I’m still on vacation. Here’s another retread from the Savage Love archives, which I’m sure scholars of human sexuality will pore over someday, pondering archaic sexual practices like solo piss play and ancient slang terms like wack.
We get a lot of letters here at Savage Labs. While every letter is unique, and everyone’s dumb-ass problem is compelling in its own special way, patterns do emerge. Wet’s letter is a good example of what the kids in the mail room call HTHs, or “How’d That Happen?!” letters. You see, Wet’s doing this completely wack thing–peeing on himself in the bathtub–and like a lot of folks doing wack things, Wet has some concerns. He has questions about the advisability of this behavior, so he writes a letter, something that he no doubt thinks took some courage. But in composing his letter Wet chickens out: he fails to take responsibility for his actions, casting himself as a passive player in this bathtub drama. He may be peeing on himself, but it wasn’t really his idea.
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(1) Can I get infected in any way by dog germs on my pussy?
What rings false, of course, is her responsibility-avoiding HTH setup. Help Me would have us believe that she fell asleep on the floor, wearing only a T-shirt, and “awoke” to find the dog lapping away at her pussy. What more likely happened was this: Help Me was dog sitting, feeling horny, and Mr. Dog was doing those horny things horny dogs do (nosing around her crotch, humping her leg). So similar was Mr. Dog’s behavior to the behavior of males of her own species that Help Me was intrigued. Tempted. So she did this wack thing and it felt so good she did it again. And now she’s freaking out.
(3) Pretty fucking sick.
Of course, this doesn’t explain why week after week you keep going back for still more blow jobs, Mr. 200 Percent. Did the masseur leave his thumb in your butt?
