Arouse your body AND your
mind!
I was a member of Sssh.com,
and I really enjoyed the experience. This is a beautifully designed
site, and the pictures are all exquisitely photographed. The hunks are
gorgeous, and the couples pictorials are very sensual and tasteful.
And the stories are great, they really got me hot. There's also heaps
and heaps of articles which I found to be informative and enjoyable.
If you want to
find out more about what's inside this wonderful site, click here.
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From
Reynaldo's Diary November 14th, 1933
This place is cold.
I suspect my safari suit may be a little less useful than I
had anticipated. Someone has remarked that it is cold enough
to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. I didn't know monkeys
were indigenous to the British Isles. You learn something every
day.
I have been tipped
off that the legendary clitoris is located somewhere in the
Cornwall. I set off, travelling through the marvellous Autumn
countryside by rail. At one point we pass two farmers squashing
down wheat with large flat pieces of metal. I ask a man beside
me if the patterns they are making have anything to do with
the clitoris. His answer is cryptic. "Yeah, Alpha Clitauri,
where all them aliens live," he says.
At lunch I stop
for bread, cheese and beer at a local pub. It is delicious,
and I wolf it down hungrily. The barmaid brings me another beer;
it is home brewed and tastes magnificent.
"You're thirsty," says the barmaid. "What is
it that brings you here?"
"I'm on a quest to find the clitoris," I reply, and
she raises her eyebrows.
"Well then, the next one's on me. Any man who deliberately
goes out to find the clitoris deserves a free beer. You'll need
it."
The British are
known for their hospitality and interest in all things scientific.
The sun is setting
as I near my destination. John Thomas is well known in these
parts for collecting all sorts of things, from automobiles to
new fangled wirelesses. He's a jovial fellow; the whole time
I was there he seemed to be chortling with laughter. Striding
in gumboots, he leads me down through green, cow-patted pasture
to his large back shed.
"Here it is!"
he cries, throwing open the doors. Inside lay a huge, cobwebbed
piece of machinery - a steam driven threshing machine. "I
don't use it much no more, we don't grow grain, just cows."
I was confused for a moment, until I moved close and read the
brand name: Klee-Taurus - Unsurpassed since 1897.
Once again, I was
disappointed. I thanked the farmer and prepared to look elsewhere
for the clitoris. Perhaps Australia
would hold the treasure I sought.
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