Since Aphrodite wasn’t here this week to give you your dose of phallus, I can only assume that the folks who come here to see male parts are going away disappointed. I’d like to do what I can, but there’s only so much isolated dick your average straight fellow can bear to look at. Will you settle for buttock?

You’d better settle, because this week it’s buttock or nothing.

The theme is frat boys gone wrong. First we have the stereotypical paddling:

Next up is bare buttock being hauled down the street wrapped in duct tape. If you like your male buttock neatly packaged, here ya go:

Sheesh! The things I do for my readers.

My sister, who’s been married a couple of times without finding much joy in it, has a number of complaints about married life. But her biggest gripe is the way, as she puts it, that “Once you get married, the shit changes! No matter how good all your love shit is, once you marry, the shit just changes.”

I was reminded of this by a comic essay on marriage, which includes this bit of wisdom:

During the first year of togetherness, you probably wondered if you were a bad partner for fantasizing about someone else to get off as your partner slept next to you, but now you’re able to say “I’d hit that” and have a serious conversation about whether or not Penelope Cruz’s accent would spoil sex with her. FYI, my husband and I agreed that we’d make it a bondage thing and ask her if we could duct tape her mouth shut.

Yup, that’s a change, all right.

Here’s a surreal picture for you, from this naked catfighting gallery by Ultimate Surrender:

It’s hard to see much under that mask, but I think she has pretty lips….

…her mother said “Nelly,

there’s more in your belly

than ever went in by your mouth!”

This next link, when clicked, delivers a grainy postage-stamp-sized anal sex video, an extremely explicit one. That’s all the warning you are going to get:

(Link)

Thanks (I think) to Marylu for emailing the link.

:( My computer died yesterday. I don’t know if I can get it fixed or if I’ll need a new one. I’m at the library, so no good pictures for now. I just had a couple of minutes to check in on a couple of favorite blogs (I only get 15 minutes on the computer, oh the horror!), and got so involved in catching up on sex-play negotiations between Brett and Hiromi at Panties panties panties that there’s no time left!

I’ll be back as soon as I can! :crazy:

I’m a bigger fan of online romance than most (it’s how I found The Nymph, after all, or how she found me, if you want to be a stickler for accuracy) but like any other method of finding true love, it has its unique painful pitfalls. The much-spanked Librarygirl acutely summarizes one of them:

X had been having an online/telephone relationship with a man. They were good friends and had known each other for a little over a year.

They both decided that they would meet, and see if they enjoyed playing. She decided that she would fly out to meet him. So she bought her (non-refundable) ticket and they made plans.

A week ago, they traded pictures. He sent her a picture of him, and she decided it was only fair to send him one of her.

And then he dropped off the face of the planet.

Grrrr. Why would a man of goodwill spend a year in online flirtation if he’s holding out for Pamela Anderson? (Or, even: if looks are a controlling variable in his romantic calculus?) I say again, grrrr.

The Twisted Monk is compiling a list of regrettable fucks. Some are familiar (e.g., the pity fuck) but some are new to my lexicon:

Curiosity Fuck: Not really interested in them beyond wondering what color their nipples turn during sex.

Entertaining, but indeed regrettable.