Sit On My Face And Tell Me That You Love Me

The following is a sad, but true, Friday afternoon, email conversation between me and my friend:

Friend: Look what I found today on gay.com:

man just looking to get rimmed and orally serviced tonight (I have a rim seat). No reciprocation...I only host...44 years old...white, 6-2, 275-pound long time lifter here in Delco (nearPhilly airport).Mmmmmmmm dare to dream.

Me: I feel like someone owes me an explanation about why that would be appealing to anyone's sensibilities. But, alas, I think no one has the answer. It's like trying to describe the color of the wind, or what God tastes like.

Friend: I asked what a rim seat was. He said:

Powerman***: a rim seat:
powerman***: is a toilet seat with short legs
powerman***: I sit on it with you under it face up...you get deep tounge [sic.] action into my muscle hole.

Mmmm….tastes like God!

Me: I knew I could count on you for investigation purposes! Thanks for guaranteeing that I never have an erection again.

Friend: I wrote:

friend: ahahahahahahahhahahaha
friend: no, no really, that sounds really nice...
friend: for me to POOP on!
friend: ahaha, I kid! I kidd....

Me: I would laugh at that if I were able to still feel emotions. So, are you meeting up with him tonight?

Friend: Well, it's more of a rendezvous. I think meeting sounds so business-like. What we have is romance.

Me: Jealous doesn't begin to describe how I feel. I wish I could be there to let you know if you have something on your face or in your teeth, like after lunch.

Friend: *retch*

Me: Ditto. Bye.

Who says this isn't the classiest, most insightful blog around?

And with that, Happy Weekend! Is it happy hour yet?