I had heard of this a while ago, but I forgot about in an acid induced haze somewhere along the railway line on the way to Kalk Bay to shoot pictures of the Gypsy living in the caravan in the parking lot outside the fish shop.

But when I received my latest GQ (April 2009) I was once again reminded that paying for sex can be legal! his is kind of cool though, you know…if that’s your thing or more importantly if you need it.

It’s called Sex Surrogate Therapy. Whatever problems you may have can be taken care of through a sex surrogate therapist. So if your problem is blowing your load too early after penetating the deer, or Llama or child if you’re Michael Jackson (Anyone realise the ingenuity of his surname? JACK-SON. JACK as in JACK OFF. SON as in little boy. Genius!) then a sex surrogate therapist is the answer!

So basically the surrogate stands in as your partner, and teaches you shit that you need to know. But the thing is, what if she’s like really hot? I’d just keep buggering up the lessons, never learning my lesson.

Being a naughty learner. Not doing my homework.

This would prompt her to spank me. I’d keep on neglecting my homework, and keep going back to my teacher. We’d probably fall in love.

I’d have to eventually let her know that I’m boning Ana Beatriz Barros. Then I’d let my therapist know that Ana wants it up the ass and I’m scared.

We would have to practise this as well.

JESUS!

Where did that sneaky one come from?

Due apologies to old people and young kids alike.

Ana Beatriz Barros…awaiting my piece

I’m just saying, sex surrogate therapy sounds like such a vibe. All your single mates would be going to classes before going out to party at night. They’d come across to chicks as far more relaxed. Chicks dig relaxed guys. They’d end up coming right twice that night.

Sick!

Sean Lloyd

Editor