Seymour Totti’s Foreign Policy

.
Occasionally I get asked if I ever miss the fulfilment of a long-term relationship and the comfort of a stable home. And the answer is always no, not in the slightest. I tried the relationship thing, they’re great at the beginning but eventually I always feel manipulated and taken for granted.

Some people do find their soul mates and that’s great for them but I think the closest thing I ever found to soul mates were two women who picked me up after one of my wrecked relationships and put me back on the rails.

Sally and Fae ran a small company. I’d tried to chat up Sally in a pub one Friday night. The chat-up didn’t go quite as planned. I found myself getting interviewed as a potential freelancer that she could do business with at a later date rather doing the business with later that night.

A few days later she introduced me to Fae and I did business and the business with her first. It was a couple of weeks later, after a liquid lunch, that Sally finally asked if she could come and see my etchings. I asked her if she was sure. “Absolutely,” she replied, “Fae has told me all about them.”

The idea of an open relationship was never specifically defined, it was left to settle gently. The honesty was a bit of a shock at first but it wasn’t long before it felt perfectly natural. Over the next couple of years we all remained good friends with work-lives and sex-lives happily overlapping.

They never invaded my life, never bought me shirts, never invited me to meet the parents and never expected me to spend my Saturday afternoons trudging round shops looking at shoes. They were happy with me just as I was and because of that I felt a deeper affection for them.

Nor was there ever a hint of jealousy. Though we frequently had dinners and drinks together we never did have sex as a threesome. “You wouldn’t expect that of sisters now would?” quipped Sally the only time I floated the idea.

Sisters? I looked at her long, blonde Nordic form stretched out on the bed an then thought of Fae, who was a delicious tropical mix with the African genes getting a slightly upper hand, and decided not to pursue that line any further. This was already fantasy enough … for now.

The pictures want to click with you

Click the pic and pull the pudding

.
.
.
Looks like I’m going to be suffering from Hypersexual Disorder by the year 2013. Hypersexual disorder is essentially enjoying frequent sexual activity with lots of different people, or at least wanting to.

I don’t suffer from it yet because the book in which it is going to be defined, The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders - which apparently is the dogs bollocks of psychiatric reference books - isn’t going to be updated until then.

Those of you that think I’m already sick (yes, I got your e-mails) needn’t laugh either. You are going to be classified as suffering from Absexuality Disorder along with everyone else that gets a secret thrill out of being disgusted by porn and obscenity.

I would reply to your missives but I can’t be bothered. According to the new book that means I also suffer from cognitive tempo disorder.

And there are plenty more; Intermittent explosive disorder means having a hissy fit and sexual arousal disorder is the new term for “Not tonight dear, I have a headache.”

Speaking to The Times Online, Darrel Regier, research director of the American Psychiatric Association and a member of the task force working on the manual, said: “One of the reasons for doing this is that we are concerned about establishing better thresholds of diagnosis for people with a genuine disorder.”

I think he’s suffering from Elevated Importance of Quackery Syndrome which is; expanding the market by inventing new conditions to diagnose and prescribe for.

Click the pic to see some photos of Japanese nurse Nana Takesita who, I might add, has a perfectly edible shaved pussy. Better do it quick, pretty soon they’ll be coming after you with straight jackets and bromide tea.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Durex have been promoting new Featherlite Elite Ultima a lot recently. How are these different from garden variety Featherlite Ultima I wondered. After their last re-pimping effort I was a tad suspicious. So I called up Ellie and put the matter to her. “Exactly the same,” she said, “just a new box. Bring a pack of each anyway and we’ll compare”

Ellie is a young lady from Shanghai who I’ve been seeing recently. Her clients are ususally businessmen and financial types from around Asia which normally would put her out of my league but she says; “I like to speak English with you and I like big, fat English sausages. I give you good discount.”

I picked up the condoms on the way over to her place. The foil wrapping on the individual pieces confirmed what she had said. Never-the-less she took one away and stretched it, sniffed it, poked it and filled it with water while I took pictures of the boxes. Afterwards she put me on the bed, deftly slipped one onto me and clambered on top. “That’s the old one” she said, giving me a delicious wiggle. Then she jumped off, changed it and repeated the process; “See, just the same.”

Keep doing that circular wiggly thing, I told her, I just want to be sure.

See also: Condom wars