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The Sex Blog Of Record
March 2nd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
I assume this athletic young thing is experiencing one of the highly-engineered beer delivery systems that the youth of today have turned to in favor of the old-fashioned gulping and swallowing that served their elders so well:
Beer or no beer, the effort visible in her face puts me in mind of a speculative sexual performance assessment that was old long before she was born, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and sometimes said things like “That girl could suck a golf ball through fifty feet of garden hose.”
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March 1st, 2007 -- by Bacchus
From a letter to Esquire Magazine, this sound advice:
Never let your wife shave your balls when she has the hiccups.
I’m on board with that.
February 28th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
OK, friends and kinksters, don’t pay any mind to the electric cattle prod. Sure, it’s in the picture, and you can’t put it completely out of your mind, any more than you can ignore the proverbial 800 pound gorilla in your china closet. But, as the man said in Airplane, that’s not important now. No, the picture is for all you dirty feet fetishists out there:
But what are you gonna do? How are you gonna keep a model’s feet clean when you’re shooting bondage porn in a boiler room? Short answer: you’re not.
Picture credit: Chanta’s Bitches (sadly defunct).
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February 28th, 2007 -- by Aphrodite
Aphrodite blogs:
Evil Science Chick ranted the other day about how guys are cum obsessed. Amusing, but I disagree, because I do love swallowing as long as it doesn’t taste awful, and I like having it rubbed into my boobs, etc. It’s one of my favorite fluids and I’m happy to be getting alot more of it these days.
And I guess I’m obsessed too……last weekend I went with J to a friend’s house, and while they were talking buses and ports and firewalls, I got bored, until his friend’s screensaver started. It was the best, sexiest screensaver I have EVER seen! It looked like lots of sperm of different colors, dancing all over the screen, sometimes lining up side by side and other times fusing together in a psychedelic explosion of swirling color. By the time we got out of there I was really horny….J didn’t know why but he sure didn’t complain!
I don’t know whether I should try to find that screensaver to put on my computer or not. I might not get any work done!
February 25th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Here’s Lesson Number 2,239,122 on why being illiterate is both embarrassing and bad for business:
February 23rd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Outside of the hentai realm you don’t see a lot of science fiction pornography, and what you do see is usually hilariously awful. I’m not sure exactly why that is, given all the fun you could have with big hard shiny implacable stainless steel sex robots and lustful tentacle-y aliens and autonomous anal probes and mind control rays and force whips and … oh, wait, am I talking out loud here?
Moving rapidly along.
Anyway, the folks at FuckingMachines.com may not be making science fiction, but they do understand the attraction of cruel implacable hard steel sex robot machinery and the considerable advantages of the indefatigable electric motor. Nor do they shrink from restraining mere human flesh when it might otherwise flinch away from and thus miss out on the intense mechanical pleasures of the machine age. In space, it is said, no one can hear you scream. But why go all the way to space when you can achieve the same effect with a high quality latex vacuum bondage bed?
Princess Leia in chains was cute. Han Solo in carbonite was novel. But this, I submit, would have been a better fate for either one of them, and would have immensely livened up the movie theater of my youth. Besides, wouldn’t old Jabba the Hut have enjoyed the heck out of a implacable robotic tongue-saw?
Science fiction this may not be, but it sure is entertaining!
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February 21st, 2007 -- by Bacchus
In which The Barmaid proves that you do learn useful things as an English major:
When he joins me, I strip him down and do for him what he’s done for me. He’s a little hard to read sometimes, but that’s true of a lot of men – it’s tough for them to ask for what they want, they think it makes them look weak or picky or something. But my ex Peter once told me that when it comes to going down on guys, effort and enthusiasm go a long way even when technique and preferences might be a question-mark. And the way I’ve been treated tonight, I’ve got enthusiasm to spare. He doesn’t last long – not even as long as I did.
We’re lying there a few minutes later, curled up together, my head on his shoulder, when I feel his arm twitch a little and sense a change in his breathing. “No you don’t,” I say, shaking him. “There’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans, and we’re not breaking Chekhov’s Law tonight.”
He laughs. “What?”
“Chekhov’s Law of economy in narrative. If there’s a gun on stage in the first act, it has to be fired by the end of the third act.”
“Fucking English major,” he says, shaking his head.
“That’s right, I’m a fucking English major, and you’re a fucking executive, so don’t fall asleep on me!”
He rolls over on top of me and starts making out with me, and by about ten minutes later, he’s ready to go, and we do.
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