I’m not often jealous of a bicycle seat, but in this case I’d consider making an exception:

Or maybe I’m just turning into a panchira freak….

A feller by the name of DangerSpouse wrote this hugely long comic essay on his wife’s bout with whooping cough (and other family tribulations). This man could retell the Book of Job and make it funny. Of particular interest to sex blog readers is this bit:

Back on the homefront, NewWifey(tm) was feeling better by her second day on meds. I know she was feeling better because even though she was still coughing with almost every single breath, when I walked in the door her first words to me were “Let’s fuck!”

Now, I had been spending my nights since her arrival on a futon in the room farthest from her bedroom, in an attempt to insulate myself from her WMD breath.

But…

“OK!”

Needless to say, with NewWifey(tm) coughing explosively every 4 or 5 seconds, one of her three orifices was effectively off limits unless I wanted to be blown up like a balloon through a very short valve. So that left two gaping Survivor finalists.

Decisions, decisions….

It finally came down to Face Time. As in, I didn’t want any.

So, “Bite the Pillow” it was.

AND IT WAS GREAT!

Here, let me show you:

Jam your thumb up your butt, and then cough. Hard. Repeatedly.

IS THAT AWESOME, OR WHAT?

Of course, I wasn’t using my thumb. Or own butt. Which made it EVEN BETTER.

(You were. So that makes you gay.)

Lemme tell you, the next three or four days were some of the happiest of my life.

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This detail from the Japanese manga The Red Flower That Blooms Wetly has got to be the single most gratuitously pointless example of symbolic censorship ever seen. I guess the narrow diagonal white line “conceals” the very tip of the cartoon clitoris, but the rest of the image is so revealing it’s very hard to see what the concealment accomplishes. A bizarre artifact of the Japanese legal system, we must presume:

Image via J-List.

Oh fuck, it feels so good having my lips wrapped around you. Your taste… your smell… It’s been too long since I’ve had your beautiful cock hot, hard and pulsing in my mouth. I moan because this feel so fucking good and the vibration against your cock has your fists pressing down hard against my scalp.

“Mm, you like that?”

“Yes.”

Your voice is a strained whisper and God, that excites me.

More available at Salacious Desires. I’d love to be doing this tonight…..any night.

So, there might be a genetic basis that influences women’s orgasmic propensities. And check out the hot picture that accompanied that story in the Chinese tabloid Xinhua!

For some reason this vintage sex picture reminds me of those old cartoons that showed hungry characters sitting expectantly at the dinner table with a knife in one fist and a fork in the other. Dinnertime!

From Usenet.

Functional Ambivalent has posted a long (and perhaps even rambling) article on MILF sexuality. Two excerpts:

The final class of older women did not have, in my youth, a designation. They were there, but we didn’t acknowledge them. They were attractive, secure, and carried with them irrefutable evidence of sexual activity: They had children.

And:

Sometimes, every couple of months when I’m bored with golf and feeling romantic, I tell my wife that she is becoming the older woman I’ve always fantasized about. I intend this as a compliment, but have scar tissue to prove that it is not always received that way. I get my voice all gooey and low and say honey, you’re becoming the older woman I’ve always dreamed of…and then I slink out to do yard work and sleep in the garden shed.

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