Do you think the Pope masturbates? I really don’t have any leaning one way or the other on the matter, but this is where I’m torn. First of all, dude is probably so powerful that he can get his knob slobbered on by just about anyone he wants (bad news for all the youngsters entering junior high in the Vatican). But then, wouldn’t he just be all, “Screw this, I’m the Pope, and I feel like giving the Kid Pope a coupla tugs.” I really don’t know how this would turn out, so if you happen to be a former Pope and could bring some insight to this debate, your correspondence would be appreciated. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s time to discuss football and sex. And once summer ends, you really shouldn’t be investing your time in anything else. There’s nothing better for the soul, and when either is performed well, one is inclined to scream wonderful things from the top of one’s lungs. It only seems appropriate that we pool our resources to be the best football watchers and significant others that we can be. As the flamboyantly profound MC Hammer once said, “Ring the bell, sucka. School’s back in.” Read the rest of this entry »

Welcome back for another edition of the Fantasy Sex Advice Mailbag, the mailbaggiest mailbag on the internet. This week we answer reader questions ranging from your standard fantasy football questions to Dorito dusted naughty bits. This week’s questions and answers are after the jump, and as usual all spelling is correct.

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You people have problems, we have answers.  And I mean you people REALLY have problems.  That’s why we have the Fantasy Sex/Football Advice Mailbag.  This week’s deluge of emails kept us from being able to use everyone’s submission, but don’t worry: the column still checks in at over 3200 words.  So you should probably use the bathroom before you click through to read the rest.  This goes on for a while.  Like my johnson!  BOOSH.

The solutions to all your sick (and [sic]) problems after the jump.  Spoiler alert: you’re gonna need booze.

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Welcome louche libertines to the latest installment of the mailbag for the anally adventurous and the roving of eye. This week, we entertain a few more questions than normal because brevity be damned. Sometime the load must be blown. The usual spate of anal curious male has given way to one dealing with rectally trepidatious gent. I feel your pain, Amanda. Be sure to send your address (or, you know, same goes to people with questions for future editions) here.

Let’s get it on.

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It’s that time of week again. Time for me to open up the mailhole, jam my fist inside, and spread my hand wide like a Texas five-star. Speaking of which, I have a mailbag question of my own for you people.

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Due to a dearth of emails followed by a flurry of post-deadline submissions, last week’s fantasy mailbag was relatively light on content.  As recompense, we’re going to get to some of those emails now.  And, as a reminder, now through tomorrow is a good time to get submissions in for this week’s regularly scheduled mailbag.

But first, let’s tackle the problems of hapless weirdos with weird sexual hang-ups.  Or, as they’re more commonly known, “Lions fans.”  As much bad advice as you can handle after the jump.

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Well, here we are.  Another week of people revealing their weird fantasies and oversharing their messed up lives.  Oh, and asking football questions.  Can’t forget about the football.

I’m relieved to say that there’s no discussion of HPV this week, but you can catch everything else after the jump.

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Welcome one and all to another illuminating edition of the KSK Fantasy Football and Sex Advice Mailbag. This week we advise our readers on joy of implants and the proper way to get in the pants of an honest-to-god churchgoer. Plus, it’s one reader’s lucky day, because we’re going to make his anal dreams come true!

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Welcome again to the KSK sexified feature that largely leaves the nasty fetishes at the door. In this installment, we get a little primer of HPV, disgusting discharge, muff-guessing and 30,000 goddamn questions about the fate of the Sulkmaster General. Allez, les perverts!

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