Old School - RTOTD #784

Day 784

I get a lot of nostalgia. This is no shock to anyone. Nor should it be...

But since I was a kid, I always wanted an arcade game in my house. Like a full cabinet unit. I kinda wanted the X-Men game. Or the original TMNT game. Or maybe even Street Fighter Alpha II. They were just ungodly expensive. At least in my frame of reference.

Now I'm an adult. Now I own my own house. Now I can do whatever the fuck I want & can afford to do.

I have started putting together the list of shit that I've always wanted to have in my house. And sooner or later, it's going to be here.

A stripper pole. I've been meaning to do this and haven't found the one I want at a reasonable price. They're crazy overpriced for what they are. They should cost, at most, 1/3 of what they do. The pole is only like $10-20 in actual metal price. And the brackets might cost $25-30 to fabricate. Yet they charge up to $800 for a decent one. Plus... come on... do you know how many girls will want to try the stripper pole at parties or just come over to practice?? Yeah... Exactly.

A projector. Like one of the TV projectors. I kinda always wanted one. They were just cool.

A hidden room. Because fuck you, I want a secret hidden clubhouse to hide in and nobody can find me. If I could, I'd build a house where ALL of the rooms were hidden but that might be a little impractical.

A dedicated comic book closet with drawers just filled with my comics that I can pull out. This might just require some remodeling or repurposing of my existing built-in cabinets.

A gigantic walk-in safe. Because come on, who doesn't want a gigantic safe???

An arcade cabinet... But maybe one that has a bunch of games cause computers are awesome and can do crazy shit now with emulating old-school video games.

And a pinball machine. Because I'm really just a bearded 9 year old.

What about you? What was that thing you wanted to have in your house when you were a kid but couldn't so you swear to yourself that you're eventually gonna have it when you're an adult?

Even if we never really grow up.

Not Far Enough - RTOTD #783

Day 783

I think that maybe some people don't really have a good grip on what is and isn't taboo. I'm not talking taboo to vanilla people. That's pretty much everything on all of our fetish lists. It's the reason we're on FetLife and not fucking around with these groups on Facebook or some boring vanilla website.

No, I think we need to really start going balls out here. And start charting new fucking territory.

Yeah, I know. Pretty much everything you could do with someone or yourself has already been done,  and none of us are going to find fucking America, but I have a challenge for all of you:

It's simple. Try to find something totally new to you in the next 3 months that you really dig. Start experimenting with shit that you might initially think "eh, I don't know if that really sounds that fun" and see where it takes you. I think we're all starting to get into a bit of a rut. And I'm not talking about just something that you see at a class at some event. I mean sit down and think of all the crazy bullshit you could do and then try to figure out how to push a boundary.

I think I know how I am going to do it. And it's going to push a lot of them if I can work out HOW to do it without dying, someone to do it with me, when and where to do it, and to be perfectly honest... the guts to do it.

Crucifixion.

I'm not just talking some simple shit where I would let myself get tied to a cross. I'm talking motherfucking spikes through my wrists.

But that's something I'm not sure I can actually go through with. Or if it's really pushing things how I want. So I'm going to think on it. And then I'll come up with something that might be completely insane that I want to do that I'm not risking death to pull off. Or just doing for shock value. I want to see if I can find something that is really crazy but I'll totally dig after doing it. Something that I'll do once and want to do again and again.

But something that is still outside of the basics that we're all doing. Something challenging and taboo and shit. That's the same thing I'm challenging you to do. Not just something different "for you"... something really out there.

Body painting with chickens blood?

Waterboarding?

Furry bestiality?

Dark Age Play?

Non-Consensual Diesel Fire-Play?

24-style interrogation scenes complete with loaded guns, knives, a hacksaw, and the occasional broken digit while Jack Bauer screams about where the bomb is and who you're working for?

Deep-tissue Neutron Radiation Exposure Play?

Getting shot in the eyes over and over with those red barcode scanners from the grocery store?

Sex in the dark with only your significant other while whispering so the kids don't hear you and only in missionary position for the rest of your life?

Whatever it is you come up with that is taboo... I want you to find something taboo that pushes lines for you and that you might not be entirely sure you're comfortable having done once you've done it, but you still have a craving to do it again? That's what I'm challenging you to find. And it's what I'm challenging myself to find as well.

And if you feel conflicted and embarassed at liking it, and a little guilty but still want to do it over and over again when you're done? Then you know you've found it.

Taboo - RTOTD #782

Day 782

By and large, my kinks are fairly pedestrian when compared to some others that I've seen on here. I generally prefer a lot of the basics. Rope & floggers, punching & resistance, rough & raw sex, and a few others. I've discussed my preferences for slutty over sexy, and trashy over beautiful in the past. I won't really get into that. My bimbofication kink is something that I've talked about a little too often recently and you can always go through my writings of the past month or so and find that, if you so care to read it.

Instead, I think I'll take this opportunity to talk about some of my more taboo kinks, even if they pale in comparison to those of some that reply below. Feel free to do so and discuss your own, if you'd like. I wanted to take today to open the discussion not to just the basic daily praise of my awesomeness, but to make this an open forum to discuss some of your kinks that maybe you don't feel comfortable discussing in open forums elsewhere. Mostly because I don't delete comments or topics that I might not be comfortable with, or that someone else gets their panties in a wad about.

So I'll volunteer to go first. Because fuck you, I'm awesome and don't mind being the first one to walk around with no pants on.

Actually... I'm going to kinda go first. I say "kinda" because I don't really have anything terribly taboo in my brain that is wildly out there. So instead, I'm going to discuss a couple of my most taboo kinks, even if they're not all that super-amazingly-taboo.

First one is probably the most tame of the 3 most taboo that I have.

It's a weird thing that I have. Girls in heels. Considering that I HATE feet and think they're gross. Not the "oh that's gross, I kinda wanna do it" kinda gross. I mean like "oh fuck you and die" gross. I never understood the feet thing. I mean, if that's your thing, awesome. But I just don't get it.

However, I have a thing for girls in heels. I think this probably connects back to my bimbo/slutty kink, because of the connections with porn whores and strippers. It probably also has something to do with the impracticality of heels for anything other than aesthetic purposes. I mean, you can't tell me that anyone is going to run faster or me more sure-footed when walking on ice while wearing heels. I mean, maybe if they're really motherfucking sharp and you can stab them into things for traction. But still... when they start making high-heeled cleats for girls soccer or field hockey teams, then I'll believe that there's a practical purpose for heels other than to make a girl a little taller, and to change her posture to make her legs look longer and to put her ass and tits on better display. And well, I don't see them making golf spike heels anytime soon that aren't solely for photo shoots. When a professional women's golfer starts wearing them for the LPGA Championship and wins it, then I'll bite.

But for some reason, it's only girls in stripper heels. I KNOW that this part has to do with my subconscious mental affiliations between girls in stripper heels and my propensity to be attracted towards slutty girls. Non-stripper-y heels on girls do nothing. Yeah, sure. They change your posture and everything too... but for some reason, they don't have the same turn-on factor for me.

So I guess I kind of have a high heel kink while having a foot repulsion? I don't know. I'm weird.

The next kink I wanted to talk about was body modification.

I'm an artist at heart. I've drawn and painted and sculpted and both wrote and performed music since I was 5. I've written more here than anywhere else, and I've written one book so far, with a few more on the distant horizon (mostly when I can get the energy to once again go through the marathon that is writing a book) and have scripted and drawn at least parts or large chunks of at least 3 potentially-long-form comic series. I've put the puzzle pieces together to potentially build a shared-superhero-comics universe that has its own secret history and aliens and mystical crap and everything else that goes along with the 20th and 21st century superhero comics. And that's excluding the half-dozen plotted non-superhero comics that I've come up with as well. I see the art in most things and the aesthetics that make things appealing. From cars to comics, ink to interior design, painting to piercing, and stereos to sculpture. There's a beauty in design that nearly rivals function.

Form and function are always curiously placed as opposing forces when I often see them as serving each other quite well. You want something to server a purpose; a function. But the thing is, you also have to often LOOK at the thing that is doing that job. And therefore, it should be something that you want to look at too. Something unique and cool and pretty and original.

I've written along these lines before in Body Mod forums and I'll rehash it here. Body Mod is really no different than any sort of other customization that we do.

We're born with our bodies and generally, with a few small details, they're pretty much the same. You certainly have size differences, skin tone differences, hair color differences, and all the rest. But really, almost all human bodies are generally pretty similar to one another. And you can look at it as a Phenomenal vs Noumenal Kant-like philosophical question. The concept of a chair is always the same even if this chair and that chair look different from each other. But you can also compare the human body to automobiles. And that's the way that I like to look at it.

The comparison is quite apt. We both are run on an engine that needs fueled and while we come in different colors and sizes and shapes, we're all pretty much the same. Some of us are blessed with better skin or hair, some cars are built with better upholstery or  quality paint for durability. Some of us are more athletic or smarter, in the same ways that different cars might be better designed to drive a street race track or filled with all the tech that makes driving more comfortable. Whatever those differences, they're represented in the automobile analogy.

But see... body mod is actually in the exact same spirit as automobile enthusiasts around the world. We're all about customizing. Yeah, the factory specs on the car might be fucking great. But that doesn't mean we can't make it ours and unique from any of the 25,000 other virtually identical cars in that production run. We might have bought the unique color or the super-deluxe packages, but so did a thousand other people. No, what we want is to make it one-of-a-kind. And that's when you get into the custom car people. That's who us BodyMod people are. We're the custom car enthusiasts of the human body. We want to design and build and mix and match from both totally original concepts and after-market production parts. We won't be the first person to roll the fenders to accommodate the 3" drop and 8" wide wheels and tires and we won't be the person to do a set of nipple rings either. We won't be the first person to airbrush a whole piece that stretches from half way down the driver's door to the rear fender and wraps around to match the symmetrical design on the other side before meeting for a whole new merger of designs that covers the whole trunk of the car and we won't be the first person to do a set of sleeves that meet at the shoulders and merge into a huge back piece.

We won't be the first to do any of that. But what we will be is the one that designs how all of the individual pieces go into it and where they fit and how they fit. We'll pick the colors for the paint or ink. The types of metals for the trim or piercings. The body kits or surgical procedures to change all the lines or how they body shape works.

And we do it all with an eye towards a final finished product that is totally unique and original, personal and deliberate, that emphasizes the parts most beautiful parts and washes away the flaws or inadequacies that you see in the original factory-issue design.

The best thing about heavy BodyMod is that sometimes you're the owner, sometimes you're the car, and sometimes you're a Transformer and can be both. And there's you random 80's nostalgia reference thrown in for a joke.

The final taboo kink that I really enjoy and wanted to mention here is watersports.

To some, it's as normal as kissing, and to others, it's equated with scat play. There's no line for some people and they can't see that one. One can't engage in one while still being disgusted by the other, in the eyes of some. It's edgy. And taboo.

Honestly, this is probably the only kink I have on my list that I would legitimately call "taboo" just because there are so many that reject it outright. It's terribly niche and it conjures up bile in many. In the same way that eating a chocolate bar while sitting on the toilet does for well... anyone that isn't into that kinda brown thing in your mouth stuff. And I figure, if it makes some people sick to their stomach to even think about, then it's probably fairly taboo.

I mean, I know that furries make me feel a little nauseous. Mascot fucking.

But to me, it's a turn on because it's a form of edge play that really only have a very very dull edge. The psychological edge is far sharper than the physical side. And I think maybe that's the side of it that I really get turned on by. The unconscious concept of ingesting any form of waste is the edge here. Even if it's not really waste as much as excess. Unless you're actually ill. Then all of this is thrown out the window and it's just not healthy at all and right into the same physical edge play as it is psychological.

I'm not sure what else I can really say about it though. It's an edge play that isn't an edge play because it lacks the fundamental physical risk that is really required to be categorized as actual edge play, while still striking the same psychological triggers that edge play normally does. So it's kind of a best-of-both-worlds situation where I can still get the emotional and psychological reaction that I'm looking to achieve out of a partner, while not really risking their physical well-being in the process.

So there you go... there's a few thousand words on taboo kinks. And I really hope that other people will chime in on some of their taboo kinks and what it is about them that they enjoy or even as just use today's column as an excuse to admit out-loud (or as loud as your interwubz box key-strokes are) as to some of their taboo kinks.

I kinda wish mine weren't so pedestrial and boring, to be honest.

Outside - RTOTD #781

Day 781

The more time that passes, the more I'm feeling the mixed bag that comes with not being involved with the "community-proper". Not when it comes to missing anything that it really provides, as much as just being able to comment on the goings-on and bullshit politics of it.

Now, while that's probably nice to some extent, it also makes this column kinda boring at times. There are days where I kinda almost wish I could see the childish crap that I still hear about, just so I could make fun of it and comment on. And then there's a lot more days where I'm so fucking happy to not have to watch the bickering, politicking, whining, tantrum-throwing that is far-too-prevalent.


I kinda want this thing to be more kink-relevant at times. I want to sometimes comment on the goings-on of the community. Except I can't actually bring myself to be involved anymore. Is that strange?

So how about this... what non-community-related kink topics would you like to hear thoughts on? I kinda want to start using this column for more kinky topics of conversation, but I really don't know what you want to read at this point. At least when it comes to kink.

Maybe I'm just hitting a spell of writer's block. I haven't even been working on the Bimbo Project blog on Tumblr either. Which is something that I REALLY want to devote more time to.

So let's hear it. What kinky topics would you like to discuss?

Congrats, Ladies - RTOTD #780.1

Day 780.1

You're now allowed to serve in active duty on the battlefield with men.

Hell, I always thought it was a little sexist that the women weren't allowed to go out and die with the men. But I don't wanna hear anything when you break a nail or don't have time to do your makeup before an attack.

Hopefully, you and your uniform look like this, because it would totally be a distraction to the enemy and let our men go out and kill them:

Mmmmmmmm - RTOTD #780

Day 780

If Mila Kunis ends up doing the 50 Shades of my asshole movie, I might actually watch it. Mostly in the hopes that I get to see her naked.

Because fuck you, it's Mila Kunis. And holy sweet jesus is she hot. And this is coming from someone who NEVER thinks the celebrity actress types are hot. You know... cause the whorish porn sluts are more my flavor.

But yeah... I would actually maybe pay money to see a movie about that abomination of a book if it had Mila Kunis in it. She never looks un-hot. Seriously. Even when she's not wearing makeup, she's still hot. How does that even happen?

On an entirely unrelated note... I really want a tank.

Growing HATE - RTOTD #779

Day 779

Because I don't find a way to confuse you fuckers often enough, after some discussion with @CarmelizedGinger, I realized that HATE needed to grow.

For those of you that aren't local or are just readers that don't really know me, HATE is the annual UnValentine's Day party that I came up with last year and my roomies and I throw. I know it's kinda cliche to throw an anti-valentine's day party because fuck Hallmark, but it's still fun. And while I'm certainly a contrarian to the Nth degree, sometimes doing something cliche is just plain easier.

Long story short was that last year was the innaugural HATE party. It was killer. And we wanted to do it again. The problem was that the weekend before, there was already a birthday party scheduled that a number of my friends had already planned on going to. So I was left with the weekend after.

That's when it got complicated. I powered up the laptop and was about to get to making the event on Fet when I see that not 15 minutes prior, another birthday party had been scheduled. For the same night that I wanted to throw HATE. I was bummed.

After a little discussion, we decided that they could host HATE this year. We would combine the birthday party with the HATE party and hold them together at the same venue. A party within a party, if you will.

The problem was that we didn't anticipate the kind of interest that HATE had. Everyone that wasn't already going to Winter Fire in DC wanted to come. Ruh Roh! We were going to need to turn people away. And well, that's just generally not my style. When I throw a party, I want to go big. I always want to go big. Bigger than last time. Bigger than what other people do. Just. Plain. Big.

So while the idea of turning some people away and scaling back HATE was really the only option because of space requirements, I came up with a better solution. Make it BIGGER. Don't mess with the plans for Saturday night, but fuck it... we have a whole WEEKEND to spread and celebrated HATE.

So the solution was actually pretty simple. Make it into a whole weekend-long event. But split the venues up. One party Friday. One party Saturday. Keep the Saturday plans the same and limit how many people could come, but throw ANOTHER party on Friday to get the HATE started sooner. And my roomies & I would handle hosting duties for the Friday portion of the party.

Now, let's just see how many people can figure this shit out without getting it fucked up and going to the wrong place on the wrong night.

So let this be a lesson to you when you want to throw a party or event

There are no obstacles, only challenges.

Your Kinks - RTOTD #778

Day 778

Last week I kinda started getting a little self-indulgent and started examining my "hierarchy of kinks". As you probably (read: should have. Because everything I write is pure gold and it makes your life better) read, my bimbofication kink has kinda started to supersede almost all of my other ones at this point. But that begs the question...

What are YOUR biggest kinks? Like, what is the ONE kink that is just always at the top of your list?

Ready? Go.

Goodbye, Pacman! - RTOTD #777

Day 777

Atari is now bankrupt. I wonder how much it would cost to buy? I mean, I would license the shit out of some Space Invaders.

Wait... does Atari even have any actual rights over anything? They just built the consoles and hardware right? Did they ever make any of their own games? I don't remember. And now that I think of it, I don't know if I really care that much.

But since I'm already on the topic of vintage video games... what was your favorite Mike Tyson's Punch Out characters?

I was always a fan of Soda Popinski.

Although Bald Bill (which I totally always thought was Bald Bull until I started looking for a picture of him and a couple websites called him Bald Bill) had this awesome gay leatherman thing going for him that I totally just realized right now as I was in the process of writing this.

I kinda wanna go play some old-school Punch Out now.

And I was always a little bummed that Super Macho Man wasn't actually the Macho Man Randy Savage wearing boxing gloves and fruity neon colored tassles and those vent-sunglasses things while yelling about Slim Jims and looking like he was about to rupture his hernia or take a massive shit right there on screen. Cause tell me it wouldn't have been totally better to have the ACTUAL Macho Man as the Champion in the video game.

How the fuck did they NOT get sued for that shit? You'd'a thought that Randy Savage would probably have had that named trademarked and copyrighted everywhere. Apparently not thought.

The Rules Of My Road - RTOTD #776

DIE DIE DIE MOTHERFUCKER!!!! - RTOTD #775

Day 775

So... crabs... as in pubic lice, are becoming an endangered species. All because of porn and girls emulating porn stars.

Who would have guessed that shaving your hoo-ha because some porn whore did it, and because it just looks sexier, would nearly kill off an entire species of parasitic insect? And who else thinks this is fucking awesome?

Know what I say to this? Those of you NOT already shaving/waxing/lasering/electro-ing that shit off? GET TO IT! We've got a whole species of useless parasite to make extinct!

Now if we could only find a way to genetically modify women so they wouldn't grow hair below the neck, we'd be totally making progress! And don't give me any shit about how some people like hairy girls... I don't care if they do... they're wrong. The next step in evolution is the hairless female from the neck down. How have we not already done this?

Though I'm sure the girl would appreciate if I could genetically modify my hairy-ass self to not have any hair on my balls anymore. Or within an inch of the shaft up top. I think she's sick of getting it in her mouth.

So here's just some slutty un-follicually-challenged girls. Or something. They have the proper quantity and placement of follicles... I don't know how to do PC. Bald Pussy Girls. Probably big fake tits in there too. It IS me posting this, after all.

So What's The Weirdest Place? - RTOTD #774

Day 774

So what's the weirdest or most awkward place you ever had sex? Airplane bathroom? Cargo net after being captured in a Scooby Doo style trap? Right before R2D2 saves you with his little Swiss Army Knife of contraptions he's got hidden inside his metal shell? Space? Inside an aged Oak whiskey barrel? My car with someone that is not me?

And if you answer "you're chair and a half in your living room"... you need to have a better imagination on where is "awkward" or "weird".

What's the most exhibitionist thing you've done in the past few years, or ever? Or even just the most recent fit of exhibitionism that you've engaged in?

I feel like asking YOU questions today. So come on... make with some funny stories.

I'll answer the questions too.

Most exhibitionist thing recently was getting a blowjob under the Mistlecock in my living room on my birthday. Even if it was only for a minute or 2 just for tradition sake.

And the weirdest wasn't really all that weird. It was definitely funny, but not all that weird. At least this is the only one that I can think of off the top of my head.

This happened probably 6 or 7 years ago. This girl and I were at the Pittsburgh Mills and she had been teasing me the entire time. I was frustrated and done with her shit. After grabbing her by the hair a few times to get her to cut it out, I finally told her that if she wanted to play that game, she had better be ready for the consequences.

She giggled a response and said that it was just too bad that we were in a mall and couldn't find anywhere to go. I don't know if she said this as a way to discourage me, to tease me even more, or to call my bluff. I was not however, bluffing.

I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards the food court. She said that taking her out of the mall to do something was cheating and that we couldn't go back to her house (she lived fairly close to the Mills) was out of the question because she was still living with her parents at the time and they would be home soon, if they were not already. I glared at her.

Me: "I wasn't planning on taking you anywhere outside this building"

An expression of curiosity mixed with fear and excitement filled her eyes. She knew that I had a plan and I was intent on carrying it out. She also knew that she was just along for the ride on this one and that her teasing might have gone too far, or maybe just far enough to get the response that she wanted. Most of the time I hate bratty bitches. This time... well... maybe I need to re-examine my issues with brats.

I dragged her by her wrist and into the food court. The area around the bathrooms was empty and the food court itself was fairly quiet. I glanced around as I started pulling her towards the bathrooms.

Girl: "You can't fuck me in the men's room! Someone is gonna come in! There's no privacy in those things. Or in the girls room either!"

Me: "Good thing there's a third option"

I pointed directly to the wall in front of us. The Men's room was to one side, and the Ladies room was down the hall that went the opposite direction. Directly in front of us was a concrete block wall, painted white, with 1 door in the dead center of it. It was marked "Family Bathroom".

She turned bright red and her eyes got enormous. Her jaw dropped and she looked at me and then the door and back to me. She stumbled out a few half words and was utterly speechless. She turned and looked around and saw that not a single eye was looking at us. I glanced around as well to make sure we weren't being seen or to make certain that there was no security camera that was directly on that door. I didn't want to be bothered by some Mall Cop knocking on the door to pitch a bitch about us fucking in the bathroom. I also didn't want them to call the real cops and have to hear some guy throwing around fancy words like "public indecency" or "indecent exposure" or anything else along those lines.

Seeing nothing but green lights in every direction, I pulled open the door and shoved her in as I followed behind and pulled the door shut behind me.

The bathroom had automatic lights. I glanced around and saw pretty much what you'd expect. A toilet, urinal, baby changing station, and a large counter with a sink and places to put all your crap while messing with baby diapers and stuff. Whatever. I didn't really care about that part of it. The room was fairly large. About 10 feet square and we would have plenty of space. It wouldn't be cramped like the Frat House Bathroom at CMU where I nailed that one girl from that story in my first book. But the problem was still that there was nothing at QUITE the right height.

The baby changing station was obviously NOT built to support an adult females body weight. Especially when it's getting plowed like a freeway after a blizzard.

The sink was slightly problematic as well. I need to be about 3 inches taller in order to effectively get the right angle and not have to stand on my tip-toes in order to enjoy it. I think that's done on purpose. I'm fairly average height at around 5'10" and I think that the sink counters are specifically built at the height that they are in order to minimize the number of people that can fuck on them effectively. I think it's a conspiracy. The puritanical church and government is in league with the contractors and the building inspectors and the land owners to do anything in their power to minimize the number of people that can fuck on a sink counter of a public place.

Assholes.

Finally, like usual, we were back to the "fuck over the toilet" option. She was wearing a skirt and I pulled her panties down quite enthusiastically, putting them in my pocket. She was not getting those back today. Not without the most enthusiastic fuck I've had in recent memory at least.

She crawled up onto the toilet seat and tried to balance with each knee on opposite sides of the seat. I stood behind her and ran myself up and down the edges of her lips. She was already quite wet. I didn't need to play around and do any of those annoying things like "preparation" or "foreplay". Those are for lessor humans. I'm better than that. I'm a wizard and my dick has magic powers. It commands wetness.

I slid fairly slowly into her at first. She was holding onto the back of the toilet. I believe it was tank less, so she was just grabbing onto the exposed pipes coming from the wall to the top of the shitter. Ok, maybe not the best word to use in this case, but fuck you... You can use whatever words you want when you're writing your own story. I picked up the pace quite quickly. That's when it gets great.

She started rocking back and forth and side to side as I increased my pace and intensity. She wasn't really paying attention to anything other than the sensations she was experiencing.

Have you ever fallen asleep upright with your hand holding your head up? You know how when you're out cold and your arm begins to slide and come out from under your head and you wake up with a start? Yeah. Imagine that but with your knees on a toilet seat instead.

It was great. She slipped. Her left knee came a half inch from hitting the water in the toilet. She jerked to pull up and regain her positioning. That's when her right knee slipped. Just as she replaced her left knee, her right knee came into contact with the water as it slid down the sloped inside of the toilet seat and into the bowl. She flinched at the cold. She pulled her knee back as quickly as she could. She replaced it on the seat, but the damage had been done. Her knee was now wet and she had just gotten the toilet seat wet as well. This was a poor combination.

For the next few minutes. Every 15 to 20 seconds, she would have to reposition herself as her right knee again began slipping into the toilet bowl again. She was annoyed by this. Or maybe it was from my laughing. But she didn't ask me to stop. She was enjoying the sensations too much as I pounded into her over and over. She would drift off into the euphoria of sex before getting startled back out of it by a slipping knee. She would pull it back out, reset her position and begin to drift off into the sensations washing over her body again, only for it to happen again. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

I was giggling under my breath and trying not to fall into a full-on hysterical fit. It was a losing battle.

At some point, she looked back over her shoulder at me and glared. It too everything I had not to laugh in her face in response.

I was close. I pulled out and kept stroking while I told her to turn around. She was still glaring. Well, maybe that's not the right word. She had this mix of hatred and lust in her eyes, interspersed with a far-away 1000-yard stare of approaching orgasm. I grabbed her head and pulled her mouth onto my dick. She was looking at me with eyes that said both "I might bite it off" and "oh god, feed me" at the same time.

We finished and cleaned up. The bathroom however, had no paper towel. It only had the air blower things. Her lower legs were dripping water and even just trying to wick the water off with her hands would only go so far. She needed something to wipe them off. She wanted me to use my sleeve. I had other ideas.

I pulled her panties out of my back pocket and said "use these".

Girl: "But then they'll be wet when I put them back on!"

Me: "Then don't put them back on."

She stared at me for a second before resigning herself to her fate. She wiped her legs down with her panties and tried to figure out somewhere to put them. Her purse was small and the panties were pretty wet by this point. She looked at me as though to ask me to carry them in my pocket without opening her mouth. I motioned to the trash can. She hung her head for a second and resigned herself for the second time in as many minutes. She threw them away.

We came out of the bathroom and were happily NOT greeted by Rent-A-Cops or even actual honest-to-jeebus police mans. We were however, confronted by a woman whose expression quickly went from "perfectly normal" to "insanely angry" once she saw us both exit the Family Restroom with no child in-tow. She opened her mouth to scream but thought better of it when her toddler pulled her hand towards the open bathroom door. I flashed a devious smile and let out a hearty laugh as I pulled the girl away from the increasingly angry woman.

So while that was far from the most odd or uncomfortable place to have sex, I thought that the story justified its inclusion on this list. Let's hear yours.

Unconventional Kinks - RTOTD #773

Day 773

So I've been thinking about this a little recently and wanted to maybe throw some of those thoughts down onto the intertron about them. So here's a series of disjointed thoughts just thrown at the keyboard this morning with no real attempt to make them into a coherent post.

1. I think we've all figured out that I have a thing for slutty/skanky/trampy/trashy/bimbo-ish girls at this point. And I've kinda come to realize that a lot of my old kinks are fading a bit in the past year or 2 while this particular kink has grown stronger and stronger. To the point where it's almost reached fetish level for me.

2. Continuing on this, with other kinks becoming of lesser and lesser interest while this one grows, is this a sign that I have a finite amount of kinkiness and as one kink grows stronger, another must fade to accomodate it? Would that even make any sense? It might, but it also might not. I haven't put that much thought into it yet.

3. Where does that leave me with some of my other kinks? They don't seem as important to engage in anymore. I mean, I want to, but I just don't have that same motivation. Is it because I am so "out of practice" with playing with rope or throwing a flogger or even keeping my rhythm with drumsticks, that I don't know if I want to re-hone those skills? Is that a thing? Do I want to experience some of the learning curve that I had many years ago when I first started playing around with rope and impact?

4. I don't really play much, and I don't really go out of my way to find people to play with. My intensity level is lower when it comes to this. Do I need to just say "fuck it" and play around with some of my more conventional kinks and see if that same animalistic and sadistic side grows stronger again?

Not everything that once fit somewhere
will always fit in the same place

5. What would that do to my bimbo-fetish if I do, in fact, have a finite quantity of kinkiness to spread around to my different interests?

6. Where do I really fit in around here if this is my most powerful kink and the others are kinda reaching the "meh" stage? It's not a conventional kink. In fact, it seems to be a pretty niche kink. When everyone else is playing with rope or beating the hell out of someone, I'm standing and staring and trying to work on an art project of designing the most asthetically appealing look on a girl and helping to bring out a side of her that is often downright whorish. That's not exactly the most conventional kink or the most easy to play with in a scene. It's not something where I can go "ok, and this begins the scene and this other thing here ends it and here's what we're going to do in between"... this is a kinda endless scene with one person. It doesn't really have a set beginning, middle, or end like a play session. There's not really any way TO play in the conventional "let's have a scene at this party/dungeon/home tonight" sense.

7. How many of my other kinks fit this same unconventional category? How many are uncategorizable? How many are niche? How many other people are in the same boat?

8. Finally... where is the happy medium between my bimbo fetish and my more conventional kinks? Because I think I'm losing it if I ever had a grip on where it was.

So yeah... there's a bunch of words about this. Maybe at some point, I'll actually write something up that makes more sense, but not right now. I just wanted to throw this down and maybe some of the comments will spur some other thoughts that tie this shit together. Because as of right now, these are all terribly fragmented and there's a lot of rambling nonsense involved. A mix of practical and metaphysical bullshit that is a little hard to tie together.

Ok... I'm done with this for now.

Dead Stripper or "Strippers Don't Bounce" - RTOTD #772

Day 772

So I don't know if you saw this... but it's probably more amusing to our Cleveland bretheren than to the Pittsburgh folks, but a few weeks ago, a stripper in Cleveland at one of the clubs in the Flats fell off a balcony while performing a lap dance. She had decided to do some move involving holding onto a railing at the top of the balcony and well.. let's just say that her cocaine-addled brain probably didn't really register it as the bad idea that it was.

Long story short... she fell. On her damn head. And has been in the hospital for a few weeks in the ICU.

Well... apparently she died. It sucks. While there's no shortage of girls with daddy issues and a coke problem (or a few kids from a few different fathers that need taken care of) to take up the torch and fill that job of selling her dignity a dollar at a time, it's always disappointing when the ones willing to do acrobatic shit in those 7" heels gets herself hurt or killed. Or when they stab somebody in the eye with those heels.

Or that time one busted Whiskey's nose at the nudie bar with her ass. That was kinda awesome. (seriously... buy my book. the story is in there and it's awesome)

I don't know what the point of this was other than to use Dead Stripper as a post title. But yeah...

On an entirely different note... I got my new bullhorn the other day. And it is amazing. I tested it out last night. Not only am I still ungodly loud, I'm now louder AND I can project my awesomeness further.

I'm not sure if that constitutes a threat or not. But whatever... You're in for a fucking treat in the future. It probably is a quick way to a Disturbing The Peace citation though. Mix that with some Devil's Juice and well.. if you could find a more direct path to the drunk tank without collecting $200 that doesn't include picking up a CHANCE card, I don't know it.

Ask Me Anything - RTOTD #771

Day 771

So we're going to do another Ask Me Anything today.

I figured that the first one was fun. But it was kinda hidden in the old naming format for this column. So go ahead and ask me questions. I'll answer them all. On Fet, Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, or the Blogger site. Wherever the question is asked, I'll answer. And if I can, I'll even try to repost the question and my answer to all the other locations as well.

This AMA will be an all-day affair with me answering anything until the UnMunch tonight at 7:00 at Hoffbrauhaus.

So let's make with the questions. About the column, about my thoughts on things, about my stories, the people in them, music, comics, movies, technology, girls, kinky shit.... whatever. I'm game for anything.

And to answer the first question before it's even asked... yes, I'm doing this because I don't have anything more interesting to write about today. Maybe someone will spark something to get a few neurons to fire for me and you'll get a Point One post with something more entertaining. But trust me... this shit IS entertaining if you ask questions.

Let's Go - RTOTD #770

Day 770

T-10 Days and counting... if everything goes according to rumors.



That's all I really gotta say.

And maybe a little bit of this:

Go Pens

Tin Foil Hats - RTOTD #769

Day 769

You know... there really aren't any cool conspiracy theory things out there anymore. The last one we had was what? The "9/11 was an inside job" thing? We're totally falling behind the past.

The 60's and 70's had the Kennedy Assassination and Moon Landing and the Beatles and Pink Floyd and the Wizard of Oz and all of the crazy conspiracy theories that went along with that. Not to mention having the Big Red Monster lurking across the other side of the planet and the KGB was everywhere.

Then the 80's had some awesome ones with heavy metal being all satanic and backwards lyrics and shit. Aliens got big again. The Big Red Monster was even scarier. A nutbag took a shot at Reagan. Wall Street was filled with wizards and shit. There were some awesome conspiracy theories.

Then the 90's were awesome. But all of them had to do with Clinton, which was weird.

I mean... I guess we have the "Birther" thing and the "closet commie" thing now.

But that makes me realize something... ever since the 90's, all of our cool conspiracy theories that you can get stoned and bullshit about for hours (because you're stoned and otherwise would get irritated by the topic in about 5 minutes because fuck politics)... they all revolve around politics now. It sucks. They all revolve around the President. Even during Bush, it was "Cheney is the devil!" conspiracy theory.

We need cooler conspiracy theories. So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna start making some up. That have nothing to do with politics. We need some cool ones. I mean... the 80's and 90's also brought us the "Richard Gere Gerbil" thing...

So let's come up with some.

I have a few that I think could totally gain some traction.

1) Panda Bears are actually human/raccoon/bear hybrids from the future sent back in time to study the past and figure out why the fuck humans got so fucking fat before hybridizing (is that a word? I think it is. Or it damn well should be) with bears and raccoons.

2) Motherfucking Aliens! They built the pyramids and a bunch of other shit thousands of years ago. And they're coming back because the round trip is almost done.

3) Steve Jobs didn't die. They simply downloaded his consciousness into the Apple Mainframe and they're still in the process of building a body or host to defragment his personality matrix. They tried to use the robot that eventually was programmed to be called Mitt Romney, but it didn't have the storage space. It also didn't look right in black turtlenecks, so they started looking for a backup plan.

4) The government and the media and the entertainment business have gotten together to put together a plan that so confuses and contradicts itself about what behaviors and thoughts should be glorified and what should be condemned so that we're all forced, within 10 years, to just say "fuck it, tell me what to think all the time" and call it a day. They glorify and condemn sex, drugs, driving fast, firearms, traditional masculinity, alcohol, smoking, feminism, nationalism and everything else at the same time. When they're done, we won't know what to think or do, and just become mindless drones for our masters.

5) Canada is secretly building a 500 foot tall Mech-Warrior inside of a mountain in Western Canada. There is also a tunnel that leads all the way from Alberta (where it was built) to Toronto so that when it makes its world-destroying debut, it doesn't have to travel across country after being built. Because even taking over the world has an East Coast bias when it comes to the media coverage.

6) Batman is real.

7) There is a secret cabal of ninjas that patrol the streets at night and keep the tentacle beasts of the deep at bay.

8) The eschaton has actually been immanentized but we lack the capcity to percieve it yet.

9) I am secretly a viral hallucination from that time where your mom told you not to eat that whole back of special mushrooms. It's your fault that I have spread and infected everyone else. Blame yourself.

10) When you commit suicide, you're actually escaping the Matrix. If you kill yourself, you can live on to fight our robot overlords.

11) We are actually the fiction of our fictional archtypes. This is all Superman's Kryptonian dream on his way to escape his home planet.

12) If you buy my book, it has secret lessons of ancient wizardry in it. Become a wizard. Buy my book.

BEARS!!!! - RTOTD #768

Day 768

So, am I the only one that wants like a dozen bears as pets? Because that would be kinda fucking awesome. I really want a Polar Bear and a Panda Bear and a Brown Bear and maybe even a Koala Bear.

Yes... I know it's not a bear. But fuck you, it's cute.

So... here's a bunch of cute bears being cute. Because... fuck you... BEARS!!!

Strippers in LA - RTOTD #767

Day 767

I never thought the day would come when I would be sitting in a Los Angeles titty bar and pining for the strip clubs of western Pennsylvania. But alas, I was doing just that only a few short weeks ago.

You would think that the state where most of our porn originates from would be less prudish with their strip club laws than a rather puritanical state like Pennsylvania when it comes to anything sexual. You'd also be wrong.

I mean, PA is a state where you can't consent to battery, where any sort of kinky anything as a service is considered prostitution, and where we might even still have sodomy laws. I'm not sure about that last part, but considering my penchant for butt sex, and my luck, I have a feeling that we do and I'm breaking it every time the girl is on the rag and it's anal and blowjob week. I'm pretty sure we still even have a law on the books that all-but bans sorority houses because houses with more than 7 non-blood-related unmarried females living in it together without any men is considered a "house of ill-repute".  I don't know all of our laws, but let's just say that when I think about freedom of sexual expression, and which states are the best for it... well... PA doesn't exactly pop into my head anywhere near the top of the list.

Fuck, when our courts overturned the "no full-frontal-nudity if the strip club serves booze" law a few years back, I figured we were just getting somewhere near enlightened and on par with the rest of the country.

Then I decided to hit up the nudie bars with the GM of our LA yard (The Surfer) while I was visiting.

Now, one caveat to keep in mind. We didn't hit the DOWNTOWN LA or Valley strip clubs. We hit the Spearmint Rhino in Torrance. Over kinda near Manhattan and Redondo Beaches. Now, I've heard good things about this place. I've at least HEARD of it and I'd never bothered with going to LA before this. I'm not really much of a People's Republic of California type guy. The Left Coast isn't really my idea of a place I wanna spend much time. So with it being a place I've at least heard of, and The Surfer was taking me there, I figured the place would be pretty good.

When we walked in the door, I had a feeling that I knew what we were getting into. And it was all kinds of not good.

As you also may have picked up from the past few years of my rambling mess of a column here, I love me some strippers. But the thing is... I can be somewhat brutal in my criticisms of anything from their body to their routines to their personality and the amount of effort that they put out. I can't stand the entitled stripper that thinks that she should be handed my dollar just for being hot and glancing in my general fucking direction for a few seconds out of a minute and a half of a song. Fuck that bullshit and fuck you, whore. You're not that hot and you're not that interesting. Earn your dollar. Your dignity is a pretty reasonable exchange rate.

First, like everywhere else in the People's Republic of California, it's non-smoking. This isn't really that big of a change. Erotica is non-smoking here now ever since they remodeled. And considering that it's SoCal, and fairly warm, being forced to go outside for a smoke wasn't that big of an inconvenience.

And the bar had a pretty decent selection of beers to choose from. I was able to get a Guinness, which is a step-up from the swill that they serve at most of the strip joints around here and that I've hit in other cities. But considering that it's a $1 bottomless beer at Erotica or dollar drinks at a lot of the other clubs I've been to, it's not too bad of a trade-off. Paying $5 for a pretty decent sized Guinness at a nudie bar in LA isn't something I'm gonna complain about. $5 for a good beer vs free shit beer? Fuck it, I'm on an expense account. I'll pay for a good beer.

But the second thing I noticed was that while the girls were pretty hot, they weren't really all that much more talented than the locals at home. Although I will certainly say that the girls out there filled out their tops a decent bit better than a lot of the dancers locally. Probably just because fake tits are kind of a factory option out there and a luxury add-on here. But beyond that, the girls weren't appreciably better. Maybe if my only frame of reference for comparison was the Beehive in New Alexandria, the Tennyson Lodge, or that topless cafe in North Carolina, my opinion might have been better. But compared to the clubs in the city that I've been do? The girls were frankly not all that significantly better.

At this point, we were about par for the course for strip clubs. Mid-East Coast vs West Coast was sitting at a tie. But that's where the tie ends. From here on out, I was disappointed.

The next thing that I noticed was that absolutely nobody actually sits at the bar there. They all sit back at tables and wait for the girls to get off stage and hustle their way around the room trying to hunt for sales. This annoys the shit out of me. Not because I give a damn how much or little these girls make, but because the girls making virtually nothing for their time on stage means that they're in full-on used car salesman mode when they're wandering the floor. They don't have the time or energy to actually interact with the customers. And god-dammit, I have no desire to just get a sales pitch thrown at me from the minute they come up to me until they go away.

The other thing that was a major disappointment was that you were lucky if they took off their bra while they were dancing. Not only were they not nude, but they were effectively just dancing in bikinis the whole time. And not even the "might as well be naked" kinda bikini that is more my taste. No, these girls might as well have rolled in off the beach and just thrown on a pair of stripper heels and started dancing. I've seen more skin at a rave or a dance club.

And don't even get me started on their complete ineptitude with using the pole. I didn't see one dancer there that knew that the pole was for something more than just holding onto and swaying around with one foot planted firmly on the floor.

Now, after grabbing a couple beers for The Surfter and myself, we found a table just back from the stage. I was going to grab a seat at the stage since it was wide open, but he stopped me and said to grab a table instead. I still don't entirely understand why nobody sits at the actual stage in LA strip clubs, and never really got an answer, but this was his turf and I was just along for the ride, so whatever. I figured I'd just follow his lead.

Within a moment, we each had girls throwing themselves at us with all the sincerity of a cokehead that's still gotta earn the other half of that day's habit. They were amusing and playful and obviously out of their god damned minds on some sort of mind-altering substance. The big-titted blonde that was draping herself all over The Surfer was cute and engaging. The skinny latina with a poor grasp of the English language and a heavy accent that had hopped into my lap and wrapped herself around me? Not so much. She wasn't ugly or anything, but she was a few years past her prime and her ass sagged in that same way that girls that have a few extra miles after 3 kids from 3 unknown fathers have a tendency to sag. I was not enjoying this. Plus, I kinda hated The Surfer at the time. Mostly because he had already fallen into her trap and was being dragged off for a lap dance while leaving me with saggy ass.

I tried to be as nice as possible while telling her to get the fuck away from me and send over someone that could speak English and wasn't in the country illegally. Her tears told me that I didn't do as good of a job as I thought that I did. Her other 3 attempts to get my attention over the next 45 minutes told me that I might have done better than her initial reaction indicated.

After The Surfer came back, I finally attracted the attention of one of the few other girls there that I thought might have been able to exceed the talent level of your average Pittsburgh strip club. When I had initially realized that 95% of the girls at this place were no more attractive than your average mid-talent stripper in Pittsburgh, I had decided that I wouldn't be spending any cash on any girl that I couldn't confuse for a hometown stripper. And I had finally found one.

One positive that I did find was that their lap dances were only $15, as opposed to the normal $20 locally. There was, however, a trade-off to that. Not only were the girls not nude, but it wasn't really as much of a lap dance as a "sit in 1/2 of a diner booth while she grinds on you through her bikini" dance. They didn't have chairs. They didn't have the lounger things. They had a wall with one side of a diner booth from Eat N Park lined up one after another and 8-10 inch partitions between them. So you were effectively sitting straight up and didn't even really have any armrests to put your hands with the no-touch rules that these places have. So fuck it, I decided that her ass and thighs were a perfectly good armrest. The bouncer didn't seem to object and neither did the dancer.

The other bonus this night was that they were buying "but 2, get a 3rd free" lap dances. So fuck it. $30 for 3 songs wasn't bad. Even with the shitty accomodations and lack of nudity. Honestly, it was about a fair price. I got half of a lap dance by my standards, and paid half price. So it kinda came out in the wash. Come to think of it, I don't know if I could even consider it half a lap dance. It was, at best, a "drunk whore at the club" quality lap dance. I wouldn't pay for that, so maybe it wasn't really all that fair of a price. But fuck it... expense account.

After wandering back out to the table after my 3 songs, I found The Surfer again. He had found some guys that he had partied with in his 20's before he got married and was hanging out. I joined them.

The Surfer: "You don't look too happy"

Me: "I just paid money for a girl in a bikini to grind on me. How was that worth it?"

Guy #1: "What do you expect, it's a strip club?"

Me: "I expect them to strip. As in, take their clothes off."

Guy #2: "You mean like fully nude?"

Me: "That's what I consider a strip club"

Guy #1: "Then you can't drink"

Me: "The fuck I can't! I never thought I'd ever see the day where I said that Pittsburgh strip clubs were better than LA strip clubs, but I guess that's exactly what I'm saying"

Just then, a cute girl came over with her friend that could have been a sister or fraternal twin. She threw herself around me and jumped into my lap. I wasn't complaining. I had already been drinking for about 4 hours by this point and she was cute, young, and had some rather exceptional fake tits.

Stripper #1: "Hi! What are you guys talking about"

The Surfer: "He was just doing a comparison between the strip clubs in LA and Pittsburgh"

Stripper #2: "Oh? We're totally better, right?"

Me: "Actually, the opposite. I mean... you girls might average a half point higher as a roster than some of the clubs in Pittsburgh, but you also might as well be dancing in your underwear. Yippy. I can see that at a dance club."

Stripper #1: "But you can't drink if we were naked"

Me: "Bullshit. I come to a strip club, I expect booze and naked girls. If I can get that in puritanical Pennsylvania, I should be able to get that in debaucherous Los Angeles."

Stripper #1: "But if we were naked, where would the imagination be?"

Me: "Do you know when I don't mind imagining what you look like naked while you're dancing? When I'm taking you home to fuck you later and goign to find out if my imagination and reality match up. But considering that you're probably not about to come home with me, I don't give a fuck what my imagination comes up with. I want the reality if I'm paying"

Stripper #1: "Well, let me see if I can get you to change your mind"

Me: "About taking you home with me or caring what my imagination comes up with?"

Stripper #1: *just grins*

Me: "Well then, I think you have some hard selling to do!"

After another 20 minutes of her trying to sell me on a lap dance, I finally relented. They were still doing the 3-for-$30 lap dances, so I decided to give it a shot.

Following her to the lap dance area, I ended up in almost the exact same booth as last time and let her get started. She kinda cheated by starting her first dance 1/3 of the way through a song, but she didn't want to waste any time and I was OK with it. I wasn't paying anyway.

She spent the next 10 minutes or so doing everything in her power to get a reaction out of me, including pulling my hands onto her back, ass, thighs, and pretty much giving me carte blanche to feel her up over her bikini. I took advantage and went to town. She teased like a pro and I growled while digging my fingers into her back. At one point in the last song, she ended up staring at me while I was in mid-growl and shuddered while dropping hard down onto my crotch and wrapping her arms around my neck.

As the song ended, I stood up, almost throwing her off me. She stood there, looking up at me, even in her heels and shuddered again before shaking her head to regain her own composure. Her eyes were glazed and she was biting her lip. She shook her head, clearing it before looking at me again and used a line that I've never heard a stripper use before.

Stripper #1: "You're dangerous. I don't know if I've ever been this terrified and turned on at the same time at work. I kinda like it"

Me: "I"m a horrible person and I do bad things. I'm gussing that makes me your type"

Stripper #1: "It's a good thing you're not from around here"

Me: "I think that's my cue to walk away now. That was fun."

Stripper #1: "You're telling me!"

I found The Sufer and his friends again and we decided that it was about time to leave.

One of The Sufer's friends decided to come with us and we ventured off to find another club. We did. It was a nude club this time, but didn't serve alcohol. We only lasted about 20 minutes in this place before deciding that it was time to jet again. The talent at this club was significantly lower than the last one. Not quite to the level of The Tennyson or anything, but still appreciably lower. I didn't see any knee braces or Foxx racing logos as tramp stamps, but this place was still not really all that special. And the lack-there-of alcohol pretty much killed any interest we had in the place after about 15 minutes.

We ended up calling it a night around this time. The Surfer got a pissed-off phone call from his wive because we had been out for almost 6 hours by this point and well... she kinda seemed like the jealous type. And considering that The Surfer was pretty obviously a partying kinda guy, and she didn't seem like she was that dumb, she probably had a pretty good idea of what we were up to.

I did end up hitting an In N Out Burger on the way back to my hotel that night. That kinda made my night end on a decent note.