So, the other day I was more than a little bit horrified to discover that a fellow pilot in my internet spaceship game was flying a virtual space battleship while driving an automobile somewhere out there among you, the unsuspecting automotive public. This became clear when he spoke on voice coms and we heard traffic noise around him.

I am sorry. I wish he would not do that. We all yelled at him and told him to stop.

He did not stop. In fact, he told us to fuck off.

I thought it could get no worse than that, until I saw this story from ABC, about the woman who got in an accident because she was shaving her (ahem) “bikini area” while driving. Or, if you want to be fussy about it, while sitting in the driver’s seat working the pedals; her ex-husband was actually doing the steering, from the passenger side. So, kind of a joint effort. (That may be a pun — it would not surprise me.)

Did I mention she was heading for a hot date with her boyfriend? Cogitate for a moment on the sexual politics of that.

I know a few ladies who would forgive the handcuffs, the rubber gloves, and the whole failure-to-knock-or-say-hello thing when they saw that erection. But generally speaking, this probably falls into the “unwelcome surprises while showering” category:

From a review at Spanking Blog of a Dofantasy BDSM comic book called Hotel Eden by artist Coax.

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It’s hard to be the pharaoh, but somebody has to do it:

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Tossing it even, you might say, one ingredient at a time: a carrot, a squash, an eggplant, a zuchinni…

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From what looks like a CD or album cover. (Remember those, fellow oldsters?)

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It’s a little bit like shooting fish in a rain barrel to make fun of porn marketing and labeling. In any era, but especially “back in the day”, publishers would take a product, buy some cover art, slap on a sensational title, and it was of no concern to anyone that product, art, or title should match in any respect whatsoever. Which led to high-larious stroke-books like Gang-Banged Captive Bride, the text of which may or may not have included any brides, any bondage, or any gangbangs:

Let’s zoom in on this lurid scene, though, for just a moment. Does it appear that there may be some sort of small-to-mid-sized furry animal stuffed in that man’s underpants, struggling to burst forth at any moment?

Image is from alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. bondage.

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There’s a cliched pickup line dating back at least to the Victorian age. A certain sort of London rakehell might invite a certain sort of “lady” back to his rooms to “view his etchings” — by which he meant his collection of expensive erotic prints, purchased at great cost from a certain importer of printed goods from Paris, if you know what I mean and I think you do, wink wink nudge nudge.

This might have been one such etching:

Jahsonic says the print “depicts Messalina’s famous “Lassata, sed non satiata” scene told in the Satire VI by Juvenal in which Messalina worked in a brothel under the assumed name Lycisca, or ‘The Wolf-Girl’.

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