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The Sex Blog Of Record
October 23rd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
No, you don’t need to cover your eyes, it’s not as bad as it sounds from the title:
What’s that noise?
Why, it appears to be the ladies (and a select few gentlemen) grabbing their mushroom baskets and rushing out into the forests!
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October 21st, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Remember last month when I wrote about what I called “unusual romantic understandings”?” As I said then:
People … are willing and able to make the most astonishing compromises and bargains (physical, emotional, financial) in order to get the love, affection, validation (and, yes, sex!) that they need.
I was reminded of this by a stellar example from the pages of the New Yorker, in a review of a book about John Stuart Mill:
Mill said that he had always been a feminist, but there isn’t any doubt that the engine of his feminism was his friend, love, collaborator, and eventual wife, Harriet Taylor. They met at her home, in Finsbury, in the summer of 1830, over dinner among liberal friends. Harriet, a year younger than Mill, was married, to a slow-witted, well-meaning pharmacist named John Taylor; they had two children. She was smart and pretty–”a small head, a swan-like throat, and a complexion like a pearl,” the daughter of someone present at the momentous dinner wrote later–and already oppressed by her very unequal marriage. If you see her pictures, and make allowances for the cosmetic conventions of the portraiture of the time, she still looks pretty wonderful: big Natalie Portman eyes and that fine long neck. She and Mill fell for each other quickly….
For the rest of the decade, theirs was a complicated lobster quadrille of love. If the lovers were just a touch less fierce-looking, Mill and Taylor would make as good a Victorian love story as Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett. They were seen everywhere together. Carlyle’s wife, Jane, gossiped that “Mrs. Taylor, tho’ encumbered with a husband and children, has ogled John Mill so successfully that he was desperately in love.” After years of intrigue, the Taylors finally decided on a separation. To test Mill’s love, Harriet went to Paris, and invited him to spend six weeks with her there. The interlude was splendid–but then Harriet, with a rather sweet imperiousness, allowed her husband to come to Paris for his own audition. Harriet ultimately decided–with mingled propriety, uncertainty, and something like flirtatiousness–that they could share her, on an alternating schedule, at the Taylor house, her husband entertaining guests with her on some days, and Mill on others. Taylor paid the bills, while Mill stocked the wine cellar.
October 20th, 2008 -- by Aphrodite
Aphrodite blogs:
Sad but true…..no more worst dressed lists. I think if Mr. Blackwell had seen this show, he would work over the designer and the models. The whole show (as shown in that post) has a “Bride of Frankenstein” air to it. And, what’s this?
That sure looks like a nip slip to me. The full picture shows it a little clearer, plus other features of the dress. Wacky fashion.
October 19th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
One of the nicer perks of publishing a long-running sex blog is that sometimes I get the most amazing stuff in the mail from people who hope I’ll blog about it. This strategy has mixed results at best, because I’m terrible about actually doing product reviews. However, if the swag impresses me enough, I will sometimes write about it.
The latest “blow me away” box of goodies was a HUGE pile of dirty manga (close to thirty titles) from Icarus Publishing. (Their motto: “Keeping the ‘manga is porn’ stereotype alive”.) These turn out to be way better (for an ugly American like me) than the stuff I can download a few random pages at a time from 4chan or Usenet. Icarus Publishing puts out well-printed publications that are nicely translated and (the ones I’ve looked at, anyway) completely uncensored — no pixelations or stupid little black lines. All in all, I found shuffling through these titles to be a premium manga porn viewing experience.
Given the ongoing financial meltdown, the first title I pulled out of the box was something called “The Spirit of Capitalism.” It’s a fitting title in these trying economic times, especially since it features office workers getting fucked:
Icarus Publishing (aka Icarus Comics) has some sample pages from The Spirit of Capitalism online for your viewing pleasure, and a deep web catalog that’s well worth your time.
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October 18th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
There’s a lot of extreme closeup shots to be seen at the gyno/medical fetish site Exclusive Club, but as usual for me, I found myself more entertained by some of the establishing shots. Does the doctor really need such a firm hold on her chin to look at her tonsils? Or is he, like, planning to anoint them?
And I also like this next shot (below), chaste though it is despite the schmear of KY jelly on her butt. I can just hear the doctor booming “We are done, thou well-greased wench! Begone from my exam table!”
(Upon mature reflection, it’s probably just as well I didn’t pursue a medical career.)
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October 17th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
There’s an old folk song out there, sung by the Kingston Trio and many others, that goes a little bit like this:
We came to town to see
that old tattooed lady.
She was a sight to see,
tattooed from head to knee.
My uncle Ned was there.
He came to gape and stare.
“I’ve never!” he declared
“seen such a freak so fair.
And on her jaw
was the Royal Flying Corp
and on her back
was the Union Jack,
now could you ask for more?
All up and down her spine
marched the Queen’s own guards in line
and all around her hips
sailed a fleet of battleships.
And over her left kidney
was a bird’s eye view of Sidney
but what we liked best
was upon her chest:
My little home in Waikiki!
And which point a voice shouts in surprise “What did you say?” And the whole song starts over. You can sing it all day if you like.
If you’ve heard the song, you’ll recognize the mental voice in which I thought “What?” when I saw a mention on Fleshbot of a woman with a ring of writing tattooed around her anus.
“What did he say?”
Also: Ouch.
Apparently the writing does not, as has been suggested elsewhere, say (in Elvish runes or otherwise): “One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.”
Aside: I know a guy who would fall over dead from sheer nerd joy if he had a girlfriend who (a) liked anal and (b) had that tattooed around her rosebud.
Sadly, no; what porn star Adrenalynn actually has tattooed on her asshole is (reportedly) the phrase “Jarrod’s Little Fuckdoll.”
Jarrod is her husband, and I heartily hope the tender sentiment has the same effect on him as the runes would have on your average 19-year-old anal-loving Tolkien fan.
For the curious, there’s a fairly clear view of Adrenalynn’s anal tattoo in the twelfth picture from this gallery. The last ten seconds of the fourth video clip here also gives you several good views, if you’re fast with the pause button. Adrenalynn is pretty cute, so your time won’t be wasted!
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October 15th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I believe this vintage photograph of six naked men may date from the 1930s. I found it on Usenet and it came with a filename suggesting that these were military men getting some R&R:
As I sometimes do when I have an attractive and somewhat unusual image available in fairly high resolution, I cropped and uploaded a couple of versions in sizes suitable for use as Windows wallpaper:
Six Nude Men (800×600)
Six Nude Men (1024×768)
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