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The Sex Blog Of Record
October 12th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
Spanking Blog brings us this vintage entry from the category of “as bad as things seem today, they used to be a lot worse”:
Apparently there was a time when a woman couldn’t even pray without a big creepy man menacing her from behind…
The artist is not known, but if I had to take a wild stab at guessing, I’d go with Thomas Rowlandson. (I am very much hoping this bad guess will stimulate someone to come along and set me right.)
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October 11th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
I found this excellent illustration of the Kinsey Scale floating around on Twitter without attribution. So I did a little research. Turns out the artist is Michael DiMotta, and if you like it, you can buy prints!
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October 10th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
This is most of an “ink and color on silk” hanging scroll painting by Japanese artist Kawanabe Kyôsai (1831 – 1889) that’s in the collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art. It reminds me of this post from a dozen years ago:
I will not bat at my male human’s family jewels while he is engaged in the act of mating with my female human, no matter how tempting the danglies are. My humans get mad and I might get free flying lessons.
In several of the places where this artwork appears on the internet, it’s tagged as “gay” or “homoerotic”. Given that we see nothing of the penetrated figure except feet and legs, I wonder whether this is simply the natural tendency of the taggers to see the scene they wanted to see in an ambiguous work of art, or whether it’s art-historian stuff based on evidence extrinsic to the work?
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October 9th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
Given that mendacious claims about the things men routinely say to each other have recently become central to what passes for political discourse in this country, I am moved to share my highly individual impressions and experiences. The disclaimer here is that I am pushing fifty, I live in red-state heck, and I don’t know many men who are a great deal younger than myself, although I know many who are older. Mine is a small slice of American male life, not any kind of representative sample.
But here’s how man-to-man conversations about women have tended to break down over my lifetime:
- Nothing gets said about women that wouldn’t be said in their presence: a bare majority of conversations, call it 51%-plus.
- Things are said about women that wouldn’t be said in their presence, but not sexual things; examples would be open discussion about how a relationship is going, indirect guy banter that that boils down updating each other on relationship statuses without openly addressing those questions, or whining and commiseration that parses to “bitches be crazy” with varying degrees of affection: maybe 30% of conversations.
- Sexual talk (possibly frank but usually indirect) that is basically about who is getting any, is it any good, and is it “worth” the various costs, be they financial, emotional, or measured in increments of lost personal autonomy: perhaps 10% of conversations.
- “Locker room” type talk about women not present or in view, concerning whether she’s hot, exactly which parts of her are hot, who would like to do what with her, who wouldn’t touch that with your dick: a maximum of 5% of conversations, and that’s stretching it. This 5% of conversations is objectifying but the underlying fantasies being shared are consensual; the often-ludicrous assumption is that the women under discussion would be up for it, and there’s no predatory overtone except to whatever arguable extent that objectification itself is predatory. This is also the first part of the breakdown where the conversations are likely to be initiated by a fairly small subset of one’s male acquaintances; absolutely “not all men” want to have these conversations but it’s fairly normal to play along with the ones who do, especially when they are of higher status or have economic power in your life.
- “Locker room” talk as above, only with explicit rape-culture added, and more often concerning women who are in view but not in earshot. Less “I’d like to fuck her in the ass” and more “I’d like to catch her in a dark alley.” Heavy objectification (“look at those tits walking down the street!”) and often violence (“sure she’ll talk to you, just slap her face to get her attention”) and rape “jokes” (acknowledging and dismissing as irrelevant the certainty that the women mentioned wouldn’t be up for it) feature prominently. This is a tiny percentage of all conversations — 1%, maybe 2% maximum — and when these conversations happen they are invariably initiated by “that guy”, one of the several special kinds of assholes that every man knows. I have also once or twice also encountered cliques of men (in my cases these were workplace cliques in blue-collar workplaces) where really knuckle-dragging sex talk was used to establish and demarcate in-group and out-group boundaries. In a group where two or more men are enthusiastically talking like this a higher-status man will usually change the subject or explicitly tell them to knock it off; if they are the higher status men, others will usually separate themselves from the conversation as soon as practicable.
For calibration purposes, the currently-notorious bus conversation between Donald Trump and Billy Bush falls squarely within the bounds of that 2% of conversations in the fifth category; however it’s among the mildest of such conversations.
I don’t know “all men”; I just know the men that I know. These are my impressions. Make of them what you will.
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October 9th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
I’m sure this must be a very posh private school, because the back stairs where Pandora sits taking naughty selfies for her boyfriend are clean and in good repair:
One small flaw in Pandora’s program: she does not realize the headmaster is watching!
You know where all this is leading:
From Dreams of Spanking.
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October 8th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
A few years ago there was a brief discussion here on ErosBlog about men wearing strap-on dildos so that they could double-penetrate their partners. Here’s a detail from a Hanz Kovacq erotic novel page showing that scheme in operation:
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October 7th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
Writing at WoodRocket, Rain DeGrey has an entertaining anecdote about Nina Hartley’s mad crafting skillz when working on the fly with nothing but the contents of her purse:
A performer, educator, activist and all around delightful person, Nina has been kicking ass and taking names for long enough to qualify for OG status in the industry.
I had heard of her long before I finally met her in person, but we didn’t actually meet in the flesh until the day she had to make me a pair of pasties to prevent the police from closing us down.
We were both performers at a fundraising event in San Francisco that made the unfortunate call of having both alcohol and uncovered nipples at the same time, which is a bit of a no-no without proper permits. Permit-scorning rebels that the organizers were, nobody thought that the fundraiser would be big enough to attract any attention of the authorities. We were wrong. Hundreds of people ended up showing up and the place was packed to the rafters. Mid-event, the police raided the place and gave us the option of either covering up all the wayward nipples or closing down the fundraiser.
Option “cover the nipple” was selected and there was a hurried rush to make multiple pasties for all those poking out pink bits that are so dangerous when near the booze. I happened to be standing near Nina when the raid went down and she was so unruffled as to be blasé.
“Not a problem,” she said with a smile, “we used to have to make pasties on the fly all the time when I was dancing.” With a deft movement, she extracted a can of hairspray, some black electrical tape and some scissors from her purse. Flipping the can upside down, she covered the bottom of it with strips of the electrical tape, trimmed down the tape strips in the shape of a circle using the hairspray can as a guide, and handed me a set of nipple pasties in under a minute. She was like the MacGyver of sexy times and I was really curious what else she was carrying in that purse…
And if that’s not enough, there’s a bonus photo at the link of Rain wearing panda-onesie pajamas.
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