You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody come right out and argue for the merits of online porn memberships as Christmas presents before. Sex toys? Sure, every major web publication seems to have a sex toy buying guide. But sex toys are way last week in the gifting universe; getting hard goods in your hands (…um) at this late date is gonna be a neat trick. As Spanking Blog points out, porn memberships are virtual goods that are perfect for last-minute shopping:

All it takes is a credit card and two minutes, and you can write the password and userID on a nice hand-made certificate and put it in a stocking. Instant delivery, no hassle, no muss, no fuss. What’s not to like?

…

What’s more, giving the gift of porn makes a strong statement to your mate that you love them, that you feel secure in their affections, and that you want their erotic fancies to be tickled to the fullest. Of course, giving the gift of spanking porn (especially to a spanker) may also be hazardous to the smoothness of your unspoiled derriere. But what’s life without a little delicious risk?

One more benefit: when choosing a porn site to give as a gift, you get to conduct “research” behind a closed door, and when your spousal equivalent asks what’s going on, you can say in all truthfulness “Just some last minute online Christmas shopping, Honey, give me a minute to hide my windows before you come in here, OK?”

A disabled man writes about his first sexual experience, with a sex surrogate, here. It’s quite a story.

Thanks to Sexoteric for the link.

If you thought Red made playing with a cattle prod sound like fun, you might also like this shoot from the first and best electrosex porn site, Wired Pussy:

No, not literally crapping; this isn’t that sort of website.

Over on Figleaf’s Real Adult Sex, Figleaf posted a long entry about folks who come to blogs where there are nekkid pictures, only to leave strongly derisive comments about the nekkid pictures in question. He likened such folks to trolls, and suggested deleting the body-critical comments plus the standard troll cure: ignoring them.

I posted a long comment over there, which this post mostly duplicates, not because I disagree with the prescription (I don’t) but because I don’t think the nasty body-critical comments are really deliberate trolling behavior. A true troll knows he’s a troll; these guys (and they are always guys) are just bringing to the internet their “normal” obnoxious behavior from daily life.

Here at ErosBlog, I’ve always been ruthless about deleting anything that attempts to drag down my attempt at maintaining a body-positive, sex-positive, kink-friendly editorial tone. For example, awhile back I posted some public nude shots of Kirsten Dunst, and attracted a whole host of folks commenting on how ugly her breasts supposedly are. She’s pretty by any reasonable measure, so what’s up with that? I dunno, but the ugly comments I had to delete far outnumbered the ones that remain.

What I’ve learned running a sex blog is that there are a whole host of guys whose only mode of discourse about bodily appearance is to make a negative comment. I think perhaps it originates in adolescent one-upsmanship; one guy says “Sally’s hot, I’d like to do her” and the other guys all say “No, man, she’s a pig, she’s got a huge ass” as a way of belittling the first guy. However it started, the result is a fairly large class of guys whose reflex response whenever they see an erotic picture is to say something mean and ugly about the body depicted.

It’s clearly an act of emotional aggression, some sort of attempt to establish superiority by expressing contempt for that which other people consider beautiful. An extreme form of this (which I’ve seen in various places on the internet) is the “It’s a tranny” game. The way the “game” is played is to post a picture of an unknown but pretty woman, and then wait until other men admit that the woman shown is lustworthy. Then the trap springs, as the original poster (or others) assert “It’s a tranny!” It doesn’t have to be true; the point is merely to score points by belittling another man’s opinions about sexual attractiveness.

I guess the point of all this is to suggest to other bloggers that they not take it quite so personally. If you post your boobs or butt on your blog and some nasty guy makes a rude comment, it’s possible that he doesn’t hate you specifically and didn’t stop by your blog to cause trouble specifically for you. More likely, he’s just a boorish lout who says “fat ass!” by reflex whenever he sees a pretty butt. It’s not aimed at you at all; it’s male posturing aimed at the other men who are admiring your ass.

Sure, delete his comment, just the way you’d evict a stinky drunk who stumbled into your living room from the street. But don’t take the comments so much to heart, any more than you’d worry about the good opinion of the drunk.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Crapping All Over Beauty, Redux

It seems to me that we’ve seen a lot more candid sex pictures since the invention of digital flash photography. Whatever festival parking lot these folks were caught in, I’ll bet it was dark and seemed private enough, until that brilliant flash went off:

From Usenet.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Public Blowjob, Public Spectacle
• Stadium Blowjob?
• A Real Street Blowjob
• The Blowjob Is Under Control
• Some Things Never Change

This is a pretty challenging bit of sex writing — challenging to read and to appreciate. It’s very vivid and real, but possibly disturbing as well, depending on how you do with potentially degrading master/slave sex. Kaya writes:

I was put under the desk. Getting put under there is just as you imagine it would be. On my hands and knees, ass in the air, in the space where the chair should be. And while Master does His thing online…He’s fucking me. Sometimes brutally, sometimes not. Because He’s not really concentrating on fucking, or cumming, this can last for a really, really long time. He mostly ignores me under there, except to occasionally tell me to stop moving, or to remind me of how I am a cunt, a filthy slut, a dirty bitch…good for little more than a place to dump His cum.

The floor is linoleum and most times I’ll be awarded a pillow to put under my knees. Sometimes, just a towel. Sometimes, nothing…and the fact that my knees are hurting as He rocks me back and forth is appealing to Him. If I can orgasm it’s no concern to Him. He doesn’t care if I do or not, as He reminds me that it’s about His pleasure, not mine. I often try not to orgasm (which isn’t too hard since He isnt trying to make me anyway) as a way to hold on to a tiny bit of myself, control myself, unwilling to give Him the satisfaction. But if He wants me to, if He tries to make me, I can’t stop it. And that pisses me off to no end. All it earns me is some disparaging remark about the “mess” I make on His cock.

It’s very cramped under there (and though I make a conscious effort to clean there, it gets dusty and dirty). If I’m lucky I’ll have already had my hair in a ponytail. Otherwise it’s in my face, being sucked into my mouth and nose, in my eyes, and just generally a pain. My hands go numb from holding myself up, or my elbows get sore if I rest on those. And I am constantly having my head banged into the back of the desk. Purposely. It’s His attempt (I think) at making me press backwards against Him. And it works.

It’s stuffy down there…very little airflow. It’s hot. My pussy dries up and depending on how much it’s hurting Him, He’ll get some lube. Depending on how much He enjoys that it’s hurting me, He won’t. Sometimes He adds nipple clamps, which hurt like fuck when your tits are swinging and swaying, and the time they are on is typically long. If I remind Him they are there, He yanks them off quite cruelly. I’ve learned it’s best to suffer through them, and ask to remove them myself after He cums. He’s in a much more friendly mood after an orgasm.

You’ll feel about that…however you feel about that. To me, the interesting question is how Kaya feels about it:

It’s another one of those “I’ll love it tomorrow” things. And I do. Thinking about it after the fact, makes me twitch and squirm and generally soak my panties. I like being used, I like that He is pleased. I like that He uses me to please Himself, that is my job after all. Sure, I like being used in other, funner (for me), ways to please Him better but that’s not my choice. And I like that I have no choice about it. I’ve yet to be able to talk Him into something else when He swats my ass and points under the desk. And I have tried.

…

The stuff my fantasies are made of. Be careful the things you wish for.

If you’ve ever been around large tropical birds, you’ll know that they behave like a toddler you can’t reason with. They can bring enormous joy and energy and life into a home. But they hear everything and they aren’t shy about sharing what they’ve learned. Especially not Uccello the Macaw:

The cable guy did not look at him so Uccello started squawking. I went over to him to talk and give him attention so he would not interrupt the worker, but Uccello did not want my attention. He wanted the attention of the new guy!

Uccello continued, “Suck me, baby, suck me.” That phrase got the man’s attention. A smile came to his face.

The bird continued through his extensive lexicon of words. Repeating certain phrases that The Biker especially enjoys. I could feel my face turning red as I sat there caught between being embarrassed and wanting to just laugh out loud. “Pretty tits. Woo Hoo. Pretty tits,” he said. I had to cover my breasts with my arms thinking that now the technician would be examining my chest, however his eyes did not leave his work.

“Fuck me hard, (inserting my nickname for The Biker). Do it!” Now I had to bite my lip.

The talking, squawking, acrobatics, and dancing continued, “Harder. Oh yeh!. faster. Oh yeh!” and “I’m so wet. Eat me.” until finally, seemingly exhausted by not getting the attention he deserved Uccello concluded with his new line, “Make me cum. Make me cum!”

Bad, bad bird! But what can you do?

From Biker & Teacher.