KELLY CANER
Staff Writer
I raised an eyebrow as my silver fox chiropractor was lathering Biofreeze into my childbearing hips. He was rambling on and on about realigning my spine, but the only thing that needed realigning was his full, enticing mustache onto my lips. I kept drifting off into fantasizes about how erotic it’d be to feel those tough whiskers caressing my cheeks.
Fantasizing: we all do it at some point in our youthful, hormonal years. Some more than others, of course, but it is nothing to sneer at. There is danger to fantasizing, however. I am a notorious giggler, and as soon as I kept internally commanding my chiropractor (who looked frighteningly similar to Richard from friends) to “moisten me,” I began to burst in laughter.
I spent a vast majority of my steamy summer fantasizing during my summer internship at some old white dude’s law office who had hands that resembled oatmeal cookies. I sat across a desk from my fellow intern, Edwardo, who had those big ol’ Daniel Radcliffe thick eyebrows that I just wanted to roll around in. We’d make copies together and as I was lost in the sensation of warm pages I’d start thinking about Edwardo takin’ a slice out of my corporate cake. We’d make love like wet, slippery sea otters on the copy machine. But this never actually happened, ever.
The fantasies grew out of control as the summer progressed. I was to visit my born-again Christian mother in June who lived in California. As I boarded my flight and nestled into the middle seat, I looked up and saw two naval officers striding toward me. “Oh sweet mother of god…” was all I could muster as they sat on either side of me, sandwiching me. My mind was spinning a fantasy that actually had a title: “Sex Plane,” in which a young impressionable woman would be pleasured in secrecy by two naval officers. Now here is where I went wrong — what I advise all you frequent fantasizers not to do. I started writing the plot of this fantasy down on paper, titling the naval officers as “anal” officers. To no one’s surprise, the gentleman on my left saw the filth I wrote and slowly inched away. It was a really uncomfortable flight.
Fantasizing is undoubtedly entertaining, especially when the only action you’ve gotten all summer was from your guinea pig ejaculating on your chest before waddling away while smacking his brown leathery lips in pleasure. My advice to all you fellow fantasizers is to live out fantasies! It is safe to live in the comfort of our imaginations, but maybe in life, we need to grab the Edwardos of the world and take them for a ride.