Sexy Book of Sexy Sex (32 page)

My Taint ls a Phoenix

My taint is tiny. It’s special. It’s mine.

You can steal my heart, but you’re not taking my taint.

You can rip apart my dignity, but my taint will remain intact.

You can do me in the anus, but just you try to penetrate my taint!

I hold on to my taint fiercely, because you. can’t. have. it.

(Audience whooping and applause.)

I’ll never forget the first time I saw my taint. I was thirteen. I was in my bedroom with my mother’s hand mirror. I was on my back, legs spread, gazing at my treasure. Nestled like an island between two black holes. It was a constant between unknowns. I touched my pinky finger to my taint and pretended it was a castaway on Taint Island. My pinky traced its small island quarters, and quickly developed rock fever. Pinky jumped frantically for help and caught Ring Finger’s attention. He was on his way.

(Audience giggles.)

Together they made a home on Taint Island, exploring the parameters back and forth endlessly. But before they could get off the island, my mother walked in on me.

She was livid. Horrified. Annoyed. And most of all: jealous. She grabbed the mirror away from me and screamed, “I DON’T WANT TO EVER SEE YOU PLAYING WITH YOUR TAINT AGAIN!”

(Audience is hushed. Someone sniffles.)

And I didn’t. For forty-two years. Four taint-free decades passed me by. My taint was nothing but a ghost down there. Floating silently between my anus and vagina. Haunting my prepubescent memories.

After my mother died I had to clean out her house. The first thing I found was that hand mirror. I missed my mom, but now I missed my taint even more. I closed the door to her bedroom and arranged my selfon herbed. I was scared of what I might see. Would my taint still look the same? Or would it look as old as my face? I took a deep breath and positioned the mirror between my legs. There it was. It looked exactly the same. A piece of skin stretched between my anus and vagina. I timidly touched my pinky to it. We were reunited. I started laughing and crying and shouting, “I HOPE YOU’RE WATCHING THIS, MOTHER! I’M PLAYING WITH MY TAINT! AND YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. BECAUSE YOU’RE DEAD!”

(Audience claps.)

My taint was the opposite of dead. It was resurrected.

My taint is tiny. It’s special. But most of all: it’s mine.

(Thunderous applause.)

Taint-natrix

I came into this world taint first.

(Audience cheers.)

They call it a taint. Because it ain’t the asshole, and it ain’t the balls and it ain’t the pussy. Taint nothin’ there. Except a gorgeous delicious bite-size taint. Mmmmmmmm. I could go for some taint right now. I survive on it. It’s how I make my living.

I’m what I call a taint-natrix. I specialize in the taint. People pay me good money to take care of their taint.

I will pierce your taint, paint your taint, burn your taint, ice your taint, slap your taint, blackmail your taint, whatever I feel like. I might even eat Thanksgiving dinner off your taint. And you better hold real still. Because if one dollop of stuffing falls into your asshole, I will literally eat your taint. And yours won’t be the first taint I have shat out. Literally.

I didn’t always domlnate taints for a living. I used to be an architect. Worked for a prestigious firm. Designed several skyscrapers. Some of them famous. But then I took a trip to India and saw the Taj Mahal and I gave it all up. Someone had already built the most beautiful structure on the planet. A reflective pool separating mausoleums. A classic Indian interpretaron of a taint. Maybe Emperor Shah Jahan’s wife’s taint. I can see her gorgeous watery taint now. No wonder he built that shit for her. I flew back home and threw my blueprints away. From then on out I was going to follow my passion: taints.

(Audience elated.)

Some of my customers are nervous at flrst.

Until I show them the taint within their taint. That’s the secret. There’s a tiny heartbeat in the center of a taint. Like a little mouse with no face or legs, just a heart. Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum. And I have them touch their flnger to the taint until they feel it and they are one with it. Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Everyone put their flnger on their taint and flnd that mouse heart.

(Audience is quiet.)

DO IT! OR I WILL RIP OFF EVERYONE’S TAINT IN THE FRONT ROW!

(Uncomfortable laughing and movement.)

Verygood. Now everyone shut your mouth holes and listen to your taint hearts.

Bum-bum. Feel it? Bum-bum. Say it with me!

(“Bum-bum. Bum-bum.”)

It’s alive, ladies and gentlemen. And it’s time to tame your taint.

(Sparse claps, due to one hand being indisposed.)

Old Taint

I’m sorry, I’m a little confused, what are we talking about today? My what? My saint? Well, I’m not Catholic, I’m afraid, but I do believe that my dog Bailey might be a saint reincarnated.

(Audience laughs.)

Oh no? Well, you’ll have to forgive me. I’m eighty-eight years old. I got all my wits about me, I just don’t hear too good sometimes. My what again? My taint. Why, what on earth? What’s a taint? Oh, you have a diagram. Let me get my glasses.

(Puts on bifocals and stares at “diagram” on the fourth wall.)

Okay, what have we got here? There’s the coochy-coo. Uh-huh, and that’s where I make night soil.

(Audience giggles.)

So where’s this taint? Right there? In the middle? Oh no, that’s not the taint! That’s the twixt!

(Audience gasps.)

(Audience listens, awestruck.)

Things were very different in my day. People weren’t afraid of their twixts like they are now. When we would go on dates, we would kiss goodnight and then twixt-touch. And then if you really liked the guy, you would let him lick your boobs. But only if you approved of the way he touched your twixt.

The twixt was the real key to a lover’s heart. If he touched it too soft, it probably meant he had a small prick. If he touched it too hard, he was obviously a dumb prick. Twixt-touching was a science!

It was the same for the gent. Based on a gal’s timidity whilst touching his twixt he could measure how many men she had been with. Then it’d be clear if he was in the market for fresh snow or hot lava!

Now I was a lava girl myself. Mainly because I enjoyed the twixt-touch so much!

(Audience applause.)

Oh yes. I would have hundreds of men’s flngerprints on my twixt. And a few women’s too.

(One loud female yelp.)

These days I don’t have anyone touching my twixt.

(“I’ll touch it!”)

Oh! Ha, ha, thank you. No, no, the reason no one’s touching my twixt is that I no longer have one anymore.

(Audience gasps.)

Yes. My twixt got very sick. Cancer. Had to take it out. That’s what the doctor said. Well, actually, as I recall he did indeed say he was going to remove my “taint.” And up until now I didn’t know what that word referred to. I just remember waking up in the hospital with no twixt.

(A few sobs.)

Now, now, don’t be sad for me! I still have my twixt! I had them save it for me and now I wear it around my neck, see?

(She pulls out a piece of flesh in a small glass bottle hanging off some leather string around her neck.)

No way was I going to let them take it away from me completely! It’s my twixt! The world will keep changing, and whether it’s your twixt then or your taint now, it will always be a special part of you.

(Audience claps.)

Impotence

It’s the end of what has quite possibly been the most romantic day of your life. Breakfast in bed, then swimming with dolphins, followed by a spontaneous campfire on the beach and running home in the rain. Now you’re giggling like schoolgirls and stripping out of wet clothes that still smell vaguely of dolphin hugs. Suddenly your lover looks at you with hungry eyes. What happens next could very well be the greatest sexual experience you’ll ever share with another soul, the perfect end to the perfect day.

If you fail to get an erection,
pouting like a little baby will only remind her of what you’re incapable of giving her.

But something’s not right. For some reason, your penis isn’t becoming erect. Rub it, lick it, suck it, stroke it, blow on it, and plead with it all you want; it just hangs there like a guilty child too ashamed to look you in the eye. What the hell is wrong with you? Unless that rain was whiskey and some of it accidentally splashed into your mouth, the problem is you’re impotent.

Also known as
erectile dysfunction (ED),
impotence affects an estimated 5 percent of men over 40, 20 percent of men over 65, and a whopping 100 percent of men over 120. But don’t let the fact that you’re not alone provide any assurance that being impotent is “okay.” It’s not. Having no dick whatsoever is preferable to the silly, sagging reminder of inadequacy that is a nonfunctioning penis. Nonetheless, impotent men typically seek treatment before grabbing a pair of garden shears and doing the honorable thing, so here are some facts: The latest medical research has identified three leading causes or “excuses” for erectile dysfunction. They are: • Psychological causes (e.g., stress, depression, low self-esteem, vaginaphobia) • Physical problems (nerve damage, hole in side of penis that spurts blood when aroused, general wear and tear) • Gypsy curses

The
anatomy of the penis
is something impotence suffers probably shouldn’t think about.

The good news is, unless you’ve recently angered a gypsy, your penile affliction can be treated. That’s because for one reason or another, erectile dysfunction has captivated the best and brightest minds of our male-dominated medical establishment, who in turn have produced no less than four clinically approved remedies for impotence.

IMPOTENCE DRUGS: