Those damned lawyers mess up everything:

MBABANE, Swaziland – For centuries in this tiny African nation, the king of Swaziland, the supreme political leader and spiritual guide of the Swazi people, has taken his pick of young women each year to be his new wife.
…
The royal marriage practices are as old as the steep green mountains that ring this secluded country of sugar cane fields and cow pastures. Each year, the king has been allowed to choose one or more wives from thousands of young women who, naked from the waist up, parade before him during an annual springtime reed dance.

But now there is trouble in paradise. The king has chosen, the maid in question allegedly says “I’m going to make him the happiest man on Earth” — but she’s a year too young and her mom is pissed.

The king will be violating his own ban on sexual relations with female subjects younger than 19 if he marries Mahlangu. But it may not matter. When Mswati married another 18-year-old this year, he fined himself one cow for the violation – a small price for a monarch with hundreds of cattle to his name.

Oh yes, and speaking of the Group Captain, he is inviting all of the loveliest ladies in blogdom to, and I am not making this up, “cantabulate” his “gruntfuttocks”.

Now, Bacchus is not sure, but he suspects this is an invitation to participate in some odd variation of the infamous “English Vice.”

Or perhaps not. At any rate, it sounds very much like something that warrants this mention on a sex blog.

Shocking Shell leads us on with news of a lovely secret. Then, in abject refusal to conform to stereotypes of feminine illogic, she declines to share it with us.

The Group Captain comments at Shell’s blog, and accuses her of teasing. I think he’s right.

She’ll talk, though. Because we have just the thing for, ah, encouraging her:

Imagine, readers, the sound of booming villainous laughter as we set this evil bondage tickling scheme in motion!

Those rough boys at The Exile explain just one of the many inventive ways sex is marketed in Russia:

First, I’ll explain how it was that I ended up with the hottest teenage provincial model at the playground of a mega-rich friend of Moe’s. There’s a simple explanation. We still owed the modeling pimp — Alla’s boss, Slava, the guy who brought her out from Belgorod along with about 25 other models from various depressed provincial towns — a couple thousand more dollars. That was part of the deal. If any of the revelers succeeded in “seducing” the models, Alla’s boss got a 100% bonus. Which meant, of course, that the models would be given a handy beating and blackballing back to their shitty provincial towns if they didn’t allow one of Snideman’s invitees to “seduce” them. Slava wanted his bonus. He kept all the money for himself. He barely paid the models, shipping them in and out of Moscow on third class platzkart, feeding them little more than soup.

Ah, Rossiya. Bacchus has visited…

The same article later brings up an eternal mystery:

Why, why, why do women under the age of 30 cut their hair short? Why? Has any woman, ever, in the history of mankind, ever looked better with short hair? Huh? Has any man ever said to a young woman with beautiful long hair, “You know honey, I really wish you’d look like my mother after she underwent intensive chemotherapy for ovarian cancer I have a hospice fetish that I can’t quench. So why don’t you go and cut all your hair off. Please, oh pretty please?! I really want to fuck a cancer patient!”

An answer is provided.

Mexican porn comics? Who knew? Nobody tells us Norteamericanos the stuff we need to know. Until now:

Pocket-sized comic books called historietas have been available for decades on every corner newsstand, but in the past seven years they have been overrun by a fresh and lurid genre that’s part noir melodrama, part Tijuana bible–what Mexico City writer Alex Giardino dubs the “ghetto libretto.”

These nasty funnies are less graphic than their Japanese counterparts but make up in operatic depravity what they lack in plumbing. Page through Heat Between Her Legs, Secret Temptations, or Carnal Sins, at the Las Americas supermarket on East Lake Street, and you’ll find every variant of anguish on the characters’ faces. My favorite artist, who signs his name Galvez and inks boldly with crude strokes, tells sweaty tales of poor women who endure class browbeating, male predation, incest, and long nights of hot, guilty sex–all before hacking their tormentors to pieces.

This story is a few months old, but it’s about something that’s been buried for a couple of thousand years, so what’s the hurry? It seems that a trove of ancient Chinese bronze dildos was discovered. Speculation as to their use seems, ah, imaginative:

Archaeologists in China have uncovered seven ancient bronze dildos in a Han Dynasty tomb.

This is the first time so many have been unearthed from that era (206 BC – AD 25).

The dildos were cast from a mould, suggesting they were made by a specialist artisan.

Archaeologists say the dildos uncovered in Xian could have been used by eunuchs.

They also say palace maids may have used them on sexually-deprived imperial concubines.

They expect to find more dildoes in the city in north-western Shaanxi province.

If China today is anything like as sexually repressed as European communist countries typically were, I guess this sort of fevered speculation is as close as the archaeologists can get to actual porn. I wonder if psuedointellectual cheap little treatises like “Some Suppositions on the Usages of Bronze Dildos During the Han Dynasty, with 17 Fully Engraved Plates” are sold as pornography in China, the way “Medical Sex Manuals” were sold in the US and Britain back when porn was still a felony?