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August 2nd, 2018 -- by Bacchus

Good Liquor, Dubious Men, And Unlucky Cards

I’m not sure if this vintage art photo postcard by Irina Ionesco is intended to suggest a woman on her death bed, but something about the scattered playing cards and the transparent shroud speak to me of a lifetime of utterly unrepentant hedonism:

nude reclining under a transparent shroud surrounded by playing cards

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August 1st, 2018 -- by Bacchus

We All Dreamed Of Jeannie Like This (Topless)

Nobody who ever dreamed of Jeannie during their formative years — by which I mean, nobody who ever wanked furiously to the notion of a dream-girl in a bottle who said “Yes master” and had to do whatever she was told — ever failed to imagine Jeannie wearing a whole lot less clothing. Here’s an artist reckoning of those adolescent fantasies from no less reknowned a publication than the very first issue (August 1976) of High Society magazine:

topless genie from I dream of jeannie

Art is signed “A. Sawyer 1976”.

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July 30th, 2018 -- by Bacchus

She Loves Her Plushie Panda

Plush stuffed-animal fetish, anyone? Girls who love their big beds full of stuffed animals? It’s all been around for awhile, youngsters:

nude woman kissing her stuffed panda bear

Artwork is from the cover of Panda Bear Passion (PEC 1968).

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July 29th, 2018 -- by Bacchus

Hand Me Some Crisco

As I’ve noted before, kids these days (by which I mean, anybody who came of their sexual maturity post-AIDS-crisis) often don’t understand the properly-filthy connotations of a good wad of Crisco:

scooping out some crisco

From BJ’s Gay Porno-Crazed Ramblings.

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July 28th, 2018 -- by Bacchus

Share Our Shit Saturday 18 #SoSS

share our shit banner

I’ll confess to not being as regular about Sharing Our Shit on Saturday as I would like to be, but here I am today on this particular Saturday with some excellent shit to share:

  1. That industrious patron of the arts and my good friend Dr. Faustus has been busy since the last time I shared his publications and productions. Recent output includes editions of his comic Bubbles in Hebrew (עברית), Vietnamese (Tiếng Việt), and Bengali (বাংলা). The third chapter is now available in The Adventures of Ashley Madder, and there has been a substantial revision/addition to the comic Bait, announced here. Four new pieces of commissioned art supplementary to Bait (or pendant to it, if you prefer the word that Dr. Faustus uses) have also been published: here and here and here and here. And finally, all the Bait goodies have a permanent secure home at the Internet Archive now. I swear I don’t know how Faustus does it!
  2. The Rialto Report continues its ambitious project of making high-quality scans of porn magazines from forty years ago. This time it’s a visit to 1980 with the issues from that year of Cinema-X Review and Adam Film World.
  3. Ten Things I’ve Learned From 10 Years Of Sex — a really smart bit of writing from Kate Sloan at Girly Juice. I sure as shit didn’t learn that much in my first ten years of having sex, and in a lot more than ten years I never learned to write paragraphs so nice and tight.
  4. I appreciate a good obsession as well as the next person, so I am in awe of this post at Vanilla Spanking that explores at 3,500-word length (plus extensive visual material) the question of whether there was ever a Tarzan movie in which Jane gets a spanking. One word answer: no. But every near-spanking and situation in which Tarzan threatens to spank somebody is lovingly detailed, and the one funny-papers comic-strip panel in which Tarzan does spank an abusive lady big game hunter is presented in both its as-originally-published and later-reprint spanking-censored-out versions. Obsessions, man, long may they wave!

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July 27th, 2018 -- by Bacchus

On A Bed Of Cash

This image isn’t titled “Fuck You, Pay Us” but that’s the first thought that crossed my mind when I saw it:

two women shrinking away from a lecherous man against a background of money

From an Italian pulp via Kinky Delight.

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July 26th, 2018 -- by Bacchus

Dream Of A Bachelor-Party Pussy-Eating Class

I wanted to read this article by sex educator and burlesque performer Fancy Feast about her time working in sex toy sales because she billed it on social media as “a rant about sex positivity under capitalism” which is at least a little bit in the ErosBlog wheelhouse. It’s a good and wide-ranging article, too; you should go read it. I’m not even going to attempt to summarize, characterize, bloviate, or respond.

I do, however, want to highlight one paragraph of imagery that holed me below the waterline. We may think that we’ve come a long way in terms of gender equality, but socially? Naw. She’s talking about a point in her career where she was head of educational programming for the sex-positive sex toy store she worked for, mostly selling blow job workshops. But even though people would ask for cunnilingus workshops, they couldn’t sell enough tickets for the classes to make. She explains that most of the classes for the blowjob workshops were women who had been somehow convinced they need BJ skills to get and keep a man. Then she points out that women also worry about the oral sex they receive. But do men worry about giving it? It’s not a question she tries to answer per se, but what she does say is telling:

I try to imagine a bachelor party coming into the store for a celebratory cunnilingus event, the groom-to-be adorned in a crown of stylized, glittery cunts. Each man gingerly entering the room, wrapping a hand around a complimentary craft beer for the comfort of a familiar object. Each of them nervous that there is some secret out there to pussy eating that the other men aren’t telling, each of them worried that their girlfriends and wives or Tinder dates will leave them for someone who sucks clit better. I imagine each participant – the groom’s brother, his fiancé’s best guy friend, his cousins – adorned with vulva necklaces, sucking on ripe peaches and juicy mangoes, sitting on foldout chairs in a room of men, howling with laughter and cheering each other on as they practice tongue techniques. Thinking about this makes my heart ache.

Yeah. That’s like, so not happening. By which I mean, of course, that in my calcified imagination I can’t see it happening in what remains of my lifetime. Although it’s also true that we live in an age of wonders, and I am astonished every day…

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