I wasn’t surprised to see James Deen get profiled in The Observer, but I was a little surprised to hear that he’s turning into a bit of a heart-throb / feminine lust object, a “sensitive boy with closed-door swagger — the flip side of a good girl with a dirty mind”:

At 5′ 8″ and 26-years-old, Mr. Deen is slight of build, fresh of face, and looks like that cute boy from your high school Spanish class. A little bro-y, maybe. Sophomoric, definitely. But he has a surprisingly witty Gmail handle and a sly sense of humor. He could be your boyfriend, if your boyfriend knew his way around a ball gag and just when to pull your hair.

Obviously I don’t look at him “that way”, but I’ve definitely noticed that he’s more than just another over-muscled hunk on a porn set. Here he’s demonstrating just when and how to pinch a lady’s nipples:

I liked this quote about rough sex:

“I’ve been into rough sex pretty much my whole sexual life and so I’m not, like, bad at it,” Mr. Deen told me by phone last month, on his 26th birthday. “I don’t know how to say it without being a hideous prick, but I’m pretty good at having rough sex. It got to the point where a lot of girls who aren’t into that type of sex were afraid to work with me because they thought I was going to slap them in the face or something. But I only do that if the girl is into it. There’s no reason to choke somebody if they don’t like getting choked. Then you’re basically being an asshole.”

Image is from here.

Just me, or does the hapless young man on the left look at least as worried as the girls?

From Kinky Delight.

What a terrible time for the Bat Signal to go up! Don’t they know that Batgirl is busy?

From Literate Perversions. Although I feel like I cannot post this without also linking to Susie Bright’s review of Bat Pussy. Bounce, bounce, bounce…

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Well, this announcement is a little bit awkward for a man who doesn’t believe in sluts.

Via the Electrosex Blog we find out that Kink.com’s newest site is an electrosex/electroplay site called Electrosluts. Here we see electroslut Mallory Malone wired up and about to be played like an electric organ. Or maybe like a theremin? Something noisy, anyway:

From this photoshoot.

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From a French sex comic panel I found on Usenet:

This is the single best sentence of writing I’ve seen so far in 2012, in any genre. And heck, it’s not even the whole sentence!

“…these men had the shoes of pamphleteers.”

You’re gonna need some context. It’s from a blog post about Christian landlords getting skeevy about a double bed:

The first flat we viewed was a cheap studio. It was on a private road, in a grand building with stained glass windows. A stained glass face looked back at me in the bathroom, next to the toilet tank, which was over the bath. In the bedroom, there was a single bed.

“Is it possible,” I asked, “to bring my double bed?”

“Where would we put this one?” The landlord spread his hands in helplessness. The tip, I was tempted to suggest.

“I’m afraid it’s a dealbreaker.” I told him.

“You’re not allowed a double bed in a studio,” he said , “it’s illegal. If the environmental health inspector came round…” I managed to get control of my eyebrows before they rose too far, and I nodded, as if to an excited lunatic or toddler. I edged towards the door.

I knew they were Christians, someone had placed Church pamphlets in the hallway, and these men had the shoes of pamphleteers. Single people, I surmised, must be prevented from fornication by any means possible, including the restriction of space. I didn’t bring up the oodles of hot, sweaty, lesbian sex I’ve had in single beds. The conversation got around to my current landlord, and my flat above a church. “Oh! You know Rev. Awfully-Important!” was quickly followed by, “about the bed, I’m sure we can work something out.” Do Christian contacts legitimate sprawling sex, or do they just provide a guarantee that you’re not going to get up to anything naughty?

Thanks, Not An Odalisque!

Vintage gay porn, yeah. But gay cowboys are not the only ones who will enjoy this bondage cowboy on a leash, or I don’t understand modern erotic sensibilities as well as I think I do:

From — you knew it had to be from — BJ’s Gay Porno-Crazed Ramblings.

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