I quickly explained that my friend was totally into her. She nuzzled over to me. So I did what anyone would do in that situation &mdash I resorted to lesbianism.

"So would you kiss me?" I asked her.
I didn't have to wait for a verbal answer.

Pillowy lips, soft and probing tongue. I was liking this. I closed my eyes tight to ward out the mirrors and flesh.
"Now kiss him," I demanded, pointing to my friend.

We rearranged positions so my friend and LaToya could sit next to each other and further down the row I was next to Hector.

Hector took off his towel and began caressing his dick. It wasn't fully hard and was smaller than I expected. But then again, show-ers/growers, et.al.

We leaned in and kissed. Very aggressively. My head hurt this whole weekend from his massive hand in my hair pulling, like a gardener extracting weeds.

These shots are after the first reduction, but before the second, Kelly tells us.

And the below photo is after the second reduction: "Insurance didn't pay this time. I had to pay nearly 10K." Sometimes, even breasts have a narrative.

From a post on Allison's blog today:

"Sometimes I play a game with my iTunes where I think of a question, then I press shuffle and see if the next song 'answers' that question. You know, like Magic 8 ball but with songs. I really don’t care if you think that’s lame, seriously try it, it’s totally fun. (Although for some reason I frequently get the answer “Smells like Teen Spirit” from Nirvana. weird.)"

What we did: He came to my house at night, ordered sushi, sat on my couch and drank tea and talked. He touched my breasts in mid-sentence, completely out of context, and seemed distracted by them and sexual thoughts that would pop into his mind sporadically. He told me he hadn't showered in 4 days. I let him know I was appalled he'd come to my house with urine stained manties.

...After agreeing to flash him my tits quickly and letting him have one more cup of tea, he wiped down my coffee table, kissed the Mins, threw out my garbage and left around 3am. [Kelly just wrote to clarify: "The 'Mins' refers to my mini dachshund, appropriately named, 'MINI'. Janka and the Mini got on really well."]

I gave him a quick hug goodbye and felt bad when he said I made him feel dirty and bad. I wished him well and I really meant it.

Overall impression: A very smart, sweet guy who needs some sort of anchor and guidance in his life. A man who is deeply conflicted and needs sex addiction therapy and possibly meds.

Reason I went on the date: It started as a media joke; I wrote my last column as an open letter to him.... I was lonely and bored. He wanted to come over.

Previously: Kelly Kreth Bares Junk In Trunk For Hunk Paul Janka

Thinking back—way back—I think it has always been about the ass for me. I remember being 5 years old and having a doctor's kit that had a plastic needle. At 5 I had been to the pediatrician many times and knew the needle was typically inserted into the ass cheek. However, at home when I was playing doctor with myself, I'd put the needle in my actual anus. I derived an odd sexual pleasure from it.

There was this:

My tight pink asshole is relaxed and ready for you, Paul. In fact, I can feel it blowing kisses your way as I type. [My editor will eat this up, and there is nothing better than having your editor eating up your pink asshole.]

I write about my tight starfish because I know, even while disgusted, people will be compelled to read. It doesn't matter if it is out of titillation or horror, want or need, we just want their eyes on the page and on us.

You are a genius with bedroom hair and a face made for riding. I can only imagine what the stubble must feel like against my smooth skin and hope to find out soon.

Outside the Box [NYP]

Hi there Gawker,
I am Kelly Kreth, the new sex/relationship writer for the NY Press (and also, President of my own PR firm.)
Anyway, just for the record I am no longer dating Eric Schaeffer.
How about doing a Gawker's 50 most eligible NYC bachelorettes and including me?
Thanks,
Kelly Kreth