Show Notes

The return to podcasting after a very long break Malflic, The Chesty Blonde and an assortment of friends are back to catch up on the life and times of just another set of suburbanite kinksters, their stories, lives and an explanation of the hiatus.  Plus a reading of Malflic’s Short Story Bunnies and why I kind of hate holidays that explores why bringing him home to meet the family might not be his kind of thing.

Script

Intro

You’re listening to exercising my demons if you’re under 18, or live in sexually repressed area where discussions of a frank and sexual nature are prohibited then please leave now,  move, get off your high horse, or pull the giant stick out of your ass.  Other wise enjoy.

The Chesty Blonde

Did you miss us?   We certainly hope so but even if you didn’t we’re back so tough shit.   For those of you who did, we missed you too!  You can still find us at show@malflic.com.

Before we officially get started here’s a brief lame explanation for the hiatus.

MALFLIC

On occasion I have a bad habit of disappearing into the night.  I wish I could say I was away at an 18 month intensive bondage class, was off inventing invisible rope like wonder woman  would use or something cool like that.  But I wasn’t.   Sure I would have loved to have been the only man stranded at a swingers convention surrounded by hundreds of morally questionable women, or to have finally broken in to the adult film industry as the first short fat guy other than Ron Jeremy.  But I didn’t.  Ok so I didn’t even try.  Disappearing into the night is actually its one of the things I do best in life, the truth is I had very little to say.  Well at least on the kink front of things. It was so bad that I wasn’t even talking dirty to random strangers just for the hell of it.  Instead I considered living a more normal life, the economic state which truly caused me great pain since.   The free market system is really the only thing I ever really believed in.  When it fell apart I started questioning a lot of stuff…like.  Is capitalism bull shit?  Is our country now really a socialist state?   Why can’t I get a decent porno at the local adult book stores around here? And should I just give it all up…shine my shoes and not my boots and get down to a normal “healthy view of life, relationships and sexuality.   I took a long hard look at the politics of conservatism and change going on around us in the country and gave serious thought to playing in that world.  It made me sick.  I lost sleep over the entire thing.

People use to say that something would drive them to drink.  Being the untraditional guy that I am I went the other way and quite drinking for the most part.  I quit a lot of things…some good some not so good.

Then I simply said fuck it.  I’m old and apathetic.  I hate political bullshit but the way I see it both sides are on a slippery slope to hell and not listening to the citizens.   Health care reform my ass.  When they start lining up the special interest guys, trial lawyers and big pharma along with the other problem children the others then I’ll get on board.  I kinda dig the whole sarcastic prick  commentator bit and if all both sides are spinning is bull shit then while you might not see me at a tea party any time soon if they start hosting vodka parties, leather nights or XX I’m so there.   So fuck it do what you know.   With that this will now be a mix of my life and times like it has been in the past, a few fictional stories here and there, a little tongue in cheek social commentary mixed with irreverent political humor little more often.  And now I’d like to return you to your regularly schedules dose of smut, sin, and rough sex.

The Chesty Blonde

What can I say?  Only when it comes to Malflic the ropes aren’t the only thing that’s a little twisted.  Actually comparatively a 100 foot of hemp is hardly twisted compared to his sick little mind.  I just keep hoping his name doesn’t really end up on a ballot somewhere.  Of course he wouldn’t be the first guy in office with a thing for little brunettes, thigh high stockings, wax, and combat boots.   Moving right along

We’re strong believers in giving folks a  fair warnings. That said if you’re a new listener or have strong religious convictions this might not be the post for you. If you have a sense of humor about religious matters or simply like heresy and sacrilege then by all means keep listening.

So with that behind us.  Sit back relax. And once again let your imagination run wild.  And so we begin… Bunnies and why I kind of hate holidays.

Malflic

Its not that I’m not a festive guy but when it comes to holidays most often I’d rather call out for Pizza, gulp down a few soda pops and stare mindlessly at sports on TV than anything else. Now I like a good party as much or more than the next guy, to me good parties don’t involve the need to push religion, go to church, or pray for anything other than my mercy. In which case prayer is probably ok since its to me and I get to enjoy your suffering. Ever doubt that god is a Sadist? Look around! A good holiday includes heavy drinking, something other than baked ham, a multitude of raucous parties to choose from, scantily clad women, and things that go boom, crash, or bang. And like a good party a good holiday has a nice palpable amount of sexual tension.

It might just be me but religiously themed holidays tend to miss that mark ever since the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Which brings me to the topic of Easter and or Bunnies. The holiday I most recently survived as a pagan in the holy land of the mid west; a place where there only thing there is more of than banks is churches.

This holiday started like so many others. I woke up which all in all is usually a good start. A pot of Coffee and Two mindless movies (Old School and Back to School) before everyone else woke and off I went out to gather breakfast while the good god fearing folks were in church.

Then came the family obligations… it really is difficult being a pagan in a Christian world. Just a week before at a party some one pointed out a nice young lady in her mid to late 20’s and said she had known her since youth group. I told them that’s too bad I thought she might be a fun girl. They vehemently insisted that she was until they realized what I meant. They blushed, I grinned like the Devil.

Now I know there are all types of Bunnies. I had a fuzzy white one named Dana as a kid. There are longer eared, fluffy, short hair, Playboy, Easter, and my favorite – Bondage Bunnies. Now I like playboy bunnies but that’s not the topic at hand its the fact that yet again the day that celebrates Bunnies like no other was filled with chocolate and food and the never ending competition of who loves Jesus more the the Presbyterians, the Baptists, or the New evangelical types that stalk my neighborhood. Despite all these religions duking it out in God’s name there was not a single new bondage bunny for me to play with at any of the festivities that I attended.

It’s disappointing. It’s like wanting a new toy on Christmas and getting a fucking GAAP text (Generally Accepted Accounting Principals). Oh sure there was the requisite hot but totally nuts brunette there to tempt me, the generations of family gathering in celebration, violent ground acquisition games played as people pushed and shoved in the pursuit of a magical money bearing plastic egg. I choose not to participate for fear of trampling the young and elderly. Rather I watch from the sides standing near a blazing bonfire with my most frequent of addictions in hand – caffeine.

It was in fact a pretty good day. This city boy went to the country. I got to see chickens (hot sauce and deep fryers were not involved), talk about killing stuff, and gambling (which despite my many vices this is not one of them) and there were even chains involved. Usually when chains are involved I’m a happy boy but this time it was to pull a car out of the mud with a tractor. Lame American made cars in bondage isn’t even my idea of a good time.

If only some mythical creature would have left me a few new bondage bunnies all would have been perfect. Oh well now its time to gear up for the next big holiday the immaculate feast of things going stupid fast and intoxicated loose moralled spectators. It involves things might go bang, catch fire or blow up, The Indy 500. Sure its not Shibaricon but fast cars and drunk girls is never all bad in my world. Speaking of which I still need to pay Hammer for my tickets off to write him a check.

Finally a postlude

Before the “Jesus Saves” crowd freaks out AGAIN and starts spamming me (again) with liturgy based mumbo jumbo or intending to save my pagan godless soul I am not claiming to be god or a deity of any sort. I’m happy that you love the lord, that’s great keep loving him and being happy about it I’m not trying to stop you. I love a lot of things but I’m sure don’t want all the details so spare me yours OK? Yes I know I’m going to hell the nuns told me that in second grade.

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