VodkaPundit doesn’t mince words. He likes sex:

And not just doing it, either. I like pretty pictures of pretty girls in (and out of) pretty clothes. I like the little whiff of sex you get from perfectly innocent flirtation. I like teasing emails from my bride. I like songs about sex. I like getting reminded of sex I’ll never have again, when I walk past the counter of some long-forgotten perfume at the department store. Even better, I like the promise of the sex I’ll be having later this week, when I walk by the counter that sells Melissa’s perfume. I like those random sex thoughts that pop into my head when I’m trying to get some work done.

I like sex as a married man, and I liked sex with women whose last names I wasn’t entirely clear on, and I liked all the sex in-between. I like to make love, and sometimes I just like to fuck. I like sex jokes and sex talk and sex sex sex sex sex sex sex.

And I love women. Girls. Babes. Broads, chicks, skirts, fillies, whatever. I’m a leg man, an ass man, and a breast man. I love that line that runs from just behind her earlobe to just off the center of her collarbone. I love the small of her back and the inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. Ankles, backs of knees, insides of thighs. Short hair, long hair, curly hair, or straight. The little hairs on her arms that stand up when you touch her just right. And the scents! There’s not a place a clean woman doesn’t smell good (and a healthy, sweaty woman doesn’t smell better) and no two places on no two women smell quite the same. Or even on the same woman. Variety is the spice of life, and endless variety can be found in just one person if you know how to look.

Preach it, Brother Stephen!