Salutations to you amid this fine fall day, my dear Reader. I pray for your everlasting safety, both mental and sexual, amid these twisted times.

You may notice that my prose has been superciliously updated for this issue of The Toike Oike’s magnanimous October edition. You would be correct, for I have been practicing a return to the culture of what is now referred to as the “pre-everything-turning-to-bollocks” era, i.e. before the birth of the internet. 

Indeed, before titillating texts or ero emails could be sent at a moments notice there existed the courting of a couple, hoping to mayhaps entice an intimate conversation through scintillating scribe by laying each trembling, curvy word through the slick strokes of a long, long, quivering quill. 150 years after the invention of the engine, and all of the heavy penetration that a healthy, solid letter could provide is missing.

That is, until now. 

Dearest fellow lewd-ites, now with the enforced happening of social distancing we have been given the opportunity to return to the land of lilting tongues lifting their glands up and down, spreading their salivating saliva over the tip of that envelope – can you picture it? (Well, you can if you include a particularly meta photograph within your salacious envelope, but that’s not the point.)

Some of the most scandalous invitations to concurrent self “massaging” over long distance have been expressed on paper! Take this delicious sequence of words from a man in Paris to the woman he (supposedly) enjoys being with: 

“You had a belly full of farts that night, darling. Big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties.” 

My goodness gracious, clear the room, you two!

And let not such recent correspondence between romancers cloud your imagination! After all, even the ancient Aztecs needed to offload some hot and heavy feelings occasionally. In one archaeological dig, the following phrases were translated from among the earliest indecent ideographically written letters ever found: 

“Here I am sitting and smouldering with passion, like sacrifices smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger.” 

I’m sure anybody back in those times would’ve been extremely flattered with their lover’s priorities. Being ranked as more important than cannibalism? What sweeter message could there be?

Now, go forth and fill your delicate pages full of indelicate indications of actions that, at the moment, are unable to be undertaken! (Remember, write responsibly.)

Everlongingly, devouringly yours,