Ecosexuals getting it on You and I are now being encouraged to become ecosexuals, who are loosely defined as people who have sex with the earth.
No, I did not absentmindedly put down “with” instead of “on," although ecosexuals having sex with each other (which also happens) do prefer to do it in the mud, weeds, brush or forest, rather than some mundane indoor location.
This is understandable—go back along any of our ancestral trees and you’ll come to a branch where all of its members were doing it on the ground, because for sure people were thinking about sex long before they were thinking about making furniture. And despite the invention of the many, many things that modern people have sex on—the bed, the hotel bed, the kitchen counter, the coffee table, the steps going down to the basement, the scungy old sofa in the rec room, the back seat of your grandma’s Buick, the massage table at the House of Joy, the bondage rack and the spinning sex chair, some of us may still experience the atavistic urge to enjoy the afterglow of sex with a little gravel still stuck to our backs.
But actually sexing with the earth and the things that sprout on its surface is what sets the tribe of ecosexuals apart from the merely desperately horny. What this consists of is left intentionally vague, although much of it seems to deal with pollen. Look at the pics yourself.
In any case, when someone tells an ecosexual to “go hump sand,” the ecosexual can become legitimately aroused. Unlike traditional green movements, the ecosexual is not a tree hugger. He is a tree fucker. When an ecosexual complains of being caught between a rock and a hard place, he is probably just letting you know where his penis is situated.
Ecosexuality has its opponents, of course. Conservatives, for whom sex means only missionary-position with the wife, or getting spanked by prostitutes when she’s out of town, are predictably against it. This hit piece in Breitbart places ecosexuals a few rungs lower on the you-disgust-me ladder than LGBTQI’ers, whom they find massively disgusting. But they bravely throw the LGB-etc. folks a lifeline, in the form of allowing that ecosexual passions are even harder to understand than theirs. This is the closest the right gets to tolerance, so we need to commend them for it.
What they fail to consider is that ecosexuality might just be a put-on, that all these people taking pictures of themselves rolling in fields of pollen are doing it just to freak the straights out, and when they actually have sex with each other they do it in the conventional way, by having a massive multi-sexual orgy in someone’s dimly-lit porn den. The joke's on us. Now I feel better. I’ll make myself lunch.
Hey, what's this on my cucumber?
No, I did not absentmindedly put down “with” instead of “on," although ecosexuals having sex with each other (which also happens) do prefer to do it in the mud, weeds, brush or forest, rather than some mundane indoor location.
This is understandable—go back along any of our ancestral trees and you’ll come to a branch where all of its members were doing it on the ground, because for sure people were thinking about sex long before they were thinking about making furniture. And despite the invention of the many, many things that modern people have sex on—the bed, the hotel bed, the kitchen counter, the coffee table, the steps going down to the basement, the scungy old sofa in the rec room, the back seat of your grandma’s Buick, the massage table at the House of Joy, the bondage rack and the spinning sex chair, some of us may still experience the atavistic urge to enjoy the afterglow of sex with a little gravel still stuck to our backs.
But actually sexing with the earth and the things that sprout on its surface is what sets the tribe of ecosexuals apart from the merely desperately horny. What this consists of is left intentionally vague, although much of it seems to deal with pollen. Look at the pics yourself.
In any case, when someone tells an ecosexual to “go hump sand,” the ecosexual can become legitimately aroused. Unlike traditional green movements, the ecosexual is not a tree hugger. He is a tree fucker. When an ecosexual complains of being caught between a rock and a hard place, he is probably just letting you know where his penis is situated.
Ecosexuality has its opponents, of course. Conservatives, for whom sex means only missionary-position with the wife, or getting spanked by prostitutes when she’s out of town, are predictably against it. This hit piece in Breitbart places ecosexuals a few rungs lower on the you-disgust-me ladder than LGBTQI’ers, whom they find massively disgusting. But they bravely throw the LGB-etc. folks a lifeline, in the form of allowing that ecosexual passions are even harder to understand than theirs. This is the closest the right gets to tolerance, so we need to commend them for it.
What they fail to consider is that ecosexuality might just be a put-on, that all these people taking pictures of themselves rolling in fields of pollen are doing it just to freak the straights out, and when they actually have sex with each other they do it in the conventional way, by having a massive multi-sexual orgy in someone’s dimly-lit porn den. The joke's on us. Now I feel better. I’ll make myself lunch.
Hey, what's this on my cucumber?
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