A long time ago I wrote an article on sexuality and it was really terrible. It was so embarrassingly awful that I'm not even going to bother linking it, but if you insist on reading the damn thing you can still find it on SA. This article disappeared into the impenetrable void of our huge archives never to be heard from again, until a couple months ago when I received the following email:
Dear "Geist Editor,"
I'm a TA for a Human Sexuality course, and also happen to be a fan of the SA site. I was considering using some material from one of your segments when discussing mass media and sex (probably either your "How to Sexually Gratify a Woman" or a bit from the Horrors of Porn). So this is me, officially asking permission to use your 'intellectual property' but not for profit. The students are all legal (college students enrolled in a sex clas, man) so you shouldn't get any flak from outraged parents. And, hopefully, they'll begin to frequent the site and throw down money for things. Keep in mind that in this class, the girls outnumber the boys by about a factor of 5. And since I often get the impression that I'm the only female reading your pages...c'mon!
I'm not sure if this is something for which I need to ask permission (it never hurts to be polite, though) or if I should contact you or Kyanka. So just get back to me if there's a problem or issue.
I was flabbergasted and at the same time I was excited! The guy who saw less action in college than W in Vietnam was going to be teaching women about the soft and tender parts of their bodies. It would be like a SCUBA diver teaching astronomers about the moon or something. Based on the content of her email and various FBI writing analysts I have seen on TV and in movies I extrapolated a picture of Chandra:
I'm not sure why she is wearing an SS uniform or what she is doing to that poor student with the riding crop, but I was intrigued. I wrote back to Chandra and gave her my full permission to use any and all material I have written for SA to inform and titillate her obviously nubile and submissive young students. Not too long after that I received a second email from Chandra informing me that the class went even better than she had expected! Her email was very long and technical so I will paraphrase it for you:
The girls all loved it. Each of us orgasmed like 500 times during the class and we were doing that weird female ejaculation thing that might just be peeing or it might be because we stuck water up in our vaginas, who knows?! Certainly not a college-level sexuality TA! We got so into your stuff that we all took our clothes off and had a big orgy and right then an oil truck driving by the class overturned and spilled all this vegetable oil into the classroom and we were just slipping and sliding all over each other like a bait cup full of earthworms. Earthworms with vaginas! Then we had so many orgasms that it formed into a super orgasm and the whole building exploded and we all shot up into the air on a giant geyser of that weird pee/water/ejaculation stuff. Please visit ASAP I think you need to teach us in person!!!!!! HURRY!!
Keepin' it wet,
I was pretty pleased with the results of the class, but before I could pack my bags and climb aboard the vagina conveyor a sudden melancholy overtook me. Sure, I could go to the university and perform countless and unspeakable acts on all of these tender young girls, but what of the rest? What about the girls at Berkeley, MIT or Texas A&M? How would they make do without my wisdom?
Sadly, I cancelled my flight to assist Chandra and immediately set to work on creating a tool for women everywhere - young or old as long as they are hot - to use to explore their own sexuality. I initially envisioned some sort of robot I could program to travel around the country and help, but cost and the laws of several southern states prevented me from following through on that one. Instead, I realized that nothing can motivate or imbue self-esteem quite like being graded on an A to F scale. With that in mind I created this sexuality self-assessment for all of the women out there who can't bask in the glory of my genius.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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