The Humor In Following Sex Advice To A T


Erotic Tips You're Better Off Not Taking?
Hilarious emails from a detail-oriented lady who did exactly what a sex columnist told her to do.

I was still dedicated to mastering each and every position in the issue, but a mutual outbreak of hives the following day curtailed our scheduled activities even further. My hombre would not even attend Sensual Time yesterday, even though our skin has mostly healed and I am able to walk around without assistance.

Your September travel issue arrived today, but we’ve put off trying the "Airborne Ninja" and the "Tandem Bicycle Blowout" until next month. I fear we might be suffering from a crisis of confidence. Any recommendations?



Cowgirl Gone Mild

Subject: Method acting
Date: September 2, 2005 12:45:45 AM EDT

Dear American Vixen,

My guy and I are creatures of habit, and though we're mostly pretty comfortable, I sometimes sense that he's getting a little bored. So when I saw your article on role-playing for long-term couples, I thought it might be worth a try. I decided a realistic portrayal would be all the more erotic; why play an inauthentic French maid when I could observe my next-door neighbor, M., a genuine French female, up close?

For four days, I concealed myself in M.'s yard, studying her every move. I adopted her hairstyle and many of her alluring mannerisms—the smoldering looks of abject hatred, the je ne sais quoi, the dangerously volatile hands—but there still seemed to be something missing. It had to do with the texture of her skin. Even through binoculars, however, I could not identify the various creams and potions on her dresser. So I found it necessary to force entry—in the dark of night, bien sûr—for the sake of my research.

It is worth mentioning that though M. seems in other respects a fairly solid citizen, her driving style is highly erratic—even dangerous—and she often yells French curses at innocent passersby. So why a woman who is so obviously a danger to the community should be allowed to roam free while little old me is shackled with an unfair and highly inconvenient restraining order is somewhat of a mystery.

American Vixen, please help me clear my name. And also, if you could, please speak to M. on my behalf. I know that if I could borrow her Christian Louboutin pumps and matching alligator clutch for just one night, I would truly capture her spirit.

Sorrowfully yours,

Vilified Vixen

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