A Street Full Of French Talent
Friday, August 25th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
From Kinky Delight, but I believe this must be artwork by Georges Pichard:
It’s gotta be Friday night, or maybe the fleet is in?
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The Sex Blog Of Record
Sex Worker Tattoo
Sunday, May 7th, 2017 -- by Bacchus
This illustration is said to depict one of the “tattoos of prostitutes” from The Female Offender by Lombroso (1893):
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Sex Worker To Wife: Are You Fucking Him Enough?
Tuesday, January 20th, 2015 -- by Bacchus
A long time ago in the context of a discussion about porn, I advanced a theory about the historical antipathy between wives and sex workers. This theory seemed so uncontroversial to me that I didn’t think it needed expanding, explaining, or defending; rather, it was the rock-solid background against which I set my argument about porn. Here’s what I said in 2003:
Some women object to porn the way wives object to the idea of prostitutes, and for the same reason: it means they have to use actual sex, rather than their erstwhile monopoly over the possibility of access to sexual stimulus, in order to maintain and enjoy the sexual attention of their men. Women who want to have that attention without having the actual sex for which most men will cheerfully trade it are teases, in all the negative and none of the positive senses of the word.
Encoded in that paragraph is my proposition that nobody is entitled to demand the benefits of sexual exclusivity if they aren’t willing to satisfy the sexual desires of their partner. Since 2003 I’ve learned that this isn’t a gendered proposition, but I’ve also learned that the pathology of demanding an unsatisfying exclusivity is even more common than I had thought. Incompatible levels of sexual desire are common, and there are many non-monogamy (or monogamish) relationship models couples can use to cope with them. But it is both wicked and unjust for a partner to insist upon sexual exclusivity without also taking responsibility for actually having enough sex to make the relationship mutually satisfying. And this sort of wickedness and injustice? It’s dirt-common.
I was reminded of all of this by an essay in Vice by sex worker April Adams. She writes:
Dear wife,
I don’t know you, but I know that it’s possible that your husband will cheat on you with a sex worker. I say that because I am one, and I am not short on clients.
But not your husband, you say, not him! Other husbands, sure, but your relationship, your sex life, is different. You had a threesome with your college roommate ten years ago. You get a sitter and head to Vegas every August. You have that special thing with Law and Order marathons. You have a great marriage!
Let me ask you: When was the last time you had sex three times in a week? When was the last time he complained about that? Don’t you think that maybe it’s possible that he’s instead taken the problem out of your hands, which is to say into mine?
After a lengthy articulation of the reasons such a state of affairs might not actually be all that maritally-threatening, Adams concludes:
I’m not saying it’s your job to keep him happy. I am saying maybe you don’t want to sleep with him that often. You’re busy, or stressed out, or he doesn’t do it for you anymore. I get it; he almost certainly doesn’t do it for me.
That’s the point. I am the secret ingredient in a lot of healthy marriages, because when he’s seeing me, both of you are getting the amount of sex you want. As long as you leave his cellphone alone, you might make it to your 50th anniversary. You’re welcome.
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20th Century Sex Toys: Vibrators and Hookers
Sunday, January 15th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
I have in my hand a curious book called The Stimulators: Swinging Set’s Newest Rage, by Roger Blake, Ph.D. Published in 1968 by Century Books (CB 052), it has semi-abstract cover art medallions (groovy!) and purports to reveal “how sex gadgets of every type are now being peddled openly…and how they are used!”
Psuedo-interviews and “case studies” with anonymized interviewees about taboo sexual topics are a sexual literary genre in their own right, and it’s often imprudent to mistake them for non-fiction. But even a suspected fiction can shed light on historical views and attitudes. In that spirit, I offer this brief anecdote from one “Jim”, described as “an interviewee who volunteered to give information for my research” and as “a fifty-one year old sales who has patronized the better class of professional prostitutes in cities of the South, Southwest, and East Coast for more than 30 years.” So the first anecdote in this account would date from approximately 1938, with the second one presumably later:
The first time I saw one of these [vibrator massagers] I was about twenty-one or so. In Dallas, when I went down to Ma’s the first time and took a client to get some girls. They were Mexicans. And you talk about some beautiful Mexican girls, they were outstanding! Eighteen, nineteen years old and great! We had three of them up in the room, and this one pulls off her blouse and digs out this thing like a barber uses. She went to town on her breasts. She went nuts! Man, they were jumping up and down. The other girls were jumping up and down. They got in a fight to get that vibrator, and the little gal on the left, soon as she got it, she pushed it right in that black forest and it was bzzzzing it up great!
The senoritas were putting on a show. Maybe they were getting their rocks off, maybe not. I think about every other whore I ever had, had a vibrator of some kind. The New York whores are the experts, the real pros with a vibro. They pull the things out of the drawer to the night table like it was as natural as screwing. They know you want a little something extra.
I’ll tell you about Dina Rae, the one I went back to three times, she was so great. Stacked like a brick outhouse with 38Cs for boobs. She straddled me about the chest so her black forest parted to show the crater of that hot volcano. The boobs were dragging my belly. So she puts the vibro to work on my legs and comes up to my rod and it goes right up … up, up, up.
Dina Rae had this gimmick that she was famous for. She lifts up a little bit and puts the vibrator to work along the bottom side of the rod, all up and down the shaft real easy. There’s a rhythm to it finally. She goes down to the base, then starts up slow. I just about come and she pulls it away and starts at the base again. After about three times, I know I’m gonna go off the next one. This final time, she starts up the shaft, then goes back to the base and keeps it bzz-zzing there while she runs her finger all the way up to that big vein on the bottom.
When it shoots off, it’s like a geyser or a volcano erupting. She keeps her mouth about an inch or two away, and she catches about two of the shots and swallows them. The rest of it goes flying all over the boobs and everyplace. So she sits up then and acts sexy rubbing it around her boobs and then working the vibrator all around her boobs until her great big fat nipples are sticking out like two hard nuts.
If you’re still in the mood, she works it down to her twat to get her jollies. She does it sometimes even if you’re not in the mood, all of which leads me to believe that Dina Rae is sincere and does get her jollies that way, and it’s no act.
The Mexican gals were all show. They acted it out, and they’d break up laughing sometimes. It was sexy for the customers, but I think it was a big game for them. Ever since that time way back when, I’ve been hooked on the things. Every pro I’m with, I ask if she’s got a vibro, and I can tell you I think I could count the ones on the fingers of one hand who said they didn’t.
I’m so taken by the groovy cover art medallions, I’ve got to include a higher-res view of them, as found on the back cover of the book (click for larger):
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Venn Diagram: Who Is Paid To Touch Your Junk?
Wednesday, December 29th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
From Chart Porn, where you can also find a lively math nerd discussion about whether or not this is a properly constructed Venn Diagram. That’s actually quite hilarious, but I urge you — should you feel the need to participate — to do it there. All the people trying to score “someone is wrong on the internet!” points in that discussion would, if they came here, set off my comment moderation reflexes like I’d discovered flaming cockroaches under my woodpile. {stomp stomp stomp!}
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Julie Meadows On Being A Whore
Thursday, August 19th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
In a longer piece, Julie Meadows writes:
A woman has natural power in this world. She is a potent source of sexuality and life. It is a gift, but as with all gifts, it is also a curse because men and women will always hate her for knowing her own power.
That is why she is called a whore. She knows it, she uses it, and it scares people who want it or wish they had it, even if her choices have nothing to do with those people. Sex work can be safe and healthy, or it can be illegal and dangerous. We should be protecting all members of our society, including the beautiful and powerful women. A sex worker – properly trained for sex work – can be an educator and source of liberation for others. A friend of mine told me that as a young man, he picked the female with the most sexual experience and had her teach him everything. He had successful relationships after that because he acquired skill through mindfulness that many men never learn because they don’t pay attention. But more than that, a compassionate sex worker can provide emotional and mental soothing for clients, or teach couples things they can do together through instruction. I spent many hours as an escort just talking to clients, listening to their problems and assuring them that the stresses of their daily life are common and that they shouldn’t be too hard on themselves. With an education in therapy and counseling, coupled with the confidence that comes with providing a legal service, I could have thrived as someone capable of physical and mental and emotional therapy. They are all important.
What’s wrong with being a whore? The people who strip her humanity away from her and tape her mouth closed. Other than that, nothing.
Emphasis, on those first three sentences, added by me.
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