[Editor's note: Sure, we know this is a story about a man and his sexual encounter with a toaster. Yep, it's probably not safe for work. And yes, we get that a lot of you might find it in poor taste. We're still running it. We love it.]

Levon awoke with a start to a bizarre metallic sucking sound and the distinct feeling of intense pleasure radiating in pinpoint waves from his loins to his inner thighs, up his torso and finally to his flushed cheeks. Not without a certain element of fear and apprehension did Levon raise the covers under which lay his naked body, to find his shiny, new two-slit toaster giving him the best blowjob of his life.

Levon’s knee-jerk reaction was to do just that -- that is, jerk his knees and legs in a futile attempt to shake this wayward whore-of-a-toaster off his groin. With the subtle ease of a hardened pro, the metal toaster merely tightened its toasting grills around its new find and commenced rocking itself to and fro with even greater velocity then before. Reluctantly, Levon gave in to the toaster he had cursed earlier that evening for not releasing his banana-nut low-fat bread completely, and wore the more and more comfortable hunk of metal like some bizarre hood ornament.

In fact, it was only earlier that week when Levon swore that his many appliances were “out to get him,” and that it was out of spite that his new espresso machine did not froth his cappachinos the way he saw them on television. A wave of guilt washed over him. He would have removed the toaster and engaged it in conversation, while holding its plug lovingly, if he had not realized that the warmth creeping up his neck was just another plateau reached along the climb to the best, if only, machinery induced orgasm of his life.

Besides merely justifying the abnormal circumstances in which he found himself, Levon went so far as to spank the toaster on its shiny backside, calling it “Rhonda” or “Mommy.” It was then that Levon began to wonder if the toaster was indeed a female, and not a male. He felt his stomach swirl at the thought and felt he would surely throw-up. Yet the idea that the toaster might conceivably be a “Ron” and not a “Rhonda” intrigued him even more than the thought of receiving a blowjob from a toaster.

“Take it Ron,” he screeched at the toaster. Liberated, he spanked it once with reckless sexual abandon and with more than the usual force.

In a swirl of ecstasy, Levon closed his eyes and pressed the toaster down on his crotch until he felt the sticky breadcrumbs at the bottom of the seemingly endless chasm of the toaster’s mouth. Then, wiping sweat from his upper lip, he gripped the pillow on which lay his head, clinched his teeth, and prepared for the biggest release of his life.

As the clinking and the clanking of the toaster continued like clockwork, each thrust more powerful than the last, Levon did not notice the toaster setting its dial for “broil” and wiggling its cord surreptitiously towards the electrical outlet at the foot of the bed.