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Artfully Posed Relief

Thursday, April 13th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

This photo from Pissing Blog is so artfully posed, you can’t really tell if she’s really relieving herself beside a quiet country road or if that’s just another waving blade of grass:

squatting to pee beside the road

Given the coy photography, I suspect this may be from a British porn magazine of the 1970s, but I freely admit that’s a wild guess.

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Don’t Forget To Peecycle

Monday, January 23rd, 2017 -- by Bacchus

When I woke up this morning, my subconscious mind was already wrangling with the poetical details of a series of limericks. It seems grandiose to call this short sequence of lowbrow verses a cycle, but that’s truly what it is: three of the limericks (so far) focus on the comic tale of a certain prominent man in a fancy hotel room in Moscow, alone but for Putin’s cameras and some well-hydrated women “of a low level of social responsibility.”

woman pissing into a chamberpot

For a variety of reasons, I’m uncertain whether I should actually post the resulting pee-cycle. I am therefore imposing upon myself (and upon my own questionable judgment) a very low challenge barrier. Here it is: if I get three more pledges (at any level) in support of the ErosBlog Patreon campaign before Tuesday, January 31, 2017, I’ll post the limericks on that day. If I don’t? Then I won’t.

Are there least three people, each having a dollar or more to spare, who would like to see a few verses of lowbrow liquid lampoonery?

If not, that’s a good reason to keep this pissy doggerel to myself.

Meanwhile, here is a tangentially related limerick that spun out of my fingertips while I was writing down the pee ones (which are much funnier, I promise.) This one got rejected from the cycle due to humorlessness and a technical lack of subject-matter relevance:

An old billionaire dickhead named Don
Likes to grab women’s cunts — and hang on.
“They don’t stop me, the bitches!
Because I have riches…”
Says the rapist who thinks he’s Don Juan.

If you want more and better, you know what to do

February 1 update: The people have (not) spoken. The Pee Cycle will not be published. However, I can refuse my existing patrons nothing. If you are a Patreon supporter of ErosBlog who wants to see these limericks, please email me (bacchus@erosblog.com) and ask. I’ll fix you right up!

February 2018 update: Still not a peep from the people. Wow, I seriously misunderestimated the revulsion of the populace at the mere prospect of this fine literachure. I may go to my grave with this little .txt file still on my hard drives. Let it be a problem for my literary executor. Um… On second thought, maybe I will publish it in celebration if the Russkis ever release the video. We’ll see.

2021 update: Since the old mope can’t stop denial-confessing to this kink, I should remind everybody that it’s never too late to support me on Patreon and then email me for your copy of the Pee Cycle.

 

Showers Of Gold

Wednesday, January 11th, 2017 -- by Bacchus

Danae golden showers

Today seems like a fine day to examine the rich artistic tradition surrounding the conception of Perseus. Are your umbrellas ready? Good!

It’s a long story, but the short version is: Danaë was locked in a basement by her father (for reasons) but got impregnated anyhow by Zeus, who appeared to her as a shower of gold coins. (Apparently the almighty Zeus had somehow internalized a “chicks dig gold, right?” philosophy of seduction.) The resulting scene has proved to be very popular with artists from every age.

The painting at the top of the post is by Léon François Comerre. This next one is by Alexander Sigov, and the one after that is by Gustav Klimt. At the bottom of the post is artwork from a Greek vase circa 450 BC that’s now in the Louvre.

golden shower for Danae

golden shower for Danae

golden shower greek

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Underneath Her

Thursday, April 5th, 2012 -- by Bacchus

There’s an awful lot of power dynamic going on in this ancient vintage photo/postcard. It’s an unusual posture for simple cunnilingus, that’s all I’m gonna say:

woman kneeling on a table with her pussy over a man\'s face

From Usenet.

 

Try Not To Pee On Your Rope Harness

Thursday, April 10th, 2008 -- by Bacchus

Wearing a rope harness in public has its perils, as Red explains:

It’s funny, I would have thought that the rope harness peaking out from under my black halter-top dress would have made me blush deeply if seen in public, but for some reason it wasn’t phasing me. No, instead my attention was focused on the rope ends dangling down the inside of my legs, cresting just below the short hem of my dress. Every time they grazed across my skin, I was sure my jolt and my smile were obvious to anyone watching.

The coffee shop closed, so we left. Monk finished his coffee with a flourish — how he did it so damned quickly was beyond me. I continued to nurse mine as we drove down the road. This leg of the car ride was particularly difficult – not only was I steadying a hot cup of coffee, I was trying to stabilize my wiggles and movements as the car went over bumps, doing my best to stop the rope drawn tight between my legs from making me yelp *too* much. I’m pretty sure I only partially succeeded.

The space was quite busy when we arrived, but we found a spot quickly nonetheless. I watched intently as he prepared for the scene ahead, taking it in, letting my imagination get ahead of itself as I did so. Finally, he looked at me with eyes that spoke their intent very clearly. We were about to begin.

“Better make a pit stop,” he told me, “Cause once we start…”

Visions of my crotch rope danced before my eyes. It’s like he could tell what flew through my mind, because he looked at me with terribly amused eyes and said “I guess you’d better be careful.”

I no doubt flushed red, as my embarrassment burned in my cheeks before channeling down my spine, making me ache deep within. As I fumbled with the rope, trying desperately (and successfully) not to pee on it, I blushed deeper. My sex throbbed deeply against the line of hemp drawn across its core, calling for more struggles and more friction. More more more…

I doubt that the blushing had subsided before I was back before him, but I didn’t care. His eyes smiled as he drew the rope through his hands.

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