You know, sometimes it doesn’t suck to be me.
The other day, I received a sweet email from a reader saying that she and her husband enjoy reading my life. They are new to swinging, she went on, and should she ever get to the city, she would love to get naked with me.
Ain’t that a fine how-d’ya-do?
She also asked if I wouldn’t mind receiving nude photographs of her now and then, as her husband has made a hobby of making her his muse. Always one to encourage uxorious behavior, I consented. I’m glad I did. My correspondent is just as lovely on the eyes as she is on the page.
With her permission, I’m sharing a photograph with you.
Isn’t that a pleasant . . . what’s the word? Oh yes, lagniappe.
Her lucky husband is quite the gent. He offered to school me in his favorite single malts, one of which—Woodford Reserve—has already shown up at my door. I have to say, I admire his tastes in spirits and spouse, as well as his generosity in sharing both.
By chance, another reader also sent me nude photographs that same day. I’m not sharing them here, for the photographs were sent for entirely different purposes. She was told to send them my way by someone else in her life, someone who knew that my viewing of her naked flesh would make her nervous—and aroused.
I’ll bet that my oblique reference to them here has her wet.
It’s always great to look at naked people, but do you know what I appreciated above all? Each reader was not only kind enough to send photographs, but each was polite enough to ask before doing so. I can’t tell you how sexy good manners are to this Southern boy.
If you care to send photographs, video or words my way, please feel free to inquire about doing so. I can’t promise I will post them here—especially images, as I like it that my blog is, visually at least, generally safe for work—but I can promise you that anything sent to me goes no further than my retina without your permission.
On the subject of sending things my way, here’s a naked appeal.
I’m restocking for a new season of sex parties. My friends and I will be going through condoms like . . . like . . . well, like a whole bunch of people having sex all at once.
Those of you with the means to do so are invited to click on the Intimate Gifts button at left to help keep us in condoms. The folks there know how to get them to us. If you like, you can specify that your gift is intended in honor of a specific individual—for Mitzi, for example, or for Mmmmark.
We’ll think of you every time we roll on one.
If you see anything else at Intimate Gifts that you would like to read about us putting to use, by all means, send it along. Pick up something nice for yourself while you are there, and you’ll still be doing something nice for me. Remember, I get a little kickback when you buy from that link.
We also need to restock the bar. If you, like my correspondent’s shutterbug hubby, want to send hooch, drop a line and I will tell you how to do so. I’m a bourbon man myself—did I mention that?—but if you have other labels you would like for us to tilt, please say so.
A case of wine would be welcome, and you know, it doesn't have to be fancy: I like that Three Buck Chuck at Trader Joe's.
Now, please close your eyes and stop thinking about the sexy naked lady at the top of this page. No sexy naked lady, no sexy naked lady, no sexy naked lady . . .
Readers often write to say that they enjoy my stories about parenting. If you want to do something right by the children—who read, play and outgrow clothes every season, as children do—then let me know and we can arrange a gift for them.
Looking through their collection, I can’t imagine there are any more toys featuring Hello Kitty or Star Wars characters, but I may be mistaken. Sports jerseys and memorabilia are also great, as the boys follow football, baseball and basketball.
Does that leave anyone out? Oh yes, Lucy, my ex wife. Well, if you like those stories above all, drop a line and I’ll tell you how to contribute to paying the legal fees from our divorce.
Gee, I hadn’t thought of that before. How sweet if my smut paid off my divorce. After all, they do say the best revenge is living well.
If you are poor as a church mouse, but you still want to show your love, I have an administrative task that needs doing. Want to lend a hand?
Okay, that’s all for my naked appeal. Oh wait—I asked you to forget about my naked correspondent. Here, this should refresh your memory.
His shadow on the lower right only makes this hotter.