So, wait. The OP isn’t the original post? It doesn’t look like it was edited. I see I posted in this thread when it first came out, but now I’m confused. What did you screen cap?
Some rando newb account necro’ed the thread out of nowhere with an explicitly detailed recounting/Penthouse letter-style description of how they cheat on their wife with their hairdresser on the regular in full view of everyone.
And then it got deleted, much to everyone’s confusion!
I have said it before and I will keep saying it - empty a post with an admin note, don’t just delete them or it looks like the thread necro’d itself (or worse folks will think other people did it). @stusser
Wasn’t me, I wouldn’t have taken any action at all. There was no spam link and I got a half-chub.
I mean per @wumpus scale it was definitely a spammer, necroing an ancient thread to post an alt.sex.story, but until I see a spam link I tend to let things play out.
So then it must be @tomchick who’s imposing his Comics Code bullshit on us to stifle the free expression of raunchy sex stories in his living room! What a buzzkill! ;-)
And how tall are these women that they are pushing their crotch into your shoulder as they cut your hair? Are you getting styled by Amazons?
The Penthouse letter author explained it; crotch(es) was/were/are grinding their clitori (clitorises sounds wrong) on his fingers resting upon the armrest.
This is indeed quite unusual. I have fond memories as a child feeling bosoms pillowed against my shoulder whist getting my hair cut, but not a single clitoris to be found.
Edit: I mean, I can find 'em now. I’m a veritable clit detective. I can find a clit in 2 seconds flat, boy howdy!
Yep, there’s that visceral need to pull my body as far away from the monitor again. Weird.
I guess I missed this “letter to Penthouse” post, but the OP up top references a “shoulder to crotch maneuver”, which I’ve never experienced myself. Wouldn’t have thought it physically possible, I’d pretty much have to be sitting on the floor.
That is indeed impossible, even as a tyke my shoulder was at bosom height.
It would probably less horrific from you without the recent speight of hyper-detailed descriptions of your shitter-posting regimen.
If it helps, I am absolutely not perched on the toilet right now straining mightily not unlike Spider-man stopping that runaway subway car full of innocents in Spider-Man 2, with my flaccid member pushed between my legs to simultaneously pee without getting any on the floor not unlike Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs while pecking away on the iPad to talk to you right now.
And I’m out! Good night, everybody!
No no no, I said I’m not doing that stuff!
Oh, whew, man, I almost overreacted! I’m back baby!
Would you pee me? I’d pee me!
Dude, heck yeah. Can you PM me the pic? I should probably PM you this note, but fuck it, everyone here knows me and there are no expectations of adult behavior.
Come on Tim. We know your sockpuppet when we see it.