I tried putting these in my previous post, as the quote about male goats getting turned on by watching females mount each other just screams for visuals!  My computer at home apparently had moral objections to these pictures, though, and wouldn’t touch them.  Thank god my office computer has no such scrupples!  I think I spot teets on the observer goat, so this is probably a female watching another couple.

This scene looks far more fun for everyone involved…except perhaps the little gal on bottom.  Yikes!

I found a marvelous little book called “Fish that fake orgasms and other zoological curiosities” by Matt Walker.  It’s a collection of odd trivia about how other creatures behave.  I’ve personally always believed that we’re no different from most of the other creatures on this planet, and I think sometimes we try to put big psychological theories onto behaviors that are purely biological in origin.  For example, why do some women fake orgasms?

“Female brown trout (Salma trutta) fake orgasms to encourage males to ejaculate prematurely.  By doing so, they dupe their partner into thinking it has successfully mated, before the female fish moves on to find a better male with which to do the real thing” (page 12).

So girls, what’s our excuse?  The brown trout has a good idea there…hold out for the real thing!   “Faking it” seems so practical when examined through the eyes of a fish.

Apparently it’s also not uncommon for some species of birds to have threesomes!  The Eurasian oystercatcher is particularly fond of three-way relationships in the form of one male, two females.  See guys…the birds were doing it before it became chic!  Much like humans, though, these three-ways can frequently end with either the two females fighting, or deciding they prefer each other to the male.

Speaking of sexual preferences, this one blows me away:

“Male garter snakes have a tendency to become transvestites, or ’she-males’, an odd strategy where young male snakes dress up as members of the opposite sex and attempt to mate with other males.  The snakes do this by producing similar lipids on their skin to females.  These lipids  attract the attentions of other male snakes.  All male garter snakes seem to go through this phase as they pass into adulthood, and the reason for becoming a transvestite appears to be twofold; the change appears to switch off the elaborate courtship behavior males use to woo females, preventing the young snakes from expending too much energy on mating at a time when it is unlikely to be successful” (page 14).

Walker goes on to say that tricking the older snakes into mating with males is a good way for the younger dudes to ultimately be the ones to father the young.  So the next time I’m at a drag show watching the older men drool over the drag queens, I’ll say a little prayer of thanks to the garter snake.

And finally…my favorite:

“Male goats become sexually aroused when they see female goats mount one another” (page 17).

My god, I’ve always had the same problem!  I guess I can cross that off my therapy list now that I know it’s a completely normal occurrence in nature.

After reading Steamywordguy’s methodology for scoring a married woman, I felt I had to put a few of my own tactics up…these have worked on at least one married woman!  Before I spew my secrets, though, let me just be clear that I’m poking fun at Steamy’s methods, NOT at the need.  I’ve been in the boat of having needs that extended beyond my marriage, so in that respect I sympathesize COMPLETELY.  I think everyone has the right to pursue their own needs…the trick is meeting them in a way that’s respectful to everyone involved. 

So without further adieu, here’s how I got my married lady!  (I’ve got to be quick here while she’s getting her hair done, lest she get online and edit my gospel truth!)

Step 1…Start a discussion group!  I started a discussion group for bisexual women who were engaged in multiple relationships.  Brillant move on my part!  It’s been the best thing for my sex life since batteries or therapy.

Step 2…Start a sex blog!  Or rather, resurrect a sex blog that I had deleted two years ago in a righteous creative fit!  Anyway, the blogging allows me to write out all my fantasies.  As it happened, one of the married bisexual women who joined my discussion group was ALSO a writer.  What good fortune!  So I asked her to blog with me… 

Step 3…Word play!  For anyone who doesn’t believe in the power of language, let me set you straight!  Every individual that I have EVER seduced, be it man, woman, or beast, has flipped out over my command of the English language.  I’ve been pen pals first with just about all of them (except the beast of course!)  Turns of my married lady could dish out syntax just as artfully, so things started getting juicy.

Step 4…Sangria!  On this point, I agree with Steamy.  Alcohol never hurts.  On a side note, alcohol also tends to bring out the urge to “experiment” in women.  Anyway, my married lady had enough sangria one night to necessitate me driving her home.  Ka ching!

Step 5…Rinse and repeat!  Seriously, whatever worked the first time, just keep doing it.  Throw in some car sex, a few strip clubs, sex in other people’s homes, a fight over a waitress, a professional spanker, and there you go…one happily seduced married woman!

Piece of cake!  And best of all, her husband knows every detail.  That’s the beauty of being bisexual!

So again searching for info on Counselor Troi costumes and found http://www.leiasmetalbikini.com/ complete with pics of many many women dressed in just that!  A must see for all sexy geeks!

“So what seems to be the trouble between you?” Counselor Troi asked in her soothing and concerned yet unemotional way.

E and I glanced at each other, neither one of us wanted to speak first.  I had to suppress a smirk.  “You’re not taking this seriously at all are you?” E demanded.

“Well come on, we’re married poly amorous bisexual women, having fun and fancy free.  Why do we need to go to counseling anyway?”  I crossed my arms in front of my chest.  I tried to disengage from the both of them but when my gaze landed inadvertantly on Counselor Troi’s deep dark brown eyes, I was drawn in.  My cheeks flushed and I suddenly felt very embarrassed to be in a room with a telepath.  But of course she was, as always, completely unflappable.

“Just trust me on this,” E mumbled between her teeth.  I could barely hear her because my eyes had moved off of Troi’s face and down to her skin tight uniform.  How could anyone get any work done on this space ship with her walking around in that?!  Just the tiniest bit of cleavage was showing but the space age spandex fabric left nothing to the imagination, exposing the perfect curves of each of her voluptous breasts.

Troi looked a little lost for a moment, “Well I’m not quite sure how to begin.  Neither one of you have expressed any problems or things you want to work on in this relationship, yet here you are.”

“Hey, no time like the present for a little tune up right?” E said cheerfully.

“Oh, like the one you got at the garage yesterday?!” I said.

“No, Silver,” she was speaking through her teeth again, “That’s the wrong story, we’re in outer space, remember?”

“Oh, right, sorry, I forget where I am sometimes.  It’s easy to do on this blog.”

Troi intervened before the conversation got any more confusing, “So I’m sensing that in fact there is a bit of jealously between you, even though you proclaim to be poly amorous?”

“Jealous?  Me?  Naaah, I’m not jealous.  Now you’re going to try to talk me into some kind of bullshit monogamy and I won’t stand for it, you hear me?  See, I told  you this was a bad idea.”

The counselor sighed and looked at E for any helpful comments.  “Well, I love Silver but we could stand to spice things up a bit.”  I watched her and she was clearly staring at Troi’s ample hips.  E and I locked eyes and smiled sinisterly.  When we looked back at her, she was the one blushing.

“Come on Deanna,” I said in as sultry a voice as I could muster, “Don’t tell me you and Commander Riker never spiced things up?”

“Well, I, uh,” she stuttered.  I liked that she was finally getting a bit flustered.  E and I reached for each other and started kissing passionately.  My pussy got instantly wet knowing that this unbelivably gorgeous woman was watching us make out.  I expected to hear her protest but when I tore myself away from E, I noticed that Troi had pulled her uniform down to expose those oh, so perfect tits, nipples conspicuously erect.  I feared my heart would leap out of my chest.  (To be continued)

It really is amazing what you’ll stumble across while researching things on the internet…I was looking for information on sexuality in Star Trek and found a link to a Master’s Thesis entitled “One index finger on the mouse scroll bar and the other on my clit” : slash writers’ views on pornography, censorship, feminism and risk.   Wow, that is gutsy…I had trouble getting the document to pull up but Kelly Simca Boyd, my hat’s off to you!

My city happens to be well populated with lesbians, and I’ve discovered one of the marvelous advantages to that is female mechanics!  The first time I pulled into my local Valvoline, I was overjoyed to see that the female mechanics outnumbered the men.  As often happens with me, I then became obsessed with one of them and felt the need to have my car serviced quite frequently.

I pulled in for yet another top off the other day.  She greeted me in Bay 2 with a smile, as always.  Her mechanic’s uniform hugged her shapely form in a snug way.  Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, elongating her rich eyes.

“What can I do for you today, E?” she asked.

“Well, I need you to check my fluids again.  Seems the coolant light keeps coming in…I’m afraid of overheating, you know.”

“In this frigid weather?  You’re not going to overheat…unless you’re driving your engine too hard.  Are you driving it too hard?”

(Gulp)  “I try to maintain a steady speed, but I just can’t seem to get control of my fluids.  Can you PLEASE check them again for me?”

“Ok, but if you show up again next week, I’m going to HAVE to charge you!”

“I understand…but I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you’ve looked under my hood again.”  I pop the hood and she leans into my engine, expertly examining the parts.

“You do look a bit hot.  Let me add some coolant.”

“Whatever you think is necessary,” I look her straight in the eye.  “I trust your skills completely.”

She laughs, and then proceeds to fill my tank.  “God this is sexy, ” I think to myself.  “Way sexier than a bikini clad bimbo lounging on a car.  This chick can actually fix my car…and flirt with me at the same time!”

“Well, you’re all done,” she says, slamming the hood down.  “Drive ‘er easy, and remember you’re due for an oil job soon.  Next week I’m charging your ass for a top off, got that?”

“Yes, mam,” I saluted.  “I’m always happy to pay a professional.”

I drove straight to work and masturbated in the college bathroom…then had my coffee.

During my career as a massage therapist, I had a number of humorous run-ins with male clients who were wanting more than my standard deep tissue session.  My favorite story was when an Orthodox Jewish man tried to bargain with a respected spa for my time.  I was freelancing out of a chic West Side day spa that was owned and operated by a gorgeous German woman…ex-model, in fact.  The spa bordered Union Square Park at the time, so I generally hung out in the park some before going to work.  On this particular day, I was wearing a cute Asian print red sundress that had a slit up my right leg.

As I crossed the park to my building, I noticed the Rabbi following me.   (Actually, I’m not certain he was a rabbi, but he looked like one.  Not your usual brand of stalker to say the least!)  He followed me into the old elevator, all the while checking out my ass and my exposed right leg.  Rather than feeling threatened, I was mildly amused.  He stood all of about 5 foot tall, so his Orthodox robes hung to the ground.  He said nothing as he “examined” me from head to toe, which, in an old Manhattan elevator moving toward the 10th floor, he had plenty of time to do.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I’m thinking to myself.  “All my other therapist friends get hit on by good-looking business men, while I’m stuck in an elevator with a horny rabbi.  How unfair!”

We arrive at the 10th floor.  I march out of the elevator and into the spa, glancing at the receptionist on the way in with a “Get rid of him!” look.  I proceed to round the corner and station myself where I can see the reception desk without being seen.  The receptionist was watching the elevator behind me, probably expecting a giant businessman to waltz into the room.  She had difficulty controlling her laughter when Rabbi walked in.

“Can I help you?”  she asked.

“Yes,” he said, pointing in the direction that I had gone, “what does she do?”

“Nails,”  replied the receptionist.  “She removes corns and bunions…very painful work.”  That was a marvelous lie if ever I heard one!

“Oh,” he relied, looking visibly dejected.  “So she doesn’t do massage?”

“No, I’m afraid not.  If you have dead skin on your feet, though, she be happy to cut it off for you.”

“Uhhh…no thanks.”

At this moment, the statuesque German spa owner came out of the elevator.  Brigette was her name…she stood about 6 foot 3, with nearly five feet of her height being pure leg.  She barely noticed the Rabbi from that far up.

He points toward her now, and asks the receptionist, “What about her?  How much does she cost?”

Needless to say, as soon as Brigette comprehended his meaning, she sent him packing, but not before letting loose a torrent of German swear words.

In a footnote here, I should mention that I’ve also caught the eye of two Hindus and a Buddhist.  Something about me just calls out to men of faith…I’ve never understood why.  I’ve always turned them down gently, though…it just seemed like the Christian thing to do.

“E, I’m sensing conflict in you again.  What seems to be the trouble?”

“Well Counselor, I feel that I’m losing track of my identity.  See, I have my main online identity, which is inherently sexual in nature.  This identity is kept separate from my physical identity…you know, the one that the IRS can track down.  I recently had to create another online identity that was more sanitized for instructional purposes.  I didn’t want my students finding out that E was actually me.  It’s all getting very confusing!”

“I can see where that would be disconcerting.  You long for oneness and peace.”

“Yes, you are so right!  You know everything…I’m convinced of it!”

(laughs)  “No, my dear E…I don’t know everything.  For example, what is this IRS that you speak of?”

“Oh, they’re like the Borg!”

It’s a link, not a true list.   http://tenthingsiloveaboutporn.com

One of our dear readers is off pilfering through the Internet’s free porn, and making a few suggestions.  I’m always grateful to anyone who spares me from bad porn, but this site did remind me that I had vowed to offer my services to the porn world in terms of generating descriptions.  Have any of you ever noticed how BAD porn descriptions are?   “Cute teen sucks fucks swallows cum.”  Really, that says nothing!  Where’s the poetry?  Porn sites are positively littered with these flimsy attempts at sentence structure.  I, for one, will not back Larry Flynt’s request for a porn industry bailout until qualified writers are brought into the industry to generate some good beefy sentences.

Silver, do you think Flynt would hire us as staff writers?