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The truth about my house
Dec. 1st, 2001 02:39 pmOr: A Modest Home-- with apologies to Jonathan Swift
Well, the kids have a separate entrance. That's because if they came in the front door, they'd slip on all the Wesson oil. I'm telling you, there's nothing quite like the sex-toy obstacle course in my living room, either. Sometimes you literally can't move for all the dildos. And I cannot even express how pissed off I got the last time someone left a TENS unit plugged in by the back door. Upset the dog mightily when he attempted to touch it with his cold, wet nose. ZAP! Let's just say that we've asked the lady who likes cattle prods (politely) not to come back. Poor dog.
Yeah, there's nothing like the smell of nookie in the air, 24/7, because that's what it's like to have an Alternative Lifestyle. That's what it's like to live in a polyamorous household. All that bellyaching I have been doing about chores and personality adjustments is really just a smoke screen for what I'm sure you all already have guessed-- all we do is fuck, every day and every night. That's right: it's a constant orgy at my house. And not only do we fuck a lot, we fuck everybody. It's really tough, hiding all that stuff from the kids, but somehow we manage to do it. I mean, I'm pretty sure we do.
Things really start to heat up after 10pm when the oldest child goes to bed. That's when we clear everything off the table and start playing serious games. Of course, the children aren't allowed downstairs, where all the Evil Dungeon Equipment is kept. You see, as depraved as we are, it's not enough just to fuck each other. We have to string each other up and hurt each other, too. Because, you know, only people who are so depraved they are just sick of regular, normal fucking would ever do such a thing.
I can't remember the last time two people had sex in the missionary position at my house. It's considered taboo. People started getting that message when we instituted a $10.00 fine for every time a male-female couple was found having missionary-position sex. This kind of activity is allowable only if there are other people, anal pentration, or animals involved. Strap-ons, of course, are allowable for two women, but we really prefer to see some nipple clamps or something, just to dress up the girl on the bottom.
And you thought when I used the word "clusterfuck" I was talking about scheduling? Au contraire. No, no, no; that's a house term for when the action is so confusing, you really can't tell who's cumming on whom.
It's not enough that there are four cats and a dog in this house; one of our housemates is pursuing her life's work of breeding a hamster both small and sleek enough to fit properly, and mentally conditioned to want to crawl up someone's ass. Because, of course, we'd hate to abuse an innocent animal. It just doesn't feel right to us. That's why we keep plenty of canned tuna and wet dogfood on hand for when our guests want to play with our pets.
Of course, we don't always have guests over, but trust me; the action is just as good when it's just the people who live here on a day-to-day basis. I can't count the number of times I've walked in after a long day of work and had to engage in obligatory oral sex before so much as divesting myself of my car keys.
And the lube bills! You would not believe how much we spend on lube and contraceptives! It's a line-item in our monthly budget to which everyone must contribute. Of course, we always practice safe sex at my house. If run out of condoms before the next bulk shipment arrives, whoever is playing errandslave that day has five minutes to make it to the convenience store and back. If she's late, guess who gets to be on the bottom? Of course, we've had to let a couple of errandslaves go because they were intentionally late whenever this duty fell to them.
One thing I do complain about for real is that I can never keep vegetables in the house. Cucumbers, carrots, even potatoes, are constantly being used for nefarious lesbian dabauchery or anal play. Some people are just too good for plastic. But the next time I walk into my bedroom and find that an entire box of popsicles has been melted -- on someone besides me, I'm going to go ballistic!
We have such an interesting schedule at my house. All day long, my housemates who are at home fuck themselves silly and get the house nice and lubed up for the rest of us. Then, when everyone else gets home, it's pretty much a free for all. Well, except for Tuesday nights, which are twofers-- we fine everyone who doesn't fuck at least two people after dinner. Wednesday nights are our marathon-- in order to win the weekly poll, you have to fuck every single other housemate, and all their guests, too-- That time one of our housemates brought an entire college track team in was a real marathon!
You might be thinking that I spend most of my time being smug, and you'd be right. I mean, constant sex, lots of kinky alterations, and absolutely no guilt. We look down on everyone who doesn't live like we do, because, after all, we're completely perverted and debauched, and we don't care that we're all going to hell-- why not drag everyone else we know, hell, everyone else on earth down with us?
So, next time you're wondering why I haven't posted in awhile, check your calendar. It's probably Wednesday night.
In case you haven't figured it out, my evil, twisted tongue is firmly in my depraved, hellbound cheek.
Well, the kids have a separate entrance. That's because if they came in the front door, they'd slip on all the Wesson oil. I'm telling you, there's nothing quite like the sex-toy obstacle course in my living room, either. Sometimes you literally can't move for all the dildos. And I cannot even express how pissed off I got the last time someone left a TENS unit plugged in by the back door. Upset the dog mightily when he attempted to touch it with his cold, wet nose. ZAP! Let's just say that we've asked the lady who likes cattle prods (politely) not to come back. Poor dog.
Yeah, there's nothing like the smell of nookie in the air, 24/7, because that's what it's like to have an Alternative Lifestyle. That's what it's like to live in a polyamorous household. All that bellyaching I have been doing about chores and personality adjustments is really just a smoke screen for what I'm sure you all already have guessed-- all we do is fuck, every day and every night. That's right: it's a constant orgy at my house. And not only do we fuck a lot, we fuck everybody. It's really tough, hiding all that stuff from the kids, but somehow we manage to do it. I mean, I'm pretty sure we do.
Things really start to heat up after 10pm when the oldest child goes to bed. That's when we clear everything off the table and start playing serious games. Of course, the children aren't allowed downstairs, where all the Evil Dungeon Equipment is kept. You see, as depraved as we are, it's not enough just to fuck each other. We have to string each other up and hurt each other, too. Because, you know, only people who are so depraved they are just sick of regular, normal fucking would ever do such a thing.
I can't remember the last time two people had sex in the missionary position at my house. It's considered taboo. People started getting that message when we instituted a $10.00 fine for every time a male-female couple was found having missionary-position sex. This kind of activity is allowable only if there are other people, anal pentration, or animals involved. Strap-ons, of course, are allowable for two women, but we really prefer to see some nipple clamps or something, just to dress up the girl on the bottom.
And you thought when I used the word "clusterfuck" I was talking about scheduling? Au contraire. No, no, no; that's a house term for when the action is so confusing, you really can't tell who's cumming on whom.
It's not enough that there are four cats and a dog in this house; one of our housemates is pursuing her life's work of breeding a hamster both small and sleek enough to fit properly, and mentally conditioned to want to crawl up someone's ass. Because, of course, we'd hate to abuse an innocent animal. It just doesn't feel right to us. That's why we keep plenty of canned tuna and wet dogfood on hand for when our guests want to play with our pets.
Of course, we don't always have guests over, but trust me; the action is just as good when it's just the people who live here on a day-to-day basis. I can't count the number of times I've walked in after a long day of work and had to engage in obligatory oral sex before so much as divesting myself of my car keys.
And the lube bills! You would not believe how much we spend on lube and contraceptives! It's a line-item in our monthly budget to which everyone must contribute. Of course, we always practice safe sex at my house. If run out of condoms before the next bulk shipment arrives, whoever is playing errandslave that day has five minutes to make it to the convenience store and back. If she's late, guess who gets to be on the bottom? Of course, we've had to let a couple of errandslaves go because they were intentionally late whenever this duty fell to them.
One thing I do complain about for real is that I can never keep vegetables in the house. Cucumbers, carrots, even potatoes, are constantly being used for nefarious lesbian dabauchery or anal play. Some people are just too good for plastic. But the next time I walk into my bedroom and find that an entire box of popsicles has been melted -- on someone besides me, I'm going to go ballistic!
We have such an interesting schedule at my house. All day long, my housemates who are at home fuck themselves silly and get the house nice and lubed up for the rest of us. Then, when everyone else gets home, it's pretty much a free for all. Well, except for Tuesday nights, which are twofers-- we fine everyone who doesn't fuck at least two people after dinner. Wednesday nights are our marathon-- in order to win the weekly poll, you have to fuck every single other housemate, and all their guests, too-- That time one of our housemates brought an entire college track team in was a real marathon!
You might be thinking that I spend most of my time being smug, and you'd be right. I mean, constant sex, lots of kinky alterations, and absolutely no guilt. We look down on everyone who doesn't live like we do, because, after all, we're completely perverted and debauched, and we don't care that we're all going to hell-- why not drag everyone else we know, hell, everyone else on earth down with us?
So, next time you're wondering why I haven't posted in awhile, check your calendar. It's probably Wednesday night.
In case you haven't figured it out, my evil, twisted tongue is firmly in my depraved, hellbound cheek.
