It turns out that “God is a masturbator.”

These people appear to be serious. But then again, so did the Landover Baptists, once upon a more innocent net age. We report, you decide.

Anarchist Boone over at Nolo Consentire has a nightmare vision about how the LA cops are going to figure out who is cruising for hookers:

Is there going to be a roadside tumescence test, or what?

“I’m sorry sir, but you have been seen driving around this block looking at women and transvestites. Please step out of the car and remove your clothing so we can attach this device to your genitals…..”

The Group Captain has his own satellite photos of naked peace protesters. These ones seem to be pursuing a sort of reverse Lysistrata peace strategy….

This picture is in honor of the recently completed Yukon Quest sled dog race.

The above picture makes Bacchus thirsty. It also puts him in mind of the following extremely explicit but wildly implausible passage about anal sex and ripe oranges, from the book Captive by Aishling Morgan. Don’t read on if you are likely to be offended by this sort of thing:

Aisla sighed as the warm grease from the roast duck touched her bottom hole, then gave a little gasp as her anus was penetrated. Yarath began to wriggle his finger about in her rectum, exploring her and greasing her ring, then feeling the shape of the tangerines through the membrane between vagina and rectum. Aisla pushed her bottom back, eager for buggery, but was given a gentle slap for her trouble. Yareth’s finger pulled from her anus and something replaced it, not his cock, but another tangerine. 

With her eyes and mouth wide in shock, Aisla struggled to accept the fruit in her back passage. She felt her ring stretch and a complaining stab of pain, but even as she cried out her anus gave and the fruit had popped inside. She accepted it with a long groan. Juice had splashed between her buttocks and was trickling down her thighs, showing that the tangerine had burst as it went up her. Sulitea giggled again as another fruit was pressed to Aisla’s anus, again stretching, hurting and popping inside just when she thought she could not take it. A third followed, leaving both vagina and rectum bloated and straining, while she felt an urgent need to evacuate herself.

Only then did Yarath take her by the hips, and she realised she was to be buggered with the tangerines still in her rectum. His cock went in slowly, forcing the fruit aside and increasing the straining feeling in her bowels. By the time he was in her to the hilt she was panting and struggling for breath, overwhelmed by the bloated sensation in her gut and up her vagina.

Yarath began to bugger her, with the fruit rolling and bumping in her rectum with each push. Aisla’s control went quickly, and as Sulitea came to stroke her hair, she panted and grunted her way through the sodomy. Her hands were locked hard on the table top at first, gripped tight in a futile attempt to control herself. Soon they slipped, first back to her buttocks to stretch them open, then beneath herself to find her clitoris and start on the climb to orgasm.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Victorian Anal Sex
• Squeezing An Orange
• Goose Grease Prepares The Way!
• The Erotics of Citrus
• Speaking of Oranges

Thanks to Daze we are linked to a nice story about the lusty February holiday that the church flagellated into the submissive modern and chaste St. Valentine’s Day. And what a holiday it was, that old Lupercalia! Complete with a sex lottery:

And all the young lasses in the city would place their names in a large urn, and the city’s eligible bachelors would choose a name out of the urn and become paired for the year with his chosen woman, often resulting in marriage. You know, sort of like the Mormons. Only with actual sex. And booze. And without the creepy undergarments.

Frankly, that sounds like a social custom of real utility!

“…and get into the enemy’s rear, which means get into where all his soft assets are….”

Who says the soldier boys and their media catamites aren’t enjoying all this?