When did your sex-advice column become a political column? That’s not why I read you. Please get back to peggers and piss drinkers. If I find anything about politics in your column next week, I’m done with you. I want info and entertainment on sex, not politics! –Joey M.

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I’m sorry to say, though, that you’re going to read about politics in this week’s column–but only because I’m running your letter. And I’m only running it so that I can swear on my santorum-smudged Bible that I’m getting back to sex. That doesn’t mean, however, that I won’t touch on politics in this space. Sex and politics are bound together in the USA–and that’s not my doing, kiddo. Nevertheless I’ll try not to dwell too much on, say, the demise of the Supreme Court, Karl Rove’s indecently fat ass, the end of social security, or the war on terror. And while I have hundreds of e-mails in my in-box from distressed liberals, delighted conservatives, and uncharacteristically boastful Canadians who do want to discuss politics, I’m going to ignore them in favor of peggers and piss drinkers, JM, per your request.

If that doesn’t win back your affections, maybe this will: At the end of this week’s column I will announce Savage Love’s first annual GGG Award, a contest that is sure to fill this space with hair-raising tales of perversion for weeks to come. But first, a pegger and a piss drinker…

I made a pass at the girlfriend of a guy I know. He’s a friend, but she’s too hot to let friendship stand in the way. She said no. Two weeks later the girl asked me if I still wanted to fuck her. Yes! She said I could, but first I had to blow her boyfriend and drink his piss. No! This is her fantasy, she said. She wanted her boyfriend to degrade me, and then degrade her by letting me fuck her. I told her I might be drunk enough to suck her boyfriend’s dick, but that no way was I going to drink a dude’s piss. Both or nothing, she said. Many beers later (some recycled), there I was fucking her brains out.