It’s been a while since I’ve posted any gay porn here. But I’d say these menacing fellows definitely qualify:

From Bondage Blog.

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This is like that hoary old story about the girl and the dog and the basement. Only, presumably true. (Because why would Dominatrix Next Door make this up?)

Yesterday a client asked me to smother him with peanut butter.

This was bewildering, but it was not objectionable, either. I gamely put on a pair of gloves, smeared peanut butter on my palms, and clamped them over his mouth.

He squirmed a lot and carried on some vague, muffled roleplay about punishment and begging. “Can’t hear you! No one’s going to help you! You’re just going to have to take it,â€? I declared, refreshing the peanut butter whenever it looked like it was melting down his chin.

He seemed happy. I couldn’t understand what he was on about, but I’m never too worried about a man whose hands are both free to jerk off.

Reprinted here as a reminder. You don’t have to understand a kink to be sanguine about it.

I’m never too worried about anybody whose hands are both free to jerk off.

Thanks to Spanking Blog for the link.

As any man who’s ever washed himself very very thoroughly in the shower can tell you, standard bar soap (I’m talking soap, regular soap, men soap for getting clean, like good old plain anti-bacterial yellow Dial, not the foo-foo stuff that women use that’s full of oat flakes and lavender oil and glycerin and lanolin and gentle moisturizers) can burn a bit if it gets up inside on the tender membranes. So this was a predictable result:

Next, we headed for the shower, which was our original plan. I had to brush my hair before getting in there, and as I studied my reflexion in the mirror, he prodded my ass with his entirely unlubricated, dry finger, which, you imagine, didn’t make it very far. He soaped it up and renewed the activity, and then soaped up his cock and plunged it inside as I bent over the sink. I could see both my pained and his ecstatic expression in the mirror, as he fucked me rough and raw with his soapy member.

It was uncomfortable – much like the way it used to be when we just started doing it – and even though I am quite comfortable with it after a generous application of lube, soap seemed to have gotten absorbed by the tissues or dried out, making it increasingly more uncomfortable with every thrust. I did try to breathe deeply and allow him to have me till the end, which he did.

We got into the shower, and after a few minutes I realized that my insiders WERE ON FIRE – at first I thought it was because of the roughness of the sex, but then I figured it was because of the soap, which is not designed for prolonged application to mucusy membranes. IT BURNED. It burned so much that I began to cry, got out of the shower, and placed myself over the toilet as I poured and poured water on myself in the attempts to alleviate the torture, all while crying the entire time. He got out of the shower too and squatted by my side, looking concerned. “It’s like having soap in your eyes,” I explained (only not quite SO bad). And it wasn’t a good kind, titillating, endorphine-friendly burn, like that produced by ginger. It was just a mean soapy burn, reminding me of Fight Club for some reason.

Thanks to Figging.com for the link.

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The Cerne Abbas Giant — and he is giant!

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It seems she does.

Following up on Rosario Dawson’s sexually suggestive licking gesture, now we have this picture:

(No link credit for this picture, because the celebrity photo blog I found it on was a hellish nightmare of popups, interstitials, flying whack-a-mole flash ads, and other user-hostile crud. Besides, they didn’t say where they got it either.)

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Remember my post arguing that making sure your porn is ethically produced is no harder than doing the same thing for your salad dressing or your cheap manufactured goods? (You’d think this was obvious, but as I documented in that post, some in the rabid anti-porn crowd dispute it.)

Anyway, Evil Porn Werewolf Enslavers Debunked remains one of my favorite pieces on this blog. In support of my argument, I chose some of the scariest Eastern European spanking porn I could find and then did some basic consumer research, quoting spanking model Niki Flynn at length on the professional conditions at a Lupus Pictures porn shoot.

Well, now from Spanking Blog comes a link to spanking model Adele Haze writing on the same topic: Why I Modelled For Lupus Pictures.

This was serious business — you can see her welts here — but she had her reasons:

I don’t process pain as pleasure. I knew my caning would hurt a great deal, possibly more than any of my previous experiences. I did briefly wonder whether, caught up in the moment, I would find pleasure in my real-life flogging in a way I couldn’t enjoy some other girl’s filmed experience — and, pre-empting an upcoming post on the topic, no, I didn’t get any enjoyment out of the pain until it was all over — but, on the whole, I was prepared for a thoroughly uncomfortable several minutes over the famous bench.

And that was OK, because I knew – from studying the films, and from talking to Niki Flynn, who’d gone to that scary place before — that the rest of the shoot would give me the sort of pleasures that would make a few minutes of acute pain worth going through. For somebody who has a separate fetish for artistic suffering, working with a production on the scale of Lupus’s would be worth every stroke.

I had never before worked to a script, and I’d get that. I had never had somebody else think through the costume and make-up for me — I’d get that too, and in the end even the hideous pieces of reformatory wardrobe would turn out charming in their appropriateness. I had never before taken detailed direction, or shot completely — and confusingly — out of sequence, or acted in sets built for the purpose in every small detail; in short, I had never been a part of a spanking shoot run on such a professional level — and I knew that all of these experiences were mine for the taking.

Thanks, Adele, for the eye-opening account!

You’d be surprised at the amount of completely contextless drive-by abuse people try to leave in the ErosBlog comments. I delete these things so you don’t have to see ’em, and that’s why first time commenters go into moderation by default. Normally the garbage comments are just boring, but sometimes they make me laugh. As in the case of this bizarre complaint about this post:

ya dumbasses you cant even see her fuckin face-dueshbags

Ah, sir, perhaps you meant “douchebags”? All three times your attempted comment was thwarted by automatic moderation?

Post title says it all…