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I
am a 25-year-old SWM who lives in a large apartment complex.
Over the past several months, the woman who lives upstairs
from me has fallen into the habit of coming downstairs once
or twice a week and giving me a blowjob. She seems fairly
normal, and is about 10 years older than me. She doesn’t want
to go out on dates and she doesn’t expect me to reciprocate.
We don’t even really talk that much.
I know the idea of having a blowjob twice a week with no strings
attached is every guy’s dream, but I can’t help but wonder
what is up with this. What is her motivation? Should I be
worried, or should I just not look a gift mouth in the mouth?
—Satisfied
But Nervous
You
sound like a nice guy, SBN. But you know what? Nice guys,
as a general rule, don’t “fall into the habit” of putting
their cocks into the mouths of people they can’t make small
talk with.
Look, even if you’re only having a just-head-thanks relationship
with your neighbor, it’s still a relationship. If you’re wondering
what’s up with your neighbor, if you want to know what she’s
getting out of this, if you’re worried, then have the balls
and the decency to ask her what’s up. There’s nothing about
NSA arrangements that prevents a person from being considerate.
I’m not suggesting that you draw her into a long, involved
conversation about her feelings or your relationship. It doesn’t
sound like she’s particularly interested in that kind of a
conversation. But you can check in with her. Try saying something
like, “Gee whiz, I want you to know how grateful I am for
all the amazing head. I also want to make sure that you’re
okay and that I’m not exploiting you. It would help put me
at ease if you told me what you’re getting out of this.”
What will she say in response? Maybe she’ll tell you that
sexually servicing a younger man has always been her ultimate
fantasy or that there’s something about your come that just
makes her happy. If you hear anything along those lines, SBN,
then everything’s cool and you can go back to being serviced
with a clear conscience. But if she’s sucking you off twice
a week because it’s the only thing that seems to quiet the
voices in her head—voices that may be telling her to bite
some dude’s dick off—wouldn’t you like to know that?
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I’m a sexually adventurous guy but I had an uncomfortable
reaction to your advice for TRADE, the guy who wants to be
a hustler for day. To be more specific, it was with the pimp
part. Most prostitutes would probably tell you that pimps
are violent, vicious, brutal, dehumanizing motherfuckers.
Many a woman (and man) has ended up dead at the hands of a
pimp. I would really leave that part out of the fantasy. It’s
creepy, like saying, “Hey, then you can pretend your pimp
is dismembering you and putting you in plastic bags,” or,
“Then have your fantasy pimp hit you so hard on the side of
the head that you’re blind in one eye.” Pimping is a shitty,
shitty thing to do and this guy’s fantasy is better off without
it.
—Mark
In Astoria
Real
pimps are often violent, maladjusted parasites who abuse and
terrorize prostitutes. No argument there. But I didn’t suggest
that TRADE go and find himself a real pimp, MIA. I advised
him to find a friend willing to play the pimp and make all
the arrangements necessary for TRADE to realize his hustler
fantasies.
Sorry, MIA, but I can’t let you declare fantasies about real-life
motherfuckers as somehow out of bounds. Where would ruling
out fantasy versions of violent, vicious, brutal, and dehumanizing
motherfuckers leave, say, people into BDSM? Real people who
own/owned real slaves are/were violent, vicious, brutal, etc.,
as are real rapists, real prison guards, real Republicans,
and on and on. In our fantasy lives we’re free to pretend
to own or be slaves, rape or be raped, pimp or be pimped,
imprison or be imprisoned, gut Social Security or protect
it, and on and on. PC simply doesn’t apply to fantasy role-playing
scenarios.
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You must be aware of the activities of Senate Majority
Leader Bill Frist. When he’s not spreading disinformation
about HIV transmission, misdiagnosing Terry Schiavo after
watching four-year-old videotape, or speaking at some fundamentalist
Christian conclave where “activist” judges are being compared
to terrorists, he’s threatening to rewrite Senate rules to
ram through the latest Clarence Thomas clones. I think Dr.
Bill deserves a santorum-style moniker. Why don’t you challenge
your readers to come up with an appropriate unmentionable
sex act incorporating his name, but this time make it a verb.
To frist, getting fristed, into fristing . . .
I think there’s potential here!
—Bonnie
In San Diego
Whenever
a religious conservative says something stupid in public—and
we can mark the quarter hour by their idiotic statements these
days—readers urge me to give ’em the santorum treatment. Recent
nominees include Antonin Scalia, James Dobson, Gary Bauer,
Tom DeLay, Marilyn Musgrave, Bill Gates, and Joseph Ratzinger.
People! I can’t name a sex act after every idiot member of
the American Taliban or new pope who comes along! First off,
lightning is unlikely to strike twice. The definition of santorum
that my readers whipped up (“that frothy mix of lube and fecal
matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex”) is a
little smear of perfection. Not only did it forever link Sen.
Rick Santorum to anal sex, one of his obsessions, but the
substance itself is unwelcome and revolting, much like the
senator himself. Can we top Santorum/santorum? I doubt it.
What’s more, there are more American Taliban running around
than there are disgusting sex acts or byproducts in need of
monikers. We would quickly run out of disgusting sex acts
and byproducts and then be forced to name pleasurable sex
acts after members of the American Taliban. I don’t know about
you, BISD, but I don’t ever want to hear my boyfriend say,
“Stick your dobson in my scalia, big bauer, and musgrave the
gates out of me until I ratzinger.” Could any man maintain
an erection after hearing that?
And as for Bill Frist, yeah, he’s a freakin’ asswipe. But
any attempt to attach his name to a sex act will only confuse
people. If you tell someone you’re into “fristing” they’re
going to think you’re a fist-fucker with a speech impediment.
And, really, Bill Frist doesn’t need my help ruining his good
name. He’s doing a good job of that all by himself.
Hey, Readers: Looking for a Mother’s Day gift? Don’t want
to pour money into the already deep pockets of a bunch of
sodomite florists? Last year’s pot brownies didn’t go over
as well as you hoped? My mother and I both enjoyed Ann
Landers in Her Own Words: Personal Letters to Her Daughter,
by Margo “Dear Prudence” Howard. I’m an Ann Landers fan—I
am, as always, writing these words sitting behind the desk
Landers wrote her own column at for 40 years—and Ann’s letters
to Margo are hilarious and touching.
mail@savagelove.net
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