They say it’s traditional.
So it must be all right, right?
Right?
from dissfunktional
This thing, it’s up there in the Octopus Sex Man Gets Off realm, only apparently it involves tens or even hundreds of thousands of Chinese women.
I don’t really know how to report this sickening story other than with the straight (or, rather, deeply twisted) facts, so here they are:
Feral donkey a ‘boost’ for women’s sex drive
* Top (End) donkeys sought for libido aids“They’re after a lot of donkey *****. As much as they can get their hands on,” Mr Fleming said.
NORTHERN Territory donkeys could soon be helping to increase the sex drive of Chinese women.
I guess even they‘ve completely given up on Chinese men.
raincoaster 
That video is disturbing, especially after some guy in Washington State died from it.
Donkey skins to improve women’s sex live? Eh, not so much.
The one who’s really in danger is his asshole buddy who filmed it while laughing.
Well, you can see the fence plain as day in the video. Why the guy didn’t just pull his damn pants up and zip through there is the question that really lingers.
That guy in Washington State? I gather he wouldn’t have wanted to go any other way. That farm, btw, is still in business.
That donkey must be pretty hard up if that’s the best he can do.
There are no donkeys in the video, just two asses.
I ran into a video somewhere where a woman and a man decided they were meant for each other because they both enjoyed getting off on equines. So they married each other and they both do it all the time with their pony. They didn’t show the actual act, they were just being interviewed. Very sick.
Is that pony eighteen? Something tells me no.
That must be another marriage made possible solely by the internet.
I can’t say I’ve ever tried donkey punch, I hate those little floating bits of orange you get in it. In fact I’m not over-fond of any kind of punch.
However, punch is free at many social occasions, and I find if you serve any woman enough punch she’ll eventually love you.
Oh–except for that time I was trying to pick up those women from the Tabernacle Choir. Those girls can drink!
That was the Vienna Boy’s Choir and boy, were you drunk!
*snork*
No, no … they were both mezzosopranos, not boy sopranos.
And they were definitely women. I can tell female from male nine times out of ten.
Oh–Are you still having trouble with that? Well, never mind, I’ll send you some flashcards.
But try to sober up by the time they arrive in three weeks or so, otherwise we’ll just have that same misunderstanding all over again.
Nine times out of ten, still means you get it wrong at least twice on a weekend.
Hey, if I got lucky that often with that many different people on a weekend, I’d probably accept that margin of error.
Is your dating theme song still “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” by the way?
Very amusing. By now you’d think you’d know better than to phone the escort agency and ask for “Potpourri” but you probably think it’s some kind of weed reference.
Yeah, but from MY dealers I get service. Okay, so it costs a thousand bucks per ounce …
You left off a “d” there.
*snork* No.2
Well at a thousand bucks to the ounce I better get some kinda customer loyalty bonus!
I’ve seen your dealer and wouldn’t call that a bonus.
Well I understand. You’re not in a position to appreciate a sharp, inquiring, mind, gorgeous face, and 36B bra size.
Let’s face it, you’re into clammy, damp, tentacles. And downright suspicious beaver, as any regular reader (if such exists) can tell.
Of COURSE my beaver is suspicious. You should see some of the men around here.
Beavers know the difference between good dam wood and the rotten stuff.