…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.

OK, this little flash gimmick is too funny: How To Hypnotize A Man

Via Good Shit.

Porn Publisher Rask can be funny as hell, and today he has a question for his readers:

When I go out, I often wear a leather Harley Davidson cap with a long brim. It keeps the sun out of my eyes and it keeps my hair from blowing into my mouth. And it advertises the fact that I’m a biker and ride a big Harley. When I was at Lowes last week, I found some cute little flashlights with clips on them. Perfect to attach to the brim of my cap. Now I can see in the dark, hands-free. When I wear the cap now, the slave gives me a Look. The vibe I’m getting from her is like, “I can’t sleep with a man who wears flashlights on his head.” Now my question is this: Doesn’t the machismo of wearing a Harley Davidson cap offset the geekiness of wearing flashlights on your head? I need to know, just in case I want to have sex again someday. For now, though, being able to see in the dark is gratifying enough.

A tough call, I’d say….

Random comedian on Comedy Central just now, talking about fidelity:

“I’m a pretty good dog, but if you don’t pet me once in a while, you’re going to have a hard time keeping me under the porch!”