Summertime, just sittin’ on the beach minding her own business, and suddenly she has to know: “Hey, what’s this in my panties?”

From Usenet.

If I used this for a quickie, I think I’d be yelling, “OUCHIE!”

Do companies just not proofread their packaging anymore?

From Bondage Blog comes a reminder of the timeless wisdom, that on the internet, people are not always what they seem. Verbum sapienti satis est!

It has been, by all reports, hot in New York City this summer. Or as Chelsea Girl puts it:

Step outside and it feels as if you’ve entered a hot, wet oven. You’re the pat of butter on the baked potato that is Gotham. It’s hot, hot, hot heat, wet and hot, and it cleaves to you, sweat-pressing your skin and enervating you with its doughy-moist succubus embrace.

You need to go somewhere the sun don’t shine. You need to find your place in the shade. You need to embrace your inner arctic. You need to stick an ice cube up your ass.

Yes, of course. My very first thought. Only, somehow, not.

Anyway, being a woman, she has to do it in the bathtub.

Which means she has to clean the tub first. Foreplay, I guess.

Nine paragraphs later (!) she gets to the good part:

You take a cube, you rest it against your asshole and you feel the immediate pucker of the asskiss, that quick inward convulsion, that wrinkle-crinkle in and up. And then with a deep breath, surely, remorselessly, unmercifully you use your index and middle fingers to push the ice cube into your ass.

The shock of the ice. Silver sliver ice-nine-esque core radiating. Like the plunge into a mountain stream from the inside. A swift round shot of pleasure/pain/pleasure.

Your breath inhales ragged-like. You imagine it’s not unlike the sensation of crack, only pure body.

It’s a very suggestively shaped bollard, I agree. And the Russian is tantalizing: “Here you may…” with a verb I don’t remember from my college classes, one that the online translators won’t translate. But really, I just like the photo:

From Urod.ru.

I’ve heard of a lot of things, but I’ve never heard of having sex under the bed before:

Some of the better moments were when we were trapped in confined spaces. Brendan has a little bit of an attraction to claustrophobic locations and couplings whether that means having sex under the bed, which we did, or light contortion and bondage, which we also did, there’s something about having a woman cornered that excites him.

As we were in the closet, he angled me so that I was tightly wedged in the corner with my legs wrapped around him. When he thrust, he did so forcefully, trying to get me even further into the small space afforded by the corner and the sound of various parts of me smacking against the walls made him extremely excited.

As for the under the bed sex, it too was interesting. He had me get under the bed, which was remarkably clean, with my entire torso and head obscured and my hips and legs sticking out from under. He proceeded to both go down on me and then turn me onto my stomach so he could fuck me from behind. I’ll admit, there was something a little exciting about that for me as well. I could only imagine what it would look like to a third person: this disembodied set of legs and hips sticking out from under a bed being manipulated by a fully visible second party.

From Postmodern Courtesan.

It’s Sunday morning in America — what better time for a tasteful bit of sodomy?

In the style of all those Kama Sutra paintings from India, though its actual provenance is unknown to me.

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