July 1st, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Here’s an image from a book called The Rotenberg Collection: Forbidden Erotica. If it’s the vintage image it’s purported to be, it was a remarkable piece of darkroom creativity when made.
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July 1st, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Doxy writes:
I have always had difficulty making female friends. The guys I had covered. Guys are easy. They don’t plot. They don’t catfight. They rarely make the effort to betray intentionally. Men are just horny little dogs. You feed them, you cuddle them, you pat them on the head and tie them to trees. They’re relatively simple.
I don’t have anything to add. Except, perhaps, that you want to make sure you tie us nice and tight unless you are up for some evil laughter followed by friendly wrestling and a good stint of bark time your own fine self.
June 30th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
I liked San Francisco well enough when I lived there for a couple of years. However, this story reminds me that, as a geeky broke straight boy with no motorcycle, I missed out on some of its more signal charms. True fact: the most exciting thing I ever touched on Ocean Beach was some sea glass. I like better the sound of this San Francisco:
She headed north on Franklin and I wondered where we were going. When she took a left onto Geary I realized she was headed for the beach and not either of our apartments. That was fine with me a little shiver went through me at the vision of being caught by a park ranger while her head was between my legs.
She must have brought other women here, I thought, when we stepped onto the sand and I saw that she had chosen a spot that was sheltered from the wind. When we had arrived she had opened up one of her saddlebags and pulled out a blanket, and she spread that out for us now. The air was warm, but maybe it was just that my whole body felt as though it was desperate for her touch. We both kicked off our shoes.
She sat, and pulled me down with her. Then she reached over, opened my jacket, and both of her hands went to my breasts….
Thanks to Crystal at Exposed for sharing this and lots of other stories.
June 30th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Being as I am a charitably-inclined fellow, I don’t suppose Dirty Whore means to be a cruel tease when she writes:
Have I mentioned lately how much I love to suck cock? How much I love to take it deep and let my throat squeeze the head, or how I like to flick the most sensitive spots with my tongue? How I enjoy using my hand while I lick and suck on his balls?
That’s only the beginning.
Cruel, cruel I say!
June 29th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Mike Taht makes a good point:
It would be a far better world if more politicians spent more time pounding the flesh rather than pressing it. Every minute Clinton spent banging Monica Lewinski he wasn’t screwing the rest of us or the world. Every time she knelt before that mighty cigar – she was a heroine.
June 29th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Violet Blue has a cool idea:
But still, if it weren’t for the hugenormous price tag, I’d love to roll around with both a male and female Realdoll for a weekend, even with an added real live person, and if anyone wants to sponsor me doing the deed and writing an article about this scenario (and will ship screener dolls), I’m up for the challenge. Hell, if people can get rubes to pay their ridiculous charge card debts via their web sites, and solicit donations to help them get dates or boob jobs (pop-ups, no pun), then there’s hope for my “Pervert Porn Reviewer Has Realdoll Orgy Article Fund.”
C’mon, it would be ten gees well spent. Anyone?
June 27th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
This, allegedly, is food, prepared by good churchly people and served to children and maiden aunts with a straight face:
Apparently it’s called “Candle Salad” and it’s prepared in all innocence by Mormons and folk of that ilk. Theresa explains it all, in a long post about Mormon food of which this is but the tiniest excerpt:
Back then I was also taught to make candle salad, only we dipped our bananas in Dream Whip and rolled them in crushed cornflakes before placing them upright in their pineapple rings and sticking half of a red maraschino cherry onto the tip. It takes a very, very clean mind to think that up.
Oh my, yes.
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