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The Sex Blog Of Record
July 15th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Gosh, Violet Blue’s Real Doll Fantasy (or as one potential sugar daddy venture capitalist calls it, her RDF) is getting more concrete by the day:
My mind has been absolutely in the gutter contemplating the possibilities. (Scroll down to the original 6/10 entry for my latest sex fantasy weirdness.) A big boy toy, all-silicone, all-man, and all-pliant. Glassy eyes, posable limbs, just begging for it. And a girl, too — a dense silicone sister to hump like an unblinking, horny little love monkey.
…
There would be lots of lube, and toys, too — how else will I pillage silicone boy’s village and storm his shores? First, I’d have to draw a bath to warm up my new guests, and then I’d enjoy toweling them off, oh yeah, baby. Then I’d drag their heavy bodies to my bedroom, sort of like Igor heading to the lab. Maybe then I’d have my helpful assistant jump in… Oh, it’s just too much to think about, but I can tell you that the fantasy ends with everyone covered in gallons of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, wrapped in at least twenty feet of rope, a popped and squashed inflatable St. Bernard, four melted vibrators, a silicone male Real Doll wearing a mullet wig and with “BITCH” tattooed on his ass, a female Real Doll with a big permanent silicone smile, one set each of soiled cheerleader, cop and Hot Dog On A Stick uniforms, and several visits from real officers due to concerned neighbors about the noise.
I swear, this needs to happen. The world needs to watch this video.
July 15th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Since I’m already in trouble for posting a story about the degradation of women without including a bunch of condemnatory hand-wringing, this might be as good a time as any to share these disturbing images from a scanned Japanese video tape wrapper. When it comes to porn, the Japanese do some very strange things:
And a slight variation on the theme:
In case anybody is wondering, no, I’m not hugely turned on by the paint-ball escapade, nor with these grotesque images of a distorted female face. However, the common theme (and I shouldn’t think I’d need to say this on a sex blog, but from time to time it seems I do) is that what consenting adults do to get hot is their own damn business. ErosBlog isn’t in the business of condemning anything in that category, although there are some things you won’t see here simply because your host has a weak stomach.
July 14th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Tristan Taomino writes in The Village Voice:
“I’ve got a theory: The blowjob is the ultimate act of sexual dominance and submission. Forget bondage, ball gags, and buttfucking — sucking cock is pure power exchange.”
She’s also got makeup advice:
“Which reminds me of a story a makeup artist told me about the Barbara Walters-Monica Lewinsky interview. She said, “It was an important media appearance, and so much preparation went into how Monica would look: her clothes, her hair, her makeup. I was shocked to see that Monica’s lips were done up wet and shiny. It just called so much attention to them. You simply do not use gloss on the mouth of a woman known for the most famous blowjob in the world.”
Thanks to Daze for the link.
July 14th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Wow. It’s amazing what horny monkeys can get up to.
Here’s a new commercial sport for you: Hunting for Bambi. For a large sum of money, you can go out into the Nevada desert and hunt naked women with paint ball guns. (You get the guns; they get a pair of sneakers and a powerful financial incentive to try to avoid getting shot. They do not get protective gear.)
As expected, the chattering classes are not happy about this. Here’s some typical news coverage, complete with dire warnings from mental health professionals that this sort of silliness could turn someone into a serial killer. Yeah, right.
The players, meanwhile, appear to be having good old fashioned dirty American fun. Heck, the ladies who get paid to be naked prey even come back and do it again:
“I’ve done this three times,” says Nicole, one of the three women allowing themselves to be shot at. Two other women, Gidget and Skyler, claim they have done this seven times.
…
The woman begin stripping down to their tennis shoes and start running to dodge the paint balls that go buzzing by.
“We got a hit,” said George Evanthes, who just shot and hit one of the women in the behind. “It was sexy. Let’s put it that way,” said Evanthes.
Gidget is the one who took the paint ball shot to the rear. She says, “It hurt. It really hurt. I didn’t think it was going to be that bad.” When asked if she cried she says,”yeah, a little bit.”
So why do women agree to strip down and run around the desert dodging paint balls? Nicole says it’s good money. “I mean it’s $2,500 if you don’t get hit. You try desperately not to and it’s $1000 if you do,” said Nicole.
If you follow the link to the news story, they have video footage of the game, complete with very realistic squeals of pain when the paintballs hit tender areas. Of course all the nude scenes are pixellated, but one girl does reveal a buttock to show off her vivid bruise.
Update: There is increasing evidence that the events described were staged to sell videos, and that no paying hunts ever actually took place. I’m not sure that makes this a hoax for ErosBlog purposes, given that the naked women filmed running around in the desert were actually running around in the desert, but it does put the story in a different light.
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July 13th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
There is a certain type of loutish cad who delights in degrading women by playing a specific game with his buddies. They will rate various women they see as “no-baggers,” “one-baggers,” “two-baggers” and so forth. The idea is a rating system based on “How many brown bags you’d have to put over her head before you could stand to sleep with her.” Crass to be sure, and the guys who play this game a lot seem to enjoy putting ladies down more than anything else.
Anyway, it now appears that at least one such cad has both a camera and bad judgment. Because these ladies (judging by the bits we can see) are lovely:
I suppose there’s a simpler explanation for this shot. Perhaps these ladies lost a bet, or chose poorly in a game of truth-or-dare?
July 12th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
A while back I got a couple of emails offering to send me sex-related goodies for free, in the hope that I would mention them here. Well, that’s a deal I can get behind! Just email me me and I’ll tell you where to ship the loot.
So last night I got my first chance to sample the plunder. I watched Marie and Jack, A Love Story. This is a very nice 27 minute documentary style sex movie from Comstock Films. I’m not sure how else to describe it, but it’s very hot.
It starts with Marie and Jack, two adult film actors, having a chat about sex. They talk about the difference between “work sex” and “personal sex” and what it’s like to make movies together, and to be married to each other while doing adult movies.
As they talk, it’s clear they are deeply in love. And then the movie starts cutting to scenes of them making love. No porno music, no weird positions, just plain old missionary style sex between two reasonably attractive people who are obviously really hot for each other. This is comfortable sex, familiar sex, real sex, and it’s hotter than hell.
And what’s to say after that? She gets that soft look, huge smile, and incandescent glow about her that a woman gets when she’s having an orgasm, and that you never see in a porno flick. She comes, he comes, they laugh together and cuddle with huge grins on their faces, end of movie. Wow.
Men, I’ve got to say I think this would be an awesome movie to show your lady. It’s tasteful enough to be an art film, it’s got a real relationship in it, it’s sexy enough to get both of you aroused, and it’s short enough that you’re going to want to continue on your own after the movie finishes. I’ll bet it would go well with a tub of these, too.
July 11th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Here thanks to Twisted Fans is a brief photoessay about the modern “lap dancing” trade, with pictures taken from the book Lapdancer by photographer Juliana Beasley. Apparently the main floor show strip tease dancing has gone away… if you can believe everything you read in the newspapers about the flesh trades. That’s always been a highly reliable way of obtaining high quality information, right up there with consulting Tipper Gore about the positive qualities of youth music. However, the pictures in the essay are worth a look, and some of the accompanying text is pretty funny too:
Beasley notes that lap-dancers now commonly spread cloths across customers’ laps. At one time the customer’s trousers served this barrier function, but apparently it can no longer be taken for granted that customers are in fact wearing pants.
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