Today I needed to take a long ride on a city bus to retrieve my vehicle from my mechanics. When the bus stopped in front of the local high school just after 8:00 AM, it quickly became clear that scholastics were not a priority on this sunny spring morning, as a horde of teen girls got aboard talking animatedly about their planned day at the mall.

The bus being crowded, we were all pressed in pretty close. The following conversation and events took place about eighteen inches in front of my face:

Girl #1: “Do you want a drink?” (offers 20 ounce Coke bottle)

Girl #2: “Sure!” (takes bottle, opens, stuffs it deep in her mouth so her lips are on the shoulders of the bottle, and begins swigging long and hard, glug glug glug glug.)

Girl #1: “Geeze, Fellatia, don’t get so excited, it’s only a rum and coke!”

Normally I’m unmoved by what passes for witty teen sarcasm, but I thought “Fellatia” was funny.

Here’s an old painting of an even older sort of transaction:

The image comes from here, with the breathless caption: “A 19th century painting crudely depicts the power of wealth and dominion.” Me, I see more dominion in that outstretched palm than I do in the guy with his pecker out.

2013 Update: fixed the broken link and upsized the tiny art that was here.

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Okay, I read through the article explaining the inspiration behind this artwork several times, and I still don’t get it….but the images are nice!

This is a palette for a baby grand (and baby, ain’t it grand! :laugh: ) penis piano, a work in progress by Cynthia Karella. It sounds like it’s supposed to address fear of the penis:

Why do we find such a lack of aesthetic qualities of the penis? The penis’s refusal to submit to conventions of uniformity, this is why a climate of fear surrounds it. Karalla attempts to dissipate the fear we have which is not innate, but one that has been manufactured and put into us, a system of control.

:confused: Penis fear? [Paging Dr. Freud….paging Dr. Freud….] A lack of aesthetic qualities? Doesn’t sound like any of our friends. But, the article is apparently translated from Italian, so it might not be too accurate. From the Baby Grand Piano page, where you can also find more smallish but interesting penis photos.

OK, you knew the sex life of the Moonies had to be a bit eccentric, what with the mass arranged marriages in the stadiums and all. But I had no idea just how eccentric until I read this article from Nerve (link via Spanking Blog, because — I am not making this up — there’s a wedding spanking ritual). There’s an actual handbook for consummating the marriage (years after the wedding) and it’s got some very odd elements:

Two years after our wedding, I gathered our checklist of items for the Three Day Ceremony, the consummation of our marriage:

1) Two Holy Handkerchiefs. These were to wash our bodies prior to intimacy, then to collect the fluids produced by our final union in the ceremony; they were to be kept “eternally.” [Ewww! -ed.]

…

I pulled the pamphlet of instructions out of my bag. We showered separately, never having seen each other naked. After he emerged, I took my turn in the steamy bathroom, then put on my new underwear. Our undergarments had to be new for each day of the ceremony; black satin felt luxurious after the baggy cotton underpants I’d been slouching around in for years. I dressed in my ivory wedding gown, and over that my white holy robe. The sash of my robe was decorated with pink beads, Gabriel’s trim was green.

…

In the first part of the ceremony, the woman had to be on top, symbolizing the restoration of Eve’s act of love with Lucifer. After two minutes of foreplay, I guided him inside me. Instantly, I felt the emotional disconnect. It was the first time I had felt a man inside me for four years, and it felt good, but there was no holy passion, no divine ecstasy. I moved on top of him, concentrated on bringing him to an orgasm, then removed myself and lay next to him. Our ritualistic act of love was over in ten minutes. We wiped the fluids onto our Holy Handkerchiefs.

The official handbook said, “Go to sleep in peace. Sleep in pajamas and nightgown. Do not have a physical relationship outside of the content of the ceremony.” We lay on our backs next to each other, not touching, nor speaking.

Of course when reading accounts like this, it’s good to remember that there’s a long journalistic tradition of writing very loosely about the sexual practices of unpopular or unusual religions. (The technical term for this style of journalism is “making shit up”.) I’m not saying this account isn’t 100% accurate; I’m just saying that, like anything else you read on the internet, some healthy skepticism couldn’t hurt.

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Yes, it’s Man in a Bottle–not just a knee-weakening scent of musk, but a real man, in a bottle. Here, look:

Photo by Daniel Nassoy.

Guys, a word to the wise: if your lady cajoles you into reading her blog, she’s going to want some nice juicy proof- you- were- paying- attention feedback. You’d do well to say something responsive like “My love, I never knew you felt so strongly about the erotic power of warm pasta. Would you like another serving of lasagna?”

If you can do better, do better.

But if you can’t, avoid the pitfall that has devoured Freya’s feller over at Freya’s House Of Dreams. She writes that he

…spent a few hours reading this blog from December to now, interesting discussion ensued, LOL. I asked him if he liked it and he said he did except for the parts about my thoughts and stuff.

She’s laughing now, but you know he’s still gonna pay.

Well. Where do I start? Apparently not with details on why I’ve been dying a slow death from internet withdrawal, since Aunty Violet says that’s a no-no (but it was SO like the end of a dysfunctional sex fling!). It’ll be a few days before I’m back up to full speed on this lovely big machine, so you can stop giving me looks like this:

It’s like he’s saying, “Where the hell you been, girl? I almost gave up on keeping my cock ready for you!” Definitely better than finding the lights on when you get back … :laugh: