July 25th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
No man can resist a woman who likes her food this much. It’s such a refreshing change from the “I’ll have the odor-of-lettuce salad” girls:
The dessert menu announced donut holes, and we had ordered them before I could even consider how full I was. They came in a basket, wrapped in a piece of cloth, still warm, made of the lightest dough, with the crispiest exterior coated in the best cinnamon sugar ever. A bowl of strained strawberry sauce was put out to dip them. When I broke one open, I found inside a piece of melted bittersweet chocolate. Melted. Bittersweet. Chocolate.
“I’m going to stick my tongue in it.”
“No,” he taunted me.
“Oh, I will you don’t believe me?”
And I did. And the gooey warm chocolate ran all over my mouth. The warm dough clung to my tongue. The strawberry sauce made me roll my eyes back. I was somewhere else.
When I came to, he was staring at me as if I were a specimen of unquantifiable mystery.
“You think I’m weird, don’t you!”
He smiled.
I flushed with angst, “You think I’m crazy! You think I’m cuckoo. You can’t believe I just jammed my tongue inside a donut hole in a restaurant. You ordered a girlfriend of the non-whackaloon variety and you got stuck with me. You want to trade me in for a sane model. You ”
“I think you’re adorable.”
And so I stuck my tongue back in it again.
From Smitten.
July 23rd, 2004 -- by Bacchus
I don’t usually visit Wonkette, but today I’m glad I did, because I got to see the most evocative asterisk ever:
“Huh-huh, Beavis, he said ASSterisk….”
July 23rd, 2004 -- by Bacchus
From Clean Sheets, which I routinely and stupidly forget to visit, a short fun poem:
R.S.V.P.
By return address
please indicate
— if you could find it in your heart —
your willingness
to participate
in a small drama, in the part
of Helpless Maid
(lightly restrained),
your body lathered with whipped cream,
whilst, with patch on eye,
as Pirate, I
shall lick you quite completely clean.
July 21st, 2004 -- by Bacchus
I missed the fun when Fleshbot launched a counterattack in the War On Pornography. But with that link, I’m doing my best to make up for lost time.
July 20th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
I almost never link to LiveJournal sites, because they aren’t really public internet resources; a random surfer usually doesn’t have commenting privileges, and the service makes it easy to hide certain posts, password them, and play other little “it’s my treehouse and you aren’t invited” kiddie games. And it’s also been my experience that blogs hosted on blog services are much more likely to go *poof* and vanish.
I reluctantly made an exception for Vintage Sex, which was (note the past tense) a wonderful resource for vintage dirty pictures. Alas, the folks who run LiveJournal just made Vintage Sex delete essentially its entire archive and turn the site into a “closed adults community” where new posts will apparently be visible only to select LiveJournal members (“select” meaning “willing to lie about their age”). In other words, Vintage Sex has been gutted, and the steaming carcass has been evicted from the public internet.
The reason? Apparently someone sent LiveJournal an email alleging that teenagers might have viewed the site.
Vintage Sex will be missed. Moral: Anything worth doing on the internet is worth doing at your own domain that you control.
Similar Sex Blogging:
July 19th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Remember Joanne Web, the woman who was arrested and prosecuted earlier this year for selling sex toys in Texas? Well, after keeping her under a prosecutorial cloud for months, the county attorney dropped the charges “to prevent wasting county resources.” Gee, you think?
Thanks to Freedom News for the link.
July 19th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
In the old email, I find this from Hakim (this is the entire missive):
i need a free girl to sleep with
Ya gotta wonder. What kind of free does he have in mind? Are we talking free speech or free beer here?
It’s puzzling. Is he saying that slavegirls just don’t do it for him? Or is he just anxious to explain that he won’t pay, after?
And I won’t even begin to worry about why Hakim saw fit to share this decidedly ambiguous need of his with me.
