Invasion Of The Giant Spermatozoa

It’s like the nightmare of a woman who really doesn’t like to swallow:

Artwork is from the cover of Terror Blu #105.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Thrown To The Goblins, For Impudence
• On Swallowing Cum
• Semen And Intelligent Design
• I'll Have The White

Tumbled Cumshot Porn

I was running through a vein of Tumblrs this morning with a lot of cumshot porn that I can’t or won’t put here for various reasons. But then I thought, for what better reason did God in His Earthly Avatar Tim Berners-Lee implement the hyperlink?

• This one made me laugh. She’s got a zucchini to masturbate with, and she’s not afraid to use it. And judging by the mess, he really likes to watch.
• Two sleepy-looking girls in this photo are trying to lick the last drop of goodness out of this man’s cock. It’s the sort of scene most men figure they’ll never see even once in their lives. It’s not that you couldn’t arrange a threesome — that can be done if you’re some combination of smooth and handsome and lucky and rich — but setting a scene that relaxed and loving? Not easy.
• On the other hand, these two girls are just about to get the flavor and it looks like they are expecting something like liquified dog poo mixed with apple-scented dish detergent. Ladies, if you’re hating the idea so much, why are you there?
• There’s a ton of fake cumshot porn out there where the ladies are drizzled with various mixtures of condensed milk, cornstarch, and so on; you can Google fake jizz recipes. Something about these two girls makes me think they vamped themselves up in the kitchen and posed for this shot to torture an absent young feller. It’s just got that “I’m posing for my facebook and my head is turned because my arm is stretched out with the camera in my hand” feel to it:

  

• Here we have an over-capacity and overflow issue. And yet he’s still pumping!
• This right here is the ultimate “happy girlfriend” post-blowjob look. I’m not saying there isn’t a professional photog out there who can’t get a paid model to look like that (that’s why we call them “professionals”) but I am saying it’s why people put so much time and effort into looking for real amateur porn on the web.
• Aaaiiieeee! It burns!

I could go on like this for hours, but that’s enough to get started with.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Paige Will Need A Tissue
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Semen And Intelligent Design

“You know why God is a man? Because if God were a woman she would have made sperm taste like chocolate.” — Comedian Carrie Snow

Client Gets Screwed

The thing about erotic story repositories on the internet that makes them so interesting is that they are structurally noncommercial. Which is to say, for the most part, they accumulate the sort of erotic fiction that nobody wants to be in the business of selling in print.

It would be easy to say more generally that amateur erotic fiction isn’t of commercial quality, but that’s a cop-out; it’s so hard to make money selling erotic fiction that, strictly speaking, virtually all of it that exists isn’t “commercial quality” if you define that as “you could sell enough of this to be worth publishing it.” No, I’m talking about thematic elements that would, at the very least, complicate any commercial distribution, themes and scenarios that make business people nervous and/or queasy. Rape, incest, sex at any age, bestiality, rare fetishes, social taboos, and every imaginable combination thereof: “I caught my teacher fucking her dog and blackmailed her with the photos, I made her wear sweaty rubber boots, call me Master, and suck my cock in the supply closet — and then I made her take my little brother and his Nintendo buddies on a field trip to the petting zoo!”

This, of course, is a specific instance of the general case, the root nature of the internet that makes it so wonderful and terrible. No matter how narrow your interest, you can get anything you want, but you’ll find it cheek-by-jowl with a million things that will raise your eyebrows until they ache.

Doubt me? Go have a look at The Kristen Archives. If there’s a better place on the internet to find sex stories, I haven’t seen it. But you simply must be adult about it. Skim the summaries; if a story’s not for you, don’t read it. For extra credit and true advancement toward mastery, cultivate the ability to appreciate what’s hot about a story while disregarding the elements (stylistic or thematic) that aren’t.

Your example for the day is Screwed, featuring an amoral attorney who’s clearly more excited by the financial screwing he gives his client than he is by the blowjob he enjoys from her. If you’re a professional of any kind, you might find yourself too outraged to enjoy the story. Which would be a shame, because there’s no law that says villains can’t be funny in the conduct of their villainy:

I wound my hand in her hair and jerked her head back and forth, each time forcing more of my dick into her mouth until she was almost choking, but she never pulled back. When she reached between her legs and began playing with her pussy as I roughly jerked her head onto my cock, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She was getting off on the rough treatment. I would like to have experimented more, but the tremendous mental and physical stimulation pushed me over the top, and with almost painful jets, I shot a copious load of jism down her throat, my cock unbelievably huge and purple looking, the orgasm without a doubt the best I’d ever experienced in a woman’s mouth, making it feel even better.

I collapsed backward onto my elbows, basking in the after-glow, my cock still twitching in her hand as she licked her lips and swallowed the remains of my wad. Then, squeezing up the length of my cock, she forced up a final dollop of sperm, and looking at me, and squeezing the huge drip onto her tongue, she let me watch her spread it around her mouth and slowly and with a sensuous grin, swallowed the entire thing. Then, as though not yet satisfied, she sucked my cock clean of every last drop of cum, kissed my balls tenderly and sat back in her chair with a brilliant smile, rearranging her skirt, giving me a shot of her unpantied beaver before dropping the skirt primly into place.

I let my head drop back onto the desk, eyes closed, trying to regain my strength. I’d never had a head shot like that. The woman was a vampire — she positively loved cum. I glanced at the clock and with a shock realized that she’d sucked me for almost 20 minutes, and that we were almost through the lunch hour. Quickly, I refigured her bill. I’d need to get paid for that extra hour now, and — what the hell — she’d just had her lunch on me! I tacked $50.00 dollars onto her bill. That would make it $350.00. But then I realized that she’d probably dicker with me, so I threw on another $100.00 to give me something to work with, for a total of $450.00 less her discount. I’d just gotten paid $150.00 for blowing my wad down my client’s throat!

As I watched her repair her lipstick, I thought about the glimpse of her hairy cooze I’d gotten as she’d pulled the skirt down. I was still excited and the thought of fucking this ‘respectable’ mother of two made my cock start to stand up again. I didn’t bother to put it away.

“Well, Karen, that was great — you certainly have talent — but now there’s the matter of your bill.”

Well, of course, she’d expected that the entire bill would be forgiven based on her performance, but I gave her a lecture on overhead travel fees, etc., then made my pitch for the discount. But before I did it, a perverse streak caused me to quote her $550.00 as my bill to see what she’d say. She seemed taken aback, but I pointed out that I’d done a lot of research before we’d gone to court. I gently explained to her that just because she’d assumed that I’d dismiss the whole bill didn’t constitute a contract because we’d had no discussion beforehand. Then I asked her what she thought her services had been worth. Just as I thought, she undervalued them-obviously low self esteem-and dubiously quoted $100.00. I could have backed her down, but I had another plan in mind. I accepted her offer, and generously knocked off another $50.00 to show good faith. That term always gets them, even though it meant nothing in this case. Now we were down to $400.00.

She had brightened appreciably. I then offered her a chance to knock the bill down another $50.00 if I could fuck her — and I said it just like that. She acted as though the very words turned her on. But, believe it or not, she was getting bolder, and came back with $100.00. We finally settled on $75.00. I was on a roll, and I could have gotten her down to $50.00 — but, what the hell, I’m not totally devoid of conscience!

Pass It On: Anal Sex Makes Your Butt Biggerer

This has to be a troll / prank post. It has to be. Please, nobody could be so stupid, it has to be.

Please?

If it were real, it would be the ultimate answer to that “why are men always chasing those dumb bimbos, the ones so dumb they can’t breathe without reminders” complaint you sometimes hear from smart women:

I have a really flat butt. My boyfriend read that anal sex will help make it bigger, but only if he shoots his sperm deep inside. We used to have anal sex sometimes. He always wore a condom before. Now we have anal sex and he shoots really deep inside me and i keep it there.

I think I like this even if it doesn’t make my butt biggerer. He says my butt does look bigger, but I can’t tell. Has anyone else heard of thjis? Will his sperms in my butt make it bigger?

Via Sexoteric.

Sperm Inspired Screensaver?

Evil Science Chick ranted the other day about how guys are cum obsessed. Amusing, but I disagree, because I do love swallowing as long as it doesn’t taste awful, and I like having it rubbed into my boobs, etc. It’s one of my favorite fluids and I’m happy to be getting alot more of it these days.

And I guess I’m obsessed too……last weekend I went with J to a friend’s house, and while they were talking buses and ports and firewalls, I got bored, until his friend’s screensaver started. It was the best, sexiest screensaver I have EVER seen! It looked like lots of sperm of different colors, dancing all over the screen, sometimes lining up side by side and other times fusing together in a psychedelic explosion of swirling color. By the time we got out of there I was really horny….J didn’t know why but he sure didn’t complain!

I don’t know whether I should try to find that screensaver to put on my computer or not. I might not get any work done!

Perfect Sticky Feet

Here’s a bit of midweek blasphemy from Hot Action:

Safe to say that at a certain point in my life, I started to have some serious philosophical issues with the Christian religion.

“So if you can’t have sex, what do you do in Heaven all day?”

“There is no such thing as day or night in Heaven.”

“…So what do you do in Heaven all eternity?”

“You glorify God.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Hmmm.

Sorry homie, I think I might respectfully decline the invitation to this party.

There’s something that really freaks me out about Heaven, and it can be summed up in two words: infant mortality.

It’s not just that God is a smug bastard who causes beautiful innocent babies to die. It’s the fact that these babies, being free of sin, all get a free ticket to Heaven. Every one of them.

Can you imagine showing up to the Afterlife and there’s millions and millions of babies everywhere?

All of them gurgling and cooing and crawling all over you with their perfect little baby bodies.

This does not sound like my idea of a bachelor’s paradise.

It gets worse. Some believers in Christianity are opposed to contraception because they believe it murders billions of tiny souls. “Every sperm is sacred” and so on.

Maybe it explains how the Pearly Gates got their name. Although “Pearly Floodgates” might be more appropriate. I’ve probably sent a few million souls up to the glorification of God myself. I’ve probably sent a few million up today.

“Welcome to Heaven. The good news is the streets are paved with gold. The bad news is, ALL THE STREETS ARE FLOODED WITH COME.”

Watch your step!

The Story of R: Further Thanksgiving Sexploits

[Continuing my story….. Here’s the first part, Unexpected Reunion, in case you haven’t read it.]

I awaken the next morning in a lingering, warm glow from R’s and my passion. I feel more rested and energized than I have in a long time….then I slip in to wondering what will happen next between us. Was that it–one night of hot sex–or is there more in store for us? If there is, what will it be like? Reliving the crazed teenage lust was fun, but that won’t–can’t–last.

As I’m sitting at the kitchen table, having a cup of coffee and talking with Mom, someone raps on the front door. It’s R.Mom knows some stuff about the unrequited feelings between R and me in school, and she’s been kind of charmed by him too. Now he stands at her door, well-dressed and smiling that smile, loosely holding two white roses in one hand. After they hug, he presents her with one rose, then sees me and his smile widens. R asks Mom for permission to see me, which she enthusiastically gives. He steps in to the kitchen and offers me the other rose. It’s exquisite in both appearance and heady scent.

In response to my mother’s questions regarding how he knew I was home, R coolly covers our chance meeting at the store. He makes the entire encounter sound totally innocent, as if his interest is solely in re-establishing friendship with a longlost bud…but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye that I wonder if my mom sees. Talk then turns to catching up between them…..like any well-meaning mom, she’s probably thinking matchmaker thoughts and a lot of the talk focuses on what he’s doing, and how well he’s doing at it. Turns out he’s doing quite well as an executive for a fairly big tech company. Not Mr. Millionaire himself, but he’s well-paid and he has a lot of corporate perks available to him. As they talk, I observe…..and see that, while R’s being genuine, it’s also obvious he’s mastered a lot of people-handling skills.

R’s visit concludes with asking my mom to take some of the family’s already-limited time with me over the Thanksgiving weekend so that he and I can catch up. Utterly charmed, she says of course he can spend time with me. R turns to me, green eyes ablaze with impish sparks, and asks if I’d like to go for a walk with him tonight. I agree, and the date is set.

——-

What a “next move”! I think to myself afterward. I decide to try to ride the youthful-lust energy for one more night. When R appears precisely at the appointed time, he sees me in my best attempt to recapture my typical high-school appearance…..soft flannel shirt, tight jeans, my hair caught in a ponytail (much shorter than back then), even my old high-tops (thanks, Mom, for not throwing them out!)….a sharp intake of breath signals a momentary lapse in his poise. My composure is similarly thrown off. He hadn’t used the “wayback machine” like I did, but is just gorgeous in a simple white turtleneck sweater, light blue jeans, and black leather jacket.

As we stroll to the park, I notice that few people are out….it’s a cool night for the locals. R and I aren’t saying much–more general talk, filling in all those missing years–but he’s taken my hand, and caresses it as we walk. I sense real caring from R, and an undercurrent of passion, in both his touch and talk. Forgetting my decision to let him lead, I impetuously steer us to “The Wet Spot”….a small clearing in an overgrown corner of the park, long rumored to be a hot spot used by teens and grownups alike for furtive encounters.

I stop in front of it and turn to face him with my question: “You ever make it with anybody here?” The unexpected challenge brings a lovely flush to his lightly-tanned face, and as he tries to stammer a reply I press on with, “Ya want to tonight?” and crawl in without waiting for his reply.

He follows immediately, surprising me with a bite on the ass as he does. I yip, then wheel around so that he can see my face as I peel off my clothes. The moonlight lends its soft glow to my skin, and R greedily drinks in the sight. At last I’m naked, cool but comfortable in the night air….and R finally breaks his spell with a murmur of something like, “You’re better than I dreamed …” Then his warm hands are upon me, stroking and exploring in a way that seems almost worshipful to me. Awed, I slip out of the teenage tart role and enjoy his attentions.

With a muffled growl, R abruptly changes the pace, pulling me to him hard, then kneading my ass as his tongue fills my mouth. His taste and scent fill my head…the heat of his erection warms my belly even through his jeans…..and we’re back in passion’s thrall, squeezing, sucking, tasting, teasing….exploring and riding the heat more fully than we did the previous night.

After getting my first taste of R’s cock and fluids, bringing him almost to orgasm with my teasing tongue, he pushes me down onto my hands and knees, then moves behind me for entry. We both groan at the immediate pleasure of filling and being filled….with just a few flicks to my clit and a couple of pumps, I’m shuddering with the intensity of my orgasm. R’s only a few moments behind me, gasping as my vagina squeezes around him. I collapse to the ground, R blanketing me, both lost in the twilight of pleasure.

Finally, R chuckles and pulls out. “You’re quite the sexpot, sweetie, but this carelessness really isn’t a good idea.” I laugh and agree, and we have the sex-history and protection talks. Even though tests taken during his marriage some years back indicated he has a low sperm count, we agree that tempting fate isn’t smart, and work out a contraceptive arrangement. Through the conversation our hands continue to explore each other’s bodies, ultimately causing our talk to falter.

R’s incessant pinching and teasing of my nipples is enough to bring me to another, small orgasm. I decide to reward him in kind, with a blow job….and end up in the most amazing 69 session I’ve had. R comes first, shooting a decent amount of fluid for having already come once. The lull in action while he orgasms serves only as a tortuous tease for me….so when R resumes his oral attentions I’m easily brought off again by his hot, deft tongue. He barely allows me to climax before rolling atop me and filling me again with his still-hard member, pounding me as wave after wave of pleasure pours through me…..finally ending in his orgasm.

Much later, as we’re walking back to my parents’ house, we agree to not get together the next day…..but it’s clearly understood that we’re both enjoying this….whatever it is, and want it to continue.

Strange Sex Spam O’ The Day

Nobody expects very much from spam. But most of it makes at least a certain sort of sense. Bigger penis? Sure, there’s a market. Harder penis? Why not? Breast enlargements? Cheaper mortgages? Debt reduction? Fake Rolex watches? I probably know somebody who wants each of these things.

But an increased ejaculate volume? Who do I know that worries about their inability to make a big enough mess during sex? No, on second thought, don’t tell me.

This is an actual spam I just got, with editorial comments in brackets:

Has your cum ever dribbled and you wish it had shot out?

[Er, no. Or, I’m not sure about the dribbling. Usually I’m not looking; usually it’s in a warm moist place that I can’t see into. As for wishing it had shot out, why? This ain’t a peeing contest, boys. There are, so far as I know, no prizes for volume or velocity.]

Have you ever wanted to impress your girl with a huge cumshot?

[I’ve frequently wanted to impress my girl, yes. But is she impressed by a huge cumshot? Uh, Nymph? Is there something you haven’t been telling me? Is there in fact any woman in the whole freakin’ world who cares whether a cumshot is huge or not?]

[. . . . . sound of crickets . . . . . ]

[PRODUCT] is the only site to offer an all natural male enhancement
formula that is proven to increase your sperm volume by up to 500%.
Our highly potent, volume enhancing formula will give our results
in days and comes with an impressive 100% guarantee.

Imagine the difference (look and feel) between dribbling your cum
compared to shooting out burst after burst.

[The look? Where exactly is this wanker ejaculating? And exactly how little sensation is he getting from sex, that he’s worring about the feel of his ejaculation? Hello, you’re supposed to be in sensory overload just then!]

Try [PRODUCT] now! and with our money back guarantee you have absolutely nothing to lose!

[Riiiight — because taking pills with absolutely no information on what’s in them is never dangerous. “Your herbal poison eroded my heart valves, can I have my $19.99 back please?]

But seriously, folks, and all ridicule aside — is there anybody among my readers, male or female, who worries about the force and volume of male ejaculate? If so, please chime in with a comment and an explanation!

Caviar’s Counterpart, Now on the Lunch Menu

Richard over at Amorous Propensities has a bit on sperm for lunch.

Really.

No, not a lunchtime blow job, but puffer fish sperm. It’s a delicacy in Singapore.

Go read the whole thing for the intriguing details.

The Sexual Pravda About Ghengis Khan

From Pravda, which as any former student of Sovietology knows means “Truth” (the scare quotes being an essential part of the translation), comes this ill-translated “legend” about the sexual practices of Ghengis Khan:

The Great Khan respected the wisdom of Chinese. After hearing that they possess the secret of immortality, in 1222 Genkhis Khan invited famous monk and wizard Chan Chun from the banks of the Irtysh river. Genkhis Khan respectfully asked him for the medicine for eternal life.

“You poured out sperm into too many women to expect immortality”, Chan Chun replied.

He told shocked Genkhis Khan about Dao of Love — the doctrine of sex as the way to extend life. It was elaborated by the legendary Yellow Emperor who lived one thousand years before.

The monk said that during orgasm a man and a woman discharge the juices of the body, and his/her partner benefit from this by gaining energy. The man striving for immortality can have intercourse with many women only after he learn the skills of throwing them into ecstasies and not pouring out his sperm. In this way he gains women’s energy (Yin), preserving his man’s energy (Yang) for special cases — when he goes not to a concubine, but to a wife and wants her to give a birth to a son.

“Did you follow these principles in your life, Emperor?”, Chan Chun asked.

Genkhis Khan realized that he could expect neither immortality nor one more son.

Thanks to J. Orlin Grabbe for the link.

Soon To Be a Daddy

First of all, a disclaimer: I am not a safe sex nazi, and this is not a safe sex blog. The web is awash with info on ways to avoid STDs and pregnancy, and although such info is useful and necessary, it’s often not terribly arousing, so I do my readers the courtesy of assuming they already know what they need to know. At least, that is, until my nose is rubbed in the fact that sometimes, they don’t.

Rambling aside: Back when I linked with affirmation to Red-Headed Slut’s positive comments about Johnson’s Baby Oil gel, I got numerous emails from folks who were eager to be sure that I know that mineral oil destroys latex. Some of these were low-key “just want to be sure you know” sorts of emails, but several were high-energy strident “oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-you-didn’t-warn-everyone” type emails. I found this puzzling, even a bit patronizing, considering that
(a) I knew this;
(b) I assume that most of my readers know it;
(c) I have never undertaken to be the safe sex education for those readers who don’t have basic safe sex information; and
(d) the effect of mineral oil on a latex condom is not terribly relevant in the context of a discussion of a lube recommendation for a hand-job where no condom was mentioned.

In short, I felt that I got spammed by knee-jerk safe sex activist warrior partisans, who have for whatever reason been conditioned to be uncomfortable hearing any mention of oil-based lube unless “destroys condoms” is uttered immediately thereafter, even if that’s not relevant to the discussion. With all due thanks and appreciation for their good and noble intentions, I don’t want to be like those people.

But just this once, I’ll take the risk.

So now, in the fifth paragraph of this post, I’ll get to the point. I got a nice email from a young man who has started a new sex blog [now defunct], and who wants a link. Now, young male voices being quite the minority in the sex blogging world, I naturally went and had a look.

It’s worth a visit. There are two honest-sounding tales so far of young sexual encounters. But (and you knew there was a “but”, didn’t you?) I was immediately struck by the first post, in which the narrator says:

“I guided her into a position so I could spoon with her, lowered her pants, and slipped myself inside. We continued for a while, and then (as a matter of anti-pregnancy) I pulled out and put on a condom.”

When read this, my inner safe sex nazi started yelling and screaming. Given the existence of precum (that droplet of clear fluid that shows up shortly after erection, which can contain sperm and is perfectly capable of making a girl pregnant) this simply is not a good way to avoid unwanted babies. The condom really needs to go on the dick before it touches the pussy; exceptions aren’t a good idea unless one wants a family.

Sorry, I just had to say that.

The News Just Keeps Getting Better

From that fountain of high quality sexual knowledge, RedBook Magazine, comes this news for a woman who (perhaps hopefully?) wants to know if there are any health problems associated with swallowing semen:

The good news is that it’s beneficial! Recently studies have shown that regular consumption of semen can actually have some wonderful health benefits. Semen contains at least 13 prostaglandins and high concentrations of hormones that retain potency if taken orally. The quality of the seminal hormones is thought to be superior to even prescription versions. In the study women who regularly consumed their lovers sperm showed such benefits as a reduction in ovarian cancers, lowered depression and many even had acne symptoms lessen or stop entirely. It is thought that the oral consumption of the potent hormones had a balancing effect on woman’s hormonal ups and downs caused by their periods and pregnancy or breastfeeding.

The key to the findings is “regular consumption”. Only once in blue moon won’t have the same effect. Those that indulged once or twice a week received little benefits. The ones who received the results were the ones who ingested semen four to five times a week or more!

You do understand, of course, that no man wants to see a woman depressed, and that “balancing effect on hormonal ups and downs” sounds pretty nifty too. If daily blowjobs are the cure, why, we’ll do what it takes to make ourselves available. Some sacrifices are worth it.

Pornographers of Gor

A spiffy online magazine sorta thing called Wrong Way Go Back has published Three Unerotic Tales. One is too scientific, one is too euphemistic, and one is just downright over the top. The scientific one reads frighteningly like what John Norman would sound like if he tried to write hard-core straight porn:

His penis slid into her vagina and she secreted more vaginal discharge. Luckily the discharge was not irritating or blood-stained, nor did it have an unpleasant odour, the cause of which is usually foreign bodies, cervical erosion or cervical polyp.

Luckily, too, she was on the pill, a type which built a wall between the cervix and fallopian tube that prevented sperm from entering her uterus and impregnating her ovum upon ejaculation.

She was simply having sex with him for the pleasure of it, having successfully passed through her oral and anal phase of psychosexual development to fully centre upon exploration of her genetalia.

There’s also a snarky article about how web logs are nothing new, nothing special, and nothing revolutionary. Which is fucking hilarious ironic coming from a website that is slavishly imitating a dead tree magazine, right down to page numbers and two-page advertising spreads for sport utility vehicles. [It’s also ironic that all the links in this post died and had to be removed.]

Unclean Hands? You Don’t Say…

According to legal blog “How Appealing” a convicted but unsuccessful semen smuggler will not be getting the (now seized) sperm back. The United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit held, in all its awesome appellate majesty and with just a hint of risque humor:

The District Court found that the criminal conduct to which Mrs. Parlavecchio pleaded guilty was conspiracy to bribe a public official, that is, “the illegal payment of money in exchange for receiving seminal fluids from Mrs. Parlavecchio’s husband.” In essence, Mrs. Parlavecchio was seeking a return of the very fruits of her criminal activity. The District Court held, therefore, that a return of the seminal fluid would violate the basic principle that a claimant in a civil equitable proceeding must come into court with “clean hands.”

I’ll Have The White

Apparently hraka is not all they like to eat over at Rabbit Central. This time, they have “sperm sommelier” tasting notes. You have to read it; it can’t reasonably be excerpted.

Dear Mr. Abbey

The Acidman shares with us (but does not claim to have written) how it would be if “Dear Abby” was a man:

Dear Mr. Abby:

Q: My husband continually asks me to perform oral sex on him.

A.: Do it. Sperm can help you loose weight and gives a great glow to your skin. Interestingly, men know this. His offer to allow you to perform oral sex on him is totally selfless. This shows he loves you. The best thing to do is to thank him by performing it twice a day. Then cook him a nice meal.

Mr. Abby misses a prime opportunity here, though, to further point out that, supposedly, semen makes women happy.