Q Who the hell wears swim caps anymore? I haven't seen a swim cap in years. That question in your column last week from the swim-cap fetishist getting off on his visits to public pools was bullshit. I would think you, of all people, could see through it.
—Sexy St. Louis Girl
A Lots of pools require swimmers with long hair to wear caps, SSLG—but, hey, no need to take my word for it. Google "swim caps" and "required," marvel at the predictable results, and then send me something nice by way of apology.
At least one reader calls bullshit on every letter that appears in this column. My readers—my sexy, vigilant, whip-smart readers—need to remember that they're reading heavily edited versions of the questions. I'm forced to trim letters for space and privacy concerns, which can result in the omission of certain corroborating details. So you'll just have to trust me, okay?
Q I am happily married to a girl in her mid-20s. She recently brought home a Shetland sheepdog that she excitedly explained she had saved from the local pound. Later, I was in our neighbourhood on business and decided to stop by the apartment to save the money I would otherwise spend on lunch. We have a rear door that opens into the living room and I couldn't believe the scene I discovered upon entering: My wife, nude, spread-eagled on the couch, her Shetland sheepdog lapping eagerly at her pussy, ecstatic moans escaping from her throat! She ran to the bathroom as I stood there stunned. But the worst was when I noticed the open jar of Nutella sitting on the coffee table, a faint odour of hazelnut and chocolate in the air. We have never spoken about what happened. Are there health concerns she should be aware of?
—A Dog at Most
A Now this is a fake letter. About half of the fakes I get follow ADAM's basic script: Man walks in, discovers his wife/girlfriend/sister/mother getting it on with a dog. Usually the woman has peanut butter smeared all over her crotch, so we'll give ADAM a tenth of a point for creativity.
If ADAM's letter didn't include that tired old story about a dog eating pussy would we still be able to tell that it's a fake? You bet.
First, there's the piling on of unnecessary details in a self-conscious effort to make the letter seem more plausible. The wife didn't just explain, she "excitedly explained" she got the dog from the "local pound," as opposed to a pound in Singapore or Sweden. There's the needlessly elaborate explanation about how he came to walk in on the wife: ADAM was in the neighborhood on business, came in through the back door (which opens onto the living room?), all because he wanted to save a few bucks on lunch. There are the clich<0x00E9>d phrases lifted from a mildewed copy of a mid-1980s Penthouse ("lapping eagerly," "ecstatic moans escaping from her throat").
Most revealing, is that ADAM wants us to believe his wife is in her mid-20s. Not just because it's sexier—ostensibly—to picture a nude 25-year-old woman "spread-eagled on the couch" but because this letter, like most of the fakes I get, is really about the sexual degradation of women as a group.
Q I work with a hot girl at a restaorant that likes to get Tahesian Face Masks. Now if you have never heard of them before, it's when someone unloads their feecis on the other person's face. She started out with guys her age, but recently turned to older men because their shit is thicker. Will her fetish cause her problems later on down the road?
A Another hot chick doing something disgusting—although as penned by this subliterate dickweed, it's technically the restaurant that's into Tahitian Face Masks, not the girl. Once again, typical adolescent male fear of female sexuality, curdled by resentment. (Hey, what do you think the odds are that the author of this letter was dumped for an older man?) Both ADAM and DC, like many fakers, don't write about something they're doing, but about something someone else is doing. And both wind their letters up with kind-hearted expressions of concern...another dead giveaway.
Q I'm a straight, 22-year-old female. When I'm going down on my boyfriend, he demands that I pick his nose and feed his boogers to him. My boyfriend says this is no big deal; he says it's actually a very popular practice.
—Booger Blow Girl
A I cut most of this letter—blah blah boogers blah—and it's not just the gross-out factor that gives this one away, but something readers don't usually get to see: the email address.
WalletFullofSemen@XXXXXXX.com doesn't sound like an e-mail address a woman would use, does it?
Q I'm a 22-year-old straight male. A few weeks ago, I went to a party by myself. The party was fine, but a couple hours into it, this guy I don't know, a really intimidating dude with huge muscles, pulled me aside and took me to an empty room.
So this guy tells me he is gay and wants to have sex with me. I said no way, I'm straight, and I don't think you want my huge cock up your ass! He asked to see it. Because he was standing in front of the door not intending to release me, I dropped my pants and let him look. His mouth dropped open—my cock is huge. He decided he didn't want it up his ass, but he wouldn't let me go until I let him put his dick up mine. Not wanting to fight, I had to agree. So he started doing it with me! It hurt at first, but soon it started to feel SO good and I stopped trying to resist. Then I let loose with this huge, explosive orgasm.
I'm straight and I don't want to give up my awesome girlfriend, but that was the best damn fuck I've ever had. What do I do?
—Fourteen Incher Needs Advice
A So the "straight" author of this letter "stopped trying to resist" once that muscle-bound, shirtless-cause-it-was-hot guy put his dick up FINA's ass. Gee, did anyone detect any resistance on FINA's part prior to penetration? I didn't.
Another common theme in fake letters: the "totally" straight guy who never even considered the possibility that he might be gay until this incredibly intimidating gay guy came along and fucked him—so totally against his will, dude!—and treated him to an orgasm so explosive it blasted his heterosexuality away.
Fear—that's what the fakes are all about, SSLG. Fear of women, fear of sex, fear of homos. Not the fear of swim caps.
Spread your indignation: firstname.lastname@example.org.