Saturday, June 4, 2016


When an individual masturbates to images of him-or-herself. 

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Blowa Constrictor

When an individual must unhinge his or her jaw like a feeding boa constrictor in order to successfully fellate a huge penis.

Caleb and Delmonico were unable to speak nor move as the seismic shock tore through their bodies and minds. The Bucktown Antique Market in Chicago was charging $675 for a small Art Deco clock. Caleb had noticed the clock and thought it would feng shui nicely with the layout of the salon in the West Loop loft he shared with his power-bottom lover Delmonico. He had called Delmonico over before looking at the small paper price tag hanging from one of the clock's feet.

Delmonico eventually swallowed loudly, sighed and removed his hands from the pockets of his Dussault Apparel jeans. "Jesus, Caleb," he whispered/lisped to to his treasured bone-smuggler, the love of his life for the past eight years, "this colon-bomber is an even bigger faggot than us; he must know that current market conditions in no way support the valuation of a clock this small in very good condition at anything above $400."

Delmonico knew of what he spoke. After law school made him so stressed out that his anus was clenched too tight for Caleb to penetrate, Delmonico dropped out and was currently preparing a business plan and securing investors for his own Chicago antique store.

"Piss in my ass, Caleb, everything in here is overpriced," Delmonico said, while pointing at a mediocre 1910 watercolor selling for $550, "I think this uppity bear needs to be taught a lesson about ripping off the public."

Caleb thought for a moment. Delmonico's foreskin had been torn a week earlier when Caleb had fulfilled Delmonico's long-running fantasy of being jerked off by someone wearing a Michael Jackson glove.

"Beat it! Beat it!," Delmonico had yelled. Unfortunately, the sequins caught under the foreskin and caused a bloody mess and an uncomfortable emergency room visit. Waiting for the wound to heal meant that Delmonico had not ejaculated in seven days, the longest he had gone since he first expelled his manly dessert to a picture of Marc Harmon in People Magazine.

"Delmonico, you've got a seven-day load in your beanbag that is going to make a bigger mess than a stick of dynamite in a mayonnaise factory. Let's teach this entitled homo some humility."

"Oh fuck, Caleb, it's so naughty that I'm already plumping up. Look! There's painted folk art chair listed at over $1,000! Oooh, it's just begging for me to bust seed."

The Bucktown Antique Market consisted of a first floor and a basement, both so crammed full of random items that the only way to traverse the shop floor was via narrow walkways between the endless piles of items. The only camera in the basement was above the stairway, and the wretched chair was in the back behind an armoire.

Caleb and Delmonico moved quickly through the basement until Delmonico could get into position with his back against the armoire and his super-soaker pointed at the chair. Caleb knelt down in an uncomfortable position, pulled down Delmonico's jeans and extracted a very veiny meat-pole from sheer Calvin Klein briefs.

Caleb gulped and began to sweat when he saw the state of Delmonico's turgid member. Delmonico's cock was normally the size of an adult ferret, but the combination of 7 days without milky release and the excitement over defacing inferior, overpriced antiques had left Delmonico resembling a pepperoni on steroids with a plump, harvest-ready grapefruit swinging below it.

"Caleb, I need you to take all of it," Delmonico pleaded with a trembling lisp, "I need to explode all over this wretched pile of driftwood shit."

Caleb, as a master cocksucker, knew that he would need to employ a technique he had only read about if he hoped to completely inhale Delmonico's cream cheese roll and coin purse. Performing the Blowa Constrictor would require him to unhinge his jaw and devour the entire stinky pickle.

Caleb went into a quick meditative trance while Delmonico maintained his erection by fantasizing about baptizing Justin Bieber's vanilla back-gash. When ready, Caleb began by opening his mouth as wide as he could without experiencing muscle strain, holding the position for five seconds and then closing his mouth. He then opened his mouth to the point where there was a small amount of muscle strain, held the position for five seconds and closed his mouth. Caleb repeated this until his mouth was as open as it could be.

At this point Caleb, who was double-jointed in many parts of his body, shifted his lower jaw to the left to unhinge the right side of the jaw, and then shifted it right to unhinge the left side. Caleb was left looking somewhat like an extremely queer Roger Ebert.

Caleb slowly moved his mouth down Delmonico's greasy spunk-sausage until the entire monster wang was deep-throated. Caleb summoned a level of concentration worthy of a Jedi Master and stretched his mouth down below the level of Delmonico's nuggets.

Caleb's face now resembled the mask the killer wore in the Scream movies. Delmonico moaned as his sack also got gobbled up.

"Oooh, it won't be long! T-minus 10...9...8...7...6," Caleb swallowed so that his throat would tighten on the head of Delmonico's cock.

"5...4...3...2......1!" Caleb moved his head at the last second and narrowly missed being decapitated. As Delmonico screamed, a thundershower of viscous spunk hammered down on the chair; the forceful ejaculation seeping into cracks in the wood and blowing chunks off the period-inappropriate paint job.

Fearful that the shop owner had been alerted by Delmonico's passionate screams, Caleb quickly realigned his jaw and Delmonico coiled-up his come-python like a premium sausage.

On the way out the front door, Caleb yelled, "thanks, but your stuff is a bit too crusty for us. If you take a load off the chair downstairs we might be back, though!"

The couple entered a top-shelf sushi restaurant with a well-earned feeling of pride and genuine accomplishment. They executed a limp-wristed fist-bump before ordering enough tuna sashimi to replenish Delmonico's depleted protein reserves.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Gerber Baby

When a fetus performs fellatio during intercourse

Caleb rubbed sugar around the rim of the mango margarita glass and hoped that the strong drink would soothe Delmonico after a disastrous ending on the American Idol finale.

"Maybe next year, bitch," said Caleb as he examined Delmonico's tear-spotted Dolce & Gabbana jeans. "I told you that cunt can't sing, but what can you do?"

"Caleb, I'm not only crying because of the sh-sh-show," Delmonico whimpered as a large strand of snot dropped into his drink, "I've been having a silly goose fantasy that I can't talk to you about."

Caleb raised one perfectly plucked and shaped eyebrow. Delmonico's last fantasy had been to have a greased eggplant inserted into his rectum; what could possibly be so shocking as to render him mute?

"Uh, Delmonico, you know getting freaky is the only way that I can shoot my albino love chutney, so spill the beans, faggot!"

"All right, but you're not going to like it," Delmonico lisped after taking a deep breath, "I...I want to see what it's like to fuck a woman." Delmonico lowered his head and began sobbing as the pressure of keeping his secret was released like the shart he expelled on the Egyptian cotton sheets when Caleb pulled the eggplant out of his poop chute.

Caleb subconsciously tugged on his purple and seafoam Ben Sherman track jacket as the shock came over him. He was not angry, merely surprised; Delmonico was as queer as a three-dollar bill, and the thought of him pounding a snizz was laughable.

"Ooooooo kaaaaaay," said Caleb in a voice that was deep for him, but that would have still sounded queer if affected by a straight man, "Delmonico, this is wild! I think you should totally go for it if it's bothering you! do you have anyone in mind?"

"Yes," Delmonico whispered, his eyes wide like those of the man in the bathroom of Berlin after Delmonico shoved his donkey-dick through the glory hole, "your sister Ashleigh. Remember how she was bitching about how Marv won't fuck her while she's pregnant? I thought we could give her some 151 and see what happens."

Caleb was not disturbed by the thought of his sister drinking whilst pregnant. It was OK to drink in the second trimester, right? Nor was he upset that Delmonico would talk of having intercourse with his married sister - Ashleigh had never accepted Caleb's homosexuality, and the thought of seeing her degraded pleased him. After all, she WAS super horny due to her fat, football obsessed husband Marv avoiding her seeded womb like Caleb avoided ESPN.

"I think it's a fantaaaaastic idea!" Caleb squealed, "Let's get her over here Friday. I'll tell her that I got a Domino's gift card. She chows cheesesticks more often than you inhale my yogurt-cannon."

***Friday Evening, Caleb & Delmonico's Chicago West Loop Loft***

"Thanks for the 'za, bro," Ashleigh belched as she patted her belly, "you know I'm eating for two now!"

Caleb and Delmonico let out a pathetic fake laugh; they understood that this cliche represented the full extent of Ashleigh's sense of humor.

"Um, Ashleigh, I thought that we would celebrate the blessing that is your fifth child," Caleb said as he held up a bottle of Bacardi 151, or, as Ashleigh called it, Nectar Of The Gods, "it's OK to have one drink, right? Let's do a toast!"

"Fuck yeah, let's do it!" Ashleigh roared, "it'll make the little fucker strong as an ox!"

"To little Tanner, my future nephew!" Caleb flounced as he held up his shot glass, "drink up!"

As soon as Ashleigh downed her shot, Caleb poured another. And then another. And another. Ashleigh was getting so soused that she did not notice Delmonico tossing his shots into the aloe vera plant in the corner.

"Woooo! Feelin' no pain tonight!" Ashleigh slurred, "set me up anozer one, baby bro!"

"OK, but before I do that, Ashleigh, Delmonico has something to show you," Caleb said, "look over in the corner."

Ashleigh turned her glassy eyes to the corner of the room, where Delmonico had extracted his forearm-sized, rock hard meatpole.

"Do you want it, Ashleigh?" Delmonico whispered, "you know you're hungry for a fat cock."

Ashleigh nodded and drooled as if hypnotized. She stood up and followed as Delmonico beckoned her to the boudoir.

Delmonico winced as Ashleigh removed her Bears sweatpants and displayed cottage cheese theighs and a gut. He began to silently weep as an odor resembling a trout hatchery filled the room.

Ashleigh spread her legs and Delmonico immediately penetrated her; his massive dong easily sliding in to her blown-out hatchet-wound.

"Oh god, it's all gooey like warm Jello," Delmonico cried as he forced himself to thrust deeper, the head of his penis going through Ashleigh's cervix, which was also blown out from her four birthing sessions, "how could this get any worse?"

Delmonico was about to find out. As he struggled to maintain his erection by picturing Tom Colicchio from Top Chef, Tanner De Laurent (who had already developed homosexual tendencies) was rearranging himself in the womb to get closer to Delmonico's tool - an instinct similar to the one that allows newborns to find a nipple.

Delmonico gasped as Tanner's under-developed mouth began sucking on his pee-hole. He thought that this was some magical feature of the vagina; he had no idea that the fetus was Gerber-Babying him.

The baby BJ pushed Delmonico over the edge - he shot a load so hard that it pushed in Tanner's skull and caused an injury that would eventually lead to Downs Syndrome.

As Delmonico ran screaming into the shower, Ashleigh fell asleep and Caleb began spraying Lysol in the befouled bedroom.

Monday, April 14, 2008


This is what your anus looks like after anal sex when you use the oily run-off from Alli (diet drug) as lube, causing the anus to resemble a greasy orange Spaghetti-O.

Caleb's asshole looked like a delectable spaghetti-o after a hearty dinner of deep-dish pizza, 2 Alli tablets, and a meaty rear-end fuckfest with Delmonico.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Cheddar Wurst

The act of shoving a Cheeto up the male urethra.

NOTE: A Cheddar Worst is a Cheddar Wurst performed with a Puffy Cheeto.

Caleb sashayed into the third-floor West Loop loft he shared with his longtime lover, Delmonico. "Hey girl," Caleb called out in a Truman Capote sing-song, "I got fresh arugula at Whole Foods - I think it should create an interesting flavor contrast with the Pecan-encrusted mahi mahi and that gorgeous Chilean pinot you found."

When he didn't receive a response, Caleb dropped the grocery bag and wiped his smooth pink hand on his ass-hugging Rock & Republic jeans.

As Caleb trotted into the boudoir, he gasped upon seeing Delmonico spread out in a pose completely different from the stance he took when he wanted to be penetrated anally. An empty bottle of Don Julio tequila glistened in the track lightening like the diamond that Caleb someday hoped to wear at his dream wedding once the oppressive laws regulating gay marriage were repealed.

"Delmonico, you're drunk! What the fuck, princess; it's 6 p.m.!"

Delmonico groaned in the same way that he did when he shot a steaming load of fresh come all over Caleb's face, neck, and hair.

"I'm shorry," Delmonico said, his faggot lisp exaggerated by the effects of nearly half a bottle of top shelf tequila, "I pisshed my pantaloons."

Caleb looked down and saw that Delmonico had indeed urinated all over his bulge-enhancing Roberto Cavalli jeans.

"Delmonico," Caleb whispered, his large queer eyes brimming with tears, "what's happened to you?"

"I'm sho shorry," Delmonico slurred, "I just can't deal wish the stress of thesh law shkool finalsh."

Caleb ignored the erection growing in his pants caused by Delmonico's loud expulsion of gas due to the effects of alcohol on his already weakened pyloric sphincter.

"I have a Xanax prescription, silly goose!" Caleb yelled in a way that was masculine for him, "why didn't you just take one of those and get some sleep!"

"I just lost it - I'm sho stresshed out," Delmonico pouted, "I need to get it togesher."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, you naughty little rump ranger," Caleb stated with a "you go girl" affectation, "How would you like a cheddar wurst for dinner?"

Delmonico could not hide his confusion as Caleb strutted back out to the kitchen. Once there, Caleb grabbed a bag of Cheetos that his white trash sister Dakota had left behind during one of her rare visits from Rockford. The Cheetos had not spoiled due to the 47 different types of preservatives present in the delectable snack food.

Caleb open the bag and extracted a particularly long and jagged Cheeto. He then swaddled back to the bedroom with a big homo grin on his botox-smoothed face.

"Let's get you out of those wet knickers, you pole-smoking queer," Caleb sneered, "Maybe this will teach you deal with your stress in a healthy way!"

Caleb proceeded to work the larger-than-average Cheeto up Delmonico's pee-hole. As Delmonico screamed, Caleb knew that Delmonico had both sobered up and learned a valuable lesson about healthy stress-management.

"I changed my mind," Caleb said in a raspy whisper full of promise," Let's have mac and cheese tonight - the Cheeto will make your jizm as orange as the day is long and provide the perfect color to counterbalance the arugula salad."


The sound created when a woman pushes during childbirth and defecates.

Caleb looked more pale than usual as he hung up his micro-mini lime green Motorola cell phone.

"Ding-dong, what's wrong, bitch?" Caleb's effeminate lover Delmonico lisped, "Is Christina Agulara retiring?"

Caleb removed his perfectly moisturized hands from the knees of his 80% linen, 20% polyester Armani City slacks and stared at his cherished come-dumpster.

"It's my sister, Dakota," Caleb minced, "she's gone into labor prematurely - we, like, have to drive over to see her!"

"Oh my god, Caleb, she lives in Rockford," Delmonico pouted, his firm ass accentuated in the moonlight by a pair of acid-stressed Express bootcut jeans, "they eat fags like us for breakfast in that shithole."

Caleb gazed at his boyfriend while picking at the underside of a tooth with his fingernail;
a habit developed during the same period that a pre-pubescent Caleb ruined any hope of having straight incisors by sucking (or gumming) dick concurrent with the development of his "adult teeth".

"Delmonico, we need to support her. When I came out to the family she called me a satan-fellating shit-chomper, but at least she didn't try to beat me with my grandfather's crucifix while my mother drunkenly wept over her Yahtzee board," Caleb said as he unwrapped a watermelon flavored popsicle, "besides, once she's done breeding we can stop by that IKEA in Schaumberg and replace the bedside table that's all covered with shit and come."

"I'm sold," Delmonico yelped,"the smell of that thing messes with my head when I'm doing law school homework."

***Later, in Rockford,***

Caleb and Delmonico skipped through the doors of Rockford Memorial Hospital . “Pardon me, madam,” Delmonico said to the mulleted land-cow seated behind the reception desk. The receptionist slowly glanced up from her Tractor Pull magazine and took in Caleb's lime green fingernails and Delmonico's faux-mohawk with magenta highlighted tips.

“We're looking for Dakota De Laurent” said Caleb, “she's about to have a spawn!”

"Room 503," said the closeted bull-dyke, "elevators to the right."

"Thanks soooo much," Delmonico said, "and maybe grow your hair out a bit, you're tough even for a hick box-muncher. Bye!"

When the happy couple hit the fifth floor, they immediately noticed a conversation occurring at the Nurses Desk.

Caleb stopped suddenly as he noticed an older gentleman dressed in a polo shirt and Dockers.
"Delmonico, that's my uncle Ralph," Caleb said with his head cocked 45 degrees to the left, "I haven't seen him since I was twelve years old when I caught him jerking off while smelling my sister's panties. He ran out ashamed before I could even try to give him a sloppy blow job."

"Caleb, get over here," said Ralph, "Dakota's about to pop!"

Delmonico and Caleb ran after Ralph into room 503. "Push! Push!" yelled the doctor as Dakota screamed,


A flood of pasty yellow feces jettisoned from Dakota's anus as her newborn son's head appeared between her meaty vaginal lips. As Caleb fainted from disgust, a loud blast of vile gas escaped from his weakened sphincter.

Scat Floss

Individuals who eat a great deal of fiber usually have remnants of this indigestible material present in their stool: lettuce, celery strands, etc. Scat floss is a new oral hygene technique wherein one individual shits in another individual's mouth. The shitee chews on the warm, viscous shit and in the process has their teeth flossed by the fibrous strands contained within the massive, oozing load.

Caleb examined his mouth in the mirror, frustration oozing from every pore. "Great veal florentine, Delmonico," Caleb lisped to his effeminate lover, "but now I have these silly portabello mushrooms stuck between my teeth!"

Delmonico did not say a word. He merely stood up, brushed off his Prada jeans, and pranced quickly to Caleb's side.

Delmonico placed a manicured hand on Caleb's girlish shoulder and pushed him into a kneeling position with the calm agression that a lioness uses to bathe her newborn cubs.

With wide, moist eyes like a majestic deer, Caleb opened his mouth wide, ready to accept Delmonico's spicy meat pole.

"Not this time, princess," said Delmonico with a Richard Simmons squeal, "it's time for you to clean out your filthy little mouth!"

Delmonico quickly pulled down his jeans and Bill Blass silk bikini underwear.

He placed his gaping, blown-out anus over Caleb's mouth and squeezed out a 9-inch long log that contained the remnants of yesterday's Nicoise salad.

As Caleb chewed and chomped with the delight of a squirell with a sunflower seed, Delmonico let Mr. Foofer, the couples' prized Shi Tzu, lick his dripping asshole clean.