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The Sex Blog Of Record
Saturday, October 12th, 2024 -- by Bacchus
Joey W. Hill’s paranormal erotic romance In The Company Of Witches has a light moment that may explain some of the gender discrepancy among fans of the movie Titanic:
She pressed a smile against his muscular biceps, caressed his forearm. The man was built like a brick house. No wonder Ruby had been intoxicated by him. For some reason, she wasn’t pleased with that thought, so she pushed it away to notice he was looking at her TV table. He dropped his head to the pillow behind her, puffed a breath on her neck that sent a shiver down her spine. Almost… playful.
“Titanic,” he said. “Is there any female who doesn’t like that movie?”
She tilted her head to look at him. She had a desire to caress his jaw, but she quelled it. “Only the ones without estrogen. Is there any male who doesn’t hate it? And why is that, by the way?”
“It’s a chick flick on steroids.” He made a pained expression. “A male watches a ninety-minute romance with a woman because he anticipates sex as payment for his attention. Ninety minutes is a fair exchange. A three-hour movie, with a tragic ending that leaves the woman sobbing, needing consolation, not sexual pleasure? That’s above and beyond the call of duty. He has to be flat-on-his-ass in love with her to put up with that shit.”
She elbowed him in the gut, wasn’t at all surprised when he caught it before it could make contact. Wrapping his arms closer around her, he nuzzled her neck…
No need to “not all men” us in the comments; what we have here is a gross generalization for comic effect. There are plenty of men who aren’t so transactional. But it’s hardly uncommon for a man to watch a movie he’s not interested in with a woman he absolutely is interested in, because the viewing offers an opportunity to enjoy closeness and companionship with her. Although the aphrodisiacal effects of closeness and companionship are known, it does not necessarily follow that men can’t value these for their own sake, or in combination with some hoped-for hanky-panky.
Bonus link: Titanic The Way It Should Have Been
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Thursday, December 3rd, 2020 -- by Bacchus
I don’t see how old Bertie here is actually much of a catch, being such a dismissive male chauvinist and all. Nonetheless our flapperish heroine seems to have captured him fair and square, by the old trick of getting inside his defenses and upsetting his preconceived notions:
Artwork and poem are from an August 1932 issue of Love Story Magazine, which was a nicely-designed romance pulp. The poem reads:
The Dance
By Bert Cooksley
Girls were pretty things, I said,
But only made for fairest weather;
Like orchids, they were quickly fled–
And then, my dear, we danced together.
Love, I said, was sweet and fair.
But all too closely like a feather.
Helpless in the rainy air–
And then, my sweet, we danced together.
Marriage was, I said, a yoke,
A subtle and all-binding tether
Making liberty a joke–
And then, my love, we danced together!
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Tuesday, June 5th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
Here’s the slap:
And here’s the kiss:
Followed inevitably by, y’know, all the make-up sex.
From a shoot at Kink.com’s newest site, TSPussyHunters.com.
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Wednesday, March 7th, 2012 -- by Bacchus
I wasn’t surprised to see James Deen get profiled in The Observer, but I was a little surprised to hear that he’s turning into a bit of a heart-throb / feminine lust object, a “sensitive boy with closed-door swagger — the flip side of a good girl with a dirty mind”:
At 5′ 8″ and 26-years-old, Mr. Deen is slight of build, fresh of face, and looks like that cute boy from your high school Spanish class. A little bro-y, maybe. Sophomoric, definitely. But he has a surprisingly witty Gmail handle and a sly sense of humor. He could be your boyfriend, if your boyfriend knew his way around a ball gag and just when to pull your hair.
Obviously I don’t look at him “that way”, but I’ve definitely noticed that he’s more than just another over-muscled hunk on a porn set. Here he’s demonstrating just when and how to pinch a lady’s nipples:
I liked this quote about rough sex:
“I’ve been into rough sex pretty much my whole sexual life and so I’m not, like, bad at it,” Mr. Deen told me by phone last month, on his 26th birthday. “I don’t know how to say it without being a hideous prick, but I’m pretty good at having rough sex. It got to the point where a lot of girls who aren’t into that type of sex were afraid to work with me because they thought I was going to slap them in the face or something. But I only do that if the girl is into it. There’s no reason to choke somebody if they don’t like getting choked. Then you’re basically being an asshole.”
Image is from here.
Thursday, April 7th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Now this is mommy blogging I can get behind:
How Great Sex Made Me A Good Mom
That’s the name of the blog, not a post title. My favorite moment in a fast pass down the first page: asking the teenage son, as surreptitiously as possible (not very), how to find the cable channel with the good fucking music:
One night when we tired as usual but quite desperate to be each other’s arms I just really needed romance with the sex. I couldn’t take one more minute of quiet humping in the dark! I knew that I had seen some station that played many music videos in a row with Marmar. I tried to find it on demand with no luck. All the ones I saw were one video at a time. So I had to actually get up and put a robe on to ask him, just oh so casually, like I wanted to educate myself about R&B video on a random tuesday night at 10:55PM, “Honey what was that station that had the videos?”
“music choice”
“No not that one. The one with many playing a row.”
“BET Midnight Love….Where did you hide the Oreos?” Him yelling.
“Don’t wake up the boys. Behind the soup. …THANKS…” me half yelling down the stairs.
And that’s how we started having sex to the light and sounds of Midnight Love on BET on demand.
Saturday, December 18th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
This is one of those posts Mistress Matisse makes from time to time that makes me regret her long-ago decision — liberating though it must be — not to host blog comments. I might have contented myself with a “Hell yah!” if she had ’em, but since she doesn’t, I’ll just post a few choice drive-by excerpts over here, and keep right on moving:
The idea that a woman can change how her male partner feels about things annoys me.
…
I strongly disagree with the idea that a woman should try to redesign the inside of a man’s head. If you want a romance with someone who thinks just like you, date other women. Men are different from us. Really. Their view of the world is neither better or worse than ours, it just — is.
…
If you tell a man what you wish to have done, he’ll either do it, or else he won’t. But if it’s something both of you can see, then it’s easier to discuss. Telling a man you want him to feel differently is hard to measure, and doing so rarely yields a satisfactory result for anyone, in my experience.
You preach it, sister!
(I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I have definitely been in the position of confusedly asking a woman “What is it that you want from me?” and getting back the very specific answer “I want you to feel/not feel [description of a mental state]”. Let me tell you, there are no extra points for telling her that her impossible-to-fulfill emotional demands have now filled you with existential despair. “Woman, it’s how I feel, it’s not something I can change like I change my freakin’ pants.” Nope, no points for that answer either.)
Friday, November 19th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Don’t pay any mind to the dude in the background. Look at our lovers. He’s caressing her face, they’re gazing deep into each other’s eyes, she’s a little breathless, her mouth open anticipating a kiss…
It could be straight off the cover of your average semi-pornographic bodice-ripper romance. A proposal of marriage within twenty pages, a duel by the end of the chapter, eventually a wedding after necessary complications, happily ever after in due course.
Except, I cheated. I cropped creatively, and rotated the frame a little bit. Because what’s actually going on here is, she’s strapped down to a bondage table with her legs apart and he (it would seem) is taking ruthless advantage of her helpless situation:
Not that she minds. Indeed, I’d say they’re pretty into each other.
Her girlfriend / partner in crime is getting the same treatment in the background (on the floor!) from his buddy. The story is, the girls are druggies who got caught by a pair of rogue cops. Supposedly it’s all very exploitative and the ladies are being kidnapped and turned into “whores” for the bad evil corrupt cops, but everybody seems to having too much fun to remember the nominal humiliation/degradation agenda.
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