Q. Why does an Englishman close his eyes when he has sex?

A. Because he doesnt like to see a woman disappointed !!

Q. Why does an Australian man close his eyes when he has sex ?

A. Because he doesnt like to see a woman enjoy herself !!!!

There is a beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere where the following people are stranded:

2 Italian men and 1 Italian woman
2 French men and 1 French woman
2 German men and 1 German woman
2 Greek men and 1 Greek woman
2 English men and 1 English woman
2 Bulgarian men and 1 Bulgarian woman
2 Swedish men and 1 Swedish woman
2 American men and 1 American woman
2 Irish men and 1 Irish woman
2 Russian men and 1 Russian woman

One month later on this beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere …

The 1st Italian man has killed the other for the Italian woman.

The 2 French men and the French woman are living happily together in a menage a trois …

The 2 German men have a strict weekly schedule of when they alternate with the German woman

The 2 Greek men are sleeping with each other and the Greek woman is cleaning and cooking for them.

The 2 English men are waiting for someone to introduce them to the English woman, and she is waiting for someone to introduce her to the American men.

The Bulgarian men took one look at the endless ocean, one look at the Bulgarian woman and started swimming.

The two Swedish men are contemplating the virtues of suicide while the woman keeps on bitching about her body being her own and the true nature of feminism. But at least its not snowing and the taxes are low.

The American woman has filed a law suit for sexual harrassement against both American men, and they are suing each other for libel. The woman has also become a Scientologist and is having an affair with the Bulgarian woman. One of the men has become a Bahaist and befriended the wildlife on the island, while the second has become a born-again christian and attends councelling sessions with the two Swedish men.

The Irish began by dividing their island Northside-Southside and setting up a distillery. They dont remember if sex is in the picture, because it gets sort of foggy after the first few liters of coconut-whiskey, but at least they know the English arent getting any …

The first Russian man married the Russian woman and divorced her. He is the best customer of the Irish distillery.

The other Russian man made money by actually killing the Italian on contract and by arranging exit visas for the Bulgarians; with that he acquired a controlling 33.33% share in the Irish distillery including the world-wide distribution rights to the English and he hired the Greeks as sales agents. He employs both Germans as bodyguards (hence the strict schedule) both for himself and for his Russian girlfriend, and has promised the Bulgarian woman that she can become the maid of their first child. He regularly sees the Swedish woman to learn English.

In the mean time, the French still think they are alone on the island.

Online computer users often engage in what is affectionately known as
cybersex. Often the fantasies typed into keyboards and shared through Internet
phone lines get pretty raunchy. However, as youll see below, one of the two
cyber-surfers in the following transcript of an online chat doesnt seem to
quite get the point of cybersex. Then again, maybe he does…

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?

Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work
out every day, Im toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you
look like?

Wellhung: Im 63 and about 250 pounds. I wear glasses and I have on a pair of
blue sweat pants I just bought from WalMart. Im also wearing a T-shirt with a
few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner… it smells funny.

Sweetheart: I want you. Would you like to screw me?

Wellhung: OK.

Sweetheart: Were in my bedroom. Theres soft music playing on the stereo and
candles on my dresser and night table. Im looking up into your eyes, smiling.
My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge,
swelling bulge.

Wellhung: Im gulping, Im beginning to sweat.

Sweetheart: Im pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

Wellhung: Now Im unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling.

Sweetheart: Im moaning softly.

Wellhung: Im taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.

Sweetheart: Im throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my
warm skin. Im rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.

Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in
your blouse. Im sorry.

Wellhung: Ill pay for it.

Sweetheart: Dont worry about it. Im wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts
are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.

Wellhung: Im fumbling with the clasp on your bra. I think its stuck. Do you
have any scissors?

Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly. Im reaching back undoing the
clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are
erect for you.

Wellhung: How did you do that? Im picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.

Sweetheart: Im arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all
over me.

Wellhung: Im dropping the bra. Now Im licking your, you know, breasts. Theyre
neat!

Sweetheart: Im running my fingers through your hair. Now Im nibbling your ear.

Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: Im so sorry. Really.

Sweetheart: Im wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.

Wellhung: Im taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.

Sweetheart: OK. Im pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.

Wellhung: Im screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!

Sweetheart: Im pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.

Wellhung: Im pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out
nibbling on you… umm… wait a minute.

Sweetheart: Whats the matter?

Wellhung: Ive got a pubic hair caught in my throat. Im choking.

Sweetheart: Are you OK?

Wellhung: Im having a coughing fit. Im turning all red.

Sweetheart: Can I help?

Wellhung: Im running to the kitchen, choking wildly. Im fumbling through the
cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?

Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

Wellhung: Im drinking a cup of water. There, thats better.

Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

Wellhung: Im washing the cup now.

Sweetheart: Im on the bed aching for you.

Wellhung: Im drying the cup. Now Im putting it back in the cabinet. And now
Im walking back to the bedroom. Wait, its dark, Im lost. Wheres the bedroom?

Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.

Wellhung: I found it.

Sweetheart: Im tuggin off your pants. Im moaning. I want you so badly.

Wellhung: Me too.

Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately – our naked bodies
pressing each other.

Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.

Sweetheart: Why dont you take off your glasses?

Wellhung: OK, but I cant see very well without them. I place the glasses on the
night table.

Sweetheart: Im bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!

Wellhung: I have to pee. Im fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward
the bathroom.

Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.

Wellhung: I find the bathroom and its dark. Im feeling around for the toilet.
I lift the lid.

Sweetheart: Im waiting eagerly for your return.

Wellhung: Im done going. Im feeling around for the flush handle, but I cant
find it. Uh-oh!

Sweetheart: Whats the matter now?

Wellhung: Ive realized that Ive peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again.
Im walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.

Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.

Wellhung: OK, now Im going to put my… you know… thing… in your… you
know… womans thing.

Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!

Wellhung: Im touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck.
Umm, Im having a little trouble here.

Sweetheart: Im moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I cant stand it another
second! Slide in! Screw me now!

Wellhung: Im flaccid.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: Im limp. I cant sustain an erection.

Sweetheart: Im standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.

Wellhung: Im shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. Im
going to get my glasses and see whats wrong.

Sweetheart: No, never mind. Im getting dressed. Im putting on my underwear.
Now Im putting on my wet nasty blouse.

Wellhung: No wait! Now Im squinting, trying to find the night table. Im
feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and
your candles.

Sweetheart: Im buttoning my blouse. Now Im putting on my shoes.

Wellhung: Ive found my glasses. Im putting them on. My God! One of our candles
fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! Im pointing at it, a shocked look
on my face.

Sweetheart: Go to hell. Im logging off, you loser!

Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!

Sweetheart: (logged off)

The beautiful secretary of the president of a bank goes on a sight-seeing tour with a very rich African king who was a very important client. The client out of the blue asks her to marry him. Naturally, the secretary is quite taken aback. However, she remembers what her boss told her, dont

reject the guy outright.



So, she tries to think of a way to dissuade the businessman from wanting to marry her. After a few minutes, the woman says to the man, I will only marry you under three conditions. First, I want my engagement ring to be a 75-carat diamond ring with a matching 200-carat diamond tiara.



The African king pauses for awhile. Then, he nods his head and says, No problem! I have. I have.



Realizing her first condition was too easy the woman says to the man, I want you to build me a 100-room mansion in New York. As a vacation home, I want a chateau built in the middle of the best wine country in France.



The African king pauses for awhile. He whips out his cellular phone and calls some brokers in New York and in France. He looks at the woman, nods his head and says, Okay, okay. I build. I build.



Realizing that she only has one last condition, the secretary knows that shed better make this a good one. She takes her time to think and finally she gets an idea. A sure-to-work condition. She squints her eyes, looks at the man and says, rather coldly, Since I like sex, I want the man I marry to have a 14-inch penis.



The man seems a bit disturbed. He cups his face with his hands and rests his elbows on the table, all the while muttering in African dialect.



Finally, after what seemed like forever, the king shakes his head, looking really sad, and says to the woman, Okay, okay. I cut. I cut.

A man walking down the beach, sees a old bottle in the sand and begins to play kick-the-bottle to amuse himself. After a while he picks it up, and a pissed off genie emerges.

She says normally I grant 3 wishes, but in your case, you son of a bitch, I am going to grant only 1.

He thinks a minute and says – OK, I want to wake up with 3 women in my bed.

She says So be it!, and disappears back into the bottle.

Next morning, he wakes up with Lorena Bobbitt, Tonya Harding and Hilary Clinton. He has no penis, a broken leg, and no health insurance!

A koala bear and a hooker go back to her place and they get undressed. The koala bear goes down on the hooker for 3 hours straight. She has multiple orgasms!!! After 3 hours he stops, gets up and puts on his little koala clothes. The woman is hanging back huffing and puffing from exhaustion.

Oh God,that was great! Now I need my money. The koala bear just looks at her and shrugs.

Then the hooker says, No, I need my money. Im a hooker and this is how I make a living.

The koala bear just looks at her and continues to put on his clothes. Then the hooker gets up and runs to the bookshelf, grabs a dictionary and thumbs through it to hooker. She hands it to the koala bear and it reads:

HOOKER: person who has sex for money.

Then the koala bear turns the page to koala bear and walks out the door. The hooker reads:

KOALA BEAR: Eats Bushes and Leaves.

The following of course comes from the anthropology section of the National
Geographic library and is based on scientific evidence of European behavioural
trends:

There is a beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere where the
following people are stranded:

2 Italian men and 1 Italian woman

2 French men and 1 French woman

2 German men and 1 German woman

2 Greek men and 1 Greek woman

2 English men and 1 English woman

2 Bulgarian men and 1 Bulgarian woman

2 Swedish men and 1 Swedish woman

2 Irish men and 1 Irish woman

One month later on this beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere…

The 1 Italian man killed the other for the Italian woman.

The 2 Frenchmen and the French woman are living happily together in a menage a
trois.

The two German men have a strict weekly schedule and alternate with the German
woman.

The 2 Greek men are sleeping with each other and the Greek woman is cleaning and
cooking for them.

The 2 English men are waiting for someone to introduce them to the English
woman.

The Bulgarian men took one look at the endless ocean, one look at the woman and
started swimming.

The two Swedish men are contemplating the virtues of suicide while the woman
keeps on bitching about her body being her own and the true nature of feminism.

But at least its not snowing and the taxes are low.

The Irish began by dividing their island Northside-South side and setting up a
distillery. They dont remember if sex is in the picture, because it gets sort
of foggy after the first few litres of coconut-whiskey.

But at least they know the English arent getting any…!!!

Many of you young persons out there are seriously thinking about going to college. (That is, of course, a lie. The only things you young persons think seriously about are loud music and sex. Trust me: these are closely related to college.)

College is basically a bunch of rooms where you sit for roughly two thousand hours and try to memorize things. The two thousand hours are spread out over four years; you spend the rest of the time sleeping and trying to get dates.

Basically, you learn two kinds of things in college:

* Things you will need to know in later life (two hours). These include how to make collect telephone calls and get beer and crepe-paper stains out of your pajamas.

* Things you will not need to know in later life (1,998 hours). These are the things you learn in classes whose names end in -ology, – – -osophy, -istry, -ics, and so on. The idea is, you memorize these things, then write them down in little exam books, then forget them. If you fail to forget them, you become a professor and have to stay in college for the rest of your life.

Its very difficult to forget everything. For example, when I was in college, I had to memorize — dont ask me why — the names of three metaphysical poets other than John Donne. I have managed to forget one of them, but I still remember that the other two were named Vaughan and Crashaw. Sometimes, when Im trying to remember something important like whether my wife told me to get tuna packed in oil or tuna packed in water, Vaughan and Crashaw just pop up in my mind, right there in the supermarket. Its a terrible waste of brain cells.

After youve been in college for a year or so, youre supposed to choose a major, which is the subject you intend to memorize and forget the most things about. Here is a very important piece of advice: Be sure to choose a major that does not involve Known Facts and Right Answers.

This means you must *not* major in mathematics, physics, biology, or chemistry, because these subjects involve actual facts. If, for example, you major in mathematics, youre going to wander into class one day and the professor will say: Define the cosine integer of the quadrant of a rhomboid binary axis, and extrapolate your result to five significant vertices. If you dont come up with exactly the answer the professor has in mind, you fail. The same is true of chemistry: if you write in your exam book that carbon and hydrogen combine to form oak, your professor will flunk you. He wants you to come up with the same answer he and all the other chemists have agreed on. Scientists are extremely snotty about this.

So you should major in subjects like English, philosophy, psychology, and sociology — subjects in which nobody really understands what anybody else is talking about, and which involve virtually no actual facts. I attended classes in all these subjects, so Ill give you a quick overview of each:

ENGLISH: This involves writing papers about long books you have read little snippets of just before class. Here is a tip on how to get good grades on your English papers: Never say anything about a book that anybody with any common sense would say. For example, suppose you are studying Moby Dick. Anybody with any common sense would say that Moby Dick is a big white whale, since the characters in the book refer to it as a big white whale roughly eleven thousand times. So in your paper, you say Moby Dick is actually the Republic of Ireland. Your professor, who is sick to death of reading papers and never liked Moby-Dick anyway, will think you are enormously creative. If you can regularly come up with lunatic interpretations of simple stories, you should major in English.

PHILOSOPHY: Basically, this involves sitting in a room and deciding there is no such thing as reality and then going to lunch. You should major in philosophy if you plan to take a lot of drugs.

PSYCHOLOGY: This involves talking about rats and dreams. Psychologists are *obsessed* with rats and dreams. I once spent an entire semester training a rat to punch little buttons in a certain sequence, then training my roommate to do the same thing. The rat learned much faster. My roommate is now a doctor. If you like rats or dreams, and above all if you dream about rats, you should major in psychology.

SOCIOLOGY: For sheer lack of intelligibility, sociology is far and away the number one subject. I sat through hundreds of hours of sociology courses, and read gobs of sociology writing, and I never once heard or read a coherent statement. This is because sociologists want to be considered scientists, so they spend most of their time translating simple, obvious observations into scientific-sounding code. If you plan to major in sociology, youll have to learn to do the same thing. For example, suppose you have observed that children cry when they fall down. You should write: Methodological observation of the sociometrical behavior tendencies of prematurated isolates indicates that a casual relationship exists between groundward tropism and lachrimatory, or crying, behavior forms. If you can keep this up for fifty or sixty pages, you will get a large government grant.

A man has been married to his wife for over 20 years and during the past 5 years he has been unable to obtain an erection. He feels just horrible because he is unable to have sex with his wife. He fears his wife may leave him for another man.

Out of desperation the man has gone to every doctor and expert in the area. Despite numerous tests and suggested remedies, no reason for his impotence can be found and no cure has worked.

The man decides to share his problem with his best friend. His best friend gets all excited and says, I know who can help you! There is mystic and he was able to help someone else I know with the same problem! You must go see him!

So the man takes his friends advice and goes to visit this curious mystic. The man explains his problem, the mystic looks him over and says, Ah, yes, indeed I can offer a temporary cure.

The man is just elated, he tells the mystic, Whatever it is, please do it! I want to be able to have sex with my wife, please!

So the mystic nods his head, does a strange dance around the man while murmuring odd sounds, claps his hands and says, All done. Now, sir, you will be able to bring on an erection immediately upon counting to three: one, two, three. Do not count to three until you want your erection. Your erection will continue to last until the count of four is heard: one, two, three, four. After that, you will not be able to obtain an erection again no matter what.

The man is just so excited, he leaves the mystic and heads home. All he can think about is that tonight he will be having sex again and giving his wife the love session of her life. He cannot wait to surprise her with his eager hard-on that will last and last and last.

That evening, the man is lying in bed waiting for his beautiful wife to walk out of the bathroom and crawl into bed beside him.

How much longer will you be?, he inquires in a lound voice from the bed.

Almost done sweetie., his wife responds from the bathroom.

The man gazes down at his penis and counts outloud: One, two, three. Sure enough, his penis stiffens into a grand hard-on.

The wife then hollars from the bathroom: Honey, what did you say one, two, three, for?