The Twisted Monk has an entertaining guide for ladies, on the complexities of arranging for two guys (at the same time) to fulfill her. He covers all the bases, from the difficulty of finding two guys willing to be that close to each other, to issues of tempo and angles of entry, to … did I mention the issue of finding two guys willing to have their cocks almost touching inside a woman? The Monk has it covered.

It was not-so-subtly pointed out to me yesterday that I’ve been featuring more of the “outie” flavor than the “innie” flavor. Well, duh! I like outies more than innies; and Bacchus invited me here in large part because of the success of National Penis Month and his disinterest in searching for penis pix on a regular basis.

But, the customer is always right (nevermind that y’all aren’t paying customers ;) ), so for all those who like the innie flavor better (or who just want a change of pace), I present:

Whew! Found over at the Sensual Liberation Army.

So The Nymph and I were driving along yet another secondary road, when a sign caught my eye: “The New Mexico Girls Ranch.”

Of course my mind fills immediately with inappropriate images. Herds of young ladies drifting through the sagebrush unencumbered by clothing, cowboys on horses, plenty of lariats and quirts to go around, that sort of thing. Sez me: “Gee, I wonder what a fellow has to do to get invited to the roundup?”

With a name like Da Goddess, y’all knew it was just a matter of time before I checked her out. Sure enough, when I did I discovered that she’s also a goddess of fine taste. To wit, her commentary on men’s heads:

Some of the sexiest men I know have very little hair, if they have hair at all.

Sing it, sister! Just as Bacchus expounds on many women’s discomfort with their varying smells, I simply don’t understand why so many men seem to think hair is sexier than bald. And all that crazy stuff some of them do to try to disguise the obvious … that’s even worse.

I dated a young, balding guy for awhile, and one of the sexiest things about him (in addition to his mostly-smooth top) was the self-confidence he displayed, in going against the Rogaine, hair-plug, hair-paint crowd that insinuates that a guy has to have hair to be sexy. He was hot!

Now maybe I can find a sexy shot of a bald guy to close the week on…meantime, you can go read Da Goddess’s mini-rant on men’s heads. Pretty site, too. :D

Okay, so I’m still getting caught up on stuff here. But a recent story at Sweetness Follows captures pretty completely why I’m bumming about not having somebody to play with:

Today was one of those days. Mike secretly set the alarm half an hour earlier than usual, so we started our day with some very gentle, but very intense, lovemaking.

The whole entry is short, but sweet indeed.

Bacchus said that he was leaving you dear readers in my capable hands. Trouble is, he didn’t say what they’re capable of.

I’ve been sick, and I’ve been bummed–that’s why I haven’t brought my hands around here for awhile. I’m bummed because both contenders have been scared off–at least, that seems to be what’s going on. Turns out one was married, and when I said I didn’t have any problem with that, as long as we weren’t going to be keeping secrets and playing games, he vanished. Contender Number 1 hasn’t exactly said bye-bye, but as we got closer he started making comments about the difference in our ages…I think that squicked him more than he wants to admit. I’ll be surprised if I hear from him again.

So, it’s a good thing I put out that request for product information when I did. Maybe my “capable hands” can handle one of them without losing it. (And many thanks to all who’ve chipped in with an opinion!)

Rather than leaving on a depressing note (I’ll get over being bummed soon enough), this poem by Katriana is quite nice, and gets me warm in a lovely way. Hope y’all enjoy it too.

So the Nymph and I are taking a shortcut through the Nevada desert, when we pass the gates of a huge mine complex. About a mile away we come upon a business at the side of the road. Large complex of ratty trailers, no obvious doorway or front entrance — and of course we are passing at 80 MPH so we don’t get a good look. But there’s a huge faded plywood billboard featuring two teddy bears hugging.

Squealed The Nymph: “Oooh! Teddy bears!”

Meanwhile I’m reading aloud the words on the sign: “The Affection Connection….”

The Nymph: “What kind of store is that, way out here?”

Me: “Rural Nevada where prostitution is legal, ratty trailers, hundreds of well-paid horny mine workers — Baby, I don’t think they are selling teddy bears.”

I swear, she didn’t stop blushing for at least sixty miles. I did offer to take us back and ask if they had a gift shop, but she wasn’t interested for some odd reason….