Just One Little Lick On Her Nipple

Photo is vintage in appearance, but no source is available.

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Prepare The Dildo

Since this large curved lumpy-bumpy glass dildo will soon be going up her ass without any other lube, it’s really quite important that she make the most of this brief opportunity to moisten it with her mouth:

Picture is from The Wasteland. The dildo? I’m not sure which model that is. There are many similar glass and Pyrex dildos out there.

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In Love With Her Microphone

Here’s a woman with an intimate relationship to the tools of her trade:

It’s Nina Hagen, who (according to her Wikipedia entry) “demonstrated (while clothed, but explicitly) various female masturbation positions” on television. Yes, it’s on YouTube.

Jack’s Fine Dog

You all know by now that I’m partial to ancient tidbits of vulgar and smutty verse, the grownup equivalent of nursery rhymes. If ever there were a verse that deserved to be called doggerel, this would be it:

Brave Jack of Winchester had a fine dog,
The finest that ever was seen,
He gave it to his Mistress
To keep her company.
This Dog was used to run by her side,
When she was going to hunt,
And all the night long it lay in the bed
A licking about her cunt.
Come husband, away with this filthy cur,
It makes my flesh to rise,
He left off all, and to her did fall,
And slipped between her thighs.
Thine or mine, for a pint of wine,
And we’ll have it for supper:
Had you but seen her stretched at length,
How strongly he did tup her.

When Smoking Was Sexy

I’m really not old enough to remember the era when smoking cigarettes was supposed to be sexy. I’m thankful for that; my reaction to cigarettes is revulsion in varying degrees depending on proximity. I’ve always been one of those people for whom the idea of kissing a smoker is like the thought of licking out an ashtray — which is to say, retch-inducing even in the imagination.

Given that, images like this always strike me as particularly jarring:

Sometimes I wonder: if the tobacco industry spent a century and untold billions selling the notion that people who smoke are sexier than people who don’t, why hasn’t ADM and the rest of the modern mechanized processed-foods industry managed to use its advertising billions to convince people that a physique born of corn syrup and white flour, deep fried in canola oil, is sexy? If you’ve see the people in WALL*E, you’ll know what I’m asking — why isn’t that future here now, being reinforced throughout our popular culture the way smoking was in 1950?

(Please don’t misunderstand — although I’m personally closer to the WALL*E vision than I am to the sammich-deprived fashion-industry ideal of good looks, I wouldn’t approve of the food industry winning that propaganda war any more than I approve of the way the tobacco industry won theirs for many decades. I’m just curious why they don’t seem to be fighting it, when they’ve got the deep pockets and the profit motive and the utter lack of conscience that would let ’em do it.)

Free Hardcore Kink: Leather Belts For Bondage

I just discovered that Kink.com has a “free hardcore kink” thumbnails page [update: used to have] where you get get a sort of running view of all the recent updates they’ve done across all their sites, with direct links into a bunch of the free sample galleries like the ones I sometimes link to here. Clicking around on that page got me this “fun with leather belts” image that I thought was visually very striking. But then again, I’ve always been fond of fine old leather:

From Whipped Ass. The full LeiLani shoot has a larger version of the photo.

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Brass Lesbians

This is something I saw on eBay many years ago. I thought then, and still think, that the artwork was unusually attractive:

What’s bizarre to me is that this artifact appears to be, and appears from the corrosion patterns to have been used as, an ashtray. Who really stubs out their cigarettes (cigars?) on pretty brass girls who are licking each other?

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Fellatio Girl

This intent raven-haired beauty was originally drawn, I believe, in the pages of an Italian fumetti comic called Pig:

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Dangerous Female Parts

BJ from BJ’s Gay Porno-crazed Ramblings is one of the very few people on my blogroll who have been doing this sex blog thing longer than I have. He appears to have a vintage gay porn collection of enormous depth and scope, bits of which he sometimes blogs about when he offers them (the bits) for sale on eBay. It is, however, exceedingly rare for BJ to mention anything that might involve the risk of girl-cooties, which makes this description doubly hilarious:

WARNING! DANGER!

I can only hope you read the warning! danger! before clicking for the clip. It’s from my all-time favorite (porno) film, BUT it involves a chick. To my closest friends who know me as a Kinsey 8, the fact that I can not only watch, but actually enjoy this scene is bewildering. Roy Garrett goes to the local porno shop (in rural Montana in 1982 – willing suspension of disbelief, anyone?) and winds up feeding dollars to Jolene (wonderfully portrayed by Suzanne Tyson, who you no doubt remember form the 1981 classic, Wanda Whips Wall Street, but I digress…) and doing terrible, disgusting, sickening things – meaning he touches “it”, she touches her own “it”, he even… oh, I can’t even type it… but there’s also these two other guys watching, and watching each other. It’s not about gaysex, it’s about Male Bonding (with a vengeance, as the video box says).

I —– JUST —– LOVE IT!

He’s talking about a film called Heatstroke, and he’s kindly included a link to a ten minute clip.

Rimming Molly In The Basement

You don’t see too many fictional accounts of rimming, and this is the first I’ve ever seen that has a little funny twist at the end. It’s from this story by Vinnie Tesla:

Impulsively, I bury my face in an armpit, and drink in her sharp animal smell. She’s moaning and laughing at once as my beard tickles her delicate skin. I lick along the line of her shoulder blade, the muscles there flexing as she struggles playfully. I throw her tee-shirt to the ground, and push her against one of the basement’s grimy cinderblock walls. I pin her arms above her head, and give the other armpit a more thorough treatment.

She starts out laughing and twitching, but this gives way to quiet moans, that get louder when I bite. I release her arms and run my lips over the pale, freckled flesh above her bra. Impatiently I pull the bra up over her tits, and fix my mouth over one of her nipples, crinkled tight in the basement’s chill air. My hands find the catch of her bra, and it joins her tee shirt on the floor. Once again she grabs my head and holds it tightly as I worry and suck at her fat little bud. I hold her other breast in my hand. The flesh is breathtakingly soft, and fever-hot. I pull the nipple roughly, stretching the crinkles smooth. “Yeah,” she whispers in my ear, her hot breath sending shivers down my spine, “yeah.”

Still cradling my head with one hand, her other strokes the front of my jeans, and cups my cock with her open palm. “Mmm, nice,” she purrs.

“You like it?” I ask, my hands kneading her breasts, “soon it’s going to be buried in your cunt.”

She looks me in the eye teasingly. “Just my cunt?”

I open and close my mouth several times like a goldfish. So much for my attempt at the suave dirty-talker.

Molly laughs at my expression and begins struggling to get the legs of her overalls over her boots. Watching her breasts sway as she works, bent over, is irresistible. She tugs the overalls down her thighs, and sits on the floor to pull them off. Then, with a yelp, she’s up off the cold, damp concrete again, rubbing her chilled ass.

“Here, let me help with that,” I volunteer, and squat behind her. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Molly, you have got an amazing ass.” Broader than I expected, exquisitely round and smooth. Dusted with pale freckles. Flawless, so far as I can see. Groaning, I grab her hips and bury my face in that exquisite butt, licking and biting at the smooth, taut flesh. She presses back against me, and wiggles her hips slowly and sexily, enjoying the attention. Eventually, though: “Weren’t you gonna help me get my clothes off?”

“I got sidetracked,” I admit, and jerk her panties down to her knees before resuming my feast.

She begins skeptically, “That’s not a whole lot of– oooh, that feels good.” I’m kneading her cheeks hard with my hands now, while licking teasingly around the top of her crack.

“Bend over,” I tell her.

“Yes, sir!” she says sarcastically, but does so, resting her hands against the wall, and spreading her legs as much as her bunched clothes will allow. I stroke her ass lightly

“You want me to?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, almost inaudibly.

I pull at one of her cheeks, exposing her hidden parts. The skin of her anus is surprisingly dark, and fringed with wispy reddish hair. Below, the lips of her cunt are fat and swollen. She flinches a little when the wet handiwipe from my pocket touches the sensitive flesh of her asshole. I run it over the surface a few times, and then drop it onto the floor. My hands spread her cheeks, and I begin running my tongue along the skin just above her anus. Then I move down, and lick at her perineum, drawing a gasp from Molly. Finally I bring my tongue to her clenched little orifice, and rub against it with gentle pressure.

She lets a little shriek escape, followed by a low moan. I feel goosepimples rise on her muscular thighs, as she reaches down and cups her cunt in one hand. I’m alternating broad, spiraling licks with tighter, more aggressive ones, loving the feel of her soft flesh against my face. She’s slowly undulating her hips; each breath out is a long quiet moan.

The rocking of her hips accelerates; her voice rises in pitch. I (teasing bastard) rise to my feet and draw her up too. It takes a moment for her eyes to focus again, and then I’m seized in a bruising hug. “Oh, wow,” she says dreamily, “Oh, that was really nice. I haven’t done that before.”

“My *pleasure*,” I say emphatically. “But I’m a little confused. You said you wanted me to rim you, right?”

She grins. “I wanted you to *spank* me, you twit.” Before the blood can stop roaring in my ears, she continues: “Now help me get these off!”

Of course she does eventually get her spanking, which is how (via Spanking Blog) I came upon this story.

Celebrate This!

OK, despite the appearance of the link at the bottom of this post, this is not a political post. Of course, what you do with said link, I wash my hands of that.

{*scrub* *scrub*}

One of the most ancient and funnest games on the internet is posting links that aren’t quite what they seem, tricking folks into clicking on them to their immediate surprise or regret. These days the cool kids seem to be calling this a “rickroll” — apparently there’s a YouTube music video by Rick somebody that’s been a frequent destination of misleading linkage lately. I’m an old fart, I remember when Goatse.cx and Tubgirl were all the rage. These things are timeless; I’m sure there’s somebody out there who remembers clicking a falsely-described link in their Mosaic browser to some ASCII penis art with ejaculating semi-colons.

With all that talk to serve as your warning, and with you bearing in mind the sorts of things ErosBlog routinely links to, here’s an Erosblog-Approved destination:

Celebrate Bush!

The Porn We Don’t Show You

It sounds like the Girl With A One Track Mind has been getting some of the same emails ErosBlog gets, trying to promote some of the porn I try not to promote:

During the four years I have been writing this blog I have regularly received emails from one particular contingent of the internet. It doesn’t take much guessing who: porn sites who want me to link, plug and promote their products. Usually I just scan these emails and deposit them straight into my spam folder. Why? I’ll explain, using an email I received last night as a good example.

“Dear Abby,” it begins, “Like you, I am very interested in getting discussion of sex, naughtiness ad [sic] all things deeed [sic] taboo by the Great British public [sic] into the wide world.”

Even given the atrocious spelling, this sounded promising.

However, the email then continued and asked me to plug a certain satellite television station where there would be “lezzed-up action,” “two girls will get seriously hardcore,” and where the show would include “full-frontal bean-flicking, boob bouncing, cunt lapping fun.”

As soon as I read that the email got junked, along with all the other offers to extend the size of my penis or buy generic viagra.

Yeah, you can bet I get mail like this every day. The Girl has a variety of issues with it, but I pick up here with her third issue, which I endorse wholeheartedly:

I might be willing to plug some porn, if the stuff recommended to me wasn’t so dreadfully offensive and insulting to my sex. Clicking on the link the porn webmaster (and yes, besides wonderful people like Ms Naughty, there are very few porn webmistresses) sent me, I found the following titles:

“Hotel Bitches”
“Bitch in a box”
“Cunt suckers”
“Babe spotting”
“Dirty pig”

And this is a sample that is relatively pleasant; there’s also the usual labelling of women as sluts or whores, alongside the bitches, babes, cunts and nymphos. Whichever it is, it’s the same thing overall: if there is sex onscreen, it’s likely to be focussed on the women, and those women have to be insulted and degraded (in words and/or perhaps actions) in some way. To my mind, this is just as offensive to men as it is to women – suggesting that men can not get off on explicit imagery that is not disrespecting women. Excuse me, but I think that is utter bollocks. Naked people fucking are naked people fucking and it’s hot to watch – so why bring in the sexist and misogynist titles?

It’s this position that most porn defaults to, that I find so offensive. And, let me be frank, a turn off too. There’s nothing like a bit of sexism (and racism) to put a girl off her stroke – and this girl likes her stroke very fucking much, thanks, hence why I am so particular about the porn I consume.

I’ve called this the “bitch-cunt-slut” porn marketing syndrome, and frankly it baffles me. Who enjoys that? Obviously some pornographers think that’s what heats up their male market, but are they right? Who are these men supposedly buying this stuff? The men I know love women. Yeah, some of them have old fashioned redneck attitudes and don’t really respect women as equals, but they still love them.

They don’t want a “bitch in a box” — even in a bondage fantasy, they want a hot babe in a box.

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Lick My Cucumber

Random cute party photo:

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It’s New Year’s Eve!

I hope you’re preparing to do something fun tonight, the way this young lady is:

The Nymph was trying to pull together a small family-and-friends party at our house tonight, but some last minute waffling by various people and a babysitter bailing on one invitee has made her wonder whether anybody will show up. I told her not to worry, we’ve got three bottles of bubbly, and there are toys Santa brought us that we haven’t played with yet. We can’t lose!

Picture credit: Whipped Ass.

Sexually Suggestive Gesture, Redux

Remember my post about the finger V with licking guesture? Well, apropos of nothing, here’s an animated .gif of it that I stumbled across:

Rosario Dawson Licks Panties?

It seems she does.

Following up on Rosario Dawson’s sexually suggestive licking gesture, now we have this picture:

(No link credit for this picture, because the celebrity photo blog I found it on was a hellish nightmare of popups, interstitials, flying whack-a-mole flash ads, and other user-hostile crud. Besides, they didn’t say where they got it either.)

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Sexually Suggestive Gesture

I have a question for my readers. Namely, what is the significance and/or common cultural context of this sexually suggestive gesture-and-maneuver where a woman wags her tongue between her spread fingers?

I, myself, have only seen this done “in the wild” on one occasion, when it was directed at me by a street-walking prostitute outside the entrance to the Sputnik Hotel in Moscow in the late 1980s. In that context, it appeared to be a sexual come-on designed to transcend language barriers. But I’ve been told that it is also used, in certain times and places, as a rude gesture, like the almost universal “middle finger” or the old Roman fig.

It seems to suggest pussy licking, which strikes me as equally odd for a prostitute or for the deliverer of an insult. Unless, as in insult, it is supposed to suggest “you lick pussy” and stems from times or cultures where that might be considered an insult to a man’s virility?

I’d google it, but I don’t know what to call it. So, what’s the verdict? What does it mean to you, and why?

Being Handy

Remember what Red says: “If the women don’t find you handsome, they should at least find you handy.”

I rather suspect they find Monmouth to be both:

“With a little patience, you could probably get your whole hand in there.”

Audrey had invited me over for an afternoon of fun and games. Now she was lying back on a pile of pillows, legs spread, and her pussy dripping all over my fingers and tongue.

I pulled back and looked at her beautifully proportioned slit. Her pussy felt so small and tight around my two fingers. I had been licking and fingering her for a good while already, and I was in no rush. Carefully, I massaged around her pussy, stroking, licking and insinuating my way in with three, then four fingers, a bit of lube, and a lot of attention to her clit along the way.

Gradually, she opened up more and more.

After she had gotten accustomed to four fingers and most of my hand, it was time to get my thumb in. I pulled out part of the way and added more lube to everything. Her eyes, wide and glistening, followed the way I spread the lubricant all over my hand. She wanted, and yet…

My fingers formed a wedge, thumb pressed against the palm as tightly as possible. It was easier than I thought. The whole hand slid in. Suddenly, shockingly, I could cup her entire cervix in my palm.

Then I formed a fist.

Audrey let out a deep growl or groan or some other noise that came all the way from down below. She reached up to grab me by the neck and pulled me in for a wet, deep kiss, unbalancing me so that the weight of my body shifted on to the hand now fully buried inside her.

Staring into my eyes, hers wide, not quite focused. she let go of my neck. “Take a look…”

I pulled back and saw, incredibly, the naked lips of her pussy wrapped all the way around my wrist.

My hand was fully inside her. I moved it around, carefully, starting to fuck her with my clenched fist….

A Hairy Licking

Generally when I post vintage photos, I have to delete half a dozen comments bitching about body hair. Kids these days, you’d think their fashions were some sort of natural law. (Anyway, my solution to that is to post more vintage photographs; eventually maybe the lesson will soak in that fashions change, and that history is not automatically gross. Never mind the more subtle truth that fashions in body hair vary along demographic lines, even today. In short, your mom may have more pussy hair than your favorite waxed-and-plucked porn starlet, and your dad still thinks your mom is hot. Exercise coping skills.)

Moving rapidly along: but what is a body to do when the notable vintage hairdos in question are on heads?

For help in pondering that, I offer up this taxonomy of hairdos from a 70’s Ebony magazine. Enjoy!

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

It’s Christmas Eve of course, and so many folks will be leaving milk and cookies out for Santa Clause. If you should accidentally spill the milk, make sure not to let it go to waste:

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Nymphs! Frolicking! Nude!

In my Bacchus persona as well as in real life, it’s fair to say I don’t know much about art. But I know what I like:

And if it isn’t pretty girls frolicking naked in the sunshine, I don’t know what it might be. Art, I tell you, art! And the artist is one Charles Joseph Frederic Soulacroix. Here’s a slightly larger version.

Now, who brought the butter?

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Penis Licking And Ball Fingering

This bit of blowjob erotica may (he emphasized, may) be by an artist named Fendi, and may date to the 1830s. That’s based on a filename of dubious value, so you pays your money and you takes your chances:

And yes, you’re getting a lot of pictures lately. For various reasons, my blog-surfing time is at a minimum right now, and it won’t be getting any bigger until after Thanksgiving. So meanwhile, it’s to be a steady diet of visual filler from my extensive collection of filez. I’ll do my best to make it entertaining.

Toe Licking and Foot Washing

Random photo from the very large image collection, featuring bondage and foot licking:

I actually know some folks who attend “foot washing” events, but they claim it’s a religious thing (emulating Jesus) and not a fetish thing. I suppose skepticism on my part would seem churlish. In any case, I don’t think they do it the way the girl in the photo does it.

Naked Sliding, Brrr

You can feel the autumn in the air where I am, and winter will be here before we know it. And that, of course, means frolicking in the snow! But there’s too much cold steel in this picture for my taste:

At least he’s wearing a sock!

ErosBlog FAQ

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.”
• 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.
• 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.
• 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?”
  

• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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

Pearls of Ecstasy

In which Femme Fatale demonstrates why girlfriends have nothing to fear from strippers:

To return to the moment: the moon is outside my window and my sleepy mind is fuzzy as I think about strippers and lap dances and how I must be better than a skanky exotic dancer. But how can I show him? How can I prove my worth not only as a good, loving girlfriend but as a versatile sexual being with so much to give? My mind slithers over possibilities in my sexually creative head, my voice is soft, sweet, yet full of need and unbridled interest,

Babe, I’m into cock-bondage. Don’t worry, its not the crazy kind, just the fun kind and I promise you’ll like it.

Without waiting for a response, I reach behind his head to my jewelry rack that hangs on the wall of my currently being-re-decorated room and take my 35 inch strand of antique natural pearls. His waiting cock is standing forth like a monument to the night and to all his little sex driven mind can conceive. Delicately and with small, soft hands, I wrap the pearls around his cock, starting at the bottom of his thick shaft and twining up, completely encasing his hard flesh in pearls. When at last the pearls were in place, I took both ends and pulled gently, flicking the head of his cock with my tongue.

His reaction was palpable as his hand covered his mouth, his breath coming harsh and thick, fast. His cock too was reacting, pulsing and swelling against the pearls. With each surge of his flesh, the pearls ripples into it exciting him even further. As I sucked and licked away at his sensitive head, he became like stone inside my mouth, harder and thicker than he’s ever been before, the head showing red and swollen in the blue tinted light of the dappled moonlight.

His breath was coming harsh and his comments rippled forth like curses to God as his body tensed and he writhed on the bed,

Oh baby, this is the best sensation I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I swear. Oh my god. It just feels so awesome.

I smiled gently with satisfaction as my mouth luxuriated over his cock, his body, his mouth and his pulsing cock giving me feedback that only increased my need to make him come hard and finalize his grand sensation.

Without warning I pulled the end of the pearl strand up and over his cock and away, the pearls rubbing him as the streamed upwards, massaging his already maniacally aroused cock. He moaned and his body tensed the nth degree, his words only grunts and a long streaming moan issuing from his mouth followed by a laugh of sheer pleasure and amazement.

His moan was even deeper as I slid his whole length into my mouth, letting the tip of him touch the back of my throat before sucking upwards. After a few moments and his fingertips sliding at the base of his engorged cock, his hips bucked before he came with a force that nearly drowned me, his come hitting the inside of my throat and causing me to hold back gagging as he came stronger than he ever has.

Random Fetish Image: Armpit Licking

Er, yes, armpit licking:

Oh, and a reminder to the recent influx of new readers: it’s my habitual practice to deliberately feature a photo from time to time that is likely to appeal only to folks with rare or unusual fetishes. Hell, sometimes (like today) I put up a photo simply because I imagine, without any evidence, that there must be a fetishist somewhere who will think it’s hot. If you think such a photo is “gross” or “sick” — as some of you apparently do, judging by the comments I’ve been catching in moderation lately — please keep those opinions to yourself, or express them elsewhere. ErosBlog (meaning me) does not welcome sex-negative or judgmental commentary. You don’t like something you see here? Fine, whatever rubs your crank. But we (meaning me, again) are not interested in hearing about your revulsion.

We don’t strictly enforce Thumper’s rule; you don’t have to say something nice, or keep your mouth shut. But if you don’t have anything nice to say, you must at least find a nice way to say whatcha got.

Hoisted By Hogan

Google tells me this image is so 2005, but hey, it’s new to me. That’s Hulk Hogan (for the three of you who grew up in a yurt) and his wife Lizzie Grubman, and yes, her pussy parts on open display for the cameras:

Sex Bias In Blogging

A question that comes up repeatedly in the sex blog world is “Why aren’t there more male-written sex blogs?” Start clicking links, take a poll — it quickly becomes clear that there are a lot more women than men writing about sex in the blogging world. Focus on blogs that (unlike this one) are mostly introspective and personal, and the imbalance comes into even sharper focus.

Susie Bright, having recently returned from a Blogher conference of mostly female bloggers, touches on this question in the course of a long and interesting essay on gender bias in the blog world. Unfortunately, when she tries to answer the question, she hits us male sex bloggers up aside the head with a big chunk of her own gender bias, and I’m just not willing to sit here and take it quietly. She writes:

Why don’t straight men include sexuality in their blog writing– aside from the resolutely anonymous few that sex-blog professionally?

Because outside of the “adult” world, a straight man writing about his sexual life– his erotic self-reflection– is considered feminizing. It would make him a pussy to his peers.

I fall squarely within her category of the “resolutely anonymous few that sex-blog professionally”, and I’m calling bullshit. Read my archives, I could give a shit less what “my peers” (the male ones, or the subset of them who could use “pussy” as an insult) think of me. They aren’t right in the head, and they don’t seem to like women very much. Indeed, in Susie’s own interview with me, I spoke of my belief that a lot of guys are “broken” when it comes to their views of women. Why would I let the views of broken people affect my behavior?

Ironically enough, Susie gets a lot closer to the truth just two paragraphs down the page of her essay. Here, and she’s talking about women even though she says “folks”, she says:

Some folks at our panel talked about the risk of hurting loved ones if we blog about our sexual lives. They were concerned with boundaries, respect, and discretion– timeless issues for authors in any era.

Those concerns are about ETHICS.

Damn straight they are, and the ethical concern goes a lot further toward explaining why I don’t write much about my own sex life than the fanciful notion that I’m worried some misogynist male shithead is going to call me a pussy. Why aren’t these ethical concerns (expressed by the women at Susie’s conference) supposed to be available to me, a man?

This is really just an extension of the basic “Don’t kiss and tell” rule. Yes, there’s a gender bias built into that rule, or at least reflected by it, because it is (or, at least, was taught to me as) a rule for the protection of women. The women I know don’t seem to have been taught it, or taught that it should apply to their discussions of men. That’s because — I’m speculating — men aren’t seen as being so vulnerable to reputational damage when their sexuality becomes a matter of public discussion.

So there it is, male sex blogggers. You’re damned if you tell (because it’s just not safe for women to have the details of their sexual lives broadcast, and a real man doesn’t put a woman he loves, or even “just” fucks, at risk) and damned if you don’t (because, Susie says, you’re just a coward who remains silent because you fear “feminizing” censure from the lowest of other men). I know not what course others may take, but as for me, I’ll continue doing what I’ve always done — speaking when it seems right to me, and be damned what anybody else thinks.

Giving Him A Lick

Just to mix things up a bit, here’s a bit of vintage gay porn from BJ, who sells this sort of thing on Ebay when he can get away with it, and distributes free samples on his blog:

BJ wonders about splinters, and I’m convinced there’s a stupid pun in here somewhere involving the word “wood”, but I’m not going to stretch for it.

Naked Hippies In Love

Judging by the hair and the beads and the vintage tones of the color photography, this happy scene from Usenet might date all the way back to the original Summer Of Love. No matter, it’s clearly a summer of love:

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Good Morning, Sunshine
• Suddenly Watermelons
• Naked Hippie On A White Horse
• Naked Hippie Women
• Wild Naked Dinner Party

Lick It And Touch The Tip

I’ve heard of tourists trying to torment the famously stone-faced guards at Buckingham Palace. This guy in the funny Germanic helmet is no Beefeater, but he’s obviously got a similar job description. OK, little minx, feel free to try and make his Heinrich pop up, but you don’t have to be so downright mean about it:

Autocunnilingus?

I’ve posted autofellatio pictures here before, but I think this may be the first autocunnilingus photo I’ve ever seen. Apologies for the poor quality, but we work with what we’ve got. The young lady certainly has!

Sex Blog Roundup (Exclusive ErosBlog Edition)

I put together a Sex Blog Roundup for Fleshbot a week ago, but for some reason they didn’t publish it. So I thought I’d put it here for you to enjoy. Without further ado, here it is.

Feels Like Home from My Not So Secret Self:

“I tugged at my honey’s shorts and within moments he was naked, his cock–already hard from the warmth of my breasts rubbing and pressing against his flesh–was standing tall in the warm glow of the bedroom. I hesitated for a moment before stripping my own panties off and joining him in nakedness.”

Purple Silk Boxers from Urban Gypsy:

“He strides over to where I stand; lets his tongue bathe my lips and then nuzzles his face into my neck, licking that most sensitive area that seems hot wired directly to my clit, eliciting soft moans. A greater whimper escapes my lips as he grabs my hair at the roots, pushing me to my knees so that my mouth aligned with his cock which so insistently pushes the purple silk towards me. ‘Suck,’ he says simply.”

Head Hanging Over the Edge of the Bed from Always Aroused Girl:

“In the distant past, I had the pleasure of sharing the bed of a young man who (among many other things) loved to come all over my breasts. I think if I were a man, even for a few days, ‘come all over lover’s breasts’ would have to be on my list of Manly Things to Do.”

Fantasome from Emerging On The Other Side:

“Tonight, my husband made sweet passionate love to me. As did my lover and muse. Simultaneously. Except my husband was unaware of his presence, since a threesome involving two men and myself is not his idea of bliss. But it’s definitely one of mine.”

Storming The Fortress from Late Starter:

“When we got to the castle around midday it was fairly deserted, with probably no more than half a dozen visitors…. The room was dimly lit by daylight coming through a very small slit window…. We’d started to kiss passionately and to loosen one another’s clothing when we heard the couple from the floor above coming down the stone staircase. We hastily made ourselves as respectable as possible in the few seconds available, but we were both red-faced and breathing heavily when the couple reached the open doorway.”

Candy Cane For Des from Desireous:

“I sucked him and licked him and sucked his tasty freshly shaven balls. I had him moaning and squirming beneath me. I love that! Nothing like making a man moan, it?s one of my favorite things! He had his hands in my hair holding tight. I sucked him good. I know I had him pretty close to orgasm a few times but he held back and kind of distracted me, sneaky guy!”

Tranny Surprise from Bad Sex:

“I was at the Cat Club in San Francisco, I think it was Bondage-a-go-go that night, I was in latex, my first outfit. I think it was second or third time out in rubber. I was having an OK time, but not really getting any attention….”

Midwest As Seductress from Kiss and Blog:

“A month into living together, we acknowledged our sex life was stale as Noah’s doggie bagels and pledged to liven things up. One night, about an hour after we’d gone to sleep, I woke up with a plan to spark the embers. Rolling toward Nathan, I began lightly nibbling his ear. He swatted me away.”

You Gotta Lick A Lot Of Camel Toads….

“Please let me know what camel toads are and how I might be able to tell if he is smoking, taking, or licking them.”

Your first clue, lady, would be the happy satisfied smile on his face….

Picnic Blowjob In Golden Gate Park

Sometimes I miss San Francisco, even though the three years I lived there I was too young and callow and lonely and broke and chickenshit to take advantage of even five percent of its true charms. Despite being the most populous place I’ve ever resided, some of my better memories of SF are of its natural spaces; one vivid memory is the Halloween night I spent wandering in the moonlight on Ocean Beach, enjoying the surf air but lacking the social mojo to crash any of the bonfire parties scattered up and down the beach. I always did enjoy Golden Gate Park when my hikes took me over that way, and I often mourned the lack of frolicking naked people that my father reported were prevalent when he frequented the place some thirty years before me.

The great wheel turns, or I didn’t keep my eyes open wide enough, or the times they are a-changin’…again. Violet Blue knows how to run a picnic:

Then we meandered home, where we made afternoon cocktails and put all the produce and fresh bread into a picnic basket and headed off to Golden Gate Park. We spread out a packing blanket I stole a few SRL shows ago and sat in the trees, on grass and little tiny white flowers, along a secluded stretch of winding duck pond. For a few minutes a couple and a photographer wandered through out little corner of bliss, taking their engagement photos. We sipped Campari and soda with lemon, and nibbled on everything in and out of the picnic basket. At one point, I even took dessert in the form of a quick and nasty blowjob while Hornboy writhed on the blanket — a very daring thing for me, to do this in public. A first. Such a huge turn-on, too; but how can a girl resist seeing a nice hard knob in a pair of pants and not want to take a sample? A girl just can’t.

The End Of The R Story

After being away for a while, I finally got it through my stupid head that I won’t have something better to say here until I finish the R story. It wasn’t easy to do, and it isn’t very pretty, but here it is, behind the “more” link. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, the third part of the story includes links to the first two parts.
R and I spent Christmas on a skiing trip that was awesome and horrible. I liked learning how to ski, and even made it down the hill once or twice without falling on my ass. The mountains were beautiful, and while we were in public R was his attentive, charming self. He told me to pack for a sexy cold trip…..I thought he meant the cold would be outside. But it was inside too. He told me we’d be together…..except that he never slept with me. In his house, in all the hotels we stayed in, R never stayed with me in bed all night. At first, at his house, I thought it was to give me some privacy, but since he constantly walked into the room I used without knocking whenever he wanted, I don’t think it was for that. At the hotels, we stayed in the same room, but always in seperate beds. But I’m getting ahead of things already.

That first night, at R’s house, was very different from our fun at Thanksgiving. He was formal, like he was trying to decide if he should hire me for a job or something. R welcomed me warmly, but it didn’t seem very sincere, more like it was what he had been taught to do and say to a woman that would be staying with him. He didn’t seem to like it if I touched him first, I found out quickly. After dinner, which was focused mostly on eating and small talk about family and high school friends, he said that he was tired from working so much and that the next night he’d give me a proper welcome. I offered to rub his back, the way I used to, but he said no, and said I should probably sleep too as jetlag would catch up with me and make learning to ski in the mountains harder. He walked me to the room where I’d put my bags, which I thought was his bedroom, barely kissed me, said goodnight and walked down the hall to his room.

I wasn’t expecting a romantic candle light bath, or rose petals all over the bed, but after the hot sex we had at Thanksgiving, this was a real shock. He wasn’t even going to sleep with me! One of the things I hate about being single is not having a nice-smelling man to snuggle with. Here I was with a guy that used to make my knees weak, I thought I did the same to him, and he barely touched me all evening! I went to bed thinking What the fuck?!

The first time we had sex was the second day of the ski trip, up until then it was one lame-ass excuse after another. R was skiing with me down one of the bigger beginner runs, and when I fell for the jillionth time, he started laughing at me. He was close enough that I pulled him over too, and he fell on top of me. We were both laughing, then the next thing I knew he was kissing me, hard. A small clump of pine trees was close by, and he rolled us over into it, laughing and kissing me the whole time. There wasn’t much to hide behind, but there weren’t many other skiers. I undid my entire front down to the sexy thermal top I bought specially for the trip, but he stayed mostly dressed, just undoing enough to release his very hard, very hot cock and plow it into me. I don’t know and don’t care if anybody saw us, I was so glad to finally be getting fucked that I didn’t even think about it. Fast and furious and hot and cold…..I didn’t come, but it was still damn good.

That night at dinner R started to explain what he meant when he said he didn’t know if he could show me how he is now. The way he said it, I thought he was into rough sex, and since that’s not something I’ve done a lot of except fantasize about, I told him that I thought we could work up to some things. After I said that he relaxed, and was very sweet and more like the highschool boy I’d fallen for.

Remember, I didn’t tell R that I contribute to a sex blog. So as far as he knew, I was just some normal chick that was willing to try some kinky new things. Some were fun and really got me going, like these vibrating nipple clamps. Most of the time it seemed like he didn’t care if I would like something, and didn’t bother to even think about that. R didn’t seem to understand the need for lube with some toys, or going slow, so it ended up sometimes that his stuff hurt, it wasn’t sexy, and when we did have sex, it was like, just get it over with so I can go to sleep.

On our last night, after a very fun day just hanging out together, he decided to do a twat test. I needed to keep whatever he put in my pussy totally inside it, or he’d punish me however he wanted. The idea was he’d keep trying smaller things, but the first thing he put in me was so small and smooth that even clenching my tightest, it peeked out. I tried to tell R that it would be a good start for a teenage virgin, but not someone like me, but I got spanked for my “sauciness.” We both ended up frustrated and mad because his game wasn’t working. He said he was going to tie me up, and when I asked about a safe word, he said that he’d be able to tell if he was pushing me too hard and that stuff like that was for chickens. My questions made him madder, and he finally yelled that no slave of his was going to get away with talking to him like that.

That pushed me over the edge, because I never said I’d be his slave, and he never asked. I went to the room I was staying in, and R came after me, telling me that I was his for the entire trip and I’d better start behaving properly if I didn’t want to get seriously punished for my insolence. I didn’t want to do it, but I was so mad and so frustrated by his impossible demands and not having much sex that I started crying. R had been so sweet and affectionate whenever we were out in public anywhere, but when it was just the two of us alone all that vanished. I tried to tell R that if he had shown me just a little of that sweetness in his house, I’d probably be licking his shoes that very minute, but with his Jeckyll-Hyde thing going I didn’t know what to think, and I didn’t trust him to tie me up. He said he did care for me, and he knew that I just needed some good discipline to see that, and that after he gave it, I’d know I could trust him. I told him I didn’t work that way, I had to trust before ropes or cuffs came anywhere near me, and if he wasn’t okay with that then this was it. R didn’t seem to get anything I was saying, he didn’t seem to even understand the difference I saw in him going from public to private, so, since I was almost all packed anyway I grabbed my stuff and left. I told him not to bother calling me or returning my other stuff, and walked out.

He didn’t call or anything, until April. He had a business trip, he said, that required that the men have female companions with them. He told me I’d be perfect for the trip, that I’d love it, that he’d let me set the rules this time, if only I’d agree to go on the trip with him. He was so sweet and so persuasive that I almost said yes……but then I remembered how it was over the holidays, and how confused and awful I felt for alot of the time. I also started wondering exactly what this “business trip” was, and wondering if he had some kind of kinky thing worked out. So I said no, told him not to call me anymore, and hung up.

But his call made me start thinking about all we had done…..Thanksgiving, which was totally hot and fun…..Christmas and New Years’, which had some fun stuff but mostly was wierd and scary to me. Did I do something wrong to make it all so bad? Maybe I am more of a prude than I think…….but I don’t really think so. And now I don’t know if I’ll find someone else to try with….if I can trust a guy again. I don’t like being like that.

Fully Protected

You know that annoying javascript some people put on their web pages so that you can’t easily right-click on a photo or link, or select any of the text? I guess it buys protection from dim-witted content thieves who don’t know how to “view source”, but only at the expense of annoying anyone who wants to right click on a link to open it in a new window. And that’s not the only downside to this stupid code.

Three times this week I’ve tried to link to somebody’s sex blog, only to have that idiot javascript kick in when I went to select a key sentence for quoting. And each time, I reacted by clicking away. You don’t want me to copy a sentence from your blog? Fine, I won’t. No problem. No link, either.

The last one I found popped up an error message reading “This blog is FULLY protected!” when I tried to select a sentence. And it is fully protected, too. Protected, in this case, from being put on the ErosBlog sex blog list, and further protected from appearing in the Thursday edition of the Sex Blog Roundup on Fleshbot.

Animal Passion

This just in from the Russian tabloids (as translated by Russia Makes It Funny):

“Life is too short, one has to try everything!” Svetlana decided.

Vera brought in a cat. The cat named as Timka was living in the house for quite a long time. Vera took her clothes off, put the light out and played an adult movie on the video recorder. She lied down, took a bottle of valerian and poured some on her most intimate body part. When the cat smelled valerian, he started licking it away, putting Vera in the state of ecstasy.

Unfortunately, the tale ends badly, with a visit to the emergency room. (Please bear in mind that Russian tabloids are even more lurid and fantastic than American ones. But if more Russian women had Svetlana’s approach, perhaps the Russian bride importatio business would be even more brisk than it already is?)

Fluids and Frolicking and Fun, Oh My!

Goodness. I didn’t realize that my post of yesterday would prompt such a response. Several comments deserve a more prominent response than just a follow-up comment … So, strap yourselves in, and have barf bags at the ready if you get squicked by talk of fluids and fucking. (Or, don’t peek behind the “more” link.)The first commenter posted:

All you say makes sense, but I don’t know that you’d want me to put my bleeding cock in you.. would you?

No, but that comparison confuses the issues. Menstruation is a normal, natural part of a woman’s body functioning — a bleeding penis isn’t. And yes, CID, there can be a difference in the “feel” of sex, menstrual fluid being thicker, if one plunges in without allowing time for natural lubrication to occur (or even if you do allow for that, just ’cause that other stuff is present too). I was somewhat tongue-in-cheek pointing out an advantage of having sex during menses.

Another individual commented, in part:

HOWEVER, I do have a problem with a lady, who after I go down on her refuses to kiss me… :boo hiss:

Boo hiss indeed! I’ve had a similar experience from the other side, so to speak. That is to say, a gentleman reacted with shock and displeasure when, after I’d admitted him to my “sacred sanctum” and he withdrew prior to orgasm, I went down on him. To me, the taste of commingled male and female fluids is scrumptious … but he apparently didn’t agree.

I’m not out to belittle anyone who has tried some of these things and not liked them. What I was challenging is the idea (which seemed to be implicit in Wanton Male’s blog entry, and I apologize to him if I read more into it than was intended) that there’s something inherently wrong/bad/harmful/unpleasant in menstrual sex — or, for that matter, enjoying other normal bodily fluids that happen as part of the sexual process.

If you’ve tried it, and not liked it, well, good on ya for trying. We all gotta follow our bliss, and thank the goddesses, there are lots of ways to do that. But if you’re among those who absolutely reject something relatively benign like this …. well, consider yourselves challenged by me to reconsider. “Try it — you just might like it!” :)

Fruit Sex

This comes from a mostly-bogus news story about the alleged outrage generated by frolicking fruits on a candy wrapper. You can go to Boing Boing if you need the journalistic details all straight, but you can enjoy the image right here:

When all is said and done, though, I have to admit that the Fleshbot candy is better.

Penis Worship During National Penis Month

National Penis Month continues. But I figure, hey, if we’re worshiping dick anyway, let’s show it being done right:

The artist is Loic Dubigeon.

The Nymph In My Net: Making Time To Play

Several of you have emailed with the comment that the blogging here is of a lower quality lately, and I’d cheerfully have to agree. One possible explanation is that frolicking with The Nymph has blunted the keenest part of whatever horny edge I once brought to the sex blogging project. However, for the most part, I blame lack of time. The aforesaid frolicking is certainly a factor, but I’m also engaged in a significant reorganization of what I do to pay my bills. That’s eating a lot of my remaining free time in the short run, but in the long run it should (fingers crossed) free up more time for frolicking, blogging, and general whatnot, while simultaneously (crossing toes now) improving the cash flow picture.

So do please hang in there. I may spend another month or three stuck in this “one desultory link per day” blog mode, but I hope to resume normal service by high summertime.

Is Chocolate Syrup A Moisturizer?

This girl seems to think so.

But be careful clicking around over there. The link entitled “Buttpainting” on that site is emphatically not misleading. If the term “colonic artistry” doesn’t scare you off, the phrase “winking buttholes shooting colorful girl-goo” probably will. And if you clicked anyway after those fair warnings, don’t come whining to me.

Sweet Fantasy

Kinkspeak wrote in to alert me to her brand new erotica blog, Exit To Erotica. Here’s a sample from a bit called “Sweet Honey“:

right now i am having fantasies of bathing in warm honey. i imagine first placing my foot into it, feeling the warmth oozing in between each toe and then stepping in and slowly immersing bit by bit the rest of my body until only my face is uncovered. i lean back and let my hair also become saturated with honey.

honey. filled with antibiotics that not only soothe your sore throat but also smooth over your skin. honey, yellow and clear, melted gold.

Mmmm, honey. “Will ma’am be wanting her licking boy later?”

A Large Cold Mouthful

Here’s what happens when hot-blooded young ladies in northern climates are forced to amuse themselves, with nothing but snow to work with:

Springtime Frolic

OK, in case any of you failed to notice, this is the second day in a row that’s longer than the one before it. The winter solstice is behind us, the sun has been freed from its cave, and we now have this to look forward to:

More Naked Twister

The site where I found this picture of nude young lovelies playing twister has already gone to the great happy bandwidth hunting ground in the sky. However, by a strange twist of internet serendipity, I’ve discovered the cheerleader porn gallery the pictures came from. And by gosh if it doesn’t turn out that naked twister is hard work! Here the poor girls are shown all tuckered out and resting:

Resting up, as it happens, before getting into the hot tub.

Thanks to LightSpeed Sorority for the photos and galleries.

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The Valley Of Gustatory And Olfactory Delights

There has been talk here before about the excellent tastes and smells of a woman. Although some women worry (needlessly) about how they taste and smell, thankfully others know better:

And for that matter, I’m not pleased with men who do not enjoy my taste. I know what I taste like, and I taste good, clean and crisp and sexy. I am unimpressed by a man who does not enjoy my taste. And really there is no faking it. If you are only willing to touch my pussy with the tip of your tongue I notice and am immediately turned off. There is more to my pussy than my clit for your tongue and my vagina for your cock. And actually while we’re at it the whole nether region is an erogenous zone feel free to explore. I suspect it’s no different for men, but I know that it is not enough for one to have technique; I want to think you are enjoying licking my pussy too. Nothing turns me on more than when a man sticks two or three fingers in my drenched pussy and then sucks the juices off.

Thus spake the Vanilla Sex Goddess.

Way Hot!

Here’s the beginning of an absolutely sexy prose poem to be found at Black As My Soul:

I wouldn’t want to tie up your legs, necessarily…

Because I love having your thighs on my shoulders while I’m licking and sucking and using my fingers.

Maybe it would be more of a challenge while you tried to keep me away

Tried to keep me from putting my hands on your hips and taking you with my cock…

You calling me a fucker?

Maybe I’ll hold your legs together over one shoulder

Pushing your knees back toward you

Exposing your wet little pussy!

Your body betrays you?

Still holding your legs together.

You’re not getting away.

See this hard cock?

It could be yours.

Maybe I’ll just tease the outside of your wet pussy lips.

Rub your clit slowly with the head of my dick.

That’s not what you want?

Should push my hardness into you?

Just a little?

Spreading you now with my cock.

Stopping to savor the heat inside you…

Yummy!

THIS Is The Culture War?

Why yes, I guess it is.

Debra Hyde just posted this essay in which she makes the point that the Culture War is back on, and sex blogs are in it whether we like it or not.

And I realized that she’s right. In fact, Debra reminded me that I had said as much the other day in email, to a gentleman who asked for a link. I had to refuse him, regretfully, because his site was all broken. Clicking any of his links took me to some sort of nasty ActiveX or JavaScript pop-up box with an “I Agree” button. There was some sort of waiver or disclaimer in eight parts, all about promising to be an adult and that I live somewhere where it’s legal to look at dirty pictures.

I didn’t click, and I didn’t link. I just won’t go there. You may have noticed that ErosBlog rarely links to a warning page, even a simple html one. If I can’t link to the content, I usually won’t link at all. But I hadn’t thought much about why. Partly it’s because warning pages are, from a technical standpoint, cruft – a useless excrescence that interferes with the natural linkage from one web resource to another.

But mostly, it’s political. When my correspondent wrote back he explained that he only wanted to protect surfers and webmasters. He mentioned that some surfers live where they could go to jail for surfing to a dirty picture. He mentioned that some people work for companies where a dirty picture on their screens can get them fired. He spoke of laws against letting minors see dirty pictures. He mentioned avoiding the possibility of his own arrest when traveling to repressive foreign lands. And last but not least, he mentioned Ashcroft and his rumored new team of crusading anti-porn prosecutors. Finally, he inquired what my proposal was for dealing with all these risks, if I didn’t like his solution.

This is an excerpt from my lengthy rant response:

It’s getting to the point where even the Saudi princes can’t forbid all access to the internet, because it’s economically essential. By keeping adult material in locked ghettos at the fringes of the web, we make their repression easier — not something I wish to encourage or cooperate with.
…
Most of the folks who share your concerns use a simple entry page, with appropriate warnings, and links deeper into their sites. This demonstrates your good faith to any prosecutor, while allowing hardcases like me to link directly to the “meat” of your site and ignore the warning page.
…
If that doesn’t seem secure enough for you, I don’t know what I can say. Each of us decides which battles are worth fighting. I’ve decided this one is worth fighting, and I take what opportunities I can to encourage other people to fight it with me. You might have good reasons why you can’t take what I see as a very small risk, and that’s your business. But when your web resources won’t load in my browser, I’m not going to link to ’em.
…
Meanwhile, I’ll carrying on linking to the folks whose sites are visible, and who are (given the nature of the sites I link to) helping me fight the culture war I’m trying to help fight.

Thanks, Debra, for reminding me of having written that.

Nymphs of the Forest

One of the best things that comes with the job of being Bacchus is the close association with a fine assortment of woodland nymphs. What’s not to like about lovely women whose favorite pastime is frolicking nude in the forest, and who are (by virtue of their assigned role in the extremely traditional mythos) properly observant of the prerogatives of the god of wine and wild partying?

Ok, daydream over, everybody get back on your heads.

2012 Update: I now have tools for sourcing images that weren’t available back in 2003. It turns out this one comes from Met Art, so I’ve linked the old 320-pixel thumb to a larger view. And here are some more of these nymphs:

A Pussy Kiss

Some people will doubtless think this is sick, repulsive, or offensive. Fortunately, it is the firm editorial policy of this sex blog not to care about that. Besides, I think it’s cute and harmless:

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More Nestle Bon Bons Will Do The Trick

I am home sick today. Head cold, yucky but not too miserable. Yesterday, on my way home early to take a nap, I stopped to grab some liquids and a pint of ice cream for comfort food. Wound up with a little tub of Nestle Bon Bons, which are rich little nuggets of vanilla ice cream dipped in a chocolate shell. The ice cream is heavily whipped with air so it’s soft as silk even at freezer temperature, and the chocolate shell is thin, fragile, and apt to break or melt in your fingers during the brief journey from tub to mouth. Both ice cream and chocolate are very yummy.

Gentlemen, I’m telling you, these things are sex pills!

So far that’s an untested theory. But I’m convinced. Get a tub of these things and sit down on a couch next to any woman. If she has even the slightest touch of warm inclination toward you, or feels she should, and you play your cards right, you should have her eating out of your hand (literally) inside of three minutes.

Better yet, since these things are fragile and melty and too good to let go to waste, there’s going to be some licking of (at least) fingers within another two minutes.

Lick her sticky fingers. Get her to lick yours. Tease her with a bon bon, put it between your lips instead of into her mouth. Crack the chocolate shell visibly with a light-but-firm press of your lips so that the ice cream starts to melt along with the chocolate shell. If she kisses you at this time, give the bon bon back. If not, feed her another one, but slowly….

Dammit, if you have to be a peacock, be a good one!

As soon as this head cold clears up I’m going to have to find me a lady friend with whom to experiment. The Nestle Bon Bon theory of seduction must be tested.

Man Does Not Come By Kisses Alone

I once knew a woman who seemingly didn’t know that hands could contribute to this most worthwhile of projects. I was too young and dumb to even consider trying something so sensible as actual sexual communication, so she carried on, when we carried on, with her soft mouth ministrations that felt great but were far too gentle to actually ever get the job done this way. Eventually she traded me in for a married guy she met on the internet. But that’s a story for another day.

Anyway, Shell knows better:

I suck on the head and the first few inches, using my hand on the rest of the shaft (which is already well lubricated with saliva). I take his balls in my other hand, lightly flicking my nails through the hair, cupping them reverently, perhaps squeezing or tugging gently if I know he likes it. I vary the amount of suction, keep my tongue moving. If he wants to set the pace, then I comply, letting him use his hands to move my head at the rate he chooses. I love the feeling of having my mouth fucked. But if he prefers to let me remain in charge, then I am happy to continue worshipping him with my lips and tongue, continue squeezing and caressing his shaft with one hand, continue using the other hand to tease and tickle whatever parts of his body I can reach. I like to run it over the top of his mscular thigh, feel the place where it meets his hips, travel up across his torso to feel his chest, shoulders, neck. Then his face.

I touch his lips. My own lips are stretched wetly around him, moving up and down, sucking his shaft in and out, my tongue acting as a textured carpet. If he starts kissing and licking my fingertips, I go crazy with lust. If he sucks on my fingers, I usually come. Sometimes he’s so into the moment that he doesn’t pay any attention to my fingertips, and that’s okay too. I’ll just drag them down his body again and plan on getting my turn later.

When I sense he’s close to climax, I remove my hand and let him go deeper into my mouth. I grab his ass with both hands and suck hard, suck wet, suck until I feel him jerk and pulse on my tongue.

I give him as much time as he needs to finish, then I slowly pull off and kiss his penis adoringly. I sink into a pleasantly exhausted slump against his thigh, sometimes kissing and nuzzling the object of my worship, the tool that gives me so much pleasure, my lover’s penis.

Somewhere, right now, some lucky young man is benefiting in a very personal way from the communications miracle that is the internet.