Daze has found, and linked to, Christina Rossetti’s poem “The Goblin Market“, which is a poem about girls who get hungry for fruit:

“She dropp’d a tear more rare than pearl,
Then suck’d their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flow’d that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She suck’d and suck’d and suck’d the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She suck’d until her lips were sore….

No sex to see here…move along now.

It seems that Bacchus no more gets invited to the good picnics than he does to the good costume parties. Here’s a tranquil scene, as the sun sets over the (mostly) abandoned picnic grounds covered in folding chairs, empty beer bottles and (oh yes!) someone’s drunk, passed out, topless wife or girlfriend.

In case you were curious, an Interview with an Autofellator. A highlight:

Imagine having someone suck on your cock who knows exactly what you’re feeling at every moment; who can adjust every variable instantly to provide you with maximum pleasure. Imagine (this one is going to be more of a stretch for non-cocksuckers) sucking on the cock of a man who knows exactly how hard and fast to push, and when to pull out (for those of us who still have a gag-reflex). Having that much control means that I can have a variety of kinds of orgasms and can easily separate orgasm from ejaculation, and shoot a number of loads before having the final orgasm. It isn’t a substitute for sex with other people; it’s a completely different thing, like masturbation squared. It’s like any good sex: Sometimes it’s cerebral, sometimes the body takes over.

Dr. Menlo, it turns out, has a covert surveillance portraitist concealed in the ErosBlog compound. (This would also explain the funny looking spot in the Hydrangea bushes with all the black cigarette butts and empty oil paint tubes on the ground.) Thus was Dr. Menlo able to publish this never-before-seen expose view of an editorial meeting at a sex blog:

Now, back to the serious business of publishing.

Later update: This is, of course, Nymphs and Satyr by William-Adolphe Bouguereau.

Serious blog techies may be pleased to learn that ErosBlog is attempting to implement an RSS feed. (If you don’t know what this is, don’t worry; Bacchus understands it only dimly.)

Anyway, for now the feed is limited to headlines only. Attempts to include a description element, which in this software can only consist of the complete blog entry or a snippet from the front end of an entry, result in a feed that won’t validate as RSS and won’t display as XML, because of the target=blank attribute on links within the description.

If anyone knows why this is so, or whether it matters, Bacchus would be pleased to be enlightened. Meanwhile, stumbling research continues apace…after sleep.

Sometimes Bacchus cannot shake the feeling that he is not getting invitations to the really good costume parties. It’s odd, really. It’s impossible to say where that suspicion comes from, or why he feels that way:

Probably Bacchus is just being paranoid.

Mike Snider, a modern (as in, currently alive) poet who actually writes poems real humans can read and enjoy, says that any straight man who writes about sex is automatically suspect in some feminist circles. Yeah, but that’s hardly surprising, since sex itself (at least, sex involving a penis and any female orifice) is automatically suspect in some feminist circles. It may be that Andrea Dworkin never actually wrote the exact words “All sex is rape” — but she wrote some things that sure suggested she felt that way, and the idea has surprisingly persistent “legs” in, as Mike Snider put it, “some (not all) feminist circles.”

But that’s OK. Somehow it doesn’t seem likely that too many Dworkinites are loyal readers of ErosBlog.

Anyway, it bothers Mike that “there’s not much explicitly sexual poetry by men about sex with women.” Fortunately, he’s doing something about it:

We woke entangled in new love’s designs
And scrapped a plan to breakfast in the park….

Thank you, Mike.