Bissage Answers Your Questions

The mailman has brought yet another huge sack of fan mail; a veritable, palatable and moveable feast of adoration from near and from far. How about I reach deep down inside here, and remove a letter at random, and we can all read it together?

Dear Bissage,

I am a law student and your biggest fan. You are quite the hero among my study group and we were all hoping that you would settle a bet. It is common knowledge that your sexual powers go all the way to eleven and we were wondering if you have any particular playlist of music to accompany your virtuoso performances.

Some of us say “no” because you are a true carnal genius of godlike proportions and any music would seem puny by comparison and farcically incongruous. However, some of us say that you are still a mortal man, despite your magnificence, and that the more mind-blowing sections of symphonies by, say, Dvořák, Mahler or Holst, could – at least in theory – keep a respectable pace and maybe even emphasize all of the gloriousness that attends, necessarily, your amorous attentions.

I hope you will find the time in your busy, busy schedule to respond to our request. As I said before, you are our hero. And there is much riding on this wager. When we all pass our bar exams, whoever losses the bet has to pay for the steaks and the Löwenbräu.

Sincerely Yours,

Joe Shlabotnik, 3L

Well, well, well, Mr. Shlabotnik, thank you for that and I can see that not much has changed since my days at law school, when I was often asked such questions by admiring fans of all sizes, shapes, colors, genders, appetites and configurations. I guess certain fascinations are an integral part of the human condition.

To answer your question, I must begin by explaining that it is now only Mrs. Bissage to whom I give every inch of my love. When I am banging her doggy-style -- with my rock hard boner -- oftentimes things get so loud that I can hardly hear myself think, what with her constantly barking orders for me to serve it up harder, faster and deeper. I accommodate her demands, of course. Providing for her total happinesss requires only a mere fraction of my astonishing talent. I hope that doesn’t sound immodest because it is simply true.

Anyway, there are indeed times when I seek a kind of musical refuge from the supernatural vaginal pounding that has become my spousal obligation. While my lower body performs exactly like the mighty diesel engines that power a Royal Caribbean® cruise ship, sometimes the head above my shoulders listens to “Gymnopédie No. 1” by Erik Satie.

It is peaceful, nice and quiet – slow and sorrowful -- and it lasts three minutes which is plenty long enough.