I can think of two very real benefits to sado-masochism, one for each side of the
coin. They both occur in moments of extreme tiredness, or laziness - which are both ripping me apart at the moment.
Masochists first, cos it's less funny. I don't know about you (well, I know about some of you, you sick puppies) but there are
times in my life (at the moment, every waking one) when I just want to lie back and close my eyes, do the whole Johnny Got His
Gun thing and fade. But sex is sex. An orgasm is an orgasm. So... if I could be chained to the ceiling, gagged, and blindfolded, so no real response is required of me, I would happily put up with a little bit of candle wax or whatever it is you folks do for kicks. I'd be a campus hero too: "We had sex for over eight hours," she says. I know that I was asleep, but if ever I stop being quite so tired, my reputation will have women knocking down every inch of my doors until I'm tired again and need to sleep for months. I feel sure that I could sleep through candle wax and nipple piercings with only a slight impact - for the better? - on my dreams. I may not wake up refreshed and ready to fight another day, but I don't anyway. I may not catch my train if the knots are too tight, but if I go by car instead of walking the three miles to the station, I have about half an hour's grace. Hooray for masochism.
Water rocks, right? I read that in a book somewhere. Perhaps I'm tired all the time because I don't drink enough water. Perhaps if I drown I won't be tired any more. I need to piss all the time now I've upped the intake; I have, as I tell everyone I ever meet, the bladder of a two year old. (It's in a jar in my bedroom, wanna see it? I can show you my etchings and my penis too). My one true desire is to have a slave: a rich woman with nice breasts whose mouth I could urinate into so I don't have to get up in the middle of the night. Then I would truly be happy. My life would be complete. I could die content. If she got a sexual kick out of it, then so much the better, but just anyone who would allow me to piss in their mouth when I need to sleep would do. If you are interested in the job, then email me with the subject "I Want You To Piss In My Mouth", suitable references, a photo of you, your breasts and the mouth in question, and your latest bank statement. If you have a willing twin sister, or a lipstick lesbian friend who can be converted by a man of my stature, then mention it: it can't hurt your chances. If you are willing to hurt my chances while I sleep...
Kinky, eh, squire? You may well look down on me for wanting to make no effort whatsoever with quasi-loved ones, but I remind you that as little as eight minutes ago, people who got their sexual kicks by inserting themselves into hollowed-out pumpkins were looked down upon by so-called "society". Now the pumpkophiliacs are everywhere: they're climbing the curtains, they're running for congress, they're pissing in my mouth (mmm salty), they're handing out leaflets at Plumbers' Conventions. Who are the real freaks when all is said and done? Give peace/peas a chance. I come in peace/peas. (It makes them taste quite funny, but it
keeps them on the knife).