Need Wood

Need Wood

Hey Woody!

So I finally get my boyfriend to swallow my c-m and what comes out during the moment of truth?  Urine.

Needless to say, he’s furious.  He’s convinced that I just wanted to humiliate him.  What happened?

–  Pissed off

Dear Pissed off:

Maybe he’ll calm down when he hears there’s a medical explanation.  See, the  “parasympathetic” nervous system is in charge of erections while the “sympathetic” nerve system is in charge of both ejaculation and urination.

Sometimes the wires get crossed and your body doesn’t know whether to s–t or go blind, so it urinates instead of ejaculating.

Get your nervous system checked out.  If there’s trouble the neurologist might put you on something like Ditropan or Detrol to quiet down an overactive bladder.

Bring a sample of your macho gazpacho to the neurologist.  It’s possible that the load your boyfriend swallowed was a mix of urine and semen, which would indicate something different.

Meantime, I’d hold off on any sexual requests.  Given your crossed wiring, there’s no telling what would come out if you asked your boyfriend for a r-mj-b.

Hey Woody!

Gotta get something off my chest and I hope you agree with me:

Buying porn that shows unsafe sex is like subsidizing an early death for the porn stars in the film and teaches the people watching that rubberless f–king is okay.  Don’t you think we should boycott bareback p-rn?

—  Disgusted in Houston

Dear Disgusted:

What is this, a letter from GLAAD complaining about the media’s unfair and inaccurate portrayals of gay d–k?

Go sell crazy somewhere else; we’re all stocked up here.  If I had it my way condoms wouldn’t be allowed in p-rn studios.  When I plunk down $70 for a video I want to buy my fantasy, not your propaganda.

I don’t buy your premise that p-rn is an educational tool.  What, I need to learn how to say “You like that a–, don’t you?”

Please.  I already know the answer’s yes.

P-rn isn’t educational for anybody except losers like you.  For the rest of us it’s just one big f–king fantasy.

Watching two guys (okay, three.  Oh, alright, four.) f–king with rubbers is like the head of GLAAD hitting the stop button on my iPhone, interrupting my fantasy and moralizing me for having the wrong fantasies.

F–k that.  And you.  Rubbers suck, haven’t you heard?  It’s enough that I wear them in real sex, I’ll be damned if I’m going to have people tell me I have to wear them in my fantasies.

And this business that I should care about the welfare of the p-rn “stars” (hey, I give great head –how come nobody calls me a “star”) is a crock of s–t.  That’s like saying I should be concerned for the stunt men in an action flick because some of them get killed or injured.  Yes, it’s a shame, but no one forced them to take the risk.

Same with the stunt c–ks.  No one held them at gunpoint and threatened them to f–k without a rubber.  As far as I know Chi Chi LaRue isn’t armed with anything except her blubber.

If you want to limit your p-rn to GLAAD-approved sanitation codes, be my guest, but leave the rest of us alone.