No, no, it’s not quite what you think. It’s just, MonMouth got accused of being a prude, all evidence to the contrary:

“Spread,” I said to Coco, sitting on a bench in a busy public park. She was wearing a tantalizingly short skirt, no knickers, and I knew that her pussy would still be throbbing from the hard fuck that started our day.

Slightly startled, she didn’t uncross her legs immediately. I could see that the idea appealed to her, but she needed another prod – needed me to tell her to do it. For her, the joy of being told is half the pleasure of indulgence.

Coco spread her legs and looked around to see if anyone noticed what we were up to. Phone in hand, camera on, I reached in between her muscular thighs and the mechanical eye made a satisfying synthesized click.

It’s amazing the pictures that roam around on the internets. It turns out making things out of balloons can be more entertaining that we ever imagined:

The long awaited conversion to WordPress has finally happened. There are still a ton of little things to be fixed, and given that some of the old posts and comments have been migrated multiple times, you’ll find more oddness the deeper you get into the archives. Time codes on comments in particular got FUBARed, so there are many comment threads where the comments are no longer in order.

Have patience, things will get fixed over time, and meanwhile, there are nifty new features to enjoy. And of course the comments are back on! Please be aware that all comments by first-time commenters will be held in moderation until I can approve them.

I’m entertained by the juxtaposition in this image of a classic-but-crass pussy-in-your-face porn pose with the “classy” touch of the gloves and shoes. Of course this image (from alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. vintage) is from the era when people like your mother wore spike heels like that:

Lots of yummy female perspective on the sensation of deep throating, from Pretty Dumb Things:

The art of deep-throating lies in two things: creating enough high-quality viscous porn-starry spit, and relaxing your throat to accommodating proportions. Both take time. The gag reflex is my friend, I know, and so I court it with a wily coquettishness. I take the dick in as far as it just uncomfortably will go, and I wait, holding my breath, until I find my throat begin to relax and until I need to breathe. Then I’ll slide my mouth to the tip, do a little do-si-do with my tongue at the end, and slide back up until I just barely begin to gag and hold again, swallowing the tip.

At these moments what I feel is a mixture of challenge and trust and pride. I trust the man not to thrust and fuck up my prep time. I challenge myself to see how much I can put in my throat, how long I can hold it, how easily I can get ready. And I feel pride in a blowjob well begun. When a guy does thrust and fuck my face before I have properly lubed my throat, it hurts. It feels a lot like when you swallow very hot soup or too big a piece of lamb shank. It sometimes makes me gag a bit, and other times it makes me gag a lot.

After a few minutes of warm up, I can feel my throat begin to relax. Usually then I find an angle that will work for sustained deep-throat with this particular cock — and all are different. Sometimes I like to control the blowjob, and sometimes I like to be face-fucked. And other times, like when I’m tied up, I don’t really have a choice but enjoy being face-fucked. In all cases, finding a comfy spatial relationship is key. Bad angles make for bad fellatio– it’s simple human geometry,

When I’m in control, I feel like I’m choreographing an elaborate underwater ballet with my mouth, my hands, and the dick at hand and mouth. The slurpy noises, the imagined visual, the occasional eye contact, the hushed bated breath, the timely exhale, the fingers sliding the mix of saliva and pre-cum, the cock that pauses, filling my mouth and my throat, my throat fluttering little swallows around its tip. I love the feel of having my mouth full. If I’m really into it, it makes me wish that the guy had two or three other dicks to fill me with simultaneously. This strange feral compulsion washes over me and I wish I could take him into me everywhere all at once, even as I’m trying to keep my head while I’m giving head.

When I’m being face-fucked, however, the sense of control is lost and in its place comes a wild ride. When face-fucked, I feel like I have to keep a delicate balance between my breathing, my relaxed throat, and this relentless pneumatic cock that is drilling my mouth. Much of my experience then is completely wrapped up in my submitting to the moment, of finding my slender balance in this overwhelming crash of sensation. It, too, is pleasurable, though rhythm is important, for if the man isn’t aware of what he’s doing, he can make me gag, and then I have to fight to control that urge, to will it to stop and to find my calm center in his pheromone storm. My throat is almost always sore the day after a rigorous face-fucking.

I’m on record as thinking that colorblindness, even willful colorblindness, is a good thing, and as being baffled by people who want to sort their porn by the race of the performers. So you can imagine my distaste upon seeing Audacia Ray — a smart political sort with whom I’m often in agreement on matters of porn — characterize my commitment to colorblindness as a sort of liberal ignorance.

Hint: It’s not “ignorance” to reject racial classifications as a basis for your worldview, and it’s certainly not liberal in a world where affirmative action is an icon of liberal political correctness. If you can’t see a person without having a racial classification for them pop into your head, you’re part of the problem. Worse yet, every time anybody slaps racial tags or identifiers on anybody else, this whole sordid business of “race” is reinforced and strengthened. I don’t refuse to participate in that out of ignorance, I refuse to participate in it because I’m adamantly convinced it’s a bad business.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Nude Women, Skin Color, Huh?
• The Blowjob Curse

Hey, folks, if you like to read Susie Bright’s blog (and why wouldn’t you?) you’ll know she publishes interviews with various people (mostly writers) from time to time. I’m proud to say (since I’ve been a big fan of Susie’s for a long time) that she recently interviewed me, and put the interview up today:

The Buccaneer of Bacchanalia

Highlights include how I choose which dirty pictures to publish, a bit of the politics I don’t usually mention here, my youthful sexual influences, and why porn sites on the internet are better than they used to be.