Rebecca is having a dessert fantasy:

“I am imagining the sheer desire and eroticism of laying in between the layers of a Boston Cream Pie slice. Slipping my naked body into the cool custard, feeling it coat my hardened nipples like a lover’s I-just-drank-some-cold-water tongue. Pinned down by cake and chocolate ganache, pressing my ass deeper into the custard until it parts my ruby lips, sending shivers up my spine. I wiggle. I moan. I lick my fingers and drift off into a hazy sugary sleep on a cold winter’s night.”

Your kink is not OK.

This guy says so. [Link died and was removed.]

The article is entitled “Fourteen Sexual Fantasies I just Don’t Understand” but when you read it, it’s a condemnation of anyone who does understand the fetishes in question.

Into watersports? You “nasty skank.” Older women? “Not sexy.” Like girls with body hair? “Bad news for you: you’re probably gay.” Foot Fetish? “Not even remotely affiliated with the sexual process.” Like shemales? “Just sick.” Wierd insertions? “Ain’t sexy.” Bestiality? “Not erotic.” “Excessive Bondage”? “Just not nice.” Female domination? Forget it — “It’s the role of the guy to be the dominator.” Cartoons? “Jerking off to a cartoon should be a last resort.” Pregnant women? You “sick fuck.”

Anyone reading the article is probably going to agree with some of these – certainly there are several of these fetishes that would send Bacchus screaming for the next county. But it’s unclear what is to be gained by condemning fetishes you don’t personally find sexy.

What a maroon. And on the evidence, a somewhat sexist and homophobic maroon to boot.

This sort of thing might be able to convince even Bacchus that exercise can be fun.

It gets better. What are they doing, practicing Gorean slave girl postures?

Similar Sex Blogging:

• "Good Training"
• Enforced Sexercise
• Stretching Exercises
• Angel Woods, Naked In The Girl's Gym
• Bondage Yoga In Mexico

What she said!

She quotes loosely from a press release:

“One of our clients is a French doctor and plastic surgeon, who has an amazing new procedure: It involves injecting collagen into the G-spot to increase its surface area, thereby improving the occurrence and intensity of orgasms. It is a very quick and easy procedure that can be carried out at the [blah blah blah] clinic in [blah]. It has been brought over from Paris where it is all the rage. If you would like any other details, please get in touch.”

Now, Bacchus is not equipped with a G-Spot, but his most recent ex emphatically was, and presumably still is. Surface area was more than adequate, howbeit quite remarkably changeable in texture. This suggested “enhancement” sounds every bit as absurd as “enhancing” a pair of firm but deliciously malleable breasts by cutting the nipples mostly off and stuffing vinyl bags of salt water in through the holes until the skin is stretched so tight it begins to deform and…oh, wait. Never mind.

This article [link gone] contains a chilling tale of Google Revenge by (who else?) a scorned woman:

Amanda created an alternate digital identity for her former boyfriend – a personal Web page that would, in all likelihood, be accessed only by those people Googling him by name. On this over-the-top Web page, the guy makes a series of mock confessions that, if taken seriously, would be toxic in any future dating situation. He “admits” to being untrustworthy, jobless, sneaky, a lousy lover, and, finally, a carrier of venereal disease. Hey, Mom, let me tell you a little bit about my new boyfriend.

Confession time. When Bacchus first read this article, it gave him an evil urge to go and do likewise to an arguably-deserving ex. The urge was quickly suppressed, after mere moments of consideration, on purely pragmatic grounds — she could, and would, do unto as done upon, and belike with an evil genius of even higher calibre. Best not to go there.

But Alina promptly leapt for, and attained, the moral high ground:

In the end, we each get what is coming to us in some shape or form– a natural consequence of our good or bad decisions. The most poetic justice is the kind that never shows its hand. So don’t bother. Vengeance sullies the soul of the bearer more than the soul of the intended target. Limit the collateral damage. Call it a day. Thank ex-man/woman for what he/she may have taught you about the world, about human relationships, and more importantly, about yourself.

But wait, don’t grab for your insulin yet! Alina may be high-minded, but she’s still human:

Life, love, and the pursuit of happiness prove far too beautiful and elegaic to be drowned in revenge fantasies. That said, it can never hurt to check the google galaxy for unfortunate slips. Picture me grinning.