Tag Archives: M/M erotica

Slippery When Wet or Too #Sexy for my Blog or The Art of Writing Male/Male Anal

Did you sing that horrible song when you read the title?  A small, malicious part of me hopes so. >:-) Oh! I didn’t mean anything Bon Jovi, although this is a musical entry, I must say. Anyway, allow me to serenade you while we go at it, here.

The Slippery When Wet Blog Hop begins today, and I am ill-prepared. Or maybe too prepared. Anyway, I have a blog post I penned a while back, which seemed too risqué to send to other places as a guest blog, but is just right tonight after realizing I have two hours to get this sweetheart posted. Enter: The Art of Writing Male/Male Anal.

The Art of Writing M/M Anal

This won’t be comprehensive, but how about the basics for virgin author’s everywhere who want to delve into the great “Do Not Enter?” Sometimes it’s not just an exit, ladies and gentleman, but there are a couple of things we’re going to need in order to get this bird off the ground. So wave your magic pen and produce these magical items:

1.         Condom.  This baby gets top billing for most smut peddlers the world over. Publishing houses, generally speaking, are pretty firm on the “No Creampie” rule. That’s not to say you can’t sneak them in once in a while, especially in short stories which are more likely to fall into the erotica without romance or stupid people having risky sex categories (read: one seat closer to the almighty porn throne).  I wrote a short for Shane Allison’s Bad Boy anthology with Cleis Press (which should be out soon, actually) and had a bank robber getting it on with a hostage right after the hold up. Needless to say, there were no condoms available at the hideout in the woods. Obviously plot factors into your safe sex decision.

Also, if your MCs are in a serious, committed relationship, and you’ve laid that on the line—maybe even with a side note on VD testing (archaic term that is so Pretty in Pink it makes me smile–no, wait, I think that was Sixteen Candles)—you can go ahead and get really nasty. But—general rule of thumb—have a rubber in someone’s pocket/drawer/under the seat of their car/in the little booze container around their faithful St. Barnard’s neck.  Whatever. Non-human exceptions exist as well.  Aliens don’t carry AIDS and all you need is a rabies shot to get it on with a wolf shifter.

2.         Lube. This runs alongside the condom. For one, rubbers—even if they say lubricated—are going to make things, shall we say, rougher, than skin on skin. Also, chicks have the built-in lube. That’s right, we can make our own, so in vaginal sex no one gets bent out of shape if a bottle of K-Y isn’t sitting on your fictional dresser. But M/M? The human ass needs a helping hand (full of spit or jelly).  Spit isn’t the best, but it’s always available unless they are trapped in the Sahara, in which case, I doubt they’re feeling too amorous.

3.         A little foreplay. Even if you’ve got the rubber on your big burly top, he’s squirted an entire bottle of love-lotion on his long-stocking, and his pretty boyfriend is face-down-ass-up, it isn’t nice to just stick it in without a little preamble.  Rimming works, but if your guys aren’t so inclined, a gradual finger work-up is really the kinder, gentler thing to do than insta-penetration.

4.         Mention of the prostate.  No, it isn’t a prostrate like your mother-in-law calls it.  That means lying down with your face smashed into a pillow, which may well be the case with your sexy little bottom who happens to be getting his prostate hammered by his bear.  Not necessarily something you MUST mention, but seems to be a huge factor in the pleasure experience for the guy getting fucked.  I don’t know.  I don’t have one myself, and frankly I feel robbed. I’m going to go write my congressman right now.

5.         The grand finale!  I don’t need to tell you how to do this, really. The world is your orgasm oyster.  Have a fire hose showdown if you like.  One thing to remember is that if the guy on bottom gets off first, I hear tell having a big dick in his ass for an extended time after can be uncomfortable.  Again, I can’t verify this personally and I can’t ask my husband.  I also can’t take part in a fire hose showdown.  Robbed again.  Why else do you think I write this stuff?  It’s the closest I can cum, er come, I’m afraid. 😥

—————

There you have it! Now go out there and write some hot manlove. Who knows? You could be a natural! If you don’t feel comfortable doing it yourself, feel free to comment below for a chance to win my e-book “Forever is Now” and I’ll be happy to provide it for you.

In your comment, you may tell me your favorite 80’s song/movie or must-have male/male gettin’-it-on accouterments I missed. Fire at will, contest open all over the universe, and don’t forget to check out all the other blogs and comment like a mother-fucker.  Every comment on every stop gets you one step closer to the $50 gift card giveaway. I don’t make the rules, I just play by them (yeah, right).

-Kimber

This is a Blog Hop!



TRR Blog Hop: Review: An Unauthorized Field Guide to the Hunt

What to say about AUFGTTH by Kari Gregg? For one thing, I love the title. It’s just so big.

I’ll admit, my interest was piqued the moment I saw the cover. Sci-fi male/male with what appeared to be a Hunger Games-esque beat?

I wanted it.

But I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the plot via the blurb. What the hell was going on, exactly? I waited for some reviews to pop up and read those. Still, I didn’t really “get it” based on what others were saying either.

So I bought it.

Admittedly, I think I have a better grasp for the whole hunting/off-world system, but during my read I was still fuzzy on some of the rules of the hunt. What was the purpose, precisely? Some guys wanted to get laid. Some cats wanted to get laid. Some species wanted to improve trade relations with a planet whose inhabitants are either fucking people/aliens or killing them. Or maybe fucking them to death?  Anyway, now that I’m done, I still don’t have all the answers—as in, I couldn’t possibly write a coherent book report on this without some CliffsNotes and a fair amount of smoke for blowing up people’s asses.

That being said, I still liked it.

Unauthorized Field Guide is brutal and dark. There is a fair amount of bloodshed and broken bones—and I thoroughly enjoyed that. I love gritty.

The sex scenes are both hot and cringe-worthy. Biting, scratching, and barbed penises are the order of the day. They gave me pause and wet panties all at once. Fine and dandy.

Some reviews I’ve read stated that the ending wasn’t satisfactory. I was concerned that the book I had pegged for four stars was going to slip as I hit 80%.

No such thing. The ending was action-packed—savage as the rest of the book, with the “bad guy” behind it all being the person no one expected.  There could have been just a smidgen more foreshadowing in that department IMO, but, again, I was a-okay with the grand finale.

Overall, Guide was a fast-paced fuck-fest that tries for a bit of lovey HEA at the end without shoving the rainbow sprinkles down your throat, thankfully.

I liked it, and would recommend to anyone looking for a quick thrill ride that delivers in all the dark and dirty places.

———–

So, what’s the giveaway? That’s what everyone came here for, right?  Well, I’m giving away a copy of my new release, “Forever is Now.” Follow my blog and drop me a quick comment to be entered.

foreverisnow

Blurb:

If you love someone, set him free. If he steals something of yours, hunt him down and make him sorry.

Alex Bremen is over Chance Ralan. Ever since his high school boyfriend ditched him nine years ago, Alex has barely thought of Chance at all. Sure, Alex attended a concert or two when his ex’s band, Armageddon Showdown, was in the area, but that was more curiosity than anything else. Who wouldn’t want to see firsthand how his once clean-cut boyfriend transformed into a pierced and tattooed heavy metal god?

But when Chance has the nerve to record a love song Alex wrote for him years ago, Alex crosses the country to confront him. Revenge becomes a dish best served sizzling hot. The two men lock horns, but find the chemistry between them has only intensified with time, and occasionally love needs to do some growing up before it can be done right.

——————————-

Oh, and don’t forget to check out my “Name that Dog” contest. I need a puppy name ASAP for the furry fellow in my next book in the series. If I pick your suggested name, you’ll get a $20 Amazon gift card, a shout-out in my acknowledgements, and an e-copy of “Double Takes: Shooting Stars Book 2” when it comes out.

Feel free to add your name suggestions in your comments below! 🙂
The Romance Reviews Hop

Click above to be ushered to another random blog hop participant.  If you haven’t registered at TRR and/or logged in, click on the button to go to the top right side of the page on TRR to do so. Registration is free, and then you can click your way through the hop, nice and easy. 🙂

-Kimber


The View From My Office–My Writing Space

Now I sit me down to write

Be sure my back cushion feels just right

Knock questionable tissues onto the floor

Look for Post Its–I must have more!

Squint and strain at scribbled notes

What?  Have my MC milk a goat?

Little, Brown share the space

With “How to Write Erotica” (in your face)

Cup of coffee, still pretty hot

Just get writing.  Screw the plot!

Can't close the door.  My office is in the eat-in kitchen/family room.

Can’t close the door. My office is in the eat-in kitchen/family room. Kids’ craft zone in the drawers beneath.

And, yes, my office comes complete with karaoke.  Sometimes I just need to sing.  This is actually an old shot.  I now have five Living Dead Dolls keeping a milky eye (okay, seven milky eyes, two red, and one black) on me from up top.

8-26-12 N2

What the hell is this? A weird Dragonosaur punch balloon with his crystal ball of clarity? Yeah, he’s gone now, but he sure was a fine mascot for some time.

LIVING DEAD DOLLS : Eggzorcist

LIVING DEAD DOLLS : Eggzorcist (Photo credit: minowa*naitoh)  Yes, I do have this one.  My BFF thought I needed these to help with my horror writing.  Indeed, she was correct.

So that’s where my magic <cough cough> happens.  What weirdness do you keep in your “office?”

-Kimber


The Second Semi-Annual Search Terms Review

And only seven months behind the first semi-annual search terms review, I’d say that “semi-annual” business can’t be refuted.  You can call me late to dinner (since I’m the one making it anyway), but don’t call me a liar.

Anyway, heading up the search terms pack, we have the ever present Anthony Kiedis and his mysterious penis.  Everyone apparently wants to know: What is it like?  Where does it hang out?  Does it have a nickname?  Do tricks?  Get into any hard-to-scratch places?

English: "Anthony Kiedis (lead singer). R...

English: “Anthony Kiedis (lead singer). Red Hot Chilli Pepper in concert at The Forum, Inglewood, California. Stadium Arcadium Tour.” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As usual, I am just as curious and in the dark as the rest of you.  Apologies.

The next-highest is a newcomer in the search pool–experimental sex.  Fun!  Who doesn’t want to know more about experimental sex?  But I wonder what, specifically, my searchers hoped to find?  Experimental positions?  Bunsen burners and beakers kinda shit?  Kink (’cause Bunsen burners don’t fall under kink–right)?  Same sex couplings?  I don’t know.  I’d love to broaden my (and your) horizons, but I’m afraid the horizon is simply too broad.

That being said, I’ve got some kinky Dr. Jekyl/Mrs. Hyde stuff thrusting around my head at the moment.  It might bear further examination.

Third, our favorite Matt Bomer makes his appearance.  People want him to do porn.  That’s all I can deduce.  For the record, I would watch it.  Twice.

Our forth-place search is the ever delightful “Cowboy Erotica.”  We love sexy cowboys, and with good reason.  They’re sexy.  And they’re cowboys.

After a few more versions of Anthony Kiedis searches (cock size and fan fic), we, happily, have searches for me, Kimber Vale.  That makes sense, seeing as how this is my damn blog and not Anthony Kiedis’.  If, however, he wants author privileges here, I will grant them in exchange for a live measuring of the organ we’re all so interested in (measurements taken by Yours Truly, of course).

Now that the winners have been credited, lets roll on to the funny, the weird, and the downright disturbing…

Show me the sexiest cowboy calendar.”  It’s like “show me the money” or the answer to a  Jeopardy question.  Does this person always Google this way?  Seems like a lot of unnecessary typing.  Show me “free gay porn” for a thousand, Alex!

Gay songs for gay people.”  Not to be confused with gay songs for straight people.  Whatever, this search promises some fun tunes.  It must, because it landed someone on my blog, and I only post fun tunes.

Oh, wait.  That’s an angry tune for angry people.  Actually, I chose this because I am going to see these guys tomorrow night.  Buyah.

Best alcohol for an erection tequila.”  Sounds like you just answered your own question, buddy.

Romance novels that talk about fucking dick and pussy.”  Yup.  Next time, search erotica and save your fingers the trouble.

Why did you spank my clit Daddy?”  For the record, I don’t write this sub-genre of smut.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Seems this question would be better answered in an e-mail or phone call, rather than a Bing search.  Badda bing, badda bang, Daddy.

Why does anal sex feel so right yet so wrong?”  Who says it’s wrong?  Your mother?  Your proctologist?  Whatever!  It’s my ass, I’ll do with it what I want.  Someone pass me the Preparation H, will ya?

How does smurf in wizard of oz looks like?”  Excuse me.  What?

Draino margarita.”  Well, it’s an old family recipe, but since we’re so close and I trust you implicitly, I gift you with the deets.  Take one part Draino.  Mix with one part tequila.  Rocks or straight up, your choice.  Puke it into the sink with the slowest drain, flush both pipes with hot water, and see your doctor immediately.

Blow job plastic bib.”  I love this one!  I just picture a lobster bib only it has a picture of a huge, dripping cock on the front.  Tie one on before your next romantic encounter!  Monica Lewinsky sure wishes she did!  Slurp.

And, finally, “How do I talk dirty without being too VLOGGER.”  Just talk dirty on your BLOG, my friend.  Keep it church clean on the VLOG.  You Tube will totally ban you for that shit.

Thanks for all the fab search material, friends!  Don’t forget to tip your waiter!

-Kimber


Wading into the Slush Pile

I was rabidly devouring info on turn-around time for submissions to certain pubs on Absolute Write yesterday.  That’s a productive use of writing time, no? Okay, it’s not.  It’s about the same as haunting Web MD in search of an ailment that matches the numerous questionable symptoms you (I) have lately.  It’s enough to make you think you’re dying as far as the symptom-checker goes, and enough to make you second guess the submission you (I) just sent and get absolutely no work done.

46. symptoms of cancer Courtesy of techtechboo...

46. symptoms of cancer Courtesy of techtechboom.com (Photo credit: TipsTimes)

In my case, it made me realize that I never wrote “Dear [Anybody]” at the top of my submission.  Nothing.  Just tacked my synopsis and full onto the attachments and launched into a brief description.  The automatic response email didn’t flat-out call me an a-hole, but I doubt it has those detection abilities.

So then I had to search for the etiquette behind the “Dear Editor” thing.  Is it really necessary?  I know I’ve read “the rules” before.  I planned to send my sub in as picture-perfectly as possible.  I read everything on the site numerous times, and triple checked to be sure I had included all of the requested info.  I self-edited until my eyes bled.

But they never told me to be polite on the web site and I just plum forgot.

Crud buckets.

I’m not rude, generally speaking.  When I burp, I say the word “burp” which I think is way classier than a loud belch.  I always remember my “pleases” and “thank yous”–case in point, I remembered to thank the mysterious entity on the other side of my email for their consideration after I dumped my electronic business in their inbox.  Perhaps I earned back one of my demerits in the closing.

Well, the fact is, I don’t believe I’ll be summarily rejected for lack of an opening greeting.  Me being me, I feel like if I received a tug boat full of perky, overly friendly, and downright presumptuous submission emails each day, I’d want to punch someone in the face.  Cut to the chase.  We all know why we’re here.  Sorta like long-winded and cocky bios–I don’t like to write them and it pisses me off/gives me a reason to make fun of people when I read them.

Halifax Harbour

Halifax Harbour (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dear Editor,

You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I think you’ll be interested to read what I am sending you.  The fact is, I’ve been having sex for years now, and I fancy myself an A+ fucker.  It was only natural for me to translate my sexpertise into smutty fiction.  I’m sure you’ll find my submission to be the best you’ve ever read and will want to thank me in person.  I will graciously allow you to buy me a drink at my earliest convenience   I just know we are going to be best friends.

You may find a link to all of my illustrious writings below.  Once you sample my authorial prowess, no doubt you will be interested in purchasing my other work.  Use coupon code IMAJERK10 for 10% off for a limited time only.

Thanks for your consideration,

[insert revoltingly flowery pen name here]

I like a bio with a bit of mystery.  Or maybe that is just my excuse for keeping them as short as possible because I hate writing them.  Food for thought.

Back to my point (if I ever had one, other than trying to justify my stupidity).  Does placing a specific editor‘s name on the top of one’s submission help it out of the slush pile?  Without an agent or a well-known name, aren’t we all just doomed to doggy paddle around in the slushy pool?  A flashy swimsuit won’t get us out of there any faster, will it?  I like to think, if I don’t drown immediately, I’ve got the same chance as the kids with the Speedos on, right?

Here is an interesting link on the subject.  I like this guy’s style.  Of course, in the end he says “Dear Editor” is just fine.  Nothing about having a cheesy log line for a greeting…

At least it got me off of Web MD for a short while.  I can’t die from idiocy, can I?

-Kimber


Bombing My NaNo! BOOM!

It started out so well, but then all hell broke loose.  I wrote about 7000 words the first week, and was feeling good.  I mean, I had no plans to write 50K this month.  This was a pseudo-NaNo from the get-go, but I was excited, inspired, prepared to rock the shit out of this half-assed NaNo thing I was signing up for in my mind!  I set a goal of a solid thousand words a day to get a good chunk of a novel written for November.  For the first half of the week, I was even sprinting away at REAL NaNo pace.

I’m a wiener!

And then came school cancellations, followed by in-laws.  When they left, my mom came to visit for the weekend.  Add helping out with kid’s classes, various kid-related Thanksgiving feasts, and time off for Turkey Day, and my writing hours are seriously sucking wind.

Thanksgiving at the Trolls

Thanksgiving at the Trolls (Photo credit: martha_chapa95)  Now this looks like a kick-ass Thanksgiving.

Of course, I have to do things like surf submission calls during my writing breaks, and inevitably pick up new short stories that I simply must write.  I’ve come to accept the fact that I am a short story whore.  I just love ’em.  They are permission to try something new, without all the time commitment.  A little taste of the dark chocolate you love, minus the hours and hours on the treadmill making up for it. 

Well, I did finish one fun short today (involving prison sex–see I wouldn’t marry it, but it was fun for a one night stand) and I have another one started (gay virgin vampires with a twist).  I am going to hammer a stake in that one tonight while my hubby is out partying with friends.  Then nothing (besides polishing up a synopsis and final edits on my last novel and editing those two shorts) will keep me from writing some hot man romance.  I swear Gio, Lance, and Kyrie, I’ll get back to you guys soon!

I will not look at submission calls.  I will not look at submission calls.  I will not look at submission calls.

*Sigh.*  I’ll get there.  Baby steps.

-Kimber


My Guest Blog @ Joyfully Jay’s!

That’s right!  I blogged elsewhere today like the blogging tramp I am!  And I loved every freakin’ second of it, baby!

Joyfully Jay was kind enough to host me.  Check it out.  I talk about men with tattoos, give some insights into my new release, “Bound by Ink” in the “Written in Flesh” anthology from Storm Moon Press, and even leave ya’ll with a spicy excerpt.

Oh, and when I was done, I swallowed [wink].


“Written in Flesh” has a Cover!

Includes my M/M erotic fantasy novelette “Bound by Ink.”

This beauty is due out September 14, 2012 from Storm Moon Press.  The collection includes tales of tasty tattooed men and the guys that fall for them.  Should be inkalicious.

On another note, I finally got a website up and running for www.kimbervale.com (I know, catchy domain name, right?) so check it out once in a while if you are so inclined.  I posted an erotic heterosexual short called “Kept After School” over there for fun.  Give it a read if you never caught it on Oysters & Chocolate.

And lastly, our Cowboy Lust blog tour has ended (sniff)!  Winners have been selected and will be contacted via e-mail within the next few days.  Thanks to everyone who stopped by, commented, and read bits of our hot cowboy contributions.  It was a smokin’ hoedown!

-Kimber

Related Articles:

http://alinaray.wordpress.com/2012/08/29/written-in-flesh/

http://suzannevanrooyen.com/2012/07/05/written-in-flesh-anthology/


A Vacation From My Vacation

Well, here I am, post vacation and recovering.  I’m staring down the barrel of a long weekend with my hubby home, and a final (thank God) week of summer “vacation.”  It isn’t my vacation.  Neither was the six days we spent in Maine last week my vacation.

Luckily, my in-laws, who were scheduled to visit this weekend, cancelled.  And my mom, who had spent the week in Maine with us, has gone home (and I’ll wager she is beyond happy to be there).

Anyway, here is a quick recap of our vacation:

The trip to and from is always painful; hours in a car with a bad back are a bitch, and my hubby’s driving…well, I’ll take the high road here and just say that it isn’t to my liking.

We get there, and right away I turn on my computer.  Sure, I knocked out a good chunk of words on my M/M novel, but now I want internet; namely You Tube to feed my music addiction.  The kids had watched movies in the car and my mom was in the front seat while I was sandwiched between two boys repeating “personal space!” and “hands to yourselves!” so the radio was off the entire ride.

That’s a long time for me.  I like my music.  So, while I am making three beds and unpacking, I want some tunes.  We’ve been to this cabin for 4 years now, and there has always been a network connection from a restaurant up the street.  Well, lo and behold, there is no longer any available WiFi.

A walk up the road in which I had my computer and stood outside said restaurant resulted in no better signal.  That was later in the week, by the way.  I didn’t immediately trek out looking for internet.  I’m not that psycho.

So, I huff and puff, and so begins the crappiest writer’s retreat in the history of the written word.  Actually, I managed to finish said novel while I was there, cranking out about 5K words, but let me not recommend a writer’s retreat involving 3 little kids, a mother who loves to talk about politics, and a husband with zero tolerance for little kids.  It’s almost as distracting as an internet connection.

Anyway, on our first day there we must go to the beach.  My hubby very astutely removes our daughter’s glasses (2 month-old, $300 glasses that replaced a snapped in-half pair that cost even more) and he walked them to the spot where my mom and kid #2 were playing in the sand.

English: a beach in maine on a clear day with ...

English: a beach in maine on a clear day with a sailboat (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He hung them on the side of my mom’s purse without telling her about it.

We play and splash and eventually walk down the long beach to the rocks on the end to look for stinky sea stuff.  My mom notices a pair of glasses that fall from her purse onto the rocks and picks them up.  When we get back to the cabin (2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, cute, tiny sardine can we call temporary home) she notices that the lens is missing from the glasses.

I rant and rave and, in all likelihood, swear in front of kids.  The oldest proceeds to squint at the TV for the duration of the week.  Some lucky bastard will eventually find a sweet piece of optical sea glass.

Fast forward through days of beach in the morning, whining 5-year-old ALL THE TIME, a walk to whatever destination gets us out of that freakin’ house each afternoon, hand washing dishes, no A/C, still no wireless, sand EVERYWHERE, hand washing clothes in the sink and hanging it out on a line, six people, one bathroom, soggy bed for my already hurtin’ back.

A clock radio with crappy reception is my only glimmer of happiness until day five.  Then came the miracle of the salt water taffy.

We had purchased a box of Goldenrod Kisses on day 4.  It’s the fancy taffy they pull on a fancy machine right in front of the fancy store window.  Now, in the past, I would buy a box of taffy from a random convenience store as an afterthought.  “Oh, we’re in Maine.  I should buy this horrible candy.” You know what I’m talking about.

San Francisco Salt Water Taffy from Pier 39:

San Francisco Salt Water Taffy from Pier 39: (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So, I thought I was stepping it up a notch by buying the fancy shit.  Anyway, we get back to the cabin eventually, and I try one piece (okay, maybe 2) and then I swear it off.  It is by far the hardest taffy I have ever experienced.  Think of those Mary Jane candies you used to hate at Halloween, but ate anyway when all the other candy was gone, only like they were in the freezer first.

The kids are all over them, but none of them have dental work to pull out, so I let it go.  I’m all about maintaining the peace for my week in hell paradise.

Anyway, next day, hubby takes one chomp of a taffy and pulls out a golden crown.  They aren’t called Goldenrod Kisses for nothin’.  I apologize and commiserate and secretly celebrate because it is my ticket to freedom.  We are out of there a day early to make some doctor appointments.  I left the box of taffy with a handwritten warning complete with “Enjoy!” for the next suckers guests.

Thank you, Maine.  It’s been real.  It’s been fun.  But it hasn’t ever been real fun.

Next family vacation will be a three-day weekend (max), at a new venue, with highfalutin amenities.  That’s about all the family time and roughin’ it I can manage.

-Kimber


Doing Your Own Erotica Research or Which Way to the Experimental Sex Library?

Here I am researching for a certain sex scene I need to get cracking on.  I dig the idea, I’m just a little shy in the practical experience.  So, I do what anyone would do–I Google.  It’s not like I can go to the library and ask my friendly librarian for direction on a good book that answers the age-old question, “Would tequila on someone’s cock and balls hurt?”

So, Answers.com pops up with a promising lead (by promising I mean, it promises to be funny).

“Does rubbing boiling tequila on your penis make it grow?”  Some poor soul wants to know.

There is only one answer: “I haven’t tried this yet but maybe. The alcohol in the tequila might make blood flow faster and so give you a bigger erection. Try it”

Go ahead!  Try it!  Boil some tequila and pour it on your most sensitive body part!  You know, the one you need for both urination and procreation?  Just give it the old college try!

Sometimes that’s the only way to find the answers to the questions we seek.  Sometimes, Answers.com, Oh Wise Buddha of Endless Knowledge that it is–sometimes even it doesn’t have all the answers.

Now this blog post–http://justanotherboozeblog.blogspot.com/2009/07/5-worst-liquors-to-put-on-your-penis.html–superficially appeared to be what I was looking for.  It is a list of the top five worst liquors to put on your penis.  Good, right?  Tequila is number one.  Looks like I need a new idea.  Only problem is, the author does not seem to have actually tried it.  He’s surmising.  He jokes about dipping balls in a wide-mouthed glass, too, which isn’t precisely what I had in mind, but I must say, I like the way Snrub thinks.  Interestingly enough, he also says that it’s okay to drink it off of a woman’s body.

Hmmm.  I’m not writing it off just yet.  I’m also not writing it just yet.

Finally, I stumbled upon this very cringe-worthy compilation of the worst masturbation ideas ever.  I do so love the internet.  There are some damn creative (and stupid) people out there!  I made it about halfway through and had to take a break.  Too many ER visits for genitalia-related injuries were killing my sexy muse.  But, in case you are wondering: http://www.collegeslackers.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=11097

Read it and weep.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is, I’ll be setting up a laboratory in my basement for sexual experimentation.  I’ll require volunteers.  Perks include all the tequila you can drink off your own body and enough cat hair from my dungeon cat to knit an itchy white sweater-vest.

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