Tag Archives: Smurf

The First Semiannual Search Terms Review

Raise your hand if you have a blog.  Now keep it in the air if you love to look at the search terms that landed people on said blog.  Wave it back and forth over your head à la that annoying geek in trig class if someone has ever Googled “Smurf Fetish” and ended up on your blog.

My hand is waving like a smoker watching Poison do “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” during a 1988 concert.  Don’t worry if yours is not–I didn’t say Simon Says, anyway.

One of my favorite things to do when checking out my blog stats, is to see what crazy searches resulted in people stopping by my little online hole-in-the-wall.

And speaking of holes in the walls, yes, the phrase “glory hole Coachella” resulted in a visit to my humble site not too long ago.  Oh, to be a fly on that wall.  I bet there were many.

Some of these search terms thrill me to death in a twisted sort of way–such searches as, “Why is necrophilia seen as so wrong?” and “Erotic Horror Stranglings,” for instance.  “Beast necrophilia” and “necrophilia how?” give me a moment of pause, as does “Strangling Woman in boots.”  Just things that make you go hmmm…

And then there are the ones that leave me downright confounded, like “hemero wizard of oz,” and “men anal blow jobs how to give.”  Hemero means day, so is there a national Wizard of Oz Day I’m unaware of?  Not that it’s a bad idea.  I mean, if it comes down to a vote, I say yea.  I’m dying to see a horse of a different color and to try to get a five-finger-discount on a new broom stick.  Incidentally, if anyone out there knows how to give men anal blow jobs, I’d appreciate a diagram just in case I’m missing something.

I’m always looking for new acts to add to my repertoire.

“I love sex” and “cock lust” searches tickle me pink and warm the subcockles of my heart.  And I want to meet the person who Bings “Watch sextraterrestrials porn.”  I think we’d get along just smurfily.  I’ll even bring the popcorn, but also a blanket because I don’t want to sit directly on your couch for our movie night.  Sorry.  It’s not you, it’s me.

Other searches, unfortunately, leave me feeling inadequate.  I mean, when someone looks for “Matthew Bomer Erotica,” and my site doesn’t deliver, I feel like I’m letting my readers down.  Oddly, nearly every piece of erotica I write lately seems to have a guy who looks just like Matthew Bomer, but I’ve never flat-out said so on my blog before.  Weird.

And regarding making most of my studs clones of The Bomer, who can blame me?  He’s delicious.  Anyway, I am now on an intense search for Bomer erotic fan-fiction.  I do this for my followers and, well, let’s just say I feel obligated to hunt some down and preview it multiple times.

When I saw that a gentle reader searched high and low for “How big is Anthony Kiedis‘ penis?” I was heartbroken to know that I had disappointed him or her.  Until I can get Anthony’s digits (and believe me, I will try), might I suggest checking out the old-school sock performance, just to get a rough idea?

And then there was “the twilight saga film series awards” search, to which I politely say, “WTF????”

Finally, I leave you with the question “What movies Vale Kimber star in?”  I can only surmise that someone else surmises I’m a porn star.  Aficionado, maybe.  Fan?  Certainly.  But, the closest I ever came to making a sex movie was contemplating stripping in college.  And possibly some nonconsensual photos during a drunken screw of the same era.  And maybe the security camera that always seemed to be trained outside my dorm room window picked up something I was never mailed a copy of.

I pulled my blinds most of the time, I swear.

But anyway, no.  As much fun as it probably would be to reign as porn queen, I’m afraid I cannot accept this award.  But to all of my fans out there, I say thanks for your support!  I couldn’t be where I am right now without you!

Or maybe I could…

Where the hell am I, anyway?  Hey, who’s that man behind the curtain?!  Please excuse me.  I’m off to go grab his broomstick and possibly give him an anal blow job.


Top Ten Reasons Why I Love Alien Sex

Or more accurately, I love writing alien sex.  I might love getting otherworldly snoo-snoo, but so far the opportunity hasn’t presented its bright red orangutan ass.  If you see any aliens, send them my way, and I can make an informed decision.

Lately, I’ve been balls-deep into writing alien erotica.  Not reading it, so much; although, I have enjoyed perusing it in the past.  Actually, I just discovered how sizzlin’ hot male/male erotica is, and I think I have a new past-time as a result…but that is another post.  Back to the aliens.

“Why, Kimber?  Why aliens, when there are plenty of sexy men right here on earth,” you ask?  Welllllll, allow me to blast you with my stun-gun of logic…Bend over.

1.  My number one reason is that I can come up with a bonus word for the male genitalia.  Don’t get me wrong, I love me some cock.  I bet if I searched for “cock” in my current 40,000 word WIP it would beat out “the” for most-used word.  Dick is okay.  Pole; good.  Rod; better.  Meat stick; only for special occasions.  Penis; gag me with one.  I rarely, if ever, use it.  Just too clinical.  You won’t catch me throwing a vulva in there either.  Nothing sexy about those words, in my opinion.  But if your space man calls it a xord on his planet, you get another word to use in your sex scenes.  And believe me, an extra word comes in mighty handy when the damn thing keeps popping out of his space pants.

My xord wants you.

Tell me that doesn’t sound a million times hotter than the same sentence only with the “P” word.

2.  Earth Girls Are Easy.  Or maybe they are delightfully plumper than the skinny bitches on Planet Z.  Maybe cooler, with their pink mohawks and tattoos.  Maybe their Earth Girl accents just make his xord want to come out and play in a way he’s never sexperienced before.  Whatever–aliens love us because we are a flava totally different from the PB&J they are eating at home.  We are freakin’ Filet Mignon.

3.  Aliens can look like ANYTHING I want them to.  I think it–they are it.  If you’ve got one of those freaky Smurf fetishes I’ve heard about twice now in the past week (“Where the hell are you surfing, Kimber???”  That is another post once again, but the water is just fine, let me tell ya), well then, blue aliens it is, you twisted little kinkster, you!  You want a 1980 Arnold Swarzenegger body with a 1980 Mel Gibson face?  Done (and done).  The universe is your oyster, baby!  Make that clam clammy however you can.  So long as they don’t sparkle, it’s all gravy.

4.  Spaceships are fuckin’ hot.  You like a big fictional stud on a motorcycle, done up in leather?  Then how does a space motorcycle shake your coconuts?  And space leather, whatever that is?  Let your imagination run wild, you crazy monkey!  Schhhhwwinngg.

5.  Maybe the real aliens can actually download Amazon books with their fancy WiFi bending satellites.  Kinda like that 80’s movie where the aliens liked watching old “I Love Lucy” reruns.  Real aliens could be my largest readership demographic.  They’d be looking down the front of their E.T. pj’s at their tiny schlorts and saying, “Can you believe how huge earthlings think our xords are?  I love this chick!”

6.  They can get off in any color.  Even sparkles.

7.  They’re aliens.  They can’t knock up the earth girls, so no need for the awkward condom fumble before the hanky-panky.  And then, of course, it turns out that they do knock up the girl because in some intergalactic freak of nature, our genetic material is unthinkably compatible.  That’s a given.

8.  That movie “Paul.”  Even that little guy was hot in his own I-don’t-give-a-fuck way.  And he could totally dance.  As long as he has Seth Rogen’s voice, I’d hit that and make him talk dirty to me the whole time.  Probably wouldn’t take too long, either.

9.  SUPER POWERS!!!  We all want ’em.  We all get hot for the guy (or girl) that has ’em.  They kick ass, and the options are only limited by your imagination.  Don’t think that aliens with super powers are believable?  Well Super Man just punched your face for that, but the man in tights aside, I challenge you to find me an alien who can’t grow a second schlong when the tune to “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush” is hummed in his ooveet.  For those that think ooveet is his asshole, get your mind out of the gutter.  It’s a freakin’ ear.  Even more difficult, I dare you to produce a sextraterrestrial that canNOT give perfect, toe-curling, real chow even on his maiden voyage to Vulva Land.  It’s impossible–because aliens are just that good.

Don’t defy me.

10.  Mork.  ‘Nuff said.

So, there you have it.  Now go out there and write some alien porn if you are so inspired.  Just don’t steal my monkey-leather-wearing, space-chopper-ridin’ Cousin Arnold idea.  That crap is copyrighted as of this posting.  Sorry.


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