May 15th, 2025 -- by Bacchus
ErosBlog has commented on many occasions on the thin line between porn and fine art. We are fortunate for it, too; artistic merit and redeeming social value is the slender reed that has kept pornographers out of prison (mostly) for most of the last fifty years. I don’t think live bondage bondage exhibits will be popping up in boring art museums near you any time soon, but the objections are more pragmatic than artistic, I’d argue:
I don’t have an artist’s or photographer’s credit for this image, sadly; it circulated widely on Tumblr about ten years ago but only the faintest traces remain on today’s heavily-redacted search engine memories of that time.
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May 13th, 2025 -- by Bacchus
I’m not entirely sure which US military service branch it is that tells its recruits during training that they need to “embrace the suck” but I was reminded of that pithy phrase when Kaitlin from Tiktok discussed three approaches to dealing with gagging during blowjobs. After briefly mentioning throat desensitizing sprays and then offering the famous mouth-and-hand combo technique that limits the depth of oral penetration, she moved on to her most serious recommendation:
Option number three is when you relax the fucking shoulders and you just go for it. You just wang-dang it.
You embrace the fact that you are gagging, and you own it when it happens.
You remember to keep your nasal passage open. You relax the shoulders and you gag. You just go into it, because he will love that sensation.
These are your options. You may choose wisely whichever one you do, but it’s not an option to not try.
Kaitlin (aka “thespiceyblueymom“) is a sex-positive suburban warrior queen, if that wasn’t clear.
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May 11th, 2025 -- by Bacchus
Honestly I don’t know how many ErosBlog readers I have left these days who are old enough to remember the fountain-of-poop shock-site image that circulated under the name “tubgirl” back in the day, but this is certainly not the first time ErosBlog or other sites have misappropriated that filename to title a blog post about pretty girls bathing in old vintage washtubs:
Via Kinky Delight. Meanwhile the usual warnings apply: it’s not as easy as it used to be to search for the old shock images, but it’s not so hard you won’t find this one if you look. So don’t do that without deliberate intent.
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May 9th, 2025 -- by Bacchus
Here’s a bit from trans comedian Billie Lee’s routine on the difficult problem of when and how to tell someone new that she’s trans:
I know the audio track is low and a bit hard to hear, so here’s an assisting transcript:
I’d say the hardest thing is disclosure. Like, when is the best time to tell someone you’re trans? It’s a very personal thing. And I know you gotta do it before anything sexual, because if you don’t, then you sound like a mom trying to get her kids to try vegetables for the first time. “Just try it, sweetie, I’ll tell you what it is after.”
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May 8th, 2025 -- by Bacchus
The most joyous thing I’ve seen today is this bit of lovers’ nonsense in a shifter romance, namely Always Midnight by Ashlynn Monroe, which I found in the Bad Alphas collection:
“Everything feels so right,” Tar said. “I just don’t understand why I’m so willing to be claimed. I’m a modern woman, and I swear I don’t usually sleep with every hot guy who rescues me from a murderer.”
Ax chuckled. “This thing between us is more powerful than love and better than lust. You’re my mate. There’s nothing a human has to compare it to, but your wolf side will understand. Your body… your soul recognizes that you belong to me. It’s the most complicated piece of simplicity in the animal kingdom.”
Tar was never speechless, but that little poetic bit of crypto-zoology blew her mind. She lay naked in the arms of her hunky wolf-man, and the overdeveloped sarcasm lobe of her brain gave her nada, nothing, zilch. Romance gave her brain damage, but she relished her symptoms.
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May 6th, 2025 -- by Bacchus
You know that cliched line of poetry “all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by?” I don’t think men yearn for the sea these days the way they used to, but maybe they would if this is how tall ships were crewed:
Honestly this perhaps should not be a “Why rich men buy boats” post. I mean, yes, this boat probably was owned by rich men when the photo was taken, but it’s from a 1960s nudist magazine The Nudist Way, and that’s a time when nudism or naturism was often driven by ideology at least as much as by hedonism or sexual aggrandizement. So the headline could be a smidgeon unfair. But only a smidgeon, because this entire unserious series is rooted in my mostly-serious conviction that non-working boats of any great substance exist almost entirely for the purpose of getting their owners laid, one way or another. And this perhaps-rebuttable presumption of mine hardens (pun intended) into near-certainty whenever we see one or more naked ladies above deck.
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May 4th, 2025 -- by Bacchus
Here we have someone who admits with no small embarrassment that her man has trained her. Every time she sees her boyfriend, she wants to “give him some dome” and her mouth starts to fill with saliva. His unspecified positive reinforcements have been so successful, she herself uses the phrase “I’m swear I’m trained like Pavlov’s dog”:
The TikTok comments at the source link provide an interesting experience and maturity sort, if you’re into that sort of sociology. First, in various ascending grades of crudity and wit, people who want to know her boyfriend’s training methods and/or training rewards; followed as we climb toward enlightenment by folks who already know, or managed the contextual and inferential leap here, that giving pleasure to those we love is itself a reinforcing pleasure. Especially when the chemistry is good.
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