My girlfriend layered salami all over my chest, then ate it off. I wasn’t turned on. In fact, I was grossed out. I was all gross and greasy. She said she wants to try it with liverwurst sometime. What the hell?

— Not a Sandwich


A lot of people combine food and sex.

Usually it’s licking caramel sauce off each other’s taints or lubing each other up in Nutella — not tabling a cured meat charcuterie board on the chest, but we’re each our own pretty little sex freaks.

Why slap on whipped cream pasties when she can lick liver paste off your sack?

(When she orders a sub, does she make zoo noises and rub her body with bottles of giardiniera? Then take you home and re-circumcise you with a soppressata, pancetta and prosciutto turtleneck? You guys are weird. Wait until she starts jamming summer sausage logs into your starfish.)

Her savory sex is satisfying her salt thirst, but you’re not into it. I get it. I don’t like being greasy either — only when your dad dips a fried turkey leg in Crisco and paints me like a canvas.

Communication, pal. Tell her. It’s a partnership — every sex session doesn’t have to barf an Italian deli. She should oblige to your fetishes, too. So if you want her to pull beads out of your ass, so be it.

I suggest she switch to a nice water-based, processed ham. It’ll wipe off shiny and clean.

Fantz in Your Pants:

My wife and I were talking sex positions and we both came to the conclusion that the 69 is too much work. What’s your take?

— We feel 96

Old Farts:

Hey, let’s create a 96 position. It’s between-the-sheets, ass-to-ass rubbing (both parties swathed in flannel) with a sole purpose of maintaining body warmth because Wife refuses to turn up the heat at night. (My bad.)

I’ll maintain what I’ve always thought about the 69 — it’s annoying. Naysayers will chastise, but let’s face it, we’re lazy. You and I are alike, as we prefer the old-fashioned kind of night. Call us conservative, but we like to be bent over the kitchen table with a ball gag in our mouths while our partners pull our hair and whip our asses with a meat tenderizer.

I was discussing the 69 with work colleagues … I mean at the playground with my friends. We agreed it’s a whole lot of awkward. There’s maneuvering and cramping up for something that can be achieved faster while flat-backed and relaxed.

Do me, and then I’ll do you back. I don’t want to vacuum while you’re cleaning the floors. Let’s take turns at twitching, squirting, grunting and making awkward faces separately.

Judge my laziness. But when a Charlie horse assaults your thigh while you’re sniffing dingleberries, I’ll be chillin’ on a pillow top, exhaling smoke.

Now, Husband, keep your filthy hands off that dial and saddle up. It’s time to 96.

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