Scientists discover miracle cure: Talking to the little man in the boat.

douglasFOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Mufflick, Alabama – Scientists went hard to work after hearing Michael Douglas’ claim that he acquired throat cancer from “eating too much pussy.” Not since the movie Sideways destroyed sales of Merlot, has an actor’s line had such an effect. Women’s vaginas all across the nation have been sadly neglected. Some claim this has also affected sales of peanut butter. Major metropolitan areas have seen significant water shortages, possibly due to women straddling tub faucets.

We asked random men on Box Lunch Boulevard downtown to get their reactions to Michael Douglas’ claim.

“Jesus. Throat cancer? Guess I’ll stick to anal lingus.”

“Never really liked doing it anyway. Now I have an excuse.”

“On what part of the vagina does the cancer live? If I just concentrate on the love button, am I safe?”

“You down with HPV? Yeah, you know me.”

“What if I lay down a thick layer of packing tape before I lick it? That should protect me.”

Fortunately, scientists didn’t take the actor seriously (especially after seeing his droopy lip and ass on Basic Instinct), and performed numerous trials. Amazingly, the tests overwhelmingly invalidated Douglas’ claim, and proved quite the opposite. We interviewed chief specialist Clamford Lapinski.

“Dr. Lapinski …”

“Please, call me Clam.”

“Clam, tell our viewers what you’ve found.”

“Well, not only has cunnilingus been conclusively found to not cause cancer, it has many unforeseen benefits. First, it has been found to ease joint pain, except for in the neck. A protein in the female ejaculate has been positively linked to hair growth–not just any hair, in fact: dark hair on the scalp. Not that we’re encouraging this, but this same protein has been shown to cure acne in teenagers.”

“That’s amazing.”

“I know! But, that’s not all,” continued Clam, “turns out vaginal juices are more effective at curing erectile dysfunction than Viagra, all without altering the patient’s vision. Pfizer is rushing to develop a 5-hour Erection Drink that contains a synthetic version of the substance. And lastly, we’ve found that the divorce rate for men who head south at least five times a month is almost half the national rate.”

“Damn.”

A collective sigh of relief could be heard across yoga classes as women rejoiced at the thought of once again being tongue punched in the baby box. We caught up with a few babes in sweaty Lululemon, and asked how this new scientific study might change their lives.

“Guess I can resume giving blowjobs. Gettin’ pretty tired of seeing my husband mope around the house.”

“Thank god. I was a bit concerned about that tiny experiment I had in college.”

“I think the scientists should study butt sex. There’s probably a link to shingles or something. Damn tired of my man thumbing my butt.”

“I’m rushing home to sit on a face as we speak.”

“This is the best news–sorry, I’m a little choked up–since they discovered that wine is good for you. Say, your camera man is cute. Interested in a little miracle serum, hottie?”

Douglas’ wife, CZJ, could not be reached for comment as she reportedly is hanging out with the entire San Antonio Spurs squad.

Soon, I’ll have it licked.

“What are you reading?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“This is another reason why I have a Kindle: so you can’t see the cover or tell how often I’m flipping pages.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine. It’s a book called She Comes First and it’s absolutely what you think it is.”

“A great idea?”

“Some would say.”

“Well, what have you learned?”

“That your pussy is like fine, red wine.”

“It is and you’re disgusting.”

“Am so. It says right here that the pH of your vulva is remarkably similar to wine. Next time I head south, I’m bringing crackers and thinly sliced Parmesan.”

“Hey, whatever keeps you down there for longer than a minute.”

“You bring up another thing I learned: It takes much longer for a woman to orgasm–typically in the fifteen to forty-five minute range.”

“Yep.”

“Damn. Sounds like a sore neck to me.”

“That’s why you have pillows. What else?”

“The clitoris is similar to the penis, but doesn’t have the waste removal duties and is thus entirely dedicated to being a pleasure center. It contains thousands of nerve endings and the hood is similar to a man’s foreskin. I wouldn’t know about that last part since I have none.”

“Good.”

“Which part?”

“The part under the foreskin.”

“Touché. Here’s something I found interesting: Some anthropologists suggest that a woman wears lipstick to signal her lover in a similar way to how her ‘lower lips’ expose themselves and change color during stimulation.”

“OK, I’m going to touch up mine, but it’s because I have dry upper lips, not the other reason.”

“Damn. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Yes. Why? Don’t get gross on me.”

“I learned that an undesirable scent from below could be a sign of promiscuity because sperm can taint the area north of the taint.”

“I had a bagel with lox and cream cheese.”

“Sorry.”

“I should know better than to ask you questions. Couldn’t you just lie like other men?”

“Sure, but I’m a nice guy. Remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“Now let me finish the book so I can do like Neil Armstrong.”

“Fly to the moon?”

“No. Take one small lick for a man; one giant lick for womankind.”

Glazing

Today’s question comes from a sweet thing I’ll call “Nora L.” It will become apparent why I chose that name. Ladies, please raise your barriers so you don’t have to contend with such selfish men.

“I dated him for over a year and he never went down on me.”

“Horrors!”

“I’m serious.”

“Not that you should have had to, but did you ever give him a hint?”

“Such as?”

“You know–placing both hands on top of his head and pushing him down between your thighs or waiting until he falls asleep and straddle-mounting his noggin. I refer to the latter move as the clam-face. Depending on your proclivity, it could be a form of CPR.”

“You’re gross. No.”

“OK. Did you ever simply ask him?”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“True. Might I assume this selfish lad was receiving oral favors from you?”

“He was–practically daily.”
“Damn. Have any sisters?”

“Seriously. What’s up with that?”

“Unreciprocated love is so frustrating.”

“Yes, I know.”

I’d love to corner her dude and solve the mystery by getting my information straight from the tongueless mouth. He’d probably be unreceptive.

“Dude, what’s with the no licky licky?”

“Huh?”

“Why won’t you go down on your woman?”

“I don’t know, I guess I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Duh. For some women, that’s the only way they can get to O-town.”

“She has plenty of orgasms.”

“Perhaps, but she’d still appreciate a little reciprocation.”

“Re-what?”

“Returning her oral favors, slapnuts.”

“She’s never complained to me.”

“True. Instead she complains to all of her friends and this random barstool warmer.”

“Oh God, that’s embarrassing.”

“Right? You’d better learn how to migrate soon or half the county will have you pegged as a lick-free Louie.”

“Maybe I’m worried I’m not very good at it.”

“It’s not brain surgery. Try drawing numbers with your tongue.”

“Like this?”

“Christ, man, NOT HERE!”

“Sorry.”

“Think ‘wax on, wax off,’ vary the speed and pressure, and listen for feedback. Avoid the typical up-and-down mistake called the paint-the-fence method.”

“What do I do with my hands?”

“Since you’re a rookie, I suggest grasping her butt or hips. When you finally get out of the Minors, consider employing the right hand come-hither method.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“You’re hopeless. Look, if you want her to continue bobbing on your knob, you’re going to have to go chin-glazing. Oh, and by the way, make sure you deglaze before heading back north. The back of your wrist will do, her sheets and thighs won’t.”

“Good to know.”

“Go get her, champ.”

This could have been avoided if the woman felt secure enough to deliver expectations and directions. Most women will tell everyone except for the one person who can solve the problem. Often, it’s with good intentions, as she doesn’t want to hurt her man’s feelings. Believe me; he’d rather have you tell him than your friends or, worst of all, me.

Work on bedroom communication and the rest of your relationship will become more secure and enjoyable.

Going Down

What goes through your mind as your lover heads south? I sure hope he remembers his sunscreen. That’s not the “south” I was referring to. The anxiety that you have during your partner’s trip can make his or her stay pleasant or brief, depending.

As my lady unzipped, I tapped away on my iPhone’s notepad app and recorded my thoughts.

  • I sure wish she’d take off those reading glasses.
  • Wow, she missed a few roots.
  • I should have given the undercarriage a twice-over.
  • Suddenly it strikes me how much safer button-fly jeans are.
  • If she makes a gagging sound, I’m going to be simultaneously proud and grossed-out.
  • Home dog … DAMN YOU, AUTOCORRECT … Good God, she’s talented.
  • I’m going to time this session so I know how long I’ll need to reciprocate.
  • I wonder if she’s a rookie (nibbler) or trooper (good to the last drop).
  • Please leave my taint alone.
  • Interesting … my right toe is perfectly aligned with her love-button. Do I dare?
  • I could get used to this.
  • I hope all of my pubes are battened down. Hearing my cats cough up fur balls is bad enough.
  • I have no idea what pleasure women get out of this, but it doesn’t matter.

It was only fair that I flipped her over, handed her my iPhone, and had her record her thoughts while I visited thigh canyon.

  • I hope he’s gentle.
  • Dance around the bull’s-eye a bit before you poke the hell out of it.
  • I think I’m good on the freshness calendar.
  • I wonder if Rogaine affects sexual performance.
  • That goatee is killing me.
  • Come on, dude, you have ten fingers sitting idle.
  • The timing of my Brazilian was impeccable.
  • I could get used to this.
  • I wonder how many lovers it took him to learn how to do this.
  • Would he be freaked-out if I handed him my rabbit?
  • He’d better not try to kiss me.
  • If he wipes his chin on the sheets, I’ll kill him.
  • Brad-ley Coo-per … Brad-ley Coo-per … Dormez-vous? … Where are you?
  • Ow! Would it kill him to take my panties off first?

It’s best to perish the thought and cherish the deed, isn’t it? Everyone loves to head south. (I assume South Africans prefer to head north.) Thoughts can be distracting at this juncture, so best to clear the mind. Strap yourself into the love rollercoaster and let it take you through the peaks and valleys. You can steer a bit with your knees, grab the ears, arch your back, clutch the sheets, or seek guidance from the divine. Whatever gets you to the next ride is acceptable. Throw your hands up, get some leverage from your headboard, clamp his ears with your thighs, and yell, “Weeee!”