrageous hard-on the size of Florida. “Is that all for me, baby?” I drawled, and he moaned an affirmation. He bent down towards me and we kissed. We fell onto the pillows and our bodies were instantly tangled together. With our hearts pounding, we rubbed our penises together, flesh on silicone as I clandestinely poured lubricant on my hand and slid my finger up his perfect pucker. We stroked one another’s stiffness. We rolled around, I grabbed his hips from behind, and slowly worked up to sliding in my silicone slice of heaven. When he eventually came, Blonde Boy growled, hollered, and ended on a high note that Tarzan would have blushed at. Christ on a crutch, how I love the absolute power! Grrrr! He Tarzan, me Jane, and jungle love is so under-rated.

Now, I’m preparing for the revolutionary return of the Yum Yum Boy, who will be flying back from Australia with lots of manly adventures to share. With new leopard sheets and two dozen tiny candles in the boudoir, we are surely going to do some celebrating. Hopefully, when I pick him up at the airport, my clit doesn’t run ahead of me and get us both arrested by airport security. Nevertheless, I am planning a straddle attack in the parking garage. He’s been ‘down under’ for so long, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll be the one ‘down under’ all that crazy Yum Yum meat, and, honey, faster than a tick on a June bug! Bring it on, kangaroo boy!

Off I go... I have strippers to interview and must self-medicate myself beforehand.

Dear Mz. Conduct,

My wife and I have been married for twenty-six years and, before I was married, I enjoyed anal sex, both giving and receiving it. My wife and I have never done either and, for some reason, lately, I realized that after all these years, I miss it. Can you suggest a solution?

Missing the Tail

Dear MtT,

Sometimes a person just gets a nagging need for naughtiness, some titillating behavior memory surfaces from the ‘good old days.’ With you, it’s perfectly understandable, since your ‘good old days’ are really old. I suggest that you simply tell your wife what you wrote me. Since you two have been together for over a quarter of a century, obviously something is working, so it shouldn’t be a difficult task.

I recommend watching Dr. Carol Queen’s videos, “Bend Over Boyfriend” and “Bend Over Boyfriend 2”, as she offers loving, affectionate demonstrations that are specifically designed for couples. You and your wife can go (and cum) from there. It’s all about communication, honey. Open mouth, speak.

Dear Mz. Conduct,

I’m a 29 year old straight man who has been told all his life that I “act like a girl.’ I’ve never played sports or even been interested in watching them. Instead, I’ve always had hobbies like cooking, gardening and, although I don’t consider myself meticulous, I do keep a clean house. For the most part I don’t let people’s teasing bother me, but every once in awhile, I admit that it infuriates me. It bothers me most often when friends goad me about my “faggot behavior” right when I’m really interested in some girl. It lowers my self-esteem and I don’t feel confident when I do see the girl. I end up loosing her each time and am left with the idea that she may think I’m gay, too. I don’t want to change who I am for someone else, but is there something I could do to help my situation?

Het in Hell

Dear HiH,

The self-esteem issue or lack thereof, is probably the most damaging thing I see. First of all, some men just have more feminine energy than others do. Personally, I love a man who is in touch with his feminine side and can feel comfortable enough to use it freely.
You need to tell your so-called ‘friends’ that, although they may think they are having fun, it is at your expense. Tell them that their constant badgering pisses you off and they should cease and desist. Maybe your friends have wanted to secretly bend you over the kitchen stove, and this is their way of over-compensating. Those who protest too much, ya know? In any case, use your bitch qualities and put your foot down, mister!

Just because you’d rather cook a souffle than watch a football game doesn’t mean dick. Or, with your choices, maybe it does. You need to truly figure this out. When you do (and I prefer to think positively) then you should feel secure with who you are. Remember, if a girl truly likes you, she likes the whole kit and caboodle of who you are. A confident and secure man is a huge attraction, no matter if you’re potting a petunia or overhauling an engine. Now, quit whining and go cook a fab dinner while I change the oil in my truck.

© All rights reserved Kim Alvarez