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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 naïve, 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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