From time to time I’ve heard someone say something hyperbolic like “He couldn’t pull that off with a dozen helpers, a photographer, and a whole team of Clydesdales!”

In this case, three of the assistants are evidently stage right holding the Clydesdales.

From time to time I can’t help revisiting Why Your Wife Won’t Have Sex With You (although I do it in the same spirit as a man goes to the racetrack to watch a demolition derby). The prevailing view over at Why Your Wife on this too-frequent lament of the modern American husband tends toward the “try acting more like a woman and she might … just might, so don’t get your hopes up … decide to have sex with you again someday” variety.

Like the flying squirrel said, “Aw, Bullwinkle, that trick never works.”

On the other hand, there’s a comment over in a “Sex And Marriage” post by Quiver. Quiver gives some potentially useful advice to a man in those unhappy sexless straits, only to have a commenter share a rather more robust strategy:

“If all else fails (or if you prefer, before trying anything else) put her over your knee and with one arm firmly around her waist to hold her in place, yank her knickers down and spank her bare bottom very hard until she howls. Then spank her vigorously again until she begs at the top of her voice to be allowed to spread her legs and offers her pussy (which will probably be glistening wet by now). Then allow her to service your cock in whichever way you please. A woman who has just been spanked often sucks exquisitely well, and on her knees doing it she can look deliciously beautiful, so that may be a good starting place.”

Kids, don’t try this at home. Enormous downside potential if it doesn’t work — complete with sirens and handcuffs and a well-deserved orange jumpsuit.

While visiting Making Light in connection with the last post, I was entertained by this anecdote about the sacrifices editors are sometimes called upon to make in pursuit of their craft:

Jim Frenkel was once approached at a convention by an attractive young lady, who said, approximately:

“Golly, Mr. Frenkel, I’d do anything to be a published author.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Then write me a good book.”

A long time ago I blogged this photograph of a phallic dessert attributed to those most clean-minded of people, the Mormons. The post has now drawn this denial:

“I am LDS and I find it appauling you incline we have food like that. We do not and I do not know where you get your information from.”

I don’t know which is more funny: the fact that a Mormon is reading a sex blog and condemning the food reporting, or the fact that that a sex-blog-reading Mormon can’t spell and doesn’t understand that the source of my information is right there in the post behind the little underlined words that link to … wait for it … where I get my information from.

Word comes that able porn publicist Carly has lined up the intrepid Cly Maxwell to conduct The Great American Rubber Pussy Challenge. Cly says:

I’m on a quest to become the world’s leading authority on latex pussy. Caesar, Alexander and Napoleon wanted to rule the known world; I want to fuck rubber pussies. My mother must be proud.

And then he begins to write about the results of his product testing. First up: the “Tiffany Mynx Realistic Pussy And Ass”.

I realize (as if the comments and emailed queries could allow me not to) that some of you want more frequent updates about The Nymph and our lubricious shenanigans. I’m sorry to have disappointed by my silence, but it’s hard to type a good substantive update (as opposed to the facile “a link and a quote” entries with which I have been fobbing you all off) when she leans over from her adjacent computer chair and starts (as she puts it) “kissing on” me. I’m sure you understand….

Too, we remain in that stage where we spend a lot of time being sappy together, which is enormous fun but doesn’t make for great reportage. Everything is going very well indeed, and despite having moved a great distance so that we can be together, she remains her happy and loveable self. She’s got a job lined up and has met (and been approved, not that it matters) by the local members of my family. Life is good.

Oh yes, and one other thing: the folks at Eros Boutique, being persistent folks with a lot of great merchandise to market, sent along another box with an additional assortment of promising-looking vibrators. So we’ve got product testing to worry about. Ah, the burden of research! Details to follow.

Courtesy again of Raul Fernandez, we have a sexy leprechaun to wish you a happy St. Patrick’s Day:

First leprechaun I ever heard of who’s got two pots of gold!