April 6, 2010

A Guest Post by KEN

Women of the World, if I may have your attention for just one moment.

Do I have your attention? Excellent.

::Ahem::

Don’t fear the rimjob.

Seriously. Don’t.

Because you know me. And you know I’m going to ask eventually. Sure, I can make with the witty banter over dinner. The obligatory reference to the latest Tyler Perry movie. The questions about your Aunt Netty – I sure hope she’s doing okay. But make no mistake. While I’m droning on and on about how much American Idol misses Paula Abdul and how totally awesome your hair looks, I’m really thinking about rimming you.

If I have only one pet peeve in the bedroom, and it is women who will not even entertain the thought of a guy’s face anywhere near their derrieres. And those women are out there. And it seems unfair to lambaste them for not liking what they don’t like. After all, if I met a chick who was really into setting her boypal’s testicles on fire and kicking him repeatedly in the shins, I’d have to let her down. But I say if you’re gonna show it off in those two hundred dollar jeans or that leather skirt, shaking it mercilessly as I follow you up the stairs, into the parking lot, or out of the bowling alley, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that at some point, I’m going to ask if I can wear your ass like a catcher’s mask.

“But it doesn’t seem right,” you might think. “Certainly not very hygienic.” To that, I say fuck hygiene. You’ve got a great ass. I’d like to become ridiculously intimate with that ass. And I’ve been eating female ass long enough to know there is very little a woman can do — short of swinging a knife at my genitals (or perhaps breaking my nose) — that will dissuade me from finishing the job once I’ve undertaken it. If you’re uncomfortable with the idea of a guy’s tongue up your ass, just hear me out. Listen to my credentials. Let me offer up my action plan (complete with PowerPoint presentation), which will inevitably involve letting my tongue stray from your ass crack to your holiest of holies (after a good swig of Cepacol Antibacterial Mouthwash, which I always keep on hand for such occasions), whereupon I will deliver cunnilingus that you might swear is being delivered by Jesus Christ himself. Or at least that guy who used to play “The Fonz.”

It could open up a whole new world of enjoyment for you. Hell, next time we go out, you might ask me to rim you. You might even suggest bypassing dinner entirely and just straddling my face upon my arrival at your flat. These are good things, and I hate to have you miss out on them simply because the thought of a stern rimming “doesn’t seem right.”

So relax. Take a chance. Drop those inhibitions. And those pants.

Also, understand two things: Every step will be taken to ensure your maximum enjoyment of said rimming. And I never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever look for reciprocation in this arena. I am strictly about rimming unto others. Never the other way around.

Like, never.

Thanks for your time. And, oh, can I rim you?

For further perversion, feel free to visit me at my blog, LustMongers.

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