I’m all for body modification—ladies, make ‘em boobs monsters; fellas, unfurl your dicks—but I gotta tell ya, I’m on the fence with going to some sleazy tattoo shop and inking up your pecker, and then driving a heavy gage stainless steel ring through its tip.  That shit is just wrong.

Fuck, as if doing up your zipper while hammered wasn’t perilous enough.  One fuck up, and you’ll be pissing on the washroom walls for the rest of your life.  File this under: not– (continue reading…)

I don’t know about you, but I’m a man who values variety.  Even if I had the option of eating the finest steak every night of the week, I couldn’t do it, not for any sustainable length of time, and I’m a fully blooded carnivore.  I would still need to punctuate my red meat with the occasion fowl.  And the same goes for my pussy!

I can’t devour bald bird month in, month out; I need some fucking beaver in my diet too.  In my books, it is either or.  There’s no middle ground.  Nothing is harder on the cock than twat stubble, or as I refer to it as: shaft-shredder.  Ouch!  Those– (continue reading…)