So there’s this new show on HBO about royal families in some kind of weird medieval fantasy world, I forget what it’s called but it’s got a fuck-happy dwarf who whores his way around the countryside and another guy who likes giving the meat to his twin sister, which is just ALL KINDS OF ICK but also kind of disturbingly hot and yes, I realize this makes me a total perv but if you’ve seen the show you know I speak the truth. Everyone on that show is ridiculously snogable, related or not. Hell, I’d even bone the midget.
Anyway, I’m not writing this to tell you about the Horny Dwarf and Middle-Earth Version of Angelina and That Creepy Brother She Totally Wanted To Screw Before She Started Screwing Brad Pitt Instead show on HBO. Of course I’m not! That would be ridiculous! No, I’m writing to tell you about how the can’t-tear-my-eyes-away-ity of THAT show doesn’t even hold a 50-foot dildo-shaped candle to the decade-old episode of Real Sex I happened to catch the other night, thanks to a flip-happy remote finger and blazing case of insomnia.
Because as mesmerizing as randy midgets and fucktastic brother/sister combos are, they can’t even come close to the train wreck that is Real Sex #127, or whatever episode it was that introduced me to the glorious wonders of “Pony Play.”
Now, you might hear “Pony Play” and think I’m talking about those shows you can see down in Tijuana (you know the ones I mean, don’t play innocent) — but I’m not. Even I have my limits. I mean, yeah, okay, my “Hey Now THAT’s Just Going Too Far” line *might* be *slightly* ill-defined, but one thing I do know for sure is that actual horse-fucking is way, way, WAY past even the most distant of that line’s jagged outer edges.
No, the HBO version of Pony Play doesn’t involve any actual horses at all. It’s just people. Who PRETEND to be horses. Who dress up in custom-made leatherwear designed to look like horse heads and tails, wearing bridles and saddles and shit. Who meet up periodically to run around in the woods riding each other and making horse noises. And feed each other apples and brush each others’ “manes” and pretend to hammer horseshoes onto each other while they whinny and nuzzle with their pretend horse noses.
I am totally not kidding.
It’s pretty much the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, and definitely NOT HOT AT ALL.
So there I was at 2 in the morning, Big Bean snoring next to me, with Real Sex #257 on the TV and my eyes like this:
And since now there was no way I would be able to sleep, maybe ever again, I decided to investigate.
Thank GOD for the Internet.
Because thanks to the Internet I now know that there’s a whole subculture of this bizarrity out there, with entire events centered around it and web sites dedicated to it and communities of people who call themselves horse names like Trigger and I swear I’d STILL be clicking around to find more if I didn’t have a four-year-old who *might* wonder why mommy is on the computer looking at this –
…and start asking questions that I’m just really, REALLY not prepared to answer.
So I held my horses. Reined myself in. Stopped beating that dead horse. (SNORT)
But not before I wrote this post, so all of my readers (hi Mom, hi Dad) could also know the pleasure that is… Pony Play.