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The Sex Blog Of Record
January 20th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Speaking of fetish fuel as we were, does anybody out there have “a professional homemaker” fetish? OK, maybe a “female ex-convict” fetish? You know you want her!
And now, you can have her, working a stripper pole on her TV show to help promote a stripper-moves exercise class:
Even if you don’t have a specific Martha Stewart fetish, you’ve got to approve of the idea behind the thing. By any calculation I can imagine, every additional woman in America who learns some stripper moves is a net gain for the Gross National Hedonic Product.
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January 19th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
@MollyRen: “Think the email messages you get on dating sites suck? It’s worse if you’re black.”
Not something I’d considered. Despite having practiced a long list of internet follies, I’ve never actually seriously attempted to use a dating site. My impression is that the experience sucks for pretty much everybody. So, mass suckage. Which people wade through the way they wade-through any other necessary-but-unpleasant process (like, say, moving apartments or finding a job).
But just because it sucks for everybody doesn’t mean it can’t suck worse for some than it does for others.
Meet real Kia and fake Kia:
Yes, boys and girls, Kia put up more or less the same profiles, two of them, using her friend Erin’s picture (“Erin. So cute. White.” on one, and her own (“Me. Cute…like a cabbage-patch kid. Black.”) on the other. Hilarity (of the “laugh because it beats punching holes in drywall” variety) ensues.
One man’s assessment — rare for you to see here, because I am a big believer in the “all women are beautiful” school of thought — is that Kia speaks fairly when she uses “cute” to describe both herself and her friend Erin. Neither picture shows a movie-actress Great Beauty, but I’m seeing two friendly-looking people both of whom are squarely in the middle of the bell curve of human attractiveness.
People, it’s rough out there. Try and take care of each other, okay?
January 18th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Bondage Blog has a great piece this morning featuring a pretty girl being shrink wrapped, in a latex balloon. In 1939. By a meat packing company. In the pages of Life magazine, in front of God and everybody and your prissy great-aunt Beatrix.
Granted, treating girls like meat was probably uncontroversial back in 1939. But what fascinates me is the fetish fuel question. In 2010, this is fetish fuel of the highest octane. Bondage Blog rattled off six or seven fetishes it touches on, and I could add several more without a strain. (Lingerie, breath control…) But was it obvious fetish fuel then? Was this a bit of clever marketing by kinky bastards who knew how to get a press release covered by Life, which in turn knew that it could publish the kinkiest shit in front of Aunt Beatrix and everybody just by playing dumb and keeping a straight face?
Or was it, in all innocence, the “gosh-gee-whiz this is how you’ll be getting your beef” celebration of marching technology it presents itself as? Were people really that innocent in 1939? I find that very hard to believe.
Complicating all this is the fact that fetishes evolve over time, and I’m not aware of anybody who has tracked those evolutions in any rigorous way. When did rubber even become a fetish material? (I know it was well established as such by the time John Willie started publishing his Bizarre magazine in the late 1940s.)
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January 17th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
In the comments to the last post, Adele Haze betrayed the direction of her thoughts with the following musing:
I wouldn’t say no to a fairy. :) (As long as he or she were compatible in size, I have to say; Tinkerbell wouldn’t quite do it.)
My mind instantly flashed to the possibilities, helped along in part by memories of some art by the internet-famous Julius Zimmerman. And, although Mr. Zimmerman is too smart to name his wee fairy woman by a name that might unleash the feared attack lawyers at major media companies, he’s drawn some pictures that illustrate sexual possibilities I’m not convinced Adele had thoroughly considered when she made her comment. I had to rummage into some of the darker corners of one of my old USB hard drives, but the quest was successful:
Of course, fairy girls are notoriously mischievous, if not downright naughty. Thus, there’s likely to be the problem of discipline to consider. Adele might start, I imagine, with a spanking:
Another thing fairy girls are — by definition — is flighty. Spankings or no spankings, fairy affections never last very long. And when some man comes along, you just know that an affectionate fairy will have to try him out, compatible in size or not:
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January 16th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
An astonishingly long time ago, back in 2002, I blogged an amusing story about a woman who…well, you really should see for yourself what she did with the jawbreakers.
Her blog was named I, Asshole, and sadly the link went dead at some point after that. “Gloria Monday Goes Bye-Bye” and all that.
So, imagine my surprise when Always Aroused Girl twittered a link to a post about vagina cosmetics, and up popped the very same blog. Eight years later, and the lady’s still putting (what turns out to be) food in her vagina. But this time, it’s for science!
For those of you not yet familiar with the product, My New Pink Button is there for us ladies who feel that their junk needs some pinkening up due to age, hormones, or ethnicity. I have not really thought about the color of my ladyparts, well, ever, and I have probably not done the Our Bodies, Ourselves hand mirror thing since before I had children. I feel that anyone who has an opinion about the color of my junkdrawer can take their disco sticks elsewhere, but I was curious about this product for the sake of SCIENCE.
I considered as an alternate post title “Oh God, it BURNS!”, because when she applies the product according to package directions:
I put the product on and let it sit as the instructions advised. Things were okay for a few seconds, and then…THE BURNING! I have certainly felt worse, but it was very noticeable. The instructions assure me that this burning is “due to the ingredients reacting to your bodies own PH balance which is normal and will go away upon rinsing off the colorant.”
Rinse it off I did, and did I notice a difference? I did not. I will confess to you I took before and after pictures for my own scrutiny. Well hello there my vulva. Long time, no see. Sorry about the burning sensation.
As you might expect, there’s more.
January 15th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
If there were ever going to be a gay bondage porn version of The Biggest Loser, it might look something like this:
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January 14th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
One doesn’t have to look very deep into American pulp fiction to find all manner of lurid mistreatments of American Indian imagery. These steamy details from the back cover of a thirty-five-cent pulp novel (Savage Cavalier) don’t even match the jacket copy, much less, I am sure, the deathless prose inside:
She stood in the firelight, her coppery, moon-breasted body bared to his unbelieving eyes. She was Princess Adiawando of the warring Senecas. He was Lt. Jeff Wyatt, her prisoner. But Wyatt had been spared torture and death — for a night. Spurred by her hot, primitive desires, the Princess had chosen Wyatt as her partner in the weirdest love rite known to history…
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