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The Sex Blog Of Record
Sunday, May 28th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
I’m pretty sure this breaks every personal-trainer rule in the personal-trainer rule book, and is a good way to get a whole lot of steel dropped on your head besides:
The art is from a sleazy-looking pulp cover, of course.
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Thursday, January 14th, 2016 -- by Bacchus
As seen in the October 2015 Hustler magazine (online access edition).
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Friday, December 4th, 2015 -- by Bacchus
For every lock, there is a key. Often that key is… boobs. (At least if your name is Elvira.)
The .gif is widely said to be from the 1988 film Elvira, Mistress Of The Dark.
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Monday, September 22nd, 2014 -- by Bacchus
Now, this is my kind of airplane nose art:
From Dr. Faustus’s Hedonic Miscellany.
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Sunday, August 3rd, 2014 -- by Bacchus
I found this mesmerizing animated .gif while doing some porn provenance research for Dr. Faustus. I think you’ll like it:
The artist is Flou and there are more here.
Friday, July 4th, 2014 -- by Bacchus
Yes, it brings all the boys to her yard:
From a photoset appearing in Nuts magazine.
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Thursday, January 31st, 2013 -- by Bacchus
When I first encountered this picture it made me think of my father (no longer with us). He’d have appreciated… well, there are the usual things about this picture he’d have appreciated, but in addition he’d have appreciated the advertising sign for the 1934 Indian motorcyle, just to the right of model Natally Gold’s head:
Found here.
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Thursday, November 1st, 2012 -- by Bacchus
So in this story, it all starts when the Pretty Girl character (played by Alyssa Branch) stared out her window at a bright summer afternoon. And she was not amused. In fact, she was bored. “Cletus, I’m bored.” Whatever is there to do?
Then she thought of something to do, and she was transformed:
Pictures courtesy of Little Mutt.
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Thursday, September 27th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
Am I the only one who thinks the world is a better place because everybody, everywhere, now has a camera at their fingertips for capturing moments of spontaneous joy? (Some of those moments are naked — extra awesome! — but that’s not essential to my point here.) Evidence:
Photo is Penny Barber, who tweeted it whilst “hitting the showers” after an Ultimate Surrender match.
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Friday, August 31st, 2012 -- by Bacchus
From Spanking Blog, on internal narratives:
Doesn’t this look like (one of) the movies that would be playing quietly in your mind if you met a taxi driver with such epic breasts and that possibly-flirtatious smile?
Or maybe that’s just me. Ooopsie!
From Red Stripe Films.
The true skill — the skill too many men don’t cultivate sufficiently — lies in letting the movies play without the images bleeding through and becoming visible on your face. (There’s a school of philosophy arguing that one shouldn’t allow the movies to play at all. But I, in my hedonism, do not hew to it.)
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Sunday, July 15th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
Who has the prettiest slave boobies of them all?
I know I should put away childish things, but I could not resist. Picture is from the August 2004 edition of Hustler’s Taboo magazine.
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Friday, March 30th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
Isn’t Cracked supposed to be a humor site? Because I don’t see much funny in this article, but I do recognize several wads of at least partial truth. I guess the funny is supposed to be in the comic exaggeration of the true-ish bits:
5 Ways Modern Men Are Trained to Hate Women
For instance, this. Although I’d have said “many men, much of the time”:
Did you ever watch old cartoons where a character is starving on a desert island, and when another character approaches, he’s so hungry that he imagines the other character as a talking piece of food?
It’s like that for most men, most of the time. We’re starving, and all women are various types of food. Only instead of food, it’s sex. And we’re trying to conduct our everyday business around the fact that we’re trying to renew our driver’s license with a talking pair of boobs. So, from about age 13 on, around 90 percent of our energy and discipline is devoted to overcoming this, to behave like civilized human beings and not like stray dogs in a meat market. One where instead of eating the meat, they want to hump it.
Tuesday, May 17th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Cartoon nipple-rubbing goodness — doesn’t it brighten your day?
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Friday, May 13th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Like they used to say, make the most of what you’ve got:
Cropped from a vintage erotic postcard seen on Titty Blog.
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Saturday, May 7th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
I found this on Tumblr under the heading “Mother and daughter at Mardi Gras.” It’s a different world when the parades start to rumble:
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Wednesday, April 13th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Your vintage porn for the day, just because it made me smile:
From Titty Blog.
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Sunday, March 20th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
You got to love it when a woman wraps up this tightly in towels, but leaves some of her better features on display:
Via Titty Blog.
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Tuesday, February 22nd, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Obviously there is more to this whole Bollywood business than I had previously realized. Apparently this is a didn’t-make-it-into-the-movie scene from a 1970s Bollywood movie called Five Rifles:
Tuesday, December 14th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
From FemJoy.
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Sunday, December 12th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Sure a vintage photograph like this will be fetish fuel for somebody. And if not, at least it’s proof that people have been doing, and taking pictures of, some kinky shit, for a long time. What we have here is the cropped version of a photo from the 1930s featuring a woman in a skin-tight latex outfit from which the nipple area has been removed:
If you click for the uncropped version, of course she’s wearing high heels, too.
Was it originally supposed to be art, or porn? I have no idea.
Update: Possibly a photo of Yva Richards.
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Thursday, October 21st, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Like the lady says on the defunct Tumblr said, “if it’s got sprinkles and frosting, I’m probably going to lick it.”
Monday, September 6th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
I don’t know which illuminated-for-the-tourists ruin that is our lovely traveler is standing in front of, but I’ll give her this, she knows how to liven up the vacation honeymoon photos:
Found on Tumblr.
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Monday, March 8th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
“He won’t keep his hands off my boobs!” is a complaint that many a man has earned, true enough. But it’s one of those complaints a wise man doesn’t take entirely at face value. Often, when applied to a lover, the complaint is more about timing or venue or level of applied enthusiasm; it’s a rare woman who wants them left 100% the hell alone. And if you think rough treatment is never appreciated by any woman, here’s a photographic counter argument:
That’s from Sex and Submission via Kinky Delight.
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Thursday, February 18th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
You know what they say: if you got it, flaunt it!
From Titty Blog.
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Tuesday, September 8th, 2009 -- by Bacchus
“I would remonstrate with him on the topic of hats.”
From the Titty Blog.
Thursday, August 6th, 2009 -- by Bacchus
She had to show them off:
This comes to us from alt. binaries. pictures. erotica. cartoons, but I think it might be originally from Rooie Oortjes.
Tuesday, December 2nd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I have checked the date on this story, and it is not April 1:
$200k worth of inflatable boobs lost at sea
SYDNEY – More than 130,000 inflatable breasts have been lost at sea en route to Australian.
Men’s magazine Ralph was planning to include the boobs as a free gift with its January issue.
The cargo is worth about $200,000, which is another blow for publisher ACP’s parent company PBL, which is already in $4.3 billion of debt.
A spokeswoman for Ralph said the container left docks in Beijing two weeks ago but turned up empty in Sydney this week.
The magazine has put out an alert to shipping authorities to see if they have the container, but if they don’t turn up in the next 48 hours it will be too late for the next issue, she said.
Ralph editor Santi Pintado urged anyone who has any information to contact the magazine.
“Unless Somali pirates have stolen them its difficult to explain where they are,” Pintado told AAP.
“If anyone finds any washed up on a beach, please let us know.”
Mr. Pintado may be a bit confused about his piratical geography (the sea route from China to Australia doesn’t pass through the waters infested by Somali pirates) but the more traditional Indonesian crews in the Malacca Straights may be pillowing their weary heads as we speak on the sweet vinyl bosoms of their latest haul.
That’s really all I have to say, except for another hearty “YARR!”
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Thursday, October 2nd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I freely admit to being wholly ignorant about the anatomical details of human lactation, knowing only that, under appropriate circumstances, there can be milk, and that glands and ducts are involved. As a guy who has never been a father, I figure the details are not my department.
That said, when I stumbled over this fetish lactation picture among the cover art on a Japanese DVD, I was somewhat startled to note that in this picture (and in every other picture on the box) milk was being expressed in numerous divergent streams:
What’s up with that? I guess I always assumed, you know, basic bilateral symmetry, two boobs, two nipples, two ducts, two quirts of milk, two cups of coffee. That hard-working right nipple up there is pumping out, what, four squirts and a dribble?
I could Google it, but it’s easier and more fun just to say something ignorant on the internets and wait for all the helpful people to come along and set me straight…
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Friday, May 23rd, 2008 -- by Bacchus
A nice vintage nudie photograph, starring a model with an unusual facial expression:
Monday, March 31st, 2008 -- by Bacchus
I can’t seem to stay away from the vintage:
Look at her face, boys, look at her face. Make eye contact. Smile. You know the drill!
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Sunday, December 23rd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Last night I saw three television commercials in a row starring women in cute-but-slutty red elf costumes. When I remarked to the Nymph, she looked at me like I was mentally slow, and said “Well, it’s that time of year, dear.”
I suppose it is. So here I am, jumping on the bandwagon, and here’s your woman in (half of) an elf costume:
I found it on Usenet, where the original file name suggested a possible initial publication in an early men’s magazine called Monsieur.
Sunday, June 10th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Overheard by The Barmaid:
Girl: Look at the boobs on that bartender. They’re enormous! My boobs aren’t big enough.
Boy: Your boobs are perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.
Girl: You’re only saying that because I blow you at least once every single day.
Boy: I’ll admit, it doesn’t hurt.
Monday, May 14th, 2007 -- by Bacchus
[Update: The animated .gif was thrashing my server, please click the thumbnail or here to see it now.]
I’m hearing Scotty in my head: “I’m sorry Captain, we just can’t contain them any longer!”
From Titty Blog.
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Wednesday, February 28th, 2007 -- by Aphrodite
Evil Science Chick ranted the other day about how guys are cum obsessed. Amusing, but I disagree, because I do love swallowing as long as it doesn’t taste awful, and I like having it rubbed into my boobs, etc. It’s one of my favorite fluids and I’m happy to be getting alot more of it these days.
And I guess I’m obsessed too……last weekend I went with J to a friend’s house, and while they were talking buses and ports and firewalls, I got bored, until his friend’s screensaver started. It was the best, sexiest screensaver I have EVER seen! It looked like lots of sperm of different colors, dancing all over the screen, sometimes lining up side by side and other times fusing together in a psychedelic explosion of swirling color. By the time we got out of there I was really horny….J didn’t know why but he sure didn’t complain!
I don’t know whether I should try to find that screensaver to put on my computer or not. I might not get any work done!
Friday, October 27th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
As long time readers will remember, whenever the subject of female ejaculation comes up, we hear from people wedded to their belief that female ejaculation is a myth and that female ejaculate is “just pee”. As I said last time, “Erosblog is NOT going to be a forum for spreading sexual ignorance and doubt on this topic.”
For any lingering doubters among my readership, however, I submit a couple of posts from Giardino del Piacere: Wet Emails and More Wet Emails. Lots of intimate details from women who have no reason to dissemble:
First, I’d love everyone to know, normal women like Eva and me ejaculate. I can’t speak for Eva, but I’m no porn star. I’m a woman rapidly approaching menopause. I have history, boobs that sag some, squishy thighs and a drooping bottom. Nope, not porn star material at all, but I can sure squirt like one.
Second, I believe and as she indicated in her messages, Eva believes, that any woman can learn to ejaculate. It takes only a willingness to let go when the urge to ‘let go’ hits. If you’ve ever experienced a screaming urge to pee while having great sex or bringing yourself pleasure, you are probably a squirter waiting to be born. You’re never too old or young to learn. Eva has a long history of ejaculating, mine is something I’ve discovered within the past year.
Third, squirting not a bad or dirty thing. It is not urine. No, I’m not a physiologist or a physician. I’m the owner of the coochie that drenches the bed. At my age, I truly know the difference between urinating and the sensations I have when I ejaculate. Often I have to visit the bathroom shortly after sex. Logic tells me if I were urinating and not squirting I would have relieved myself.
Friday, October 20th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
If it’s possible to talk about big fake boobs without condemning anybody’s choices or tastes, I’ll kick off by admitting that I do not like them, Sam I am. I’ve said this before here on my humble little sex blog.
It’s rather a strong preference. I don’t like the way they look in naked pictures, I don’t like the way they sometimes jut out in bad directions and look like lost sports equipment buried under overtaxed skin, and I imagine I wouldn’t like the way they feel, though I reserve the right to change my mind if I ever actually get my hands on any (not very likely, given predictable objections The Nymph might have). They are, simply put, not to my taste.
But more than that, I don’t like the opportunity cost they represent. Wrapped around every fake boob is the residual flesh of — it seemeth to me — a mutilated boob, one that I, or somebody else, might have liked, but will never get to see.
Of course, it’s important to remember: they weren’t, they aren’t, my boobs. Nothing “lost” that I had any say about, none of my business, et cetera. One man’s mutilation is another woman’s joyful body modification, and of course it’s her body. Body modification, however extreme, is clearly well within the self-ownership rights of every free being, no matter how much it may squick me. And so forth.
None of which prevents me from feeling, in a visceral way, bewildered every time I see them. “What was she thinking?” I wonder. “How could she?” “Why, o great but diminished gods of Olympus, why?”
Pretty Dumb Things to the rescue! Chelsea Girl says why:
I am for myself a fan of the big breasts. However, that preference is merely for my own; I find other women’s breasts beautiful in all sizes and shapes. I have found myself equally attracted to women who burgeoned with double-scooped sundaes of breasts and to whose who were flat as a grey-glass sea. I am an equal-opportunity bisexual when it comes to other women’s breasts. But for myself, I’ve always liked myself best as a big-breasted chick.
Always. Even when I was somewhere in between an A and a B cup, the size that my genetics gave me. My breasts grew suddenly, one night when I was twelve. It felt as if one day I had those telltale puffy areolas of nascent pubescence and the next morning I had a gently cupped palm full of breast. Which would have been fine, except that in addition to growing my fresh spanky shiny boobs, I had also grown blighted bright red stretch marks that emanated out from my mallowmar areolas like ugly stringy weedy flowers.
That night when I was twelve and finally grew my boobs, when I woke that morning to find them, like stingy treats from a cranky titfairy, I felt severely cheated. From having grown up with fresh-air loving, naked-in-the-rain-dancing hippie parents and grown up around my mother’s brothers and their 60s and 70s-era Playboy and Penthouse magazines, I knew full fucking well what boobs were supposed to look like, and I knew these striped things on my chest weren’t it.
Moreover, I had, from the time I was very young, known that great big American breasts were my birthright. When I played grown up with my little friends, and we all shoved socks into our tanktops or bathing suits, I always stuck three or four pairs against each flat brown nipple, stretching my top out to tent-strained excess, and then I would stand back and admire my body. Growing up, I thought Raquel Welch, Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield owned the body that I myself would grow to inhabit.
My own breasts, the ones my DNA gave me, were a mystifying disappointment.
Of course she’s just getting going when I stop quoting, there’s much more. Enlightening and useful, even if, at the end of the day, we must fall back upon the ancient wisdom: de gustibus non disputandem.
Wednesday, August 16th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Violet Blue threatens:
If I have to sit through another body-by-Barbie production where the chicks’ boobs look like those Alien face-huggers about to burst out and kill me…
She’s not just making that up, it’s a real risk, and not just in bad porn movies. Don’t believe me? I have proof:
Thursday, May 11th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
CJ at Boyspoke posts from the front lines in an LA gym, about getting glared at when looking at women:
The thing is, these women — you know, the ones at the gym? They’re dressed — umm — gorgeously. Yes, even at the gym. I mean, I know Spandex is a privilege and not a right, but these women deserve to wear Spandex. Some of them even go as far as to wear athletic bras. And just athletic bras…at least on top; yes, they put on stuff that covers their other parts. It’s like, hel-LO, gorgeous women are all around me and some of them are dressed in even less than the ones I see walking down the street!
Naturally, I look. And I’m not really a gawker, but there are some times when I’m checking out the women. You would, too. It’s not like I’m making comments and pointing or being incredibly obvious or anything like that, I’m just, you know…gently checking them out. The problem is: some of them apparently don’t take kindly to being checked out. I get dirty looks in return.
I call foul on that. In fact, I call triple-foul on that. For crying out loud, if you’re dressed in an outfit like that, how can you expect me not to check you out? You’re wearing next to nothing. And the stuff that you are wearing is barely leaving anything to the imagination. Honestly, I think it’s be a crime for me not to look.
Here’s my thing: If you don’t want to be checked out, then dress accordingly. If you don’t want me to look at your boobs, cover them. If you don’t want me to admire your legs, don’t wear short shorts. There’s no law that prohibits you from wearing a loose t-shirt and baggy track pants instead of a sports bra and Spandex Daisy Dukes. And if you do wear the sports bra and Spandex Daisy Dukes … you’re not allowed to be displeased when I check you out.
First of all, there’s admittedly a line between looking and leering that not all men can find — or maybe they just don’t care to. But if we assume, despite the dirty look evidence to the contrary, that CJ is safely on the right side of the line with his “gently checking them out”, what’s up with that?
I know the gym is a problem for some women; in my town we’ve got women-only gyms and gyms with women-only areas for just this reason. But at the coed gym, when a woman has dressed to impress, does she really expect the guys to maintain monastic eyes-front-and-downcast look-at-nothing-but-the-equipment-in-front-of-me eyeball discipline? If so, is she not manifestly insane?
I have my own theory, which is that when she’s dressed to impress but glaring at you for looking, you’re not in the category of people whose eye she hoped to catch. Just for instance, you might be a man, ugh, and she might be there to attract the gaze of another woman. Or you might not meet her standard of beauty; she wants to catch the eye of someone as svelte as herself, and can’t abide being looked at by some regularly-sized slug.
Thursday, December 15th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
No, not literally crapping; this isn’t that sort of website.
Over on Figleaf’s Real Adult Sex, Figleaf posted a long entry about folks who come to blogs where there are nekkid pictures, only to leave strongly derisive comments about the nekkid pictures in question. He likened such folks to trolls, and suggested deleting the body-critical comments plus the standard troll cure: ignoring them.
I posted a long comment over there, which this post mostly duplicates, not because I disagree with the prescription (I don’t) but because I don’t think the nasty body-critical comments are really deliberate trolling behavior. A true troll knows he’s a troll; these guys (and they are always guys) are just bringing to the internet their “normal” obnoxious behavior from daily life.
Here at ErosBlog, I’ve always been ruthless about deleting anything that attempts to drag down my attempt at maintaining a body-positive, sex-positive, kink-friendly editorial tone. For example, awhile back I posted some public nude shots of Kirsten Dunst, and attracted a whole host of folks commenting on how ugly her breasts supposedly are. She’s pretty by any reasonable measure, so what’s up with that? I dunno, but the ugly comments I had to delete far outnumbered the ones that remain.
What I’ve learned running a sex blog is that there are a whole host of guys whose only mode of discourse about bodily appearance is to make a negative comment. I think perhaps it originates in adolescent one-upsmanship; one guy says “Sally’s hot, I’d like to do her” and the other guys all say “No, man, she’s a pig, she’s got a huge ass” as a way of belittling the first guy. However it started, the result is a fairly large class of guys whose reflex response whenever they see an erotic picture is to say something mean and ugly about the body depicted.
It’s clearly an act of emotional aggression, some sort of attempt to establish superiority by expressing contempt for that which other people consider beautiful. An extreme form of this (which I’ve seen in various places on the internet) is the “It’s a tranny” game. The way the “game” is played is to post a picture of an unknown but pretty woman, and then wait until other men admit that the woman shown is lustworthy. Then the trap springs, as the original poster (or others) assert “It’s a tranny!” It doesn’t have to be true; the point is merely to score points by belittling another man’s opinions about sexual attractiveness.
I guess the point of all this is to suggest to other bloggers that they not take it quite so personally. If you post your boobs or butt on your blog and some nasty guy makes a rude comment, it’s possible that he doesn’t hate you specifically and didn’t stop by your blog to cause trouble specifically for you. More likely, he’s just a boorish lout who says “fat ass!” by reflex whenever he sees a pretty butt. It’s not aimed at you at all; it’s male posturing aimed at the other men who are admiring your ass.
Sure, delete his comment, just the way you’d evict a stinky drunk who stumbled into your living room from the street. But don’t take the comments so much to heart, any more than you’d worry about the good opinion of the drunk.
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Monday, November 7th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
Remember Badger Badger Badger? This is like that, only for grownups: Animated Boobs.
Wednesday, June 29th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
Want to see some serious shaking? Go to Kibomba, and look top-right. Had me mezmerized for several minutes. :blush:
Monday, January 10th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
There are some things no zipper should be asked to contain. These are two of those things:
Yet another gem from Usenet.
Thursday, November 18th, 2004 -- by Aphrodite
Luscious breasts are great to admire, but just as eating the same breakfast every day can get old, the same old views of titties can lose their power to capture one’s interest.
Ever-vigilant to keep that from happening to our dear readers, I’m happy to say this photo ought to do it:
Sure got my attention…..then made me wonder, What would my boobs look like from underneath?
Another mystery find.
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Tuesday, April 6th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Halley’s own post title will tease you better than anything I can write:
Digital Pix of My Big Boobs.
You know you have to go look….
Wednesday, January 21st, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Although ErosBlog does not cover politics very much at all, I’ve long seen this sex blogging project as being my little contribution to a vital culture war. Because we are very sexual monkeys, control over sexual expression is one of the most important tools in the arsenal of the orcs who seek to govern and enslave us. (“Govern and enslave? Sorry, I repeat myself.”)
Daze and others have amply covered the case of Melissa Lincoln, the Nebraska lady who likes to get naked in public and enjoys making a buck when she does it. She’s been charged with public nudity, and faces actual jail time for it (although doubtless she’ll be offered a nice plea bargain that requires her to promise she’ll keep her pretty naked assets securely wrapped). After all, the point is to control sexual expression, remember? This isn’t about Melissa, it’s about reminding everyone that the orcs are watching and they will come for you if you don’t follow their rules.
Except that Melissa wants to fight. The liberty activists at the Liberty Round Table have been in touch with her, and it turns out that she doesn’t plan to knuckle under. She wants to fight this “all the way” and she doesn’t intend to plea bargain.
That’s a big ouchie, folks. A basic misdemeanor criminal defense starts at five grand, and that price assumes you’ll take any decent plea bargain. Appeals often cost thirty grand apiece, and you can need several.
The Knights of Nonaggression over at the Liberty Round Table have a list of what you can do to help, but the most obvious thing you can do is throw money. In Melissa’s case, the easiest way you can do that is to buy a membership at her web site. Sure, it’s commercial, but this is no “help me buy some fake boobs” bogus plea; the lady really does face jail time if she stands up for basic freedoms here. She will be under tremendous pressures to take a plea. As the LRT puts it:
For our part, we are not exhibitionists, but do believe that anything that de-mystifies sex, shows that good clean fun and healthy bodies are not ‘dirty’, is a very positive thing. There’s no end to the flood of misery produced by people’s twisted ideas about sex, love, and the human body, so we say: ‘Hurray for Melissa’s one woman war against benighted puritan attitudes!’ That Melissa’s site has a commercial side makes her work no less valuable — have not libertarians and objectivists always said that freedom is so valuable that there ought to be a way to promote it at a profit? We agree with Melissa; she has nothing to be ashamed of, not her body, not her pictures, not her profit.
…
It seems to me that there is no better way to show appreciation for an artist than to pay for her work; it has a better, cleaner feel than straight charity and allows her to be able to give some value in return for the help.
Indeed. And thanks to Don and Sunni at the Liberty Round Table for getting in touch with Melissa and publicizing her will to fight!
Wednesday, November 5th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
She sent me this picture to give me a giggle:
Women and duct tape, what’s not to like? She knows me well.
What, when I said “a picture” you were expecting something else?
As it happens, she did send me a picture of herself last night. And yes, it did have a thematic connection with the above photograph. But y’all don’t get to see it, because her face is visible.
I’m such a tease….
Wednesday, January 1st, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Alert readers will note that ErosBlog does not link to a lot of actual porn sites. Mostly this is a reader protection measure. Commercial online porn tends to be hideously abusive to its potential customers, punishing them for their curious visit with endless loops of browser-killing pop-ups, browser modification scripts, spyware installers, dialer programs, and other malicious treats.
However, another reason porn sites aren’t discussed more on ErosBlog is that commercial porn tends to be boring. There’s a fetishistic focus on distorted plastic boobs, fake blond hair, and shaved oiled surfaces that frankly don’t look like anything ordinary folks generally manage to have sex with.
Via a link found at Totalitarianism Today, we learn the hopeful news that folks trying to break with the oiled shaved plastic blonde tradition are making money. Good on them; perhaps it will catch on.
Monday, December 2nd, 2002 -- by Bacchus
Thanks to the Reverse Cowgirl for linking us to AccordionGuy who, in turn, offers for your viewing pleasure two large pictures of scarves shaped like boobs:
Apparently the pendulous breasts scarf is all the rage in Japan.
Nope…not making this up. Couldn’t.
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