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The Sex Blog Of Record
Wednesday, June 12th, 2024 -- by Bacchus
You know what they say: friends don’t let friends endure anal frustration.
No, wait: I’m being informed that nobody actually does say that. Well, if not, they totally should!
Photos are from Bestie Butt-Stuffing at Kink.com.
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Wednesday, January 3rd, 2024 -- by Bacchus
It’s no crime to want your lovers to be sexually ambitious and comfortable with one another. But as always, it may be wise to be careful what you wish for:
Artwork is by Ferres, via Kinky Delight, and comes from a Dofantasy comic.
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Monday, January 1st, 2024 -- by Bacchus
People on social media have been losing their minds yesterday and today over the fact that the first Mickey Mouse cartoon Steamboat Willie has finally fallen out of copyright and entered the public domain. Dirty minds keep asking “when do we get the Steamboat Willie porn?” Which is a perfectly reasonable question, only I know my Rule 34 better than that. So I spent the last 24 hours delighting and amusing (which is to say, torturing) these social media questioners with this raunchy manga image:
The artist is said to be hentaib2319.
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Wednesday, October 18th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Let’s get the Halloween season going, shall we? This might be the spookiest (and yet most attractive) jack-o-lantern you’ll see in 2023:
This little pumpkin-booty clip is circulating at maximum viral speed right now, and I don’t have an origin. But I’ll bet it’s a hard-working cams performer, and if I find out which one, I’ll strive to provide an appropriate link credit.
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Friday, July 28th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Much as it pains me to label porn from the 1980s as “vintage”, this black-and-white anal closeup from the April 1983 issue of Sexus magazine surely qualifies:
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Friday, April 14th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Have you ever heard the phrase “spoiled for choice” as a figure of speech? As in “I’m spoiled for choice here, I don’t know which of these pretty holes to plunder first.” Allow me to introduce a man who, having faced up to just such a quandary, has made his difficult choice and has no regrets:
Photo is from this shoot at Kink Prime.
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Tuesday, February 14th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
Among the many joys of the Valentine’s Day holiday is a truth that even the chilliest ice princess knows: true love takes it up the butt. Happy Valentine’s Day!
Animation is by Dezmall.
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Wednesday, January 4th, 2023 -- by Bacchus
This tender incipient-anal-sex scene is from a long-defunct amateur-styled pornsite called Wife Girlfriends. I have faith in our man; he’ll make it fit:
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Friday, July 8th, 2022 -- by Bacchus
What? Has it really been more than a month since we last had a visit with Chloë, the queen of 90s anal? Well, we can’t have that! So here she is, all ready for her anal picnic to start:
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Saturday, July 2nd, 2022 -- by Bacchus
This is an intricate operation. It requires concentration:
Photo is from LesCuties.com.
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Tuesday, April 5th, 2022 -- by Bacchus
She wanted to play with them both, but they wouldn’t agree to take turns. Oh, well:
I think this originally from the DPFanatics site in the amazing and extensive 21Sextury network.
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Saturday, April 2nd, 2022 -- by Bacchus
It doesn’t look to me as if Belle Sparkles (aka Sophia Steel) enjoys this sort of thing as much as Chloë does:
Belle appears here in a small .gif clipped from Latina Sex Tapes 17.
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Friday, April 1st, 2022 -- by Bacchus
There were a couple of years there in the late 1990s when this image was the definitive “anal sex” photo that floated around the adult internet. There was just something about this woman’s cool, composed, cover-girl stare while sitting balls-deep on an anonymous cock that captured the zeitgeist of the times. This photo looked to an awful lot of people like the epitome of the in-charge-of-her-sexuality 1990s woman. Remember, 1998 was the year when Kristen Davis, as Charlotte York in the Valley of the 20-Something Guys (aka the infamous buttsex episode) of Sex And The City, famously fretted:
I can’t, Brian. I want to, but I can’t. I mean, actually no, that’s not true. I don’t want to. Or maybe I do. I don’t know what I want. But I’m afraid if I don’t, you’ll dump me. And if I do, then I’ll be the up-the-butt girl. And I don’t want to be the up-the-butt girl, because I mean… Men don’t marry up-the-butt girl. Whoever heard of Mrs. Up-The-Butt? No, no, no. I can’t. I want children and nice bedding, and I just can’t handle this right now.
Make no mistake: Charlotte’s friends, and the viewers, were laughing at her for this. She was a risible figure. And the photo at the top of this post was perhaps the most famous anal sex photo on the internet, at that very same time.
But who was our mysterious ’90s anal queen? Nobody knew. Seriously, there weren’t any reverse image search engines in those benighted days. It was a mystery, at least to most.
That was then. This is now. Through a fortuitous accident, I rediscovered “Chloë, The Queen Of 90s Anal” when I stumbled on this picture here, which is equally impressive in its own way:
At first, I was only planning to do a throwaway image post titled “What a View!” But y’all know me. At a minimum, I always have to look for a bigger and cleaner scan of whatever image I’m about to post. While I’m doing that, I might as well get some provenance. And that’s when I stumbled on the Chloë Des Lysse image treasure trove.
It turns out that the famous image is from the 1998 French photo book Chloë Des Lysse: Porn Art 2 by photographer Dahmane. The other one comes from Chloë Des Lysse: Porn Art 1, naturally; that one dates to 1996.
The books are worth your time. You’ll see a lot of Chloë. She doesn’t always have a dick up her butt, but let’s just say she could have taught Charlotte a thing or two.
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Sunday, October 24th, 2021 -- by Bacchus
On first read I thought My Husband Died And Now His Ghost Wants Anal (from McSweeneys, about five years ago) was pretty funny. And it is:
My husband Jake passed away recently. As luck would have it, just days after he died he came back as a ghost. I was never a superstitious person, but when Jake walked through the refrigerator and honked my breast, I knew it was really him. Weird misconception about ghosts: they can walk through stuff, but they also have the ability to grope.
Of course the ghost has an agenda:
Full disclosure, a tiny, tiny part of why Jake became a ghost has to do with a certain unfinished aspect of our relationship. Despite all we’ve gone through, there is one territory unexplored, one frontier unpenetrated, the one thing he couldn’t rest without: my anus.
I’m not a prude — I’m no Condeleezza Rice — but anal is not something I’m particularly interested in and I never thought Jake was either. That is until he came back after death in ghostly form to tell me otherwise.
IMO the joke sours a bit toward the end, though, when our haunted widow decides that she won’t be putting “another one of my orifices up on the sexual marketplace” and then waxes lyrical about how much she’ll enjoy his sexually-frustrated ghostly company. In death as in life, ha ha.
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Thursday, October 21st, 2021 -- by Bacchus
Gentlemen, you have a difficult set of choices facing you. First, the redhead or the brunette?
Second, well… it comes down to “where do you want to start?” Does Tab D go in Slot A or Slot C?
This set of delicious dilemmas is brought to you by FemJoy.
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Monday, October 4th, 2021 -- by Bacchus
Does your girl have a DP fantasy? Do you? I know, I know, arranging for that second cock is a real social challenge, and then there’s the athletic positioning… it can be a whole big thing. Which makes this a great time to acknowledge, as too few do, that sex toys can be really awesome as an adjunct to partnered sex:
Artwork is said to be ripped from the Nutaku adult game Booty Calls.
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Saturday, December 26th, 2020 -- by Bacchus
We’ll never know this man’s whole story. But he’s gotta be some combination of hard-up, lonely, rural, closeted, desperate, and/or wracked with cabin fever:
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Thursday, December 17th, 2020 -- by Bacchus
Getting that apple completely up in there was a bit of an arduous anal procedure, but at least it was a team effort. Getting it out again? For that, she’s totally on her own!
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Tuesday, December 15th, 2020 -- by Bacchus
Everybody knows that catgirls have a reputation for sexual enthusiasm. But this one is extra ambitious. Those are two big cocks, and she’s happily sucking one while the other one thoroughly reams her ass:
Artwork is by Harmonist11.
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Wednesday, September 23rd, 2020 -- by Bacchus
One thing I’ve always celebrated here at ErosBlog is sexual diversity. Despite my own fairly narrowly-monogamous hetero tastes and habits, I’m fascinated by the wide variety of sexy stuff horny people get up to that I would never have considered. But sexual diversity doesn’t have to mean kinks, fetishes, or any of the eighteen officially-registered flavors of gayness. It also encompasses people of highly specific (even if otherwise mundane) sexual tastes.
Consider the guy whose main joy in sexual life is fucking blondes from behind. Hard and often. Nothing else really does it for him. I mean, he can perform the full range of erotic behaviors that you’d find in the stereotypical sexually unadventurous American bedroom, but it’s all kind of flat for him. Except when he’s jamming his jim-jam up inside a bent-over blonde. Then, he comes sexually alive. His dick is twenty percent stiffer, his eyes are ten percent wider, and he comes forty percent more forcefully. Boffing a blonde on her knees? That’s what sex means to this guy.
It’s not a fetish, precisely. It’s just what our man likes. It could be anything. He’s probably got a co-worker who lives for the feeling of getting blown by a chonky brunette with enough ponytail for him to wrap around his fist. The girl who checks him into his health club? She has a thing for skinny little intellectuals with talented tongues. Everybody has sexual interests and preferences, and in some people, these are amazingly strong and specific.
So, our dude who likes to belly up to a kneeling blonde’s ass, what’s he supposed to do? There’s really two main strategies, and he may employ them both at different times in his life. The first and most obvious is to find and marry some compatible woman who enjoys being the object of his narrow affections. If he meets a lusty blonde with a pretty butt who doesn’t mind spending three nights a week with her face in the mattress, he’d be a wise man to put a ring on that. Maybe it works, or maybe she gets tired of his narrow sexual focus in a few years, but it’s worth a try. Marriage is risky that way, but for the people it works for, it can really work.
But a lot of guys aren’t ready for that. For them, the answer is lots of casual sex. Smacking a different blonde’s ass every week? It’s not an impossible dream, not in the era of online dating and hookup sites like RealCasualSex.com. It works because if your sexual interests are narrow, this won’t be instantly evident to a revolving parade of new sex partners. It’s possibly a lot easier than finding someone who wants to spend a lifetime in the same sexual position. Plus, a different blonde every week… how is that not fun?
It’s also the case that narrow sexual interests can broaden over a lifetime. I don’t think that happens smoothly and continuously; I speculate that it’s influenced by your specific sex partners. I’m not saying that plowing through fifty doggiestyle blondes would cure our hypothetical narrowly-focused horndog, but among their numbers, he might meet a golden-haired houri who leads him quite happily to sexual places he never expected to visit. In fact, I think it’s pretty likely.
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Wednesday, July 19th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
I think it’s safe to say that “down the rabbit hole” has a new meaning for Alice now:
Art is by Jackanita.
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Wednesday, September 21st, 2016 -- by Bacchus
This post is about a story out of Canada regarding the criminal trial of a man accused of smuggling a metric buttload of pure gold out of the Royal Canadian Mint. But as you read this story, remember that it’s entirely based on speculation and circumstantial evidence. The Royal Canadian Mint never noticed any missing gold, they don’t know if there even is any gold missing, and our man was never actually caught with any gold in his actual butt:
An employee of the Royal Canadian Mint allegedly smuggled about $180,000 in gold from the fortress-like facility, possibly evading multiple levels of detection with a time-honoured prison trick.
Hiding the precious metal up his bum.
All they really know is that he worked in the Mint and was selling a lot of gold:
Court was told that, on multiple occasions, Lawrence took small circular chunks of gold – a cookie-sized nugget called a “puck” – to Ottawa Gold Buyers in the Westgate Shopping Centre on Carling Avenue.
Typically, the pucks weighed about 210 grams, or 7.4 ounces, for which he was given cheques in the $6,800 range, depending on fluctuating gold prices, court heard. He then deposited the cheques at the Royal Bank in the same mall.
One day a teller became suspicious at the size and number of Ottawa Gold Buyers cheques being deposited and Lawrence’s request to wire money out of the country. She then noticed on his account profile that he worked at the Mint.
The “pucks” he sold were suspiciously similar to the pucks he worked with in the Mint:
The Crown was able to show the pucks precisely fit the Mint’s custom “dipping spoon” made in-house – not available commercially – that is used to scoop molten gold during the production process.
Lawrence, who has since been terminated, was an operator in the refinery section. Among his duties was to scoop gold from buckets so it could be tested for purity, as the Mint prides itself on gold coins above the 99 per cent level.
But how did he get them out of the mint? Could the Vaseline in his locker have been involved?
Court was told Lawrence set off the metal detector at an exit from the “secure area” with more frequency than any other employee – save those with metal medical implants. When that happened, the procedure was to do a manual search with a hand-held wand, a search that he always passed.
Investigators also found a container of vaseline in his locker and the trial was presented with the prospect that a puck could be concealed in an anal cavity and not be detected by the wand. In preparation for these proceedings, in fact, a security employee actually tested the idea, Barnes said.
Wait, what?
…a security employee actually tested the idea…
Yes, gentle reader, your wondering eyes do not deceive you. A security employee of the Royal Canadian Mint actually volunteered — or was ordered — to shove a greased seven-ounce puck of solid gold up his or her ass so that they could test the vital question of whether it could be detected by the hand-held metal detectors used for backup screening. I ask you, is that dedication to your job, or is that dedication to your job?
And further consider this: the “let’s test these wands” project had to be documented fairly well, or what’s the point of the exercise? Somewhere in the bowels (you will forgive this pun if you forgave the “metric buttload” characterization at the top of the post) of the Royal Canadian Mint, there is almost certainly video of a security guard waddling through a checkpoint with an extra half-a-pound of unaccustomed gravity in his or her stride while Canadian-polite co-workers try very hard to act like nothing abnormal is happening…
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Saturday, August 6th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
This anal vibrator action is from the Italian fumetti comic Pig.
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Saturday, April 9th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
Esmerelda can tie Quasimodo to the cross, but she can’t make him stand and deliver if he’s not having a good time:
Art is by Tram Pararam.
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Thursday, November 5th, 2015 -- by Bacchus
What really fuels modern politics (not counting big donor money):
Moral: never let an automated system truncate your public-facing strings.
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Saturday, August 22nd, 2015 -- by Bacchus
This is, I kid you not, a six-minute Buzzfeed explainer video about anal play in general and rimming (analingus, “eating ass”, “anal oral”) in particular:
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Monday, June 29th, 2015 -- by Bacchus
This anal sex art is by French artist Luca Raimondo.
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Saturday, June 20th, 2015 -- by Bacchus
Art by Angio in Anal Maximum. (It’s possible — but not confirmed — than Angio is another name used by artist Joseph Farrel.)
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Thursday, September 18th, 2014 -- by Bacchus
I cropped this face-detail from an explicit anal sex photo on Tumblr, where it is captioned “Clearly not one of the porn stars who hates anal.”
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Monday, July 7th, 2014 -- by Bacchus
It doesn’t look to me like there’s adequate lube and preparation for this incipient penetration:
The artwork appears around the web with the French caption “La chose sa pressait contre le cratère de mon anus”, but no artist or source information is ready to hand.
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Saturday, May 24th, 2014 -- by Bacchus
Puppy tails are back!
Many years ago I linked to some waggable rubber buttplug “tails” for puppy play, but they stopped being available in 2012 or so. Believe it or not, I’ve had a couple of emails from people who saw my 2006 post, asking where they can still get these. It was a “sorry, no idea” situation until I found these:
Here’s the sales copy:
The butt plug that your loyal pal has been begging for is finally here!
Combining the fantasy of puppy play with the anal stimulation of a butt plug, anybody who wears this supple tail is bound to end up wagging it in delight while forming a deep connection with their owner. The tail portion that gives this product its name is luxuriously soft and shaped to realistically bring your canine fantasies to life. .
Available in three sizes to accommodate your desired intensity, the softly rounded plug has an arched handle that makes it easy to pull out or convenient to grip for teasing before or after use. Comfortable and hygienic and s medical-grade silicone construction means that this toy is ready for any play from gentle to “ruff”!
2021 update: These specific toys have vanished from the market, as most eventually do, but there’s a similar tail in this puppy play set.
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Tuesday, September 17th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
From the department of “only funny when it’s in a cartoon”, this novel suggestion for a way to “help” your girlfriend wake up in the morning:
Art is by Aeolus.
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Friday, May 17th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Looking through the new sex toy listings online can be an eye-opening and educational experience. Never has that been more true than when I discovered The Stud Finder Prostate Milking Stick:
The sales copy is perhaps even more eye-opening:
If you were ever curious about whether you can milk a bull, this device answers with a roaring “YES!”
The Stud Finder is the newest addition to our stable of prostate stimulation devices, but unlike the more conventional silicone, rubber, or plastic p-spot toys, this massive metal bad boy is daunting to look at as well as feel. 12 inches of solid stainless steel end in a heavy curving bulb designed to activate the male prostate gland and get your juices flowing, whether you want them to or not!
Prostate milking is a technique permitting the expression of fluids without necessarily triggering male orgasm, so this device is great for keeping your male slave healthy without offering him orgasmic relief – though using it doesn’t exclude pleasure at all! This heavy duty rod is destined to be all up in your arsenal for years to come!
Update: Sadly the StudFinder Prostate Milking Stick is no longer still on the market. But see: Prostate Massagers.
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Thursday, February 14th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
This is how Valentine’s Day turns into anal Valentine’s Day. Cupid takes careful aim, his shot is true, and after that — perforce! — the loving portal opens wide:
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Monday, December 31st, 2012 -- by Bacchus
So I saw this line on a raunchy porn Tumblr somewhere:
My favourite fuck-holes, in order of preference: MOUTH, ASSHOLE, then PUSSY.
And it made me feel…old.
You know why?
Because I am old, would be the flip answer; though in fact I’m only just sorta middle-aged. But what I mean is, I’m old enough to remember when being “all about the pussy” was a defining character of manliness. Hookers were still using “Greek” as a euphemism for anal sex between a man and a woman, and it was expressly because of the reputation the classical Greeks had for man-on-boy anal. Men could get blowjobs but you didn’t admit to licking pussy (sissy!) or wanting to fuck your woman up the butt. If you wanted to put it up her ass, the thinking was, it was because you were a closet homo without even the courage to try it with a man.
So I saw that quote on that Tumblr and it was a “wow, the world really has changed” moment for me. Which of course it has. The discourse about sex of all kinds the internet has enabled has radically changed our sexual world.
Sunday, May 20th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
So, I got some promo info about a new porn site called Tonight’s Girlfriend so I went to look at a few sample pictures. And it’s perfectly fine stuff:
But then I got to looking at the prose description and marketing text, which is almost always a mistake:
She’s here. My toy has arrived. I’m a huge fan of Dana Dearmond, and tonight she’s going to become my fan, because she’s going to do whatever I want, and she’s going to like it. I’m in town for a few days, and I’m lucky enough to be able to pay for her services for a night. Tonight she’ll take my dick deep down her throat and thank me for it. She’ll get her asshole pulverized by my cock and ask for more. She’ll do whatever I want, starting by wearing the outfit I ordered her and requested she bring. This is going to be my night, and Dana Dearmond will love it … because I will.
It’s not badly written by the standards of the genre, not for the most part. It supports and reinforces the fantasy theme of the site, which looks like the paid “girlfriend for a night with no sexual limits” high-end prostitution fantasy that got old Charlie Sheen in so much trouble. (“High-end” could be a pun here … or maybe that’s just me.)
But then I got to this line, which seems jarringly out of place: “She’ll get her asshole pulverized by my cock…”
Wait, what?
I’ve seen this word “pulverized” before in porn writing. But I don’t get it. Who finds the word “pulverized” erotic? In what universe is a pulverized asshole an object of erotic fantasy?
I know there’s a whole line of gonzo porn out there featuring painful anal sex that is intended to leave the recipients stretched and sore. It’s mostly not to my taste, but it’s a fetish like any other. I’m guessing this is a sort of hyperbolized gesture toward that tradition. Perhaps no literal pulverization is contemplated; instead, it may be an exaggerated way of suggesting really rough anal sex without regard to her comfort, or even with the intent of being very painful.
I think about this stuff too much, I know. I should stop.
That, or open a cannibal fetish site: “Minced assholes, with fennel and sage!”
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Wednesday, September 21st, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Anal-focused tweet of the day:
A woman’s asshole is like a 9 volt battery. You know you shouldn’t, but sooner or later you’re gonna put your tongue on it.
Monday, September 12th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
There’s less of this good old-fashioned sex blogging going around than there used to be. This tale of a lazy Sunday morning comes from At A Kinky House:
On Sunday morning, we both knew we ought to get up and be busy. We both had things that we thought we ought to do. Instead, we cuddled. He touched me until I was sucking on the sheet trying not to scream and brought me to orgasm repeatedly. As I often do when I am in the throes of pleasure and he’s not, I cast about anxiously, trying to think of something I could do to bring him to the point of bliss I was approaching. And then I hit upon one of his favorite fantasies.
I asked him to fuck my ass in the shower.
To my everlasting shock, he said he’d do it. With soap as the lube, as we had no modern option with us. And then he sent me to the closet for a wire coat hanger.
Now, the day before I had brought upstairs an entire selection of hangers that were unused in a downstairs closet. I was sure there would not be any old wire ones remaining. But I faithfully trotted across to the closet to look and was ecstatically relieved (and right). There were no wire hangers. The closest thing I could find was a heavy metal one I was sure would be inappropriate.
Not only did he think it was a reasonable substitute, he stuffed a pair of red panties in my mouth, bent me over and began whacking me with it. The thing was, to be honest, evil. Even with my soaked panties on, I could feel how deep it impacted my tush and I was sure he was leaving bruises.
He didn’t seem to care about my distress, but when my whimpers became a little louder than was perhaps wise, he stopped and sent me off to the shower.
Not long after, my forehead against the tile and my body bent forward enough that my breasts swung freely, he soaped up his cock with a bar of old-fashioned Ivory and pressed it against me. Against my anus, that is. I whimpered loudly as he fucked me, but between the shower, the bathroom fan and the air conditioning, I doubt the noise I made went much past the shower stall.
That’s one bar of Ivory soap that will never again be 99 and 44/100s percent pure…
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Sunday, August 21st, 2011 -- by Bacchus
You’ve got to love the innocent setups you used to get in vintage porn. These are the establishing shots for an orgy in a 1975 Color Climax publication called Anal Sex #15:
“Hi, guys! Are we ever happy to see you! We were getting bored just laying here naked … won’t you join us?”
They would:
Wednesday, June 1st, 2011 -- by Bacchus
I bring you one of the simpler debaucheries: a girl with a lit candle up her butt.
Art is by Milo Manara.
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Thursday, April 7th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
A tweet from @AdeleHaze:
Got harrassed in the street with offer of anal sex. Informed the dickhead that I had a plastic cock and lots of lube if he was keen.
Too gentle, though. Dude wouldn’t have offered lube if things played out the way he meant it…
Sunday, April 3rd, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Here’s an animated .gif you won’t want to miss: Dildo Launcher
Tuesday, March 29th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Here’s my favorite sort of thing to link to on ErosBlog — a passionate and philosophical treatise on a sexual practice that will be unfamiliar to some readers. This time it’s Ryan O’Connell’s What It Feels Like To Get F*cked In The Ass:
I’m going to try to put the feeling of anal sex into words so you can get an idea of how crazysexyintense it is. First of all, anal sex cannot be an on-the-fly decision. If I’m getting fucked in the ass, I need to know way in advance so I can prepare properly. The guy needs to send me a private Facebok event invitation titled, “Ryan O’Connell gets fucked in the ass.” with a set date and time. I can then have the luxury of choosing “Attending”, “Maybe Attending” or “Not Attending.” If I choose to attend, I need to start doing some serious yoga to Sade or Enya. When that’s done, I’ll give a pep talk to my asshole and be like, “Hey babe! I know you’ve been in retirement or whatever, but you need to get ready because something’s coming to an orifice near you. Don’t hate me! You’ll like it. And don’ try any funny business tonight. I’ll be mortified if you-know-what happens!”
Thanks to Sexoteric for finding the link.
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Saturday, October 23rd, 2010 -- by Bacchus
ErosBlog has a little bit of history with the idea of putting oranges up a person’s butt. And however good or bad an idea that might strike you as, it can be done.
We’re not just talking about squishy little Mandarin deals, either. Oh, no.
Oh, no. We’re talking big robust California Navel oranges.
Explanations I leave to others.
Tuesday, October 19th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
I would be remiss if I did not link you to William Salatan’s article The Riddle of the Sphincter: Why do women who have anal sex get more orgasms?
The survey data is real; it’s the explanation that’s uncertain. So he lays out more than a dozen possible theories to explain the data, and it’s quite an interesting read:
9. Love and trust cause orgasms and anal sex.
One woman writes:
The more I love and trust someone, the more likely I am to have an orgasm while with him–and the more likely I am to be okay with pushing society’s “norms” with him. Similarly, the more he proves that he knows what he’s doing, the more likely I am to let him do something that could potentially really, really hurt me.
This is the most uplifting theory. It implies that the sample of women who report regular anal sex is heavily biased toward intimate relationships. The data strongly support this. Compared with women who are single and dating, women in a relationship are only about 50 percent more likely, at best, to report vaginal sex in the last 90 days. But they’re two to three times more likely to report anal sex. And women who live with their boyfriends are more likely to report anal sex–but not more likely to report vaginal sex–than women who don’t. Anal sex, more so than vaginal sex, seems to correlate with intimacy and commitment.
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Thursday, August 26th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Another bummer of a tattoo, by my standards:
It’s the anal variety again. And it says “Fun Center” — which is at least defensible. If it weren’t for the ring of barbed wire inside the words. Talk about your mixed messages!
As seen on Tumblr.
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Monday, August 16th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
A lot of vintage porn is “ho hum” because of changes in the times. Publication standards, camera technology and lighting, media and media preservation issues, shifting morals and taboos, it all combines to make great-grandfather’s porn seem pretty lame, tame, or boring … usually.
And then every now and then something like this bit of raunch from Vintage Lust will, if you’ll excuse the turn of phrase, pop up:
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Thursday, October 15th, 2009 -- by Bacchus
Back in 2003 I published an excerpt from a sex scene involving food and anal sex. It began:
Aisla sighed as the warm grease from the roast duck touched her bottom hole, then gave a little gasp as her anus was penetrated. Yarath began to wriggle his finger about in her rectum, exploring her and greasing her ring…
Despite the fact that the girl in this photo (Kink.com model Angelica Saige) still has her thong on, I think you can see why this Sex And Submission shoot immediately reminded me of that long-ago blog post:
And from the way he’s looking contemplatively at the remains of his drumstick, I’m not sure she’ll have the thong on much longer…
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Sunday, July 19th, 2009 -- by Bacchus
Did I just write “surplus zucchini?” I repeat myself.
Have twice refused well-intentioned gifts of zucchini and squash in just the past week, I can testify that it’s the time of year when surplus zucchini bags itself up and roams the neighborhood, looking for unguarded porches to colonize. There’s a modern American folk tale in common currency about the man so desperate to rid himself of surplus zucchini that he bagged it up and left it in his unlocked car in a busy parking lot, hoping someone would steal it. When he came back, what did he find? Why, three bags of zucchini!
Rule 34: If it exists, there is porn of it.
Proof: This post at Spanking Blog. Click the first link in the post for the most graphic demonstration one could hope for.
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Saturday, June 20th, 2009 -- by Bacchus
By now I’ve got something of a history of announcing new sites from Kink.com, so why stop now? The next in the pipeline is an ass-themed site called Everything Butt, which is already “up” with several shoots even though it won’t be formally open and live for a few more days. The site’s marketing copy makes it sound like a full buffet of fetish fun for anybody who enjoys playing with butts:
Everything Butt celebrates ass play in all its forms. Spanking, enemas, fisting, fucking, licking, and sniffing are performed by experienced porn stars and anal virgins too. These beautiful naked women all come to enjoy the smorgasbord of extreme anal antics under the skilled supervision of bondage master Lochai. It’s an exhilarating festival of analingus, Klismaphilia, and no-holds-barred buggery, scientifically designed to induce your expectant salivation. Do you “Yum!” for bum? Then dive in!
In looking over the new site the first thing that struck me was a delightful still photo from the preliminary “model interview” part of one of the shoots:
That’s the lovely and talented Bobbi Starr looking sanguine about those very large implements — and I use the word “talented” in a most considered fashion. (You’ll have to take my word for it unless you join the site or buy the shoot, but it’s true; for now, let me just say…they fit.)
Sadly the usual free sample galleries are not yet live, but I snagged a few pictures of a shower scene to share here. We begin with Aiden Starr and Flower Tucci taking an innocent shower together:
Note the scrunchy-thing! I always thought those were some sort of shower fungus that’s symbiotic with women, because they started accumulating in my bathroom (the scrunchy things, that is, not women) right after The Nymph moved in with me. But apparently, it’s for washing with. Who knew?
Moving on, the ladies decide to put on a little display of soapy bottoms:
And then we move on to the double-enema portion of our program. Apparently if you want to get really clean, showering together just isn’t enough any more:
And here’s the Everything Butt logo:
Nice, eh?
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Tuesday, February 10th, 2009 -- by Bacchus
Two sentences from The Pearl, October 1879:
In accordance with our previously devised arrangements she was persuaded to
ride a St. George upon me, my cock was inserted in her still tender cunt, with great
care, and allowed slowly to get his position, but the excitement was too great for me,
with an exclamation of delight I shot a stream of sperm up into her very entrails, this
set her off, she began slowly to move upon me, her cunt gripping and throbbing upon
the shaft most deliciously, and we were soon running another delightful course; this
was too much for Frank, his cock was again as hard as iron, and eager to get in
somewhere, so kneeling up behind her he tried to insert his prick in her cunt
alongside of mine, but found it too difficult to achieve, then the charming wrinkled
orifice of her pink bottom-hole caught his attention, the tip of his affair was wet with
our spendings, and his vigorous shoves soon gained an entrance, as I was holding her
fast and she was too excited to resist anything, only giving a slight scream as she
found him slip inside of the part she thought was only made for another purpose. I
asked them to rest a few moments and enjoy the sensation of feeling where we were,
our pricks throbbing against each other in a most delicious manner, with only the
thin membrane of the anal canal between them; it made us spend immediately to the
great delight of Rosa, who at once urged us to go on.
Tuesday, November 25th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Since I wrote last week about Google’s Secret Sexual No-Fly List, Tony Comstock has been doing some more digging into the perversities of Google’s various admitted and secret adult keyword filters. He’s been blogging up a storm about it, with posts like this:
In that last one, Tony shared the startling discovery that Google’s SafeSearch algorithm returns thirty three million “safe” results for [penis], but not a single one for [clitoris]. On top of all the other problems, Google’s filters are sexist! Tony expounded on this in his subsequent post, Dragged into Google’s Sex Ghetto, Kicking and Screaming:
As mentioned previously, I had been working on a post tentatively entitled “Does the Googlebot have Asperger’s Syndrome?” but I realize now that the analogy is too generous. People with Asperger’s see and understand the world differently from “normal” people, but I’ve never read anything about Asperger’s that suggests that Aspies are especially lazy or malfeasant.
The way that Google’s SafeSearch filter handles returns for [penis] vs. the way it handles them for [clitoris] isn’t a product of seeing things differently. It’s just plain lazy. Somewhere inside of Google, an engineer was tasked with filtering “adult” sites from returning under “strict filtering” searches. Somehow he (I’m going to have to assume this engineer is a man,) when confronted with the vagaries English language, was able to write an algorithm that allowed 30 million “safe” returns for [penis]. But when faced with the same problem for [clitoris] he found it easier to simply put clitoris on a list of banned words.
That’s not Aspie-ish, that’s just lazy and sexiest.
[Erotic] was too much trouble for him, so it got banned too. [Nude] and [naked] were too much trouble, so they were out. His algorithm couldn’t tell the difference between a nursery rhyme rooster and a raging hard-on, so [cock] got banned. Is this webpage talking about kitty-cats or cunts? His algorithm couldn’t tell, so [pussy] went on to the list, along with [bastard] and [anus]. For some reason his algorithm could find 4.7 million “safe” returns for [glans] and 2.5 million “safe” returns for [testicle], but not a single “safe” return for [fellatio] or [cunnilingus], so they went on the list as well.
That’s not the product of a odd blind spot to social interaction, that’s just lazy and ass-covering; not to mention laughable coming from a company that touts its “advance proprietary technology.” (I’ll leave it to someone else to decide whether or not it’s [evil].)
Now Susie Bright has gotten her teeth into the sexist implications of the penis versus clitoris filtering, and has written, in “Clitoris” on Google’s Banned Word List:
I recall the 1970s abortion rights poster that read “If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament.” The sexism of the Internet infrastructure is the same joke. There is no way that men would consider “prostate cancer” an inappropriate search or conversation item. They would never for a moment consider that their “penis” was a word that couldn’t be allowed in a respectable business or learning environment.
But women’s bodies? Oh, you’re familiar with the filthy and unspeakable territory those will lead you into. It’s in the Bible, right?
Let’s stop coddling Internet censorship as if it were an etiquette or a “children’s” issue. The people suffering from being firewalled and banned aren’t commercial porn-makers with some gonzo to pitch – they’re educators, healthcare professionals, midwives, nurses, doctors, researchers, artists, writers, filmmakers, political activists, critics and analysts– all of whom find their interest in women’s lives to be shrouded in the great Internet burqa of “safeness.”
Look. I write a blog with “sex” right up in the title, and I make part of a living at it. So it’s no surprise that I’ve always hated the lame and weak approach to filtering that Google (well, all the search engines, but who else matters?) uses to disrupt and marginalize the great internet conversation about sex. It’s also no surprise that I can’t talk about this without some mental genius popping up in my comments to suggest that I wouldn’t care about this if I didn’t want more visitors to my blog. Happens, I’ve got six years of blog posts that prove I care passionately about the free exchange of sexual ideas, so I don’t let the nattering slow me down much. All of which is preface to my point, which is that I’m freaking delighted to see the beginnings of a noisy conversation about this.
Is there any hope that the sex bloggers of America can shame Google into being less shame-faced about the sexual contents of its search index? Given the massively overwhelming numerical superiority of the prudish majority to whom Google is catering with searches “safe” from female sexuality, probably not. But it’s important to remember that the actual people at Google are unlikely to be all that prudish or sexist; they are just, as Tony has pointed out so well, taking the lazy way out when attempting to do something (catering to sexist prudes) that they’d probably rather not be doing anyway, but for their perception (or perhaps assumption?) that it’s a corporate necessity.
Thus, I see at least a faint hope that if the mockery of their weak and lame filtering shortcuts is loud enough, they’ll have to improve their filtering systems out of a mix of professional pride and a sense of public relations necessity. If we can just disrupt their comfortable assumption that all sexual discussion is acceptable collateral damage, to be readily sacrificed in their (very difficult and endless) war against spammy porn sites, that alone would be a worthwhile step in the right direction.
Friday, October 17th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
There’s an old folk song out there, sung by the Kingston Trio and many others, that goes a little bit like this:
We came to town to see
that old tattooed lady.
She was a sight to see,
tattooed from head to knee.
My uncle Ned was there.
He came to gape and stare.
“I’ve never!” he declared
“seen such a freak so fair.
And on her jaw
was the Royal Flying Corp
and on her back
was the Union Jack,
now could you ask for more?
All up and down her spine
marched the Queen’s own guards in line
and all around her hips
sailed a fleet of battleships.
And over her left kidney
was a bird’s eye view of Sidney
but what we liked best
was upon her chest:
My little home in Waikiki!
And which point a voice shouts in surprise “What did you say?” And the whole song starts over. You can sing it all day if you like.
If you’ve heard the song, you’ll recognize the mental voice in which I thought “What?” when I saw a mention on Fleshbot of a woman with a ring of writing tattooed around her anus.
“What did he say?”
Also: Ouch.
Apparently the writing does not, as has been suggested elsewhere, say (in Elvish runes or otherwise): “One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.”
Aside: I know a guy who would fall over dead from sheer nerd joy if he had a girlfriend who (a) liked anal and (b) had that tattooed around her rosebud.
Sadly, no; what porn star Adrenalynn actually has tattooed on her asshole is (reportedly) the phrase “Jarrod’s Little Fuckdoll.”
Jarrod is her husband, and I heartily hope the tender sentiment has the same effect on him as the runes would have on your average 19-year-old anal-loving Tolkien fan.
For the curious, there’s a fairly clear view of Adrenalynn’s anal tattoo in the twelfth picture from this gallery. The last ten seconds of the fourth video clip here also gives you several good views, if you’re fast with the pause button. Adrenalynn is pretty cute, so your time won’t be wasted!
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Monday, August 18th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I’m on record as being something of a grump and a curmudgeon about the value of internet links — I think they’re valuable even when they’re trivial, and I get pissed when people smash them needlessly and in job lots. Apparently this idea of “links as valuable structure” is incomprehensible to plenty of smart people; that seems to be why I got such a negative reaction to my “vandals” post, and also to be why I got treated as a troll during the great Xeni Deletes Violet Blue kerfluffle. In that latter case, my expressed disappointment at the wholesale smashing of links was apparently just not believed by the Boing Boing moderator — and since it was assumed that I was raising arguments I didn’t believe in, the natural explanation was that I was trolling and/or taking sides in the bizarre personal fight that was going on behind the scenes.
My point, then and now, was dismay that the folks at Boing Boing would smash a bunch of links despite having a better-than-average comprehension of their value. (My error seems to have been in assuming too much commonality of viewpoint among the Boing Boing principals, but that’s ancient history now.) Anyway, here’s an excerpt from a recent speech Cory gave that expounds on this “links as valuable structure” concept:
You and me and anyone who’s ever made a link between two web pages helped to create an underlying structure to the Internet – a citational structure that Google and other search engines come along and hoover up, and then analyse to see who links to which pages, which pages are most linked-to and therefore thought to be most authoritative, where those pages link to and how they’ve had their authority conferred on them. This sounds familiar to anyone who’s an academic – it’s more or less how citations work if you’re trying for a better job at the university, and of course Google was founded by a couple of PHD candidates; when all you’ve got is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
What this means is that the old approach to organising knowledge which is embodied by the early Google competitors like Yahoo, who initially… You may remember that Yahoo used to stand for Yet Another Heirarchical… I think Obstreperous Oracle… Officious Oracle. Yet Another Heirarchical Officious Oracle, and the idea was that Yahoo would pay giant boiler rooms full of bored people to look at every page on the Internet and sort them into their proper single category (or multiple categories) in the One True Taxonomy of All Human Knowledge, and this was outstripped by the web’s growth so quickly that it just kind of fell behind a became a kind of sick joke until Google came along and figured out how to enlist every person on the Internet who ever makes a link between two web-pages to collaborate on teaching it what the underlying structure of the Internet is. You literally couldn’t pay enough money to organise the Internet – you can only do it for free – you can only do it by allowing people to make these links.
So, this the kind of post-web. This is the web of cheap collaboration, and its given us a billion Youtube videos, blog posts, Flickr photos and every imaginable piece of what we now call ‘user-generated content’, and most of them are shit! And this is fantastic, because it used to be that if something was likely to turn out to be shit, you couldn’t do it, and if you did do it, you certainly couldn’t do it in a way that would be reachable by other people.
So that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. The proposition is that the internet is a precious temple of information, built with links of (mostly) shit. If you smash the links, you damage the temple; whereupon saying “but I was just cleaning up shit!” won’t save you from my acid wrath. Especially when you should know better.
If you could care less about links and temples and the internet, you should still read Cory’s speech anyway; he also talks about Paris Hilton’s pussy. (True! Although he’s kind of a wimp and says “genitals” instead of “pussy”.)
Wednesday, July 16th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
There is no sex in this post — it’s a post about the business of blogging. Feel free to skip it.
Short version: this is a warning to my fellow adult bloggers about a very dubious pitch you may have received recently. Etology.com is sending out spammy emails to adult bloggers in which the company feigns an interest in buying ads, only to abandon that pretense once you answer the email. Without further ado, having confirmed your interest in selling ads, they begin giving the hard sell for ad brokerage services — not buying any ads at all, but rather, offering your ad space to their network of potential advertisers. Classic bait-and-switch: first the false offer (the bait) to get your attention, then the switch to the real offer. Illegal in some jurisdictions, scummy everywhere.
Long version follows.
On Monday, I received a curious email:
Subject: I want to Buy Ad Space on erosblog.com
Greetings,
I would like to buy advertising space on your website erosblog.com. Do you have anything available? Please let me know.
Best Regards,
Tai Kinney
Account Manager
www.Etology.com
Emails like this are not uncommon. What made this one curious is that Etology.com is an advertising broker; they act as a middleman between web publishers and web advertisers, collecting a commission on all the advertising transactions they touch, and helping to facilitate those transactions. I would expect them to be making a pitch to broker any available ad space ErosBlog might have, but buying advertising space here? It didn’t make sense. The “spam or con job” hairs on the back of my neck went up.
No matter; they got one of my standard responses, the low-effort one I save for leads I don’t think will amount to anything:
Hi, Tai. Ad space on Erosblog is available through the Blogads “advertise on ErosBlog” links in the ErosBlog sidebars. Prices and availability are visible when you follow those links.
Thanks for your interest!
I will confess to sending the above in a spirit of modest mischief. Even if Etology.com had a genuine interest in buying advertising space on ErosBlog, the idea that they might wish to do so via the services of a competing ad brokerage service (BlogAds) is, perhaps, implausible.
When I sent the above email, my “send-and-receive” email operation brought an identically worded email addressed to another one of my sites, with the only word of difference being the domain name. Asking about buying ad space via bulk email? Really? The unlikely inquiry now began to seem downright implausible.
And sure enough, my next communique from Etology.com was strangely silent about the ad space they wanted to buy just three hours and twenty-seven minutes previously:
Thank you for your quick response. I just want to mention that we are the largest adult advertising network and we have great relationships with big advertisers like rude.com, redtube.com, youporn.com, and many others. We offer the highest industry publisher payouts and I would like the opportunity to help you better monetize your ad space. I’m very interested in working with you and your website, please contact me so that we can see if we are a good fit.
Regards,
Tai Kinney
Account Manager
www.Etology.com
That’s a form letter, an email macro, and it contains the standard ad brokerage sales pitch: “to help you better monetize your ad space.” Which, it may surprise you to learn, I am not against. Monetization buys me beer and bacon and dinners out with The Nymph. But there’s the little matter of the bait and switch, which is so offensively blatant and dishonest that it has — not to put too fine a point on things — righteously pissed me off. What, am I supposed to be too stupid to notice that the bait has been yanked away?
More serious than me being pissed off is the issue of trust. Ad brokers, like affiliate programs, are notorious for collecting services from webmasters (in this case, ad inventory, page views for web ads) and then being slow to pay, or finding some lame excuse (“bad traffic” is the vague classic) not to pay at all, or simply getting behind on payments and then going out of business without paying anybody. It happens all the time.
Which means, of course, that if you do business on the web, business that involves collecting, holding, and transmitting money on behalf of webmasters, you need to be (or at least to look) as trustworthy as a bank. Your fundamental business challenge is to convince webmasters to trust you with their money. And that’s not easy. Webmasters who have been been repeatedly burned are a hostile and suspicious lot, when it comes to trying the next great new program. We’ve heard all the monetization promises before, and been burned by too many of them.
One way in which you do NOT gain a reputation for being trustworthy is to lie to your potential business associates in your very first freaking email to them. As J.P. Morgan once famously said, “A man I do not trust could not get money from me on all the bonds in Christendom.” Thus, my interest in pursuing Etology’s offer to broker my ad inventory, an interest that was never very high, is now … how shall I put this delicately? … very low.
Nonetheless, I was fascinated by the blatant nature of the initial deception, and amused by the slight dissonance resulting from the macro/form-letter nature of their brokerage pitch. In response to my response, they sent me a standard brokerage marketing pitch with out-of-place “please contact me” phrasing. Let’s ask about that, aggressively:
Er, I’m confused. I just DID contact you in response to a request from you to buy ad space. Why are you asking me to contact you a second time? Was your first email just a bait-and-switch spam to advertise your ad brokerage service? If so, that’s an exceptionally dubious business practice that’s not encouraging me to explore doing business with you.
In all honesty, I never expected to hear from them again. I was forgetting that it never pays to underestimate the tenacity, or overestimate the chutzpah, of a commissioned salesperson:
I apologize for the confusion. I just wanted to see if there was any interest in me helping you monetize your ad space on your website. Like I said before we are the largest adult advertising network and we have the highest industry publisher payouts. My intention is to help pair up our advertisers with publishers that have great sites like yours. Please let me know if there is any interest.
Thank you for your time,
Tai Kinney
Account Manager
www.Etology.com
Well, there we have it — a bare apology (for my confusion, natch, not for anything Tai actually did) and the sales pitch a second time. At least it’s now fairly clear that Tai never had any interest in buying ad space; the deceptive intent in the first email is now confirmed.
Sometimes the devil gets in me, and I write challenging emails to people. This was one of those times:
I’m sorry, Tailynn, but I’m still not sure I understand what’s going on here. The first email from you had the following subject line: “I want to Buy Ad Space on erosblog.com.” The first sentence of that email was “I would like to buy advertising space on your website erosblog.com.”
You are now saying “I just wanted to see if there was any interest in me helping you monetize your ad space.” That’s really quite different, and not, I think, a matter of “confusion” if your only interest is in brokering sales of ad space on behalf of third-party advertisers. That would not be confusion on my part, but rather, deception on yours.
So, which is it? Was your initial inquiry in respect to buying ad space, or brokering it?
I note with interest that I am now receiving queries identical to your first at some of my other blog properties. Right now it looks very much to me like you are engaging in deceptive spam practices, unless there’s some aspect to our communications which I am misunderstanding. I hope you can clear this up for me?
At this point, Tai’s best plan would have been to fess up to the deception, apologize for it, wish me a nice day, and move on, hoping I would forget all about it and never mention it to anyone.
What I got was the first two things in eight words, a miraculous verbal economy. This full and fair but extremely sparse apology was followed by — you guessed it! — more sales pitch. First sentence: I’m sorry I lied to you. Next seven sentences: now let me tell you how great it’s going to be doing business with you!
I apologize for being misleading in my inquiries. Let me start over. My company Etology.com is an adult advertising network that helps pair up advertisers with publishers like yourself that have great sites. We’ve developed extensive relationships with big advertisers like youporn, rude.com, and redtube to name a few. We also have a large selection of network ads. My offering to you is to place advertising on your site to help monetize your ad space, thus helping you make money from your site. The types of ads available to you are GTBs, text, banner, commercial breaks, and in-video XML. Please let me know if you have any questions.
Best Regards,
Tai Kinney
Account Manager
www.Etology.com
Astonishing. Shorter Tai: “I lied, I’m sorry, but I don’t see why we can’t still do business.”
I decided to decline the invitation to let Tai start over. Churlish of me, I suppose. Instead, I offered Tai the short lecture on business ethics, along with modest foreshadowing as to why it’s not smart to lie to bloggers on behalf of your internet company:
Tailynn, thank you for being — on your fourth try — straightforward with me. I’ll try to be as straightforward with you.
As it happens, I am interested in finding another ad broker. I had previously looked at Etology, but your website contains no information suggesting that it is an adult-advertising friendly network, so I had dismissed it as a possibility.
However, your initial contact with me was, as you have now admitted, a deliberate lie. You are spamming bloggers with a false and misleading inquiry in an attempt to get attention, and then you are baiting and switching, disclaiming any interest in buying ad space and instead offering your brokerage services.
Not only is that unconscionable as a spamming technique, it is laughably stupid. It establishes you and your company as untrustworthy, which is a very poor basis for attracting new publishers to your network. A publisher has to trust an ad broker with collection and remission of funds. How on earth could I trust your company with my money, when your initial business contact with me consisted of a blatant and deliberate lie?
I am planning to complain publicly about your mendacious business practices to provide warning to the blogging community, but before I do so, I’d like to give someone in a position of higher authority in your organization an opportunity to comment on whether this sort of mendacious business practice is consistent with your corporate policies. Do you have any suggestions as to whom I should forward my complaint and request for corporate comment? Or shall I simply start with your abuse and support emails and work from there?
That one was sent after close of business Monday. A couple of hours into Tuesday’s business day, there was no response. As I was indeed planning to make this blog post, it seemed only fair to Etology to give them at least one shot to spin this their way. So I sent the following email to support@, abuse@, Tai, and to Brock Purpura, Etology CEO, whose email I deduced from press releases and from the Etology.com standard email conventions:
Subject: Complaint And Request For Corporate Comment
Hello. I have a complaint about Etology’s email marketing practices. Specifically, one of your Account Managers is spamming adult bloggers with a deceptive come-on, claiming that Etology wants to “buy” ad space and then, once this lie gets a blogger response, switching over to the standard “we’d like to help you monetize your ad space” broker sales pitch. As you are in the brokerage business, there can be no doubt that your sales managers know the difference between “buy” and “help monetize”, so the initial email appears to be an obvious and deliberate lie.
I consider lying to prospective customers to be an abusive and deceptive marketing practice that reflects extremely badly on Etology.com. I will, for whatever little it may be worth, be making my disgust at this marketing practice public, on my blog, tomorrow morning.
However, I am conscious that in a competitive sales environment, sales personnel sometimes do things that are not in accord with company policy. Accordingly, I have decided to hold off on making my complaint public until tomorrow morning, and to send this email in the interim. Please forward this email to whomever in your company might wish to comment on whether lying to generate sales leads comports with Etology’s accepted business ethics and policies.
The “abuse” email address bounced, no such address. None of the others bounced. Thirty six minutes later, I had my answer. There is a {snip} in the middle; I have elided (for brevity) four more paragraphs of sales pitch about Etology’s ad brokerage services:
I know that you are upset and I apologize for the choice of words that were used in the emails below. Tailynn is fairly new and may have overstepped with her first few emails.
I would like to provide an explanation of what Etology does. We are an online ad network that pairs up advertisers and publishers. Simple as that. We broker the ads and pay the publishers 75% of all the earnings. We pay our internally managed publishers twice a month, as opposed to net 30, like other ad networks.
{snip}
I apologize again, but hope I have cleared up any misunderstandings about our service and practices. I will be here to answer any questions or address concerns that you have about our service and practices. Feel free to contact me through instant message if that is easier for you. Thank you.
Jeff Sue
Account Manager
www.etology.com
This is standard PR smoothing, consisting of an acknowledging my aggrieved status followed by a non-apology apology. The “choice of words” is apologized for, but the underlying deception? Nope. This was a matter of unfortunate phrasing, nothing more, now let me tell you how we are going to get rich together!
Those of you in the adult industry will also recognize, and be laughing at, that phrase “Tailynn is fairly new.” Whenever an adult industry company is caught spamming, shaving, stealing web page designs, or doing anything else unsavory, the standard PR response is that “it was a new employee, and we didn’t know about the behavior.” It’s such a predictable response that it’s become something of an inside joke.
To be fair, in this case I wouldn’t be surprised if the bog-standard excuse also turned out to be actually true. The bait-and-switch deception is such a phenomenally bad idea from a business standpoint that it very well might be the act of a new employee desperate and eager to make a tough sales quota. But in that case, shouldn’t I be hearing an unequivocal disavowal of the practice, and an apology for something more substantial than “choice of words”? No, Jeff said “Tailynn … may have overstepped with her first few emails.” Or maybe not; for Jeff, it’s a wobbler. Maybe we really do approve of lying to sales leads? Jeff doesn’t know; Jeff can’t say.
Of course you know I had to write back to him:
Jeff, I appreciate your email, and I’ll be including the pertinent paragraphs in the blog post I make about this matter. Unfortunately, I find your reaction to this problem to show a disturbing lack of concern.
This is not a “choice of words” issue. One of your people is *lying* to prospective business contacts. Your response fails to indicate whether Etology condones that behavior; when you say she “may have overstepped” you leave open that she may *not* have. I’m looking for an unequivocal response from Etology.com as to whether, as a matter of corporate policy, she did.
Let me be explicit. Like everyone who does business on the internet, I prioritize my email responses. Spammish emails offering me business services like your ad brokerage receive attention at a much lower priority than requests to purchase advertising. By sending a fraudulent request to buy advertising, your person is deliberately exploiting this difference in priorities — lying to get to the head of the line. Obviously, when the lie is discovered, it creates anger and resentment, along with a fundamental lack of trust that — one would think — is a problem for a company that’s expected to collect and remit funds to its publisher customers.
I used to work in an office where salesmen would lie to our receptionist, claiming to be clients, in order to get their sales calls forwarded to my desk. Obviously, they and their companies went on my permanent blacklist for this behavior. My current complaint — and my reaction to it — is analogous. But, now that we live in the era of blogs and Google, I can more easily “share my blacklist” (and the reasons for it) with the world, in the interest of making this sort of behavior off limits for reputable companies.
Accordingly, I think it would be in Etology’s best interest to disavow this marketing practice in unequivocal words.
Thanks for your time.
Writing that email forced me to figure out why I care as much about this as I do. We live in an attention economy these days, and prioritizing our attention is vital to business success. I (well, me and my filters) sort four or five thousand emails a day, most of them spam and most of the rest, bacn. Sorting out the tiny but significant fraction of business email from people who actually want to send me money? That’s a vital business function that takes a lot of time and effort. Lying to me in an effort to subvert my vital business functions? Way to piss me off.
Lying for attention is theft of attention, and it’s not just a minor offense. Time is money, and stealing one is as bad as stealing the other. If the corporate culture at Etology.com is honestly supportive of this type of deception, they are not a company I’d enjoy having to trust for a monthly check.
Jeff’s response, this morning:
I am very concerned about all customers of Etology/AVN. Without our customers being happy and satisfied, we would not exist as the largest adult ad network.
As I mentioned Tailynn is fairly new here. It was not that she was lying, it’s just that she took the wrong approach and didn’t explain herself properly (as we do offer to buy adspace out right for a flat rate). I’m sure you can understand how issues happen when you are new on a job. Regardless, the lack of information resulted in your time used on deciphering, which ultimately led to mistrust. Again, I apologize for that.
We have addressed the issue with Tailynn and management and offer our customer support to your questions and concerns.
Jeff Sue
Account Manager
www.etology.com
So there you have it, another non-apology apology, apologizing for my reaction and my “mistrust” rather than for the actual wrong done. No, wait, I forgot, Jeff says “I would like to buy advertising space” was not a lie, even though the person writing it had no intention of buying advertising space, because the company more broadly does sometimes (but not this time) “offer to buy adspace.” Sorry, Jeff, but Tailynn herself told me “I just wanted to see if there was any interest in me helping you monetize your ad space.” Tailynn herself said “I apologize for being misleading in my inquiries.” If there was ever any intention to “buy” ad space on Erosblog, I gave Tailynn three chances to say so. She never did. If Etology.com cannot recognize the deliberately deceptive bait-and-switch, and acknowledge that it was problematic, Etology.com is not a safe company to do business with.
If any other webmasters have received dishonest solicitations from Etology.com, I’d be interested in hearing about it in the comments. And especially, if there’s any adult blogger from whom Etology.com has actually bought advertising space outright (as opposed to brokering it through their network) I’d like to hear about it.
Monday, May 19th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
One of the first strong porn brands on the web was an outfit called ALS Scan, who, in the middle-late 1990s, pioneered a then-new aesthetic: the girl next door, pretty and fresh and freshly shaved all over, in a brightly-lit photoshoot with vibrant colors, doing astonishingly dirty deeds with whatever fruits, vegetables, or household objects are handy, all with a big come-hither smile. It’s not that other pornographers haven’t done the same thing before or since; it’s that ALS has always done it better than anybody else, for certain values of better.
Take Amy Lee:
She’s a pretty girl. She’s just as pretty with her shirt on (in a photo that proves she actually has arms) especially if you appreciate a girl who can cook:
So far, she’s just like a zillion other pretty internet ladies who prance around in and out of some cute undies, maybe flashing some pink at the end of the photoshoot so you don’t feel cheated out of the price of your subscription. You’ve seen it before, you’ve seen it all, ho hum.
What you’re not expecting — what nobody was expecting until ALS Scan pretty much invented the genre — is that this cute young model (who has not yet starred in half a dozen movies with names like Anal Ass-Bangers #22, and is not yet staring at the looming end of her porn career) will lick her lips with an excellent facsimile of honest lust, tuck her ankles cheerfully in behind her ears, look you straight in the eye, and use four fingers to stretch her pussy open until you’ve got a distinctly gynecological view of her assets. And yet, that’s exactly what she does.
It can be an eye-opener. And, for me at least, it makes every visit to ALS Scan a memorable one.
Tuesday, April 15th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I don’t really know how much of this to believe, even if it is a Reuters story. But I’d watch the film:
A 15-minute film of Marilyn Monroe engaging in an oral sex act with an unidentified man will be kept from public view by a New York businessman who has bought it for $1.5 million, the broker of the deal said today.
Memorabilia collector Keya Morgan said he recently arranged the sale of the silent, black-and-white film from the son of a dead FBI informant who possessed it to a wealthy Manhattan businessman who wants to protect Monroe’s privacy.
“The gentleman who bought it said out respect for Marilyn he’s not going to make a joke of it and put it on the internet and try to exploit her,” said Morgan.
“That’s not his intention and I would never get my name involved if that were to happen.”
Monroe is clothed and the man’s head remains out of the frame for the entire 15 minutes of the film, said Morgan, who viewed the footage.
Monroe was rumoured to have had an affair with former US President John F Kennedy, and Morgan said former FBI director J Edgar Hoover, a Kennedy rival, went to great lengths to try to prove it was Kennedy in the film.
One of Monroe’s ex-husbands, the late baseball great Joe DiMaggio, once tried to buy it from the collector for $25,000 (£12,500) but “he would not part with it”, according to declassified FBI files provided by Morgan.
Morgan is a well-known collector who owns memorabilia from the estates of Monroe and DiMaggio and said he was friends with Monroe’s other two husbands, Jim Dougherty and Arthur Miller.
He said he learned of the existence of the film while working on a documentary about Monroe, who died in August 1962 at age 36. A former FBI agent told him about it, and Morgan said he confirmed it by tracking down the son of the FBI informant, who had provided a copy to the FBI.
The late informant’s son had the original while the copy remains classified in the FBI files, said Morgan, whose deal was first reported by the New York Post today.
“The FBI agent that I interviewed said J Edgar Hoover was completely obsessed. A team of nine individuals were analysing the tape inside a lab. J Edgar Hoover brought in a few prostitutes who allegedly had been with President Kennedy and they tried to … see if that was really President Kennedy.”
Lots of folks would love to watch Marilyn Monroe giving a blowjob, it’s true. But a good great many would like to get a look at John F. Kennedy’s dick, too, even if they could never be quite sure.
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Monday, March 24th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
OK, so there’s been a long string of vintage and classic erotica around here lately. Is it time for something nice and modern and filthy?
Why, yes, I think it might be. Will an anal fisting “cartoon” do the trick, do you suppose?
Found this one at Spank Slaves: The Blog.
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Monday, March 10th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
This just in from the New York Times:
Gov. Eliot Spitzer has been caught on a federal wiretap arranging to meet with a high-priced prostitute at a Washington hotel last month, according to a person briefed on the federal investigation.
The wiretap recording, made during an investigation of a prostitution ring called Emperors Club VIP, captured a man identified as Client 9 on a telephone call confirming plans to have a woman travel from New York to Washington, where he had reserved a room. The person briefed on the case identified Mr. Spitzer as Client 9.
…
The man described as Client 9 in court papers arranged to meet with a prostitute who was part of the ring, Emperors Club VIP, on the night of Feb. 13. Mr. Spitzer traveled to Washington that evening, according to a person told of his travel arrangements.
Classy guy, screwing around on his wife the night before Valentine’s day, eh?
Here’s a nice photo of the family man with his wife and three daughters:
(I found that photo on an adult webmaster board along with the cruel-but-funny caption: “Daddy’s been banging some prostitutes, girls, so let’s all go to church!”)
I’ll leave the detailed analysis to Susie Bright, who really enjoys tearing into the sexual hypocrisy of conservative old white male politicians (into which camp Spitzer, though a Democrat, surely falls, thanks to his reputation as an aggressive, even rabid, law-and-order prosecutor). I’ll just say there surely must be a special circle in hell for prosecutors who enjoy a particular vice while denouncing that same vice and sending people to jail for it:
Mr. Spitzer gained national attention when he served as attorney general with his relentless pursuit of Wall Street wrongdoing. As attorney general, he also had prosecuted at least two prostitution rings as head of the state’s organized crime task force.
In one such case in 2004, Mr. Spitzer spoke with revulsion and anger after announcing the arrest of 16 people for operating a high-end prostitution ring out of Staten Island.
“This was a sophisticated and lucrative operation with a multitiered management structure,” Mr. Spitzer said at the time. â€?It was, however, nothing more than a prostitution ring.â€?
Update, courtesy Jay Leno: “In the governor’s defense, he was bringing prostitution to its knees… one woman at a time.”
Second update: Susie’s take, as anticipated.
Thursday, February 28th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
Apologies to those who find this too graphic, but there’s so much censored manga out there, it’s almost refreshing to find some so explicitly uncensored:
Via alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. anime.
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Friday, February 22nd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I’m not a comics guy, so I don’t know much about fumetti comics except that the vintage ones I keep stumbling over tend to be Italian and feature sex and violence combined in shocking and politically incorrect ways.
Lately I have several times run across the Groovy Age of Horror blog while doing Google image searches. It’s a resource for all manner of vintage pulpy wonderfulness, but the excerpted fumetti comics (complete with high quality scans of every panel) are one of the best features of the site. Example: all the good parts from Macho #3 as reprinted in Pecatti #1. You really need to follow the link, because while I’m “borrowing” Jaakko’s dry commentary in the block-quoting below, I’m only reprinting cropped and reduced details from a few panels of the artwork; the commentary-plus-complete-panels is a much more vivid experience. As Jaakko tells the story:
It’s called Il Clan Dei Centurioni (The Clan of Centurions), and it teaches us a new, fun way of defusing a stick of dynamite stuffed into a bodily orifice. Watch and learn, kids! First the bad guys chain Macho to the roof. Then they rape him, much to his delight. Then they stick a dynamite stick up his butt. Fortunately Macho is bisexual, and his girlfriend soon rushes to help him.
Wait a minute, what the hell?
Apparently this girl really loves using her mouth.
And thus, when Macho’s gay friends arrive, they find a horrifying sight: Macho is getting a blow-job… from a woman. Oh, the humanity! The End.
Saturday, February 9th, 2008 -- by Bacchus
There’s a video up at Atlanta Bondage under the title Can’t A Girl Pee In Peace? (Backup link.) I’m not going to re-publish it here, because it’s not, to my eye, erotic, nor funny either. However, it has some interesting social implications that aren’t likely to get mentioned anywhere else, there not being very many places that combine occasional social analysis with comfort in referencing a video clip featuring bare boobies and mildly kinky porn.
The “girl” in question is pretty clearly, to my eye at least, a model for one of the many porn sites that cater to the public urination fetish (subfetish category: women squatting to pee in the public streets). This model is bare breasted, smiling, and squatted-down right in the middle of some sort of street or public way (perhaps a wharf, or pedestrian mall). Here’s a cropped still from the beginning of the clip, in which I’ve highlighted the villain of the piece, to whom I am semi-arbitrarily assigning a male pronoun:
In the clip, he strides forward and kicks our incontinent heroine solidly in the ass, nearly knocking her over. The remainder of the clip shows her steadying herself with a hand, then turning and standing up to confront her attacker.
So, what’s going on here, and why is it interesting?
As it happens, I just read a piece by Chuck Klosterman in Esquire magazine about declining interest in professional boxing. As Klosterman explains it, people have lost interest in the sport of boxing because they no longer have a visceral relationship with the idea of hitting people or getting hit. A fine theory about which I have little opinion, never having been a fan myself of hitting people or being hit or watching big burly dudes do either one. But I was fascinated by Klosterman’s next line of speculation:
Now, I realize all of this is (obviously) more good than bad. I’m happy that avoiding physical confrontation has become so easy that I don’t even have to think about it. But I wonder: If the decline of boxing is the product of civilization’s detachment from physical fear, what is the accompanying downside? I think one possible answer might be a depressing brand of social overconfidence.
It is impossible to deny that the culture is coarsening. Everyone concedes this — even the people who are happy about it. It is now acceptable to say almost anything, about almost anyone, in a public space, and for no reason whatsoever. There is no line to step over, because such lines no longer exist. And I think those boundaries disappeared the moment people really, truly lost the fear of getting punched in the face. Americans have understood this intellectually for decades, but I don’t think we accepted it in totality until now. Adults are now so insulated by technology (and so protected by modernity) that the possibility of a physical consequence for any action is a psychological nonfactor. We have removed interpersonal fear from day-to-day behavior. Today, boxers are the only people who get hit for fucking up.
So, what does this have to do with our punted piddle-princess? Everything! His foot hitting her ass is a classic example of generation-gapped cultural conflict.
By my own lights, the peeing porn starlet was misbehaving. People who enjoy seeing girls peeing in public have a fetish, a modestly rare one. Most everybody else doesn’t want to see it, and they surely don’t want to step in it, or walk around it. At best, it’s horribly rude and socially transgressive to be doing what she was doing. Responsible pornographers would secure a movie set and provide sufficient extras to achieve the same visual effect without imposing their fetish on unwilling passers-by. And they would hire a dude with a mop, to clean up after.
I think it’s fair to speculate further that she and her photographer knew she was violating the social contract, but were sanguine about getting away with it. They probably worried about police intervention — perhaps they had a spotter watching for cops and ready to call a warning — but I suspect that it never occurred to her that any of the passers-by upon whom she was imposing her bare breasts and pussy and urine stream would take physical action against her to interrupt or to punish the imposition. People of her generation, or mine, just don’t do that sort of thing.
But our man (and I do think it’s a man, but I’m not sure) with the crazed white Einstein hair and the armload of files is not from our generation. He’s from a generation in which people cared a lot more about public propriety, and frequently took it upon themselves to enforce it with direct action. Doubtless he was offended by some half-naked [four letter term of derision] pissing in his path. Doubtless he considered he was doing a public service by applying a swift kick in the ass to both interrupt and punish the breach of the social contract. I have no doubt he felt good about doing it, and the way he stops and squares his stance after the kick suggests that he was ready to do it again if need be, or to stay and defend his actions otherwise. If we had an audio track, we’d be hearing somebody getting a piece of his mind about now.
So, who is really the villain of the piece? The pisser, or the kicker?
I’d like to weasel out with “a pox on both their houses”, but I need to acknowledge that it’s really not quite that simple. The trouble with enforcing social contracts with fists and feet is that social contracts aren’t really contracts, and they tend to get made up on the spot by cultural bigots and then enforced on people who never consented to them. (Don’t believe me? Ask Matthew Shepard.) I don’t really want people in my society feeling free to piss on my toes for profit, but I’m a lot more worried about living in a society where disagreements about appropriate public behavior get “settled” by sudden assault.
So, I guess my bottom line is, ix-nay on the ass-kicking. But I do agree with Klosterman that by creating a world where the ass-kicking is improbable, we’ve also created a world full of people who feel free to (metaphorically, most days) pee on your toes and tell you to go fuck yourself. That’s good more often than it’s bad, but it’s definitely a mixed blessing.
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Monday, January 21st, 2008 -- by Bacchus
The idea of a Batman squirtgun? I can live with that.
The unfortunate position of the trigger? Well, it follows from the design. I guess I can live with that, too.
But the anal refill hole?
That’s a bored toy designer seeing just how far he can take the joke before his bosses notice and fire his ass. Somewhere out there he’s saying (probably in Chinese) “I still can’t believe they actually made it, and shipped thirty thousand units!”
Wednesday, December 26th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Is there anal fisting in the Sistine Chapel? If not, did there used to be? Art historians (amateur or otherwise) are invited to weigh in!
Here’s the image:
And here’s the attribution: (via)
Michelangelo’s Punishment of Sodomy. Detail of the Last Judgement from the Sistine Chapel, 1536-1541. Source: Erotica Universalis by Gilles Néret, p. 102. Copy by Witkowski, Gustave-Joseph-Alphonse (1844-1923)
So, this image is said to be a copy by a relatively modern artist. But, a copy of what, exactly?
I’ve studied available online images of the Last Judgment as it appears in the Sistine Chapel, and no detail like this is immediately apparent. However, I know that Michelangelo made many sketches and drawings before climbing his scaffold, and I know the church has had a habit over the years of altering details of religious artworks it found inconvenient. See, e.g., the bronze underwear I blogged about when this sex blog was impossibly new.
So, is this fisting image really a copy of something Michelangelo drew or painted? And if so, does such a Michelangelo fisting image really appear in the Sistine Chapel? Inquiring minds want to know.
As it happens, I’ve got a copy of Erotica Universalis, but it’s in impossibly deep storage, and it wouldn’t help further anyway. Being essentially a catalog of ancient pornographic curiousities, its attributions cannot be expected to be unduly rigid.
My own theory is that this Witowski character actually drew a deliberately pornographic parody of Michelangelo’s sinners, rather than a copy. But there were strange things done in the history of religious art, and I’d be delighted to find out I was wrong.
Tuesday, November 6th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Bondage Blog published this photo about a month ago, calling it “a low-budget women’s prison”:
But, as commenter BrattyB points out:
It looks more like ancient sauna machines, that were supposed to make people lose weight really fast. They were all the rage around 1890.
I have long marveled at the medieval tortures women often subject themselves to in the name of beauty. (See, e.g., the references to anal bleaching in previous post.) I have also sometimes gotten in trouble for asserting that much of this voluntary self-torment is, despite the common wisdom, part of an intra-feminine status conflict that has little or nothing to do with male preference. (See, e.g., plastic fingernail overlays, aka “false nails”.) So I’m rather amused to see a beauty treatment that could easily pass for a penal imposition, or what would be just as ironic if Bondage Blog was right the first time, a penal imposition that could pass for a beauty treatment.
Sunday, November 4th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Here on ErosBlog I ignored, as I tend to, the annual frenzy of “concerned” journalists fretting about how Halloween has morphed into “Dress Like A Slut” day, ohnoes! To me, the phenomenon is obviously just a manifestation (on Halloween, how appropriate!) of the ghosts of Saturnalia and Carnival, which we in the Puritan Protestancies had taken out and shot centuries ago. I approve, as I do, of all liberating influences. Hell, I approve of nekkedness in general, so how could I glower all dour at skimpy costumes?
Surprised I therefore was to find ChelseaGirl from Pretty Dumb Things fretting on the same topic, although I’ll cheerfully grant that she did it with more thoughtfulness and nuance than any print journalist I’ve ever seen tackle the subject. Most interesting and useful in her post, I thought, was her description of a memetic landscape she calls Strip Nation:
Because this trend … also speaks to the seduction of what I’ve come to call Strip Nation.
Strip Nation is the place where little girls wear body glitter for fun, where pole dancing is a fitness pursuit, where chicks have standing appointments for monthly Brazilians, and weekly tans, French manicures and matching pedicures. It’s the place where women purposefully show bra straps and g-strings. It’s where average women have the lower-back tattoo, body piercings, and t-shirts that read “Diva” It’s the where women get breast implants, labiaplasty and anal bleaching. It’s a place where family restaurants have waitresses wearing orange short-shorts, and where drag-queen restaurants have banana deep-throat contests, and where eighteen year-old girls win them.
Strip Nation is where we live now. It’s not a bad place to live. Strip Nation gives us Carmen Electra and body butter. Strip Nation lets us shake our booty with abandon. Hell, Strip Nation, combined with Hip-Hop Nation–it’s a unified country of dual principalities–has given us the word “booty”. Without Strip Nation, we’d still be pogoing and wearing flat shoes and high-waisted pleated pants.
Strip Nation can be a lot of fun, but it’s a deeply problematic kind of fun. I am proud to have been a stripper, but I know that stripping is best kept in the strip club because stripping is about serving up a fantasy based on the most simplistic heterosexual male’s formulation of an uncomplicated woman. Most simply, Strip Nation provides a dreamscape based on a model of a two-dimensional woman and men’s desire for them. And while that is all well and fine for an eight-hour strip shift, it has major issues when it goes rampant, out into the streets, and disseminates like a virus into the culture at large.
I wonder how much women choosing to dress like a stripper for Halloween–whatever the flavor of the specific fantasy–isn’t centered on an unquestioning slide into the happy amnesia of Strip Nation: a place where men will be men, women will be girls, and no one need have a thought cross their untrammeled brows. I wonder how much the Naughty Nurse, the Sassy Satan, the Wanton Witch, the Reform School Drop Out, the Pirate Wench, and all the heaving bosom, exposed thigh rest, has more to with the prefeminist nostalgia that Strip Nation embodies. I wonder how much the naughty Halloween costume hasn’t less to do with getting one’s freak on as it does with doing so in a way that feels like you don’t have to think about it when you do.
Tomorrow, Halloween will just be a bunch of garbled stories and memories, gone for another year, But we’ll still be living in Strip Nation. Look around you, it’s everywhere. Fun, yes. But at what cost?
I think the description of Strip Nation is spot on, but I’m having trouble parsing out the objection. It seems to be something in the nature of “real life is more complicated than that”, but every cultural expression we have is idealized in one way or another; Strip Nation is a fantasy space almost by definition, and it seems odd to me to ask “at what cost?” when the full achievement of the fantasy lies as much out of our reach as do the golden shores of Brigadoon.
“You wouldn’t like to eat nothing but candy and ice cream”, warned our mothers, and we didn’t believe them. If we really lived in Strip Nation, we probably wouldn’t enjoy that either; a steady diet of oversimplified sex is probably not much better than a steady diet of high fructose corn syrup. But what’s really going on here is a whole bunch of cultural expressions reaching toward Strip Nation, but which are counterbalanced by so many other cultural anchors and drags that we’ll never reach the Strip Nation Shangri La, nor indeed get anywhere close to there. We don’t live in Strip Nation; we don’t even live next door to Strip Nation. All we do is live in a place where we can, sometimes, get away with acting as if we do live in Strip Nation.
If you grant that, is it really fair to ask “at what cost?” The only cost I see is to the competing memetic landscapes that are losing mindshare in competition with Strip Nation. I’m talking Burqa Nation, Chador and Hajib Nation, Barefoot And Pregnant Nation, Nice Girls Don’t Nation, It’s Dirty Down There Nation, Leave The Lights Off Nation, Twin Beds Nation, Save It For Marriage Nation, the entire constellation of memetic spaces in which skin must be covered, dancing must be restricted because it could lead to shagging, sex is strictly controlled, and women are (in one sense or another) chattel, not free to make their own sexual decisions.
Here in the brave new century, Strip Nation is out-competing all of those memetic spaces. Is it perfect? Heck no. Is it better? I can’t see how it isn’t. At what cost? I, for one, don’t much care, unless the cost is higher than the rolling human tragedy of the repressive memetic spaces Strip Nation is competing with and struggling to displace.
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Sunday, October 21st, 2007 -- by Bacchus
From a 1974 profile of Brian Eno, found via Bondage Blog:
His voice trails off as he spies a copy of Search magazine. He leafs through it with obvious pleasure, but the gleam in his eyes softens, and sadly he shakes his head, “It’s a burning shame that most people want to keep pornography under cover when it’s such a highly developed art form — which is one of the reasons that I started collecting pornographic playing cards I’ve got about 50 packs which feature on all my record covers for the astute observer.
“There’s something about pornography which has a similarity to rock music. A pornographic photographer aims his camera absolutely directly, at the centre of sexual attention. He’s not interested in the environment of the room.
“I hate the sort of photography in Penthouse and Playboy which is such a compromise between something to give you a hard-on and something which pretends to be artistic. The straight pornographers aim right there where it’s at.
“Which is analogous to so many other situations where somebody thinks one thing is important, so they focus completely on that and don’t realize they’re unconsciously organizing everything else around it as well. I have such beautiful pornography – I’ll show you my collection sometime.
The last guy invited me up to see his etchings.
“One theory is that black-and-white photography is always more sexy than colour photography. The reason for this is provided by Marshall McLuhan, who points out that if a thing is ‘high definition,’ which colour photography is, it provides more information and doesn’t require participation as much as if it is ‘low definition’.” I.e. a horror play on the radio is always very, very frightening because the imagery is always your own. If youUre choosing your own imagery, you’ll always choose the most frightening, or in the case of pornography, the most sexual.
“The idea of things being low definition has always interested me a lot – of being unspecific – another thing which is a key-point of my lyrics. They must be ‘low definition’ so that they don’t say anything at all direct. I think the masters of that were Lou Reed and Bob Dylan (on “Blonde on Blonde”). The lyrics are so inviting.
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT ‘burning shame’ is by the way? It’s a pornographic term for a deviation involving candles.
“Ouch!”
“Very popular in Japanese pornography. They’re always using lit candles because Japanese pornography is very sadistic, partly because of the Japanese view of women, which is a mixture of resentment and pure animal lust.
“In the traditional view, a woman is still expected to be at the beck and call of her husband, so that manifests itself in that kind of pornography. Of which I have a few examples, of course.
“Mexican pornography is an interesting island of thought because they seem to be heavily into excretory functions. The traditional American view is that anything issued from the body is dirty. It’s incredibly puritanical and it resents bodily fluids, so if one is trying to debase a woman, you cover them with that and hence you get the fabulous term ‘Golden Showers’ — the term for pissing on someone, which some well-known rock musicians are said to be very involved in…
“Here come the warm jets?”
“That’s certainly a reference.”
Sunday, October 14th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Do you ever wonder why a certain sort of pop-culture heroine attracts more male attention and romantic loyalty than seems warranted by her personality, behavior, and general level of wonderfulness?
It turns out there’s a reason. And it involves glitter.
Link via the Making Light particles.
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Thursday, October 4th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Generally when you hear a dirty limerick, you’ve heard it a thousand times before. This one was new to me:
“I like anal sex, if you please”
Said Ginger while down on her knees
“I’m firm and I’m tight,
I’m an utter delight!
And I promise that I won’t cut the cheese!”
Saturday, September 22nd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Will someone please stop me from browsing through sex toy websites? Just when I think I’ve seen it all, they come up with something like the Anal Ring Toss game:
The Anal Ring Toss game is a new twist on a traditional ring toss game.
The designated “goalie” inserts the anal plug with the attached scoring pole into the butt. The players then attempt to throw one of the 3 plastic rings onto the pole. You score when your yellow ring successfully lands around the scoring pole in the goalie’s bum.
There are no set rules to this game. A fun set of instructions is included, but players are encouraged to make their own rules. Should the goalie move and shake the ass, or stay perfectly still? It is entirely up to the ring toss players.
What does the winner get? The goalie? It is entirely up to the players.
Please toss anal rings responsibly and have fun!
That’s right, please toss anal rings responsibly!
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Wednesday, September 12th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Always Aroused Girl got asked, essentially, “why in the hell…?” More specifically, “why would a woman need anal sex, when she’s got a vagina, the ideal self-lubrified device that mother nature specially crafted for the purpose?”
She responded, in part:
Sometimes we do things not because we need to, but because we want to. Because we really REALLY want to. Because for months or even years, we’ve wanted to. Because something deep inside our tiny reptilian brains screams out in a voice that cannot be ignored, “Penetrate my bottom!”
And if you are wise, if you love your ass (and why wouldn’t you love your ass?) you will listen to that part of your brain, because (and this is the secret) ass sex feels really great to some people. It feels really great to some men and some women. It feels really great to some straight folks and some not-straight folks.
It doesn’t feel better than vaginal sex, nor does it feel worst than vaginal sex. It just feels different. It feels different in the same way that oral sex feels different than vaginal sex. It feels different in the same way that blue looks different from red. It feels different in the same way that lasagna tastes different from steak.
None of those things are intrinsically better or worse. They are just different.
If you are among those folks for whom anal sex feels really great, you’ll know what I mean, Annie. You’ll know exactly why it’s worth the effort to prepare your ass (and your mind) for anal sex. You’ll know exactly why you devote the time to working with your partner toward anal sex.
You do it because buttsex feels really great, and it feels really great to share that really great feeling with your partner.
And the only way you’ll know if you are one of the folks who loves anal sex is if you try anal sex.
But Annie, please don’t have anal sex until you know you want to try. When you are ready to try, a small voice in your head will start begging. You’ll be enjoying your traditional sexual activities when suddenly you’ll hear, “Play with me, please!”
And you’ll discover that it’s your ass begging for attention. If that happens, consider exploring buttsex.
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Friday, June 22nd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
This has to be a troll / prank post. It has to be. Please, nobody could be so stupid, it has to be.
Please?
If it were real, it would be the ultimate answer to that “why are men always chasing those dumb bimbos, the ones so dumb they can’t breathe without reminders” complaint you sometimes hear from smart women:
I have a really flat butt. My boyfriend read that anal sex will help make it bigger, but only if he shoots his sperm deep inside. We used to have anal sex sometimes. He always wore a condom before. Now we have anal sex and he shoots really deep inside me and i keep it there.
I think I like this even if it doesn’t make my butt biggerer. He says my butt does look bigger, but I can’t tell. Has anyone else heard of thjis? Will his sperms in my butt make it bigger?
Via Sexoteric.
Saturday, June 16th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Did you know anal tourism was a big deal in academia?
A female undergrad walks up to the desk for help.
“Hi, I’m looking for anal tourism research.” She says.
I could not have heard her correctly.
“Um, what?” I reply.
“I’m looking for anal tourism research.”
Like Thailand and Vegas? “I think there is a typo.” I counter.
“No, my professor was very specific about anal.”
I don’t ask if there was an oral exam. “We can take a look, but I don’t think that’s right.”
“Please? Anal research is important, I need it bad.”
I start searching in the catalogue, typing in ‘annal’ to end this.
“It’s anal, A-N-A-L. Anal was at the top of the list of the things he wanted.”
I bet it was. “We don’t have it under that listing.”
“Well, how can I get Anal Tourism Research?”
Some Barry White, some K-Y, some minor discomfort.
“How about we try some variant spellings?”
“But I want anal.”
“Please trust me on this.” I don’t want my boss to walk over while she shouts “I want anal!” again.
“Here we go, Annals of Tourism Research.”
“But, anal…”
“Is something very different.”
I could see the dawning in her eyes as she made the connection.
“I, anal, oh my god.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Even when coeds are begging for me to give them anal, I’m still a professional.
From The Society of Librarians Who Say “Motherfucker”. (I found it here.)
Sunday, May 13th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
If you’ve seen Warm Water Under A Red Bridge, you’ll know the Japanese understand their shio.
If you haven’t, you’ll be going “Shio? What’s shio?”
Apparently, that was Momo’s question also. Fleshbot has a skilled cross-cultural operative to explain it all to us:
Fleshbot operative KokuRyu … reports:
“I came across an unknown Japanese word today in a YouTube video that appeared to be a high school chemistry lesson conducted by a sexy Japanese porn startlet named Momo (Peaches) wearing nothing but a frilly pink bra, perhaps from Peach John.
“I knew the word, shio, means “tide” or “salt water” in Japanese. But what was the shio in the glass beaker? I asked my wife, who’s Japanese. Instead of getting angry with me for looking at porn, Mrs. KokuRyu smirked and said, ‘It’s when a woman, goes puri puri, like the spout of a whale. You know, shio fuki. It’s when a woman squirts.’
“Suddenly the YouTube clip made sense! Glowing with post-orgasmic serenity, Peaches admires the clear liquid–her liquid — collected in the beaker. Peaches then decides to analyze her shio. She sniffs it, reports it doesn’t smell, and proceeds to tests its consistency; Peaches says her shio feels silky smooth. When litmus paper is produced, shio is determined to have alkaline properties.
“Next, gripping an elaborate, slightly phallic spoon, Peaches measures the salt content of her shio. Apparently, it’s less than 0.6%. Peaches then delicately inserts her slender index finger, moistened slightly with the liquid contents of the petri dish, between her lips. She finds that shio is basically tasteless, and not a little slimy. Peaches concludes by saying she enjoyed the opportunity to investigate her shio.
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Friday, April 6th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Since ErosBlog doesn’t do politics, I haven’t posted about the current scandal involving a lying attorney general and the eight U.S. Attorneys fired — as CNN so delicately puts it — for being “insufficiently partisan.” But I’ve thought it odd that the television news has consistently covered this story without reporting, or even speculating, on exactly what it was that these prosecutors did — or didn’t — do, that caused them to incur the wrath of the president at whose pleasure they serve.
The reason, it turns out, is porn. Specifically, mainstream commercial porn involving consenting adults. The common thread binding these eight prosecutors is their refusal to prosecute commercial pornographers (often because they lacked the resources to prosecute the much uglier child porn cases on their desks, or because they understand that prosecuting mainstream porn is a great way to lose cases in today’s America.)
I toyed with the idea of a post with all the details, but it felt too much like work, and I’ve been busy. Fortunately, Susie Bright’s a lot more industrious — and a much better and more prolific writer — than I am, and she’s done the work. Sample:
Do you know what the eight fired prosecutors have in common?
All of them declined to press obscenity charges on cases that the DOJ was desperately running up a flagpole without success.
Now, why? – since we know these prosecutors are Republicans who would love to win a solid case– why would they frown on pursuing such charges?
Bush’s DOJ Porno Task Force told the prosecutors to go after X-rated entertainment companies who make adult, consensual productions–grown-ups with contracts! This time, the focus was supposed to be on subject material like piss, scat, bestiality, and… S/M. They were counting on a big “ick” factor!
But the Super-8 aren’t all that stupid, and they know what happens in obscenity trials when you go after the 1st Amendment. They could paper the White House with case history. They won’t chase these clown cars, because, as Paulie Walnuts might put it, “they’re weak, they’re out of control, and… an embarrassment to yourself and everyone else.”
What the hell is an “S/M” video, after all? Are you going to go after Hollywood for releasing 9 1/2 Weeks? Any defense lawyer worth his salt is going to bring in Pasolini’s Salo, portraits of Abu Gharib victims, and documentaries on cattle insemination to pose the question: What is context? What about taste? What crime has been committed? Legitimate film producers, be they “adult,” mainstream, or hybrid, are not going to take it lying down.
You know when President Reagan went after porn in the 80s, he told his Attorney General, Edwin Meese, to focus on gay sex, anal sex, and black-white couples– and to charge them in Texas. And it still backfired.
Better yet, Susie’s got links to the pertinent investigative reporting.
Comments Off on The Hidden Porn Scandal
Monday, March 26th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
From a sex basics article for “guy virgins” about the practicalities of sex you don’t learn by reading, or by watching porn:
Messiness
You probably know this already, but overall sex is messier than what you see on TV or in porn.
- You’re going to get hot and sweaty of course.
- The woman’s lubrication is going to dribble all over the place and possibly stain the sheets. Someone is going to get semen on them at some point. Condom wrappers are going to litter the ground. You may kiss passionately and slobber all over each other.
- Sometimes when you’re doing a girl she’ll fart. I heard it has something to do with the thrusting pushing air into her abdomen but don’t quote me.
- Sometimes when you pull out and she changes positions she’ll fart out her pussy (queefing).
- If you have sex when she’s on her period, well use your imagination.
- If you have anal sex you may get some poo on your dick.
- If you have a good session, when you’re done you’re going to be sweaty, red faced, tired, and a bit out of it. Your hair will be messed up, gross stray hairs will be stuck to your skin, the girl will have a bit of white goop running out of her cootch. You’ll have a bit of cum dribbling out of your dick. There will be at least one condom wrapper on the floor, the sheets and pillows will be all over the place, and the bed will have a wet spot on it. If you cuddle after you’ll start to stick together and it’ll feel gross when you pull apart. It’s great.
Link via Sexoteric.
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Wednesday, March 21st, 2007 -- by Bacchus
From The Dilbert Blog:
Researchers asked people to write essays in support of a random point of view they did not hold. Months later, when surveyed, the majority held the opinion they wrote about, regardless of the topic. Once a person commits an opinion to writing — even an opinion he does not hold — it soon becomes his actual opinion. Not every time, but MOST of the time. The people in these experiments weren’t exposed to new information before writing their contrived opinions. All they did was sit down and write an opinion they didn’t actually have, and months later it became their actual opinion. The experiment worked whether the volunteers were writing the pro or the con position on the random topic.
Most of the truly stupid things done in this world have to do with this consistency principle. For example, once you define yourself as a loyal citizen of Elbonia, you do whatever the King of Elbonia tells you to do, no matter how stupid that is. And your mind invents reasons as to why dying is a perfectly good life strategy.
This research provides a surefire method for readers of the Dilbert Blog to improve their sex lives. Go down to the local mall with a clipboard and pretend to be doing a research experiment. Offer $1 to attractive people who will write a paragraph describing how incredibly sexy you are. (Based on the research, you should offer a low dollar amount so people don’t think they did it entirely for the money.) Tell participants that the research has to do with handwriting analysis of people who are writing opinions they do not believe. Stop after you get 100 people to do it. That’s less than the cost of one meal at an upscale restaurant.
Give the participants your e-mail address and tell them they can get the results of the research study in a month if they contact you. According to the science, about two-thirds of the people who wrote a paragraph on your sex appeal will strongly believe it a month later, no matter how hideous you are. And a few of those people will remember to e-mail you for the results. You’ll still have to close the deal, but I think we can agree that I just did the hard work for you.
Thanks to Sexoteric for the link.
Friday, February 23rd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Outside of the hentai realm you don’t see a lot of science fiction pornography, and what you do see is usually hilariously awful. I’m not sure exactly why that is, given all the fun you could have with big hard shiny implacable stainless steel sex robots and lustful tentacle-y aliens and autonomous anal probes and mind control rays and force whips and … oh, wait, am I talking out loud here?
Moving rapidly along.
Anyway, the folks at FuckingMachines.com may not be making science fiction, but they do understand the attraction of cruel implacable hard steel sex robot machinery and the considerable advantages of the indefatigable electric motor. Nor do they shrink from restraining mere human flesh when it might otherwise flinch away from and thus miss out on the intense mechanical pleasures of the machine age. In space, it is said, no one can hear you scream. But why go all the way to space when you can achieve the same effect with a high quality latex vacuum bondage bed?
Princess Leia in chains was cute. Han Solo in carbonite was novel. But this, I submit, would have been a better fate for either one of them, and would have immensely livened up the movie theater of my youth. Besides, wouldn’t old Jabba the Hut have enjoyed the heck out of a implacable robotic tongue-saw?
Science fiction this may not be, but it sure is entertaining!
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Thursday, February 15th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Double penetration is all well and good, but when the anal sex guy strikes milk, watch out! It’s a gusher!
I swear, that well’s gonna be good for at least thirty barrels a day….
Tuesday, January 23rd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
OK, I used that title just so I could pick on it. But first, the vintage porn:
Now, what’s wrong with my title? In general, there’s a number of reasons why I don’t normally throw the word “lesbian” around loosely when characterizing what Rick Santorum might call “woman on woman” porn.
First of all, there’s the moron factor. Thirty years of greasy-idiot pornographers shouting “Hot Lesbo Fucking!” every time they get two naked ladies in the same photographic frame has sort of polluted the swimming pool.
At a deeper level, even when you’ve got two women actually doing sexual things to each other in a photograph, it’s never clear to me that you’ve got enough information to attach that “lesbian” label. Yeah, lesbian women have sex with each other (by all reports, anyway, I haven’t witnessed it with my own eyes) but even with my dim and primitive grasp of gender politics, I’m reasonably confident that there might be greater depth to lesbian identification. I don’t think you can reliably attach labels like that based on photographic evidence alone.
And finally, there’s the fundamental deceit present in all posed photographic art. Porn models tend to do what they’re paid to do, and it doesn’t say much about who they are. Calling a woman a lesbian because she poses sexually with another woman is like calling an author a Catholic because he writes a story with a priest in it.
Which is really my point about this picture. The suggestive touching is one thing, but I’m not seeing any enthusiasm in the faces of the models. Which would make this bad lesbian porn, if lesbian porn it were.
Over-analyze much? Why, yes thank you, I don’t mind if I do.
Wednesday, January 17th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Something about these naughty “student nurses” examining each other made me smile. They are so fresh-faced and earnest!
From Little Mutt.
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Sunday, December 3rd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
This anecdote from The Butterfly Temptress gives a whole new meaning to the phrase “buttering her up”:
His kisses became more insistent and soon we were naked in the moonlight. He’s not big on foreplay but just being close to him was doing enough to warm me up. I laid against him and stroked his hard cock, wishing for all I was worth that I could have him inside of me but I knew it couldn’t happen. He’d never go for making love in my parents house.
He whispered into my ear “I want to be in you. I need to be in your ass.”
I thought I misheard him. I giggled and moved to put my mouth on him. Oral sex wasn’t intercourse, so it didn’t count as sex, right? Yeah right. I was willing to tell myself anything to keep from feeling guilty for being such a hot little whore.
“Get the lube out of the suitcase and hurry up.”
I let his cock slip from my lips and I mumbled something about not packing it because he told me not to worry about it. He pulled me up where I could repeat it again. Then I mentioned that there might be Vaseline in the bathroom in an attempt to keep him in the mood while I thought of something else.
“Go look then come back. I want to fuck your ass so bad.”
I wrapped a blanket around me sarong style and tiptoed into the bathroom. On my hands and knees I rummaged under the sink without success. The medicine cabinet was also without Vaseline or anything that would have worked as lubricant. Knowing full well that I was out of luck, I dashed back to the bedroom to report in.
“There wasn’t anything? Not even baby oil?” he asked in a tone that told me he was quickly losing patience.
I giggled for a minute then replied, “We could always use butter. Or vegetable oil. Maybe even Crisco shortening.” I collapsed against him in a fit of full out laughter. The thought of fucking with baking supplies cracked me up.
“Go get some. Butter or vegetable oil, I don’t care. I’m going to fuck your ass.”
I didn’t believe him until he swatted me on the ass. Then I dressed in my pajama shirt and went to the kitchen. It was quiet as a tomb and I was sure that Mama would appear any minute and ask what I was doing with my hand in her butter bowl. I scooped a rather large amount onto a paper towel then scampered back to our room. For the love of God, I knew right then and there that I was going to hell.
Not only was I about to fornicate in my parents house, I was unmarried. To top it all off, I was about to have unmarried butt sex in my parents house. Now you tell me how the world I was going to answer for that on Judgment Day?
He kissed me full on the mouth and took the paper towel from my hand. My cunt was dripping wet and I wanted him more than ever. I needed him.
He urged me onto all fours and situated himself between my legs. I felt the slippery coolness of the Blue Bonnet at my opening as he fingered my ass. Doing something so shameless made me hotter than I’d been in a long time and he knew it. His breathing was as erratic as mine and I knew that once he had his beautifully buttered cock in my ass he would fill me to overflowing in no time.
With minimal thrusting his cock was in me. Though it was odd, the knowledge that I was having buttered butt sex, it was more comfortable than anal sex had ever been. I felt every twitch, every pulse of him as he worked his manhood in and out of me.
In a matter of seconds we were both on the edge. I felt his slippery fingers slide against my clit and my cunt began to milk his cock in earnest. Moments later he came harder than I can ever remember him coming before.
He laid beside me as I cleaned his now relaxed cock. My body was on fire and my heart was full of love for the man who had just once again helped me check off yet another item on my “To Do Before I Die” list. As he pulled me onto his chest and we drifted off to sleep I couldn’t help but wonder how many other people had intimate and literal knowledge of being buttered up.
Thanks to Sexoteric for the link.
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Tuesday, November 14th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
OK, all you enema fetishists, here’s a rare picture for you. Little hints like the flying shoe suggest that this is some sort of colonic intervention — an anal mugging, if you will:
Of course the ladies in charge of the business seem to be in cheerful high spirits.
Wednesday, November 1st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Yes, she’s arguably gilding the lily. Heck, she says as much herself, it’s hardly a secret. But sometimes a little gilt paint helps rock the world.
We’re talking, of course, about a pile of advanced blowjob tips from Pretty Dumb Things, with a side order of suggested anal/oral entertainment:
The paper frills on the ends of the lamb chops aren’t necessary, but they’re nice. The umbrella in your adult beverage doesn’t make it taste any better, but it’s festive. The balconette push-up bra doesn’t really give you perkier breasts, but it’s alluring. None of these things–not the paper frills, the wee umbrella, the naughty lingerie–actually makes the decorated item any better, but they seem as if they do. The lamb chop seems more succulent; the frozen piña colada appears more decadent; the breasts look as if they’re ripe for the plucking.
In the spirit of sexy similitude, let me present you with a few things you can do that will put the icing on the cake, the gild on the lily, the pastie on the nipple, if you will, of your blow job.
…
Eyes on the Prize: One thing a dude likes is if you look as if you’re enjoying sucking his dick. One way you can perform your enjoyment is to make eye contact. Especially at the beginning of the blow job, before you’re getting all hot and heavy and the guy’s eyes are lolling back in his head in full-on pleasure mode, get yourself in a position to look at him over the head of his cock as it rubs against your lips, as your tongue twirls around its head, as it slowly enters your mouth. It’s not something you can–or want–to spend your entire blow job doing, but it’s a great beginning, or a fine punctuation in the middle, especially if you want to slow things down while simultaneously heating things up.
Say It With Me, “Pruneâ€?: When Marilyn Monroe wanted to make the perfect kissy mouth for photos, she said, “prune,â€? as legend as it. Your turn to be a siren. Say “pruneâ€? and see what your lips do. Now put a nice tumescent cock in front of your mouth and say it over and over, each time more lasciviously. Let your tongue escape like a naughty little wet monkey and flick at the rim of your man’s cock head. Imagine you’re French, and say it again.
You can also wrap the head of the cock in your lips and make tiny, fluttering sucking motions with your mouth as you slowly pop the cock out of your mouth to say “Pruneâ€? again. “Dried Plumâ€? just doesn’t have the same erotic resonance.
Und so weiter.
Monday, October 9th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Via Boing Boing comes word that persistent hiccups (no laughing matter, some people have them for years, and can’t even swallow solid food because of it) can sometimes be stopped via “digital rectal massage”:
A 60-year-old man with acute pancreatitis developed persistent hiccups after insertion of a nasogastric tube. Removal of the latter did not terminate the hiccups which had also been treated with different drugs, and several manoeuvres were attempted, but with no success. Digital rectal massage was then performed resulting in abrupt cessation of the hiccups. Recurrence of the hiccups occurred several hours later, and again, they were terminated immediately with digital rectal massage. No other recurrences were observed.
One imagines that a finger is not the only appendage that would work, which immediately makes me think of a great approach for those of you whose main squeeze has painted on the stop sign. Next time they get the hiccups that won’t go away, forget the drink of water, the brown paper bag, the sudden scare. Instead, say “Honey, I know a sure cure…”
Thursday, September 21st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
A woman inquired recently in the comments on another post what the big deal is, with the whole anal sex thing. Of which I was reminded, when I found a woman with an enthusiastic answer:
I love having my ass filled. The plug we have, although adequate, could be a bit bigger. When I read about vibrating plugs, my little sphincter reacts with a happy twinge. The feeling of cold lube touching the rim of my ass is so divine. The first finger inserted changes the rate of my heart, I find my entire being focused on the sensations I’m receiving and the ecstasy that will soon follow. The first resistance as MoJo’s cock slides in to meet my tight ring prompts me to relax and welcome him into my body. God, I love having my ass filled.
From the Giardino Del Piacere archives.
Thursday, September 14th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Ok, ok, sometimes we men are pigs. Certainly the old “Oops, I slipped it in the wrong hole” game never won us any style points, nor good anal either. But ladies, c’mon — isn’t this going a little too far in the other direction?
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Thursday, September 14th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Editorial Note as of 2015: This FAQ is obsolete in many respects. My apologies. — Bacchus
I get asked a lot of questions (both by email and in my comments) and some of them are Frequently Asked Questions. So, for ease of future reference, here’s a FAQ. Comments are welcome.
Erosblog FAQ Table of Contents:
Linking Questions: How do I get an ErosBlog link?
Moderation Questions: What happened to my comment?
Attribution Questions: What’s the source of this?
Advertising Questions: Can I buy a link or banner?
Press Queries: Can I interview you?
BLOG LINKING
Question: Would you like to exchange links?
Answer: Sorry, but almost certainly not. I don’t “trade” links. No, really, I almost never do. I link to sites I think my readers might like, and I encourage you to do the same. As Guy Kawasaki puts it:
I don’t get this “exchanging links” thing. IMHO, you should link to a blog if you believe it’s good for your readership. The other blogger should link to back your blog if she believes it’s good for her readership. In a perfect world, linking is about quality, not reciprocation.
A link trade offer translates to: “I don’t really like your site enough to link to it. If I did, I’d already have your link up. But, even though your site isn’t worth linking to, I’ll do it anyway… if you’ll link back.”
Sorry, but if that’s how you feel, I’m not interested.
Question: So, if you don’t do link exchanges, how do I get my new blog listed on ErosBlog?
Answer: So sorry, but you probably don’t. So many new blogs start strong and promising, but they fade after a few posts, or after a few weeks, or after a few months. Most of the “new” blogs I add to my blogroll have been going strong for a year or more. Otherwise, the link maintenance chore of deleting moribund blogs gets completely out of hand.
An exception to this is if I catch myself doing multiple posts about a newer blog. If I like your blogging enough to link it a few times, your blog will probably wind up on my blogroll. No linkback required, although it never hurts — nobody’s immune to flattery.
Question: OK, but I’ve been blogging for awhile. If you don’t trade links, what do I have to do to get a link on ErosBlog?
Answer: The honest answer is that you have to tickle my fancy with your blog. But I can’t define how to do that. I can, however, offer some “Do” and “Don’t” tips. This is not some dictatorial manifesto, these are not hard and fast “rules” I pulled out of my ass, these are just advice, heavily colored by my idiosyncratic blogging tastes:
-
DO send me an email linking to a recent blog post you made that you think I might like, with a sentence about what it’s about. I probably won’t answer your mail, but I frequently do look at these, when I have time. It’s the best way to get me to look at your blog, much better than just sending a link and saying “Please have a look.”
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DO link to me. I know that sounds hypocritical, when I don’t do link exchanges, but it’s really not. A link is a compliment, whereas a link trade offer is a veiled insult. Compliments work, and flattery will get you everywhere. Plus, I do read my logs with great curiosity, so having traffic coming from your blog is guaranteed to get me looking at it.
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DO participate in the ErosBlog comments. Write substantive comments, ones with multiple sentences or even paragraphs, to distinguish yourself from the drive-by “Hot pic!” link droppers. If your comments are valuable, they will be noticed, and I’ll be clicking your link to see what else you have to say.
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DO make sure your site looks like a blog. Too much advertising (as in, I can’t find your blog posts for all the flashing banners, or the first post appears “below the fold” because of your “above the fold” advertising) discourages linking. So does not having a blogroll. As the adult blogging tips at Spanking Blog put it: “I get tons of link requests from ‘bloggers’ who don’t link to anybody. They use blog software, and they write something every day, but they don’t participate in the blogging community. They don’t link to anyone and they don’t have a blog roll. I don’t understand this mentality. I mean, why would you ask other people to link to you, if you can’t be bothered to link to anyone else?”
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DON’T (oh, please don’t) “ask permission” to link to my blog. Everyone in the world should already know that the fundamental root reason for putting something on the internet is to invite people to link to it. If I didn’t want links, you couldn’t link to me. If you can see me, you already have permission to link to me. And so, after the first thirty or so, these “May I link to you?” requests begin to look and feel like a sneaky passive-aggressive way of saying “please look at my blog.” If that’s what you want, you’re way better off just saying so.
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DON’T hope for a link if your ‘blog’ is a spammy porn blog with no content. I don’t have anything against porn, but most porn blogs are boring. If all you’ve got is generic porn thumbnails, tired porn marketing text (“look at this hot bitch fingering her slut mom”), and links to pay sites, don’t bother. Of course, if you’ve got entertaining commentary about the porn, that’s a whole different ball game. Blogs featuring high-quality carefully-selected porn in an intelligent way also have a shot, if the advertising is kept to a reasonable dull roar.
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DON’T ask for a free link if you know you should really be inquiring about advertising rates. Do you have a marketing program and/or an advertising budget? Is your site or blog principally for the purpose of selling something or drawing attention to your products? Are advertisements or marketing materials the most prominent thing on your site? If so, you should be asking me about ad rates.
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DON’T be a drive-by link-dropper. Link droppings are not attractive, and we try not to step in them. By link dropping, I mean leaving comments like “Hot!” or “Nice pic!” or “Cool!” — stuff that’s shorter than the URL you so carefully typed into the box provided. Lots of new bloggers do this; it’s the lazy spam version of the “Do participate in the comments” advice above. Trouble is, once you are in my head as a spamming link dropper, the odds of me ever visiting your site (much less linking to it) decline toward zero. Good comments usually take the form of short paragraphs, not sentence fragments.
COMMENT MODERATION
Question: Why did you delete/moderate my comment?
Answer: Most likely because you weren’t nice. I ask ErosBlog commenters to be civil, friendly, polite, nice. And I enforce that. We don’t welcome flaming, aggressive debating style, snark, or even strong sarcasm. Yes, I do break these rules myself, sometimes. But I live here.
You may also have been moderated for substance (or, more usually, lack of it.) If your comment was condemning any sexual practice or kink, suggesting that anybody or anything is “sick”, calling anybody names, saying something rude about someone’s physical appearance, inviting people to visit your own website, or saying anything at all that’s got nothing to do with the post the comment is made under, that would explain why you don’t see it.
Sharing your fanciful sexual intentions (“I’d like to jump her bones, heh heh”) is another good way to get your comment moderated, especially when done crudely. (Explanation) Also, we don’t play the “Is it real or is it Photoshop?” game here, because (a) comments that a photo is not real tend to expressly or implicitly imply that the commenter is smarter and more perceptive than whoever posted the photo, which is rude, and (b) such comments lead to flamewars because everybody has an opinion, but nobody has any data. Even a friendly reservation (“I’m not sure if that’s real, but if it is…”) will often get moderated, because it invites twenty-seven unwelcome comments on the “real or Photoshop” topic.)
Here are some posts I’ve made over the years about my moderation policy:
Don’t Be A Dick
Condemnators Redux
Crapping All Over Beauty
Sure Cure For Spammers
A Note For Our New Spammers (by Aphrodite)
Blogging Without Comments
Cracking Down On Handcrafted Comment Spam
Spam Robot Finally Rolls 00 Versus Turing
Trying Harder At The Turing Test
Civilization, Assholes, and Internet Communities
ATTRIBUTION QUESTIONS
Question: Where did you find the picture you just posted? Is there a link? What’s the source of this?
Answer: I actually get a little offended by these questions, and they usually don’t make it through moderation. Since October of 2002 I’ve been faithfully posting and linking. If I know the source of something, I post the link. Without fail. Either the link where I got it, or the original source (if I know it) plus a link to where I found it. Every. Damned. Time.
You don’t see a link? It’s because I don’t freakin’ have one.
How is that possible? Well, let’s see. First of all, people mail me stuff and ask not to be credited. Or, there’s the fact that I’ve been downloading dirty pictures from Usenet and the web since about 1994. Right-click-and-save-to-hard-drive has been a reflex for more than a decade. These days, if I think “I’m gonna blog this” I’ll make sure to save source info too, but that doesn’t help with the half million images I accumulated before I started blogging.
If there’s no link provided, it’s because I don’t have one. OK?
Question: Do you know where I can find more pictures like the one you posted?
Answer: No. If I did, there’d probably be a link. Otherwise, Google is your friend.
Question: Will you please email me some porn?
Answer: Hell no. Use Google. Sheesh! (I actually get this one at least once a week.)
ADVERTISING INQUIRIES
Question: Can I buy a link or a banner?
Answer: Sure! Just drop me an email with the site you’d like to advertise, and I’ll send you a rate sheet. Or just check the sidebars for “your ad here” style links — more and more of my advertising space is being sold through brokers these days. The exception is probably text links. For these, please be prepared to buy at least six months of advertising at a time, and to pay in advance at rates that exceed the cost of brokered banner space. If you’re selling sex-negative or dangerous or worthless crap — herbal penis pills, breast enlargement creme, porn for the audience that despises women — please don’t bother. And don’t even ask if you want to buy generic “keyword” anchor text; I don’t blind link my users to random destinations for any price, and “sex toys” or “free cams” doesn’t tell them enough about where they are going. You’ll probably need to put your brand somewhere in the link, so the link looks like the kind of links human beings actually post and use.
Question: Would you like to join my affiliate program and then put up my banner for free?
Answer: Almost certainly not. Most affiliate programs suck, especially the cookie-cutter ones that use “standard” affiliate software. The stats reporting is bad, the percentage paid is bad, the affiliate program software is rude or clueless or tailored for non-adult sites, the terms of service are ridiculous and one-sided or unfit for bloggers, or the product is bad.
On the other hand, there are a handful of adult businesses that have unique products, great customer service, a sex-positive attitude, a strong brand or reputation — if that describes your company, and you have an affiliate-friendly program too, by all means let me know about it. If, however, you’ve already asked and the response you got was a link to this FAQ, it’s because your program is covered by the paragraph above.
Question: Can I buy a blog post talking about my site / product / event / whatever?
Answer: Email me. It’s possible. But it’s not cheap, and there’s always an identifying “sponsored post” banner so readers will know what’s going on. I won’t shill for your product and pretend I’m just blogging normally; that’s not an advertising service that ErosBlog will provide.
Question: Would you like to review my product?
Answer: If it’s a virtual / downloadable thing, no. There’s just no time, and it amounts to unpaid work for me.
However, if it’s a physical thing (a sex toy, DVD, book, or whatever) you might have a shot. The Nymph and I enjoy getting free stuff in the mail. Reviews are not guaranteed, but if you do get one, you can count on it taking forever. I’d guess we (eventually) review about twenty percent of the stuff that gets sent for review, so you’re taking a chance. Email for the review item shipping address. [2012 update: We do almost no reviews now. But we still like to play with free sex toys if they are sufficiently unique. And there’s always that chance that you’ll get a mention if your product is sufficiently impressive. So, sending review stuff is almost certainly a losing game, but if you’re an optimist or really confident about your product, it might be worth a try.]
PRESS INQUIRIES AND INTERVIEWS
Question: I’d like to interview you for my blog or publication. Is that possible?
Answer: Sure. Email me. But before you contact me, you might want to have a look at the interviews I’ve already given:
Interview With Bacchus (Sunni’s Salon)
The Buccaneer of Bacchanalia (Susie Bright)
Understanding Humankind (Atrocidades)
Revision History:
9/14/06 – FAQ first published
10/16/06 – added sentence about moderation of feedback on photos
10/24/06 – added sentences about prohibition on “real or Photoshop” game
7/20/07 – added Guy Kawasaki link exchange quote
3/6/12 – numerous updates
Monday, September 11th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
There’s an astonishing firestorm of controversy swirling around a recent event in which someone (male) posted a woman-seeking-sex personal ad on Craigslist. The responses, including the usual spectrum of cock pictures, were collated and made public on a wiki, along with all the contact information provided by respondents. There seems to be an ongoing effort to develop the wiki to more fully “out” the folks who responded, augmenting their information with whatever else can be found out about them from public sources and from those who may know them.
Predictably, all hell has broken loose. Details available from BoingBoing, Violet Blue, and many other sources. The most popular sentiment appears to be that this was a horrid and hateful thing to do.
But was it?
I find myself unable to get very worked up about this. Indeed, I can see a positive side. This might even be a good thing for the online sex personals ecosystem.
I’m reasoning thusly: Online sex personals are, by all reports, a toxic ecosystem. Serious seekers after sex partners, especially female ones, have to wade through an astonishing volume of bizarre, ugly, inappropriate responses in order to find the few “real” responses. For example, a woman emailed BoingBoing with this description, which sounds typical of many other accounts I’ve read:
I’ve posted a few “Casual Encounters” ads at different times looking for various things. The first ad alone received over 300 replies. Some of them were beyond repugnant — the bestiality proposition springs to mind. The majority were unappealing but mundane — people who just didn’t dance the same way I do, mentally speaking, didn’t know how to compose a well-thought-out email or articulate themselves attractively. Those were ones like the one-liner “yo, hit me on MSN”, that kind of thing. I received a lot of dickpix. Then, there were a tiny fraction that drew me in and showed me that as much consideration had gone into their reply as I put into my original post. Those were people I connected with, corresponded with (from a gmail account), and eventually met.
Speaking to all men, let me say this: Mailing a potential female sex partner an unsolicited picture of your dick is not appropriate, it’s not smart, it doesn’t work, it brands you as a vulgar idiot, and it makes all men look bad by gender association with your fucked-up self. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. I repeat, don’t do it. Man law, got it?
So I have no, none, zero, zip, nada, a distinct absence and lack, of sympathy for the guys who are pissing in the well with these inappropriate responses.
Why do they do this? Well, one reason is that they can get away with it. It “feels” anonymous, there’s a perceived zero cost, it’s like socially-approved flashing because nobody sees you except someone who (faintly, theoretically, but not really) “was asking for it.”
Well, guess what? It’s not as anonymous as it feels. As proven by the events prompting this post.
What happened here is that the flasher creeps have been exposed in public, for everyone to point and laugh at. That’s a bad thing? I don’t see how. If it becomes routine, maybe they’ll stop.
Folks who feel differently seem to feel that there’s been a betrayal of some reasonable expectation of privacy, some unwritten social contract that has been protecting these virtual flashers. Huh? If there’s any expectation of privacy in a picture of your johnson that you send to a most-likely-uninterested recipient, it sure as heck isn’t a reasonable expectation.
But what about the few serious, non-offensive responders caught up in this same net? What about the “tiny fraction that drew me in and showed me that as much consideration had gone into their reply as I put into my original post” guys?
I still don’t think they have any reasonable expectation of privacy in their responses, but much more importantly, I don’t see how they were harmed by this exercise. A guy that’s free to be looking for sex on the internet, who writes an inoffensive “you sound like a fun lady, I’d like to get together” letter, how is he harmed? Now the world knows that he’d like to meet women and have sex. The world did not suspect this already? Where is the harm?
My bottom line is that this is just like the old advice from your mother, about not leaving the house while wearing dirty underwear, because you could get hit by a truck and somebody might see it. To me it seems only sensible: don’t write personals responses that you wouldn’t want to see on the front page of the newspaper. Because, in the final analysis, email sent to strangers is an essentially public medium. Argue about whether it ought to be public, we may — but change the fact that it is public, I don’t think we can. (Whoops, Yoda moment, sorry.)
This is not a manifesto, I’m not walking way out on a limb in defense of these opinons. These are merely my preliminary reactions to an interesting story. I don’t use personals myself, so I don’t have a dog in this fight. Judging by the firestorm sweeping the net over this, emotions run hot. Agree or disagree, I’d like to remind everyone who might wish to comment here on ErosBlog that the comments are heavily moderated, and your input needs to be civil and friendly or it simply won’t be seen.
Saturday, September 9th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I know I’ve been quoting Susie Bright a lot recently, but then, Susie always has been a woman with a lot to say. Her latest big essay grabs firmly ahold of the seeming paradox of women and their rape fantasies:
I didn’t acknowledge having perilous fantasies until I was in my twenties. In a women’s studies college course, our teacher asked us if we had experienced arousing “rape fantasies”?
One girl tearfully raised her hand and said this was true for her. My heart beat so fast it was all I could do to stay put. I was just as ashamed as she of these fantasies, but I would never have admitted them. Our professor was quite kind to her, if misinformed.
Our professor comforted the girl by saying that, as women, we had been brainwashed by the patriarchy to eroticize our subordination to men. She said these fantasies were very common, which is true, and that we could “overcome” them by exposing our fantasies to feminist analysis and by our increasing self-esteem.
She was wrong on that count. In fact, I knew she was wrong later that same night. Despite my assertive self-confidence, rock-hard feminist analysis, and weekly shift at the rape crisis hotline, I could still crawl into bed and successfully masturbate to the same disturbing fantasies that had aroused me since I was a child.
Feminism and self-esteem had no more effect on my erotic hot spots than the communion wafers I used to take every Sunday, hoping they would wash away the devil’s seed inside of me. Clearly, religion and linear politics were useless in explaining the unconscious and subversive quality of eroticism.
…
It’s normal, it’s common, to fantasize about the bizarre– the things that in real-life circumstances would trouble us, frighten us, or maybe just make us laugh. Erotic fantasies take the unbearable issues in life and turn them into orgasmic gunpowder.
…
In our fantasies, no matter how much we struggle to deny it, we control every frame. Whether we stand tall in thigh-high boots or kneel breathless on the ground, it’s a matter of our well-lubricated chosen position. We run the fuck in our minds, the exact amount of ambivalence, the perfect timing of climax. When did that ever happen in a real sexual assault?
These are just the tiniest of highlights; there’s much much more. Complete with bonus analysis of Nancy Friday’s “My Secret Garden”!
Thursday, August 31st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I guffawed (yes, I did, and when was the last time you heard a good old-fashioned guffaw?) when reading A Henchwoman’s Survivalists Guide to Laying Down the Hardline in the Bedroom:
Here are some examples of “unsavoryâ€? male behaviors, questions, and criticisms, and suggested ways to combat them. Take note, I have found a great deal of success using these modes of combat in the sexual battlefield.
Penis-bearing overlord: “Honey, I would really like to do/try anal sex.â€?
Upstart female: “Really? Me too! Why don’t you assume the position, I will be right back with the toys and lube / bar of butter and a broom handle. You’re going to want to relax, babe.â€?
…
Penis-bearing overlord: “I wish you had bigger tits.â€?
Upstart Female: “Well, I wish you had smaller tits and a bigger cock, but I don’t make a big deal about it now, do I?â€?
…
Penis-bearing overlord: “You don’t cook/clean as well as my mom.â€?
Upstart female: “I am sure I don’t suck dick as well as she does either.â€?
Thanks to Mistress Matisse for the link.
Tuesday, August 22nd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I do so love porn that tells a story, don’t you? Here’s the lovely bondage model Star, looking at a Hogtied.com photographer with what can only be described as gentle scepticism. I imagine he’s telling her what they are going to do on today’s shoot:
Fast forward several steps — hey, look at porn your own self if you want the whole story — and we find lovely Star on a soft bed in her ball gag and head harness. Very peaceful, very calm, only… does it look to you like she might be a little wide-eyed? Is that a bunny-in-the-road look, would you say?
It turns out, she has good reason to stay very still.
There’s a rope, you see. (Could this be bondage porn without a rope?) One end’s tied to the back of her head harness. The other? Well, turns out it’s tied to, um, er… well, I’m afraid there’s really no way to put this gently. It’s tied to a stainless steel butt hook. Which goes… exactly where you are afraid it goes. See for yourself. See?
So now, a great many of us can go on about our daily duties while knowing more about the depths of human kinkiness and perversity than we knew when we woke up this morning. And if you get bored sitting at your desk today, just nod your head a little bit and try to imagine how it would feel at the other end of the rope.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Tuesday, August 8th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
It has been, by all reports, hot in New York City this summer. Or as Chelsea Girl puts it:
Step outside and it feels as if you’ve entered a hot, wet oven. You’re the pat of butter on the baked potato that is Gotham. It’s hot, hot, hot heat, wet and hot, and it cleaves to you, sweat-pressing your skin and enervating you with its doughy-moist succubus embrace.
You need to go somewhere the sun don’t shine. You need to find your place in the shade. You need to embrace your inner arctic. You need to stick an ice cube up your ass.
Yes, of course. My very first thought. Only, somehow, not.
Anyway, being a woman, she has to do it in the bathtub.
Which means she has to clean the tub first. Foreplay, I guess.
Nine paragraphs later (!) she gets to the good part:
You take a cube, you rest it against your asshole and you feel the immediate pucker of the asskiss, that quick inward convulsion, that wrinkle-crinkle in and up. And then with a deep breath, surely, remorselessly, unmercifully you use your index and middle fingers to push the ice cube into your ass.
The shock of the ice. Silver sliver ice-nine-esque core radiating. Like the plunge into a mountain stream from the inside. A swift round shot of pleasure/pain/pleasure.
Your breath inhales ragged-like. You imagine it’s not unlike the sensation of crack, only pure body.
Tuesday, July 25th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
ErosBlog is not the only place where the puppy girl fetish has been mentioned; although I haven’t seen too many web resources devoted to canine roleplaying, there’s enough collars and leashes sold to people with no dogs to suggest it’s a fairly popular game. Does your human puppy (I suppose puppyboys are just as likely) need a waggable rubber buttplug dog tail?
The sales copy seems aimed at eager-to-please doggies:
Show your Master you are pleased by wagging your Wiggly Rubber Dog Tail. A perfect tail for puppy play, this anal plug is made out firm yet wiggly black rubber, with a 4″ insertable oval shaped plug and about 8″ of tail to wag. Quality rubber craftsmen designed this plug to stay put and be worn for hours. This well made dog tail compliments any human dog behind. Wear it and be sure to get lots of treats.
Woof!
2021 update: These toys are long unavailable, but there’s a similar tail in this puppy play set.
Saturday, July 1st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Hey, folks, if you like to read Susie Bright’s blog (and why wouldn’t you?) you’ll know she publishes interviews with various people (mostly writers) from time to time. I’m proud to say (since I’ve been a big fan of Susie’s for a long time) that she recently interviewed me, and put the interview up today:
The Buccaneer of Bacchanalia
Highlights include how I choose which dirty pictures to publish, a bit of the politics I don’t usually mention here, my youthful sexual influences, and why porn sites on the internet are better than they used to be.
Tuesday, May 30th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
…and writing, erotica that is, moreso. So sez Chelsea Girl:
I’m accustomed to reading books and finding my girlparts moist. The act of reading, after all, has a kind of inherent eroticism. A generally solitary activity, reading is just you and your quiet hands and the fantasy that the words play out in your mind. It’s just one swift hand below your waistline away from masturbation.
The eighteenth-century birth of the European novel was heralded with all kinds of fear that reading would unreasonably inflame the senses of the young with what one critic has termed ‘one-handed reading.’ And justifiably so — by the middle of the century, John Cleland wrote the first piece of English pornography to help him get out of debtor’s prison.
To get out, and one might suspect, to get off, because let me tell you that writing porn makes a person seriously body-needy.
I’ve been writing a couple of commissioned porny pieces: the first for an American soldier stationed in Iraq narrates a soldier’s wife’s experience of her husband’s return and her waking up from a long sexual nap. The second, for an international poker player, gives the story of a secretary being anally punished for habitual lateness.
Who knew that in a pinch binder clips work as impromptu nipple clamps? Me, that’s who.
I’ve found it incredibly hott-making to get inside these character’s heads and bodies. To inhabit the life of a woman who has by necessity put her sexuality on hold and then to find it smacking it upside her fanny was incendiary. It was hard, literally, a hard little wet knot in my g-string as I sat on my desk chair typing, typing, typing this story of this woman’s learning about what she wanted and how she wanted it.
When I finished, the story a crescendo of simultaneous orgasm and multiple penetration, I felt as if I knew her.
And now, immersed in this office fantasy, the rolling chairs, the drawers of pointy staples and rolls of tape, the shredded gossamer of good-girl pantyhose and the imminent threat of discovery, I find my delicate sensibilities inflamed. (Today, while writing, I had to take a break, discover the painful joy of my nipple clamps and come hard and long with my bullet vibe, groaning louder than I’d expected.)
Ah, the joys of literacy!
Wednesday, May 17th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
The infamous goatse.cx anal stretching image (if you’re the last lucky innocent who hasn’t seen it, Google will pop your goatse.cx virginity in a heartbeat) has inspired a wide range of tribute art in diverse media, including (for all I know) improvisational dance. (There are entire sites devoted to these tributes.) The latest infamous example is a bit of garishly colored pottery in the shape of an ashtray, hopefully not some summer camp effort (but you never know).
Clicky the linky — I won’t inflict it on the unwarned.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Tuesday, May 16th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I’ve been accumulating a little file of the oddest and most disturbing spam subject lines from amongst the zillion porn spams a day that I get. It’s time to share:
Olga gets butt hole rammed and facial blasted
Ouch! Poor Olga! Is she a porn model or a very unfortunate quarry worker?
barely legal perverts gangbanged by wild bears
Zoophilia with bears? Gangbanging bears? Who’s the target demographic here?
watch hot chicks get smacked around
Uh, no thanks. Also, please die.
correct penis oil
Important to get this right, because incorrect penis oil makes your dick fall off.
lesbians piss and smoke
They do? Why yes, I suppose some of them do. Your point is?
Urgent Notification #34419569771119606167
Er, if you’ve already sent out 34 quintillion notifications, you’ve been at it quite awhile. How urgent can this one really be?
Do you want killing sweet viirgin girls ?
That would be a big negatory, Bob. Geez, what a waste of sweet virgin girls. A few other useful projects for them I can think of, if they’re of age and willing, but killing them? Piss off.
Wait, are you the same guy who wrote to me about smacking hot chicks around? You must not have got the memo about women and sex. You know, sex, the fun stuff? Where nobody gets hurt unless they asks very nicely?
Ultra Allure Pheromones will kill her
I guess they don’t work so good then. Have you considered toxic waste disposal rather than direct email sales? Wait, did you buy this stuff from the guy who claims his penis oil is correct?
Jasmine burn anal pumped and cum blasted
Does she work with Olga? Has anybody thought to call OSHA?
Young Bitches so refined and charming!
Which is it? Are they bitches? Or charming? I don’t think I’ve ever met a charming bitch. For that matter, I mostly try to avoid bitches. Don’t you think you’d get better response if you omitted the “bitch” descriptor from your advertising for these refined and charming young women?
Friday, April 21st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I found this posted without an author credit on an adult webmaster board. It was presented as if it were supposed to be funny, and acclaimed as such by a chunk of the online-pornographer audience. Me, I didn’t find it so — it encapsulates a lot of the reasons I never could find much value in the strip club experience. Of course I know of folks in the blog community who’ve stripped (or who are still stripping) and who present a much more nuanced view of the profession. But still. Strong and unpleasant stuff, it seems to me:
1) Hey you over there, holding that one dollar bill in your hand with a death grip and waving it around at me like it’s the fucking deed to Trump Towers… what the fuck do you want me to do, grow another pussy?!? It’s a fuckin’ dollar, put it down on the tiprail and blow my world away already.
2) You losers that come into the club for a lapdance with NO underwear or boxers and thin-ass, nylon shorts, so we slip and slide on your hard-on (which always feel like a sharpie pen ~ fine point)…fuck you.
3) You with the thick-ass jeans, this was an impromptu visit, eh?
4) Don’t pull my thong up during a dance and ask me if it felt good. IT DOES NOT FEEL GOOD.
5) Hey you, Loser, the one counting out the 20 bucks in one dollar increments, rubbing your fingers between each one to make sure you are giving me just that one dollar. Yes, you.
6) No I will not just let you “slip it in real quick” for $50 more bucks.
7) Yeah, my tits are real. As real as my affection for you.
8)If you cum in your pants, you have to tip me an extra $100 for being a lame-ass who can cum in their pants from a lapdance.
9) Stop asking me out. You’re a smelly, fat loser and the only reason I’m smiling and cooing at you is because I want your money. Outside of the club I wouldn’t even fart your way.
11) Stop bitching at me about the goddamn two drink minimum. First of all, your breath ranks (what’d you have for dinner, garlic and shit?), you’re about 172 lbs. overweight, and you look like Jay Leno. More importantly: I don’t give a shit.
12) Don’t bitch at me about the $10 non-alchoholic beer either. Hide a bottle of Jack in your coat pocket next time like everyone else does.
13) My horniness is in direct proportion to your income.
14) No, you CAN’T SMOKE. Dumb. Ass.
15 )Boys, don’t sit in the front row with your “homies” and act all engrossed in some deep conversation during a girls performance because you want to look like you’re too “cool” to notice the hot, naked girl in front of you. It’s a clear sign that you ain’t getting any.
16) DON’T SIT IN THE FRONT ROW IF YOU ARE NOT GOING TO TIP. Fer chrissakes!!!!!!!!!!!
17) “So what do you guys do when you’re on your period?” Answer: I lap dance with guys in dark pants.
18) STOP trying to grab my tits!!!!!!! That’s extra.
19) SHOWER FIRST, you nasty fuck!
20) I had a feeling you weren’t going to tip me, so I took extra care to rub my lip gloss on your collar and wear extra glitter lotion and obnoxious perfume before our dance.
21) Hey cheapasses: please don’t come to my work. Just stay home and jack off to “Desperate Housewives” instead. It will save us a both a lot of unpleasantry.
22) Stop asking me why I do this job and try to get all psychologically analytical on me. For the money, you moron, that’s why.
23) No seriously, my real name is Sparkle.
24) NO, I will not take a dime sac for payment. I can tell it’s oregano anyway you stupid mutherfucker!
25) Sorry, I don’t do that. Ask the ugly girl at the bar with the black roots and overbite.
26) I can see it’s your first time at a strip club. Let me explain the dynamics to you. If you want a fuck or a blow-job, go to the ugly chicks. Hot girls don’t have to do “extra services.” I can give you some recommendations for a small fee.
27) It is not okay for you to bounce me on your cock like a baby on a knee. Not okay.
28) Stop complaining about how short the song was. It felt like the fucking maxi-single to me.
29)Yes I will fuck you, but only for 10 grand. More if you’re ugly. So basically, more.
30) DO NOT come into the club looking for a girlfriend/date. It’s like me going to PETA looking for a steak.
31) Girls–what’s with the pole smell? Can we do a little hygiene check? Nothing than worse than twirling around the pole and getting a whiff of stale pussy.
32) Girls–stop lip-syncing to the song you’re dancing to on stage. Especially if you don’t know all the words.
33) Girls–if your toes curl and hang over your platform shoes a la’ Fred Flinstone, you need to go up a size.
34) Girls–drowning yourself in Angel perfume is just as bad if not worse than the BO you’re trying to cover. Take a goddamn shower, you smell like lapdance funk.
35) Hey DJ! You suck!
36)Girls–may I suggest complete sobriety before getting tatted up? Tattoos should be meaningful, or at least semi-meaningful, or at least semi semi-meaningful. That fucking dancing llama on your ass is so lame.
37)Girls–some songs just should not be stripped to. Please. No Disney soundtracks (you know who you are, you fucking weirdo), Sade, Boys II Men, or Bjork. For the love of God, Please.
By the way, if this was ripped from a blog or website and you know the original source, please drop me an email so I can credit it properly. No links in the comments, please.
Saturday, March 18th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Sometimes I have to link to an article (like this one on playing with anal toys) as much for the post title as for the content. How can you not read an article entitled A Spy In The House Of Ass?
My girl’s eyes grow wide as I remove the fatter butt plug from its packaging and brandish it before her. “You wanna put that in me?”
“C’mon, it’s not that big. I had mine in for like half an hour.”
She relents. I watch, fascinated, as her little asshole expands to accommodate the plug at its widest cross-section and then collapses around the narrow neck above the base, locking the toy into position. Leslie sighs. I pull her to the edge of the mattress, push her legs against her chest and plunge into her cunt. “Now you have both holes filled, you little slut!”
And when she comes the butt plug shoots out of her, bouncing off the wooden floor like a rubber ball. We both giggle. I switch holes — if the butt plug won’t keep her rear-end occupied I will — and it’s not long before I burst inside her, my knees threatening to buckle.
Friday, December 9th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
This month’s I Did It for Science is about, you guessed it, the joys of anal sex.
I returned to the mirror, took another look and slowly touched my anus. “Imagine how mom and dad might feel if they knew what you were doing,” the book proposed.
An image of my mother crying popped into my head. My father tried to comfort her, saying, “At least she has a job.” The book encourages anal explorers to write an imaginary letter to their parents explaining what they are doing and why. I skipped the letter. If I had to write an imaginary letter for every action I performed that my parents would deem disturbing, I’d never get anything done.
Doesn’t that sound familiar! The rest of the tale is fairly funny…..but not nearly as hot as the Evil Science Chick’s story.
Friday, October 14th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
As a followup to the popular Ass Fuck Conspiracy post, let me share some prefatory material from a brief male-written anal sex guide I just stumbled across:
Alright, so you’ve finally worked up the nerve to ask the question to the woman you’re seeing. Would she like to have anal sex? She looks at you with a grim look on her face and flatly says “No way.” Foolishly you ask her why, thinking that somehow you’ll be able to convince her otherwise. “I tried it once before with another guy. It just hurt too much. I never want to do that again.”
That’s the guy I hate. The guy who ruins anal sex for women for the rest of their lives because they have no clue what they’re doing.
Tuesday, October 11th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Via Mistress Matisse, this story of undercover vice cops who got handjobs and “anal touching” at a massage parlor before arresting the ladies who provided their services:
On April 27, an officer entered the shop and paid $60 for and received a full “body shampoo,” which included genital and anal touching. The officer returned two other times for massages that also included masturbation — one session with two prostitutes — and again paid for the service.
A second officer also received a massage and was masturbated, according to charging papers.
…
[Lynnwood police Cmdr. Paul] Watkins says the tactics used during the investigation did not violate department policies.
“We have a very ethical police department,” he said. “This does not violate the ethical standards of our department.”
Police ethics, which you already knew if you ever watched a cop park his cruiser or speed through a crosswalk: “The laws are for you to follow, and do not apply to us. We are above the law.” Got it.
Thursday, September 29th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Two tidbits today from the vast and tasty smorgasbord that is Panties Panties Panties. First, the anal sex. There’s a recent post called “Ass: The Gateway Drug“. The post combines plenty of prurient detail with an anal sex tip that’s not always found in those dry how-to articles; namely, that good humor is at least as important as the standard “use oceans of lube” advice. But it’s the title that amused me most. It reminded me of the ancient joke: “Why don’t [insert your favorite moralistic prigs here] have sex standing up? Because it could lead to dancing!”
Tidbit the second, nonsexual: In a spiritual echo of my recent slam against office work, Hiromi posted about idleness and wage slavery and included a vignette about soul-crushing commutes:
Today I was stuck in Austin rush hour traffic. Grey-faced, prune-lipped, baggy-eyed commuters with cell phones grafted to their heads crammed in their metal hutches inching along in the 105 degree heat. And for what?
Werk. Jaabs. Wage slavery.
Folks, the horrifying thing about all of this is that it’s voluntary; there are ways out of the rat race, but you have to look hard and perhaps be willing to give up (at least temporarily) some of the excellent pellets they feed you.
Monday, September 5th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Columnist Emily Pepper writes about the TMI hazards of writing a sex column:
This is worse with family. My grandpa told me he once had anonymous anal intercourse with some Parisian guy — while married to my grandma, no less — because he was questioning his sexual identity, wanted to experiment, etc. And it all turns out for the best, in the end: As the Frenchman embraced him and whispered, “Je t’aime” into his ear, he realized he really preferred women, and, when the evening was over, politely bid Louis L’Amour goodnight and went trotting home. An interesting story. Not, however, one you want dropped on you out of the blue by your 80-something grandfather. It’s uncomfortable. Afterward, I beat my head against a drainpipe and sniffed glue trying to get the naked-grandpa images out of my head — sadly, all to no avail.
Sunday, June 26th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
In concluding a funny post about cooking, drinking, and anal sex, Brett from Panties Panties Panties Panties Panties Panties Panties writes:
Then we came home, cooked, and committed a venal sin with relish. Sodomy is a venal sin, isn’t it?
And all I can think is “Relish? Seems like that would be lumpy. And sting.”
Thursday, May 5th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
This is (and I am most emphatically not making this up) is the logo for the Institute of Oriental Studies at the Federal University of Santa Catarina, Brazil:
Wednesday, April 20th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
I go to blog after blog, and it seems like today they are all discussing the new pope. I already turned off the TV because it was “all pope, all the time” on the news channels. Since I don’t have anything to add to that conversation, how about a dirty joke with a nun in it?
A cabbie picks up a nun. She gets into the cab, and the cab driver won’t stop staring at her. She asks him why is he staring and he replies, “I have a question to ask you, but I don’t want to offend you.”
She answers, “My dear son, you cannot offend me. When you’re as old as I am and have been a nun as long as I have, you get a chance to see and hear just about everything. I’m sure that there’s nothing you could say or ask that I would find offensive.”
He says, “Well, I’ve always had a fantasy to have anal sex with a nun.”
She responds, “Well, I can probably help you with that. Are you single? And you must be Catholic.”
The cab driver is very excited and says, “Yes, I am single and I’m Catholic too!”
The nun says, “OK, pull into the next alley.”
He does and the nun fulfils his fantasy. But when they get back on the road, the cab driver starts crying.
“My dear child, said the nun, why are you crying?” “Forgive me sister, but I have sinned. I lied, I must confess, I’m married and I’m Jewish.”
The nun says, “That’s OK. My name is Kevin, and I’m on my way to a Halloween party.”
Bad Kevin, bad!
Similar Sex Blogging:
Sunday, April 17th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
From wik3dchick, this damning mini-review of KY Warming Liquid:
I gave away my KY Warming Liquid to a deserving person. That stuff only got warm but didnt lube at all… So its like having anal sex w/a lighter in your asshole. Sucks.
All righty, then.
Sunday, March 27th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Here’s assigned reading for those of you who still think it’s funny to laugh at fat people: A Fat Girl’s Rhapsody. Not much sex in there, but you will find a good “how not to do it” on discussing appearance with your cyberfriends.
Thanks to Analyze Julie for the link.
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005 -- by Bacchus
…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.
Saturday, February 19th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
You have to love a blog entry that starts:
“And then I am kneeling on the bed, ass up in the air, and I am not quite sure how I got this way.”
Sarah’s tone in that opener reminds me of the old cliche of the pregnant young miss who breathlessly exclaims “I don’t know how this could possibly have happened to me!”
Thursday, February 17th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
Woot! Bacchus caught ESC promising a post on backdoor lovin’, politely calls her on it, and the Chick comes through! And wow, does she come through, even though her mom is staying at her place this week (she blogs from work, natch). A small sampling:
What IS it with guys and anal, anyway? Is it a “no hole left behind” policy I am unaware of? Is it the forbidden nature of it all? What? Are the other holes just not as fun anymore? Boredom setting in…”oh…not pussy again!”
And further along:
All this requires intense concentration…concentration that is NOT helped by the person who is causing all this stress asking things like “you ok? does it feel good, baby? tell me it feels good!”
Whole, fab post here. Well worth reading. Thanks again, Evil Science Chick!
Thursday, February 17th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
I’ve always fancied that ErosBlog should be a force for social good. Now here’s proof. Among its many and manifest positive social benefits, ErosBlog encourages evil science chicks to blog about anal sex. What’s not to like about that?
{drums fingers}
Evilsciencechick, we are waiting….
Thursday, November 11th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
I am stunned to announce that I’ve just done something unprecedented (for me). I just deleted a blog from my blogroll because of the content. Not because it was stale, not because it was lame, not because it was badly written – I prune blogs for that sort of reason all the time. Nope, I deleted it because it flat-out pissed me off…and because I could.
The offending post? A jocular statement of warm anticipatory approval for the “forced anal intrusion” (aka prison rape) awaiting sex offenders once they get to jail.
Sorry, folks, but civilized people don’t use rape as a punishment, much less gloat about it. And I just discovered that I can’t stomach linking to that particular flavor of barbarian.
Wednesday, November 10th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Visiting adult toy websites can be a most educational experience. The ungently-named Joy Rider Fuck Machine is a celebration of the pervy things that can be done with “ultra refined medium density fiberboard”:
It’s said to be a very versatile machine:
Grab onto the silver handle and fuck yourself to orgasm! The Joy Rider has an articulated seat specially designed to make it easy, fun and safe for people to experience penetrative sexual pleasure. The Joy Rider is smooth, stable so you can concentrate on the pleasure you deserve. The machine relies entirely on your body movement to do all of its thrusting. There are no motors to plug in or breakdown, and no noise. More importantly, because Joy Rider responds only to your movement, you have complete control so it’s like a lover that can read your mind.
The Joy Rider has a seat which rocks in response to your movement. As the seat assembly moves forward or back in relation to the base, the thrust control arms move the pivoting thrust arm assembly upward or downward in relation to the seat. … [It] features thrusting controlled entirely by your movement, so the speed and depth of penetration is easy for you to vary and bring yourself to orgasm as quickly or as slowly as preferred. [It] is perfect for anal stimulation. That part of the body is full of nerve endings and can be a wonderful source of pleasure. Because the Joy Rider is easy to control you won’t have to be worried about being penetrated too hard or too fast.
So, has anybody out there actually tried this thing? Inquiring minds want to know.
Thursday, August 26th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
If “goatse.cx” doesn’t mean anything to you, proceed with caution.
A while back I linked to the Wikepedia article on goatse.cx. Now (please put away your sandwich) here’s an interview (including small but graphic photos) with a French guy who is a self-taught expert in that dubious art of extreme anal stretching:
When I first started, I was using small bottles of shampoo. After that, I tried small apples, and then bigger ones. At this point I’d put a year of stretching in, and bought myself a large dildo.
My method was to dilate my ass as often as I could — every day, even if just for a short while. Before starting it’s important to use a large dildo; use it to both warm up and clean your ass, so make sure you stick it up all the way. When you find that you can take this large dildo without any work-up or preparation, then you know that you’re ready to take it to the next step.
Then, in each session, to get your bottom prepared, put in a big cucumber. Soon you’ll arrive at a point where even the biggest cucumbers you can buy at the grocery fit easily in your ass. Now you’re ready to get serious. Buy a small Coke bottle, and use that in your ass. When that passes in and out easily, move on to bottles of wine. Once you can take wine bottles easily, you can move on to even bigger things.
Bigger things? Yup. There’s a whole paragraph on those big Coke bottles. Next stop: plastic playground balls.
A word of caution to the intrepid assventurer: Buy yourself a copy of “Anal Pleasure and Health” first. And whatever you do, please make sure you don’t wind up on the Rectal Foreign Bodies page.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Friday, August 20th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
I don’t exactly know what to make of this, but it’s certainly apropos to the threads about diamonds. In fact, I’m just pulling it out of the comments to the Buying Sex With Diamonds thread so people can see it.
I blew more than $30k on my wife’s new 3.2 ct. ring for our 15th anniversary in June. I had long since given up on ever getting any booty action, but she is the perfect wife otherwise, so I wanted to really show her my love and regard.
Well, she was just stunned, I mean speechless. That very night she rolled over for me and invited me into the cavern of my dreams. YES!
The best part is, it turns out she actually found that she liked it. She is becoming a little anal freak and I love it. At first she would just move so things “slipped” a little during lovemaking, but now she is absolutely shameless… rolling over, spreading her cheeks, and demanding sodomic satisfaction in the filthiest terms.
I would gladly have paid three times more to achieve these results. I am a happy, happy, happy, but much poorer man.
Monday, August 2nd, 2004 -- by Bacchus
A recent Adrants article reproduces two spoof diamond ads which recycle this old joke with a sharper edge. Ouch!
As for the place where Adrants found the spoof ads: I’d love to link it, but not while it’s got a craven popup that makes you click “OK” before you can see the page. Memo to Luke Ford: Which side are you on?
Thursday, May 6th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Or something. I’m not sure I follow the lingo, but at least I’m not the only one:
Lifted without shame from Across the Atlantic.
P.S. Speaking of which, have you noticed that Shell and The Group Captain are now on the same side of the Atlantic and happily eating burgers with vegemite and A1 sauce together? They’ve spared us their transports of delight, but it sounds like they are having fun. Like the man from the A-Team said, I love it when a plan comes together.
P.P.S. I am reliably informed that vegemite is actually concentrated smegma.
Sunday, March 14th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
There is no intention that this sex blog should host a long parade of sexual medical mishaps. Nor yet do I want to tread upon the ground that has been so thoroughly and famously trodden by the infamous Rectal Foreign Bodies page. However, in response to the last item Dr_Spaz was kind enough to email this link:
An unexpected benefit of pre-emptive rectal analgesic administration: the “key” to postoperative analgesia.
Moving rapidly along….
Friday, February 6th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Here’s a museum-style picture of one of those historical chastity belts with which traveling men were once wont to encumber their wives:
Interestingly, although great and unsanitary lengths (note the viciously toothed slot) were taken to prevent the conception of unauthorized heirs, this device does not include the complete wrap-around iron strap with additional toothed opening at the rear, as was sometimes seen. Apparently the man buying this device was content to prevent good old vaginal sex; if he was concerned about any anal pleasure dalliances with the butler, he didn’t let it influence his purchasing decisions.
Saturday, January 17th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
While I’ve been busy, Belle de Jour has been up to her usual fun. In an amusing post, she explains that “Anal sex is the new black” and writes:
I fully anticipate by next year Charlotte Church will have a glittery t-shirt that reads ‘My Barbie takes it up the ass.’ Maybe I should make one and send it to her.
Ha!
Thursday, December 18th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Consult your herbals, ladies and gentlemen! Is it true that ginger is an aphrodisiac?
Buried in the links in a couple of recent posts over at Spanking Blog (where the discussion focuses on the painful effects of ginger when used in BDSM play) comes this startling assertion in an article called Figging: The Art of Anal Ginger Root Play:
Ginger also has a property that puts it far ahead of any ginger substitutes. So it is said, the juice of the root has the ability to cause incredible sexual desires. I have had subs begin to sob, begging to have something inserted into their female opening and to have orgasm. The reaction is tenfold if the ginger juice comes in contact with the clitoris. Cut a small slice of ginger, making sure it has one flat side. Place this side directly onto the clitoris and hold it there. Depending on anatomy, some women will be able to retain the slice on their own without assistance.
Apply ginger to the genitalia while the ginger plug is in place and watch to see if it brings the pleasure you both seek. I have experienced some of the most stunning results with submissives using this technique. I don’t have a perfect scientific explanation as to why ginger cause such an effect but suffices to say it works.
Update: Intrepid experimenters, check Figging.com for your instructions, then experiment and (please!) report back.
Sunday, November 30th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Submissive sex appears to be the conversational topic o’ the week in the sex blogosphere. First our man at Moving On wrote a fantasy and a follow-up piece, and then Lilith weighed in with an “it’s not for me” reaction that treaded perilously close to being an “it’s icky and so are dominant guys” piece. To be clear: she didn’t say that; but she said “it’s not for me” several ways and then went on a digression (that was unfortunately not obviously a digression) about why she can’t stand domineering guys, and she did it in a way that made it seem like she was lumping all dominant guys into a domineering jerk category. This, it turns out, was apparently not the point she was trying to make — as discussion in her comment area, and a later follow-up that’s much more in line with her normal tone of acceptance of alternate lifestyle approaches, make clear. (Really, it was a fine example of that old Usenet netiquette principle: If someone says something that seems surprisingly out of character for them, or looks like a radical change to the philosophy you expect from them, they are probably being misunderstood and you ought to wait for them to clarify before you jump all over them. I’m glad I waited.)
I myself am enormously entertained by a dominance-and-submission dynamic, even though (and I see no contradictions, although many do) I’m as radical as any you’ll find in my support of self-ownership, personal autonomy, and equality-of-everything-that-matters between men and women. If a woman submits to me, it’s a matter of meta-consent as far as I’m concerned; I’m not uncomfortable (quite the contrary!) taking an atavistic dominant role that would be philosophically horrifying, but for my knowledge that at root, she’s free to change the terms of our relationship, or end it, if it isn’t fulfilling her.
And speaking of fulfilling her, I can’t resist stirring the pot with a sexy submissive report from Sarah at Submissive Reflections, whose nice email to me indicated she only has three readers. Well, Sarah, I’m pleased to share my three thousand or so with you, at least for a day or two:
The first time W/we had sex was a week after He had kissed me and accepted that I was His. It happened to be my birthday. Neither of U/us were waiting for it, it just happened to be the first chance W/we had to be alone together as work was keeping Him busy and out of town. When He came to my place He simply said hello and bit my neck and pulled my skirt up and my panties down and pushed me to the floor and fucked me. There was no foreplay and no words of tenderness. It was just a matter of raw hungry sex. Within minutes He withdrew from me and turned me to my stomach, pulling me to my knees and hands while growling at me to ‘present’ and whilst I was still trying to get my bearings I felt His cock press against my ass. I felt so incredibly turned on. He slid His cock slowly inside my ass, stopping when I clenched and gasped, then pushing into my ass again. I couldn’t believe He was ass fucking me without a word being spoken about it between U/us. When His cock was fully inside me He lay over me and bit my shoulders and neck. He used one hand in my hair to pull my head back and reached for my mouth with His tongue. I closed my lips over it and sucked on His tongue and He came in my ass, growling and grunting and filling me with semen. He collapsed against me and I collapsed against the floor and He kept Himself inside me while He licked and bit and sucked at my neck. He whispered ‘Happy birthday Princess’ in my ear and I felt like I was the luckiest girl alive.
When W/we talked about it later He told me that He hadn’t asked if I liked anal sex because His kind of woman prefered not to be given options. He also knew that I would do anything to please Him, and that had been what pleased Him. Had it repulsed me, He said He would have had to rethink what He wanted as anything that did not make me ‘pant with lust’ would not please Him either. I remember feeling tinier than I had ever felt when I was lying wrapped up in His arms. I had never felt so safe and protected and loved.
Tuesday, November 25th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
OK, this is pretty funny: Technical Virgin. They say:
But there is a way for youths to enjoy rich and satisfying sexual intimacy without risking unwanted pregnancy ANAL SEX! The anus, tighter than any vagina and tinged with the thrill of the taboo, is the perfect venue for modern teen lust.
Of course, the safest way for teens to avoid unwanted pregnancy while satisfying their carnal needs is to limit themselves to homoerotic encounters until they are ready for procreation. But many boys and girls are uncomfortable with the idea of same-sex encounters. Anal sex, however, can be fun for both sexes, and thanks to modern improvements in strap-on sex tools, girls can enjoy being in control of their own anal encounters.
So, teens, the next time you strip down for sex, remember the TechnicalVirgin motto “Everything Butt!”
A fine parody of the ridiculous “abstain from sex for the ten or twenty years between sexual maturity and the time you get married” message that’s being flogged as an alternative to sex education these days.
Friday, November 21st, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Doxy writes about the joys of vanilla phone sex Johns:
Please, any of you guys reading this — whether you ever intend to call me or not — don’t sell yourselves short because you don’t want to anally rape aardvarks with Japanese-anime elastic penises. Phone sex, or any sex for that matter, isn’t all about what’s new and different or what’s wilder than the last. Sexuality isn’t about keeping up with the Joneses (or getting up with the Joneses for that matter).
It’s about getting hot and getting up with what you HAVE. It’s about stretching the intensity of what already gets you going. It’s about that trembling rush that shudders through you after you’ve cum in buckets and that last tremulous whimper of exhaustion. And it’s about feeling so fucking content that you whistle and head for the shower with a grin on your mug.
If phone sex is anything, it needs to be FUN first and everything else second. And if fun for you is fantasizing about cumming on a cheerleader’s perky tits or shoving jellyfish sushi tentacles up Lucy Liu’s twat, neither is better or worse than the other.
Which is all fine and good. But the real reason I quoted it was to honor and celebrate the unforgettable turn of phrase “shoving jellyfish sushi tentacles up Lucy Liu’s twat”.
Let the search engine hits commence!
Friday, October 10th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Emmie at Girls in the Bag doesn’t worry about sex toy baggage, mostly, but she does have her limits:
the person whose toys i will refuse to use is the one to whom i have to explain why we can’t have anal sex and then regular sex in that order.
I do believe this question is setting an all-time ErosBlog record for interested and interesting responses!
Tuesday, August 5th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
What is it about this summer? Seems like good new sex blogs are sprouting up all over. This one’s called Erotic Truth [since gone defunct] and it’s a multi-author blog with lots of posts, all of them quite explicit and interesting.
You know that too-common complaint women have about some guy who tried to get them to do anal sex by “accidentally” just trying to slip it in when they weren’t expecting it? Well, one of the early posts on Erotic Truth is a very graphic, very bad example:
My first time was somewhat of an accident (or so he says). Scott and I are in the shower at his older cousins house doing the nasty. Little tub, and a shower curtain hanging from the ceiling. I am bent over, ass in the air (as usual) and he is fucking me harder than a raped ape. Suddenly he pulls out and with all the fucking force one man could muster he rams it into my ass. Shower curtain flies off, I scream…tears well in my eyes…ass bleeds. I was like WHAT THE HELL were you thinking about? He looks back at me as if I am on drugs and says…what? What? you stupid fucking waste of skin….you just rammed a good sized piece of meat into my virgin asshole. He’s like”I did?” YOU COULDNT TELL? No says he…..it felt just like the other hole. Alrighty then, either my pussy is so tight it feels like an ass or my ass is loose enough to feel like a pussy. Either way, he did not earn brownie points that day. Assfuck.
A gentleman, adept navigator, and credit to his gender. Not.
Saturday, August 2nd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
This paragraph from an essay over on Pornblography (the essay topic being the vital question “are the male performers in double anal penetration movies gay?”) made me laugh a lot:
Not two minutes later I had failed male porn star Dick Tracy asking me why I didn’t hire him. I told him it had nothing to do with the fact that he made gay porn and everything to do with the fact he couldn’t keep wood. I reminded him that I once watched him furiously masturbate for nearly an hour straight, sweat pouring down over his obvious hair plugs, face beet red, before emitting a girlish squeak and two drops of milk of magnesium from the head of his cock that could easily have been mistaken for spit. Oddly enough he, too, seemed deeply insulted by my observations and honesty, and openly contemplated giving me the ass whooping I so desperately crave. Ultimately he laughed, shook his head and walked away, while I proceeded to get drunk and use dumb pickup lines on women who, prior to my insinuations, used to think I was funny and clever.
Tuesday, June 10th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
I’ve “borrowed” the following graphic from the front page of the excellent if somewhat frightening medical fetish toy sellers at MedicalToys.Com. (The theory is that they’ll overlook my liberality in this respect because of the free promotion it gives them; presumably if that theory is wrong they’ll menace me with urethral catheters or lawyers or something and I’ll have to replace the graphic with a picture of Mickey Rat giving someone the finger.)
But I digress. The picture:
If you don’t recognize the object “Nurse Laurel” is brandishing, these two archive entries might help you out. If you don’t know why it’s sexy, don’t worry; like most fetishes, the appeal is not obvious…except to those to whom it is obvious. I confess this one has me scratching my head, but presumably it’s all in good fun.
Monday, April 21st, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Poor Halley. A worldly woman, there can be no doubt. But when she set out to critique the porn spam in her mailbox (a hilarious and worthy idea) she inadvertently revealed a slight…gap…in her pornographical education.
The spam:
Stacy is a starving biology student. She said the reason she would take two huge cocks inside her was because “I need the money!”
Halley proceeds to impugn both Stacy’s biological and her business sense:
And WHY is this alleged biologist-wannabe putting these two cocks in her vagina — and this makes, I’m telling you, NO SENSE — the writer tells us “I need the money!” Because she needs the money? Who, exactly, is paying for this transaction?
Let’s posit for a moment that, in fact, she is a bio major who moonlights as a common whore — a stretch of the imagination dear readers, I know, but stay with me on this. If she were propositioning guys to fuck her with huge cocks — why on earth would any reasonable man pay to compete with another customer’s huge dick for space in Stacy’s cunt? It just does not make solid economic sense. Stacy is no business major. So instead of getting two guys paying to fight over what is essentially one parking place, shouldn’t she reconsider the whole scenario and take them on one at a time?
Halley, Halley, Halley. You’re reading too much into this. “One parking place?” “Inside her”, yes, but there are ways, and there are ways.
Perhaps some visual aids are in order. Fair warning, gentle reader: like any good visual aids these links leave nothing to the imagination.
First, using the modest, time-honored, and maiden-aunt-approved device of substituting carrots for actual male members: Perhaps Stacy meant she wanted two cocks inside her not this way, but instead this way? It makes simultaneity much less implausible.
The skeptical reader will observe, with some justice, that those two carrots in the latter picture are not attached to any actual fellows, and might further observe that, were they attached to actual fellows, the angles involved would be problematic.
And perhaps that’s so. But the problems, if any, are not insurmountable. And guys have been reported to greatly enjoy this sort of sharing, which supposedly provides many of the alleged joys of bumping penises without any risk of catching homoerotic cooties from each other, thanks to the thin protective barrier of female flesh. Bacchus, however, cannot confirm that claim from any first-hand knowledge.
At this point, however, we may safely conclude that more time has been spent analyzing the porn spam in question than ever went into its authorship.
Tuesday, April 8th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
A spiffy online magazine sorta thing called Wrong Way Go Back has published Three Unerotic Tales. One is too scientific, one is too euphemistic, and one is just downright over the top. The scientific one reads frighteningly like what John Norman would sound like if he tried to write hard-core straight porn:
His penis slid into her vagina and she secreted more vaginal discharge. Luckily the discharge was not irritating or blood-stained, nor did it have an unpleasant odour, the cause of which is usually foreign bodies, cervical erosion or cervical polyp.
Luckily, too, she was on the pill, a type which built a wall between the cervix and fallopian tube that prevented sperm from entering her uterus and impregnating her ovum upon ejaculation.
She was simply having sex with him for the pleasure of it, having successfully passed through her oral and anal phase of psychosexual development to fully centre upon exploration of her genetalia.
There’s also a snarky article about how web logs are nothing new, nothing special, and nothing revolutionary. Which is fucking hilarious ironic coming from a website that is slavishly imitating a dead tree magazine, right down to page numbers and two-page advertising spreads for sport utility vehicles. [It’s also ironic that all the links in this post died and had to be removed.]
Sunday, March 23rd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Quite a long time back Erosblog linked to Sticky Kitty’s explanation of why she liked being spanked. Now SpankBoss (who is blogging up a storm over at the new and prolific Spanking Blog) explains the spanker perspective, or his anyway:
Why spanking? It’s hard to be successfully introspective about the things that make us hot. But if you’ll accept an armchair-psychology self-analysis, I think it’s a power-and-revenge thing. But that sounds…well, not worse, but perhaps more important, than it should? It’s no big deal. Rather, like most mild fetishes, it’s more of a vestigial thing, a left-over artifact of a bad adolescent decade. Like most guys who aren’t jocks or hunks, I was pretty frustrated as a young man, and got told “no” a lot, or (worse) ignored. Spanking a woman (in fantasy, against her will; in reality, with her consent) amounts to a spot of harmless payback. It’s sexually hot because when a woman is being spanked, she is, literally and symbolically speaking, in no position to say “no.” If she could (in fantasy), or would (in reality), it would have happened already. I guess you could say spanking liberates my inner mustache-twirling dastardly villain. All in good dirty fun of course.
Tuesday, February 18th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
The above picture makes Bacchus thirsty. It also puts him in mind of the following extremely explicit but wildly implausible passage about anal sex and ripe oranges, from the book Captive by Aishling Morgan. Don’t read on if you are likely to be offended by this sort of thing:
Aisla sighed as the warm grease from the roast duck touched her bottom hole, then gave a little gasp as her anus was penetrated. Yarath began to wriggle his finger about in her rectum, exploring her and greasing her ring, then feeling the shape of the tangerines through the membrane between vagina and rectum. Aisla pushed her bottom back, eager for buggery, but was given a gentle slap for her trouble. Yareth’s finger pulled from her anus and something replaced it, not his cock, but another tangerine.Â
With her eyes and mouth wide in shock, Aisla struggled to accept the fruit in her back passage. She felt her ring stretch and a complaining stab of pain, but even as she cried out her anus gave and the fruit had popped inside. She accepted it with a long groan. Juice had splashed between her buttocks and was trickling down her thighs, showing that the tangerine had burst as it went up her. Sulitea giggled again as another fruit was pressed to Aisla’s anus, again stretching, hurting and popping inside just when she thought she could not take it. A third followed, leaving both vagina and rectum bloated and straining, while she felt an urgent need to evacuate herself.
Only then did Yarath take her by the hips, and she realised she was to be buggered with the tangerines still in her rectum. His cock went in slowly, forcing the fruit aside and increasing the straining feeling in her bowels. By the time he was in her to the hilt she was panting and struggling for breath, overwhelmed by the bloated sensation in her gut and up her vagina.
Yarath began to bugger her, with the fruit rolling and bumping in her rectum with each push. Aisla’s control went quickly, and as Sulitea came to stroke her hair, she panted and grunted her way through the sodomy. Her hands were locked hard on the table top at first, gripped tight in a futile attempt to control herself. Soon they slipped, first back to her buttocks to stretch them open, then beneath herself to find her clitoris and start on the climb to orgasm.
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Monday, February 3rd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Who said suburban living was bland and banal?
Monday, January 20th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
The Reverse Cowgirl is back with actual words on her blog (Yay!) and she links to a story from a college newspaper that’s sort of an overview of the bukkake thing, with a review of a specific American Bukkake title.
All of which is reproduced here because, as noted previously, bukkake is one of those fringe porn things that doesn’t get written about much with any degree of honesty. There are a bunch of wierd, odd, unusual, or downright gross things happening out on the fringes of porn, and folks with the courage to discuss them (perhaps thereby making them more comprehensible to the rest of us) should be encouraged.
However, all that is by way of disclaimer, because the article itself is exactly the sort of sex writing that ErosBlog usually avoids like the plague. When nominally pro-sex authors take great pains to mention and then reinforce that they are not aroused by the subject at hand, and then digress several times into discourses on the feminist implications of their topic, all while maintaining an intellectualized tone intended to remind everyone that they are, ya know, serious… well, the result tends not to be very interesting to anyone who is more interested in sexual topics than in academic pretension.
Having said all that, however, this particular article also contains the history of bukkake according to a director thereof, presented with all due skepticism:
Director [of the American Bukkake series] Jim Powers says, “Bukkake is about discipline.” He also provides background on the practice’s mock Asiatic name. “Bukkake is an ancient Japanese custom where if a woman cheated on her husband, the rest of the village men would take her off to a cave somewhere and jack off on her face and in her mouth. And usually what would happen is the woman would kill herself afterwards,” Powers says with an earnest expression and voice that make you eventually realize he actually believes what he’s saying.
Monday, November 25th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
In an oddly banal report, The Spectator describes an English farm wife who went “on the game” (as the Brits apparently say) to support the posh lifestyle to which her family had become accustomed before the hoof-and-mouth police came around and slaughtered the family herds. Hubby was surprisingly supportive:
“Mike and I talked about it for days. Neither of us had ever done anything like this before. At the beginning we worked as a team. We would do sex displays and threesomes, and it was perhaps a way of making it easier for him to accept what was happening. Then, after a while, I just started doing it on my own.”
To the delight of British accountants, this woman’s tale is not that uncommon:
“That’s how I met my accountant. He has three working girls on his books, and I don’t know about the arrangements he has with the others, but I pay him in kind and he seems quite happy.”
Sunday, November 24th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
It’s been a busy weekend at ErosBlog headquarters, which explains the dearth of blog entries:
As you can see from the picture, the ErosBlog pre-Thanksgiving party got a little wild. What with one thing and another, production suffered. (Bacchus, on the other hand, did not suffer.)
The hard working staff nymphs who do much of the work around here put down their tools and loudly demanded quality time with Bacchus. Attempts were made to restore order, brisk spankings were delivered, and stern admonitions were made…all to no avail. The nymphs would not be denied, and in the end, the bacchanalia could not be averted.
If you believe all that, you have a promising future in Arizona oceanfront real estate. This much only is true: your humble scribe did in fact go for a pleasant hike with an actual unattached and not-obviously-crazy woman.
Monday, November 11th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
Just in case anyone was having trouble visualizing the item (or its uses) under discussion in the Bardex rant below, a quick visit to Double Bardex will fix you right up. It appears to be a Japanese site, and consequently unlikely to be taken off the net by the Bardex lawyers. [And yet, it finally went away.] The site shows several pictures of an “anal retention catheter” as Debrah now must call them, including one shot of the device inflated whilst inside somebody’s hairy butt.
Monday, November 11th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
From the all-encompassing Volokh Conspiracy comes word of a positively Bacchanalian festival: Splosh!
Splosh — is the most infamous night of squishy, sexy, safe and sticky fun with a menu of edible and slimy, tasty and grimy dishes and people.
On the messy fun menu:
Pudding, cake batter, corn syrup, liquefied bananas, oils galore, paints, gak, splosh paint, syrups, fruit loops, oats, flour, paste, fruits and veggies of all kinds and a rainbow of food coloring.
Alas, Bacchus is too many kilomiles away from San Francisco to make this party, even if he started walking now. And a good thing too, since each participant must bring a date. If Bacchus were to be attending, he would need to start taking applications for the Legion of Messy Nymphs on an accelerated schedule.
Thursday, November 7th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
 Bacchus is pissed off. As a casual Google search reveals, there are lots of kinky people out there who enjoy giving each other sex enemas. And like any other kinky sex practice, it helps to have good tools. One brand of “anal retention catheter” (you know, a rubber tube for shoving up the ass, usually with one or more inflatable balloons to keep it there) is Bardex.
One would think that the maker of such devices would appreciate free publicity. One would be wrong. One must have failed to consider the kind of lawyers likely to be hired by people who make things to shove up your ass.
The result? Threatening letters to kinky folk on the web.
“By using BARDEX in connection with goods and services that do not originate with C.R. Bard, Inc., You are misrepresenting the source of these goods and services as well as deceiving the public. This use of BARDEX is likely to cause confusion as to origin of the products or services identified and dilute the value of our client’s registered mark in violation of the trademark laws. Furthermore, the manner in which you promote and advertise the products or services creates a negative image, damaging the reputation and goodwill associated with our client’s mark and products”.
The result? Some quality sites have been forced to revise their content — not because there’s any real risk that Bardex would win a lawsuit, but simply because the people involved can’t afford (in money, in time, or in energy) to fight.
What’s wrong with that? Well, as it happens, these lawyers are bluffing. The trademark law in question is the one that lets Nike shut down Ebay auctions for cheap Chinese knockoff shoes. References to bootleg goods really does “deceive the public” and “dilutes the value of the brand.”
The law does NOT let a brand owner decide how its products will be used. Nor does it allow the brand owner to stop people from talking about what they like to do with the product.
What Bardex is doing here — trying to stamp out web references to “non-medical” uses of its enema gear — is just plain old-fashioned cheap bullying. They don’t want their medical customers finding out (as if they didn’t already know) that people use their product to have a little anal fun. And they have learned that they can threaten folks who do that, to get them to shut up about it.
Alas, it doesn’t usually make sense to fight these assholes when they send their threatening letters. Although you could win in court, it could easily cost tens of thousands of dollars to get that victory. No little site about pervy sex has that kind of revenue, and even kinky folks have families to feed.
These guys know they don’t have a legal leg to stand on, but they know that when they send out their insupportable legalistic nastygrams, most folks will have no choice but to comply. Even by the ethical standards for which lawyers are already infamous, that’s just disgusting. Weasels Lawyers who lie, and know they are lying, and do it deliberately and with intent to intimidate, are just rotten. And so are the folks who hire them.
This site has yet to make a dime. Your host has no assets that can readily be attached. And your host’s host can be replaced, complete with a DNS update, in under 24 hours. So, Bardex, this is for you:
BARDEX is BEST
for kinky enema butt sex!
Deal with it.
Thursday, October 24th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
I just stumbled across an amusingly-written weekly sex advice column called Love Bites that comes from Toronto’s weekly, The Eye. Here’s a sample:
Q. I have a girlfriend who would like to have anal sex, but she is afraid it will hurt a lot. We were wondering if there is any kind of cream or some product that would relax the sphincter, allowing an easy penetration? Any collateral negative effects if this is used?
A. There are several products on the market designed to numb the sphincter, but they are generally considered a bad idea by ass-fucking authorities. One of the things your ass does when you’re doing something it doesn’t like is warn you in a way that’s hard to ignore. You do not want to Roofie your sphincter. You want your sphincter on red alert. If your ass is numb, you might do something that can really fuck it up, so to speak. Best to take things slow. Tristan Taormino’s The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women (the book, not the film, which is awesome but really just a jazzy porno) is a much wiser prelude.
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Monday, October 21st, 2002 -- by Bacchus
This is almost too good to be true. “Saudi Arabia’s First English Daily” takes on your tough Muslim sex questions, and wrestles them to the mattress. Is Allah down with hot Islamic anal sex? Well, it turns out that Mohammed himself has weighed in on this weighty question. Doggy style is fine, but keep it procreative please:
A man came to the Prophet and asked him whether it was permissible to have sex with his wife from behind. The Prophet answered in the affirmative. As the man was on his way out, the Prophet called him back and said: “Consider what I have said: from behind, but in the front.”
Thanks to The Fly Bottle for the link!
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Monday, October 14th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
…now where is that gym again?
Folks, your humble host, like his namesake, is fond of his imbibables, and his edibles for that matter. The bacchanalia, run properly, would provide suitable high-calorie workouts, but the damn nymphs appear to have all kippered off again. So it’s time for Bacchus to hit the gym.
I maintain that the prospect would be far more attractive if only I could find the right gym.
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