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The Sex Blog Of Record
Friday, January 8th, 2021 -- by Bacchus
So there’s a wild story emerging that one of the fatalities among the invaders of the Capitol the other day — the one who died of cardiac arrest — supposedly triggered his own heart attack by accidentally tasering himself in the balls while stealing a painting of Tip O’Neil:
He attempted to remove a large painting of Thomas “Tip” O’Neill, speaker of the house in the 80s, but in reaching up to remove the painting, activated the taser in his pants pocket. This subjected his testicles to the full force of the electric blast, and with the switch continually pressed by the fold in his trousers, delivered many shocks there, one following another.
Even the heart of a great patriot could not withstand such an attack and he died of cardiac arrest, possibly with the painting of O’Neill draped over his lifeless form.
To be honest, this is just a Twitter rumor, with no solid source that I can find, fleshed out with additional lurid details that appear to have no sourcing whatsoever. So, upon sober assessment, it’s probably not true. But it’s funny!
Were his last words were “Ow, my balls!” do you suppose?
Update: And here’s Snopes to spoil all our fun. They actually called her widow (awkward) who denied the entire story. I’ll admit I wouldn’t weight her denial very highly by itself, but apparently the New York Times (no link because paywall) corroborates her:
An article published by the New York Times and written by Adam Goldman depicted the events leading up to [the man’s] death, corroborating [his] wife’s account. A reporter for the publication was near [him] when he “fell to the sidewalk” while on the phone.
“A New York Times reporter watched as emergency personnel rushed to help, furiously performing chest compressions, but were unable to revive him,” wrote the publication.
Sunday, December 24th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
Seen here is the detail from a larger illustration by an unidentified artist, thought by a learned collector to be “the mysterious ‘Wighead'”, from a French erotic book by Clovis Hugues coyly titled “Ode a Venus” on the cover, but rather more directly “Ode au Vagin” on the inside title page.
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Monday, October 10th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
This is most of an “ink and color on silk” hanging scroll painting by Japanese artist Kawanabe Kyôsai (1831 – 1889) that’s in the collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art. It reminds me of this post from a dozen years ago:
I will not bat at my male human’s family jewels while he is engaged in the act of mating with my female human, no matter how tempting the danglies are. My humans get mad and I might get free flying lessons.
In several of the places where this artwork appears on the internet, it’s tagged as “gay” or “homoerotic”. Given that we see nothing of the penetrated figure except feet and legs, I wonder whether this is simply the natural tendency of the taggers to see the scene they wanted to see in an ambiguous work of art, or whether it’s art-historian stuff based on evidence extrinsic to the work?
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Thursday, January 30th, 2014 -- by Bacchus
If I told you that Kink.com [update: it’s now at Kink Men] has a new gay male BDSM site with a sort of game show format, in which various strong hunky dudes are challenged to endure 30 Minutes Of Torment (yup, that’s the site name) at the not-so-tender hands of Van Darkholme, would you expect to see a lot of dangling balls? Why, yes! Yes, I believe you would. And you would not be disappointed:
What, you wanted more dangling balls? OK, here you go, although I’m not sure Lance Hart appreciates you making the request:
Don’t worry. If it was perhaps actually testicles you were after, you can rest assured that all those heavy balls are tugging on a ball stretcher that is firmly wrapped around the articles in question.
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Wednesday, January 23rd, 2013 -- by Bacchus
Detail from a panel in Stella – White Nights by Loic Foster.
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Thursday, March 29th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
In which Kaya talks about sex with her master and the new girl:
The sex was phenomenal. I had been a little worried that I might have lost interest in women because I hadn’t been with one for so long, but no. Nope, it’s all still there. :)
She’s hot, and she’s sexy, and she’s warm and soft and beautiful, and good between the sheets.
And she tastes good. Yum.
She came prepared with condoms (we didn’t. Ha. The last time we used one was, um, never!). She came with creams. Tasty, tingly creams. Blow job creams. She rubbed me up and licked me off. She rubbed him up and we both licked him off. She rubbed herself up and me and him licked her off.
I liked sharing. I liked when she and I teamed up on him and shared his cock between us, taking turns licking and sucking. She’d take the balls while I took the cock, or vice versa. I’d take his nipples while she took his cock. We’d both take the cock, our tongues tangling together over the head.
I liked when she and Master teamed up on me. Her soft gentleness in such sharp contrast to Master’s hard roughness. She licks and nibbles; he bites and scratches. He’s gruff and demanding; she was sweet and considerate.
I liked when he and I teamed up on her and I licked her while he fucked her. He and I tasted her together. I sucked her nipples while he pounded her from behind. I cupped her ass cheeks, warm from a recent spanking, I gripped her hands, I kissed her lips, I moved her hair—all while Master took her, over and over again.
When M was fucking her, I kept waiting for a spark of jealousy. Or… something—but there was none of that. I spent a good bit of time off to the side watching them (and a good amount of time right there in the action, too, make no mistake) and I simply enjoyed their enjoyment. I enjoyed watching him; his face, his body. I enjoyed listening to the things he said to her, which were different to the things he says to me (surprisingly).
And I sure enjoyed the view she was giving me. So so much.
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Thursday, August 25th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
I’ve always figured that the men who enjoy cock and ball torture (CBT for short) have bought in (a bit more seriously than most of us) to the old adage “There’s no such thing as bad attention.” I’m not with them — I want the wire brush, the electrified alligator clips, and the screw clamps kept the hell away from my tender bits!
Via Kinky Delight.
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Thursday, March 1st, 2007 -- by Bacchus
From a letter to Esquire Magazine, this sound advice:
Never let your wife shave your balls when she has the hiccups.
I’m on board with that.
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