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ErosBlog: The Sex Blog

Sex Blogging, Gratuitous Nudity, Kinky Sex, Sundry Sensuality
 
 
December 11th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Thor’s Hammers For The Discreet Pagan

Back in my college days, I sometimes hung out with an assortment of Wiccans and neopagans and Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA) types. I blended best, among that crew, with the pseudo-Vikings, if only because I knew how to, and was willing to, brew a foul-but-potent quick-mead in five gallon batches. Thus did I become familiar with the iconography of the Thor’s hammer, worn as jewelry in much the same way that Christians wear crosses. This late Saxon example was found in Norfolk with a metal detector:

gold thor's hammer pendant

But in the looming Mike Pence blood-soaked theocracy, where should a discreet follower of the old Norse gods carry his sacred hammer pendant, once the weekly public pagan burnings get underway? It’s a problem, but I think I may have found a solution. This Cock Screw Silicone Penis Plug Set may be marketed as a matched set of urethral sounds, but to my eye the plugs seem pretty clearly designed to function as crypto-hammers that a Thor-worshiper can carry you-know-where, without being discovered by any but the most intrusive of body searches:

cock screw urethral sound set silicone

Laugh now if you must, but you’ll thank me, ye Sons of Odin, after the first time you get caught up in a random religious purity sweep by the Rapture Brigades.

Meanwhile back in your urethra, here is some more information:

The innovative Cock Screw Set consists of a pair of thick silicone sounds featuring wing nut handles at the base so you can easily control how deep you want to penetrate or how slow you want to twist without fumbling.

The Cock Screw Set comes with two sounds: Spike and Twist. Use Spike for a smooth slide down your shaft, or really put those wing nut handles to use with Twist, turning its spiral shape deep inside until your eyes roll back. With both measuring an impressive 6.5 mm diameters at their widest points, you’ll be pretty well stuffed no matter which design you use.

The Cock Screw Set of sounds are made of 100% pure platinum cure silicone, making them ideal for urethral insertion. Both a body-safe material and able to be sterilized, these silicone plugs are also flexible, allowing for a more forgiving insertion. Made in the USA by the cock toy experts at Oxballs.

These sounds are currently quite heavily discounted as part of the Yuletide Naughty Or Nice sale that The Stockroom is running through December 26, as is much else besides! That sale is well worth checking out.

Update: It turns out I have blogged about these plugs before. The first time I saw them, I thought axe, not hammer. How quickly the world changes, and our outlook with it!

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December 10th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Precision Cock Handling

Because careful finger placement is important!

precise penis fingering

Artwork is from the interior illustrations from a French-language edition of the anonymous classic My Secret Life, probably drawn by French painter Berthommé-Saint-André. Via the Highs And Lows Of A Book Hunter blog.

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December 9th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Share Our Shit Saturday #SoSS

I have missed making Share Our Shit Saturday posts two weeks in a row due to circumstances that were, more or less, beyond my control, so here’s to avoiding the trifecta:

  1. A post about bad sex — sex you don’t want but consented to anyway — by Ella Dawson.
  2. The most frequently-seen recurring feature at Violet Blue’s venerable blog Tiny Nibbles: Open Source Sex is her Sex News compilation. (Luckily for me, it’s also usually my favorite.)
  3. My good friend Doctor Faustus at Erotic Mad Science is steadily posting the pages of his first bilingual webcomic “In the Kitchen with Dolcetta / En la cocina con Dolcetta.” The first page is here; this tag link will get you all the pages currently available.

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December 8th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Annie Speirs And Friends

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Annie Speirs, the proud winner of an Olympic gold medal at the 1912 games in the 4x100m relay. At a time when women in swimming events were considered scandalous (those bodies! the suits! gasp!) she’s standing bold and proud next to her team’s grim-faced and utterly formidable chaperone, nipples fully popped through her silk competition swimsuit, giving absolutely zero fucks and daring the world to make something of it:

Annie Coupe Spears and her nippy nipples

Photo via Spanking Blog.

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December 7th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Consent, Conscience, And Revolution

There’s a lengthy essay out by Laurie Penny that is worthy of your time. It’s about, in part, the recent astonishing outburst of… whatever this is… and why it’s even more important to all of us than it looks at first when examined as a simple matter of human justice:

A great many abusers and their allies have begged us to step back and examine the context in which they may or may not have sexually intimidated or physically threatened or forcibly penetrated one or several female irrelevances who have suddenly decided to tell the world their experiences as if they mattered.

Look at the whole picture, these powerful men say. Consider the context. I agree. Context is vital. It is crucial to consider the context in which this all-out uprising against toxic male entitlement is taking place. The context being, of course, a historical moment where it has become obvious that toxic male entitlement is the greatest collective threat to the survival of the species.

I am going to be discursive for a moment. Have you enjoyed the sport of watching male newscasters on television talking about these recent events, and trying to spot the not-yet-outed guilty weasels? Some of them are definitely starting to show green around the gills; they have this nervous and shifty look, as if, you might think, they have examined their consciences and come up… concerned?

Others — Chris Hayes on MSNBC comes to mind — have dived into reporting the harassment-and-abuse news with vigor and gravity, but nary the scent of weasel. Only two possibilities flow from that demeanor: a completely clear conscience, or consummate acting skills. Too many shocks and surprises make us idiots if we assume the best of anybody (Garrison fucking Keillor?) but I’ve got a pretty clean conscience of my own so I know it’s possible. (I credit a happy relationship, plus the not-usually-so-helpful fact that minor social phobias tend to keep me from making eye contact with, much less inappropriate verbal or physical advances on, anybody who is not The Nymph.)

So let me speak for a moment to the community — however small it may be — of men of relative clear conscience, men who accordingly might be watching this unhappy spectacle from a place of smugness, amusement, bemusement, or detachment, perhaps thinking “this doesn’t directly affect me.”

You’re wrong. I was wrong. Laurie Penny’s piece explains why. The mass refusal of women to take this kind of bullshit any longer offers a directly relevant object lesson:

We know the world doesn’t work the way most of us want it to. We watch a bunch of badly-fitted suits stuffed with self-satisfied swagger frogmarch our nations down the road to economic calamity and climate destruction, and we try to tell ourselves that we chose this, that we have some sort of control, that there is a thing called democracy that is working more or less as it was designed to. We want to believe that some of this is our fault, because if it isn’t, then maybe we can’t do anything to stop it. This is more or less the experience of being a citizen of a notionally liberal, notionally democratic country these days. It is depressing and scary. And if we ever actually speak about it honestly we can count on being dismissed as crazy or bullied into silence, so it’s easier to swallow our rage, to bear up and make the best of things and try not to start drinking before noon every day. Being as furious as we want feels like it might be fatal, so we try not to be too angry. Or we direct our anger elsewhere. Or we turn it inwards. Or we check out altogether.

Sound familiar? That’s about how most women experience sexuality.

Oh, shit. No matter how clear I thought my conscience was, if I’m part of that… *gulp*

Moving on, rapidly.

Penny makes the point that our current society generally is based on abuses of consent. She argues that the women coming forward right now are, perhaps, a vanguard. She argues, if not in so many words, that taking consent seriously is literally revolutionary:

We watch the despots warming their tiny grasping hands around the trash fire of civil society, we look at the real extent of rape and abuse being revealed all around us and some of us still try to believe that we somehow choose this. Because the alternative is even worse. The alternative, awful truth is that it doesn’t matter what the vast majority of us choose. That none of the choices on offer are enough to protect us, or our families, or our communities from violence, that the important choices were never ours to begin with, that we are not living in an age of consent.

What happens when enough people stop believing that they ever wanted a world like this? What might happen to us as a society — hell, as a species — if enough of us begin to take consent seriously? What might happen if enough of us stood up together and refused to spend another second watching rich old white men do whatever the fuck they want to our bodies and call it freedom? Well, we might be about to find out.

It’s been a tired blogging trope for almost twenty years, so by now you should know the drill. Go read the whole thing: The Consent of The (Un)Governed).

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December 5th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Flirting With The Hotel Doctor

I’m sure he’s got something that can pep up a bored 1950s housewife who has been dragged along on a business trip and wants to make sure her bored husband thoroughly regrets the error of his ways:

woman flirting with hotel doctor

From the cover of Hotel Doctor by Frank Haskell (1954).

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December 4th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Not Taking It Up The Ass Ruined Amy’s Marriage

Perhaps, not really? To be technical: not taking it up the ass ruined Amy’s engagement, and a dispassionate observer might speculate that this actually saved her from what promised to be a genuinely disastrous marriage. Amy herself apologizes for the “clickbaity title” of her post, which is, in full: Not Taking It Up the Ass Ruined My Marriage, and Five Other Stories About Anal Sex. In due time, though, with a different guy, one of Amy’s other anal sex stories goes rather better:

I want to be ravished, to be used, to be his anal slut. His cock slides into my ass, an inch at a time, until he’s buried deep in me. And then he’s fucking me hard. I’m not getting any stimulation to my cunt or clit, but I can feel something building within me. I realise a moment before it happens that I am going to come. My ass clenches around him as my muscles spasm in my first anal-only orgasm. Watching me get off this way tips him over the edge too and he tenses, moans, and I feel him come in my ass.

Afterwards, we cuddle. I say, ‘hey, remember when I thought I didn’t like anal sex?’

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