Kathryn, Jackie, and Eric feel that their
lifelong mate should be strong and independent, loving, faithful,
understanding, devoted, compassionate and most of all — a best
friend. Steve is already legally married to Kathryn, but he pretty
much agrees anyway and he really digs Jackie. Emil says he believes
in lifelong, unbreakable marriage vows, loves Kathryn deeply and is
kinda curious about Eric, so he's up for it.
Forasmuch as these five people have come
hither to be made one in this holy estate, if there be any here
present who knows any just cause why they may not be joined in
marriage, I require him now to make it known or ever after hold his
peace.
Jackie, do you take Kathryn, Emil, Eric, and
Steve to be your lawfully wedded spouses? Do you commit your life
to them, embracing all joys and sorrows, all triumphs and
hardships?
Kathryn, do you take Jackie, Eric, and Emil
to be your lawfully wedded spouses, to have and to hold, in
sickness and in health, 'til death do you part, even if Emil is
kinda creepy?
Emil, do you take Jackie and maybe Eric to
be your lawfully wedded spouses, to love and to cherish, forsaking
most all others with pre-agreed upon exceptions for Butch Night at
the Arena and the occasional one-nighter as per the pre-nup?
Eric, do you take Kathryn and Jackie to be
your lawfully wedded spouses? Do you swear your future and your
life to them, knowing that they're also bi-curious and that you're
entering into a sensual paradise of which other guys may only
dream? Do you realize that Emil swiped a photo of you at the beach
and hid it in his wallet, and that you'll have to deal with it
eventually?
And Steve, do you take Jackie to be your
lawfully wedded wife, allowing Kathryn her freedom to explore her
newly awakened eroticism with Jackie and Eric, especially since
things were getting kinda slow with her anyway and Jackie is just
so totally bitching?
Does someone have the bag of rings?
If you would please place the rings upon
each other's fingers, and repeat after me: This ring symbolizes the
unending union of my life with several of yours. Your dreams are
now my dreams. Your hopes are my hopes. Your fears are my concerns.
Your finances are now my finances. Your affection is my joy. Your
crazy relatives are my crazy relatives. Your repo problems are my
repo problems. Your love is my blessing.
Because you, Jackie, Kathryn, Emil, Eric,
and Steve have consented together in this sacred commitment and
have declared the same before this company of family and friends, I
now pronounce you husbands and wives. You may now kiss…
everybody.
-------------------------
Motel Fun,
or Norman Bates Was Just Getting Started
Having sex in a motel room is not precisely a new
idea, I'm given to understand, but one can always learn a few new
tricks. Sure, you could do it the way your parents did — checking
in with that vaguely guilty look (even if they were married at the
time), washing up separately, laying a towel down to keep the
sheets clean and avoid embarrassing the maid, having furtive and
quiet sex so the equally-shameful people next door wouldn't hear,
washing up separately again, and then either watching a movie so it
wouldn't be so obvious they were there just to have sex, or going
to sleep so they could wake up 300 times in the middle of the night
before finally getting up at 6:30 in the a.m., sore and miserable.
Good times.
But why limit yourself to that, fun though it may
be? You've just paid someone a wad of cash to borrow their room for
a while. Enjoy it! Here's some tips:
Freak out the desk clerk.
Arrive separately, even if you have to drop
your lover off and circle the block a few times.
Look around furtively a lot. Stay at
different ends of the front desk and don't make eye contact with
each other. One of you will need to actually sign in of course, but
the other can pretend they were only here for the coupon books for
the local attractions (“PlegmWorld! $2 off the plume ride every
other Thursday!”).
Trenchcoats can help here, especially if
there are no visible pants legs underneath. Flagrant high heeled
pumps make a nice statement, but only if you're male. It also helps
if you both look really nervous and one of you has a suspicious
bulge in your shirt that awkwardly-crossed arms just won't
hide.
In a frantic-sounding voice, ask the desk
clerk several times if the room has a working toilet. After he/she
reassures you enough times, ask what its capacity is, and if you're
allowed to change rooms if it breaks.
Pay in crumpled, greasy singles, or a single
hundred dollar bill half-covered with blue ink.
If the motel uses those little electronic
card keys, take it, stare straight ahead while you run your finger
across the magnetic tape like braille, then nod to yourself and put
it in your pocket.
Ask for a room that faces Sirius and mock
him if he doesn't understand what you mean.
Walk into the lobby while embracing and
kissing each other passionately and ask the clerk (through
grasping, hungry lips) for the nearest goddamn room.
Bring along about 14 friends and ask for a
single. Tell the clerk that they won't all be staying.
Or just walk in normally, ask for a room and
go through the process friendly and calm, and then, just as you
leave, slip him $5 and, tapping the side of your nose, tell him “We
were never here, eh my lad?”
Use everything the room has to offer.
You paid for it, use it!
The soap is hardly capable of cleaning
anything, but it's handy for writing obscene sonnets across the
bathroom mirror.
Get the Gideon Bible and read each other the
dirty parts.
Ever fold gum wrappers so that they chain
together? Ever wonder how long a chain you could make if you used
an entire phone book?
Send crank letters to the President on motel
stationary.
Turn on the tv, turn off the sound, and add
your own filthy dialogue to the sit-coms, the soaps (not that they
need it), the music videos, even the news. You always knew Gilligan
was boned silly over Mary Anne, now's your chance to hear it
happen!
Tie all the towels, sheets, blankets, and
washcloths together in a long rope and leave it tied to the bedpost
closest to the window when you leave.
See how many pillows you can fit into the
room safe.
A boring motel room is no excuse for boring
sex.
Pile up all the blankets, sheets and towels
into a huge nest to fuck in.
The bed is usually just the wrong height for
one of you to stand or kneel during sex, but you can crank up the
a/c, pull the mattress half-off so that it's leaning on the bed,
lay on it and pretend you're stranded on the side of an Alp and you
need friction to stay warm.
The little tables are usually pretty
sturdy.
If you have a double room, each of you can
get on a separate bed and see how worked up you can get each other.
You can look, you can listen, you can stretch and touch each other,
but both of you have to be somehow touching your home base at all
times.
Or you can use the little bucket and the ice
machine down the hall to turn one bed into an ice floe and pretend
you're penguins. Dump the bedspread into the tub afterwards to
melt.
Come to think of it, the extra bedspread
makes the tub much more comfy. Use it to make a cushioned
hidey-hole, or fill the tub anyway and play Swamp Thing.
If the shower rod looks up to it, doing
chin-ups while coupled is both healthy and an incredible sexual
rush.
The ice machine is your friend. Nothing like
a bucket of ice in one hand and a coffee pot full of hot water in
the other to help you provide just about any sensation
necessary.
Be imaginative when you cry out. “Oh God!”
is trite and dull, and unfair to your potential next-door audience.
Try exclamations such as “Great Krypton!”, “Oh, mommy, yes! Yes!”,
“Now, give me one more foot of it!”, and “Fuck me ragged, Your
Eminence!”
It is usually possible to have neighbors on
up to four sides of you, especially during a busy season. See how
many of them you can get to pound on your walls, ceiling and floor
because of your shrieked cries of love.
One of you lies spread-eagled on the bed.
The other stands perched on top of the television. Can you get
hooked up in a single leap? Lube is essential here. If you master
that, have your lover lie spread-eagled on one bed while you run
and spring off the other one to get more altitude.
Motels are an ideal place to play spy. You
may want to avoid using live ammunition, though.
Isn't the pool just begging for a 3 a.m.
skinnydip? Chevy Chase did it, and he got to see Christie Brinkley
naked.
Don't waste the money on the vibrating bed.
Head to the laundry room and sit her on the corner of the washer.
Cheaper, lasts a lot longer, and it's way more powerful. Plus you
can do a load of laundry at the same time. Can the vibrating bed do
that? I think not.
Go fuck in your car anyway. That'll show
'em!
Balance the complimentary chocolate directly
over her clitoris. Let it melt. Only lick the drippings off, leave
the main candy alone. See how long she can take the gentle
teasing.
On one memorable stay years ago, we picked
up a two-quart jug of baby oil and ended up using the entire thing.
We could barely stay connected; it was a giggly, exhausting
struggle just to have sex at all.
Call other rooms at random and see if you
can exchange spouses.
While you're having sex, play a wildlife
tape of monkeys fighting, just to see if anyone dares
investigate.
Amuse the help.
If room service is
available, you owe it to the poor bored people downstairs to order
something they can talk about for weeks after you leave. I
recommend asking for a bunch of those little canoe-looking cakes
you use for strawberry shortcake, a hacksaw, a single stalk of
celery, a small pool pump, a copy of
Hiney
Heros
magazine (last month's issue), and
50' of garden hose. Ask them to please hurry and to just leave it
outside the door.
Explain that you're technically not peeing
in the pool, you're peeing off your balcony and it's hardly your
fault which way the wind was blowing.
Bring along your own maid's outfit and
wander into other rooms.
Be sure to make faces at the mirror, just in
case.
Get up early in the morning
and replace all the complimentary newspapers with copies of
Barely Legal
.
Maids have a pretty boring job, so it's a
nice gesture to liven up their mornings by presenting them with
something a little different in the realm of wet spots. Move around
a lot, make some art. You've got a queen-sized canvas there, use
it! Squirt food coloring into some body lotion and coat yourselves
with it before you start. A masterpiece!
Call down to the front desk and ask for a
teeny, tiny little favor. Tell them you can't explain why, but
you'd really, really appreciate it if they could send someone
around to your room in exactly 17 minutes to bang on the door and
yell, “Honey, the chicken is done!” If someone actually does it,
moan loudly.
Don't use the
Do Not Disturb
sign.
Instead, throw back the coverlet, sit up, hold a bottle of
champagne ready, and when the maid enters the room, look up and say
“Darling, I've been waiting.” Alternately, the same scenario, but
wearing a leather harness.
Sit in the motel bar getting good and
plastered before taking her hand and saying loudly “C'mon honey, we
don't have much time before my visitation time is over.”
If the manager comes to complain, refuse to
come out until John Walsh shows up.
Tip very, very well.
-------------------------
Take the
Bukkake Challenge!
[Scene opens as the camera tracks through
heavy white drapes over white French doors. We enter a brilliant
white bedroom, luxuriously furnished in white and silver. Violin
music is playing — low and sensual. A stunningly beautiful blonde
woman is lying across the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, arms
outstretched, head propped up on a pillow. Her makeup is
impeccable. She begins talking as we reach the foot of the
bed]
PROSTATIA:
Hi.
[licks lips]
I'm Prostatia Jones, porn star and part-time
waitress. And I'm here to offer you the Spraybellite Challenge. You
know how easily mascara smears, how easily lipstick smudges, and
how tough it is to get those messy stains off your cheeks without
ruining your blush. Well, Spraybellite's new
Bukkake
TM
line of makeup can handle anything you can throw at it. Just
watch!
[The background music segues gracefully
into a fully-orchestrated rendition of the theme from “Deep Throat”
(arranged and performed by Vanessa Mae). A naked man enters from
the left. He is large, muscular, and obviously very interested in
Prostatia, or at least portions of her. He begins stroking himself
very quickly.]
PROSTATIA:
Can
your
makeup handle
this
?
[She immediately turns just in time to
catch massive dollops of thick ropy fluid all over her face. She
turns, smiling, making sure she's completely coated. When he
finally subsides, she turns her dripping face back to the
camera.]