December 28th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Breakfast In Bed
“Hello? Front Desk? I’m just calling to compliment your room service staff. This morning’s breakfast toast was served just the way I like it!“
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The Sex Blog Of Record
December 27th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Happy Snail Girl
How do you tickle a snail-girl out of her shell? Like this:
This is The Ticklish Snail by Leo Putz, circa 1914. Via Kinky Delight.
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December 27th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Posts About Lingerie
Chelsea Summers, whose blogging has grown sporadic in recent years, remains worth waiting for. Here’s a pair of recent posts about the power of fancy and expensive lingerie:
Since that Friday in September, I have not stopped shopping for lingerie. I am breathy with the magic of it. It’s a giddy, girly contrivance, these dreamy imaginings of silk, nylon and lace. I have spent altogether too much money on these matching whispery sets (and I’ve way too many in shades of crimson, scarlet, cerise and bubblegum pink). But I love them, love them for their precious glow, their caress under the globes of my breasts, the way they hug my hips. I love them for the potential of showing them to others, lovers or no. I love them for their erotic promise to myself.
Make no mistake: there is great power in the wearing of good unmentionables. I defy any woman (regardless of how she comes by her womanhood) to put on a perfectly fitting bra and matching panties and not feel girded for battle. Lingerie may look like sweet nothings–and the best lingerie does–but if it fits right, it acts like internal Kevlar.
These days, I know what I want: caressing unmentionables, intriguing men, luxurious sex, sparkly conversation, the comingling of the previous, and the quiet satisfaction of the door shutting when it’s over. I don’t know where I’m going with this juggling fine experimental phase, this sexual walkabout. I don’t know that it matters. I do know it’s not settling and that it fits me, exquisitely.
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December 26th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
My Snowball Angel
December 24th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
James Joyce: “Fuck Me”
In looking again at the literary sextings of James Joyce, I noticed the admirable level of detail in the little fantasy that he spins out about a furtive assignation in a dark stairway:
Fuck me, darling, in as many ways as your lusts will suggest. Fuck me dressed in your full outdoor costume with your hat and veil on, your face flushed with the cold and wind and rain and your boots muddy… Fuck me on the stairs in the dark, like a nursery-made fucking her soldier, unbuttoning his trousers gently and slipping her hand in his fly and fiddling with his shirt and feeling it getting wet and then pulling it gently up and fiddling with his two bursting balls and at last pulling out boldly the mickey she loves to handle and frigging it for him softly, murmuring into his ear dirty words and dirty stories that other girls told her and dirty things she said, and all the time pissing her drawers with pleasure and letting off soft warm quiet little farts behind until her own girlish cockey is as stiff as his and suddenly sticking him up in her and riding him.
From the Selected Letters Of James Joyce.
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December 20th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Buttsex With Paula Deen
An hilarious autocorrect:
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December 20th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Those Oversexed Dwarves
Ever since Disney released Snow White in 1937, people have been drawing parodic porn to show what she and the dwarves really got up to when nobody was looking:
This contemporary example is detail from a jokey 1938 holiday card in Spanish.
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