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ErosBlog: The Sex Blog

Sex Blogging, Gratuitous Nudity, Kinky Sex, Sundry Sensuality
October 20th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

New Garter Belt: A Missing Provenance

I have been skunked. One of my clients who pays me to identify the provenance of mystery images has come up with this apparent comic-book panel, and there’s nothing to identify it in any of the reverse search tools that I usually use. I’m not sure whether this is portion of a panel from a vintage comic, an altered panel from such a source, or a panel fragment from some more modern comic art drawn in a traditional style. But I would be very much indebted to anyone in the ErosBlog audience who could tell me the source of this artwork:

lifting a skirt

Crowdsourced genius, go!

October 19th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Chloe Carter “Caught” Masturbating In The Tub

Chloe Carter pouring hot water on her pussy

The supposed scenario for Chloe Carter’s Submissived shoot is that she spends so much time lounging about in the fancy deep tub pictured above, pounding her pudding under the hot water from the tap, that her stepfather has become angry about the unsustainable energy bill. And so he bursts in upon her in an angry lather, drags her out of the tub, and they proceed to enjoy a quasi-incestuous bout of adult-daughter/step-daddy BDSM sex. (Although you’ve seen very little of the stuff here on my old-fashioned blog, porn themes that flirt with incest without quite actually crossing the traditional taboo line are all the rage these past couple of years, as the old porn companies struggle mightily to find something that porn surfers still find novel enough to pay for.)

Of course I don’t buy this scenario entirely as described for a very simple reason, not that we couldn’t list a few dozen others. But mine is this: no woman wears lingerie like that into a bathtub that she expects to enjoy in perfect privacy. In fact, if there’s a lingerie wishbook illustration somewhere for “lingerie to be dragged out of a bathtub in”, it probably looks a lot like the lingerie Chloe is wearing…

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October 18th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Sexy Naked Swinger

The swinging party is not quite what she was expecting, but she’s having fun anyway:

nude voluptuous sexy woman on a swing

From the cover of this French-language pulp.

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October 17th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

The Death Of The Shudder Pulps

butterfly on a skull on a book

An embarrassingly long time ago, my patient friend Dr. Iago Faustus at Erotic Mad Science gave me a research commission to look into the death of the so-called “shudder” or “weird menace” pulps that flourished so luridly in the late 1930s and were extinct for all practical purposes by World War II. In particular, he asked me to look for hard evidence of the often-repeated common wisdom that they were killed off by censorship pressure.

I spent far too much time on research — and a bunch more on procrastination — with the end result that the written product of my efforts reads a lot more like hastily-typed-up notes than like a polished … anything. And I’m forced to admit that I’m far from completely satisfied with my own findings. Working as I do from rural Red State Heck, my access to primary sources was scattershot, having more to do with random vagueries of what happens to have been scanned and made searchable than with what I truly needed to access. So, in the end, I assembled a series of telling anecdotes, a constellation of data points, a handful of supporting primary sources, some firm opinions, and some hand-waving. But at least I can say that it’s more than anybody else has ever compiled on this particular question! It was fascinating to delve into the question in such detail, and I am debt to Dr. Faustus for his generosity in making the work possible.

The work has been appearing as a series of posts at Erotic Mad Science, but Dr. Faustus has now also compiled those posts onto a unitary What Killed The Shudder Pulps page for easy reference and reading convenience. Enjoy!

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October 16th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

A Huffle And A Lark

These people on Twitter! It’s as if they do not want me to get any work done. At all.

The cause of today’s lament: a tweet went by on my social media. It said “So, here is some of my favourite sexy slang from Caulfield’s Blackguardiana (c.1790)” and there was a scan, of which this was the part that caught my attention:

huffle and larking bad definitions

How utterly coy and cowardly and useless! A thing that pretends to look like a dictionary, but lacks the moral courage to function as one. What the utter fuck? “A piece of bestiality too filthy for explanation?” Maybe in 1790, but here in 2017, no such thing is possible; the inquiring minds of my readers demand explication!

No. One does not troll meat like this past my nose without expecting me to rise up and strike the bait. It is simply not done. Fortunately, a few moments [lies: it was much more than that] of Googling and I discover that Melissa Mohr already did the heavy intellectual lifting for me in Salon back in 2013:

Many of these words rich and strange are not swearwords per se but terms for topics so esoterically taboo that they would never have come up in polite conversation. In his 1785 “Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue,” Francis Grose includes to huffle, which is “a piece of bestiality too filthy for explanation.”

Wait, Grose? Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue? Ha! The Blackguardiana entry was plagiarized — the lazy copying of somebody else’s dictionary homework.

Moving on. Mohr, some more:

(The 1788 and 1823 editions decide that discretion is the better part of valor and fail to mention the bestial practice at all.) Grose also lists “to bagpipe, a lascivious practice too indecent for explanation.” Even Farmer and Henley, brave champions of obscenity who boldly explained fucking, refuse to define to bagpipe in their dictionary — they simply repeat Grose’s definition manqué. One hopes for something really spectacular from these words, but they are simply the Victorian version of blow job, slang for fellatio, a practice evidently much more shocking one or two centuries ago. Another popular Victorian word for this lascivity was gamahuche. It derives from French, so it probably was a euphemism used in order to lift the tone of huffle and bagpipe out of the gutter. It more properly means “mouth on genitals,” as it can be used for both fellatio and cunnilingus.

Larking is another “lascivious practice that will not bear explanation,” according to Grose in 1785. (It also disappears from later editions of his dictionary.) It is a bit harder to figure out to what larking refers. Farmer and Henley go with fellatio again, but Gordon Williams argues persuasively that larking is having sex with the man’s penis between the woman’s breasts. In an 1800 engraving called “The Larking Cull,” the man is shown in just this position.

There. Mystery solved. Huffling is a blowjob and larking is titty-fucking. We are done here. This was easy. Fast post, moving on. Only…


Bacchus has been baited again, this time by Melissa Mohr in Salon. She doesn’t reproduce her 1800 engraving, probably because the Salon has editorial standards that are visually quite dull and prudish. But ErosBlog labors under no such handicap. Which means I can’t just wander off and leave you all wondering. Nothing will serve but to leave you with a fair copy of The Larking Cull. Fortunately, this is not a research challenge; it’s in the freakin’ British Museum, and they say it’s by Thomas Rowlandson, so I don’t need to worry about that either. See, Salon could have done it too:

larking cull engraving

But there’s a poem underneath, and it’s a bit hard to read the script, I suppose I should instacopypasta the text from somebody who has bothered to type it out, just a second while I Google that…

{sound of crickets}


OK, I’ll stop bellowing now. Of all things I never would have expected aren’t yet brought forward into our searchable digital legacy yet, ten short lines of ribald poetry about titty fucking that are in the shitting British crapping Museum I would not have bet a plugged wooden pissing nickel on! OK, OK, I’ll stop being lazy and angry now, let me peer at this old script for a couple of minutes and type it out as best I can make it out:


While on the bed the nymphs reclined
Damons resolv’d to please his mind
His generation tube he shows,
Between her swelling breasts it goes.
His fingers to her touch-hole sent
Alas to give her small content.
A larger thing would give more pleasure
She always loves to have full measure,
And who for greater joys do hunt
Than rising bubbies and a Cunt.

And now, finally, I am free of the geas that landed on my shoulders when that infernal tweet first crossed my eyes. Toodles!

October 15th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

“Belly Dancer! Don’t Shoot!”

Dynamic entries are all well and good, but there’s a shortage of exotic dancers in the world, so don’t be getting trigger-happy!

belly dancer and man with gun

Art is from the cover of Le Vicompte #4.

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October 14th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

The Prettiest Mine Technician

This doesn’t strike me as the most humane method for either laying or clearing the anti-shipping mines you’ve got to deal with when you operate a submarine invasion fleet, but I suppose if you’re a super villain in an volcanic lair, and you’ve got a whole glass-walled swimming pool full of topless bathing-beauty minions with impressive lung capacity, maybe it starts to seem like a reasonable procedure?

topless bikini girl with her hand on an anti-shipping mine

The art is from the cover of Goldrake #184.

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