A while back I mocked a sex spam missive that began “Has your cum ever dribbled and you wish it had shot out?” I wondered:

Nobody expects very much from spam. But most of it makes at least a certain sort of sense. Bigger penis? Sure, there’s a market. Harder penis? Why not? Breast enlargements? Cheaper mortgages? Debt reduction? Fake Rolex watches? I probably know somebody who wants each of these things.

But an increased ejaculate volume? Who do I know that worries about their inability to make a big enough mess during sex? No, on second thought, don’t tell me.

The comments then were sufficient to suggest to me that this particular sexual anxiety is out there, even though it had never crossed my own mind during the course of a long and anxious life. Now comes Perge Modo addressing the same question with actual sensible suggestions, as opposed to dubious herbal solutions. He offers up the possibility of engaging in temporary and strategic abstinence to build up a metaphorical head of steam, and further suggests prostate manipulation and/or interruption of ejaculation as possible approaches. A flavor of his sophisticated prose:

Have you tried having your prostate manipulated while preparing to shoot? Most guys who want to stick a finger up your butt have no idea what they are looking for. They are as rude as firemen hatcheting their way into a burning house without so much as a pause at the door. (“Hey! It’s not locked, you jerks, just turn the handle.”) Every so often though, you’ll encounter an expert who can find your prostate and apply just the right amount of coaxing pressure to send you into a state of total and subjegated disarmament that will enhance the finale.

I guess that’s further proof (if the spam were not enough) that some guys really do worry about this.

We all know that large books have been published about the effects of marriage on various sexual sensibilities. Here’s a tiny new chapter from The Smitten:

This is, hands down, the hottest picture I have ever taken of my husband and it’s not because I have a thing for Hummer-sized feet:

Shown here is among the greatest things that have happened since we walked off the aisle and into the sunset together. You see, this man right here is scrubbing the bathtub. Our bathtub. Hard. And more importantly, better than I can.

With a title like “Toasted Buns” on a sex blog, you’d expect a spanking picture. But you’d be wrong:

There’s the sort of woman who’s no fun to go camping with (“Honeeee, I need to wash my hair…”) and then then there’s the sort who is.

Via BoingBoing comes this photo of a Texas basketball player (guard Daniel Wilson) who seems to be displaying some of his equipment to the crowd:

The official story is that it’s an “unfortunate optical illusion.” Well, maybe.

Yes!! I’ll tell you a little about it all but you’ll need to follow me…..
I decided that I wasn’t going to stay home and mope on Valentines Day, instead I went to a bar that has decent food. I haven’t been there in awhile and it was fun. One of my neighbors that I used to help before I moved was there. His wife hated it when he went out with the guys so I was surprized to see him there, especially on Valentines Day. They split up. I knew they had problems but I didn’t expect that.

Funny how I noticed how cute he is right after he said that. (Not really, I noticed before, but now it was okay to tell myself how cute he is.) We take turns buying drinks and pretty soon it’s just the two of us sitting at the bar and talking. After a couple rounds he tells me he always thought I was cute in my trashy work clothes but when he saw me at the bar in a dress he didn’t know it was me because I was so pretty. I blushed and put my hand on his knee. Instant. Electricity.

We couldn’t get together for a date until last Saturday. It was nice, real comfy since we already are friends, but we both felt that electricity sparking between us. So we ended up at my apartment…..and I forget who gave into that electricity first, but we ended up in my bed having totally hot sex. Nothing really naughty…..just the quenching of deep thirst.

And wouldn’t you know it, I get no breaks. When he pulls out of me his cock is red. Bright red. It isn’t the usual color a girl expects from down there. He didn’t hurt me at all and there’s no obvious damage on him, so he’s looking at me with a what-the-fuck look and I’m looking at him with a what-the-fuck look.

It was me. I was still bleeding on Monday, so I went to a doctor. She said that it’s nothing to worry about and that things get out of practice, especially as a woman gets older and doesn’t have regular sex (the first time I’ve been called ‘older,’ how much better can this get?).

He’s been totally sweet about it. He’s called every day to check on me, and today he sent me a pink rose with a card saying ‘No more red – please?’ The bleeding has stopped….we both have Sunday off…. I just sent him a white rose with ‘Lather rinse repeat’ on the card.

And I really wouldn’t care if I did repeat it all, he’s been that cool about it.

A wee bit of sexual sanity from Steff:

My lovers have carte blanche to roll over and begin playing with me anytime they want. They know there’s a chance I will say no or push ’em away, but a better chance I’ll say yes, and most importantly, they know I’d never fault ’em for trying. And you shouldn’t either. You should never leave your lover feeling trepidatious about sharing their desire with you. That should go without saying, but fuck, one could write a book about it.

Indeed one could. I’ve known men who dared not try to initiate sex with their wives, for fear that they would be (and this is a quote) “punished”.

Via Bondage Blog comes word of Gucci bondage fashion in the form of a golden shackle attached to a clasp handbag:

I wonder if it comes with a set of matching leg irons and belly chain?