Among the pornographic gold (not literally, and yet kind of – I didn’t know they published golden showers) given to me last weekend by Jen were two issues of Penthouse Forums; the magazines filled with stories that start “Dear Penthouse, I never thought it would happen to me but ..”. While there are some pictures in these magazines, they’re all about the stories which is great – some of my favourite Smuttons are the ones with snippets from trashy erotica.
For the last week, I’ve been randomly Tweeting/blogging the same phrase over and over:
The silence was broken only by the sound of his best friend’s zipper.
This, my friends, is the single greatest sentence ever written.
It’s from a run-of-the-mill Penthouse Forum letter: he licked this, she sucked that, she inserted slot B into slot B, he emptied various things all over the place, she was insatiable, he was able to go five or six times in one session – but the writer obviously missed their calling as a mastermind of hardboiled fiction. The story ended with everyone spent and sweaty, blissed out on the orgasmic aftermath and enjoying the peaceful stillness, until the silence was broken by the aforementioned sound of his best friend’s zipper.
I *love* this line. It’s pure pulp fiction GOLD. I want to get it printed out on 10” high wall decals and put it above the love seat in the living room. I desperately wish I was clever enough to come up with a snappy loaded line to end my posts with; something that someone like me would find hilarious enough to quote on a regular basis like some kind of drunken douche bag demanding not to be tazed, bro. It’s good to have goals, I suppose.
All this raunchy content is doing my libido no good whatsoever – Ed is out of town for 5 days, and I keep talking about spending my weekend fucking strangers. I’m kidding, I think. I told Ed he had free rein to do as many drunken bridesmaids and/or sexy insurance brokers as he wanted, but he seemed rather put off by the thought. I still haven’t come to terms with his persistent, perpetual heterosexuality – and now he won’t even exercise THAT? Goddamnit. Being all talk does me NO GOOD WHATSOEVER.
Why must my vagina be thwarted at every turn?