Demonic Dimensions

We’re running out of month, so it must be time for this:

An Uncut Penis

Although uncut penises are just about as rare as real breasts in American porn, you have clamored and I have found one — by going overseas, of course. Coincidentally, several of you have reminded me of the National Penis Day recently celebrated in New Zealand. Naked Protesters has the pictures:

That’s a fellow named Alex Behan.

The Sex Gun

Since I’m obviously not going to be winning the political correctness sweepstakes any time soon, I might as well post this picture of the gun-shaped vibrator:

Now that’s an object fraught with enough symbolism to fuel two whole weeks of heated discussion in a Women’s Studies classroom near you.

Found the picture on this archive page for SF Gate columnist Mark Morford.

Comic Book Penis

National Penis Month is not forgotten. This is from a panel in a French-language comic book found on alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. cartoons:

Markets In Sex, Redux

People who condemn prostitution would do well to remember that there are always women for whom it offers a vastly better life than their next best alternative. I’ll let an Iranian brothel worker speak for herself on this point:

How old are you?

I’m fifteen.

Why did you leave home?

One day I was coming home from school when Abbas started following me, asking for alms. Every day for a week he followed me home, but I ignored him. Then one day I answered, and my brother happened to see me. He went straight to my father. That night my father beat me until my whole body was black and blue. Then he locked me in the cellar. There were rats down there. I screamed and shouted, but no one came to help me. I thought I was going to die from fright. The next day, after my father had gone to work, my sister passed a piece of bread and some cheese to me under the cellar door. For a whole month she did that every day. For a whole month I didn’t wash or change my clothes. There was a pit in the cellar where I went to the bathroom. Finally, I broke a window in the middle of the night and managed to escape into the street. I had no chador, so I stole one from the mosque. I was on my way to the bus terminal when I was picked up by the police. At six o’clock in the morning, they took me back home. I was beaten again. This time my father hung me by my feet from the hook he used to hang slaughtered lambs. That night my sister cut me down. She said, “Go.” I said, “He’s going to kill you.” She said, “You go, I’ll think of something.” She gave me a chador and some money. I went straight to the town square, found a ride, and came to Teheran.

And what do you do now?

I work in a house. The madam I work for pays me and lets me go out for walks.

Do you want to go home?

No. Once I called and spoke to my sister. She said that my father beat her for a week after I left, so she would tell him where I was. And my mother told her that if she sees me she’ll burn me alive.

Why?

My mother says that since I am going to burn in the next life, it is her duty to set fire to me in this one.

Thanks to Daze for the link.

Setting Phone Sex Expections

Diablo from Pussy Ranch has been doing working the phone sex lines lately, and she offers trenchant advice:

Note to callers: If you’re sharing an elaborate gay buttfuck fantasy with me, don’t randomly interject “Oh, and while the one guy is fucking me up the ass, I want Jennifer Love Hewitt to suck my dick.” I will bust a gut laughing, so don’t act all wounded about it.

And some etiquette as well, complete with grammar tips:

In an awkward attempt to transition to the action-packed phase of our interaction, I will say, “So, what do you like to do for fun?”

You always — always! — reply, “You.”

Excuse me while I heave with laughter. I’ve never heard anything quite so clever! Except, you know, the last four guys said the exact same thing.

Variations on this reply include “Green-eyed blondes,” “Hot chicks,” or, my personal favorite, “Watch girls suck my cock.”

Allow me to explain something: When I asked you what you like to do, I was using the implied imperfective tense of the verb. As in, “What do you like to do, as an ongoing thing, meaning something you have actually done.” I didn’t say “What would you like to do?” I didn’t say, “In a perfect world, where you look like Heath Ledger and don’t live with your mother, what might you enjoy doing?

Electric Sex

If you look at very much internet porn, you cannot possibly have avoided stumbling across an electro-sex site like Wired Pussy. If you ever wondered what e-stim was all about, Dan Savage explains it all. Since it’s Dan, dicks are involved. However, I am reliably informed they don’t have to be. For the ladies, electrically charged huge gleaming steel dildos are not unheard of:

Thanks to Matisse for the link.

Master Bates, I Presume?

Mistress Matisse gets the most hilarious phone calls. The last one started like this:

“I’m calling about your ad, but I’m not a submissive. My name (dramatic pause) is Master Ryker Blackstar.”

Dollars to doughnuts, this is the same guy who wrote “Rules For My Slavegirls“.

Markets In Sex

Free-Market.Net in its Spotlight on Sexual Freedom quotes libertarian activist and former prostitute Norma Jean Almodovar on one of the many arguments that get raised against a free market in sex:

“If the reason society continues to arrest men and women who engage in prostitution is that it is degrading, then perhaps someone could explain how going to jail, being strip-searched, checked for lice, and asked to undress in front of dozens of insensitive guards and inmates somehow resolves this problem.”

Of course the answer is that cops and prison guards would demand higher pay if they didn’t get free peep shows in the workplace.

Just kidding. The real answer is that society doesn’t criminalize hooking because it’s degrading to the participants. Society criminalizes hooking because too many “respectable” women hate competition. More precisely, they hate the fact that prostitution puts limits on the ancient game of “do what I want or you won’t get any tonight.”

Bonus Penis, Womanhandled

For your patience, an extra reward. Sorry, Katy, but she’s not being nice to the penis in this Men In Pain shoot.

Olsen Twins Sex Photos

Have you ever seen a more shameless attempt to trawl for search engine hits?

So sue me.

I had missed it, but apparently dirty old men everywhere are now celebrating the fact that the Olsen twins are finally legal. Fleshbot has the story covered. And how! They’ve even come up with fake morphed Olsen twins porn.

Sorry, no penises in this post. Patience, my sweets, the day is young.

The Russian Penis Quota

I once visited Russia during the late Soviet period, at a time when cheesy propaganda posters were still the second-most prevalent form of public art (after statues of Lenin, of course.) At that time, the Five Year Plan was still an official priority, which means that posters saying “You Need To Fulfill The Plan” could be seen on every wall.

The Communists may be gone, but the bureaucratic Russian soul endures. Evidence? How about this story (sent in by a friend) from the Moscow Times, regarding the publication of the Russian edition of Playgirl? The article devotes most of its ink to a concern about whether Russian women will approve of circumcised American penises. Anyway, down near the end, we get this gem:

Chermenskaya and the publication’s founders, whom she refused to identify, studied Russia’s confusing pornography laws before registering Playgirl as an erotic entertainment magazine. As erotica, Playgirl cannot publish photographs depicting sexual intercourse and has a quota for the number of large pictures of penises in each issue: six, Chermenskaya said.

A penis quota! Only in Russia.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Penis In A Jar
• Comic Book Penis
• Demonic Dimensions
• Rasputin's Penis
• Remote Controlled Attack Penis

Res Ipsa Loquitur

Has any one of my faithful readers never had a female coworker who needed to be sentenced to six hours in this chair?

I thought not.

Picture lifted from Bondage Blog.

Penis In A Jar

Despite an unwavering preference for genitalia with live warm people attached, I did previously link to the story about Rasputin’s penis. Comes now a much better Yahoo photograph, complete with pretty blonde examining the goods:

Of course, the thing itself remains pretty hideous.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Rasputin's Penis, Redux
• Rasputin's Penis

More National Penis Month

Don’t worry, ladies, National Penis Month continues. Although I don’t see how any of my male readers could possibly object to this one, all things considered:

I have another shot from this photo series which I may post another day….

Picture is from my alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. vintage directory.

Sex and Propaganda

I recently stumbled across this interesting article on the use of sexual imagery in propaganda. The article is profusely illustrated, but unfortunately the image quality tends to be rather low. Here’s one of the clearer ones:

From the article:

During the Korean War the above leaflet was released in both Chinese and Korean versions. The leaflet above is the Chinese version and depicts a Chinese woman being raped by a horrific looking Russian soldier while two other soldiers hold another poor woman prisoner while they wait their turn. The message, intended for Chinese soldiers fighting in Korea, was for them to stop fighting and return to China to “Guard your Homes and Protect Your Country.”

National Penis Month Continues

As the letters flow in, it becomes increasingly clear that I have for too long allowed my own fascination with the female form to obscure the longstanding ErosBlog editorial policy of inclusiveness. A subset of my male “readers” have apparently come to expect the nekkid wimmin and nothing but the nekkid wimmin. Some of the efforts to distract me from the parade of penii (note to commenters of a pedantic bent: the use of bogus latinate pluralii for humorous effect has a long and venerable pedigree) have now descended to the level of attempted bribery, as witnessed by this email I just got:

Dude.. enough with the penises,,,,heres a pic of my girlfriend taken last nite with a verizon phone

The pic itself is a grainy-but-attractive close-up of a bare pussy, and I ain’t talkin’ feline here. Nice try! But (even leaving aside the unresolved question about whether my comma-loving friend saw fit to tell his girlfriend about his public generosity with her pubic lips, and notwithstanding the fact that Verizon must die, this is National Penis Month, and I shall not be distracted until the crusade of rectification is at an end. There’s supposed to be something for everyone here at ErosBlog, and it would appear that I’ve been neglecting pictures of penises for too long.

Don’t worry, boys, this too shall pass. But meanwhile, a ghost penis spotted at Wisarts and sent in by an enthusiastic and supportive female friend:

Government Bondage

No, really:

Found at Bondage Blog.

And speaking of bondage, Mistress Matisse sent me a picture for National Penis Month. She took it herself, and it’s guaranteed to make your average man gasp and clutch at his crotch. I was going to post it, but when I told The Nymph about it she begged and pleaded for me not to, because she doesn’t want to see it. (She doesn’t like needles, you see.) We eventually compromised: if you want to see it, click this link. You have been warned. Thanks, Mistress Matisse — I think.

The Blushing Nymph

I made The Nymph blush this morning.

We were snuggling as she was waking up, and she seemed to be biting my elbow. I asked “What are you doing, dear?”

She said “I’m measuring your elbow.”

I said: “Huh?” (I’m not at my witty best in the morning.)

Her: “I’m measuring it. I’m trying to see how much of it I can get in my mouth, it’s the only way I have to measure anything right now.”

I think about this for a moment. “I’ve got something else you can measure if you like….”

Penis Worship During National Penis Month

National Penis Month continues. But I figure, hey, if we’re worshiping dick anyway, let’s show it being done right:

The artist is Loic Dubigeon.

Conversation In Bed, With Dead Man

I found this over at Smitten, which I haven’t read in far too long:

Me: Do you love me?
Alex: Yes.
Me: How much?
Alex: (Spreads arms) This much.
Me: Prove it.
Alex: How?
Me: Two carats worth?
Alex: You want hummus with those, right?

The man doesn’t want to live, but he’ll die well.

National Penis Month

Ok, it’s officially National Penis Month here at ErosBlog. National Penis Month will continue until the guys who can’t stand to see dick stop whining about it, or until I get bored, or until it’s July, whichever comes first. Hint: the more you whine, the longer it will take me to get bored.

I stole this particularly fat-and-healthy-looking cock specimen from Spanking Blog.

And since ThatGirl started it: “Penis penis penis penis penis!”

The Perils Of Victoria’s Secret

Rupert unwittingly allowed himself to be rooked into a family shopping outing that included a stop for his wife to pick up some underwear. At, it turned out, Victoria’s Secret. He learned some things, including:

Men: Never take your daughter to Victoria’s Secret.

She might ask what is the difference between briefs, bikinis, low-rider bikinis and “boy-cut” panties (which, apparently, Victoria’s Secret calls “hot pants”). To illustrate her quandry, she might hold up one of each garment so labeled. There is no difference immediately apparent to a Mere Mortal, which is to say, to a man. And because my mind works the way it does, I automatically use every ounce of topological imagination I have to picture my daughter wearing them in sufficient detail to be able to describe how they hug her body differently.

My gorgeous sixteen-year-old daughter. In Victoria’s Secret underwear. Yikes!

I am unable to avoid this mental picture once the question is asked, even if it wasn’t asked of me (which it was not). Even if my daughter were not, well, a Babe (which she is).

At which point there is really no choice. I must either leave the store or gouge my eyes out. Possibly both. Oh, look, a B Dalton’s.

What’s Under The Kilt?

One of the unexpected side benefits of the growing rage for candid upskirt photography is this final definitive answer to that age old question: What does a Scotsman wear under his kiltie?

Knowledge I could have done without.

The Blowjob Curse

Woe be unto him, who would be deserving of this curse:

May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your pubic hair, may you be forced to lick sweat from the balls of every water buffalo in Asia, and may you forever share your house and bed with a woman like this one:

I get pretty lazy about sex acts that require alot of work, like blow jobs: I can live the rest of my life without doing it, honestly. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike them but I wouldn’t miss them either. Let’s just say that I give enough to shut the guy up but I need to be motivated, like if he decides to cook me a great dinner, or takes me out someplace fun. I know, I’m supposed to just love doing it without thinking about what I may get in return but blow jobs are not a labor of love to me….

I’m not saying cutting corners on giving blow jobs is admirable, it isn’t, but I’ve done my share and if I have to use a little teeth to discourage some guys from ever asking again, I’ll do it. That way, it’s got to be so bad, they’d have to be masochists to ask me again. (I only did it lightly, as the last thing I wanted was for the guys to get hurt. I just wanted it to be bad enough that they wouldn’t want me to blow them again.)

Attributed to one “Laura the Tooth” (well, actually just Laura) over on Yellow Curious, the curiously racialized blog where every person mentioned gets identified by race before the author says whatever it is he has to say about them.

How Not To Get Sex Blog Links

I get a lot of people who write in looking to get on the blog roll. Whether that happens tends to depend on intangible factors, but it almost never happens immediately. Usually I dump those emails into a folder to look at when I’m short of blogging material; and there’s stuff a year old in there that I haven’t looked at yet.

I can’t offer tips on what’s likely to strike my fancy. But I can offer the following tips on what not to do:

1) Send me an email about your nifty blog — and omit to send along a link. Believe it or not, this happens a lot.

2) Ask for a link…but don’t put up a link to ErosBlog. For extra points, ask for links to your “blog” that doesn’t have any outgoing links.

3) Ask to “exchange” links. I figure, if you like ErosBlog, you’ll already have a link up. And if you don’t like it, odds are you’ll “forget” to put up my link later.

4) Ask for a link to your nifty new blog “that only has one post so far.”

5) Ask for a link to your blog — that doesn’t exist at the specified URL a mere week later.

I could go on in this vein, but that’s a good start.

Eager To Get Married

Here’s a young lady so eager to catch the bouquet, she jumped right up out of her dress for it. If it’s a husband she was after, I’m guessing this was a pretty good advertising strategy:

Of course, there’s always a risk this pic is a Photoshop job. You pays your money (no, wait, you didn’t) and you takes your chances.

A Fifth Of Loneliness

Your tax dollars at work: according to this news report [link broken and removed], the United States government has researched the matter and has scientifically determined that sex makes us happy. Profound grasp of the obvious, there!

What I found interesting, although not surprising, is that the study (of 16,000 people) found that more than a fifth (22%) had not had sex at all in the previous year. You know that intuitive sense you get, that a lot of the people you run into every day badly need to get laid? You were right all along!

Aww, Nice Doggie

Here’s a nice doggie who has found Momma’s special stick and wants to play a game of fetch:

Isn’t that the cutest thing?

Bad Sex Advice

Don’t talk to me about the wisdom of the ancients:

“And it is absolutely NOT necessary for wives to move at all. For a women prevents and battles pregnancy if in her joy, she answers the man’s lovemaking with her buttocks, and her soft breasts billow forward and back; for she diverts the ploughshare out of the furrow and makes the seed miss its mark. Whores practice such movements for their own reasons, to avoid conception and pregnancy, and also to make the lovemaking more enjoyable for men, which obviously isn’t necessary for our wives.”

— Lucretius (60 B.C.)

Found via a link over on Tiny Nibbles.