The F Plus - 359: It's Time For Erotic Poetry

Episode Date: August 14, 2021

This episode is all poetry, and that poetry is entirely sourced from Fetlife. This week, How more intense is The F Plus' hunger, Cameron?

Milk the swollen depths of my raging phalanx. Squeezing round like an exalted fart delete delete this post delete this post and what you see is really what you see what you what you what you what you Oh, hello. It looks like you've found the F Plus podcast. It's a sensuous place where terrible poetry is read with enthusiasm. And we've got kumquats up. Suddenly, a hazard to her bliss. Damn, I think I really have to piss.

Frank West. My fetish is learning to be one of those guys who does online kink and who wears a leather vest and reads a bunch of books on kink and has a screen name with Master. Fuck yeah, we've got Shell Game. A turtle happily on the carpet onwards. Her skin is certainly red

at the ceiling. And Lemon, poet seeks muse for inspiration of erotic poetry. My themes include peaches, diamonds, flowers, butterflies, waves, all with essential beats. Contact me for my kick profile.

This is on the level, right? Look at how un-stabbed you are. Hey, Fluff. Oh, hello.Blood. Oh, hello. Oh, hi. Hey, I got a question for you. Would you all consider yourself cultured? Like a yogurt?

Exactly like a yogurt, yes. I do have various forms of, like, fungal things. Yeah, I have noticed, yes. I wish you would stop sending me photos of them. Ever since I got out the Petri dish? No. Okay, well, I think that cultural pursuits are a pathway to human empathy. And in my mind, there's no purer cultural pursuit than poetry.

And I think there's no place better for poetry than the website FetLife.com. Oh! Oh, yes. The classic. FetLife.com, if you're not familiar, I guess its primary purpose is a hookup site for particular kinksters to try to find people that have the same kinks as them.

Not that they're particular in who they choose. They're just a particular, they're specific. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Like, I don't care about you as a human being. But, like, as long as you and I share the same particular predilection, But like as long as you and I share the same particular predilection, then I will either do that thing with you or just talk about doing that thing with you for years. Oh, wow. That sounds even better, honestly. Yeah.

All right. Excellent. So this document given to us by the Lizard. Thank you, the Lizard, for this. And come, Quatsap, I'm going to let you start off. It's a short poem, but I think it's a real mood-setter. It's by one of

my favorite poets, or my favorite living poets, I should say. I'm talking about Naughty Boy 67. Yeah. Wait, I think his name is Naughty Boy 67's writing 48 male slut Belairayer Texas.

Anyway, what is, what's this poem called? I'm coming at you straight out of slut belayer Texas. I would like to talk to you today about my cock's poetry. Ahem.

I want to suck your tits while your pussy sucks my cock I want to kiss your neck while my cock follows its favorite trick I want to put a buck plug in your ass and fuck you silly

with class oh perfect perfect that's just really and in case it wasn't clear my cock is a bigger fan of Picard with class. Oh, perfect. Perfect. That's just really... I mean, and in case it wasn't clear, my cock is a bigger fan of Picard. Uh, Shell Game, the next poem is for you.

This poem is called An Evening's Whisper. Oh, boy. Evening's Whisper? Oh, boy, oh, boy. All right. Yeah, this is mine. I'm mind and body, and this is my writing.

I'm 68, male, from Tennessee. An evening's whisper in the trees. A pretty girl in dungarees. Oh dear. Wow. Sits with me out on the lawn. With nature's night shift coming on

of changing sights and smells and sounds a distant train horn in old downtown and now neath moonlit sparkling eyes a smiling voice is

my cherished prize. We go inside, arm in arm to a happy tune. Then to bed, our bodies spoon. Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah. Man. Next one, Frank West. What you got? The next one. Hey, I'm mystic. Fuck. Man. Oh, next one, Frank West. What you got the next one? Hey, I'm Mystic Fuck. Or maybe that's the name of my poem. I guess I'm Rogue Code. And I'm a voyeur.

And this is my poem, Mystic Fuck. The sex that pivots into transcendence. A flash fused to mystical experience. A sacrament too sacred for the animal-eyed. And too animal-energized for the dull-eyed. What are you talking about? I'm talking about a mystic fuck. Oh, okay, cool.

about a mystic fuck. Oh, okay, cool. The world rules warp such that one plus one equals one or one plus one equals infinity comma but one and one never equals two.

Which is my way of saying no one will go out with me. Maybe mystic, like, Mystic Connecticut? They called him Mystic Fuck because they missed this dick. Mystic was spelled with a C and not a K, so it's not a mystical.

The sex of pivots and their transcendence! Hey, do you guys like ministry? Yes. Awesome. My name is Al Jorgensen, a.k.a. MaxDog39. That sounds like one of his side projects. Yep, yep, absolutely.

This is called Murder is Okay! As long as you're following orders, even if you don't want to, but also you don't want to get into trouble. And don't worry If you feel bad afterward Your victim is dead And feeling no pain Just let that sink in

And your pain will fade away And best of all After that There's no one left to suffer Cha-cha-cha Hey is this And best of all, after that, there's no one left to suffer. Cha-cha-cha. Hey, is this one still related to your fetish? Because if it is, we're going to have to ask you to leave. It does list that they're a don.

Oh, boy. I don't like that this one. The other ones were horny, and this is... I hope it's not. I hope it's not. I'm horny and this is horny. I hope it's not. I hope it's not. I'm horny for murder. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's Max Dog with two X's

and two G's. Get right. Hey, A. Kumquat's up. What makes you horny? Five days and four nights or a laundry basket? Obviously laundry. Laundry. Okay, great. Because I, as you know, am a big fan of the situation.

And that is one of the chief fetishes of the situation. Yep. The situation does like laundry. Well, this is a poem called Laundry Basket. It's written by Wash Me Boy. Oh, and it's British, of course. Yeah. Wow.

Obviously. Definitely British. Obviously. Holy shit, what a British town name. Yeah. A 50-year-old sub. Gwyned. Oh, wait.

Gwyned. Yeah, it's pronounced Gwyn. It's probably pronounced... Yeah. Yeah. Yeahwyned. Gwyned. Oh, wait, Gwyned. Yeah, it's pronounced Gwyned. It's probably pronounced... Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, it's in Wales. Oh, never mind. So it's actually pronounced Gwyned. It's pronounced Dorchester. Dorchester.

Ahem! Waiting patiently in the basket for my time to come for her to load me into the washing machine's drum into whoa okay to be squeezed squashed and smothered in the wash. Just some laundry spinning around with each sudsy slosh. Oh, so this one's also about murder. It's a different, specific kind of murder. Yeah. But here I must wait as socks and towels

rain down. Being in her laundry basket doesn't even merit a frown. Wow. Wow. Okay. Being in her laundry basket doesn't even merit a frown. Wow. Wow. Wow. Okay, the only word I can think of is frown, and I have to get there. It's very important I work the word frown in here.

I know that very soon she'll put us all in her big machine. She'll put us all in her big machine. And like all the rest, I'll be washed, stained, free and clean. Well, I don't know about that. You're going to die. I can't emphasize this enough. Some stains don't come out. But he'll be a clean corpse. I feel like this is something like, this is where we put the PSA for our listeners.

Like, don't do this. But she has showered, changed, and now she's off to work. She looks into the basket and gives a mischievous little smirk. One final handful of laundry dropped in the basket for the day. So here with the other laundry, I will yet again silently stay. So she's teasing you? She's fucking lazy.'s gonna be silent now He doesn't want to be found out

Unless his plan is discovered Laundry edging She saw a full grown man in a laundry basket And went to get the police So Frank West That's me A ranunculus is a Is a yellow sort of flower

A specific kind of Yellow flower And I'm only saying that to you because I need you to read the poem Her deep purple ranunculus Yeah This I'm prof Ax prophylax oh shit

p-r-o-f-a-l-x god damn and uh i'm from boston okay and uh i'm a dom of course her deep purple ranunculus set to three erotic poems for my lover that's the title I mean the only thing ranunculus is usually called a buttercup because the only thing that's distinct

about a ranunculus is that it is yellow is butter not supposed to be a deep purple? mine mine infrequently is but you know maybe you get the cool co-op shit and uh good for you you're living like someone's never had boston butter they call it boston butter it's a delicacy over there. I don't know. Her deep purple vernunculus sets two, three erotic poems

from I love her. Her deep purple vernunculus one. Wait. We have to, like, categorize it. Her deep purple vernunculus set two, categorize it. Okay. Oh. Her deep purple ranunculus set to subsection one.

Deep purple, like the early dawn. My lover's deep purple ranunculus blossoms for me. Yay! Wow, good one. Yeah, that's the whole first one. Hey, to me, this is a set. This is a set. You're supposed to judge all three together.

Yeah, yeah. There's definitely going to be an arc here. Yeah, okay, so that was New Hope. Don't judge my trip-take before I'm finished with it. Okay. Her deep purple ranunculus, too. Deep purple

like blood. Okay, question? Professor Alex, I have a question. Like Highway Star or, um... You know... Nobody gonna take my pussy! So deep purple. So you see something that's deep purple and you go, that's basically the color of blood.

That's what that reminds me of. Yeah, no. That deep purple thing. There's just a lot of purple here in Boston. There's just a lot of purple around. A couple years ago, we spilled purple dye on the whole city, and we've been pretending it was on purpose. Oh, like when that

big molasses thing happened that just turned the entire city purple. Yeah. I'm not going to say anything, but Professor Alex is colorblind. You guys are being really rude. He can only see purple and no one's told him. But he doesn't know.

Like, he just assumes everything on this earth is purple. Yeah. And needs to remark on it. Like, oh my god, the sky is so purple and the grass is so purple. Your eyes are so purple, it matches this beautiful grass and the shirt you're wearing and the sun and the moon. Okay, that's not colorblind. That's not full-on blind. It's the sign of a true poet who can draw out deep, meaningful descriptions of just everyday things.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You had a whole triptych you wanted to bring me in. Yes. So let me just restart part two here. Deep purple like blood. I savor her deep purple ranunculus. That's the end of that one.

What? Well, it is. It is for you. Okay. Her deep purple ranunculus three. Her deep purple vernunculus blossoms and I kiss her. The end. Yeah, it's a three stage sex poem about a pussy, and the third part ends with a kiss.

Now that's just classy. So what words in this poem of poetry did we rhyme with ranunculus? Purple? Does purple and ranunculus rhyme? I was figuring at least, like, homunculus? Or maybe, like, oculus? Or, um, no, nothing. Yeah. Anyway, my name's Wolfheart underscore. Oh.

And my poem's called Garbage. Oh. Oh. I'm blowing her cock like she is. My Jesus Christ, horny. Cross pushing her hole like she is. My holy Mary porn. Spitting sweat or blindly blanding in our blood like blades.

Yeah. Are you spitting in an open wound? Like blindly blanding in your blood. Yeah, like blades. That's what blades do. Alliteration is so good. Thirsty by lust, but I am gently, violently salty, warm, fulfilled by your vaginal storm storm and million seeds can freely erupt gently my finger writes my name on your chest it's a spell it's a kiss it's lust

wow okay kisses after kisses A fairy tale between tobacco Tobacco and punk rock Land Higa Stop, take off Grab your hair to pull you back in the bubble We're not done yet I'm not done with my garbage

Wow That's a good tone yeah uh the next one is titled is this bdsm poetry and it kind of looks like a like a pj harvey song is it can someone tell me i don't know what i wrote here yeah i mean we had we had deep purple then we had Garbage, now we have PJ Harvey. Exactly. Uh, Chelle, you want to take this one? Oh, sure. Absolutely. I mean, yeah, you know?

Is this BDM Poetry? I'm Divine Play, I'm 33 female and a baby girl. Oh, boy. And because I'm such a little baby i don't know if this is bdsm poetry did i accidentally write bdsm poetry push me underwater my dear i need it so bad Push me underwater until I cry tears. Crash over me, crush me like you used to, my dear. And I'll beg for my life. See the flashing of years.

And you'll put me in my place. Make me scream in pain. Or pleasure. Or nothing. Oh, cool. Or something like your name. Make me scream in apathy. Ah. Ah.

Or. Everything at once. Or the universal pulse and just for now I'll disappear I bleed my fear out into the stratosphere see me feel me

everything's free know me grow in me you're a bad disease and we will live forever in this infinite endeavor of the universe imploding in our hearts. Yeah, PJ Harvey.

Wow. Hey, Divine Play? Yeah. No, no it isn't. It's not. Oh, it's not? Oh, that's actually a relief. I was going to give this to my dad.

That's not BDSM or poetry. You seem to want to get drowned to death. So that's interesting. Oh, just a little. Or something. There's a poem we're not going to read called Heaven's Door, but it's got a response from Slave Maggie 420, which is a good name. And she just, Slave Maggie 420 just says, that just made me cry. I mean, same.

Become Quatsop. The one that's right under, uh, Heaven's Door. Oh, boy. The one that's just right under in this document, uh, Heaven's Door. Uh, what's that poem called? Today was a five orgasm day! A poem! Hi, I'm Texas Princess 81!

I'm 39F from Woodlands, Texas! I have such a high libido. It is something innate, I know. I find that I need to play many times a day. I found a way to make today a five orgasm day. Five is my maximum. Five is my maximum so far. I keep trying to raise the bar.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring, especially now that it's almost spring. I am having so much fun. I have also learned a ton. I want to play with rope. It is something hot, I hope. And I like playing so much fun. I have also learned a ton. I want to play with rope. It is something hot, I hope. And I like playing with my toys. It is more fun with men, not boys. Nice.

Oh, that's a good one. Sometimes I still have fears. I even send some tears. It is because I feel so much. I don't stop wanting your touch. Oh, man. It's a love poem at the end. That's nice.

Discord was so overloaded by come watch. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. As the listener of this episode, you're not going to hear this. But yeah, Discord just gave up on it. Discord goes, that's probably a mistake. I'll probably just turn that down for you.

It sort of gave the impression that someone was trying to drag Kumquat away from the microphone and he was fighting back. Probably. Frank West. How naked? How? Yeah, I don't know how. Method Man and Red Man present How Naked.

Hey, I'm Sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-sp-p-sp-sp Just how naked can two people become? With each other? No, really, this is a serious question. I've been researching for years. Christ. The only place I could ask, in the form of poem. I've been cursed to only speak in poetry. What a terrible curse. I'll take the maggots one, I guess. All right, another maggots in the deck.

No one takes the poetry, I don't know. Perhaps it is the only question there ever was. Is it more naked than learning what it is that makes you quiver, that makes you gasp, that makes you whimper softly, muted by your pillow? Is it more naked than learning what it is that makes your left hand transmogrify into a panicked bird, springing up and back to clutch my leg before the paddle can fall again. That's JoJo spoilers, man. You can just do that. Then slowly drift to a rest by the side of your face, your sweet invitation to the hard wood with its terrible love for your flesh. Oh, yeah. Or this.

Just this. This surprising thing that frees one precious sob from your throat like a firefly in the dark released from a giddy child's cupped hands. That was my poem about being naked. Thank you. That was my poem about being naked. One you. That was my poem about being naked.

One of the things that I think the listeners should know is that you respect the listeners' time so much. Do not respect the line breaks in this poem. The surprising thing that frees a sob. Are you talking about her mouth? Whoa, what is that thing? Whoa! Never looked up here before. I mean, if you want me to respect

the line breaks, like, the paddle can fall again, then slowly. I mean, we can do that. Or this. Just this. This surprising thing. That freeze. Fuck.

You guys got all day, right? This is what edging looks like, right? No, you're not a laundry basket. No, right. Yeah, I know. You don't know that. Shell, I'd like a fun poem. Can I have a fun one?

Finally! Oh, boy! Finally! I've been hoping you'd ask for one. Cool. Yeah, yeah. All right, all right. All right, here's a fun poem.

It's inspired by the most fun thing I can think of. Being blindfolded and gagged. Oh, okay. I hope you like it. It's called Only Feel. Yeah, this is insatiable, I'm insatiable pug. I'm insatiable underscore

pug. I'm sorry about that, my pug is insatiable all right all right i can't speak i can't see my mouth salivate stretched open wide my tongue flopping back and forth hey around the gag inside hey my eyes flinch endlessly underneath the blindfold and my body waits impatiently my legs open expectantly my chest heaving longingly i'm awaiting your touch so earnestly this is the weirdest german beer drinking song my skin covers it by myself fiercely i try to sense where you are to sense if you're close to touching me never mind mind, that didn't work.

Nope. Fuck. That's okay, keep writing and saying fuck. Don't let them stop you. Twitchers rising, whining and drooling until I feel the bed creak. And so fast you yank me. I feel my legs dragged forward. Then hoisted into the air.

You enter me with so much force. Slamming into the air. You enter me with so much force, slamming into my body and crashing through my walls of hot anticipation. Big combo! I can't see you, but I feel you. I can only focus on

how I feel you. Then you flip me over. I'm clumsy and disoriented, half expecting what you are about to do. Then you shove yourself into my tight, tight ass and my muffled screens built behind the gag. You remind me of your ownership. Yes, you as you pound it into me and wrap your fingers around my neck, whispering hot breathy words into my ear. Wait, let me clap on the beat. Here we go.

I'm clapping on the beat. I can't see you, but I can feel and hear you in my pitch black world. The sensation never felt so strong. How more intense is my hunger? Hmm, hold on. How more intense is my hunger? How most intenser? How more intense is my hunger?

Carry the two. How more intense is my hunger? I feel like that's... I think that's an impossible equation. I feel like that's like an anime meme that people keep tweeting and I never understand it. Oh, Yugi, how more intense is my hunger?

See, you didn't get that one, Lemon. You're welcome. I didn't get it. I got it. More intense is my senses. More intense is my senses. Okay. That's more intense than your hunger, I guess. Yes. And in the end, my body erupts, quakes and melts for you. Then finally, I can see you.

I can speak to you and look into your eyes and tell you, I fucking loved it. Yeah! Woo-hoo-hoo! That was fun. Yeah, that was fun, right? That was a lot of fun. Good, good, good, good. That's one of the stranger McDonald's ads I've heard, but...

Okay, so this is time for my poem I'm going to move the microphone just a little bit closer Time for you to tune in to my This is my pirate radio station Okay, this is called We rely, shouldn't We rely, shouldn't Shouldn't We rely shouldn't. We rely shouldn't.

Shouldn't. Shouldn't. Shouldn't. We rely shouldn't. It's Australian. It's an Australian spelling. We have different rules. Anyway.

You really shouldn't read this. You're undecided. I just want to. Your kink is undecided. I didn't know it was like choosing a major. Top, bottom, switch. I'll get to it eventually. You really shouldn't read this.

You should really put this down. It's not a funny joke. I'm warning you right now. Goodbye. No good can come. Nope. come back, come back, come back I've locked the door I've locked the door You really shouldn't read this

No good can come Has ever come from looking into my mind I am unsure myself Just what we would find You know I think you're sexy. You know it's die to touch. Fuck, even that alone is saying far too much. I beg you, please don't read this.

Unless you need to know the way I need to burn and ache to hold you hard and close. Perfect. The words are flowing faster now. I feel I've hit a flow. You have not. So is it art or is it true or maybe a little of both?

My left hand on your right hip, my right hand around your throat. Our first kiss screams of violence. We know how far we'd go. Our manic laughs burst out as gasps. As fingers bury deep, warm thighs, soft breasts, and tangled hair. It forced you to your knees last chance for real. I think I've hit a flow. Yeah, that's what I think. I'm pretty sure I've hit a flow

Oh, you've definitely hit a flow Oh, I scrolled down Keep going By I've hit my flow I mean I've peed myself You don't have To go on We'll just stay friends and laugh it off

No one has to know. You just strangled me. I think. We'll just stay friends then. Okay. Can we just stay friends? Is that okay? Just friends with strangle benefits.

Yeah, we'll just stay friends. I'd choke you with my cock until you start to cry. I'd hold you by a knotted leash that I made just too tight. It'd kiss you when you break for air And slap your stunning face You hungry slut You'd beg for me And I would let you taste Something

I'd hang you tied in LEDs Cool Light-bitting naked skin I'd bury my face in your sex. I'd drown to drink you in. It'd pound your arse with anal toys while drilling in your cunt. Ecstasy transcending planes are lust a wild hunt. I'm going to make a rhyme with cunt going there somehow

Each hole I'll fill with tender care Adjusting rhythm as we go A gasp, a moan, a cry of pain Our private concerto. Man, that ruled. Man, that ruled. Adjusting rhythm as we go. Oh, it's the poem.

Yeah, adjusting rhythm, adjusting rhythm as we go. Yeah. Line by line, we're going to just sort of put a few extra meters in here. Each line is in a different tempo, actually. It's your fault for not knowing. I think I've normalized the tempo, okay? I think I've normalized the tempo. So here we go. Here we go. As you hang

by rope and light, suspended in mid-air, I play you like a violin. My cock the bow that draws you near. You know, you did normalize it. You did it. I mean, let's put meter to one side.

Yeah. So she's suspended in the air and he's playing her like a violin with his cock? Uh-huh. Like a Reverend Horton Heat situation? He's just sort of rubbing it against... Just rubbing it against her back? I didn't think it made this sound, but that's pretty cool. I didn't think it made this sound, but that's pretty cool.

Have you ever done the thing where you put a rubber band around a pencil and then two pencils and then you rub them against each other and it's like a violin? I just, it's like that. That's very horny. If you're still in, if you're still in, if you want more, if you're still in, if you want more, then from here, read out loud. I beg you, please, make it real. Can I feel you now? Your breath upon my neck, these hands that grasp and search. Just a sec, I'll raise my arms. Yes?

Is this poem a check yes or no situation? Yeah, you've consented to sex with me. You've consented to sex with me by reading this. Will you be my girlfriend? That's legally binding. Amy Coney Barrett agreed. Wow. Wow.

Thank you. Thank you. I got political right there. That was good. Yeah. Boosh. Your breath upon my neck. These hands that grasp and search.

Just a sec, I'll raise my arms as you take off your shirt. Keep reading while you kneel and kiss along my spine. You bend me slightly forward and trace my inner thigh. I'm wet for you, I know you know. We're taking this too far. A little more, another inch. Please don't make me ask. Wait.

What? Wow. What? What? Yes, like that. Oh, God. Again. My head begins to spin.

Your fingers find my pussy. My warmth invites you in. Oh, fuck. Oh, God. invites you in. Oh, fuck. Oh, God. Again. Again. Yes, Cam. Yes, Cameron.

Fuck me hard. Oh, whoa. What? What? What? I'm Sloan from Ferris Bueller. Or I'm fan fiction. I want to come all down your arm.

Put your arm right there. Okay. No, I'm suspended in midair, so I'm going to kind of balance Oh, that's true, yeah Gravity will do the rest I need to make it last Yes, more like that again, again Now please use your tongue Now please use your

Town, towngy I feel the waves I feel the surge The pressure building up Oh please, don't tease. I need you now. We both want so much more. Just kiss me, Cam. By Cam, I mean Cameron, by the way.

Then fuck me, Cam, which is the name that I use for Cameron when I date him. Wow. You are saying this out loud. I'll be your little whore. God, it really is like, oh, you read this. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, no, see, that's not so much a consent thing. That's more like a, we'll both be in the same mall.

And when you read this out loud, I'll know it's you. You'll look up from the bench. And I'm over there at the Auntie Anne's Finger gunning right back to you So we are all, I believe at this point Pretty much in the Christmas spirit We're in the Christmas spirit, which is great Because from Coon Rapids, Minnesota The great, because from Coon Rapids, Minnesota, the cultural home of

poetry, Coon Rapids, Minnesota, we've got 12 days of a BDSM Christmas. I am that fine BDSM poet. I'm talking about Geek Master. Good. I'm 53, and I'm

a primal. I don't even want to know You're with the Beast Tribe Summoning Final Fantasy XIV That's for no one I just really like that bad Far Cry game That's all Those are both video game jokes Good job

We did it Take that Frank Anyway so this is The 12 days of ABDSM Christmas here we go On the first day of Christmas my master Handcuffed me to a branch

On a big pear tree Oh no Starting strong Yep Okay that was the first day On the second day of Christmas Starting strong. Yep. Oh no. Yep. Okay. Okay. That was the first day. On the second day of Christmas, my master gave to me. Two nipple clamps.

While handcuffed to that pear tree. On the third day of Christmas, my master gave to me. Three good tugs. On the two nipple clamps. wall handcuffed to the pear tree on the fourth day of christmas my master gave to me four probing fingers three good tugs on the two nipple clamps to the pear tree on the fifth day of Christmas, my master gave to me five vibes that sing. Four probing fingers.

Three good tugs. On the two nipple clamps. All handcuffed to the pear tree. On the seventh day of Christmas, my master gave to me. Six clitty rings. Five vibes that sing. Four probing fingers. Three good tugs.

On the two nipple clamps. To the pear tree. You're doing excellent, Frank. Very, very good. You're doing excellent, Frank. Very, very good. You're really... Every time. Thank you. There's like two extra syllables in your arm.

Oh, so good. So good. I will not break. I will not break on this one. On the seventh day of Christmas, my master gave to me seven paddle whacks, six pretty wings

five vibes that sing four probing fingers three good tugs on the two nipple clamps while handcuffed damn it to the pantry

on the eighth day of Christmas my master gave to me eight whips that crack, seven paddle whacks, six clitty rings, five vibes that sing, four probing fingers,

three good tugs on the two nipple clamps while handcuffed to the pear tree Jesus, we're still going but how many more things are in this fucking store? Alright, here we go

Which one are, oh nine, I think we're on nine Okay, on the ninth day of Christmas my master gave to me nine, oh that's one minute. Fuck. My master gave to me nine nasty pinches.

Whips that crack. Seven paddle wax. Six claddy rings. Five vibes that sing. Four probing fingers. Three good tugs. On the two nipple clamps. While handcuffed to the pear tree.

You finally found it, Frank West. That's wonderful. All right, here we go. On the tenth day of Christmas, my master gave to me... Ten tender touches. Nine nasty pinches. Eight whips that crack. Seven paddle whacks.

Six clitty winks. Five vibes that sing. Four probing fingers. Three good tugs. On the two nipple clamps. And a pear tree. On the eleventh day of Christmas my master gave to me. Eleven loving kisses.

Ten tender touches. Nine nasty pinches. Eight whips that crack. Seven paddle whacks. Six clitty rings. Five vibes that sing. Four probing fingers. Three good tugs.

On the two nipple clamps. I made that one longer. That wasn't good. To the bear. Fuck you. Ah, we're almost done. Me on the 12th day of Christmas my master gave to me. 12 silver chains.

11 loving kisses. 10 tender touches. 9 nasty pinches. 8 whips that crack. 7 puzzle whacks. 6 clitty rings. 5 vibes that sing. 4 probing fingers.

3 good tugs. He sounds like a werewolf. He sounds like a goddamn werewolf. He sounds like a weird he sounds like a goddamn weird one he sounds like Cookie Monster he sounds like a weird Cookie Monster oh shit

on the two nipple clamps pear tree pear tree pear tree we were synced it's fine we'll fix it in post oh no no what's to fix that's the Christmas spirit right there

oh what did we learn from any of that, F4? We're really good at singing. Yeah. Yeah. That's true. Man, man, I think, you know, they write it, and we just deliver it in the spirit in which it was intended. Yeah.

It's direct artist-to-performer synchronicity. Yeah. Yeah. Direct artist to performer synchronicity. Yeah. Yeah. I genuinely did learn. I expected them to all be horny poems, but it turns out that some of these people are still just writing like teenager poems, but they're 60.

And I guess this is just where they post because they're 60. Well, you know, you build up a community like that. You meet the FetLife people. You, you realize that you're, you're people you you realize that you're you're you're you're you're among your friends and you're just like well this is what i want to do for

everything now you guys got restaurant reviews where do you want to go uh let's talk about jill stein everybody uh i learned what is and isn't a BDSM poem. Okay. Well, all of those were, so what isn't? The one that I read was not. The one that asked, is this BDSM poetry? That one's not. Do you think you could do like a BuzzFeed quiz?

Like a 12-day quiz? Oh, yeah. I mean, what is the 12 days of BDSM Christmas, but a song in listicle form? Oh, God, no wonder I hate it so much. Like, also, I mean, just on the topic of that last one, like all Christmas songs, like, 12 Days of Christmas fucking sucks, like, structurally. Like, it's so bad. It's like, hey, this thing, I'm just going to keep repeating this shit. And, like, I'll add to it, but only, like, non-meaningfully. Yeah, I think you're, I mean, it's a song that's meant to be sung while you're drunk on eggnog,

and this person probably wasn't. Well, good point. Do you want to be drunk on eggnog? We've still got some for some reason. It's the way you said it. And if you're looking for great, delicious eggnog recipes, you probably won't find them at BALP. That's B-A-L-P dot I-T.

People sometimes post pictures of food that they make. I am sometimes guilty of doing that particular thing. But, you know, that's okay. Sometimes it's okay. But can you find 12 pages of intro to those pictures of food? Not yet. Not yet. I think, so we've got a thread with 85 pages called

What Did You Make Today? And so that means that we need 385 pages of threads called Intros to What Did You Make Today? Well, people will have to, like, backfill. Yes. Like, I love spaghetti! Spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti.

Have you ever had spaghetti before? Mmm, it's tomatoey goodness. I call that one. Anyway, we've got some merch sometimes. Bye. Bye. Bye. Put your lovin' hands out, darlin' Beggin', beggin', you Put your lovin' hands out, baby

Beggin', beggin', you Put your lovin' hands out, darlin'