A Shave Before Dinner

CeeCi over at Giardino del Piacere got herself a good shave with one of them newfangled vibrating razors. And then when the thing was done, it was time for the next course:

After finishing my shave, he treated me to a bit of fun. He popped the cartridge off the razor, turned it on, then turned me on. The little vibrator he had in his hand was a delight. He knows precisely where my most delicate spots are and gently placed the tip there. If he applied too much pressure I wouldn’t feel much, so he would tap me gently. He told me later that when he placed it directly on the tip of my clit, my eyes bugged out like Jim Carrey’s did in “The Mask”.

Before I could become over-sensitized he stopped teasing me with our new found toy. He turned off the overhead light and placed the table lamp on the floor. Taking a hand towel, he tucked it into the neck of his shirt like a napkin then pulled himself to the table to feast upon my pussy. Within moments I had my first screaming orgasm. I was a rather emotional release as I found myself crying once the spasms began settling down. I reassured my darling I was fine, just got a bit overwhelmed.

Bottom Out On The Ski Slopes

I don’t know whether this ever-so-cute underdressed skier is engaged in a demure mooning, or whether she suffered a failure of her outerwear. Either way, I thought it was a great image to share in honor of the concluding Winter Olympics:

Blogging For A Living And The Global Microbrand

99% Sex-Free Post:

In my recent interview at Sunni’s Salon, I had this to say about the merits of sex blogging instead of having a job:

The job culture is as big a threat to human freedom as anything governments ever dreamed up. How can you be free and happy when you spend most of your waking hours in a place dictated by someone else, pursuing their priorities rather than your own, and living by their petty rules? With no time or energy to pursue your own priorities by the time you get home after a long unpaid commute? I lived that life for years, until I finally realized that I had to control my own working conditions to be truly free. Nobody but me deciding whether to set my alarm clock, or when to set it for; nobody but me deciding what my project will be on a given day, or whether I’ll choose to take that day off. Nobody but me deciding whether my head cold is bad enough I should just go back to bed.

About three days out of five, I take naps in the afternoon now. Why? Because I get sleepy. A twenty-minute snooze in the mid-afternoon cuts two hours off the amount of sleep I need at night. Right there, my life got seven percent longer by escaping the job culture.

I was therefore intrigued to discover that Hugh from Gaping Void (the blogger and blog famous for those funny cartoons drawn on the backs of business cards) had written something similar (but far more eloquent) in an essay called “The Global Microbrand Rant“:

It seems to me a lot of people of my generation are locked into this high-priced corporate, urban treadmill. Sure, they get paid a lot, but their overheads are also off the scale. The minute they stop tapdancing as fast as they can is the minute they are crushed under the wheels of commerce.

You know what? It’s not sustainable.

However, the Global Microbrand is sustainable. With it you are not beholden to one boss, one company, one customer, one local economy or even one industry. Your brand develops relationships in enough different places to where your permanent address becomes almost irrelavant.
…
Frankly, it beats the hell out of commuting every morning to the corporate glass box in the big city, something I did for many years. Just so I could make enough money to help me forget that I have to commute every morning to the corporate glass box in the big city.

There are thousands of reasons why people write blogs. But it seems to me the biggest reason that drives the bloggers I read the most is, we’re all looking for our own personal global microbrand. That is the prize. That is the ticket off the treadmill. And I don’t think it’s a bad one to aim for.

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Dancing ASCII

You’ve all seen ASCII art. But have you ever seen it move?

From Le Blog Adulte.

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Any Good WordPress Template Designers Out There?

ErosBlog is upgrading sometime soon to WordPress 2.0, and I’m in the market for a designer who can build me a nice custom template for a reasonable rate. I’m not looking for anything radical; really, I want something that looks and works pretty much the way ErosBlog already looks and works, only more modern and with colors and fonts and such that weren’t selected in 2002 by a color-blind design ignoramus. (Yes, that would be me.)

If you do WordPress template design, don’t mind getting paid with filthy porn money, and are available for an immediate commission, I’d like to hear from you, with a pointer to your design portfolio. Please send an email (to bacchus@erosblog.com); please do not leave links in the comments. All such will be deleted in self defense, to prevent the creation of a festering spam farm.

The Female Orgasm Porn Niche

From Rollertrain comes the depressing observation that “In the backward world of porn genres, female orgasm is a niche – not a given.” Supporting text:

Sativa, freshly waxed and moaning, looks lovely on the screen. The vibrator is buzzing at a low hum, making soft little surging noises as she pushes its tip against her clit. Sativa has beautiful skin, luscious tits and the kind of lips that cost hundreds of dollars. She’s awesome to behold so close up, but this isn’t anything I haven’t seen before.

“What’s awesome?” I ask. Isabelle turns up the sound. “Watch,” she says, and I listen. Sativa, movie-sized tribute to blessed Pussy, fills up all forty-two inches of Isabelle’s TV. Her face starts to look far away. She bites her lip and her cheeks flush. Her moaning falls into short pants of air and whimpering. The vibrator is working. Sativa’s entire vagina contracts six or seven times, like a giant heartbeat. Her pussy is shimmering. Sativa is clearly having an orgasm.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve actually seen a girl really cum in a porno,” says Isabelle.

Heidi Klum In An Ounce Of Paint

You know that springtime is coming when you see Heidi Klum in Sports Illustrated wearing nothing but an ounce of body paint:

Yum yum.

Vacuuming His Balls?

An odd mixture of cleaning and playtime at Annie’s Blog:

I…unknowingly made myself an ingredient in the menacing mix of man, naked woman and power tool which can lead to only one end: Fun With Suction. It feels really wierd to have one’s nipple sucked into the end of a vaccuum cleaner hose, yanno? Set on high it damn near sucks the hair off balls, too. I’m still trying to figure out if Robert’s “EEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!” was a good thing.

Two Smiles

This is a post about two smiles:

Those are the two smiles of the lovely Sarah Blake, who does bondage modeling for Hogtied.com. I want you to look at those smiles and study the differences between them. No matter if you’re kinky or vanilla (but especially if you’re vanilla) I want you to remember those smiles the next time you hear a preacher or a politician ranting and raving against the evils of sadomasochism, sexual depravity, and sadistic abuse. He’s talking about Sarah and her delicious, joyful smile.

All the pictures in this post come from this shoot, which you can view for yourself if you want to see Sarah tied up and, er, entertained, in some astonishing ways. I’m not going to reproduce those pictures here, although I will be describing the entertainment. All I’m showing you are her smiles (and one gasp of ecstasy.)

Let’s start with the first smile:

This is the “before” picture, taken at the beginning of the photo shoot. It’s a pretty smile — Sarah’s a pretty woman — but it’s a professional model’s smile. A little bit forced, a lot posed, and as artificial as a flower arrangement. This could be the yearbook photo, the portfolio photo, even the drivers license photo. This smile started when Sarah was young, and you can still see in it the obedient girl who learned what to do when the nice man behind the camera told her to smile.

Sarah covers a lot of kinky miles between that smile and the next one.

If you view more of the shoot, you’ll see Sarah with her ankles crossed and tied in front of her chin. Her miniskirt has puddled around her hips, but her panties are still on, so it’s a fairly innocent bondage image. Sarah’s wild ride is just beginning.

Moving rapidly along, we soon see her in the same pose without her undies, with a glass vacuum jar firmly secured to her tenderest bits. The ride accelerates; in another view, she’s on her knees wearing a heavy wooden set of stocks, with her pony tail tied back to — is there a nicer word for this device? — a butt hook that’s securely hooked in (you guessed it) her butt. The rear view of the same scene shows some welts where she’s been caned.

Moving along. In the next view, she’s been stood up, and a metal-pipe-and-ball-gag arrangement has been affixed to her wooden stocks to complicate her life. Some nipple clips with heavy round lead fishing weights are being clamped onto her nipples. When the cameraman steps back, we can see that she’s balanced on tiptoes, with a pole-and-dildo arrangement to encourage her to stay there.

The next couple of photos show a new scene, with Sarah on her stomach in a tight hogtie on two butcher-block tables. Her hands and feet are pressed and tied together, there’s a suspension rope around her elbows pulling her up in what have to be uncomfortable ways, and she’s wearing a red ball gag in a harness that’s making her drool.

*CLICK* Now she’s on her side, in rope bondage, with clothespins on her nipples and a big vibrator working her tender bits.

*CLICK* Now she’s in suspension — an astonishing upside-down posture that looks like gymnastics, only much sexier. Still with clothespins on her nipples.

Moving on. The website describes and explains the next scene thusly:

Sarah also has a tragic secret, she cannot stop cumming if she is stuck on a vibrator. So viewers, be warned! The last scene is a long intense forced orgasm scene until Sarah is vibrated senseless.

What we see is a hard wooden chair with a big vibrator duct-taped to it. Sarah’s strapped onto the chair (and the vibrator) with some well-worn and very-impressive-looking leather belts. She’s clearly enjoying herself, if a bit lost in the sensation:

So what’s been the point of all this lurid description? Quite simply this. Unless you’re a serious bondage fiend, someone who plays hard and invests serious time and money into your dungeon equipment, I’ve probably described more than you’re comfortable with. If you’ve got no interest in bondage, if you’ve never even seen a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, you might be pretty horrified by most of what I’ve described. If you’ve played at bedroom bondage, own one pair of cuffs and a riding crop, you might be fascinated by some of the pictures but scared or repelled by others of them. If you’re seriously kinky and have a home dungeon of your own, you might appreciate most or all the photos, but even then there’s probably something that’s not quite your cup of tea, or that’s too risky or troublesome to be worth trying in your book. But, whereever you fall on that spectrum, and however sincerely you might say of one of the depicted activities “that’s not for me”, I want you to focus on the last picture in the photoset, Sarah wearing nothing but her rope marks. Here’s Sarah’s exhausted-but-exhilarated second smile:

That’s not just a smile, it’s a grin. There’s more joy and enthusiasm and life in that photo than there is in a dozen of the professional smiles we saw at the top. Sarah, despite having suffered through some intensely uncomfortable bondage positions, has had a wonderful time.

And that visible joy, my friends, is what the Grundies want to kill when they rail against “sadism, masochism, and abuse.” I suppose they don’t even know about the joy — they may honestly think it’s all about objectification and degradation and money and feelthy perverts — but I don’t want you, dear readers, to have the same excuse. You’ve seen the two smiles. Now you know.

The next time you hear somebody railing against the feelthy perverts, you’re to remember the smiles. Even if the specific activity under discussion grosses you out, because it’s not your kink and you can’t understand why it could be anyone’s, remember the smiles. Remember Sarah’s visible joy. We don’t need to understand or appreciate a kink to understand that smile.

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Cock Faucet

Here’s brass balls for you!

I’d probably drink more water if it came from a faucet like that. My mom used to like a song that I think was called ‘Let Your Love Flow,’ but I don’t think that’s what she had in mind.

Thanks to College Humor for the picture.

Calling A Gland A Gland

I’ve always thought it silly when I see folks referring to the prostate as “the male g-spot”. To my mind, that usage only perpetuates woeful anatomical ignorance. Rabbit has a slightly different objection:

As a person fascinated with words and phrases, I always find the reference to the male g-spot a little bit humorous. After all, the g-spot literally means Gräfenberg spot and refers specifically to a gynaecologist’s discovery within female, not male genitalia. I’m not certain when the male g-spot became a term used to describe stimulation of the prostate, but I’m running across it more and more frequently on sexuality sites. One part of me immediately thinks, jeez, can’t guys find their own term, or, like early Christians taking over and replacing pagan rituals and festivities with their own celebrations, must dominant cultures constantly turn things into their own personal and empowering definitions? From a feminist point of view, there is a sense of male ownership over female sexuality in their use of the term to describe a man’s pleasure point.

Another Way To Not Get Linked

I recently got a link exchange email from an interesting-looking sex blog with a lot of interesting posts, somewhat focused on strange sex stories from the news, but worthy overall. And the link exchange request was polite, customized, and well-enough written to avoid getting the dreaded form-letter response. Until I looked at the site’s advertising. That got them this response:

I’ve given some thought to linking your blog, but at this moment I’m going to have to pass. Your blog has some interesting posts, such that I’d probably link if the quality of your blog posts were the only factor to consider.

However, another significant factor is the fact that I’m trying to build a sex-positive site that is respectful of my readers and doesn’t perpetuate sexual myths and misinformation. One way I do this is by making sure I don’t link to folks who heavily promote fraudulent items like penis enlargement products, fake sex phereomones, and the like. Since your site prominantly features ads for these products, I’m reluctant to endorse your site to my readers by linking.

Just in case there’s anybody out there who didn’t get the memo, here it is again: There’s no such thing as a penis enlargement product that works. And there’s no pheremone product on the market that does a damn thing but separate you from your money. Anybody who says different is a liar, a fool, or a crook.

I Hope I’m ‘Still Doing It’

Bacchus and the Nymph have slipped off to enjoy Valentines Day and their anniversary. That’s right, it was two years ago yesterday that she moved in with him. Just in case his fingers are too sore to type when he gets back, I’ll say thanks for your nice comments on his interview.

Here’s my anniversary present for them, and I hope I’ll be able to use it too. “Still Doing It”, a documentary of the sex lives of older women. Straight, gay, single, married…..they’re all here, and they talk about their sexual experiences and our agist society. It isn’t the sexiest present they could get, but if it helps both of them stay happy then its a success.

Happy Valentine’s Day 2006

“It Was Loaded, And It Exploded….”

Over at BJ’s Gay Porno-Crazed Ramblings, he’s put up a startling picture of a dick ready to shoot.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Drawing from Sliptongue Magazine.

Interview With A Sex Blogger (Me)

Barely slipping in under the wire for Valentine’s Day, Sunni of Sunni and the Conspirators has just published a wide-ranging interview of me at Sunni’s Salon. She calls it:

[A]n appropriate Valentine’s Day interview with Bacchus, the man behind the popular sexblog ErosBlog. Our conversation wanders through sex, blogging, and government interference with sexual pleasures, of course; but we also discuss the myths and realities of sex blogging and making money online, and more.

You’ll also learn why I think politics and sex blogging don’t mix, and why jobs are bad, m’kay?

Don’t Think Of The Smell

So I got a link exchange request from a porn blog. I get these every day. They are usually boring.

Usually.

So, I look at the porn blog du jour. Right at the top of the page there’s a large picture of a Japanese woman having her pubic hair burned off with a cigarette lighter.

She didn’t look happy about it.

You know that thing Dilbert used to do, where he’d raise his eyebrows so high they’d leave his head? I could feel my eyebrows trying to do that.

I think I sprained my scalp.

Er, pass.

Check Out My Headlights, Baby!

Hey, I mean that literally! Just lookie here:

Wombat over at Kiss & Blog used the picture in a post griping about how smarmy car salesman can be to us girls still. I totally stole it just so I could use that subject line and song, because that’s my favorite Led Zep song of all time.

Someday I might use that subject and mean my headlights…..maybe for a Half-Nekkid Thursday.

Erotic Spanking Play

Given that so many spanking illustrations feature punishment of one sort or another, it’s refreshing to find a piece of vintage spanking art (via Spanking Blog) that appears to be all about pleasure. Here we have two ladies, a tropical bird tapestry, a lot of pillows, and a whippy cane:

Any woman who’s ever complained of tongues flagging prematurely will sure appreciate this novel approach to maintaining proper levels of oral enthusiasm.

Why RealDolls Are Creepy

Susie Bright has posted an interview with author Sera Gamble that touches on why Real Dolls are creepy:

As for grown women with doll collections – while I didn’t look at them and think, “This woman is perverse,” I do have a reaction. I look at the dolls and wonder why this woman is collecting legions of fake babies. In the end, my response is a visceral one. Dolls are creepy because they so closely resemble real children — pretty, well-dressed, frozen children. Those “Real Dolls” creep me out because they look a little too much like a real woman. Specifically, a staring, motionless, dead woman.

I used to be in a kickboxing class that used a plastic dummy that looked like a man. We would practice aiming kicks at various body parts. Punching a dummy feels different than punching a bag. There’s a strange feeling that you’re almost doing something wrong. Like you’re beating someone up who has to just stand there defenseless. Like you’re doing violence with no accountability. Then came the day when someone put a clown wig and lipstick on the dummy. Now we were humiliating him, too! It was funny, but I felt like underneath, we were indulging some ever-so-slightly dark impulses. God only knows what we would have done to him if he was anatomically correct.

Vintage Japanese Magazine Covers

Here’s a great page of scanned covers from vintage Japanese nudie magazines. Nothing explicit, but it’s still fun to see:

Nude CSI

I’ve been fond of the actress Emily Proctor ever since her Ainsley Hayes character waltzed through Capitol Hill on The West Wing, stealing muffins everywhere she went while destroying blonde stereotypes with strong, intelligent dialogue. Now, of course, she’s a fixture on CSI. I was accordingly pleased to discover that she bared her breasts in the 1990s in a movie called “Breast Men”:

Found on alt. binaries. nude. celebrities.

Keep Your Eyes On The Naked Lady

If my dentist used one of these on me, it would probably work:

A male one would work better, except I’d probably be trying to lick its cock, which would not make the dentist’s job any easier.

I found this at clube dos Malandros. I don’t understand a lick of Spanish, nor can I tell Spanish from Portuguese, but I like a lot of his pictures!

Police Upskirts

Yet another unforseen-but-utterly-unsurprising consequence of the mad stampede to give more and more surveillance cameras to the oh-so-benevolent and trustworthy police:

From this news story via Rabbits Porn Blog, where it’s explained like this:

One normally assumes those candid up skirt sites are often times staged. However, it’s not so difficult to suspend one’s disbelief to enjoy some voyeuristic soft-core. Besides, pursuing the real thing might get you the reputation of a pervert, or even arrested. However, if one was one of the people normally doing the arresting, one might expect to get away with it.

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Doggie Style Sex Art

I’m not sure if drawing this fellow’s head to be shaped like a splitting maul was supposed to be some sort of racist caricature, or not. But regardless, the lady with her face buried in her pillow is absolutely delectable:

She Loves Her Boobies

Barelace says she loves her “boobies” (her word). And you can see why. [links died and were removed]

Shedding The Burden Of Virginity

Dan Savage recently published a collection of letters in his Savage Love column, reporting on some real bad “how I lost my virginity” stories. This one poor girl says she got electrocuted, thrown naked into the street, sunk (naked) in a lake, had to walk home naked again, and more:

We first tried at his house. We thought the shower would be a “sexy” place to do it and that the rushing water would also be a nice cover for any strange noises. In this particular tropical country, showerheads are often electric and some fool had made theirs out of metal. I touched the showerhead briefly and was shocked so severely that I fell and spun out across the floor. At that point his host mother barged in, dragged me out of the house by my feet (buck naked, mind you), called me a ”whore,” and kicked me to the curb.

We came up with another brilliant idea: We would borrow something similar to a rowboat from a friend, paddle out onto the local lake, and get the deed done. This boat was something like 20 feet long, about 1 foot deep, and about 4 feet wide, and made of wood. We brought the necessary items: a bottle of liquor, a joint, and a condom. We paddled out and were almost instantly naked. I stuffed our clothes under the seat in the front of the boat. After one slug of the booze and one puff off the joint, we commenced to clumsily roll around in the bottom of the boat. We were about to do the deed when I told him my ass was getting wet.

“That’s supposed to happen,” he said.

A little lesson in boats: They sink slowly until they’re about half full of water, then they go down like lead weights….

My favorite part: “That’s supposed to happen,” quoth young Lothario. Blub blub.

Escaping From His Pants

This time it’s a vintage handjob:

It’s interesting that her face is shown while his is not. Could this be, like much early erotic photography, an essentially amateur production? Perhaps by a couple of well-to-do “gentlemen” who dare not commit their faces to film, making a souvenir of a dalliance with a lower-status woman who does not care, or cannot afford to object?

Catfighting Sexploitation

I’m not sure what this has to do with anything, except that I like the poster:

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Getting Your Silver Polished

If you’ve ever imagined that it might be fun and handy to have a scullery maid, to wipe all your dishes and, er, polish your candlesticks, here’s a photographic hint of what it might be like:

From Hustler’s Taboo.

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Sexy Ladies Across The Decades

There’s something about vintage sexy pictures that I really like. Part of it is that being in the smut business was, well, smuttier back then. People’s expressions are different too. Some look bored, others look kind of embarrassed or high, and sometimes they look like they’re really enjoying themselves, not in today’s fake-smile way. You also learn alot, like that all kinds of kink happened way back when. Here are some pictures that show what I mean.

She looks like she’s sizing her victim up! Will he get the switch or not? (And what is up with that goofy hat on the chair?)

The next lady is one of the ones that look like they’re really enjoying themselves and will rip anybody that criticizes her a new one.

When I saw this picture the song “Afternoon Delight” popped into my head, and now it’s stuck there, ugh.

But she is lovely and it would be delightful to splash with her. Thanks to Retro Raunch for all these pictures, and lots more! Their pictures are better than these, because I shrank these some. Also a big thank you kiss to Wombat at Kiss & Blog for telling us chicks that confidence is sexy, even when our body isn’t perfect. That’s true for you guys, too.

What To Eat First?

To help my New Year’s resolution to find a man succeed, I’ve been exercizing more and eating better. Yesterday I weighed myself, and I’ve lost almost ten pounds! Woot!!

I was looking for a pretty postcard to say thanx to my sister, and found a perfect one. Don’t you agree?