Huey be likin' th' SEX

From: hellpopehuey@subgenius.com (HellPopeHuey)
Date: Thu, Mar 18, 2004

I like sex. I like it a lot. I liked it twice last night and was
pleasantly surprised to like it again this morning. I like it in
6-packs & flip-tops. I like it when people gossip about it and I know
they're almost certainly getting it really wrong from one angle or
another. Gossip generally bores me, but watching the dominos go the
wrong way entirely can be amusing. I laughed when she came in
starkers, but wearing cat ears.

I like sex that agrees to turn off the phone first. I like sex that
doesn't make me want to gnaw my arm off to get away, come the morn.
Richard Pryor once said "I don't care if you laugh, but don't POINT,
too!" I like it when someone erroneously labels me as a prude and I
can snicker happily, knowing that I am a borderline pervert with
results.

I like it in tents at big pagan festivals. I've liked it in swimming
pools on several occasions; just hold on to the ladder for leverage
and wha-hoo! I would like it in a boat, but I would not like it with a
goat. Speaking of which, I don't really care for sex via porn overall,
especially lately. There's an upswing of interest in things involving
animals and extremely young girls that strikes a sour chord with me.
That ain't sex as much as its... um... well, its bad, let's just say.
"Gosh, Wilbur, that violates the laws of nature!" No insult meant to
you who, like Larry Flynt, may have had your first meaningful
encounter with a chicken.

I like it in a motel, with its escape, its focus, its miasma of the
forbidden, its time away from the dadburned kids so you can be
entirely focused and drink one another in completely. People become so
beset by the day-to-day, so mired in routine, that they sometimes
forget how vital such time can be. It is utterly rejuvenating to
refresh your ability to smile knowingly at one another. I like the
bump-and-tickle that reminds you of both motels past and those yet to
come.

I like the website to which I was directed by a friend. It gives a
thorough tour of a Japanese sex museum, something you'll
triple-damned-well never see in middle America. We are so consumed
with a twitchy and unhealthy mix of sublimation and blaring tee-hee,
we generally have little to no grasp of genuine eroticism. The subtle
and beautifully crafted aspects are engaging enough, but the real
merit lies with the sense of humor expressed. How could one not laugh
at several farm animals arranged in the act, wearing colorful hats?
How about the doorway dressed up as a large vagina? Then there was the
tender couple, her robe sliding from her shoulders, their porcelain
eyes locked in an embrace caught in the space of time between two
seconds. Japan can seem odd, but it makes Earth better with a style
all its own.

There is something to be said for a come-on, but as with the Law,
justice delayed is justice denied. Its a fine art to know the
difference between flirting and taunting. A delicate appreciation can
be an uplifting thing, whereas arrogance and an overabundance of
showing off take on the aspect of a fist in the face and lose that
frisson of electricity that defines all things erotic at their best.
It ain't the meat, its the emotion. Well, not with guys raised on
beer, bad jokes and tattered copies of "Big'Uns," but if you're
willing to accept that slack-jawed drooling for a lick at those tight
buns, you were asking for trouble with a bullhorn anyway.

I like sex with "Bob" and Connie, they're the tops. I like "A Little
Time Out For Sex" by Papa John
Creach. I like the sexual hinting of old movies. I am far less
enamored of the in-your-face style of modern flicks; although I like
to look, as I am nowhere near dead, it tends to take too much of the
mystery and promise out of the equation. The sheer rut has its place,
no question, but the shifts of silk and thigh outweigh mere sweat by
12 parsecs. I like the amusing fact that Japanese women swooned over
Charles Bronson because he looked like a craggy foo dog and was thus
familiar to them. I like it when she touches my arm as we talk. Yes,
I'm paying attention to what she's saying, but I still like it. I'm
mindful of both, which is why she talks with me and touches my arm.

Few men really want to be the Rebound Guy, but being the first one to
encounter Ms. Lovely after Mr. Numbnut put her through the wringer can
be a thing of rich wonder. Good lord, my trailer hitch has no chrome
left on it. Its amazing how hornifying full acceptance with few quirks
and no demands that someone help you carry all that damned baggage can
be. It doesn't hurt a bit if you take the time to define the map of
where her key places are and have better staying power than her
terrier, of course, but women put a high value on your being genuine.
You can only be in bed for so long, but you can be together much
longer having pizza, watching a video, comparing notes on which
politican you think is more insane, teasing her cat a little. Those
are the things that turn up the heat before, during and after. I like
the fact that she likes my consideration of these things. I like the
sex that broke one leg of her bed, it was swell; however, I liked it
even better when she put a paint can under it and we kept going. Now
there's a gal you can ride to the bank!

I like sex that doesn't give a fuck about Cosmo, Hard Copy or the
Abdomenizer. I like sex prepared for, but well-resolved and unfettered
once the starter rope has been pulled. I like when the neighbors look
at you that way because they heard some whoopin'. I like the fuzzy sex
you sometimes see late at night when some cable channel in between the
usual ones starts cross-twitching. Gee, she must have an extra joint
in her back to do that. I like the challenge of surprisingly good sex
with someone who was willing but dubious. I like the girl who asked to
be handcuffed. Its not my thing as such, but never say no to a lady,
especially one who is wearing no pants.

I didn't just watch "Star Trek: Voyager" for the special effects; I
also watched for shots of Seven of Nine walking away from the camera,
as those are some mighty tasty buns. It can be enjoyable to appreciate
what you're unlikely to get, as long as you don't twist yourself into
a Mobius strip over it. The world will try to hand you testicular
torsion enough as it is; don't help it along, that's a chump's game.

I once had a girlfriend who was a real bombshell and after a while, I
asked her why she chose a relative pug like me when any man would be
glad to have her on his arm. To my surprise, her face darkened a bit
and she said "Because you're the first man who really came up and
talked to me in six months." Sometimes what you think you cannot have
would LIKE to be "had" and longs for it in terms that might never
occur to you until and unless the beaded curtain is pulled to one
side. This lovely woman pulled her curtains aside quite a bit over a
couple of years. A beautiful lesson, that was. Have I been a clumsy
goober with a few women since then? Sure have; I sometimes lapse into
guy-hood, sorry folks. Besides, every match is different, but I've
never forgotten how real heat often comes from warmth.

I enjoyed Barbara Walters actually saying to Hugh Downs on "20/20",
during their alleged feud period: "People aren't going to believe we
like each other unless we fornicate on the desk." Don't sweat it,
Barb; most people don't know the difference and will just glaze over
and drool no matter what. So wear a leopard thong, if you like. It IS
your personal heiney. Carry it with pride.

I thought "There's no use getting into heavy petting, it only leads
to trouble and seat-wetting." Yeah, right! I like it when you git
together & fit together just so. I like music that makes yer hips
twitch. That's why the Baptists are so hinky about it, ashamed of
their glands & think KY Jelly is just for enemas. What a pity, but
then, maybe it keeps the number of new Baptists down a bit, since they
revile sex so. They sure need the enemas.

I especially like the sex I've earned by doing simple things. She
came home and plopped down into the chair, tired & disgusted. I wet a
washcloth, washed her feet off and massaged 'em with oil for a while.
She looked at me as if I had grown a 3rd head, but she didn't say no,
which led to a bouquet of residual blessings. Learn to recognize both
the difference and the crossover point between "sensual" & "sexual."

I do NOT like sex with animals, despite the rumors, same to you. I
have no taste for it with the infirm, although many of us have
inadvertantly banged a mental case who got under our radar. I do not
care for it with fruit; that's why God made latex. I don't care for
"make-up" sex; while hot for some, it says to me that we have a kink
beyond a penchant for paddling. Its better when you're smart enough to
get along and not fall into such a silly pit.

I don't care for Britney-Spears- style sexual imagery. Most of 'em
that age are just figuring it out, accelerated rebound time or not.
Its a craft you learn over time and I'm too lazy to teach a novice,
sorry. You aren't really getting down to the best nasty until you DO
need maybe a little airbrushing and cellulite-reduction. I can compare
the two: its like flash-frying versus steam heat. Take that as you
will. Be mindful of your sacrum.

I like it tender in the clench. I like sex that's blind to the bumps
you've developed that you would have gone "EEYEEWWW!" to in your 20s.
I like Bill Maher's image of "Butt-slappin', who's-your-daddy, hot
monkey sex." And I might even like it better still next weekend,
which, with a little luck, would trump last Saturday by a pleasant
notch or so. She's lovely, she's bright, she's warm, I'm elated. Get
the butter!

HellPope Huey
Darn, its the Apocalypse and I've nothing to wear

"You mean it took him 50 years
just to get his instructions right?"
"Heaven does not measure time as humans do."
- "The Spectre"

"Don't be afraid... here comes the air."
- "Signs"

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From: "nu-monet v6.0" <nothing@succeeds.com>

HellPopeHuey wrote:
> I like sex. I like it a lot...

Then go to prison. You can get sex there
ANYTIME you want.

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From: Baldin Pramer <baldin@mailtoworld.com>

Every time you don't want is not the same as anytime you want.

--
Baldin Pramer

----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "nu-monet v6.0" <nothing@succeeds.com>

It's like what the big prisoner said to the
little prisoner:

"I used to be into tits, but now I'm into
shoulder blades."

--
Fukem if jokay take not.
-- nu-monet

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From: hellpopehuey@subgenius.com (HellPopeHuey)

"nu-monet v6.0" <nothing@succeeds.com> wrote:
> HellPopeHuey wrote:
> > I like sex. I like it a lot...
>
> Then go to prison. You can get sex there
> ANYTIME you want.

True, but not always with anyONE I want. If Bruno has the most
cigarettes, I have to go with him and I don't like Bruno. He is
ungentle and smells of turnips. I hate turnips.

HellPope Huey
Darn, its the Apocalypse and I've nothing to wear

"You mean it took him 50 years
just to get his instructions right?"
"Heaven does not measure time as humans do."
- "The Spectre"

"Don't be afraid... here comes the air."
- "Signs"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: hellpopehuey@subgenius.com (HellPopeHuey)

soylent_purple@hotmail.com (Roy. Just Roy.) wrote:
> Gee, for a guy that likes sex so much, you have an awful lot of time
> to write about it.

We had to stop; we were getting dehydrated and "Smallville" was
coming on.

> Heh, wait until the sex owns half your house and has a pitbull for a
> lawyer. I never knew that there was a feeling more painful than having
> your testicles gnawed at by Texan fire ants until I experienced the
> Attention of a Divorce Lawyer. It makes Childbirth look like a walk
> through the park by the factor that childbirth, no matter how painful,
> ends. Remember, take the "s" from "sex" and you get "ex".

In Texas, you'd have a 60/40 chance of getting away with the "But
Your Honor, She NEEDED Killin'" defense. Its an extra-violent place,
which I know from being a native and because they ARE so stupid, they
hate women in a way that might help you get away with it. They "know
how it is." Or you might end up as the Love Slave of Cell Block #322.
Take a chance, LIVE! The Law is mighty stupid in its implementation
and slower than a Special Olympics medal winner playing chess with a
Simpsons set.
Anyway, I HAVE an ex and YOU have my sympathy. At least my ex is
civilized and my current gal is sane... I think. A man can UNDERSTAND
women, up to a point, but to say he KNOWS what they want is another
gig. That's like saying you know what's making the cat fart like a
motorboat.

> Yes, we get it. You like sex on a train, you like sex on a plane. I
> don't care how much you poke the clam, I still won't eat green eggs
> and ham.

But you'd eat Anna Nicole in a NY picosecond. Admit it. We all would.

HellPope Huey
Darn, its the Apocalypse and I've nothing to wear

"You mean it took him 50 years
just to get his instructions right?"
"Heaven does not measure time as humans do."
- "The Spectre"

"Don't be afraid... here comes the air."
- "Signs"

_ __/|
\`O_o'
=(_ _)= - Ack! Phttpt!!
U

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From: the_cacc@hotmail.com (trouble)

soylent_purple@hotmail.com (Roy. Just Roy.) wrote:
> I don't care how much you poke the clam, I still won't eat green eggs
> and ham.

You know, "if we had some ham, we could have ham and eggs, if we had some eggs".
[Theodore Sturgeon]

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From: "ghost" <ghost@ghost.net>

"HellPopeHuey" <hellpopehuey@subgenius.com> wrote:
> I like sex. I like it a lot. I liked it twice last night and was
> pleasantly surprised to like it again this morning.>>

(snip)

This is very SWEET.

No. Really. I knew from the start you were a fuckin' romantic.

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From: hellpopehuey@subgenius.com (HellPopeHuey)
Date: Fri, Mar 19, 2004

fergedaboutit <none@spam.spam> wrote:
hellpopehuey@subgenius.com (HellPopeHuey) wrote:
> >I like sex. I like it a lot. I liked it twice last night and was
> >pleasantly surprised to like it again this morning.
>
> ...and then you woke up on your shit-stained mattress all alone, your
> tiny, shriveled choad in your hand; realizing that, yes, you're still
> the same lonely assface you were yesterday. Nothing ever changes, and
> nothing ever will. Sucks to be you.

You have a really rotten case of projection there, spud. You'd make a
really fine bitch for iceknife. There's no point in taking it out on
others just because YOU got drunk and tried to fuck a Salad Shooter.
Try a girl instead. Many of them are far better and generally do not
have whirling blades.

HellPope Huey
These Hulk Underoos are WAY too tight, oog!

"She's either hot for you or dangerously psychotic."
"With my luck, probably both."
- "Judging Amy"

When a man steals your wife,
there is no better revenge than to let him keep her.
- Sacha Guitry

_ __/|
\`O_o'
=(_ _)= - Ack! Phttpt!!
U

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From: fergedaboutit <none@spam.spam>

"Rev. Ivan Stang" <stang@subgeniusNOSPUM.com> wrote:
>I've known the Hellpope for 20 very odd years. No, more like 24. And he
>is in fact a hopeless romantic. Among other things. DUH! And, while I
>usually CRINGE when I see "I had this great sex" posts like this one,
>because I know they're just wishful thinking, in this case I cringed
>because I know it is NOT wishful thinking. AND I KNOW WHAT HUEY LOOKS
>LIKE WITH HIS SHIRT OFF. So it's a different kind of cringing entirely.
>But others who have visited the Hellpope recently have vouched that
>indeed, as fucking weird and WEIRD LOOKING as he is, as LOUD and LARGE
>as he is, he actually, literally did, recently at least, have too many
>girlfriends, and I don't just mean skanks he picked up one night. I
>mean, numerous actual girlfriends that willingly fucked him repeatedly,
>at least half of whom would "pass" even among picky humans.

Fuck off, sycophant.

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From: soylent_purple@hotmail.com (Roy. Just Roy.)

"Rev. Ivan Stang" <stang@subgeniusNOSPUM.com> wrote:
> I've known the Hellpope for 20 very odd years. No, more like 24. And he
> is in fact a hopeless romantic.

Yeah, but you X-posted to alt.tasteless. A.T's idea of romance is
sandbagging the bitch with a dirty Sanchez rather than go for the
squickhole.

ObTranslation for you newbies and non-desert folk:

Sandbagging - When you drive a girl out 50 miles into the desert for a
"camping trip", get her drunk and proceed to fuck her. Just before Mr.
Happy is about to go 'round the bend, slip the condom off, stick a
finger up her ass and call the bitch a dirty whore. When she looks up
in surprise, cum, throw sand in her face and run back to your car with
her clothes. Drive off, leaving her stranded, naked, knocked up and
blinded.

Dirty Sanchez - Repeat said above action, only wipe her own shit on
her upper lip as you're throwing sand with the other hand. Only for
the skilled.

Then again, soc.men's idea of romance is not sending the woman a bill
for the Rohypnol the next day. Hey, she deserved it, she can pay too.

> AND I KNOW WHAT HUEY LOOKS LIKE WITH HIS SHIRT OFF.
> So it's a different kind of cringing entirely.

Don't ask, don't tell.

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Original file name: Huey be likin' th' SEX.txt - converted on Saturday, 25 September 2004, 02:05