armpits – Contemplating the divine

Books do furnish a dungeon

Due to the unparalleled reach of this blog (other blogs may – indeed do – reach more people and indeed many of the same people, but none will be exactly parallel), book publishers tend to send me ‘flyers’ for their latest publications. I thought I might as well chuck them onto the blog, as you lot will wank to anything with pretty girls saying vaguely pervy things, and it’s a lot easier than doing anything creative.

Available in all good bookshops, but you might have to go along way to find a bookshop good enough, these days.

Relentlessly romantic

And it makes her life easier too – she can focus her disciplinary efforts on gratifying her own sexual desires, instead of constantly having to make you scream for mercy over simple household tasks inadequately carried out.

You don’t want to make it her problem, believe me. She employs very effective problem-solving techniques.

Well she could look a bit more interested! I mean, here you are, ready to scream your guts out as you thrash around in agony for everyone else’s pleasure…

I can date to the very day – almost to the very stroke – the moment I reached the same realisation, in my own blissfully happy marriage.

She’ll get the hang of it. You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few kitchen slaves, am I right?

Actually, she’s unfairly disparaging* AFM’s technology section here. Just in the last few issues they’ve reviewed all the latest electronic air fresheners – focusing on how easy it is to change the scent they disperse – they’ve had some fascinating pieces on the microfungus ecologies that thrive and provide such rich aromas from even the cleanest armpits and they have tested out all of the latest AI models with a carefully standardised prompt crafted to induce them to describe a particular activity (can’t remember what it was) in as much detail as possible. Plus reviews of shaving technologies obviously.

*But then, Ms Palvin is very welcome to disparage me unfairly as hard and as often as she wants. I live for the hope that one day she will.

New year, new armpits

I have occasionally featured material from this blog’s sweaty sister publication Armpit Fetishist Monthly. Now as you all know, AFM (as the cognos-scenty call it) has long ago abandoned its origins as a jazz mag for lonely perverts with a bizarre fetish for mainly shaven female armpits and has branched out into trenchant political analysis, social commentary and artistic ideas that set the cultural agenda, for lonely perverts with a bizarre fetish for mainly shaven female armpits.

But it has never forgotten its roots and this year I am delighted to bring you the girls from the AFM 2025 calendar!

But you won’t cry, I know

Angry tears are too dear.

She likes it when you say please and thank you, but you need to get used to saying them quickly, because once she starts using alternating hands, it gets pretty fast.

Men need to take responsibility for their own behaviour. His body, his fault.

They say when you’re in a hole it’s best to stop digging… although my experience has always been that if I’m digging a hole I’d better damn well keep digging as fast as I can, until she tells me to stop.

Don’t get your hopes up, she rarely keeps the boys she collects when she’s out.

And if she does finally snap and put you on the leash, for goodness’ sake don’t make her drag you along. It’s not fair to expect her to do all the work in the relationship.

She doesn’t realise what a career boost a photo feature in AFM can provide. Take a look at some of the shots from the magazine I’ve featured here – A-listers, almost all of them.*

* Fans of AFM – yes, there are some, you’re not the weirdest reader of this blog, you know, not by a long chalk – can look forward to a great start to 2025. No spoilers, though.

Prank-mags

Some more very bad attempts to create magazine covers. Just ignore me and I’ll probably stop doing this, out of embarassment, sooner or later.

AFM has already been mentioned in several captions in the blog, so I thought I’d give ‘readers’ a glimpse of what it looks like. Frankly, once you’ve seen one issue you’ve pretty much seen them all, I think, although remarkably it’s now in its seventeenth year of publication. It just goes to show, as I always like to say (when I can’t think of any other way of finishing a comment off).

They always have a celebrity interview but, like the divine Ms Kidman’s in this issue, it’s usually disappointingly short.

It’s a top-shelf magazine, of course, mainly so that laughably short sissies have to blushingly ask a big tall man (or, if they’re very lucky: woman) to reach it down for them.

Pain points

These ladies like to emphasise them.

Probably best to clear two hours, there’s no point in rushing these discussions.

Oh well, if it’s complicated probably best not to inquire further. Anyway, you’re paying for this time. Let’s play!

For the avoidance of doubt, I am sure that in real life Goddess Lady Skotia plays safely and delightfully, so the widow’s fascinator (such a lovely word) is just part of the outfit. And she does look very fetching in it.

“I am her Highness’ gimp at Kew, pray tell me Sir, whose gimp are you?”

It’s Mike I feel sorry for. *She* might not be bothered where her shots end up but he has to run to fetch the bolts back. A fully cocked crossbow fires them at several hundred miles per hour, so they go a long way if nothing gets in the way to slow them down.

Miss Chambers from Cruella a long time ago… such a pretty nose.

That’s a bit unfair. I frequently get quite close to girls who are having real sex, sometimes under the very bed where it’s happening.

Winners focus on winning. Losers focus on winners.

She builds you up just to put you down

What a clown.

Funny how often that happens. It’s as if the spinner’s drawn to that outcome.

I discovered very early on in my dating career that the secret to really satisfying a woman sexually is to make sure she never meets me.

She has a similar approach to the men in her life – she likes them hungry, but not actually starving to death, or at least not too quickly.

She likes to feel a big cock inside her, so why can’t you?

Remarkably, AFM won a Pulitzer back in 1957 but its editorial standards have slipped a little since.

Unequal sex

It’s the best sort…

I read somewhere that the medical advice on stress has changed. It used to be seen as something for middle aged and older men to avoid, but apparently recent research has shown that repeated stress and anxiety can make men better at all sorts of useful things, that more than compensate for any loss of life expectancy.

I admire Sylvia’s idealism, but isn’t it about time we all just admitted that men are just too stupid for most modern jobs? I mean, nothing personal guys, but we all know it’s true, right? They’re even inventing artificial intelligence now, before the males of the species have managed the natural kind, so really I don’t see the point in trying to catch up. There are lots of things men are better at than women – mostly involving manual drudgery – as long as they’re firmly supervised, so isn’t that enough? Why just set yourself up to fail?

Always difficult, playing with amateurs. Oh well, how bad can it be?

He also consented to several amendments to that agreement, after a few days of marriage. Funny how there’s always a few things you didn’t think of, isn’t it?

…and two extras, why not, both inspired by a recent post by the femdom blogger-in-chief, Paltego on Femdom Resource.

Domestication

Actually, the silver brushes are worse – just ask your future father-in-law while you’re doing chores.

It’s not fair to expect her to whip you every time something needs doing, now, is it?

It’s good they’re talking about money, though: many couples don’t and it can lead to a lot of pain in their relationships.

He thought that a biology-class themed session would be all about sex, but instead he’s learning lots of useful facts.

I find that having a pair of electrodes nestling lovingly against my skin helps keep me closely in touch with her feelings. I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if I could.

And make her some great Princess, six feet high!

Grand, epic, homicidal.

Armpit Fetishist Monthly is just another example of the decline of traditional media, another fine publication swept away by the Internet. I recall their cookery page with particular affection.

…and by the way, I have posted this before even with the same comment, but… Oh. My. Goddess. I have to see this movie!

My office established a system of disciplinary procedures for inappropriate sexual activity. Which to my mind is just having your cake and eating it too… or would be, were I allowed cake.

I’m thinking of paella – perhaps a nice Rioja to go with it? And maybe Roger might like to try bastinado, in keeping with the Spanish theme.

With luck, she’ll take up chewing gum obsessively.

Love hurts and so does she.

By the way, this lady is going to feature here rather a lot from now on. Unless she takes out an injunction or something (don’t you hate it when women do that?). Nata!