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The Sex Blog Of Record
January 30th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
This being the Monday after the weekend that was and before the shitstorm of a week that’s coming, it seems a good time to mention a new-to-me true fact. Did you know that the original inspiration and concept for our Statue Of Liberty on Ellis Island (true name: Liberty Enlightening The World) was originally designed to represent a colossal Muslim peasant woman standing beside the Suez Canal in Egypt?
Yup, it’s true. But Isma’il Pasha, the Khedive of Egypt, decided to go with a cheaper lighthouse instead. His loss!
Hat tip to Whores Of Yore, whose sources are always impeccable. (Not that the usual “Snopes is a lying leftist” / “reality has a despicable liberal bias” / “Smithsonian obeys to a leftist agenda” crew haven’t blithered into her Twitter feed anyway…)
Image at the top of the post is from an 1892 anti-immigration political cartoon in The Judge.
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January 29th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
If she’s wearing a nurse’s hat, that means this is a totally upright medical procedure no matter how sexy the rest of her outfit is, right?
Art is a detail from this pulp cover. The headline “La Clinica Antichecca” tells me not one damn thing, since none of my machine-translation resources seem to know what antichecca means.
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January 28th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
Kate Lister at Whores Of Yore describes the furor every time she posts a vintage photograph of furry bush:
It is inevitable: whenever I post an image of a woman with a full bush an argument ensues. Interestingly, no one has ever commented on the state of a gentleman’s manscape as long as I have been tweeting them; but, a woman’s knicker whiskers will upset someone every time.
…
[W]hen did we get to the point when our own body hair is alien to us? When did we get to the point when pubic hair is called ‘disgusting’ or ‘gross’? Because this is always the cause of the arguments; someone recoils in horror at the sight of a woman with pubic hair you could wipe your feet on, and voices this online. Having a ‘type’ is one thing, but this voicing usually goes well beyond expressing a personal preference, and marches straight into outright revulsion at the prospect of a lady garden gone to seed.
When did this happen? When did our body hair, hair we have all got, hair that is supposed to be there, elicit the same levels of disgust as a matted hairball bunging up the plughole?
It gets even stranger when you consider that a mere two-foot north of the offending silent beard is another crop of hair that we collectively devote billions of pounds every year to styling. A cursory glance at any hair style magazine reveals adjectives such as ‘glamorous’, ‘sultry’, ‘flowing’ and ‘luxurious’ being used to describe a mop that top and tails another barnet capable of making adults wince. Again, I am not trying to convince you to allow your squirrel to go feral, but I do want to pause on this issue and ask why have we become so anti-fuzz? To the point its regarded as un natural or ‘gross’? Because, that’s where we currently are; our own bodies revolt us, and we shame people for having hair that we have too! So where did all this start?
Fortunately, Kate’s article offers even more answers than questions.
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January 27th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
This is one of those sex-etiquette questions that you wouldn’t ever have thought would ever come up. But now that watching people pee is said to have gone mainstream among the billionaires in charge, it seems important to nail down the proper manners. My concern here is, shouldn’t a gentleman at least remove his damned hat while watching a mostly-naked woman pee?
The art is a detail from this pulp cover.
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January 26th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
I hardly think I’m the only one whose first experience of serious flirtation involved the exchange of those ubiquitous Valentine’s Day candy hearts with the messages printed on them. Ah, elementary school memories!
Well, we’re all adults now. We have private bedrooms, we have credit cards, and we buy sex toys. Which means that we’re free to take candy heart flirtation to a whole new level: naughty candy-heart butt plugs.
Here’s a bit more about the candy heart buttplugs:
Naughty Candy Heart plugs let you get the perfect message across during anal play: Be Mine! Or for that matter: Spank Me or Do Me Now!
With a soft satin finish and a perfectly-angled tip, these butt plugs slide in easily with water-based lube. Washable, flexible, and playful, the Naughty Candy Heart butt plugs aren’t just for Valentine’s Day; they’re for every opportunity that arises.
The plugs are made of the highest quality silicone and are hypoallergenic, nonporous, and boilable. The end of one of these plugs tapers off into a cute, heart-shaped base which allows for easy and comfortable removal and play. The smooth satin finish has a buttery soft touch that becomes slick with lube.
The words are molded into the plugs, so they won’t wear off with time. Super durable hygienic silicone plugs insert up to 3″ and are 1.5″ at the widest, for just the right amount of stimulation.
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January 25th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
I’m still having fun mining The Merry Muses Of Caledonia for short bawdy poems by Robert Burns. There are long ones in there too, but I find them more, ah, impenetrable due to Scots dialect issues. This one offers no such difficulties:
Supper isna Ready
Roseberry to his lady says,
“My hinnie an my succour,
“O shall we dae the thing you ken,
“Or shall we tak oor supper?”
Wi modest face, sae fou o grace,
Replied the bonny lady;
“My noble lord dae as you please,
“But supper is na ready.”
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January 24th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
In this story from Tumblr, “Dale” clearly needs a remedial refresher course about the rule of crazy, and where a wise man does not put his dick in respect to it. But nonetheless, I’d say his problem-solving skills are up to scratch even if his negotiating techniques could use some work:
Things just transpired in my house hold that are equal parts offensive and hilarious. Here goes.
So my roommate, Dale, has a gf who does not live with us, but she’s here all the time. So Sunday when my gf was her we were on the couch and we kissed (scandalous, I know) and she saw it, and I’m pretty sure that’s the first time she’s seen us be affectionate, that’s neither here nor there.
So today she tells Dale she’s “uncomfortable” here and wants him to move out because she thinks me and my lady are going to hit on her or something, she doesn’t like living with lesbians, cause it’s not “normal”, so now I’m pissed. Then, Dale goes, “well you don’t live here, so it shouldn’t be a problem, just stop coming over.” Things escalated and Dale is trying to break up with her, but she won’t leave our house. She locked herself in Dales room.
So, Dale barges in my room wearing a bathrobe and goes, “call every lesbian you know, we’re smoking this bitch out!” Then turns around and whips his robe like a cape.
And that’s the story of how there are 8 lesbians climbing through the window of Dales room…
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