Sex Manual every girl must read! A memoir about sex lessons and men

What every woman must know about sex, written in one scandalously entertaining novel:

cover lilm

Lessons in Lovemaking reads like a sex diary, written in the comedic voice of a Tina Fey and reminiscent of comedienne Chelsea Handler’s Horizontal Life: One Night StandsLessons in Lovemaking is an anthology of funny sex stories, spilling the dirt on hook-ups, boyfriends and their performance in the bedroom. You’ll giggle at every turn of the page.

The best part is the 62 Rules of Sex, compiled as “lessons learned” from our heroine’s many sexual accidents.

Chapter Previews:


Chapter 1 – Always a dildo, never a man

Chapter 2 – Swallow your pride + (Taste of Come)

Chapter 3 – Jalen’s Fetishes + (Men and Vibrators)

Chapter 4 – Good Morning Blow Job

Chapter 5 – Sex Kitten 

Chapter 6 – Heartbreaker, Jawbreaker (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)

Chapter 7 – Guys have G-spots? (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)

Chapter 8 – The Kennedy Curse: Poison Prick

Chapter 9 – Hot and Wet Shower Sex 

Chapter 10 – Fanny Got Fingered (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)

Chapter 11 – Uncut and Unrated + The Condom Quest

Chapter 12 – Smokin’ Weed, Smokin’ Sex

Chapter 13 – Fat Fuck

Chapter 14 – Nine Inches In 

Chapter 15 – Rough Rider (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)

Chapter 16 – Sex Tape 

Chapter 17 – He Put A Ring On It!

Chapter 18 – Pill Poppers Can’t Pop Boners (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)

Chapter 19 – Happy Ending (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)

Chapter 20 – Morning After (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)

Epilogue (available in Lessons in Lovemaking)


What every woman should know about sex is all in this book! A novel you CANNOT put down, Lessons in Lovemaking does not spare the dirty details about the Dirty Deed. If you like Sex and the City and Bridget Jones, you’d love this uproariously funny and provocative read.

Lessons in Lovemaking” is available on Amazon here.

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Hello, friends! This blog is not over, just moved to:

New SEX DIARY updates and more hilarious sexual faux pas await you there!

Penis STUCK in vagina! (and introducing: the new G-spot)

An excerpt from “Lessons in Lovemaking: The Novel”  – available on Amazon here.

I made the mistake of telling Bob I was a dildo virgin. He asked me incredulously, “You’ve never had a dildo in you?” Then Bob asked for one to break me in with. He says he needs the dildo to loosen me up— in every sense of the word, “loosen”— otherwise, I would be too tight for sex.

When Bob inserted the dildo and simulated penetrative sex, moving it and out slowly, I was so turned on, my vaginal walls started clenching in arousal. The 7-11 Big Gulp got nothing on my naughty bits the way it swallowed that dildo whole. My walls were all over the dildo like a Stage-5 Clinger. Call my vagina “Spock.” Because it can definitely Kling-on.

That dildo had everything I wanted in a penis: thick girth, six inches long. If blind masseurs give deep-tissue massage, dildos gives the best deep orgasms. But this is all because Bob knew where to hit it deep – at the fornix, just outside the cervix.

I’m telling you, the anterior fornix is the new G-spot. They even named it “fornix” (after “fornication”) because it’s all you need to orgasm. And Bob knows how to work the fornix – he never stabs it, he just caresses it with his penis like, “Sup, darling?” And when he hits it, my whole body arches up like a bridge, you could fit three Norwegian trolls under my curved back.

But when Bob tried to pull out the dildo, his face suddenly turned so white, paler than an albino butt crack in a sunless winter. He panicked and said, “I can’t move it, it’s stuck!” He tried pulling out the dildo like it’s the Excalibur. He withdrew slowly, millimeter by millimeter, but it was too snug in my snatch. Bob said, “Stop doing Kellog’s!” 

My vagina isn’t cereal, though. If you meant the squeezing, it’s called Kegels— not Kellogg’s. So I relaxed my tight walls and eventually the vaginal vice-grip relented.

When it was time for sex, Bob dropped his boxers. Lord, his trouser snake was an anaconda. His manhood was not particularly long, but it was thick like the neck of a fat baby. Bob tried pushing into me, but there was no way it would fit. It’s like putting a conduit pipe through the eye of a needle. I’d need more practice with a dildo before I could fit that monstrosity of a manhood. I didn’t want to get Prolapse of the Pussy from that basilisk of a boner, so that was that. 

I did not want Bob to force it in. There’s nothing more embarrassing than a bloody hot-pocket. I want sex to look like a Zalman King love scene, not a CSI crime scene. So I decided to spare Bob the bloody gore, and do my dildo dilations in my own personal time instead. After all, my pussy deserves her privacy.


If you stay too long too deep, without a doubt-

The vag will squeeze it until you can’t pull out.

To prevent getting your dick stuck, keep it moving in n’ out,

Especially if your manhood is thick and stout.


For more Rules of Sex and entertaining sex stories, read “Lessons in Lovemaking” – available on Amazon here.

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How do you eat out a hairy unshaved vagina?


Savanna’s one wild woman – hair like a lioness, body of a goddess. Her brand of sexy is savage, she’s the kind of woman that bites when she kisses and screams when she comes.

I watch her undress. Her thong’s so tiny, I could see her labia. I want nothing else but to kiss that pillowy mound of sex, so I put my lips to her pussy lips. But up close, the vaginal view is quite different: I see pubic hair peeking out of her thong like spider legs crawling beneath the lace. My dick doesn’t care, though. So what if she lets her pubes run wild? It’s part of her savage appeal.

I slip her thong off.

Now, I’ve seen many a vagina, but this one is a straight-up sea urchin – with spiky pubes sticking out in all directions. Hemophiliacs, stay away – you could hemorrhage from the thorns on this untrimmed bush. But, a pussy is a pussy – even if it looks like it’s giving birth to a Furby. So I brave the bushy beaver.

“Hope you don’t mind, I don’t shave,” she says. “If I do, it itches more.” Oh, so having a Sasquatch snatch doesn’t make it itchy? To itch his own, I guess.

Savannah tells me to play with her down there. Sure, if I can find your clit. So I part with my hands the lush forestation of her pubes. She complains that I’m taking too long finding my way downtown. Well, forgive me, it’s a little difficult looking for clit when it’s buried in pubic tumbleweed. Truth is, I took so long because I was searching for pubic lice. See, crabs like dark, hairy environments and Savannah’s bush was prime real estate for crotch crustaceans.

When I find no crabs, I move on to the clit. I pull back the curtains of her pubes – fuck, they crunch when you touch them. Then she pushes my head down to lick her clit. Man, her bush feels like steel wool against my tongue. My tongue was so itchy licking her, I wanted to drink Calamine lotion. So I just licked and licked until rug burn replaced the itch. She says, “Enough or I’ll pee,” so I stop. Then she pulls me in for a kiss.

Hold up, wait a minute. I was just licking her bearded beaver, we can’t possibly kiss! But she pulls me in, and I literally did not have a say because she shuts me up with a tongue lashing – her tongue twisting around mine. Talk about a French kiss with a twist.

Mid-kiss, she pulls away. “What’s that? Open your mouth,” she says. Then she plucks a singular strand from between my teeth. “Oh, just a piece of floss,” she says, throwing it aside. Plot twist, though: I don’t floss. I can’t fit my hand in my mouth, let alone maneuver dental string between my molars. So that thing she yanked from my teeth could have been one thing and one thing only: one of the barb wires she calls her pubic hair.

You know what, I need to get my dick inside her now. My boner dies the more I think I just flossed with pubes. Get my dick in a hot vagina and everything is forgotten. So while she waits for me to rip the condom sachet, she grabs my dick and slaps it on her pussy. But girl, you ain’t slick – I know you’re not just spanking your naughty vag! You’re scratching your hairy hoo-ha with my penis. And damn did that prickly pussy itch like chicken pox. Sure gives a whole new meaning to “Tickle my pickle.”

But you know what, I’m not complaining. At the end of the day, I got pussy – hairy, King Kong cooter type of pussy. Yeah, it itches like crabs, but put a condom on and you won’t feel it pricking your prick. Because guess what, sex with Hairy Scary is still better than your right hand. I’ll take a bearded beaverbush over masturbation any damn day.

Sex rule no. 35:

If a lady expects oral

Maintain pubic hygiene (vaginal)

You don’t have to shave, maybe just trim?

Just keep the pubic shrubbery tamed for him

So his tongue won’t get lost in the pubic forest

And still locate the site of the elusive clitoris.

But guys, if she’s unshaved, don’t be a dick!

Wear a condom so her pubes don’t prick your prick.

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When FACIAL really means come on your face

An excerpt from “Lessons in Lovemaking: The Novel”  – available on Amazon here.

When it comes down to it— and his pants do come down— pardon my French, but Kennedy is packing one pretty penis. Lay that handsome man-hood on me, pretty please. Kennedy’s member is clean-shaven and silken. There’s no hair growing up the length and the shaft is satin-smooth. He probably masturbates with Nivea because it’s so soft and supple.

Gorgeous as it is, his manhood is limp. It needs lip service. In the middle of the blow job, Kennedy says he wants to give me a facial. Aw, how thoughtful. No man’s ever given me a pampering facial before.

I ask him, “Are we going to a spa? When do I get my facial?”

“Right now,” he says, looking like he’s just about to ejaculate. I know that not because I have semen radar, but because he said “Coming soon” more times than a movie trailer.

I see Kennedy aiming his manhood at my face, his one-eyed snake staring me down. Kaboom! Next thing I know, I have his man essence all over my cheeks. 

Do I look like a uterus to you? “Why are you blowing your load on my face?”

Kennedy says, “I asked permission!”

“I agreed to be slimed with semen?” 

He says, “You wanted a facial.” 

A sea kelp mask, yes, but not Crême de Sperm.

But something unexpected happens. His hot load on my cheek feels sinfully sexy– the wet sear of it against my skin, ooh! I don’t know why, but it gets my lady parts gushing an avalanche of baby-making nectar. My flesh wants it so badly, I find myself saying to Kennedy, “Come on my face.”

Just as he hears those words, his member explodes another spurt, like shaken champagne on New Years Eve. Kennedy ejaculates in thick ropes of semen. I’m not talking ordinary twine, I’m talking industrial-grade nautical rope. Grab me a poncho because it’s raining jizz lassos, whipping about in a wild semen rodeo.

I open my eyes to see if the jizz blitz is over. Not quite. Kennedy’s pistol penis shoots again, right into my left eye. Holy scrotes, it burns! I think I’ve lost my vision. All I can hear is the sizzle of my burning eye. Mind your aim there, Sergeant Cumblaster, you’ve blinded me with semen.

When I blink my eyes open, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Goodness, did I ever scare myself with my own reflection. My eyes are redder than a subway rodent. My pupils look like they’re strung out on acid. His jizz might as well have been acid. Because it burns like cider. That’ll teach me. Next time I’m caught in a hail of jizz, I’m wearing goggles. Or else I’ll end up a semen cyclops. Sex Rule Number 22:

When he orgasms, be wise.

Cover both of your eyes. 

Or else your eyes turn bloodshot,

When he jizzes you a cum shot.

But it’s not over. There’s more to come, so to speak. How much ejaculate can a man possibly have? Kennedy says he hasn’t masturbated in days, so he has a lot of “pent-up energy.” Oh, I bet he does, all bottled up in his balls.

Kennedy keeps shooting boatloads of ejaculate like silly string at the NBA finals. Then he squirts right into my good eye. My mouth drops open upon contact. Kennedy must have assumed I want his hot silly string on my tongue because suddenly he just lays it on thick, layer upon layer, until his silly string semen looked like raw funnel cake in my mouth.

To be continued…

For more Rules of Sex and entertaining sex stories, read “Lessons in Lovemaking” – available on Amazon here.

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Vaginas fart? (How to prevent Queefing)


I had sex with a hot science teacher, “Miss Sutherland.” She had me all over her anatomy in an all-nighter of LOUD sex. I mean her body made sounds I didn’t even know a woman could make down there

It all started when I made love to her in missionary position. Then she says I’m not hitting it deep enough. So I flip her over to doggy style – a short dick’s go-to position to reach in deeper. After several solid thrusts, I needed to pause my pelvis, otherwise I’ll need a hip replacement. While I rest, I pull all the way out, then I hear this “Prrrfft!” sound coming from her lady bits. It sounded like trumpets announcing the arrival of a king. Wait, did she just fart on my dick?

But she backs up on my boner, and tells me, “Don’t stop fucking!” Immediately the fart was out of my mind, I’m back to thrusting. Then she says, “Get in deeper!” If some pizzas are made deep-dish, some women just have deep-set vaginas that want far-reaching cocks. So listen up short dicks, if there’s one thing a deep vag likes, it’s the slow slide-out of a hard boner. It tricks her into thinking you’re longer than you are.

So I withdraw all the way out. Suddenly, “Prrpppt!” There’s that sound again. I fan my nose on instinct, but surprisingly it didn’t smell. She angrily complains why I stopped thrusting. Sorry, I was busy thinking where the trombone of farts is coming from.

But she backs up on it, fucking herself on my boner. I’m distracted. Fuck it, no fart will stand in the way of my orgasm, so I get back to thrusting. I work my crotch like I got a pelvis like Elvis. I was not loving her tender with my hip action.

I’m tired from pounding the puss. I pull out again just to tease her, make her want it more. You know what Shakespeare says: Absence makes the vagina grow fonder. And when I pull out, her vag sounded again, “PRRRUP!” Her pussy must be hosting a jazz concert because it sounded like a tuba now.

This has happened enough times for me to notice she only farts when I pull out. Whenever I withdraw, the French horn on her fanny sounds like a referee’s whistle. I ask her, “Are you OK, do you need Gas-X?”

Miss Sutherland said she’s not farting – she’s queefing. What? Is that Queen Latifah’s rapper name? She says the sound is “a queef, a vaginal fart.” Pardon me, Queefer Sutherland, are you telling me that vaginas fart?

She goes into science teacher mode and says it’s normal – vaginal farts are just air trapped in there after consecutive thrusting. Once the guy withdraws, air pressure in the vagina is released in the form of “Flatulence of the Fanny.” (Nice. Sounds like porn filmed in London.)

I test the hypothesis, I thrust and really pack the air in there. And when I pull out, I swear she lets ‘er rip! The pussy trombone sounds off each time I withdraw. Queefer Sutherland was right. Pussies do fart.

Phew, so it’s just a little vag burp – not an ass fart. It’s rather amusing, though. So I do it again, thrusting and withdrawing to hear the queefs. I could play Name That Tune with her vag burps… Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-prrpt!

Sex Rule #33

When couples have sex in the doggy position

It causes vaginal flatulence – like a whoopee cushion

But it’s not a fart! It’s not gas from the ass

Just air pressure in the vag from thrusting too fast

Good news is “queefs” happen only during doggy

So avoid pussy burps by switching to missionary.

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I got bigger breasts without surgery


Oh my God, I have bigger boobs and I didn’t even have a boob job. It’s all because of my new birth control – apparently they give you big bazongas. I’m like two cup sizes bigger. And now that I’m Pam Anderson, I can finally give a proper tit fuck! Yes! Hurray for my hooters.

Having boobs is important to me because once, a guy tried to tit-fuck me and it didn’t work, thanks to my Negative-A cup breasts. That night, my vag was already sensitive, but he still needed to stick it into something to come. I could’ve sucked him off, but I had a sore throat and he didn’t want his dick to catch a cold. He did pitch anal, but I wasn’t having it – I just had a burrito. Nobody does anal after having Mexican, you just don’t.

So he attempts the next best thing: he asks if he can thrust into my ass cheeks. Sure, as long as there’s no surprise buttsex – I’m just not drunk enough for backdoor boinking. So with my permission, he wedges his member between my ass cheeks, smothering his sausage in my buns of steel like a Fourth of July hotdog. Problem was, I just didn’t have enough badonkadonk back there. He probably thought my ass was the size of Kim Kardashian’s. Yeah, I got Kim’s ass – but only her left butt cheek. Half her ass was my entire ass, and it wasn’t enough.

So what’s left to penetrate? No vag, no oral, no anal, no butt cleavage. But wait, I had another cleavage up top: my tits. My breasts were his only hope. Fingers crossed, I’m counting on you, titties! All he needs to do now is thrust into my cleavage.

I push my breasts together for him, but left-tit and right-tit weren’t cooperating – they wouldn’t even touch. I kept pushing my mammaries together, but my tits were as flat as a Caucasian buttock. I pushed and pushed them together, it looked like I was playing accordion with my breasts. Eventually he gives up. I bet he was freaked out by my nipples, staring into his soul like two eyes mocking him for even trying to have sex with a flat chest.

But you know what, I’m not flat anymore. I have boobs that can hug around a dick in an embrace of comfort and warmth. So in those times that my vag or mouth or butt cheeks are indisposed, we have options. Now I can’t wait to make those cleavage hotdogs. Happy 4th of July.

Sex Rule No. 32

Don’t give a tit fuck if you don’t have the breasts for it

If you’re flat-chested, he’s better off sticking it into an armpit

But if you want bigger breasts without surgery, it’s possible

Just go to the doctor and get some birth control

Your cup size will increase, so you’re fuller up top,

And you don’t have to squeeze your boobs in a push-up

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How long before a man gets hard for Round 2 of sex


“Bunny” is 19, blonde, energetic and hot. And like a rabbit in heat, Bunny wants to mate every second of the day. We just finished having sex and she’s on me again, demanding Round 2 like I serve second helpings of dick. I’m not a dick buffet, alright? You can’t just have it whenever you want it – because after ejaculation, I’m just out of jizz and no penis can stay hard without it. Bunny didn’t seem to understand that there’s a refractory period after sex when men have to wait out half an hour before we can get it back up. Especially if you’re all jizzed out.

I tell her I need 20 minutes before I’m up and running again. And she counts me down on her iPhone timer, because God forbid my boner’s one minute late to her sex marathon. We’re not all Energizer bunnies, alright? My dick just needs a time-out – put me in the corner, let my dick face the wall, I don’t care, just leave my dick alone for 20 minutes.

Impatient as she is young, just 10 minutes in, Bunny grabs my limp dick and puts it back inside her. Sweet baby Jesus of mercy! I was wincing in pain. I was still raw down there and she’s forcing my flaccid fuckstick in her. Nuh-uh, Bunny. I’m no DQ treat – I don’t serve my dick soft-serve. I never give half-assed fucks, and I’m sure as hell not giving her a half-hard dick, so I pull out of her.

But Bunny kept demanding more sex. She tries to provoke me, goad me into fucking her. She starts talking like some mafia tough guy, sounding like a female Al Pacino, and she says “What, you ran out of jizz?” No shit, my dick’s out of Diesel, my balls are running on empty, so yeah I’m out of jizz. What do you think will get it back up, will power? Deepak Chopra? Divine intervention? What needs intervention is this girl’s libido. Her sex drive is on overdrive.

Bunny kept touching my dick, trying to get me hard again. I kept moving it away from her. I said, “Don’t touch, it’s sensitive. I just came, leave it alone.” She snapped, “Oh, you wanna be alone? Fine!” And Bunny hopped off the bed. I panicked and said, “Wait! I’ll be hard in 10 minutes, ok 5!” But it was too late, Bunny hopped all the way out the door and left me and my soft-serve dick.

Sex Rule # 31

After sex, give the penis some time to recover,

Guys need to refill before we can start all over.

Because it’s still soft and sensitive to touch,

A little tug and pull can be a bit much.

In 20 minutes though, c’mon, hop on my cock,

And again for Round 2, I’ll be hard as a rock.

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Where is the prostate? (How to have a mind-blowing prostate orgasm)


Guys have G-spots, too. It’s called the prostate. I asked my FWB “Mr. Planters” if prostates really give the best orgasms. He says, “Sure, if you can find it.” He came close to finding it, but he gets lost in his own ass. The fact that the prostate is elusive challenges me to look for it because I just aspire to be that girl that knows how to give P-spot orgasms. It’s my life goal. But Mr. Planters warns me it’s deep in the anal canal. So what? I’ll wear a glove. “Who are you, Michael Jackson?” said Mr. Planters. “Use a finger cot. They’re condoms for fingers.”

But first, Mr. Planters checks if I got a manicure. Of course, I have oval nails filed into rounded corners – perfect for fingering. So after wearing a finger cot, lubing it up, and massaging his taint so he’s relaxed, I flex my tiniest finger, then I play Pinky Swears with his ass hole. Now to find P-spot.

I feel around for his prostate, but I was as blind as Stevie Wonder in there. “Move past the muscle ring,” he says. But I can’t reach that deep, my pinky’s too short. So I switch to the middle finger – the dirty finger that swears “Up yours!” is literally up a butt right now. I ask if he’s feeling anything. “No! You’re touching the wrong area,” says Mr. Planters, lying on his back. “Fingers face up!” Bless Mr. Planters, my personal Ass Compass, guiding my path.

What am I feeling for, though? “The Walnut!” he says. A what-nut? This is not Whole Foods, I ain’t looking for no damn walnuts in your ass. But that’s what the prostate feels like – a hard lump the size of a nut.

Mr Planters: 20130627-231219.jpg

I feel around, but I don’t feel walnuts. Mr. Planters says, “I need to be hard so the prostate’s more pronounced.” So I work that dick like an Atari joystick. When he got hard, I feel something in there. I touch it. Is it working? He says, “No, it just makes me want to pee.” I’m no master at masturbation, but I know once you feel like pissing, you’re onto something. I tap it experimentally and he gasps. I’ve found it! So I tap the hard rubbery spot – my finger went all Fred Astair on that prostate, tap-dancing all over his erotic walnut.

He looked like he was gonna moan in ecstasy, but he says, “My prostate’s no Nintendo DS, why are you tapping! Stroke it.” So I finger it, sliding in and out. Mr. Planters is losing his mind, moaning and bossing me around like a prostate bitch, “Yes! Fuck that dirty walnut!” And I stroked his prostate so much that CSI would find my fingerprints all up in that walnut.

Mr. Planters was grunting from arousal. I know he’s coming hard because he’s screaming like a Linkin Park song. Tickling his ass walnut had him shooting jizz like Silly String out of a spray can. With his demon sex voice, he rasps, “This is the best orgaga-gaah-” He couldn’t even talk, he was choking on his words while he came from a prostate climax. It was nuts.

Sex rule # 30

To give him a prostate orgasm, slide a finger past the ringed muscle

When the prostate’s hard, you’ll feel it deep in his Anal Tunnel.

Like true love, you know you found it when you feel it

Because the prostate’s texture is very different

Stroke it, pull out, but keep it coming

Finger the P-spot to get him jizzing.

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How to make blowjobs taste better


“Betty” had a knack for sweet things. When she saw my boner, she wanted to taste it right away. But I was only semi-hard. She said she’ll get it fully erect and takes a lick of my crotch creamsicle. But then she makes a face of distaste and says my dick tastes “soapy.” Well, excuse me for washing my junk, I just don’t want it to reek of spunk.

So Betty puts a flavored condom over my dick to cover the taste. But when she starts licking, I just don’t feel enough tongue because of the condom. After a while she looks up at me and asks why I’m not hard yet. I said I’m not feeling her tongue as much, so she removes the condom. I ask, “what about the taste?” Betty says she can make me taste good. How? Body chocolate. Well then, Betty Crocker, make my dick taste like dessert.

Betty whips out this tub of body chocolate she says is from a sex shop, takes a mini brush and paints the fudge over my dick. She says, “Now you have a chocolate dick – not as big as real ones, though.” I know I’m more of a bite-sized eclair than a long john donut. I get it.

She starts licking my Chocolate Banana, then stuffs her mouth with it, her tongue underneath my dick. Her tongue’s slick, hot, very hot – I feel it all without the condom. Her tongue felt so good, my dick twitched and twitched like it was having an epileptic seizure (Lord knows my dick was foaming in the mouth… so to speak, ahem). I feel her throat tightening the more I twitch. Then suddenly I notice a change in texture down there, as if my dick was dipped in a bowl of Sloppy Joe.

I look down and see my chocolate-frosted cock now covered in chunks of indigested food. Yep, there’s puke on my penis, Betty upchuck’d on my junk. I even see bits of an un-chewed hotdog. Come on! Did my dick really taste that bad? Sure it tastes like a musty combo of Irish Spring and ball sweat, but you didn’t have to vomit on it. I let Betty Crocker spread fudge on my dick like I had Nutella on my nuts, and this is what I get? Screw this, Betty Puker.

While I cleaned up with my boxer shorts, she blamed it on the body chocolate. She said it tasted nasty to begin with, and when my boner twitched in her mouth, the jerk and the fudge triggered her gag. I said sorry, I can’t control my dick – sometimes it twitches like it has Tourette’s – but she insists it’s the body chocolate. She says it used to taste good, but it’s gone sour. She checks the label and sees it’s expired. Apparently, these things go bad?

How did I go from Dessert Dick to Mr. Chunks-on-my-Junk? I should’ve stuck to the flavored condom – can’t feel the BJ, but at least you don’t get puke on your penis.

Sex Rule No. 29:

If using body chocolate on somebody,

Always check the date of expiry.

Check the label for the “best before” date,

Before your partner starts to fellate.

And when your getting blown, don’t shove it too far,

If she’s nauseous from the flavor, she might just barf.

Remember the cardinal rule of ORAL sex:

Deep-throating too much triggers the gag reflex.

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