Sliptongue Vocabulary Guidance

by Robert Scott Leyse

For Biographical Guidance click: HERE

A-Maying: act of giving expression to the giddy restlessness of springtime. Say a man reports to work on a Monday morning, fresh from a riotous weekend. Instantly, the walls of the office building close in upon him, hammer at his temples, induce feelings of being crammed into a space too small. Yes, how intolerable to have to spend a beautiful spring day indoors, be required to perform inane tasks, when the euphoria of his weekend, far from having played itself out, is continuing to course through his body! He'll go mad with accumulated energy if he doesn't obtain a means of release! So he's soon being extremely charming and persuasive to the attractive administrative assistant who's often blushed at the touch of his glance. Likewise under the influence of springtime's stabbing stirrings, she finds she isn't unwilling to accompany him to a vacant conference room at lunchtime. Once the door is shut and locked, they climb atop the table, trade tongues, intertwine hot taut limbs -- the walls recede, tingling waves of joy overtake them, spring rains its bounty down upon them from the inside out. Both of these resourceful people could be said to have gone "a-maying."

Ass-Mauling: sex-game in which one of the participants lies on stomach (and often assumes a nave, trusting, or innocent expression) with posterior fully displayed. The other participant crouches in the covers on the far side of the bed like a wildcat in the undergrowth of a forest and then (1) springs upon the exposed posterior with many snarls and roars and (2) freely claws, kneads, nips, swats the firm succulent globes. The owner of the posterior makes a great show of being taken by surprise, utters mock cries of terror, and thrashes about. Both parties generally end by being convulsed with hysterics. As one die-hard practitioner of the game declares: "My girlfriend and I can't do without the ass-maul routine -- I'm always the crouching cat, of course[]and when she's giggling and wiggling uncontrollably and twisting all over the place with loud squeals and my hands are grabbing and I'm rubbing the cheeks of my face on the cheeks of her ass and the room's spinning -- well, it's the best mini-vacation, therapy, healthy frolic a man could possibly want!"

Cab Driver (I): man who's adept at masturbating a female with his right hand while masturbating himself with his left hand while steering the car with his knees.

Cab Driver (II): man who knows where the randiest waitresses work and when their shifts end and what sort of underthings they wear and where and how they most like to be touched and what their favorite sex-games are.

Cathouse: institution of higher learning, where many a young man has obtained a much needed indoctrination into the mysteries of life. As Kirk puts it: "Before Uncle Tim took me to the cathouse in the swamp in Mississippi I was an inept, bumbling, pathetic, girl-shy idiot! I mean, Sylvia-Sue used to torment me without mercy in math class with those pink panties of hers! Used to sit across from me and spread until those pink panties were in plain sight; and, try though I might not to, I'd always go red in the face and get dizzy! Cruel Sylvia-Sue! She made no bones about laughing at me! She'd start to giggle right there in class; and all the other girls knew why, though -- thank God -- none of the guys did! But after I spent that afternoon with Lascivia in the cathouse and got to see and touch and taste and fuck first hand the pink that awaits behind all pink panties… Well, suffice to say that Sylvia-Sue didn't laugh at me again! How so? Because, now that I'd been shown what's what and knew what to do, I came to an understanding with Sylvia-Sue in the parking lot the following Tuesday during lunch hour and had a fine lunch of pink pussy in the backseat of her car! No longer unnerved by the sight of her pink panties, I was pulling them down her sleek legs and tossing them aside: one visit to the cathouse turned my life around! Sylvia-Sue continued to flash me during math class, but the sight filled me with thoughts of fun to come; instead of being paralyzed with confusion, I was rapt with appreciation!"

Cat Woman: woman who lives with cats instead of humans, talks of the cats and nothing else, and doesn't enjoy people as company. We've heard that a cat woman's idea of sex is to smear fish oil between her legs and entice the cats to lick it off: apparently the roughness of their tongues is quite titillating.

Cubicle: excellent place to exchange caresses, kisses, and ass grabs at the office: the uninitiated will never suspect anyone would dare do such things without a closed door to separate them from potential observers.

Defensive Disrobing: when a female, sensing that a male is rapidly losing patience with her bratty behavior and is about to shove her out the door, strips off every stitch of clothing to prevent him from doing so. Once the said female is stark naked, she glares defiantly; often, she makes comments such as: "As you can see, I'm not leaving until I want to!," "No man would throw a girl out of his place without her clothes on!," "So, Mr. Smart One, what are you going to do now?," or "You'd better tell me you love me, and make it mighty convincing!" Adds St. Fond: "And the minxes are right: what guy is going to toss a naked girl outside? The moment they strip, they're holding all the cards and they know it! And don't bother with seeking to dress them against their will, either: it can't be done! Believe me, I've tried! Doesn't matter if she's a petite thing: if she doesn't want her clothes on, they're not going on! The instant you try it, she's a squirming enraged cat: not a chance of getting her arms inside those sleeves! So, you're stuck: might as well be tactful and say the things she wants to hear and cuddle awhile and wait until she puts her clothes on voluntarily; because, until then, you've got company!"

Delight in Deception: fetish of only being able to fully savor sex when someone is being deceived. Being pleasured orally by a married woman in an unfrequented corridor of the graduate library at a major midwestern university would be an instance of delight in deception.

Emergency Mouse: a mouse of the rodent variety (not the computer navigation sort) kept in a hidden place in one's dwelling for the purpose of scaring off over-possessive and/or tantrum prone females. James T. elaborates: "I keep a white mouse in a sizeable cage and care for it well; when a girl comes over I conceal the cage in a cabinet in the kitchen and feel secure in the knowledge that, should she become troublesome, I have an easy means of getting her to leave. The other night Sadie, a highly temperamental girl, decided to dredge up some ancient offense I committed and become difficult -- among other things, she emptied a bag of popcorn on the living room floor and smashed a glass in the bathtub; I wasn't going to 'get off easy' she declared. Well, I simply strolled into the kitchen, retrieved the mouse from its cage, and dangled it in her face by its tail -- ha ha! I've never seen a girl dress so quickly, gather her things, and depart! The emergency mouse thing works like a charm! It's a lot less messy than pushing a girl out the door by force."

Firm: place of business, often with a carefully cultivated image of respectability, where sex is nevertheless readily had with coworkers in conference rooms, cubicles, storage rooms, rest rooms. As a woman of our acquaintance puts it: "Sometimes I can't wait for the boring weekend to be over and thrilling Monday to arrive because I know that, instead of soaking in the tub or perusing catalogs, I'll be getting all the girl action I want. Missy and Stephanie both have boyfriends that keep them busy on weekends but, come Monday, we're showing each other how much fun the girl side of bi really is. I remember two Mondays ago, first thing in the morning, clawing at the mirror in the girl's room while sweet Steffi was muffdiving deep with her wicked tongue. I was quite the harlot that day and probably came close to a dozen times, the best being when I was straddling a cubicle divider and sliding back and forth against it while watching Missy suck Steffi dry. And to think that some people don't like Mondays."

Fuck-Me Dress: flimsy excuse for a dress, high at the hemline and low at the neckline, that clings so tightly the girl's curves are swishing in one's bloodstream before one has a chance to blink. A cutie in a fuck-me dress is saying, "Hey, you! I'm already naked -- reach out and touch me -- the merest caress will remove this skimpy thing from my bothered and willing body -- all I want is to be gasping with rapture while you strain my jaw with a hard kiss, maul my ass, bother my breasts, pound the back end of my pussy raw!" On the other hand, fuck-me dresses are also a favorite of flirts, who enjoy advertising what they'll not deliver: "Nah, nah," they say. "Eye-rove me all you want, sweet talk me all you want, but hands off: it's only my teddy bear collection that'll see this tease-piece come off!" A randy-dispositioned girl at work, when informed that the ultra-short hemlines of her dresses were inappropriate for a professional environment, began to wear a different variety of fuck-me dress. The following day she arrived at the office in a very tight ankle-length evening gown; the gown was translucent white and she wore a half-cup brassiere and G-string, both black, underneath: the shapeliness of her body had never been better advertised. As an observant young man in the mailroom said: "It's as if she's buck naked!"

Hooker-Honking: game played by New York cab drivers. Occasionally, out-of-town males request to be taken on a tour of streets frequented by hookers so that they can stare at the skimpily clad lovelies while persuading themselves they're acquiring a seamy-side-of-life experience. So the cab driver, in order to treat them to a far more up close and personal experience, vigorously honks the horn while gesturing for the girls to come hither and pointing towards the back seat. The girls, mindful of making some money, come running and hop in the back -- something that generally throws the out of town males into a great deal of consternation. "I'm doing them the favor of jarring them from observational mode into panic mode," declares Donny, a driver at the Midland garage. "I mean, panic's a far more memorable emotion, right? I'm giving them an experience they'll remember! I'm enriching their lives! Not to mention treating myself to some fun! The looks on their faces when the girls they were gawking at in safety are suddenly sitting next to them, aggressively plying their trade… Well, it's priceless! It's the 'What have we gotten ourselves into now?' look! It's discomfort rapidly spilling over into terror! Later on, after they've vigorously protested and compelled me to ask the girls to leave, I play it innocent and say: 'Sorry, I thought that's what you wanted.' Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Killjoy: a dour-faced mirthless individual whose sole purpose in life is to ruin the fun of others: only by quenching all trace of liveliness about them can such individuals escape the distressing truth that their lives are exceptionally vapid. Killjoys are very frequently selected for supervisory positions: they readily swear allegiance to their employer because such grants them license to ceaselessly berate and intimidate those in their charge; unlike an ordinary individual with at least some aptitude for happiness, they'll ruthlessly stress production at the expense of comfort and eagerly be the company's spying eyes.

Male Lesbian Delusion-Case: a man who, because he feels he's in tune with the feelings of women and is convinced that he's privy to their secrets and shares their aspirations, mistakenly concludes that he's a "male lesbian," notwithstanding the fact that his anatomy will forever stand in the way of his attaining to such a distinction. As our friend Ms. H. says: "This 'male lesbian' business is the silliest nonsense imaginable! It seems that some men like to think that their willingness to listen to girl-talk automatically entites them to feel they're girls too! As to why a man would want to suppose he's a girl... Well, some guys think it will entitle them to be that special exception who's allowed to lay any lesbian they happen to fancy; they think we'll spread for them because they insist they have feminine sensibilities! Ha ha! And then there are the guys who simply want to be in our 'woman's reality,' whatever that is! I mean, they want to listen to all our chatter and search our purses and fondle our makeup and flick our hair around and inform us how much they identify with us and insist that we confide the most personal information to them! They want to be sympathetic companions, and drown us in sentimental mush; and, again, they feel meddling in our lives is justifiable because they're 'male lesbians' and 'understand' us! They are, ultimately, the worst pests! What do they want to be in a 'woman's reality' for, anyway? Would I want to be in a 'man's reality'? Hell no!"

May (as in, "I'm going on a May."): act of gathering flowers in May. In other words, a man who's managed to, on a single May day, (1) lap-fuck a Scottish redhead in a confessional box after breakfast, (2) desk-fuck a German blond in her office after lunch, (3) wall-fuck an Italian brunette in a doorway after dinner, and (4) spend the night with a sassy Dominican -- a man who's managed to do this has, truly indeed, gone on a highly successful May.

May Apple: flowering plant that appears in woods in May and produces a soft, edible, egg-shaped fruit. Also, any lovely flower of a girl who, rendered itchy and impatient by the arrival of spring, ventures into the woods to calm herself. Away from prying eyes, she disencumbers herself of her clothing and wanders amidst the soothing greenery -- perhaps she reclines in the rushes alongside a babbling brook and ecstatically stretches, spreading her thighs wide, so that her moist, pink, edible fruit is soothed by whatever cool breeze happens by.

May Day: the debut of Sliptongue occurred on May Day, 2001. May Day, in times past, was an important holiday on which the commencement of spring was reverently celebrated. Cold gives way to warmth in April -- buds appear, flowers blossom, cheerless brown landscapes become a joyous green -- giddiness blurs thinking, sap surges in awakening veins, impatience with daily routine mounts. May Day Eve arrives, restraint's euphorically cast aside -- throughout the night, people rove the woods gathering green branches and sexual escapades -- squeals, moans, and cries resound from wooded valley to valley as the girls turn inside out to the rhythm of rigid Maypoles driving pleasure home. Sliptongue urges readers to uphold tradition by finding a random fling-thing on May Day Eve, and welcoming the arrival of spring in her (or his) arms.

Mayhem: chaos that often results when people are suddenly thrust into the midst of unexpected, traumatic, or dangerous situations. Say a funloving young man's tied up a randy wife with silk scarves on the living room couch and is in the midst of stimulating her with feathers -- she's rapt with eyes shut and back arched, savoring the tickles which set off sparkles in her nerves and seem to bring her coiled depths whirling to the surface. Suddenly, the sound of a key being inserted in the nearby front door seems to roar in our game-playing couple's ears: there's no time for the feather-wielding young man to run and hide, much less untie the wife. The husband (who's come home far earlier than expected) steps into the room, very plainly sees what's going on, and dashes at the young man with a yell; the wife commences screaming while thrashing against the hold of the scarves; the young man knocks a dresser over in his frantic efforts to escape the enraged husband: this situation would be an example of mayhem.

Maypole: a tall erect staff that's decorated with leaves, flowers, and ribbons at sunrise on May Day (see "May Day"). As May Day progresses, frolicsome lads and lasses whirl about the maypole in ecstatic dance, becoming entangled in the ribbons, each other's arms, and the yearning looks in their eyes -- hunger mounts, exploratory caresses become forceful embraces, spoken endearments give way to compelling kisses -- couples break from the group and run off, ribbons streaming from their desire-animated bodies, to worship the onset of spring in private -- the lissome lovelies part their thighs, allow the tall erect staffs of their partners to inundate them with the true meaning of fertility and rebirth.

Mile High Honorable Mentions: (1) when a person receives oral stimulation while seated in the passenger section of an airplane after it's ascended more than 5,280 feet; (2) when a person masturbates while seated next to an unsociable, and fully awake, stranger in an airplane after it's ascended more than 5,280 feet. The blankets so considerately provided by the airlines easily function as a veil for both activities. "Nor," points out Sterling, "is it to be counted as nothing when one succeeds in coming to an understanding with a kindly stewardess and backing her up to the wall in the serving area in the back of the plane with the curtains pulled: one eases one's hand up her thighs and grasps her succulent buttocks and squeezes while exchanging tongues and it's a very nice whetting of the appetite for the even more delightful games one will play with her on the ground, after she's finished working."

Muffdiving: the fine art of contenting a female's nether region in oral fashion -- titillating the wet pink pussycat with one's tongue -- sating the hungry blossoming flower -- soothing those parted petal itches -- slurping away all coilings of tight tension. We defy anyone to name a more engaging activity.

Nun Stun: sex game/contest practiced by spirited schoolgirls at slumber parties. First, there's an interval of dress-up fun in which they adorn themselves in nun outfits; thereafter, they subject each other to increasingly frenetic bouts of the candlestick masturbation treatment: the last girl able to support herself on her hands and knees without collapsing in happy exhaustion is the champion. Further light is shed on the game by Fiona: "So the dress-up part's a lot of fun: we put on black or scarlet stockings with seams running up the back. And my, but how nicely silver stilletoes go with the black and white nun costumes! And we tend to get pretty wild with eyeliner - make real nice cat's eyes, or even do drawings on each other. And then we're basically pretending that we're all bad girls from good aristocratic families in 18th century France that have been shipped off to a convent for punishment and discipline, and that a strict Abbess is prowling around in the hall outside our room. And so we set about compensating for the oppressive treatment we're receiving at the hands of our families by dipping candles in olive oil and having at each other with them! A candle guided by a skilled hand (such as yours, Susie dear!) is such a thrill! And it's all done by candlelight, of course! It's a scream of a romp, one of my favorite forms of stimulation!"

Pineapple Upside-Down Cake: when a limber female does a handstand against the wall with her legs spread so that one can enjoy tonguing her pineapple from above. "I like the visual aspect of the pineapple upside down cake game," asserts St. Fond. "The wench's lean legs are fanned out against the wall, and form a nice V that guides one's eyes straight to the other, moist and rosy and warm, V between them; plus the girl's all taut with the effort of supporting herself in that position: sheer heaven to grasp her firm rear and rub against her tight stomach while tasting of her juice!"

Riding Crop: stiff leather rod seldom more than two feet in length, originally invented for the purpose of flogging the hindquarters of horses and getting them to move quicker. A subsequent use of the riding crop, equally beneficial to the human race, is the disciplining and/or stimulation of spirited females. There's nothing quite like the sight of a proud girl's face after she's been bent over the back of a couch and swatted with a riding crop -- the highly appealing mixture of outrage and disbelief, the eventual look of authentic apology and repentance. There's nothing quite like the sight of a lithe cutie relishing each stroke of a riding crop, crying out, "Cut me harder -- punish your slut!" while thrashing in the sheets.

Stuffed Animal Girl: female who's devoted to her collection of stuffed animals, treating them almost as if they're living pets. Stuffed animal girls are generally petite, cute, vainglorious, and fond of being dramatic; openly lavishing excessive affection on an inanimate representation of a cuddly creature appeals to their instinct to tease and flirt. Fiona elaborates on the nature of stuffed animal girls: "I was over at Shelly's and she was postponing our fun by rubbing her cheeks all over a teddy bear's fluffy head and caressing it like crazy, cooing stuff like 'You're so cute, Honey Bear! What would I do without you? You're my best friend!' Well, I wanted to be trading places with that bear and Shelly knew it and was rubbing it in: any attempt to draw her attention to myself was met with a squeal of alarm and the declaration that 'Honey Bear needs love!' What did I do? Quite simple: I grabbed a couple stuffed bunny rabbits and began easing one up each of Shelly's legs, saying, 'These randy rabbits want to stimulate you with their softness!' Meeting with a giggle and no resistance, I moved them up to her thighs under her nightie -- soon I had Shelly naked on her back on the carpet with that silly bear set aside. As I caressed her with the rabbits I tickled her petals with my tongue; before long, she was too aroused by my tongue to care about being caressed with the rabbits: I'd succeeded in trading places with the teddy bear and every other stuffed animal in the place, and we ended up having a memorable night."

Sun Shock: onslaught of sunlight when one emerges from an after-hours club in the late morning or early afternoon after having danced all night. Most reliable remedy for sun shock is to hop into a cab, clasp one's dance partner close, and continue kissing until safe haven indoors is again obtained. "God, I hate that sun shock shit!" attests Niccolo. "After a night of paradise in a club one has to step into the daylight to get home -- the sun's like a slap in the face, shriek in the ears, knives in the nerves! It's like I'm being chased home by the daylight! I can never get back to my shuttered apartment soon enough! And only then, when I'm away from that Godforsaken sun, can I fully get back to having a good time with the cutie I'm with!"

Valentine's Day: day on which males are expected to overtly bribe females for sex. A box of candy, sentimental card, and bouquet of flowers is the minimum amount allowed and might yield several worthwhile hours of oral pleasure. A weekend booking at an oceanfront hotel replete with bubble baths and room service might yield some "French maid with a feather duster" games, dozens of "hide the strawberry" sessions, a general state of sex-trance induced by unbroken hours of indulgence. A sapphire ring might yield a pony girl weekend, all the tie-up games one could possibly wish for, days of the mink glove and chiropractic nerve device stimulation treatment, and a trip to the altar one could well do without. Some females believe Valentine's Day occurs at least twice a month.

Wanker: pretentious individual who never has the slightest idea what he's talking about, always seeks to force his lack of intelligence on others, and has never had an original thought in his life. Wankers are capable of reading an hour's worth of inane observations into the content of a half-minute television commercial. Wankers loathe literature, only read fly-by-night trendy books, and think public television programming is the highest point that culture has reached in the history of the human race. Wankers parrot phrases pertaining to tolerance and understanding, but are easily offended by just about everything. They are smug pseudo intellectual poseurs who delight in establishing artsy cliques at work, school, and cafes: endless jabbering about all the magnificent works of art they are going to create takes the place of actually doing anything. A wanker's idea of creativity is to be far too self-referential to be comprehensible to anyone else.

Sliptongue Vocabulary Guidance
© 2001-2003 Sliptongue

 

 
     
     

 

 



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