Tag Archives: sex

The Final Cause

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“The final cause, and heed this worthy scholars!” Aristotle proclaimed to a crowd of heeding  worthy scholars, “is what imparts meaning to sex. The merry dance of sex is ridiculous, pointless and mark ye, foul misused and corrupt! if it is not directed to fulfill the final cause, gentlemen!”

The crowd of heeding worthy scholars nodded in sympathy.

“And I ask you, you unsexed swine, what may be the final cause herein? Why was sex created and why oh why did nature enable its cloistered functioning? Only to procreate gentlemen, mark ye, only to procreate!”

It is of course a well known fact that Aristotle later died a virgin.

However three thousand years later, Bozo was accosted on the street on the following manner.

“Fucktard!” A voice shouted at him.

“You talking to me?” Bozo politely enquired of the voice.

“Of course I am. You are the one that sleeps with cacti aren’t you?”

“Oh you know me then!” Bozo smiled, all smiles. “But I am sorry to say that I haven’t had the pleasure of your aquaintance please?”

“Fucktard,” said the voice. “Servile! Blasphemous! I am …

“Ah, God?” Bozo said in some recognition.

“Of course not you fool! What do you think these are…the Dark Ages?! To think of…! I am Mother Nature!”

“By Jove!”

“Indeed. Indeed!”

“They always told me you were only made up.”

“Of course they would, wouldn’t they? The patriarchal fucktards!”

“Ah right. So um…’sup?”

“YOU are up! What are you doing! Why are you not working to fulfill my final cause!”

“Eh?”

“Cacti-human children you fool!”

“Oh right! Almost forgot!” Bozo apologised and shat the final cause. This cause was hailed by the scientific community as the final cause for the past three millenia and by real people as obscene and grotesque.

Mother Nature smiled.

Everywhere!

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“I’m SO hyper and sexy right NOW!!!” O screamed as her mouth split wide wider wider widest wide.

“How much? How much?!” The Finnish girl implored. The Finnish girl was drunk on whiskey. Whiskey whisks people and makes them happy.

And happy things are happy, don’t you agree?

“So much so that I could fuck everyone on the planet. Fuck them nicely. Fuck them hard. Fuck them quick. And fuck them rhythmically. And fuck them in the clouds!” O yelled in ecstacy.

The Finnish girl yawned. Finnish are cold people, it has been said. But this one had asparagus growing out of her pussy which O very much wanted to eat. O has weird tastes, it has been said.

“TOGETHER!!!” O added emphatically.

“Oh now, you are making sense!” Finnish woman finnished that sentence with a huge laugh and asparagus jumped everywhere.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” O let out a stream of fucks and it was all fucked and Finn-girl was fucked and everyone was fucked and it was AWESOME. Like AWESOME and AWESOME. because O couldnt stop typing. and fucking. and typing. and fucking. even though it made no sense whatsoever. But sex is kind of like that. That’s what makes it AWESOME.

And then there was loud crack CRACK! and a fuse in Finn woman exploded and she jumped up hard. Asparagus everywhere! Kids were aghast but went chomp chomp anyway because clowns were ecstatic and she zwooped right into the air and through the ceiling and into everywhere.

This is what’s SO good about sex! It’s EVERYWHERE!

Now let the happiness begin!

Cruel

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Bodies.

Hers was slippery. Smooth. Like fibre. Plastic?

Plastic doesn’t sound good when you use the word. It is supposed to denote fake and the distasteful. I liked her plastic body. Because in it there was no pretence. She did not try to be real. Her fakeness was erotic.

I rubbed my hand over her fins. Lightly at first. Feeling the water drip from it. Then hard, pressing against it. Feeling the smooth plastic produce friction against my hand. Heat. Warmth. I let my legs dangle in the water. Bare legs. She sensed my longing and moved closer. She was swimming upright. Like a buoy. And her mouth smiled. Cute, I thought. I rubbed my feet against her back. Hard. The water in between my feet and her back made a sound against the plastic. Elastic, plastic. I thought. She looked happy because her mouth curved. She nuzzled her nose in between my legs. I stroked her head. She let her tongue slide over my shorts. Over the crotch.

It was time, I thought. I jumped into the ocean. No one noticed. The boat moved on with the little islands which sailed it. I was sucked into a whirlpool with her. It was blue, very blue. Her tummy was soft and supple. Not plastic. I touched it rubbing . I think she laughed. A balalaika played somewhere. Drawing closer. Fast. With a noisy chirpy accordion. And jolly. Very jolly. The mood was festive. Several others circled around us and watched us dance. I was flying in the blue water. I kissed her on her mouth. Like an understanding mother, she drew her fins about me hugging me tight and I felt her tongue curling about mine.

The Penis Eaters of Khwa-ha

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Long, long ago, between the waters of Milde and Phon, there existed a slim strip of land called Khwa-ha. The people who inhabited this land were rich and prosperous. The yearly flooding of Khwa-ha provided them a finely fertile land every year where they grew rice, wheat, yam and vegetables of multiple variety to eat. However the people of Khwa-ha also had a peculiar culinary preference- which the obnoxiously elite of today’s modern society tend to deem gross- the Khwa-ha had a most notable weakness for penises.

This taste for penises was almost an obsession with the people of Khwa-ha to the extent that every Khwa-ha household had the penises of its male ancestors chopped off upon death and placed at the domestic altar for a week whereupon they were taken as sanctified blessing and cooked into a delicious meal in the kitchens. This meal was then partaken of by the Khwa-ha commune in beatific ecstasy, and commended as a symbol of extreme good taste.

The penis was not a mere bodily organ for the people of Khwa-ha, rather it held in itself immense proportions of divinity. Penises all around Khwa-ha were elevated to the position of the supremely sacred, as a result of which the people of Khwa-ha spent a lot of time thinking about penises, and their beauty of purpose. There would be days when the entire Khwa-ha community could think of nothing but penises. It has been documented that the Year of Wiener, sponsored by the Weiners, one of the oldest and most respectable families of Khwa-ha, was a particularly significant one in this respect. This year saw the capital town of Khwa-ha organise  49890 food festivals, 2379 musical concerts, 26457 conferences and seminars and 3981 incidences of self-immolation to honor the penis. The Year of Weiner also saw the installation of the first giant penis sculpture in the middle of the town square at Plo- which was soon replicated in several other cities and villages of Khwa-ha in subsequent years. A decade after this first installation, the Khwa-ha Ministry of Culture introduced a Bill in the legislature to make it compulsory for every town in Khwa-ha to install at least 200 and every Khwa-ha village to install at least 100 penis sculptures in an effort to promote art and culture, and additionally outlawed all restaurants, food joints and caterers which did not serve penises. (Sidenote: To stock the Khwa-ha kitchens with a steady supply of penises, the legislature decided to castrate all those who caused injuries to genitalia, which often resulted in mental trauma and shame for the owners of the violated genitals.) As a result, wherever the Khwa-haite stepped she was surrounded the most magnificent of penis selections. Consequently, the Khwa-ha mind and the thought of penis thus became as inseparable as well…two inseparable things. This marked the Classical Age of Khwa-ha history: the golden period of genteel breeding, sophistication and civilisation among Khwa-haites.

Tragedy however struck in the Year of The Great Flood when the great flood flooded Khwa-ha in a flash manouvre so that Khwa-ha was never to be seen again. The flood drowned all lands, destroyed the beautiful crops and most appallingly swept away all their penises. Causalities numbered in thousands, which was significant in reducing the tiny community of Khwa-ha to a tenth of its population. Mercifully, a few Khwa-haites managed to escape on boats to other firmer lands: north, south, east and west, to settle there. They intermarried with the local populations and it has been thus that their line has managed to survive among our world unto the present day.

It is notable that even upon migration to foreign lands, the people of Khwa-ha were proudly protective of their culture and ensured that Khwa-ha traditions were not forgotten in the flurry of movement. To a significant portion, this was fueled by the fact that such a lot of Khwa-haites strongly longed for the taste of penis in their new homes. However, the cultures of their adopted lands more often than  not, viewed penis communion with a perspective of disgust. So the Khwa-haites had to devise a new and a more subtle method to obtain their ration of penises.

Castration was an obvious need for the Khwa-haites for access to their daily dosage of penises; however in their new countries, castration was often severely punishable by law. But the Khwa-haites did manage to note that cases of rape and sexual violence were not less rampant here: what the people of Khwa-ha however found peculiar was that people treated injuries to the genitals with no more importance than they treated un-consented injuries to the other parts of the body. This equal treatment of something which was so sacred as the genitals was gross blasphemy to the migrants from Khwa-ha. To not view violence to genitals with absolute horror was horrifically appalling to them. This, coupled with their need for eating penises made the Khwa-ha immigrants launch a sublime yet  effective campaign to castrate all penises found guilty of sexual violence. Chemical castrations were further encouraged because it was deemed that nothing as sanctified as a penis should be subject to base instincts like a sexual drive, and a man’s brain should not be held responsible for the sins of such a tainted penis. Chemically castrated penis were viewed as the ideal penises, and were later cut off and communed with in solemn ceremonies of the Khwa-ha community. Such castration was justified in terms of trauma which the Khwa-ha mind supposed should rightly afflict the victim when her holy genitals are manipulated. This shrewd move on the part of Khwa-haites and their descendants has proved to be particularly effective, and is a fine example of the profound level of sophistication which interaction with the great Khwa-ha culture has imparted to contemporary society, and for which one is eternally grateful.

One Mail Box and A Flying Pussy

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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

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…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

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

“Hey there Mr. Nice.”

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

“Uh…sure?”

“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?”

“Er…okay?”

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?”

“Maybe?”

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

“Yuck!”

“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!”

“Huh?”

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

“Huh?”

“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.