Monthly Archives: August 2012

One Mail Box and A Flying Pussy


The following text works as a standalone episode but if you want, you can read the first part of this very sexy story here.

Bozo had decided to look for the place where his penis would stand. It was a missing piece from the jigsaw puzzle of the universe. Where does it fit? Where does it integrate? Oh, oh he must know!

It was thus that Bozo set out from his house one fine morning. The mail box outside his door reddened considerably upon perceiving his enthusiasm. Bozo glanced at the mail box and thought it was only fair he should give it a try. Bozo was a clown of simple means, rather inclined towards the methodology of trial-and-error in such matters. He launched his penis inside the mail box. The mail box was dumbfounded, and let out an uncertain giggle. Bozo withdrew his penis. Too small for this part of the puzzle, he said to himself and moved on.

It is the law of nature that wherever there is space, there must be matter to fill it up. And Bozo had set out to find his space among all the spaces of the world.

It was while he was thus walking that Bozo encountered The Flying Pussy. It had white feathered wings and looked somewhat spacious.

“Ah, a pussy with wings!” Bozo exclaimed. “I must try this one.”

“Hey, will you please help me with my puzzle hunt?” Bozo asked of the Pussy.

“Okay…” The Pussy didn’t think much of Bozo but agreed to help him, for it had nothing better to do. Plus it saw no reason to deny Bozo anything much especially when Bozo had asked for it so politely.

So Bozo thrust his dicky bird into the Pussy. The bird chirped. But the bird soon suffocated and died.

“Not enough space,” Bozo said.

“Aw, never mind. Better luck next time.” The pussy smiled at Bozo and went on its way.

Years later whenever Bozo would relate his encounter with The Flying Pussy, people would roar themselves hoarse with laughter. “How undignifiededly slutty!” The men and women would jeer, and some would say,”Poor Pussy! What injustice to be used and violated in this way!” Bozo would sometimes join them in their emotions, but often, he was confused about the source of their indignance at the Pussy.

The Flying Pussy thus acquired quite a reputation and some sympathies for not being perfectly aghast at Bozo’s straightforward politesse. Men and women seemed to find The Flying Pussy tale too entertaining to stop talking about it–so they never did. This fact disappointed and tickled The Flying Pussy when it came to learn of it.

“Ah well,” it said and smiled a sweet pussy smile at their reverence for sex.

…to be continued


More On Kissing


…this time from the expert

A woman and a man came to Nasruddin one day.

The woman complained, “I was just walking on the street the other day, when this man, who I have never seen before, came up to me and kissed me! I demand justice!”

“I agree that you deserve justice,” Nasruddin said. “Therefore I order that you kiss him back and take your revenge.”

Oh honor, ho honor

Thou baffling maiden!

Sticks and stones to break my bones

But so are kisses with depravity laden–

Neither scrupulous hate nor indiscriminate love

Will your sacred form accept

You mark your boundaries sharp

Like my poodle dog pissets.

Mr. Nice


“Hello! Meet Mr. Nice. I am Mr. Nice.”

“Hey there Mr. Nice.”

“Hello hello dear! Care for a rumpy pumpy in the sack?”


“Lah lah lah! Let the rumpy pumpy begin! Here’s the sack! And you should know I’m really nice, so I will ask you. ASK YOU whether you want me to do something or not.”

“Um okay.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”


Kiss kiss.

“Do you want me to grab your hair in a fit of passion?”

“Do YOU want to?”

“What I want doesn’t matter! Do YOU want to?”


“You should know for sure, you know. Informed customers are get their goods and I look to satisfy MY customer!”


“Do you want me to slobber all over your neck?”

“What’s this? A sex service company? Why do you have to ASK?! Do it if you want to, don’t if you don’t!”

“But I am Mr. Nice! I always seek consent! ALWAYS!”


“I understand how important it is to your dignity as a woman.”


“The body is sacred. The slightest violation and poof! Haven’t you heard of rape laws?”

A feminist somewhere was subsequently swallowed by an Echidna.

Rules of Sex


“Baby, I read today in uh…somewhere, that good communication is the number one rule of sex.”

“Rule of sex?! Rule of sex?!”

“Yea baby, so I have prepared a questionnaire which I will be asking you everytime we initiate the sexual procedure.”

“Wow. Aren’t you a lark!”

“Rule #2 says I must always act to please you.”

“Woohoo! An inventory. A real inventory!”

“Yeah, isn’t that great, baby? All the Dos and Don’ts of sex together in one book!”

“Does it also mention that you must address me as ‘baby’?”

“Well, they provide a number of options to choose from, “love”, “darling”, “sweetie”. “Baby” features on Rule 36. Works even though we have talked only half a sentence. It is a hotword.”

“A hotword?”

“Well, the rule is that hearing it should turn you on.”

Hydra. Turned into. Swallowed. Spat out.

“This book…jolly well works!” He croaked on the advert.

With Ethical Issues


His eyes blew round as she took off her shirt. What’s underneath a woman’s shirt is her body but going by the number of eyes it blows round, you’d think it’s a gold mine.

Anyhow, so this chappie’s eyes blew as round as they would if a pirate had found an X marked on the sea waters. She was a bit used to this, so she tried not to notice.

“So um, can I touch it?” He asked her carefully.

No you dolt, she thought to herself. I’m just an artist’s model, and that’s why I’ve let go off my clothes after coming home with you, kissing you several times on the balcony and flirting with you all evening.

“Uh, okay.” She said playing the game even though he was already beginning to disgust her with his useless questions.

There thus ensued some touching. A while later though, another pop survey.

“So can I suck on it?”

Wow, she thought. Wow. Is he really ASKING me that? Because he sure didn’t ask me if I wanted to listen to his crap about watermelon varieties all evening. Perhaps the head things don’t matter. Perhaps my silly boobies are more sacred than my mind, on which I’d to suffer so much assault on this date. So perhaps THIS is an important question. Perhaps I should weigh its pros and cons before answering it.

Thus the weighment of pros and cons ensued…

“Whyre you sleeping with him if he is so silly?”
“I dunno, I thought it might cheer me up in the cheery way sex has a tendency to cheer up people after the most boring evening of decades.”
“Well it isn’t working right?”
“Doesn’t look like. Looks like I’m talking to myself instead of fucking him.”
“Stop it then…”
“I dunno, I still have some hope?…”
“Well then either you’re Voltaire’s Candide, or you’re a slut.”
“Hmm am I a slut?”

“Hello is something wrong?” THE MAN had spoken.

“Hello human,” she said as she turned into her true form: A Hydra with a thousand tentacles on her head waving about most ominously. Wild, evil laughter broke out as she to swallow him whole, with her slimy, uncouth mouth out of which twenty million snakes spurted out each second. And he tasted so awfully bad, she shitted him out as soon as possible.

“Kind of a rum woman,” he told his friends the next night. “Wonderful sex drive but would suddenly freeze.”

“Ah, a slut with ethical issues.” His friends nodded wisely.

Spin, Spin, Spin, M’lady!


She skipped three long skips and jumped as she neared where he was standing so that her lips triggered the production of adrenaliney glue which glued them to his. This went for a while till the earth was spinning very very fast and they knew it only because they realised they were no longer held by gravity.

Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, Rolly had said as he had activated the motors, so that she was spinning all around him with glue providing the relevant centripetal force. The rotor of a helicopter was thusly discovered as physicists cheered. Some feminists had had a problem with this, but whoever listens to them? Soon the rotational motion had started building up a momentum, which made them spin faster and faster faster till they were seventeen inches above the floor. Together they rose farther and farther- even as she spinned around him- further and further above through the ceiling, through the neighbour’s floor, through the hole in ozone layer, and far far away into outer space. And they kept spinning till they had birthed twenty million more galaxies. When galaxies are so spun, God is happy in His Heaven, and all’s right with the world.

They woke up hot and dizzy… back on earth, with numerous cuts and bruises. The world here was sharp.