ErosBlog: The Sex Blog Of Record? Make It So!

After ChatGPT falsely claimed that Erosblog is “often referred to as the sex blog of record” (which has never yet happened even once in 22 years) a mutual on Mastodon told me I should take it and run with it: “highly recommend you just start calling it that to be honest.”

And that was… a superb idea! The old tagline/subtitle for ErosBlog was “Sex Blogging, Gratuitous Nudity, Kinky Sex, Sundry Sensuality”, and that hasn’t changed since 2006. Now: updated!

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Sex Blog History: The Early Days Of Sex Blogging

[Publishing note: I wrote this article in 2017 for the onsite blog of an erotic stories site called NovelTrove, which stopped updating in 2022 and went offline a few months ago. This version is as submitted to NovelTrove, with subsequent editorial changes not reflected. An archive of the as-published article is here. The instant republication was prompted by yesterday’s thread on Mastodon that evolved out of this ErosBlog comment.]

Let’s talk about the early days of sex blogs. It’s not easy, though, because what exactly is a sex blog?

As the proprietor of ErosBlog in the early days, I was there — I lived that history. I think I was the first person to call my blog a sex blog. Having that experience, though, doesn’t make the history of sex blogging seem any less complicated.

Everybody knows a “sex blog” is a blog about sex. But what do you mean by “blog”? There are many definitions, but here’s the one I was using in 2002, when I started ErosBlog. A blog to me was a personal website where people would post regularly, their posts would be dated, their newest posts would be at the top of the page, and they would also have a link list or “blogroll” pointing to other blogs. Were you doing all that while talking about sex? Congratulations, you had a sex blog!

It’s different now that social networking sites are so big, but back then, if the site wasn’t personal in some way, it wasn’t a blog to me. Blogs (“web logs”) evolved from the online journaling/diarist tradition that had grown up at sites like LiveJournal, and they were distinct from news sites or “web magazines” because those sites didn’t speak with a human voice. If you didn’t have a human-sounding authorial voice, you didn’t have a blog.

Similarly, if you didn’t have a list of outbound links, you weren’t a blog because you weren’t part of an ongoing conversation. In the early days, bloggers talked to each other in the comments. Blogging was a true social network back then, in a way that it no longer usually is.

Finally, your posts had to be dated. Lots of people had “web pages” where they would edit the HTML by hand from time to time to make updates, but if you couldn’t see at a glance when a thing was posted and how that thing related to other posts, you didn’t have a blog.

What did early sex bloggers post about on their blogs? Well, they posted about sex, of course! But it was different back then, because most sex blogs were almost porn-free, at least in a visual sense. Dirty pictures were quite rare on sex blogs, because in the mainstream blogging world, there were still a lot of taboos. “Internet porn” was a big thing, but many people reading blogs would not dream of viewing a “porn site”, and many more were reading blogs at work, which is why “NSFW” (not safe for work) became the obligatory adult warning tag among bloggers generally. It’s difficult to describe just how delicately a sex blog had to treat erotic images back then. It was incredibly easy to be “too” graphic, with the resulting loss of links and traffic from the blogging community at large.

Still, there was plenty for the early sex blogs to talk about. Many bloggers talked frankly about their own sex life and kinks. Posting erotic stories was also common. People would post their own stories, or they would post short excerpts from another blogger’s dirty stories and then link readers to the author’s web page to see the full story. There were occasional reviews of porn videos, and there was a lot of commentary on the sex writing that existed in the mainstream print press and on the mainstream websites of the day. In those days, print magazines were publishing such terrible sex articles that making fun of them quickly became an overused trope for sex bloggers. (Mocking the sex tips in Cosmo is probably the most famous example of this; some bloggers did it as a regular monthly feature.)

In the early days, though, it’s probably fair to say that we had sex blogs in fact before the idea of sex blogs ever existed. People were sex blogging but not thinking of it as sex blogging; and then for awhile they were thinking of it as “sex blogging” but not calling their blogs “sex blogs.”

I believe I’m the first person to ever start a site and call it a “sex blog” from day one. This was ErosBlog’s header in early October of 2002:

The day I started sex blogging, I only knew of one other blog I considered a sex blog, and that was Susannah Breslin’s The Reverse Cowgirl’s Blog. She didn’t exactly call it a sex blog, but it totally was one:

Breslin concurs; she wrote in 2014 that she “would consider” Reverse Cowgirl to have been a sex blog.

Breslin volunteers Daze Reader as her nominee for the first sex blog, and I have to agree that it was a very early one. Daze got his start almost two years before Breslin and me; in September of 2002 Daze said his site was “nearing its second anniversary”. The oldest archive I can find (October 2000) confirms that. Even in 2000, Daze Reader was a sex blog by any reasonable measure, linking mostly to sex stories in the mainstream press, but with editorial comment and the blog subheading “All about sex, technology, culture, news, art, gossip, politics, ideas, drugs, rock & roll…but mostly sex.”

Another early “sex blog” that didn’t use the name was Debrah Hyde’s Pursed Lips, which had its origins in an even earlier web diary and by August of 2000 was using “Sexuality News” as a header over content that’s indisputably sexblog-like:

One of my biggest influences in my earliest sex-blogging days was the website Tiny Nibbles run by Violet Blue, dating back to 2001 at least. Violet wrote about sex toys and sex education and sex in general, all with an open and unabashed sex-positive authorial tone that was extremely rare at the time. Her site, and especially her editorial voice, impressed me hugely. But it never crossed my mind that she was doing a blog, because her articles were undated until the early months of 2003, when she began including a “Tiny Log” on her pages, and putting dates on her articles:

Beginning in 2003, sex blogs started to take off as a category and as a community. They completely exploded in number, sophistication, and popularity. Over the next five years, sex blogs got better connected into mutually-supporting networks, while becoming more honest, more raw, more explicit, more pornographic, and more commercial. Sex toy reviews moved from an occasional oddity to a supporting industry, and explicit imagery (whether amateur, artistic, or commercial) became much more common. It would be a daunting task to even briefly summarize the sex blog world during those years. For an article that serves as a good place to start, I recommend Dangerous Lilly’s A Brief History Of Sex Blogging.

2008 marked a sort of “beginning of the end” for the sex blogging community, although the actual “end” never came, and probably won’t. The US economic crisis in 2008 had a big negative impact on the affiliate sales that supported so many sex bloggers, and the rise of social media sites (most of them hostile to adult content) sucked a lot of the traffic, readership, and community out of the blogging world in general. What’s more, the explosive rise in people using mobile devices (and spending all their time within specific apps instead of browsing the web) began to sharply diminish the amount of general web traffic to blogs of all kinds.

It was roughly then, too, that Google started filtering adult sites and deprecating them so they stopped appearing in the most prominent search results. That meant people doing general searches for adult topics mostly stopped landing on sex blogs at all. That was a big negative change for sex bloggers, who were used to appearing quite high in search results for sexual keyword searches of all kinds.

Despite such challenges, we sex bloggers are resilient. We won’t be going away any time soon. If the last fifteen years of sex blogging were a wild roller-coaster ride (and they were) I can’t wait to see the next fifteen!

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Number One, Again

It matters a whole lot less than it used to, because who searches for “sex blog” in 2024? But a long time ago, being at the top of Google for that phrase brought in enough traffic to fund my rather-less-modest-than-it-has-subsequently-become lifestyle. Affiliate money was easy money, search traffic was king, and top search results for popular phrases were a guarantee of traffic and income.

It’s been more than fifteen years since any of those things were true. Moreover, for most of the last two decades, Google search has prioritized lifestyle columnists and sexual wellness/health sites (which is to say, people selling sex toys in a soft-pitch deniable way) in sex blog searches over any of the sex blogs like mine (or Girl On The Net’s, for example) that publish actual content intended to arouse. You know, porn.

That’s why I don’t much care any more if ErosBlog ranks well in a pornocalypse search engine. It doesn’t matter financially the way it did in, say, 2003. Nor is it any longer much of a competitive feel-good prize, now that sex blogging has outlasted its cultural moment. The only sex bloggers left are stubborn diehards like me. Why we still do it is a complex question with diverse complex answers, but “for bragging rights with each other about our Google search placement” isn’t even close to being on the list.

All of which is to say that that I haven’t seen a sight like this in a very long time:

I know what changed, too. A 22-year-old site is guaranteed to have a lot of technical debt, especially when operated by a tech-numbskull like myself. I freely confess dragging my feet for way too long about upgrading to secure browsing. For a long time, certificates were expensive and fixing big volumes of legacy content was a complex problem. Then, eventually, certificates became free (although still dangerously centralized) and WordPress plugins solved most of the legacy-content problems (old posts prone to breakage). But the biggest problem with technical debt is never the technology, it’s always the stubborn old butthead in charge of the site who balks at the necessary investment to fix it. Especially when the investment is mostly his own time and energy. It’s me. I’m the butthead.

Google has, of course, been downgrading insecure sites in the search results for years. See above for why I didn’t care very much. Over time, browser software, including Google’s, has also gotten more aggressive about warning surfers to stay away from insecure sites, with frighteners like scary colors, harsh symbols, and stern warnings.

A few days ago, I finally got my https:// shit together here on ErosBlog. Sure enough, traffic is up about 40% (albeit from a low base). Moreover, as the above screenshot reflects, I’ve got my #1 search position back for “sex blog”. Should have done it years ago, of course. But at least it’s done now. Onward!

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More Sex Blog History

Following up on my post about sex blog history (and my semi-dubious claim to have invented the “sex blogging” notion, even though I’ve always acknowledged that others were doing it long before me, under different names) here’s what I said last week:

Susannah Breslin’s blog The Reverse Cowgirl’s Blog (which you might or might not consider a sex blog, though it had a lot of sex-blog-like content, and rocked the subtitle “in which a writer attempts to justify the enormity of her porn collection” ) got started a month plus five days before ErosBlog did. That’s why I have always acknowledged that blog as a possible contender for “the first sex blog” even though nobody called it a sex blog before I first coined the phrase.

Here’s what Susannah has to say about that:

As I pointed out on Twitter this morning, I was preceded in sex blogging by Daze Reader, whose first blog post dates back to May 2002. I didn’t launch The Reverse Cowgirl until August 2002. I’ve always seen Daze as the first sex blogger. I don’t know that I would’ve ever created my blog if it weren’t for Daze’s pioneering sex blogging.

In regards to Lilly’s question, would I consider The Reverse Cowgirl blog a sex blog? Yes. At the time, I was a freelance journalist and my primary beat was sex. I created the RCB to share my crazy life working the sex and porn beat, from Porn Valley to the Playboy Mansion, and I was intoxicated by the opportunity that sex blogging afforded me: an uncensored venue where I could write and express whatever I wanted — without censorship.

I am abashed that Daze did not come up in the “early sex blog” conversation before now; he was one of my inspirations for sure. I don’t remember him calling his blog a “sex blog” out loud anymore than Susannah did, but by any reasonable measure, it surely was. During that summer of 2002 when I was surfing blogs on breaks at my desk at my unrewarding office job — and yes, there was a logging Sonic Firewall device in that workplace, but I had the password and thus the ability to confirm that nobody else was logging in check the logs — Daze was one of my never-miss daily stops.

Another proto-sexblog mentioned on twitter as dating back to August of 1999 (!) is Debra Hyde’s Pursed Lips. I was linking to Debra from the beginning; her focus, as I remember it, was somewhat specialized around erotic literature, both writing it and collecting it. (Sadly, nothing of her site from before 2004 or so seems to have survived in the Internet Archives.) The most recent archived version of her “About” page says:

I’m a long-time blogger and sometimes podcaster. Pursed Lips is among the oldest blogs to bravely explore sex in our culture, a baby I birthed in 1999 when bloggers numbered around 200 people!

It’s astonishing how ephemeral these sites turn out to be. The Internet Archive helps a lot, but their coverage in the early years was spotty at best. And you can’t search it, so if you don’t already have a link, even stuff in the Archive is as good as gone in most cases.

Update, Debra Hyde on Twitter: “I saw PL as a sexblog, tho not sure the term yet existed.”

A History Of Sex Blogs

Speaking as the person who claims (not with much energy or certainty) to have invented the notion of the “sex blog” and as the first person to refer to my efforts as “sex blogging”, I must say Dangerous Lilly has done a very nice job of pulling together a “view from 10,000 feet” overview of sex blog history in her article A Brief History Of Sex Blogging. I inspected each urge to quibble that arose within myself as I read the piece and in each case the only possible fair assessment was “if she’d spent the space to sort out that detail, then it wouldn’t have been a brief history any more.” I say, good work.

That said, I was a quibbler and a pettifogger long before I was a sex blogger, and some old habits die way hard. So here are a couple of points I would make about the older bits of sex blog history in her piece. (Everything in this post is “as far as I know” — it’s always possible somebody more knowledgeable or with a better memory will pull up proof of my internet wrongness, in which case, better history, awesome!)

I’ll stop there — that’s quite enough quibbling for any mortal man. Kudos to Lilly for tackling a difficult bit of 21st-century cultural history with both brevity and aplomb!

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Ten Candles

Erosblog’s first post went live on October 3, 2002: Is This Sex Blog Thing On? That was ten years ago, which makes us like 70 in dog years (or internet years, take your pick). Surprisingly enough, there have been 3,652 posts since then; as close to a post a day as anybody could want. Plus, 16,772 non-spam comments. Thanks to everybody for reading and participating!

I have to shout out for the three other sex bloggers who were at it before I was and who are still at it; there may be others, but these are the ones I know about and remember, who were there when I started, who I found early on, who have kept at it, and who are still here. Violet, BJ, Daze — it’s been a hell of a decade. There’ve been dozens who came later, who told us (and the world) they knew more about how to do it, who did it harder or louder, or who (maybe) did it better. But we are still here, and most of those others are not. Survival is the ultimate measure of success, no?

I also have to acknowledge Indie Nudes — an ancient and venerable “list of links” that has survived and thrived like some ancient dinosaur turtle. Lists of carefully chosen links were the way the web was organized, for a few years a long long time ago, before blogs and even before decent search engines (*cough* AltaVista *cough*). So, when Erosblog was pretty new, Indie Nudes put me on their list. They’ve kept me there ever since, and they send surprising traffic; nobody but Google sends me more. I don’t know who runs it or why they keep doing it, but thanks!

There have been lots of changes since ErosBlog was a mere puppy. The architecture has changed a bunch of times; when I started, I used a desktop blogging client for Windows called simply “BLOG”. Eventually I updated to Graymatter, but I was late to the party and its evolution was slowing down right at a time when challenges (especially in the area of comment spam) were speeding up. WordPress was the next obvious step, and by now (how many templates later?) it’s such an old friend as a content management system that I use it for everything, even things that look nothing like blogs. If all a man has is a hammer, everything looks like a nail…

Just as many changes in my life. When I started, I was single and lonely, and I had a professional job, with a tie and a (very small) office that put me one tiny step away from cubicle hell (just outside my door). I quit that job (for the second time) just days after ErosBlog went live, when the boss who was keeping the place afloat took a political appointment. I’ve been self-employed (at various things) ever since, and I couldn’t even tell you whether I still own a tie; if I do, it’s in a box in deep storage somewhere. Like most people who aren’t part of the metastasizing financial-services-and-megacorps conglomerate behemoth that’s eating the world, I’m poorer than I was ten years ago and a lot poorer than I was when I was lucky to be climbing the inflating side of the last bubble. But I’m living somewhere they can’t take away from me, I’ve got a good woman who loves me slumbering in our bed as I type this, I’ve got a big dog (who also loves me) slumbering protectively just inside my front door, and there’s pease porridge in my crockpot that’s been simmering fragrantly all night with a chopped onion and a hint of cumin. So life is excellent by any reasonable measure.

Changes in the sex blogging world? Wow. Blogging was a thing, had been for a couple-few years, when ErosBlog got going. But sex blogging as a category? I wasn’t first to do it, not by a long shot; but I think I may have been the first person to put “Sex Blogs” in my sidebar as a blogging category. Eventually it got real popular and it seemed like everybody was doing it. Even the SEO spam robots were doing it for awhile; they’d scrape actual blog posts, mash them up and change a few words out with a thesaurus program, and then bung them back up on the web somewhere as bait for GoogleBot. Now, of course, we’re on the downside of the slope; blogs are old and boring, more “stable place to put my essays” than “exciting community where I make my connections”. The web itself is changing in the era of Facebook and Twitter and the smartphone and the ecosystem of apps; people are looking at it in different ways, on smaller screens, from more places, in shorter bursts, if somebody tweets a link perhaps. Links in sidebars are as dead as webrings as a way of moving traffic around, to the point where a lot of things-that-look-like-blogs don’t link out to anybody at all and sidebars are going away as people do mobile-friendly redesigns. People still stare at screens for amusement, but almost everything about the process (when they do it, how they do it, how they decide what to stare at, how they find what to stare at) has changed.

Where in all this do sex blogs fit it, in the waning month of 2012? Well, people still like reading about sex and viewing dirty pictures, and they all have these miraculous and awesome (I think so anyway; that’s how you can tell I’m old) little always-connected internet devices in their pockets now. Even if “blogs” finish going away and “surfing the web” has become hopelessly quaint, there’s got to be some way to keep on doing what we do (find sexy stuff, pull it together, make a few wise-ass remarks about it, entertain the folk). Our challenge as sex bloggers (or whatever we become when blogging is as dead as carriage racing) is the same as it always was: to do it well enough to be valued, to earn and maintain the attention of our readers in an overstimulated world where attention is the scarcest currency.

In 2007 I asked “Will there be a Ten Candles post on October 3, 2012?” In my secret heart, I was pretty damned sure the answer was “yes”. I’m delighted to have been right. But what about the future? Will ErosBlog still be here in 2017? I’m less confident than I was in 2007; I grow older and move more slowly, while the world speeds up and accelerates into the future. But I’m persistent, and I’m stubborn. Unless I stop being entertained by porn (which seems unlikely) I can’t imagine not having bits of it that need pointed at and talked about. So, just as I did in 2007, I’ll say “I truly do hope so!”

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10 Years Of Sex Blogging: Best Of ErosBlog 2006

Next Wednesday (October 3) will mark the first day of the eleventh year of operations here at ErosBlog. So it looks like this will the last of the “10 Years of Sex Blogging” retrospectives. That’s OK — covering the first five years has a decent symmetry to it. Without further ado, here’s 2006:

• My micro-rant on why lap dances in strip clubs are “DO NOT WANT” territory for me, plus somebody else’s tips for getting a good one: How To Get A Killer Lapdance
• I found possibly the best happy-exhibitionist photo I’ve ever seen: Half-Naked And Happy To Be There
• Of all the things I’ve ever written on ErosBlog, this essay on joy and BDSM acceptance is perhaps the post I’m most proud of: Two Smiles
• Remember that shower gel commercial with the tagline “How dirty girls get clean?” Yeah, me neither; or I wouldn’t, if I hadn’t managed to associate it in my mind with this memorable photo: Girl Washing
• I can’t recall laughing harder or longer over a web thing (unless maybe it was the immortal Dogs in Elk waaay back in the last century) than I did over this cybersex transcript that didn’t quite go the way the dude expected it to: And Who Shall Be Master?
• I don’t often lose myself in consumerist fantasies, but I confess I did the first time I saw this product for sale. It’s still for sale, but sadly, I still don’t have any: Leather Sheets
• I’ve softened my stance on the virtues of color blindness over the years (having been exposed to possibly-better arguments) but I haven’t come close to abandoning it. Here’s one of the places it got me griped at, especially in the comments: Nude Women, Skin Color, Huh?
• This post and its comments was one of the places I’ve tried to expound on the foolishness and impossibility of imposing our personal interpretations of art (here, pulpy sex comics) onto other people. Of course it got me snarled at, as it generally does: Whipped With A Hat On
• What’s going on when women dress themselves to be looked at, and then appear to resent the looks they get? I had a theory: On Looking At Women
• I think every sex blogger has taken a go at mocking the contents of sex spam. Here’s one of mine: Sex Spam Subject Lines
• This I still believe: “If you can’t see a person without having a racial classification for them pop into your head, you’re part of the problem.” Not Ignorant, Adamant
• Even a cartoon ’70s metrosexual (before they called them that) understood that a fist in her hair can make the blowjob better: Hair Pulling Blowjob
• In which I stand up for the proposition that not all men are dicks: No Gentlemen, No Sex Pictures
• I had forgotten until just now this back-and-forth with Susie Bright about the reasons for the gender imbalance in the sex blogging world: Sex Bias In Blogging
• I still want to know what happened to this sex doll: Sex Doll Accident
• I still don’t think Violet is wrong about a word of this: Public Submission Ritual
• Another effort on my part to demonstrate that the sexy elements in art are (and ought to be) available to the viewer no matter how reprehensible the artist, his motives, or his historical context: Male Soldiers Fucking
• My irritation with a certain class of creepy comments, it overfloweth: Flashing From A Window
• My opinion on fake boobs, followed by an opinion that arguably matters quite a bit more: Big Fake Boobs
• I still laugh every time I see this: Bill Versus The Penguin
• The topic of what it does (did) to our society to have porn go from “hard to get” to “available on all screens” is fascinating to me, and has been for a long time: Internet Porn For The Greater Good
• Title speaks for itself: Dirty Owl-Fucker!
• “Who wants to find herself covered with Winnie-the-Pooh BandAids after sex?” There’s always somebody: But Gardens Do Differ

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Bacchus On Twitter

I scoffed. I balked. I dug in my heels like a crochety old person. Kids these days, and their newfangled fads. It will never amount to anything, I said. Waste of my time. If I wanted to send funny little short messages, I’d have texting enabled on my cell phone. Blah blah blah.

Meanwhile, the world kept right on changing without me.

Slow I may be, but I am finally figuring it out: people I find interesting are having conversations I want to know about, and they’re doing it on Twitter.

So, here goes. My Twitter name is: ErosBlogBacchus.

Better late than never, eh?

Ning To Adult Social Networks: Bugger Off

From time to time, I have posted to remind people that there’s no substitute for having your own server (not literally your own, but one that you pay the hosting bill for) before building anything of substance on the internet. It’s always struck me as insane to build stuff on “free” servers run by somebody else who hopes to monetize the traffic you generate, especially if you’re involved with sexual content that they might decide is icky. Either they will like you too much, and try to steal your traffic in various ways, or they like you too little, and kick you out (oh, and keep your traffic). You might hope to be Goldilocks, but hey, good luck with that.

Thus, posts like my:

Why Blogging Services Suck
Indecent Blog Hosting
Blogging Services Still Suck

I don’t remember posting again when Blogspot (now Blogger, a Google company) killed about half the sex blogs out there over a period of months, deleting many of them and putting many more behind ugly, traffic-killing warning pages. It struck me as inevitable, and I saw a lot of sex bloggers take my advice when it happened and get their own host and domain. Over the years, I’ve seen a lot more just vanish when their “free” hosting environment became toxic. This might even be the second most common reason (after “stopped posting”) why sex blogs die. So, I notice it.

But it’s important to remember, this is a broader principle of life and business on the internet. It’s not just blogs.

Remember way back in 2004, when an outfit called Ning announced (with great fanfare) that they were going to host social networks like MySpace, for free, so you could set up your own? I even (briefly and somewhat later) toyed with the idea of setting up a social network on Ning for my ErosBlog community of fans, but I wasn’t confident Ning would prove adult-friendly over the long haul.

Well, other people dove into it. And as of this week, all the folks who started social networks around porn, sexual nudity, or “fetishes” learned they were about to be royally screwed, with all their years of community-building effort flushed right down Ning’s toilet:

On Monday night we announced that we will no longer support adult networks on Ning beginning January 1st, 2009.

As it relates to the Ning Platform, adult networks include, but aren’t limited to pornography and depictions of sexual acts. To clarify the point, networks that contain or are focused on the following topics would clearly fall into the adult category include:
* Pornography or images of sexual acts
* Nudity intended to sexually arouse the viewer
* Graphic photos or videos
* Fetishes

To be fair, the original announcement cites practical and (to me) believable financial reasons why the adult networks are being evicted from Ning’s network. Some of these networks — and this is no surprise to me, given some of the toxic porn marketing I encounter daily — seem not to have been good tenants.

To their credit, Ning appears to have embraced open standards that may (I am far from certain) make it possible for these banished Ning communities to export at least their user lists, and possibly more of the network content. Maybe some of them will be able to reconstitute themselves on their own servers — is there free open-source social-networking software out there these days?

Anyway, I’m not saying the Ning people are being bad or evil. But the effect of their sweeping anti-adult business decision has been to wipe out an enormous amount of effort that users invested in their platform. It’s a pattern that repeats itself whenever people use “free hosting” of whatever kind. If you build your shit on somebody else’s land, they can, and they eventually will, either tear it down or tell you to haul it away (if you’re lucky). Nor does “upgrading” necessarily save you; Ning offers paid upgrades from its free advertising-supported service, but it appears that, upgraded or not, if you like teh fetishes or teh pornz, you’re still banished.

It’s not just blogging services that suck.

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Penis Versus Clitoris: Google Has Decided

Since I wrote last week about Google’s Secret Sexual No-Fly List, Tony Comstock has been doing some more digging into the perversities of Google’s various admitted and secret adult keyword filters. He’s been blogging up a storm about it, with posts like this:

• Reverse Engineering Google Suggest “No Fly” List (Who is Google Protecting?)
• Talking to your children about sex. (How do you parse love?)
• Google Update (Is it safe?)
• Penis = Safe; Clitoris = Not Safe. (Why can’t the Googlebot find a single SafeSearch return for [clitoris]?)

In that last one, Tony shared the startling discovery that Google’s SafeSearch algorithm returns thirty three million “safe” results for [penis], but not a single one for [clitoris]. On top of all the other problems, Google’s filters are sexist! Tony expounded on this in his subsequent post, Dragged into Google’s Sex Ghetto, Kicking and Screaming:

As mentioned previously, I had been working on a post tentatively entitled “Does the Googlebot have Asperger’s Syndrome?” but I realize now that the analogy is too generous. People with Asperger’s see and understand the world differently from “normal” people, but I’ve never read anything about Asperger’s that suggests that Aspies are especially lazy or malfeasant.

The way that Google’s SafeSearch filter handles returns for [penis] vs. the way it handles them for [clitoris] isn’t a product of seeing things differently. It’s just plain lazy. Somewhere inside of Google, an engineer was tasked with filtering “adult” sites from returning under “strict filtering” searches. Somehow he (I’m going to have to assume this engineer is a man,) when confronted with the vagaries English language, was able to write an algorithm that allowed 30 million “safe” returns for [penis]. But when faced with the same problem for [clitoris] he found it easier to simply put clitoris on a list of banned words.

That’s not Aspie-ish, that’s just lazy and sexiest.

[Erotic] was too much trouble for him, so it got banned too. [Nude] and [naked] were too much trouble, so they were out. His algorithm couldn’t tell the difference between a nursery rhyme rooster and a raging hard-on, so [cock] got banned. Is this webpage talking about kitty-cats or cunts? His algorithm couldn’t tell, so [pussy] went on to the list, along with [bastard] and [anus]. For some reason his algorithm could find 4.7 million “safe” returns for [glans] and 2.5 million “safe” returns for [testicle], but not a single “safe” return for [fellatio] or [cunnilingus], so they went on the list as well.

That’s not the product of a odd blind spot to social interaction, that’s just lazy and ass-covering; not to mention laughable coming from a company that touts its “advance proprietary technology.” (I’ll leave it to someone else to decide whether or not it’s [evil].)

Now Susie Bright has gotten her teeth into the sexist implications of the penis versus clitoris filtering, and has written, in “Clitoris” on Google’s Banned Word List:

I recall the 1970s abortion rights poster that read “If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament.” The sexism of the Internet infrastructure is the same joke. There is no way that men would consider “prostate cancer” an inappropriate search or conversation item. They would never for a moment consider that their “penis” was a word that couldn’t be allowed in a respectable business or learning environment.

But women’s bodies? Oh, you’re familiar with the filthy and unspeakable territory those will lead you into. It’s in the Bible, right?

Let’s stop coddling Internet censorship as if it were an etiquette or a “children’s” issue. The people suffering from being firewalled and banned aren’t commercial porn-makers with some gonzo to pitch – they’re educators, healthcare professionals, midwives, nurses, doctors, researchers, artists, writers, filmmakers, political activists, critics and analysts– all of whom find their interest in women’s lives to be shrouded in the great Internet burqa of “safeness.”

Look. I write a blog with “sex” right up in the title, and I make part of a living at it. So it’s no surprise that I’ve always hated the lame and weak approach to filtering that Google (well, all the search engines, but who else matters?) uses to disrupt and marginalize the great internet conversation about sex. It’s also no surprise that I can’t talk about this without some mental genius popping up in my comments to suggest that I wouldn’t care about this if I didn’t want more visitors to my blog. Happens, I’ve got six years of blog posts that prove I care passionately about the free exchange of sexual ideas, so I don’t let the nattering slow me down much. All of which is preface to my point, which is that I’m freaking delighted to see the beginnings of a noisy conversation about this.

Is there any hope that the sex bloggers of America can shame Google into being less shame-faced about the sexual contents of its search index? Given the massively overwhelming numerical superiority of the prudish majority to whom Google is catering with searches “safe” from female sexuality, probably not. But it’s important to remember that the actual people at Google are unlikely to be all that prudish or sexist; they are just, as Tony has pointed out so well, taking the lazy way out when attempting to do something (catering to sexist prudes) that they’d probably rather not be doing anyway, but for their perception (or perhaps assumption?) that it’s a corporate necessity.

Thus, I see at least a faint hope that if the mockery of their weak and lame filtering shortcuts is loud enough, they’ll have to improve their filtering systems out of a mix of professional pride and a sense of public relations necessity. If we can just disrupt their comfortable assumption that all sexual discussion is acceptable collateral damage, to be readily sacrificed in their (very difficult and endless) war against spammy porn sites, that alone would be a worthwhile step in the right direction.

Beware EdenFantasys.com

If you’re a regular sex blog reader or writer, you’re probably aware of EdenFantasys.com (Eden Fantasys). They’re one of the many companies competing for your internet sex toy dollar, and they are more prominent than many because they spread a fair amount of money (and sex toys) around the blogging community in exchange for reviews and attention. They never impressed me much — despite advertising briefly on ErosBlog — because their store front and inventory always seemed hopelessly “more of the same” to me, with nothing to distinguish the brand. But, probably, that’s just me.

One of the smart things they did was to hire AAG (formerly “Always Aroused Girl”), whose sex blogger credentials and contacts were (and are) very good, to do PR and outreach for them. And she did it well.

The not smart thing? When their business relationship with her went sour, they refused, she says, to pay her for work performed. Apparently they forgot the first rule of business, which is that your PR professional remains a PR professional even after she stops being your PR professional.

My own many years of doing business over the internet have taught me something that serious businessmen already knew — namely, that business is all about trust, and especially about character. I’ve quoted J.P. Morgan before: “A man I do not trust could not get money from me on all the bonds in Christendom.” Thus, in my opinion, a person, or a company, that fails to resolve its business disputes on the labor side, is also the sort of outfit that can’t be trusted to fairly resolve its disputes on the customer side. Whatever the details of AAG’s dispute with EdenFantasys.com, I know her well enough to know that she’s not unreasonable. If they failed to resolve their dispute with her, I personally don’t trust them to resolve their dispute with you, if you should be unhappy with your results after playing the big internet gambling game that is forking over your credit card and ordering merchandise from Hera-only-knows-where.

Hence, this warning.

There are plenty of sex toy stores on the internet. You don’t need to take a risk on an outfit that treats its contract employees unfairly.

One final note: Eden Fantasys is currently sending out spammy form letters to sex bloggers, seeking to arrange link exchanges, toy reviews, and the like. If you get (or have gotten) any of these, you might consider responding with a suggestion that they resolve their dispute with AAG. I’m sure she would appreciate the support.

The Spirit of Capitalism

One of the nicer perks of publishing a long-running sex blog is that sometimes I get the most amazing stuff in the mail from people who hope I’ll blog about it. This strategy has mixed results at best, because I’m terrible about actually doing product reviews. However, if the swag impresses me enough, I will sometimes write about it.

The latest “blow me away” box of goodies was a HUGE pile of dirty manga (close to thirty titles) from Icarus Publishing. (Their motto: “Keeping the ‘manga is porn’ stereotype alive”.) These turn out to be way better (for an ugly American like me) than the stuff I can download a few random pages at a time from 4chan or Usenet. Icarus Publishing puts out well-printed publications that are nicely translated and (the ones I’ve looked at, anyway) completely uncensored — no pixelations or stupid little black lines. All in all, I found shuffling through these titles to be a premium manga porn viewing experience.

Given the ongoing financial meltdown, the first title I pulled out of the box was something called “The Spirit of Capitalism.” It’s a fitting title in these trying economic times, especially since it features office workers getting fucked:

Icarus Publishing (aka Icarus Comics) has some sample pages from The Spirit of Capitalism online for your viewing pleasure, and a deep web catalog that’s well worth your time.

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Sexy, Surreal… Bunny Hoods?

I don’t do very many pure “go buy some shit” blog posts, because it’s very easy for sex blogs to go overboard that way. But sometimes I see something that’s just too deliciously bizarre not to point out.

Anyway, last night I went surfing to see what was new in sex toys, and what I discovered instead was new sexy stuff in the masks and BDSM hoods areas.

What caught my eyes in particular were these expensive, spectacular, and surreal leather bunny hoods, in black or white:

(Sadly the carrot dildo is not included.)

Continuing in the animal vein, check out this scary-but-very-handsome zippered dog-face hood:

You may or may not find these sexy, but you’ve got to admit they catch the eye!

The Uniqueness Of What Works

I was reminded, Sunday night, of the strange way in which there’s no one truth about love or lust or romance or about anything else interesting to humans. The Nymph and I went to see Vicki Christina Barcelona, the latest Woody Allen movie. I enjoyed it right well — and Penelope Cruz is just brilliant in her role — but it also gave me a modest insight of sorts.

In the movie, there’s a love triangle that is brief, implausible, and complex. (“Complex” is my eighty-cent college word; my blue collar brother-in-law would be content to say “fucked up”, in a tone of voice suggesting an unacceptable depth of complexity but without any connotation of condemnation.) And yet, just as I was marveling at the very implausibility of the arrangement, I was startled to realize “no, this is just remarkable for being in a movie; it’s not the least bit more complicated than a thousand unusual romantic understandings I’ve seen people reach in the real world, or describe on their personal blogs.” People, real people even more so than scripted people, are willing and able to make the most astonishing compromises and bargains (physical, emotional, financial) in order to get the love, affection, validation (and, yes, sex!) that they need.

Hardly a deep or original insight, but then, I never claimed different. Still, it served to remind me of what I love about the sex blog genre (and to a lesser extent, blogs in general) — namely, that they provide a relatively unfiltered window into the inner romantic and emotional lives of a great many more people than we would normally know well enough (in meat space) to know on that level. And that’s just interesting.

Today’s example is an excerpt from Bitchy Jone’s Diary, in which she is talking about the big strong man she enjoys hurting, and the reasons he enjoys being hurt by her. That’s one of the categories of sexual bargains that usually overstrains the limited capacities my empathic sexual imagination; and so — despite bearing firmly in mind that an explanation of what’s going on for these people may not speak with authority about any other people — I found it fascinating and instructive:

I live in a small, papery ordinary house. I have radiators, I have chairs and tables, but these things are all built practicality, not practical evil. I do not have access to one of those fortresses built out of rusty steel columns where they make the kinky porno. I do not have a room with red walls. The only thing I can really tie Jack to and not have him killcrushdestroy (killcrushdestroy my soft nest of an IKEA catalogue interior that is) is other parts of himself.

‘Cause the trouble is, with him, resistance is fertile.

For all I try and say that submission and masculinity work with each other not against each other: that the whole world has got it wrong with its stupid prevailing ideology about which way round bondage goes. But, no one listens to Cassandra Jones, the world of people-tied-up is built for tying up women. Every guide book, every instructional video is about tying up women, pretty much. Bondage for sex means bondage for being penetrated. So what of me? I like it tough and scary. I like the great big man brought down, down, down. Works brilliantly in my head. In real life: hard work.

Because I like to feel a huge rush of power over a conquered kingdom of a man. But because I reach so high it’s so much harder to bring the thing down low.

Sometimes he feels unscaleable and more often *unbreakable*. And broken is a wonderful state. But so much harder to achieve when starting with an unbreakable thing.

There is that little moment when I hurt him. Right at the start. He makes it very obvious: He assesses what I’m doing and works out if he can deal with it. And he always can — always finds a place to put it — but right before that you see the tiny panic before he *knows* that he can. I’m happiest right there. The moment before either of us remember that he is unbreakable.

Not that I am not in love with that brave thing. That self sacrifice. Once I said to him, ‘I want to him you on the backs of your thighs with a metal ruler.’

And he said, ‘Fine.’ He said ‘fine’ like I’d said ‘I want to go make a cup of tea.’

So I said — more fierce, but more fierce for me just means my jaw sets a little hard — ‘And I want you to hate it.’

He’s rolled over ready for me by now, so he’s looking back over his shoulder. ‘Well I don’t expect I’m going to like it very much.’

And I swoon, there, at the stoic and the brave and the acceptance of me and the things that I need. But I still pine for something more fragile. For more doubt and fear.

I make him fake it. Make him ask for it to stop. Make him ask me not to hurt him. But that’s a level up on the unreality game. And I know that if I wanted it the other way he’d ask me *to* do it too. He doesn’t like pain. He likes being brave. I honestly don’t know where his desire to feel brave would end. Where rationality would take over. I’d like to find out — let the bravery drive us, let it set the pace, decide when we stop – but it’s a frightening place I might end up.

Google’s Mechanical Prude

“Google Suggest” Ignores Adult Search Preference Cookies

Google, as all sex blog readers probably know, filters porn (they call it “explicit sexual content”) out of your search results by default. They call this “Safe Search”, and you can turn if off by letting Google set a cookie in your browser. (Most ErosBlog readers have, presumably, done this.) No worries, it’s been like this for years. We’re used to it, and in many contexts it’s useful to have the filtered option.

Recently, however, Google introduced a dynamic on-the-fly search suggestion feature called Google Suggest. When you type Britney Spears into the search box, a drop-down appears with what Google calls “relevant suggested search terms” in real time:

Nerd response: Cool!

Sex blogger response: Hey, wait a minute! Isn’t something missing from that search box? Wouldn’t you expect to see “Britney Spears nude” on that list?

Let’s check. The list changes with every character you type, so let’s go “britney spears nu” and see if it fills in the suggestion:

Suspicious, but maybe all those “number one” sites are just crowding it out? Let’s make this impossible to miss, let’s try “britney spears nud”:

Whoa! Is that the sound of crickets I’m hearing? “Mom, Google Suggest won’t come out and play with me any more!”

At this point I hit the “Preferences” link and went to check my Safe Search setting; it forgets the “Do not filter my search results” setting every time I clean out all my cookies, and resetting it is the first thing I do after that. Nope, “Do not filter my search results” is checked! That’s not the problem.

And make no mistake, this is a problem, and not just for feelthy perverts like me. This is the sort of thing that sets mild-mannered eyeglasses-wearing librarians sputtering with rage, because once you start filtering out words, like “nude”, that do double duty as erotic signifiers and, you know, plain old information tags, you begin to muck up basic research of the sort that any high school civics class might legitimately be doing. Allow me to illustrate.

Does anybody remember John Ashcroft, and his infamous prudery that had him covering up fine art at the Department of Justice because the bare breasts offended him? Imagine you were trying to write a high school essay about public art and needed to reference that incident. If you actually Google John Ashcroft nude (shudder) you’ll get 39,000-ish results. But start typing that request into Google, and you’ll learn that while John Ashcroft singing “Let The Eagle Soar” might be relevant to your search request (with 10,500 results), “John Ashcroft nude” could not possibly be, even though there are four times as many potential results out there:

Again, we need to check to make sure it didn’t just get choked by having to select between too many potentially relevant suggestions. We can do that by typing more letters; “john ashcroft n” gets me “john ashcroft news” as the sole suggestion, and with “john ashcroft nu” we’re back to the sound of crickets. Sorry, seeker after knowledge, nothing with “nude” in it could possibly be relevant to your search, EVER.

That’s search engine prudery right there, and it’s as stupid and mindless as automated mechanical prudery always is.

Of course, I’m not dealing with search results filtering, what I’m complaining about is search suggestions filtering. But that’s a distinction without a difference, a nit only a lawyer could enjoy picking. Google already has a cookie on my computer telling them that I don’t want them to protect me from the pollution of my vital essences that is the adult internet; what earthly reason could they have for ignoring that preference in determining which searches to show me in the suggestion box?

Just to show the full ridiculousness that is Mrs Grundy as played by The Mechanical Turk, let’s search for dear old Jenna, once said to be the most-searched woman on the internet:

That settles it. The Mechanical Turk “knows” damned well who I’m searching for, knows when I’m two characters into her last name, but it can’t mechanically imagine that “jenna jameson nude” (with nearly half a million search results out there) might be at least as relevant as “jenna jameson neck tattoo”? Sorry my friends, but inside the amazing Mechanical Turk there sits a very human prude.

Again, it’s easy to imagine lots of good business reasons why Google might want to filter even the mildest adult topics out of its search suggestion tool. That’s not my point.

My point is that for many people, Google is only useful if they can get the unfiltered version. Google knows this. Google makes it easy to set the “don’t filter me” button. But what good is that, if they then silently ignore the setting?

OK, now let’s have some fun looking at all the things Google Suggest refuses to suggest.

How about a good spanking? That’s only about as kinky as six inches of your average garden hose these days, plus there’s the whole universe of information out there about why you shouldn’t do it to your kids. Surely Google Suggest has something for the spanking searcher?

Google Suggest says: No spankings for you!

How about porn? If I type “por” into my search bar, you think maybe “porn” might be a relevant search to suggest?

Duh, no, silly me.

Ok, would you like to look at some fine rubber nipples? Or, you know, buy some, for your baby’s bottle or for your plumbing supply store? Sorry, you’re shit outta luck — Google Suggest can offer you “nippleplay” (presumably because the guy writing the filter didn’t get warned against it), but the Mechanical Prude has never heard of a nipple that was relevant to anybody:

That’s enough for now, although readers are invited to find other, especially laughable “never relevant” stop words that choke Google Suggest. Have fun teasing the Mechanical Prude!

Butthurt After Being Rejected By A Porn Star

I know this is supposed to be a sex blog and not a porn industry blog, dammit, but I’ve published ErosBlog for long enough to put me in the porn industry if you look at things just right, and this is where I blog. Anyway, I’m sharing this porn industry link for its sad sad comedy value. What happened is that a self-described “independent film maker” with “friends who work in your industry” posted a long rambling article to the leading adult webmaster board entitled “Porner’s Manifesto: How To Fix Your Industry“.

Some of the guy’s points are sort of obvious “how to do business” advice, but all mixed up with the unsolicited business advice were angry off-topic ranty bits about how porn stars should be more willing to sleep with their fans. I’ve excerpted heavily and taken liberties with paragraph order:

I know its hard but try to care about your fans. Afterall, if you did not have them, where would you be other than in some club trying to get noticed? Give something back to those who pay your bills and I am not talking about the director or producer. They get laid enough. You want to make a difference, try laying one of your fans. Get passed the fact that they do not look like your normal porn partners. So what? In a few years, you will not be as hot as the chick they will be supporting with their hard earned cash then. Build for your future. Ensure a fan for life. I promise you, one day your current fame or vision of fame will fade and what will you be?

Let’s get one thing straight. You have sex for money. Pure and simple. While I would agree this is an art form, it what it is. The only difference between a porn star and an escort is there is a camera involved. Yet, many of these stars tend to smoke the diva hash pipe. These so called stars are hot the day they arrive but once they have been around for awhile, a new girl comes right in to replace you. It doesn’t mean to get an attitude.

I overheard this porn chick one day at Starbucks in LA. Her and her agent were talking about how to increase her popularity and you can imagine the same bullshit. Go on KSex, web sites, radio, etc… So I mention the same things I just did above and the porner looked back at me and said and I quote: “Are you fucking stupid? Why would I ever want to fuck any of my fans? Have you ever seen my fans? They are fucking gross and fat. Why do you think they have to jerk off to me? The day I fuck my fans is the day I become a whore.â€? Now imagine that. I simply replied, you fuck for money, youre a whore.

Seriously, I have never seen an industry that ignores their fans the way porn stars do. Not to mention, these same stars are the ones who think they should be immune to the down times by charging the same rates to producers. I am unsure if anyone has tried to sit them down and explain that what they do isn’t that difficult to find someone else to do. Unless you shoot fireworks out of your vagina, you have sex on camera. It’s not something you went to college for. You do not need a special degree for it. You lay down, you have sex, and then take a brick in the mouth. But to listen to some girls, you would think they are curing world hunger or cancer. The only cancer they may be preventing is prostate cancer but thats still open to debate.

Anybody want to take odds that this guy has (or had) himself in mind as one of the fans “the talent” should be fucking for free? No, too easy? OK, what are the odds he’s actually tried, and failed miserably, to seduce a porn girl? (For “seduce” you could read “make a crude and lazy pass at” with, I suspect, great accuracy.)

Meet Phil, The Biggest Douchebag On Fling

Poor Zoe. I know it’s rough out there on the dating sites, but she had to hear from this goon?

Dear Lord. Now you’re not only looking for an “intellectual,” but a poet laureate as well. A sex blog? You do realize that you’re asking for trouble there, considering what’s probably in store for you.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re on the wrong site if that’s your thrill. Most of the guys on this site are only capable of thinking with the head that does not encapsulate the brain. Do you know the difference between morons and idiots? The morons go too slow while the idiots go too fast.

Seriously, contrary to your idealistic theory, a good sex blog writer does not translate into a good f*#! The guys (and gals) on this site just want to get laid (sorry, that doesn’t sound so intellectual)so you might want to consider [again] changing your criteria. It’s all in the name, right? F-L-I-N-G. Sorry, the “I” doesn’t stand for “intellectual.”

O.K., enough of the verbal diahhrea. I see that you checked out my profile yesterday but never replied to my message. Guess I’m not smart enough, eh? Ha, ha, ha … Again, you can email me at p——-@verizon.net or call me during the day at 617———. Considering that most guys wouldn’t even take the time to correspond in depth (and attempt to rearrange your priorities), you might at least have the decency to reply in kind (a few meager words). Don’t worry, I won’t bite and, at the risk of sounding snobbish/jerky, I’d venture to say that I have had many more years of “writing” and being intellectual than you. Be brave. Phil

… and you want “real” stories. You would be naive to think that these guys are going to be able to deliver anything but the mindless smut they will undoubtedly plagarize from their under-the-bed collection of Penthouse Forums. The moral of the story, Miss Originality, is that it’s better to make your own stories. Hey, are you doing your school thesis on cyberspace sex or something? LOL

I see that you’re back up and running here. You were a bad girl and Fling put you on probation? Enough cyberspace blather already. Can you just call me atb617——— (M-F 9-6)? Phil

In what universe is this guy going to get laid using this technique? What did he do, read a few pickup-artist manuals and utterly misconstrue the already-dubious and highly situational advice about the purported value of deft, funny “negative hits”?

(Plus, is it just me, or is asking to receive your online booty phone calls during regular business hours only a sign that you’re married and bored in your cubicle?)

Mark Davis: Strong And Intense

I still remember thinking in my naive pre-internet youth that “kinky stuff” had to be a purely male thing, that “no woman would want that sort of thing”. And of course, from there it would follow that male kinkiness was a sort of dangerous perversion, if it could have no expression with willing partners.

Ah, how little I knew!

Of course, these days anybody who reads sex blogs written by women (as are a large majority of the ones that have, you know, actual words) knows better.

As pointless as it can be for a man to speculate or generalize about the complex mental machineries of female arousal, you ladies should be aware that we still do it. I’m not sure we could refrain from doing it, to be honest; if anything’s hardwired into male behavior, modeling and attempting to game female sexual arousal is probably that thing. And one outcome of all the speculating and generalizing, for me, has been a partial theory of what women enjoy about rough kinky sex, bondage, and BDSM — really, that whole spectrum of sexuality that doesn’t quite fit the traditional hearts-and-flowers romance model.

I haven’t got time for a thousand words, so how about a picture?

It’s from Sex And Submission, and the rest of the shoot has plenty of ropes and gags and whips and toys and power-tool vibrators and bondage blowjobs and complex rigging with pulleys and all of the other overcomplicated gadgetry that men bring to the hobbies they really enjoy. But this one picture, I think, captures the essence of what’s in it for the ladies. Sometimes (maybe often, but I’m still trying not to overgeneralize here) women want to feel like a strong man like Mark Davis wants them, wants them so intensely that his own “better impulses” and socially-conditioned docility are just overwhelmed by his desire and lust for them. And they enjoy the idea, perhaps embodied in the photo above, that such a man will simply grab them and do what he will — because for the woman, that outcome is the ultimate proof of her own irresistible sexual attraction and desirability.

Where fantasy and reality differ, of course, is that a strong man who lacks that much self-control is dangerous — he cannot safely be allowed within about thirty miles of any human settlement. But a trustworthy man who can still project that aura of dangerous uncontrolled lust? He, it turns out, is a popular fellow indeed.

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Art Keeps Getting In My Porn

One thing I like about writing a sex blog, in this era of increasing porn saturation, is that as the competition heats up, and production values increase, I’m seeing more and more porn that looks like art, especially from the high-quality porn producers like Kink.com or (for your non-kinky examples) Femjoy or Domai.

It used to be that a shot like this one, of Candice Nicole enjoying an enforced contemplative post-ejaculatory moment during a Sex And Submission shoot, would have come only from the studio of one of the “arty” guys like Craig Morey or Richard Kern:

My problem with erotic art photography is that, historically, it has tended to strike me as self-conscious and defensive, and in its defensiveness, it often grew boring. In its worst form, we get that endless flood of semi-abstract nudes that congest web galleries and college sophomore life photography classes. You know what I’m talking about: the curve of a buttock or breast, usually upside down or at an odd angle, often pressed against some random implausible texture like old roofing tin, presented in black and white with funky lighting so as to make the whole project safely non-sexual.)

Luckily, as the standards and technology of porn photography get better, I’m seeing a best-of-both-worlds convergence, with your favorite subscription porn shack pumping out art-quality photos of a volume and diversity and unapologetic lustful sexuality that even the best “erotic art” photographers never seemed to manage. And I love it!

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A Fetish For Commitment

I’ve commented before that anything can be a fetish, and that one of the things I like best about sex blogging is reading people try to explain why certain things turn them on, that we’d not usually expect would do so. Needless to say, this ring fingering thing from Chelsea at Pretty Dumb Things made my day:

Marriage is a contract that I may never make, and yet I like being fingered by men with wedding rings. It’s not that I can feel the ring. Wedding rings tend toward the slim and the flat. I’ve never had the experienced the interior wriggling of a finger with a ring rococo as Liberace’s , a skull bauble thick as Keith Richard’s, a chunk of metal clunky as Robert Lee Morris’s Superman. The rings that have been inside me have been modest, prudent, utilitarian bands signaling commitment.

There have been three of them in reality and one in my imagination.

…

Clearly, when the finger is diddling me, I can’t see the ring. I can’t even feel the ring. So the pleasure of the ring comes neither from the visual nor from the sensual. It’s a purely imaginative power. It’s a pleasure that rests in the seat of all pleasure–my pinky-grey and corrugated brain.

It’s difficult for me to put my finger on the exact spot of that imaginary pleasure. I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that part is powered by the shock of the illicit thrill, if indeed the finger belonging to the man fingering me is infidel. Like almost every other human, I do feel pleasure in transgression, and crossing this boundary, like all the strange others that for one reason or another give me the good down-low tingle, nudges whatever purely physical pleasure there is into electrically-charged territory. But the illicitness isn’t it in and of itself.

I know that it’s not because the man, the imagined man, the one without the ring, the one whose ring I imagined and in imagining it found great delight, was Donny, my now-X and then erstwhile fiancé. It was his imagined not-ring that prodded me to gyrate indecorously one sunny August afternoon, his naked fingers twisting and turning inside me. My mind furnished his finger with a ring. It bedighted his third finger on his left hand with a ring, and though neither the ring nor even possibly that exact finger was rubbing the walls of my pussy like a magic lamp, it was real enough to me, and I came from the concept as much as from the reality.

Which all leads me to believe it’s not the cheating that I like. It’s the abstract concept of commitment. It’s the symbolism of the ring, this piece of metal that our culture uses to denote those of us who have made a pact with another human from those of us who haven’t. It doesn’t matter whether the man has committed to me–though clearly my fetishization of the ring in general and my somatic response to Donny’s fictive ring in specific suggests that a commitment to me would be ideal–it’s that this man has committed, for good, bad, or ugly to someone.

It’s all very strange, though. Just as a gentlemen is advised to remove his socks before sexual congress with a woman, wouldn’t the usual rules of etiquette demand that he remove his wedding ring before fingering a woman not his wife? I’m not sure Emily Post ever covered that nuance.

Self-Portrait Of A Crapping Troll

Remember my post Crapping All Over Beauty? I wrote then:

What I’ve learned running a sex blog is that there are a whole host of guys whose only mode of discourse about bodily appearance is to make a negative comment. I think perhaps it originates in adolescent one-upsmanship; one guy says “Sally’s hot, I’d like to do herâ€? and the other guys all say “No, man, she’s a pig, she’s got a huge assâ€? as a way of belittling the first guy. However it started, the result is a fairly large class of guys whose reflex response whenever they see an erotic picture is to say something mean and ugly about the body depicted.

It’s clearly an act of emotional aggression, some sort of attempt to establish superiority by expressing contempt for that which other people consider beautiful.

I was reminded of this when I saw a trollish comment set reproduced on Naked Protesters, consisting of 35 mostly-ugly comments left by the same commenter in the course of fifty short minutes. Here are just three of them:

“I don’t know who the hell she is but somebody please put a shirt on her! ooo, she gross.”

“Oh crap Lesbians! Old ugly lesbians. RUUUUUUNNN”

“What a pic. A boob that is close to dragging the ground. More armpit hair than a lumberjack. And get a load of the tatooed thing behind her. Where do you have to go to find such strangeness?”

Where, indeed?

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.

It Gets Up The Nose

One of the things I like about reading a diversity of sex blogs is that you get sexual accounts that are written in historic, rather than fictive, voice. Commercial porn is most often told in the voices we reserve for telling tales. Sex blogs, by contrast, are often written in the voices we use to retell our lives and histories. It can be refreshingly different, because it allows for real moments that would usually be edited out of the smooth story arc of competent fiction, but which are really the heart and soul and flavor of a good history.

Today’s example: Always Aroused Girl writing about what got up her nose.

“I want to come on your face.”

My head already hung half-way over the edge of the bed, so I quickly swiveled under him. “Give it to me,” I demanded, and I didn’t have to wait long. Before I could hoist my tits into what I thought would be the most attractive position, hot come splashed over me.

And then it obeyed the call of gravity, as fluids are wont to do. If I’d have moved I would have destroyed the tail end of his orgasm and possibly run head first into his nut-sack. So I laid still, but I couldn’t control my laughter as the come found its way into my hair.

And into my eyes. And up my nose.

He came to from the pleasure and noticed the state of my face. Immediately a stream of apologies shot forth from his mouth. I assured him that I loved – nay, lived for – being covered in come. “Can I get you a towel?” he asked, heading toward the bathroom.

“Yes please, and a nasal aspirator, if you have one.”

People Need To Hear About It

Greta Christina has a good essay up on the Blowfish Blog on sexual perspective and the reasons we aren’t very accepting as a culture of other people’s sexual tastes:

So unless you’re pathologically stubborn, you eventually learn perspective. You figure out that, as much as you may personally dislike broccoli or blue cheese, Wagner or Western Swing, people who eat it/ listen to it are not mentally deranged. (Or the reverse: that as much as you may personally enjoy these delights, people who don’t like them are not pathologically cut off from the one true source of pleasure and meaning.) People still do sometimes make personal judgments about others based on their tastes in food and music; but those judgments don’t usually result in people being sent to the county jail or the loony bin.

But when it comes to sex, most of us don’t get that kind of training. People don’t come back to work on Mondays and chat about how they tried spanking over the weekend, they way they’ll chat about how they tried a new Moroccan restaurant or went to see a German funk band their brother told them about. They don’t go to parties and share a funny story about the new buttplug they just bought, the way they’ll tell a funny story about trying to make a salmon souffle for their in-laws or the weird harpist who opened for Radiohead. (Well, they sometimes do at my parties . . . but you know what I mean.) Most of us haven’t been regaled with myriad and varied stories about exactly what kinds of sex other people like, and why exactly they like it.

It’s better now than it once was, by a long shot. The amount of sexual information that’s easily available today far surpasses anything I had when I was young. But most of us still don’t get exposed to a widely varied range of sexual tastes . . . not the way we get exposed to a barrage of different tastes in music and food, simply as part of everyday life.

And I think that casual barrage is exactly what we need to break through the intensely personal, intensely visceral nature of our sensual experience and give us perspective on it. It’s what we need to teach us that other people really and truly feel differently about sex than we do.

I have to agree with this as a matter of personal anecdote. Although I considered myself a fairly free-thinking and tolerant guy when I started this sex blog more than five years ago, some of the distancing remarks in my old archived posts (like this one, where I was obviously anxious to express my distaste for bukkake) make me wince in embarrassment now, so clear is it to me that I was uncomfortable with the sexual diversity I was reporting on. But the constant barrage of sexual information that I’ve processed in the course of writing this blog has given me much of the perspective Greta is writing about. The most unusual sexual practices now typically strike me as no more problematic than a taste for live grubs or pickled beets — I’d strongly prefer not to have any, thanks, but I’m not disturbed or surprised (ok, still a little surprised, sometimes) that somebody else finds enjoyment there.

Porn Versus Activism In The Troll Ecosystem

Just in case you missed it, Violet Blue did a talk at the big Etech 2008 shindig, a talk that ranges widely across the big topic of sexual identity online and how we construct it, shape it, and especially, defend it (and ourselves, where there’s a difference) from online trolls, stalkers, and haters of all sorts. Here’s Violet Blue about her talk, here’s the transcript.

It’s juicy chewy idea-rich media, the sort of thing that makes me worry about the decline in printed magazines, because I like to buy printed magazines with this sort of info-dense article in them (Wired used to do a lot of this) to read when I’m traveling and have a lot of time to read and think. Just pulling out a random useful and true paragraph:

I’ve been a blogger and occasional full-time editor at Fleshbot.com almost since its inception, a job when full time requires me to scour the internets for explicit sexual content of reasonable quality. We endeavor to cover a wide range of sexual expression and all genders and orientations; one of our regular features is the Sex Blog Roundup. When I did it weekly, I had upwards of 300 text-only sex blogs written by individuals worldwide in my RSS reader — outside the 50 or so usual suspects of variety sex blogs, mainstream media news, linkdumps and sex news blogs. Every week I’d have to cull for new blogs to add to my feeds because invariably a handful of sex bloggers who were blogging “anonymously” had to quit blogging — meaning they were for one reason or another, no longer anonymous. It was such a regular occurrence I developed a snarky attitude toward the anonymous sex blogger, even though they often offered up the juiciest and most explicit posts about sex. Time and again, they are a sure bet for being outed or discovered, have the shortest life span, and are the least reliable for following as a human narrative.

(That paragraph is also nostalgic for me, because I compiled the first of Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundups, and immensely enjoyed doing them until I ran out of time to keep up with the extra work. Sadly, I don’t think I understood the full power of RSS back then, or I might be doing them yet.)

One thing that struck me about Violet’s talk, however, was that it describes a dangerous-sounding online world for sex bloggers, full of hatred and weird jealousies and stalker trolls and malevolent creeps, so much so that she’s got an entire array of procedures and tactics for defending herself and returning the fight to her attackers. And that’s bizarre to me; in more the five years of blogging, the worst I’ve seen from that list is ranting commenters who are deeply threatened by a world — the world I advocate — in which no sexuality is condemned or forcibly closeted or judged by any standard other than who gets hurt. Death threats she gets? It’s been months since I so much as got one of those “you’re going to burn in hell” invitations to attend church services.

So, why the difference? I trust Violet innately — as far as I’m concerned, she’s one of the most honest voices on the Internet — so she’s not exaggerating or being oversensitive or doing anything else from the “there there, little lady, don’t be hysterical” laundry list of excuses for men to ignore surprising and unwelcome female narratives. Of course, she is a woman and I’m not. And equally of course, she’s got ten thousand times more skin in the game, literally and figuratively. She doesn’t use a pseudonym, she’s active in print and broadcast media, she lives and works visibly in a vital and media-connected city, she talks about her real and actual life, she gives people handles by which to grab for her, and she bares experiences online that actually matter to her, stuff her enemies can use against her.

Whereas, I sit in my undisclosed location in Red-State America and upload an endless stream of pointers to, and scanty commentary on, sexually entertaining stuff that’s happening somewhere else in the vast internet information ecology. When I started this blog, I didn’t even have a personal sex life to blog about. I was temporarily unemployed and sitting in a studio apartment sharing badly microwaved nachos with an unsympathetic parrot who perched on my shoulder and chewed holes in my undershirt while I blogged. (I know that sounds sad, but I was actually enjoying life quite a lot, apart from the “no girlfriend” thing.) By the time I fell in with The Nymph, I was comfortable with my pattern; sex blogging is something I do about other people, using information they’ve already made public. It makes things much safer and more comfortable, and (combined with the male versus female thing) explains a great deal of the difference between Violet’s and my experiences of the sex-blogging life.

So, that’s a lot of the explanation, but is it all of it? While pondering the matter, and reading reactions to Violet’s talk, I found Ethan Zuckerman’s blog and especially, his notes from his own Etech talk on The Cute Cat Theory Of Digital Activism. He was apparently at Tripod back in those dark ages where most folks needed a service like Tripod in order to “have a web page”, and he formulated the theory that

Any sufficiently advanced read/write technology will get used for two purposes: pornography and activism. Porn is a weak test for the success of participatory media – it’s like tapping a mike and asking, “Is it on?” If you’re not getting porn in your system, it doesn’t work. Activism is a stronger test – if activists are using your tools, it’s a pretty good indication that your tools are useful and usable.

Reading that paragraph was an “ah-ha!” moment for me. Because another huge difference between Violet and me is that, although we are both sex bloggers by any reasonable definition, I’m more of a pornographer and she’s more of an activist.

We both do stuff that blurs the lines, of course; sometimes I make posts that have at least a whiff of activist sentiment in them, and often she links to pretty pr0n pictures. But at any given blogging moment, my first thought is “will this amuse, entertain, or turn somebody on?” And, while I can’t speak for what happens in Violet’s thoughts, she’s clearly got causes — like sex education, to name just one — that animate and drive her blogging, her published writing, her public appearances, whole swathes of her professional life.

Perversely, I think her activism makes her sex blogging even more interesting and entertaining than my detached approach, so it’s not like there’s a sharp division between entertainer and activist. It’s just that — and this is the not-very-startling hypothesis you’ve waded through many long paragraphs to hear about — activists are more threatening than entertainers. They upset more apple carts, gore more oxen, get more done, make more enemies because they threat more status quos. Activists piss people off. Their fans and enemies alike are more animated and engaged.

And that, maybe, is why Violet Blue needs police contacts at the SFPD, while I make do with a lightly tweaked comment moderation plugin for my WordPress install.

Fancy A Tingle?

I am enamored of the concept of electric lingerie, in the best high-Victorian quack medical style of course. These garments probably did not have the beneficial effects advertised, but I have no doubt they delivered one hell of a jolt! That’s how you could tell they were “working”:

From the Electrosex Blog.

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Feminist Porn Wars

With a few notable exceptions, this sex blog generally stays away from the feminist porn wars, which always strike me as being in the nature of unhappy negotiations over the way political correctness ought to be defined by and among its most cutting-edge advocates and devotees.

Still, the wars continue, whether I blog about them or not. Case in point: this account from Audacia Ray, about some flack she took for allowing oppressive patriarchal semen to touch women’s bodies in a porn movie she made:

I was on a panel called “Good Porn for Good Girls” that featured some female porn directors. When I first found out about the panel, I was a little apprehensive — the idea of me being a good girl is kind of funny (to say the least), and it’s also annoying that despite the fact that I’ve never called The Bi Apple “porn for women,” other people enthusiastically slap that label on it. I’m a woman, and a self-identified feminist. Ergo, my porn must be for women.

Really, I find this tiresome — I made The Bi Apple for people who want to see a slightly different vision of sexual interaction, people who are queer or pansexual or just plain curious about people and bodies and fucking. Women are of course invited — but so is everyone.

…

Anyway … the panel quickly devolved into an argument about blowjobs. A few audience members questioned the prevalence of blowjobs in Erika Lust’s films and the extent to which giving a blowjob is a feminist act. Erika quickly said that she personally likes giving blowjobs, which is why they are in her films so much, and she personally is a feminist, so do the math. It definitely seemed like the crowd didn’t buy this explanation.

I’ve seen this happen too when people ask “Why do the men in your movie ejaculate on the women’s bodies?” and my answer “I asked the female performers where they wanted the cum, so it’s all up to them where it’s deposited” is often greeted with skepticism. This kind of skepticism is the stuff of “false consciousness” — or the belief that if only we (being Erika, me, and female porn performers who like getting cum on them) were radicalized to better understand our oppression, we would know that cocksucking and money shots are Bad For Women.

Blogging Without Comments?

I notice that Mistress Matisse has made an interesting blogging choice — she’s turned off her blog comments, and she explains why:

So, you may have noticed that the comment box has gone away. I made a vague remark a few days ago suggesting it was a technical issue, but in fact, I took the comments box off myself, because I was the one having issues.

…

I have become aware, lately, that my writing here has gotten really…careful. Almost defensive. When I considered it, I realized that it was due to my thinking too much about what people were going to post in the comments. When I first started blogging, I loved getting comments. At some point, that changed. Naturally it’s always been nice to have people say how much they liked this or that. I’m human, I like praise. But getting strokes can’t be the entire goal of the blog. Monk told me how Pete Townsend once remarked that people always talk about how musicians influence their listeners, but that the reverse was also true: fan feedback influences musicians. That’s true for me as well, and I feel it’s been detrimental to my writing here. When I took the comments off ten days ago, it was an experiment to see how I felt. And what I felt was an immediate sense of being freed from a constraint. Thus, I will not be having comments here anymore.

Even as I write this, I’m feeling the urge to bring up and pro-actively address all the various protests and arguments that I think you, the reader, might make. Defensive. But as with everything in my life — and in yours too — my choice to remove comments is influenced by a number of factors, both large and small. Some of my reasons I have shared with you here, but there are others I’m not going into, either because they are too complex or too personal. Without the comments box hanging over my head, I feel freer to write what I want, without lengthy justification.

I suppose it’s possible the silence will get to me after a while and I’ll put them back up, but not any time in the foreseeable future. You can, of course, email me with your comments, and I will probably post and publicly respond to selected ones.

I’ve got a fairly complex reaction to that. Before any of you start busting my balls the way some of you did over my post about deleting blog archives (and “here I go again!” with the defensive writing Matisse is talking about) I’m not going to question her decision, merely share my reaction to it and speculate about whether the very real benefits will outweigh what I see as a significant downside.

Like Matisse, I love getting comments. Unlike her, that hasn’t changed for me. But the proactive, defensive urge is very strong. My readers and fans (and I treasure you all) are a joy to hear from, but on the internet, there’s always a thundering brigade of trollish folk whose entire joy in life seems (judging by their behavior) to derive from attempts to “score” by going out on the internet and posting criticisms, rude comments, sarcastic put-downs, contradictions, and abrasively dismissive arguments. For these minor predators, the game of blog commenting seems to consist entirely of finding ways to piss in other people’s Cheerios.

It’s bad enough for me, who blogs from behind a shield of anonymity and (this being the bigger deal) puts very little of my actual life into the blog. These bloggers who, like Matisse, share considerable detail about their business, personal, social, and erotic lives, have a great deal more skin in the game. And it’s all food for the thundering brigade. Frankly I am often astonished at how open other sex bloggers leave themselves, and I do wonder where they find the mental energy to resist or endure the horde of nibbling predators.

After minimizing my exposure, I manage the thundering brigade by giving myself free and guiltless license to moderate with extreme ruthlessness. I demand civility, and not just in an icy may-it-please-the-court technical sense; comments that don’t come across as open-handedly friendly (no matter how critical they may or may not be) tend not to survive the moderation process. It’s not that the thundering brigade doesn’t visit here, it’s just that I don’t provide them with shelter, beer, or skittles.

That said, I still struggle with the self-censoring defensive urge Matisse is talking about. When I notice it, I try to resist it. Sometimes, I forbid myself to “bring up and pro-actively address” various inevitable criticisms, telling myself that (a) the rude versions won’t make it through moderation, and (b) if one of my valued, friendly commenters raises the issue, I can address it reactively. But, too often, I simply reword the blog post to avoid the objection. Sometimes this makes for better writing, but other times, it just makes things more bland. Without comments, I’m sure I’d be far more provocative.

That said, comments fill a social connectivity gap that email simply cannot replace. Sending an email automatically assigns a private communicative weight to whatever you say in it. You don’t do it if what you’re saying is below a certain level of triviality. But that same trivial remark may be perfect in a blog comment, because when you comment on a blog, it’s like saying something to a small and friendly audience, such as a cluster of friends at a cocktail party. You don’t say it to communicate, you say it to entertain and interact with the group. A private email cannot hope to replace that function.

By turning off blog comments, it seems to me that Matisse has blocked off an important avenue of social connectivity with her blog audience. In her context — which includes a meatspace life so rich in social connectivity that she clearly has to juggle furiously to maintain it all) — this may well be a perfectly sensible thing to do. But I know I would feel a terrible pang if I had to do that here at ErosBlog. If I had to do it, it would feel like saying “The party in my living room is over. From now on, when I want to talk to you, I’ll come out on the front porch and read from a prepared statement.”

I actually do think my “prepared statements” (my blog posts) would be a little bit better — more provocative, less defensive, fewer disclaimers and weaselly explanatory phrases. But, though my writing might be better, my blog would be worse, if that distinction makes any sense.

And another good thing about comments. They let me ask questions like this: What do you think?

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Anal Fisting, By Michelangelo

Is there anal fisting in the Sistine Chapel? If not, did there used to be? Art historians (amateur or otherwise) are invited to weigh in!

Here’s the image:

And here’s the attribution: (via)

Michelangelo’s Punishment of Sodomy. Detail of the Last Judgement from the Sistine Chapel, 1536-1541. Source: Erotica Universalis by Gilles Néret, p. 102. Copy by Witkowski, Gustave-Joseph-Alphonse (1844-1923)

So, this image is said to be a copy by a relatively modern artist. But, a copy of what, exactly?

I’ve studied available online images of the Last Judgment as it appears in the Sistine Chapel, and no detail like this is immediately apparent. However, I know that Michelangelo made many sketches and drawings before climbing his scaffold, and I know the church has had a habit over the years of altering details of religious artworks it found inconvenient. See, e.g., the bronze underwear I blogged about when this sex blog was impossibly new.

So, is this fisting image really a copy of something Michelangelo drew or painted? And if so, does such a Michelangelo fisting image really appear in the Sistine Chapel? Inquiring minds want to know.

As it happens, I’ve got a copy of Erotica Universalis, but it’s in impossibly deep storage, and it wouldn’t help further anyway. Being essentially a catalog of ancient pornographic curiousities, its attributions cannot be expected to be unduly rigid.

My own theory is that this Witowski character actually drew a deliberately pornographic parody of Michelangelo’s sinners, rather than a copy. But there were strange things done in the history of religious art, and I’d be delighted to find out I was wrong.

ErosBlog Image Badges

I am today announcing the availability of the ErosBlog Image Badge, which is a sort of widgety badge or banner that anyone can grab and put in their blog sidebars to display the most recent picture that’s on ErosBlog:

ErosBlog: The Sex Blog

Get this!

The idea, which feels a bit pretentious to me but which has been requested by a number of people, is to provide an easy (and hopefully attractive) way for owners and users of other sites to see at a glance when I’ve got new “dirty” pictures up.

The ErosBlog Image Badge won’t always show the most recent picture, because I’m going to try to limit these thumbs to the images that are attractive, soft-core, and friendly to the thumbnail format. But it should update with a new picture once or twice a week.

I’ve tried to make the Badges easy to use — it’s just a snippet of html to put in your blog sidebar (or wherever). Images come off my server and are updated automatically, so the Badges are zero maintenance for you.

If you want an ErosBlog Image Badge for your site, just follow this link and copy the code you see into your sidebar template code at the spot you want the Badge to appear. The badge needs a space at least 160 pixels wide; if you try to put it into a sidebar narrower than that, things could get ugly or broken. The badge will try to center itself in whatever space you put it; if that doesn’t work for you, you’ll need to tweak it.

If you’re a genuine glutton for punishment, this link gives you similar code for a much taller Badge showing the most recent three badge images:

ErosBlog: The Sex Blog

Get this!

Please feel free to ask questions in the comments. Enjoy!

George Clooney’s Sex Pillow

Yup, that’s universal heart-throb (well, hearts are at least on the throb list) George Clooney carrying a Liberator Wedge on the set of a new movie. Talk about Liberator product placement!

(Cue an entire legion of ladies simpering “He can place his product anywhere he wants as far as I’m concerned!”)

Picture (and all the details) from here.

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Five Candles

Ladies and gentlemen and faithful readers and visitors, I’m pleased to announce that today marks the fifth anniversary of ErosBlog’s first post.

I’m rather proud to have been in continuous publication for half a decade. 1,853 posts spread over 1,825 days averages to 1.015 posts per day. Of course it wasn’t that regular — there are a couple of posting gaps that stretch close to a month in length. But a daily post has always been the goal, and if I never managed that much, I’ll settle for that 1.015 posts-per-day average.

When I started this thing, internet diaries had been around for at least as long as the web, and some of them (especially the BDSM lifestyle ones) had a lot of adult content. Blogs (known by that name, or by its then-still-in-use linguistic ancestor, “weblogs”) were a few years old, but had exploded in popularity and visibility just in the previous year. Sex blogs — as a genre — were unheard of. There was Daze Reader, there was World Sex News, there was BJ’s Gay Porno-Crazed Ramblings. There were pretty pictures every day at Sensual Liberation Army and some other places. Lots of proto-sex-blogs, but none that had adopted that characterization of themselves. So, as far as I know, Eros Blog was the first internet thing to claim that description.

I can’t claim to have invented the idea of a sex blog — whomever registered sexblog.com, before I tried to, can prove that — and I can’t claim to have invented the act of sex blogging, which was all over LiveJournal before I ever heard of blogging. But I think I was the first person, to think of it, do it, and call it by the name.

One possible exception — a sex blogger who was there before me by a few months, doing what I’d consider the first recognizable sex blog and conceptualizing her work in roughly that way, was Susannah Breslin. She did a blog called The Reverse Cowgirl, she was well connected with web heavyweights and early blogging gurus, and she blogged pretty exclusively about sex and culture. It was nice stuff, she was kind enough to link me early, but I simply cannot remember if she ever called her project a sex blog. She might have; certainly she could have, because that’s what it was.

Unfortunately it was from Susannah that I first learned to hate the destruction wrought by blog vandalism. She was linked all over the web, she was getting a lot of media attention, and then one day without a word of explanation her blog was gone and links all over the blogosphere were 404ing. Then a while later she had another project up, very artistic and overdesigned but having many bloglike features; it too vanished. After that I lost track, but there have been more; she’s got another “Reverse Cowgirl” blog going at the moment, with archives going all the way back to 2006, but not a single link to any of her earlier projects (presumably because they are all gone). I owe Susannah a considerable debt for inspiration and early traffic, but she’s also the one who taught me to be wary of folks who treat the web like a rented space for temporary performance art.

So! Five years. Two hosts. Three blog software platforms. At least half a dozen different templates. A metric buttload of spam and raging idiocy moderated out of the comments. Two web interviews, perhaps half a dozen press inquiries (ignored because I still enjoy psuedonymous posting). One hell of a lot of fun.

One of the fun things for me is to look at how my posts (and me) have changed over five years. When I started, writing about sexual stuff was very hard for me (even in my usual detached “look at those people over there and what they say they are doing” style). I was stilted and awkward. I was afraid that to write about a thing meant people would think I liked it. Worse yet, I cared about that, and would include horrid little disclaimers. Bacchus wrote about Bacchus in the third person for eight long months. I remain indebted to Eugene Volokh for providing me, a day too late, with the vocabulary word for that literary atrocity. Thanks to him, I now understand that I Am No Longer An Illeist.

As for me, when I started this blog I was single, lonely, and underemployed by my own choice due to increasing disillusionment with my profession (a little) and with the demands of the job culture (a lot). Now I’ve got The Nymph, we’re ridiculously happy together, and my adult web projects support me better than a job ever did, with me working only when it suits me. And it does suit me! I used to read in the business magazines about successful power suit types who would wake up in the morning full of enthusiasm for getting into the office to do whatever they did, and I’d boggle at that alien worldview. Now, I wake up in the morning, often as not, with an idea for tweaking or improving one of my websites, and I’m full of enthusiasm for the idea of getting up and tinkering with it. Life has never been better.

I couldn’t hope to thank properly all the other bloggers who deserve it, for providing me with support, encouragement, linkage, ideas, material, inspiration… but to list even the first fraction of them would require listing half my blog roll. All I can say is, thanks to you all. And thanks — even more thanks! — to the thousands of loyal readers who come back every day to see my blather and follow my links.

I owe special thanks to my regular guest blogger, Aphrodite, who has been backing me up and providing the woman’s touch around here for more than three years. Although her posts have never been frequent, she’s provided considerable invisible assistance, especially with comment spam filtering before we got it as automated as it tends to be today. I remain delighted and honored to have her help.

What about the future? Will there be a “Ten Candles” post on October 3, 2012?

At the speed technology, culture, and politics are changing in this crazy world, it’s hard to know for sure, but I truly do hope so! I love doing this blog and I can’t imagine stopping voluntarily. Five years ago it was still possible to claim that blogs were a fad. Five years from now, it’s possible we’ll all be considered impossibly old-fashioned, like paper magazines and network television and phones that plug into the wall. But this is about the sex, baby! And people don’t get bored with that, so I should still have an audience.

I’ll conclude with a list of some of my forgotten favorites — an even dozen sex blog posts I enjoyed writing and still enjoy reading, posts that seemed important to me, or posts that other people seemed particularly to enjoy.

• Bacchus On Porn
• Andrea Dworkin On Blowjobs
• This Is The Culture War
• Competing With Porn
• A Basic Rule For Gentlemen
• Sex And Submission
• Evil Porn Werewolf Enslavers Debunked
• Crapping All Over Beauty
• Two Smiles
• An Economist Confused About Porn
• More on NSFW
• Blogging Services Still Haven’t Stopped Sucking

Perverted Sex Story, Real Life Version

In the movies and the stories and the fantasies, if you order up a stranger off the internet for perverted sex, and meet for perverted sex, then the story is about perverted sex. Predictably, and sometimes boringly, so.

What I love about sex blogging is that down here on earth in real life, sometimes other stuff happens too, which makes for a more varied and interesting narrative.

For instance, when Bitchy Jones whistled up a submissive feller off the internet so she could do mean stuff to him, there was indeed some perverted sex, but not without a hitch you’ll never see in a dirty movie:

Just before Jack was due to arrive one of my next door neighbours came and told me they had seen my cat limping in the street. I went out to look for cat but there was no sign. I called Pan in a panic. I told him to turn around and come home so he could care for cat. It started to rain. I was standing in the street looking for the cat when Jack arrived.

Jack was all, ‘Hey are you standing in the street waiting for me?‘ And also all, ‘Hey, here I am. I have arrived for perverted sex.‘

And I was all, ‘No. Perverted sex is canceled. We must find lost injured cat ZOMGZ!‘

We found the cat. (Sorry if that stressed you — I probably should have warned at the top for mild cat peril.) I called Pan and told him I thought the cat would be okay until morning and that he should not come home after all.

Then Jack cooked. I kissed him quite a lot — endangering cooking. We did some painful things too. (Painful for him.) Some naked things. (Naked for him.) Some kneeling things. (Kneeling… (oh, get with it.))

I don’t know if his tongue stud felt so very different on my cunt — but on my nipples it was incredible. Bliss of death.

I love it. “Perverted sex is canceled!”

Definitely About The Sex

I suppose it’s possible that after almost five solid years of sex blogging, I tilt too much toward novelty and shock in selecting new material to blog about. Not that sex ever gets boring, but the blogging fingers can get jaded. Whatever the topic, didn’t I already write a post about that? Or three of ’em?

For whatever reason, I’m definitely still finding novelty in the transsexual porn from TS Seduction. Old fashioned “tranny porn” (conceived and presented as a freak show, with transsexuals as the freaks) is hardly novel, but it was always presented with the emphasis on “ZOMG, freaks having sex!” and never a care in the world paid to whether the sex was hot sex.

Of course we expect (and get) better from a Kink.com franchise. We see models like this, and we want to see some sex:

Of course, without some advance warning we wouldn’t necessarily expect to see those two sucking each other’s dicks, but when it happens, at least it looks like they mean it. And if that’s not sex as Bill Clinton would define it, surely this is:

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A Spammer’s View Of Porn Stars

As you all know, I filter the comments aggressively. Anybody with a blog knows about automated comment spammers who drop various text nuggets designed to pass as real comments.

I thought this one was worth pulling out and sharing, because it appears to be human-written rather than purely machine generated (which is to say, it isn’t just random keywords slung together), and because its narrative is classic old-school bitch-slut-whore porn marketing, the sort of thing this sex blog exists in reaction against:

When it comes to porn bitches with big tits getting their cunts and asses stretched and stuffed by huge dicks and getting their faces and jugs covered by hot spunk, Ava Devine has almost no equal. A regular on [url deleted] and [url deleted], Ava is one cock loving, cum loving, fuck loving slut. Whether she’s getting double penetrated or just getting drilled by massive meat, I swear this girl’s pussy has seen more action in the dirt and taken more of a pounding than a U.S. Marine. What a whore. I really think that she, along with wonderfully like-minded souls Carmella Bing and Shyla Stylez, are among the leaders of the pack when it comes to no-frills, low glamour, raw, hardcore porn. Ava Devine loves fucking and really doesn’t give a fuck what people think. This bitch should be a hero. See the action for yourself at [url deleted].

I cannot deny that Ava is sexy, but whence the leap from that to bitch, slut, and whore? I always wonder what these guys are thinking. Is this how they really feel about porn stars? Or is it merely how they think their intended audience feels?

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• Dancing Girl

Marketing Blogs That Don’t Suck

A while back I got a very nice email from the “E-Marketing Manager” for Liberator.com (the folks who make those wedge-shaped sex pillows and a fair few other nifty looking items.) The email went like this:

Bacchus,

We at Liberator.com are doing our best to provide our readers with more content, and a better connection to our product. We are beta testing a blog currently. I came across you amazing blog while doing some research, and wanted your input. You seem to have a great community of bloggers linking to each other. How would I get my blog in with all of the other wonderful sites? I look forward to speaking with you, and wish you all the best in the development and growth of your site.

It’s a big question on a hard subject with no easy answers. None that I have, anyway. But opinions, those I am not short of. So I wrote back an email that went pretty much like this:

I’ll have to be honest with you, you’ve got a tough row to hoe. Starting up a marketing blog and making it human and interesting enough to get natural and organic (and free) links from the blog community is really, really hard. Indeed, I’d say it’s next to impossible. I’ve seen dozens of attempts in the five years I’ve been sex blogging, and most of them have been horrid…and doomed.

I’ve got a lot of info for you on the problems and pitfalls, rather less so on how to make it work. Because it’s an interesting question, I’m going to go into it in some detail. You get what amounts to free consulting work from me. In return, I get a blog post out of it. Fair?

Let’s start with the pitfalls. First of all, you’re just getting started at a time when most bloggers (and especially, most bloggers on sexual themes, who blog in an industry awash with advertising dollars) have become acutely aware that so-called “traffic of good intent” has enormous economic value. Your letter suggests that you are starting a blog in the hope of getting some of that valuable traffic for free. Nobody blames you for hoping, but nobody’s going to feel particularly inclined to just give away valuable traffic that — because you’re in the business of selling things for fairly big chunks of change — you might reasonably be expected to purchase.

As an added complication, some bloggers have powerful aversions to participating in the advertising market that circles and stalks their traffic of good intent. Reasons differ, but they usually add up to some sort of profit-averse “blogging should be unsullied by filthy lucre” anti-capitalist vision of what their blog is for. These people won’t refuse to link to you because they want value for their traffic; they’ll refuse to link to you because they don’t want to help you make a profit. So they tend to be a tougher nut to crack even than the bloggers who have banner space for sale.

Second, linking to marketing blogs is hard, because marketing blogs tend to suck. They suck for various reasons, often recombined uncreatively in newly horrifying ways. For example, they can suck because the authors usually are, first and foremost, marketers who haven’t yet gotten on the Clue Train. If the marketing blog is a one-way broadcast, talking to the “customers” instead of talking with the readers, it will suck. More to the point, it will be boring, and nobody will link to it or read it.

Or, marketing blogs can suck because they don’t participate in the blogging community. The vast majority of marketing blogs don’t link to other blogs. Or, if they do, they limit themselves to carefully-negotiated link exchanges. They almost never link to competitors, the leading blogs in the industry, or any of the other resources likely to be of interest to potential customers. A good blog functions almost like a mini-portal, linking generously outward so that readers come to rely on the page as a place to start surfing. “I’ll start there, and if there is no new post, I’ll find something in the links to read while I finish my sandwich.”

Or, and this is common, they can suck because they only talk about one thing (the product). Unless you’ve got a product with a huge and passionate community, your one-note one-product blog will be boring as hell.

Worse yet, the poor marketing sod (who is often, in these days of small business, also the owner / proprietor) will run out of interesting things to say about the product. Which quickly leads to the next knell of doom for any blog: lack of frequent and regular posts. I would guess that, as a rule, a reader who visits a blog on three different days without finding a new post is a reader you’ll never see again. Very few marketing blogs can meet that hurdle.

So that’s a big kettle of wet blankets. Now that I’ve spoiled your fun, what is to be done about it?

1) Hire a blogger. Seriously. Blogging is not as easy as it looks. If the person writing your marketing blog does not already have a successful blog that’s been up and attracting consistent traffic for at least two years, get a different person. Pay them, with real and actual money. Do this right and they will be a profit center, not a cost center. The world is full of starving bloggers who would much prefer to blog for a living than to do whatever it is they do for a day job. You can find somebody who works cheap. Underemployed sex writers are not hard to find. Most of them even have blogs you can check out first.

2) Buy blog links. If a blogger has an advertising offer, try it out. Don’t track this traffic for sales or conversions, that’s not why you’re buying it. Just measure the percentage of the traffic that bookmarks your blog. If the percentage is low, improve your blog. If it doesn’t go up, buy better traffic. As they say on Making Light, iterate.

3) Flatter and Bribe. Where you don’t buy, try the heady combination of flattery and bribery. You can sometimes bribe your way into a link using nothing but sincere flattery plus traffic. Find a new but stylish sex blogger, quote and say something nice about one of their posts, and give them a permanent link in your blogroll. Often this is all it takes to get another good incoming link. But you have to mean it. People despise insincere flattery from marketers. And yes, it’s obvious when it happens.

(Er, you do have a blogroll, yes? No? BZZZT. Game over, return to the beginning and start over.)

4) Send Loot. When flattery and traffic are not enough, go with your strength: loot. You sell loot by the box car load, so use what you know. Send people samples of the stuff you sell. You do sell something people want, right? And it’s expensive, right? (But, not so expensive for you, because you bought it wholesale.) So send out some loot! (Email first to ask about safely discreet delivery addresses.) When the loot from you arrives in a discreet box via UPS, that will impress a lot of bloggers. If it’s good loot, it will impress them favorably. (If your loot sucks, it means your business is doomed, so we’ll assume it doesn’t suck.) Ninety percent of the time, they’ll feel compelled to mention you and your loot on their blog. Some of those mentions will be intensely favorable, because you’ve just made a new friend. You just got a nice link for a wholesale-priced one-time cost. However, beware: you can’t afford to even hint that you expect or demand a link or a writeup in return for the stuff. Review stuff doesn’t work like that. You cast it forth, like bread upon the waters, and if you’ve picked your targets carefully, they’ll be so thrilled they will not be able to wait to write about your product.

5) Blog Strongly, Market Subtly. Forget everything you ever learned about old-school hard-sell print marketing. Build a blog first. Sneak the marketing in later. Be subtle. No, much more subtle than that. Imagine a first time reader being asked about your blog. “What is it about?” If they answer “that foam wedge sex furniture” you’re screwed. You were too focused, you will be too boring for the long haul. Any other answer is acceptable; something like “all kinds of neat sexy stuff, it’s hard to say exactly” is ideal. “All kinds of neat sexy stuff, I think it’s by the folks who make those Liberator sex pillows, but it’s not just about that” you have scored two touchdowns and you may schedule a righteous celebration with strippers and vodka and free popcorn for everybody on your team.

6) Participate In The Community. Finally, don’t forget to be part of the blogging community that you want traffic from. I’ve mentioned that you have to have a blogroll. (Believe it or not, a huge percentage of marketing blogs skip this step, and then wonder why they never get any links. Most links come with at least the hope of reciprocation; if that hope is lost, the links don’t come.) Blogroll: have it, use it. Don’t just blog about your product; do what bloggers do, which is read other blogs and quote (with links and approving commentary) the best bits. That’s also an easy way to jack up the quality of your own blog, so where is the downside?

It was my intention at this point in the email to apologize for not providing you with a few good examples of how to do an adult marketing blog. I was going to explain that I didn’t know of any good examples, and then append a short list of “the best of the bad examples” — a few marketing blogs that don’t suck, and that are getting it almost, but not quite perfectly, right. However, in looking over my examples, I discovered that one of them had graduated (by improving its content-to-marketing-copy ratio) into a genuine “good example” worth linking to for its sex blog content alone. (So I added my link, and then finished this email.)

Best of luck with your blog —

Bacchus from ErosBlog

Good Example:

Good Vibes Blog by the Good Vibrations people. If they can keep it up, they’ve got the formula nailed. (The link to me: bonus points.)

Getting There:

The Blowfish Blog by the Blowfish people. Some really excellent blogging, but the “and here’s the product we are selling” posts are a little bit too frequent and mundane for my taste. Worse, they have at the time of this writing no blogroll to speak of, so they are still missing the whole participate-in-the-community thing.

Tony Comstock’s Blog by Tony from Comstock Films. Tony has nailed the community part, but the marketing posts to me feel too “recycled press release / film brochure”. Tony (with great justice!) is excited about his excellent product, but PR text needs a better wash-and-tumble before it makes a good blog post. I know he’s not in the highest-margin business, but he ought to consider watching an old Star Trek marathon for a few hours, practice saying “Captain, I’m a film-maker, not a blogger!” a few times in a Scottish accent, and then biting the bullet and hiring a blogger.

(Full disclosure: In the past or currently, I’ve had some sort of advertising or affiliate relationships with the companies and people behind each of these three examples. Sometimes they pay me for ads or traffic, but they haven’t paid me for these opinions, which are my own.)

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Agonizing Pleasure

I think this may be the best “first line of a sex blog post” I’ve ever seen:

“It had about it some of the agonizing pleasure of sodomy.”

OMG, How Tacky!

I know, I know, calling Yahoo tacky is like calling the sky blue. And my point is?

But anyway. Frank from OMG Blog writes with news that Yahoo! has ripped him off:

In case you were wondering: No, I have not partnered with Yahoo! to create yet another derivative celebrity gossip rag. They are just flagrantly copying !! omg blog !! in more ways than they should.

!! omg blog !! has been around with its current graphic design since July, 2003. For my newer readers, that was back before Yahoo! even knew what a blog was and when Pink is the New Blog was white and lavender.

Since then, our readership has grown to the point that it would be impossible for the folks at Yahoo! not to have visited !! omg blog !! at least once (if not daily).

Content-wise, I can’t claim the sole right to post photos of Paris Hilton pumping gas (especially in light of my strict no-Hilton-content-ever policy), but I do take special offense at the direct thievery of my blog’s name, punctuation, and color scheme.

Of course blatant imitation is rife in the sex blog world — I can’t tell you how many Erosblog imitators have come and gone, but it’s more than a handful — but we do expect better from major media properties that employ designers and creative people out the wazoo. I doubt Frank can do much about this except name and shame — as he acknowledges, there aren’t really any core intellectual property rights being infringed on here — but some naming and shaming does indeed seem appropriate.

Also, maybe some booing?

The New “Related” Links

Pardons for the purely administrative prattle with no sex, but what do folks think of the new “Similar Sex Blogging” links appearing after certain posts? I’m doing them with a WordPress plug-in called Terong’s Related Posts, which makes it quick and easy to add links to posts from the archives. I saw it being done by some of the blogs in my blogroll and thought it was a neat idea — a sort of low-impact way to entice people back into the ever-growing and mostly-unread archives.

To cure the “no sex” boredom of this post, I’ll use the plugin to link to a few older favorites of mine.

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Shoe Fetish!

There’s nothing sexy about burglary or stealing stuff from schoolgirls, of course, which makes this news story marginal material for a sex blog. But I’m sharing it with you because it demonstrates the sometimes awful power of a strong and compelling fetish:

Police: Man stole 1,500 pairs of shoes

Police seized more than 1,500 pairs of girls’ shoes from the home and storage unit of a man arrested for breaking into a high school, police said Tuesday. “He liked to smell them,” said Lt. William H. Graham.

Police said the recovered shoes may be related to the burglaries of three Waukesha public high schools and a middle school over the past two years.

The 27-year-old Kenosha man, who was not identified because had yet to be formally charged, worked for a cable company and collected keys to the schools as he responded to calls, Graham said. The same man was convicted in 2005 for stealing shoes from Kenosha Tremper High School.

Police arrested him after a security video showed him entering North High School on May 20 and leaving with some items, authorities said.

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Oh, No, Not The Toothbrush!

Before we move on from hurting people (which is, after all, a frequent but not essential part of sex in this age of mainstreamed kink, and thus is theoretically only a peripheral topic on a sex blog) I wanted to share Mistress Matisse’s description of one of the hurty things “for pink bits” she keeps in her (ahem) little pink box:

A toothbrush. Toothbrushes made great abrasion-play toys. You may think, oh, a toothbrush, that doesn’t hurt. Hah. Take that thing and start scrubbing your clit, or the corona of your cock. Keep going. No, don’t stop. Oh, starting to get uncomfortable now, are we, smarty-pants? Too bad. We’re not stopping. Scrub, scrub, scrub. You know, you’d pay big money to get this done to you at a fancy spa, you should be thankful to me. Look how red and sensitive you’re getting! Have I convinced you to fear the toothbrush? Good.

After Hours At The Wet Spot

By all accounts, Seattle’s lucky to have the The Wet Spot, a sex-positive community center that hosts all manner of adult events and classes. But you know, somebody has got to have the keys, and use of the facilities after hours. That somebody, it turns out, is Executive Director Allena Gabosh, who writes on her blog about

…a great evening a few weeks ago with my boy, alex. He’s such a “cat”. Sometimes he’s in the mood, sometimes he’s not. This time he was. His masochist came out to play. At my request he wore sexy disposable clothing and after I tied him up over a spanking bench, I slowly cut off his clothes and bit, licked, spanked and caned each body part that I exposed. And that was just his warm up.

Later I had him on the bondage bed (we were at The Wet Spot after hours.) After beating his ass with his least favorite toy, I turned him over and played with his cock, wrapping it in his favorite leather cock ring and attaching it to my tens unit. Every time I turned up the tens unit he jumped and I sucked and kissed his cock. Pretty soon his pain and pleasure responses became all jumbled up. :) This got me super horny, so I climbed on top of him and he gave me a great orgasm while I continued to torture his penis.

Then the Grand Finale! Two needles through his nipples. Then the best part, cuddling and making him feel good again (he doesn’t like needles).

Hmmm. That was a fun night.

Via the Electrosex Blog.

Google Hates Sex Blogs Now

If you’re one of the many people who used to find ErosBlog by typing “sex blog” into Google, here’s some information on why it doesn’t work so well now. This has actually been going on for a couple of weeks, but it’s been getting better lately; this morning for the first time ErosBlog is actually back on the first page for that search, albeit low (we used to be number one).

Crapping All Over Beauty, Redux

Some time ago I wrote a post called Crapping All Over Beauty in which I discussed the odd phenomenon of guys who run around the internet finding fault with every image of naked beauty. At that time I wrote:

What I’ve learned running a sex blog is that there are a whole host of guys whose only mode of discourse about bodily appearance is to make a negative comment. I think perhaps it originates in adolescent one-upsmanship; one guy says “Sally’s hot, I’d like to do her” and the other guys all say “No, man, she’s a pig, she’s got a huge ass” as a way of belittling the first guy. However it started, the result is a fairly large class of guys whose reflex response whenever they see an erotic picture is to say something mean and ugly about the body depicted.

It’s clearly an act of emotional aggression, some sort of attempt to establish superiority by expressing contempt for that which other people consider beautiful. An extreme form of this (which I’ve seen in various places on the internet) is the “It’s a tranny” game. The way the “game” is played is to post a picture of an unknown but pretty woman, and then wait until other men admit that the woman shown is lustworthy. Then the trap springs, as the original poster (or others) assert “It’s a tranny!” It doesn’t have to be true; the point is merely to score points by belittling another man’s opinions about sexual attractiveness.

I’m posting today to point at a concrete example of this “game” that showed up (or tried to) right here in the Erosblog comments. Remember the odd panties-down-but-we-have-beer-cups photo from yesterday? The girls are reasonably cute, but that notwithstanding, we got this attempted comment:

I dont think theyre women… arent you wondering what theyre holding in those cups?

No, dude. Are you? Interesting. Maybe you’re imagining what you wish were in there?

Anyway, crapping attempt: rejected.

Kama Sutra

No busy or lazy sex blogger ever went wrong publishing Kama Sutra illustrations:

Violet Blue On Sex Blogging

From time to time people have asked me my opinion on the question of what makes a good sex blog. I’ve spent some time toying with the question, and I’d like to write a detailed post sharing my opinions, but it’s a big job. It’s on the to-do list, but don’t hold your breath while waiting for it.

In the meanwhile, however, Violet Blue has written and posted what she describes as her own personal blogging style guide. It’s got lots of good stuff in it that would be of value to any blogger on any topic. However, Violet being Violet, it’s also got sex blogging tips at the end, disguised as ethical notes. The two money paragraphs:

My ethics about readers: Never insult the reader, call them a freak for liking anything you think is strange, or suggest the reader is not smart. Never judge anyone’s sexual preferences or orientation. Let people think things are weird all by themselves — don’t assume the reader will agree with your perceptions about what’s right and wrong in any context. When I run Fleshbot, my line is this with the writers: no one cares if you think trannies are freaky or fat chicks are gross; the reader who’s into it (and there’s a lot more than you think) is a reader just like anyone else. If you have something to prove about your sexual orientation, this isn’t the place to make your point. If it makes you uncomfortable, or you’re more worried about what people will think of you for posting it than the fun things you can say about it, don’t post it — give it to me!

My ethics about content: Avoid racist and sexist content. If it’s “interracial” but really hot, say something about how lame the titles are or how stupid racial sexual stereotypes are, but how nasty and hot the sex is. I link to christian anti-porn sites when I slap them, hard, and want them to see who is sending them traffic. No one is ever ‘stupid’ or ‘sick’ for liking sex, no matter what kind. I make fun of stereotypes and pastiches; I won’t endorse a “how to pick up chicks” book, but *will* make fun of it. I’m all about irony (especially of sexual stereotypes), making smart commentary, finding hot things to wank to and strange things for people to look at.

The Mathematics Of Seduction

I think this cartoon by Hugh MacLeod at Gaping Void is one of those funny-because-true kinda things. It puts me firmly in mind of the awkward approaches to seduction that certain smart-but-foolish young men attempt, having as yet no clue about better approaches, nor yet the skills to put better approaches into action:

On a more serious note, Hugh gets hatemail, like most bloggers sometimes do. The latest one called him “too obscure for general consumption”, to which he responded:

I think worrying about what interests you, what stirs your passion, is a far more effective recipe for success than worrying about “general consumption”.

I have to agree. Blogging is unsustainable if you approach every post worrying about what people will think, or if you spend too much time fussing over your writing or your background research or your whatever. Do you think I’m proud of writing a line like “I think this cartoon…is one of those funny-but-true kinda things”? Hell no, how inarticulate is that? But it was fast, it introduced the cartoon and got me to the next sentence where I explained my reaction to the cartoon, and more to the point, it enabled my blogging passion, which is hooking y’all up with other people’s interesting contributions to the cultural conversation about sex.

Hugh’s right, then. By worrying about what interests me, and be damned to the critics, I’m still here after four good long years. In that time I’ve linked to, and later sadly delinked for reasons of moribundity, dozens of sex blogs that were “better” than mine — better written by my own lights, more carefully crafted, better focused, and above all, slicker; which is to say, produced with an eye toward “general consumption”. Produced, that is, for a few weeks or months, and then dropped, establishing with each demise a prima facie case for lack of passion.

Here’s to passion!

Bill Versus The Penguin

ErosBlog, being a sex blog and not a tech blog, is studiously neutral in the technology advocacy wars. But I’m gonna post this cartoon anyway, because I think it’s funny:

Big Fake Boobs

If it’s possible to talk about big fake boobs without condemning anybody’s choices or tastes, I’ll kick off by admitting that I do not like them, Sam I am. I’ve said this before here on my humble little sex blog.

It’s rather a strong preference. I don’t like the way they look in naked pictures, I don’t like the way they sometimes jut out in bad directions and look like lost sports equipment buried under overtaxed skin, and I imagine I wouldn’t like the way they feel, though I reserve the right to change my mind if I ever actually get my hands on any (not very likely, given predictable objections The Nymph might have). They are, simply put, not to my taste.

But more than that, I don’t like the opportunity cost they represent. Wrapped around every fake boob is the residual flesh of — it seemeth to me — a mutilated boob, one that I, or somebody else, might have liked, but will never get to see.

Of course, it’s important to remember: they weren’t, they aren’t, my boobs. Nothing “lost” that I had any say about, none of my business, et cetera. One man’s mutilation is another woman’s joyful body modification, and of course it’s her body. Body modification, however extreme, is clearly well within the self-ownership rights of every free being, no matter how much it may squick me. And so forth.

None of which prevents me from feeling, in a visceral way, bewildered every time I see them. “What was she thinking?” I wonder. “How could she?” “Why, o great but diminished gods of Olympus, why?”

Pretty Dumb Things to the rescue! Chelsea Girl says why:

I am for myself a fan of the big breasts. However, that preference is merely for my own; I find other women’s breasts beautiful in all sizes and shapes. I have found myself equally attracted to women who burgeoned with double-scooped sundaes of breasts and to whose who were flat as a grey-glass sea. I am an equal-opportunity bisexual when it comes to other women’s breasts. But for myself, I’ve always liked myself best as a big-breasted chick.

Always. Even when I was somewhere in between an A and a B cup, the size that my genetics gave me. My breasts grew suddenly, one night when I was twelve. It felt as if one day I had those telltale puffy areolas of nascent pubescence and the next morning I had a gently cupped palm full of breast. Which would have been fine, except that in addition to growing my fresh spanky shiny boobs, I had also grown blighted bright red stretch marks that emanated out from my mallowmar areolas like ugly stringy weedy flowers.

That night when I was twelve and finally grew my boobs, when I woke that morning to find them, like stingy treats from a cranky titfairy, I felt severely cheated. From having grown up with fresh-air loving, naked-in-the-rain-dancing hippie parents and grown up around my mother’s brothers and their 60s and 70s-era Playboy and Penthouse magazines, I knew full fucking well what boobs were supposed to look like, and I knew these striped things on my chest weren’t it.

Moreover, I had, from the time I was very young, known that great big American breasts were my birthright. When I played grown up with my little friends, and we all shoved socks into our tanktops or bathing suits, I always stuck three or four pairs against each flat brown nipple, stretching my top out to tent-strained excess, and then I would stand back and admire my body. Growing up, I thought Raquel Welch, Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield owned the body that I myself would grow to inhabit.

My own breasts, the ones my DNA gave me, were a mystifying disappointment.

Of course she’s just getting going when I stop quoting, there’s much more. Enlightening and useful, even if, at the end of the day, we must fall back upon the ancient wisdom: de gustibus non disputandem.

Snap-N-Point Blowjobs

In the tired stereotype of the semi-satisfying suburban sex life, blowjobs often feature as a “special” activity if at all — birthday sex, or as a sexual “reward” for being a well-trained man, as in this old joke. As is obvious to any sex blog reader, that old stereotype is getting less and less apt these days, but it still rings true for a vast swathe of American manhood.

But not, it must be said, at Kaya’s house:

He likes to be serviced sexually while He’s busy doing something else. I suppose that could be labelled a fetish of sorts. He likes to have me working hard to suck His cock while He’s distracting Himself with… well, with anything. A book, the tv, the computer. It’s a challenge for my dick-sucking abilities to keep Him hard when He’s otherwise occupied. When He starts going soft I know I’m beginning to lack in effort. That’s about when He’ll start chastising me too. If it happens too often, if I’m really lacking in effort, He will get mad.

I know alot of people, women, would find that to be disrespectful or they’d flat out refuse to do it. I’ve read it, I’ve heard it. They want or need that attention, they’d see His focusing on something else as an insult of some sort. And I’ve experienced that too. I feel that at times and I get irritated and frustrated and have let it become personal. I’ve gone down the road of “He doesn’t like me, He doesn’t want me, I could be any whore down here, I’m not attractive to Him, blah blah blah.” Been there. But it’s not about that. Not really.

He is getting off on the humiliation that it causes me, of course. And it *is* humiliating. Mostly though, He’s getting off on the power and control. It’s a huge power trip for Him. He gets off on the effort I put into it. I’m *working* to please Him while He’s working to ignore it. While He lies/sits there, cool as a cucumber and seemingly uninterested, I’m sweating, I’m grunting, I’m generally in some degree of discomfort or pain and all I am getting out of it is a ‘good girl’ at the end. And I’ll only hear that if I’ve put enough effort into it to have impressed Him.

It’s a victory for me if I can make it good enough and catch His interest enough, that He stops everything else that He’s doing and focuses on me. Focuses on me in a good way that is, not because I’ve messed things up somehow. I was victorious on this night though.

The computer is just one of the things that He will be busy doing when He snaps and points at His crotch. The ol’ snap-n-point. Snap and point and I am on my knees searching for His cock. What a spoiled man He is.

Happy Birthday, Dear Sex Blog

Wow, ErosBlog turned four today. First post: October 3, 2002.

It’s been a good four years — and it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long.

Electric Sex Blogging

So when I saw Susie Bright’s essay on electric sex (in which she responds to the question “Have you ever experienced electricity during sex?”) my first thought was that she was talking about, you know, electrosex: cattle prods, electric zapper paddles, violet wands, fancy tech-wet-dream electrostim gear, that sort of thing. Well, she wasn’t — although her discourse on sexual electricity is, as always, worth your time.

But there is, it turns out, a blog that is about all the electric sex, the kind with actual electrons and visible sparks and twitching and whatnot. It’s the Electrosex Blog — make sure you’re well grounded before reading!

Sex Blog Smearjob

Anybody in the blogging world is by now familiar with the tired old newspaper column written by a journalist who’s decided it’s time to say “I don’t get blogging, blogs are dull / stupid / inane / written by geeks.” Well, now a British journalist has trotted out that weary formula and plugged in “sex blog” instead of “blog”, writing Sex Blogs: Why Bother? A few sample paragraphs:

I can always just go and pick another of the thousands upon thousands of sex blogs that seem to be girding their loins and penetrating the blogosphere; because let’s face it, they all read the same. It’s all “tensed muscles” this and “moist undercarriage” that: graphic details of the precise curl of some anonyknobber’s merkin and five hundred variants on the concept of “sweaty”.

…

Other personal bloggers choose to write about tube trains and cats and cheese sandwiches; why shouldn’t you write about your own – and I apologise for this in advance – rides, pussies and yes, the contents of your very own lunchbox? Especially, and this must be said, especially when, for a bunch of geeks, you all seem to have rather unbounded sexual proclivities.

Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps I just can’t stand to read because I’m jealous. I’m jealous that a growing community of bloggers want to stand on a table, face the world and shout “Look at me! I’ve got a stiffy!”. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say in return, except perhaps “Well, good for you.”

Sometimes I’m tempted to start up my own anti-sex-blog-blog. None of these glistening thighs and unbelievable multiple orgasms that go on for hours, pits that smell like flowers and sex that never goes wrong – it’ll be called “Fanny-Farts and the Jackhammer Rhythm” – and be a group blog full of tales of bloated post-takeaway sex, grumpy come-on-we’re-supposed-to-be-at-my-mum’s-by-now sex, and sex that you regret as soon as the first button is shucked but do it anyway.

Because what the world needs is more bad sex, described by people whose sexual proclivities are safely and boringly “bounded”. Capital idea!

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.

Our First Fight

Wish I could tell you it was a hot mashup of pleasure and pain, but it wasn’t. Just a stupid fight between J and I, helped along by alot of bad information.

J got back from a long business trip on Monday…..a very long trip. So we were both eager to get together and have some fun. He’s barely in the door of my place before his hands are caressing me…..stroking my flanks and gently tugging my t-shirt out of my shorts.

After he does that, his hands beeline for my breasts…..My nips are really sensitive, and he loves to tease me with nipple play. And he’s really good at it, his hands are marvelous. I don’t remember how we got there, but we got to my bed and he pulled up my shirt and started nibbling my nips….alternating between them and using his hands to keep the other nipple happy too. And I came from J’s breast play, a nice uncommon surprise.

Clothes came off, and I straddled J, teasing him with tongue and cunt, spreading my wetness over his cock….then I shifted to rub my clit against his penis and had another orgasm. Not a big one but still alot of fun.

After some more teasing J finally takes me the way I like it best, slow and teasing, and alternating deep and shallow thrusts. It doesn’t take much of that and I’m coming again, a slow motion build and release just before he comes too. He looks happy, I’m sure happy…..and everything seems great for a few minutes.

But then when some blood starts returning to J’s bigger head, he starts complaining that I didn’t “come properly.” I finally figured out that what he meant is that I didn’t have a huge, earth-shaking, When Harry Met Sally-type production. Um, no…..I don’t always have those, mostly because I can’t create them and I don’t always want to try to. Sometimes they happen and sometimes they don’t even though they might be expected to. But I come easily and usually come often, and that keeps me a happy girl.

So I start trying to explain to J that when I have sex I’m all about the coming but I can do that different ways. And he starts saying stuff like the only real orgasm is the Big-O kind, and that other stuff is kind of like faking it. Well, that made me mad, and I guess some of the things I said got him mad too….maybe he thought I was saying he’s less experienced when all I was trying to say is that I’m a woman who knows my body and loves to come, and how can he not like that?

He left and we haven’t talked since then. I haven’t told him about being a sex blogger yet, mostly because I’m not very good at it and a good way to start that talk hasn’t come up. But this might be a good way, because I don’t think I can convince him myself and I know I’m not the only girl out there wired this way. Sisters, can you help me out here?

Sexual Bargaining

One thing I like about sex blogs is the window it offers into the sexual lives of real people. In particular, we sometimes hear anecdotes of the sexaul bargains and accomodations that people make. Sexual negotiation, chore negotiation, and marital conflict resolution never works like this in the movies, but in the real world anything is possible:

Yesterday I had a party to go to and I needed to bring some things. I worked the night before and realized I still needed to go to the store right when I woke up, but was still WAY too tired to get up and go. I asked Vincent to go for me, but he said no. So, being the smart woman I am, I made him a deal – I’d give him 5 on-demand blow jobs if he went to the store for me. Being a typical man, he accepted the deal (even made me shake on it, his own wife!)

So, naturally, before I left for the party, I only had 4 left to give.

Riding The Old Pitchfork

I differ from the usual run of sex bloggers in that I’m not as urban as seems to be the norm. My roots are rural, and I don’t freak out when the only coffee in the county is called “coffee” and costs less than a buck.

So I can tell you with some authority that there remain, in this vast country of ours, a fair few young men whose entire ambition is to get some land, plant it, find a good farm wife, and settle down to a life of endless unremunerative hard labor. The good farm wife, as you can imagine, is a very important factor in this bucolic vision of paradise.

Thus I can well imagine the reaction of some young rural swain as he spies this Venus arising from the stock-watering tank:

And the reaction is this: “Yup, she’ll do.”

Hey, at least he knows she knows how to ride a pitchfork.

Picture is from Usenet.

Sex Blogger At Work

Here we see a sex blog writer (a mature male specimen of Bloggis Sexualis) hard at work in his natural habitat:

No, ladies and gentlemen, that’s not me — it came to me as a circulating email funny. I have only two more words to say:

WAFFLE BUTT!

Hair Fetish

This week’s Pillowbook has a few words about a man with a hair fetish. Including a variant hair sex practice that may surprise even you, the sex blog readers who have seen it all:

let me briefly share with you an observation on the kinkiest hair sex i’ve had. so far.

it’s not really about pubic hair, but i still think it’s worth mentioning.

i had this guy once (well, quite a few times, actually), who was so besotted with my hair (head hair) that he wanted me to get on all fours over him and use it to stroke him to full erection, every single time we fucked. all over his body i’d stroke him, like he was a billiard table and i was sweeping him prior to a game or something. i would have to sweep him like that for however long it took for his cock to be standing fully to attention. which was usually about ten seconds, but could go on for a lot longer, depending on whether or not he wanted me to bypass penetration altogether and hair-sweep him to orgasm, as he sometimes did. then he’d shoot his load into my hair, and i’d have to go to sleep with a wet spot next to my cheek…

but that’s not the kinky part. that’s just normal.

you and your partner probly did that very thing last night.

no, the kinky part was when he wanted me to peel back his foreskin, take a single strand of living, still-attached hair, wrap it around his glans in a spiral from the base, roll the foreskin back over it, and then – ever so gently so that the hair didn’t break – pull away from him, dragging the hair out from beneath his foreskin like a rock climber’s line playing out of his ropebag.

the thing was, my hair is so fine that sometimes it *would* break, and then things would turn ugly.

let’s not go there.

but, if it didn’t break, he would end up so aroused that, when i tried to then mount him for penetration, he’d usually have come in my hand while i was still trying to place him against my slit.

we did that so often that my head hair was well and truly fetishised. i’d be sitting in a sidewalk cafe with him and the wind would riffle my fringe onto my face, and, when i went to brush it away with my hand, i could tell that he was boning up beneath his latte.

Toasted Buns

With a title like “Toasted Buns” on a sex blog, you’d expect a spanking picture. But you’d be wrong:

There’s the sort of woman who’s no fun to go camping with (“Honeeee, I need to wash my hair…”) and then then there’s the sort who is.

Blogging For A Living And The Global Microbrand

99% Sex-Free Post:

In my recent interview at Sunni’s Salon, I had this to say about the merits of sex blogging instead of having a job:

The job culture is as big a threat to human freedom as anything governments ever dreamed up. How can you be free and happy when you spend most of your waking hours in a place dictated by someone else, pursuing their priorities rather than your own, and living by their petty rules? With no time or energy to pursue your own priorities by the time you get home after a long unpaid commute? I lived that life for years, until I finally realized that I had to control my own working conditions to be truly free. Nobody but me deciding whether to set my alarm clock, or when to set it for; nobody but me deciding what my project will be on a given day, or whether I’ll choose to take that day off. Nobody but me deciding whether my head cold is bad enough I should just go back to bed.

About three days out of five, I take naps in the afternoon now. Why? Because I get sleepy. A twenty-minute snooze in the mid-afternoon cuts two hours off the amount of sleep I need at night. Right there, my life got seven percent longer by escaping the job culture.

I was therefore intrigued to discover that Hugh from Gaping Void (the blogger and blog famous for those funny cartoons drawn on the backs of business cards) had written something similar (but far more eloquent) in an essay called “The Global Microbrand Rant“:

It seems to me a lot of people of my generation are locked into this high-priced corporate, urban treadmill. Sure, they get paid a lot, but their overheads are also off the scale. The minute they stop tapdancing as fast as they can is the minute they are crushed under the wheels of commerce.

You know what? It’s not sustainable.

However, the Global Microbrand is sustainable. With it you are not beholden to one boss, one company, one customer, one local economy or even one industry. Your brand develops relationships in enough different places to where your permanent address becomes almost irrelavant.
…
Frankly, it beats the hell out of commuting every morning to the corporate glass box in the big city, something I did for many years. Just so I could make enough money to help me forget that I have to commute every morning to the corporate glass box in the big city.

There are thousands of reasons why people write blogs. But it seems to me the biggest reason that drives the bloggers I read the most is, we’re all looking for our own personal global microbrand. That is the prize. That is the ticket off the treadmill. And I don’t think it’s a bad one to aim for.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Your Work Is Not Safe For Sex Or Boobies
• Work Is The Curse Of the Drinking Classes

Another Way To Not Get Linked

I recently got a link exchange email from an interesting-looking sex blog with a lot of interesting posts, somewhat focused on strange sex stories from the news, but worthy overall. And the link exchange request was polite, customized, and well-enough written to avoid getting the dreaded form-letter response. Until I looked at the site’s advertising. That got them this response:

I’ve given some thought to linking your blog, but at this moment I’m going to have to pass. Your blog has some interesting posts, such that I’d probably link if the quality of your blog posts were the only factor to consider.

However, another significant factor is the fact that I’m trying to build a sex-positive site that is respectful of my readers and doesn’t perpetuate sexual myths and misinformation. One way I do this is by making sure I don’t link to folks who heavily promote fraudulent items like penis enlargement products, fake sex phereomones, and the like. Since your site prominantly features ads for these products, I’m reluctant to endorse your site to my readers by linking.

Just in case there’s anybody out there who didn’t get the memo, here it is again: There’s no such thing as a penis enlargement product that works. And there’s no pheremone product on the market that does a damn thing but separate you from your money. Anybody who says different is a liar, a fool, or a crook.

Interview With A Sex Blogger (Me)

Barely slipping in under the wire for Valentine’s Day, Sunni of Sunni and the Conspirators has just published a wide-ranging interview of me at Sunni’s Salon. She calls it:

[A]n appropriate Valentine’s Day interview with Bacchus, the man behind the popular sexblog ErosBlog. Our conversation wanders through sex, blogging, and government interference with sexual pleasures, of course; but we also discuss the myths and realities of sex blogging and making money online, and more.

You’ll also learn why I think politics and sex blogging don’t mix, and why jobs are bad, m’kay?

More Internet Vandals Go Offline

So I notice that Panties Panties Panties has gone offline, saying goodbye thusly:

Thanks to everyone who wrote in expressing concern. Enough emails were received such that some kind of explanation seems necessary. We simply thought it in our best interest to discontinue the blog. We’re each okay; it was just time to euthanize it. Anyway, thanks for reading, commenting, and sticking with us as the blog evolved. See ya, motherfuckers*, perhaps in some other place, in some other guise.

No, motherfuckers, you won’t see me. You may come back, but it will be a cold day in hell before I link to you again. You’ve demonstrated that it’s a waste of time trying to incorporate you into the warp and woof of the world information culture that is the internet.

I’m going to rant a little bit here, because I’m sick and tired and fed up with people who vandalize the web on their way out. This is not really about Bret and Hiromi, they are just the latest offenders in a long line. Plus, it’s been a bad week for this.

You see, when you build a good blog — and Bret and Hiromi had a very good one — people link to you. And those links are valuable. All links are valuable, and should be as permanent as you can make them. They bring order to the web — hell, they’re what makes it a web — and when you take your site offline for no good reason, you smash every one of those links. Not only are you spitting in the face of everyone who ever complimented your contribution by linking to it, you’re also in effect taking a sledgehammer and a torch to your little corner of mankind’s greatest invention, our unsurpassed cathedral of knowledge, culture, and art.

I expect plenty of hatemail on this subject, prating about “it’s their right” etc. And of course that’s true. Everybody has the right to yank their stuff offline for no good reason. Just like everybody has the right to buy books and then burn them. We don’t respect the latter sort of wanton destruction — indeed, we have a special horror of bookburners — so why respect the former?

I also expect people to chime in with all sorts of alleged “good reasons” why folks need to take stuff offline, especially adult stuff. Feel free, but I’m calling “bollocks” in advance. A couple examples to explain why:

1) “They got found out and are being outed.” If so, that can (rarely) be quite tragic, but honey, that ship done sailed.

“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.”

If you put it up on the internet, it’s going to stay there, or come back if it seems to have gone. In addition to the currently-active public archives like the Google cache and the Wayback Machine, there are dozens of entities spidering the web and making private archives for various purposes (commercial research, government intelligence gathering, etc.) All the data in those archives is likely to become public — and be put back up on the web — at some point in the future. Meanwhile, there are a zillion quotes and excerpts of your stuff on every blog that ever linked to you, none of which material is going away. You can’t unring the bell, and you look foolish trying. You worried about shame and embarrassment? The whole point to this post is to try and make you more shamed and embarrassed over your dumb-assed internet vandalism than you could ever hope to be over the content of your blog. I’ll probably fail, but I’m doing my best. I know people will propose all sorts of consequences worse than shame or embarrassment that can motivate trying to hide an adult blog after the fact — the one that actually has my sympathy is the risk of consequences in an unexpected custody dispute — but none of that means a thing against the brutal fact that smashing your blog won’t hide its content or save you from whatever consequences you’re seeking to avoid. “Nor all your tears….”

2) “They got bored / lost interest / wanted to move on.” Fine, so stop blogging. No need to smash the excellent thing you’ve created and pee on the remains while insulting everyone who ever complimented it and while damaging the things they have created. Does it hurt so bad to just leave your archives up and your inbound links unbroken? If you can’t afford it, and that’s unlikely in this era of cheap bandwidth, find somebody willing to mirror your site or host your domain for you. If it’s good, there’ll be no shortage of offers. Hell, even if it’s bad, blogs are such great search engine fodder that a discrete text link in the header or footer saying “Maintained on the web by xyz.com” provides enough traffic to make it an attractive proposition. I’d cheerfully maintain any sex blog I ever liked well enough to link to, on those terms, and I’m not alone. There’s never a legitimate financial reason to destroy a good blog.

I suppose that’s enough of a rant for now. Please, I beg you, when your blogging jones is exhausted, don’t vandalize the internet by destroying your creative work and everything that ever acknowledged the value thereof by building on it. It’s selfish, shortsighted, destructive, rude, and self-centered. You are part of something bigger than yourself, please don’t piddle on it when you’re done with it. Thank you.

Update and Reminder: Despite the ranting tone of my post, I will not accept namecalling or incivility in my comments. One comment deleted already.

So Grab Your Dick And Double Click….

I’ve been seeing these references to some kind of internet funny thing, a musical machinima video of vast hilarity entitled “The Internet Is For Porn”. Bah, ho hum, who has time? And besides, I write a sex blog, I already knew that’s what the internet is for, how do you make funny out of a truism?

Then I saw it:

I can’t stop laughing.

Thanks to the commenters for letting me know the actual song comes from the comedic and theatrical musical Avenue Q.

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A Note For Our New Spammers

It’s nice to get comments on our posts. We all like to hear from a happy audience, and like the funny stories and good information many of you provide.

We do not like our comments section being used to peddle crap. We also do not like comments that seem to be made mostly to get a link to your spammy, non-sex blog on here. Post that stuff on your friend’s blogs.

Your crap will be deleted, and you will be banned from commenting here. If we ever track down any of you joyless lusers, we’ll take our cattle prods, rope, and stinging nettles to you. Only — and we promise — you won’t come. And you will SO not like one bit of it.

Bacchus speaks: Having just logged in to find about fifteen new spams posted subsequent to Aphrodite’s mighty edit-and-delete-fest yesterday, I’ll have to say she’s way too nice about this. (Perhaps it’s the whole Love Goddess thing.) When I endorsed the strappado anti-spam measure proposed by Bondage Blog, it was in large part because Rope Guy found one of those disturbing early-1970s bondage photos where the model looks quite disgruntled. Which ain’t a patch on how “disgruntled” a spammer would look dangling from my meat hook.

The trouble is, ranting here about spam does very little good, because the highest volume and most inappropriate comment spam is crapped out by robots. The robot controllers literally can’t stop by to view their handiwork; there’s far too much of it. They never even know that their spams have been intercepted or deleted, which takes most of the satisfaction out of deleting the stuff.

High-volume automated spammers are what are termed “B2 Bandits” in The Basic Laws Of Human Stupidity — they are “stealing millions to make thousands”, like the meth-heads who wander down the street smashing $600 windshields to collect seventeen cents in sticky coins out of console cupholders.

OK, rant over. The defense against clone armies of evil-doing robots is not to heap deserved calumny on their shadowy overlord controllers; it’s to install trusted defense robots of one’s own, ever vigilant and undismayed by the ceaselessness and pointlessness of their task. It’s an ErosBlog priority, look for it by end of 1Q 2006 (with luck).

Sex Blogazines?

I’ve recently added a new link category tentatively entitled “Sex Blogazines.” I don’t like that neologism, but I can’t think of a better one, just yet. Can you help?

The sites I’m trying to encompass with this title are sites (often but not necessarily in blog format) which aggregate and collect blog postings from other blogs. My canonical example is Viviane’s Sex Carnival, which I hadn’t listed previously due to lack of an appropriate category. I don’t consider these things to be blogs, exactly, because they lack any sort of original writing or commentary. When they add value, they do so by the pure exercise of an editorial function, the way an anthologist (or a person who puts together a mix CD) creates entertainment though the exercise of editorial discretion. The result is a sort of blogging magazine, hence my tentative name.

At their worst, these sites are pure RSS aggregators dumped to HTML — they don’t add much value but they can be handy for folks who don’t use RSS aggregators. A few of these do a good job of selecting and presenting feeds, and I’ll be linking to some of the best over the next few days. (If you’d like to suggest candidates, please email your suggestions; please do not post them in the comments.)

If anyone can think of a more descriptive or more euphoneous two-or-three word name for these blog posting collections, please share your suggestions in the comments. Thanks!

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.”

Crapping All Over Beauty

No, not literally crapping; this isn’t that sort of website.

Over on Figleaf’s Real Adult Sex, Figleaf posted a long entry about folks who come to blogs where there are nekkid pictures, only to leave strongly derisive comments about the nekkid pictures in question. He likened such folks to trolls, and suggested deleting the body-critical comments plus the standard troll cure: ignoring them.

I posted a long comment over there, which this post mostly duplicates, not because I disagree with the prescription (I don’t) but because I don’t think the nasty body-critical comments are really deliberate trolling behavior. A true troll knows he’s a troll; these guys (and they are always guys) are just bringing to the internet their “normal” obnoxious behavior from daily life.

Here at ErosBlog, I’ve always been ruthless about deleting anything that attempts to drag down my attempt at maintaining a body-positive, sex-positive, kink-friendly editorial tone. For example, awhile back I posted some public nude shots of Kirsten Dunst, and attracted a whole host of folks commenting on how ugly her breasts supposedly are. She’s pretty by any reasonable measure, so what’s up with that? I dunno, but the ugly comments I had to delete far outnumbered the ones that remain.

What I’ve learned running a sex blog is that there are a whole host of guys whose only mode of discourse about bodily appearance is to make a negative comment. I think perhaps it originates in adolescent one-upsmanship; one guy says “Sally’s hot, I’d like to do her” and the other guys all say “No, man, she’s a pig, she’s got a huge ass” as a way of belittling the first guy. However it started, the result is a fairly large class of guys whose reflex response whenever they see an erotic picture is to say something mean and ugly about the body depicted.

It’s clearly an act of emotional aggression, some sort of attempt to establish superiority by expressing contempt for that which other people consider beautiful. An extreme form of this (which I’ve seen in various places on the internet) is the “It’s a tranny” game. The way the “game” is played is to post a picture of an unknown but pretty woman, and then wait until other men admit that the woman shown is lustworthy. Then the trap springs, as the original poster (or others) assert “It’s a tranny!” It doesn’t have to be true; the point is merely to score points by belittling another man’s opinions about sexual attractiveness.

I guess the point of all this is to suggest to other bloggers that they not take it quite so personally. If you post your boobs or butt on your blog and some nasty guy makes a rude comment, it’s possible that he doesn’t hate you specifically and didn’t stop by your blog to cause trouble specifically for you. More likely, he’s just a boorish lout who says “fat ass!” by reflex whenever he sees a pretty butt. It’s not aimed at you at all; it’s male posturing aimed at the other men who are admiring your ass.

Sure, delete his comment, just the way you’d evict a stinky drunk who stumbled into your living room from the street. But don’t take the comments so much to heart, any more than you’d worry about the good opinion of the drunk.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Crapping All Over Beauty, Redux

Porn For Your Video iPod

Wow. I just got the new video iPod. Of course I didn’t get it just for viewing porn, but I’ve got a sex blog thing going on here, so I had to try that out.

Unfortunately, the iTunes store doesn’t sell any worthy porn. No worries; like lots of folks, I’ve got a ton of accumulated little porn clips on my hard drive that I’ve downloaded over the years. Lots of it is 320×240 (the dreaded “postage stamp” size) and doesn’t look like much on a computer screen viewed from twenty-four inches away, but on the stunningly vivid iPod screen held a comfortable distance in front of your face, it ought to look real good. So I’ll just bung my video clips into my iTunes library and get busy viewing, right?

Alas, no. There’s a slight flaw in that plan — video formats. The iPod accepts only two formats; video on the PC comes in many different flavors, virtually none of which match what the iPod wants. You want a good explanation for that, talk to a video geek; I don’t pretend to understand it. There are ways to convert, but they don’t sound easy. I Googled the problem and the “best” solution seemed to be to buy expensive conversion software and then expect to wait a long time as each bit of video gets converted properly. Sorry, but I don’t want it that bad.

So how am I gonna get porn for my iPod?

Fortunately, inspiration struck. You’ll have noticed I’m always posting pictures here that I downloaded from the alt.binaries erotica newsgroups on Usenet; the service I use for that is GUBA, a cheap and friendly sort of search appliance for the Usenet visual content that’s otherwise very difficult to find and download. (If you know how to download dirty movies from Usenet without GUBA, you probably already know how to convert all your files into iPod-friendly formats too, while baking a savory peach pie with your other hand.) Maybe GUBA (I thought hopefully) would have some iPod-friendly dirty movies?

Ding ding ding ding ding! Jackpot. It turns out that GUBA is riding the crest of the iPod porn wave; they have recently added a filter that converts almost all of the video on Usenet into iPod-friendly format, so if it’s been posted to Usenet in the last couple of weeks, you can download it iPod-ready. That’s a LOT of porn, folks; the bigger groups (like alt.binaries.multimedia.erotica) can have 2,500 or more video clips (or even whole movies) at any one time. And there are a metric buttload of different porn groups — one for every imaginable fetish.

When it comes to finding and downloading, nothing could be easier. Just pick your flavor (say, nude celebrities from alt.binaries.multimedia.nude.celebrities) and browse the videos — they make it easy with full-screen “contact sheet” style previews, or you can watch online with a nifty streaming Flash application. Here’s a clip of Halle Berry getting naked and nasty (in a good way) in Monster’s Ball (members-only link, will expire in a couple of weeks):

All you have to do is hit the “iPod Download” button. Once the file’s on your hard drive, import it into iTunes and it will be added to your iPod the next time you synch up. Easy as pie!

Better still, every newsgroup on GUBA has a nifty “subscribe to Feed in iTunes” button at the top of the page: When I clicked that, I downloaded a .pcast file that loads into iTunes and sets it up to download new movies from the selected group as fast as they appear (bandwidth permitting, and you can eat a lot of it this way). An endless gusher of porn, shooting from the hose faster than you could ever hope to consume it. (I could dirty up that metaphor if you liked.)

None of which would matter much, except for the fact that (just like everyone says) watching video on the iPod is an unexpectedly pleasurable experience. The screen is bright and vivid, the details are sharp, and when the iPod’s in your hand, it naturally gravitates to your most comfortable viewing distance. In many cases, it’s actually quite a lot better than watching the same movies on your computer screen. Plus, you can take the iPod somewhere more comfortable (or more private) than your computer desk, if you are so inclined….

I bought my video iPod to have an iPod, thinking the video would be a mostly-worthless gimmick. Boy, was I wrong. The Nymph (who loves music videos) took one look over my shoulder and began pleading with me to let her play with it — the video is that pretty. At this rate, I may have to buy her a second one!

Update from the future: Apple invented smartphones, killing video iPods deader than the Dodo bird. Meanwhile GUBA pulled a #pornocalypse and got rid of all its porn, trying to compete with YouTube; it was dead and gone in eighteen months. Now this post is nothing but a quaint historical artifact. But The Nymph enjoyed that video iPod for many years, in truth.

The Manners Of Giving And Getting Head

OK, OK, so there’s like, a jillion oral sex guides out there on the internet. I fondly recall reading one back when I really needed one, back before there was a World Wide Web, when the best internet resources took the form of huge lovingly-crafted ASCII text files. After a few years of sex blogging, though, the oral sex guides all start to run together and feel the same.

Which is why this one is worth linking to: It’s not so much about technique as it is about etiquette, and it’s written in a fresh and entertaining voice:

Okay, pervs and pervettes. It’s time for Chow Yun Smut to step up and testify on the importance of manners. I don’t care which fork you use at the dinner table, I don’t care if you hold the door open for the ladies, I don’t care about the ongoing debate on who pays for a date. This is all about giving head.

DISCLAIMER: This is NOT a primer for technique…. Manners, folks. Etiquette. Because I was recently confronted with a person who has apparently been allowed to be sexually active with more than one person, and yet nobody has taken the time to inform this person of some very basic rules of engagement.

Of course, I didn’t find this first; I found the link over at Fleshbot, where the skilled professional sex bloggers tend to find all the goodies before I do. But hey, Violet Blue did write the book on oral sex (well, two of them, actually) and so if she recommends it, it’s surely worth your time.

Test Riding A Fucking Machine

Long ago I blogged about fucking machines, but in the years since, this post by Audacia Ray at Waking Vixen is the first detailed account I’ve seen from a woman who has gamely taken one of the machines for a good test ride:

Dacia vs. The Machine

or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Robocock

So in the quest to make my life experience increasingly peculiar, last night I had an, um, encounter with a fucking machine. How, you may ask, would this come about? Well, I was contacted a while ago by a photographer who is interested in the intersection between sexuality and machines… an interesting conversation resulted and the revelation that said photographer is in possession of a fucking machine (you know, one of these things). Was I intrigued? Well, considering that I was already intrigued by his project, yes I certainly was.

So, fast forward to last night, when I filled my suitcase with clothes, shoes and sex toys and made my way to the studio we were shooting in. We started out with some still pics for a bit of warm up and utilized my very red wardrobe and collection of high heels. I was amused to find that it’s becoming much easier to walk in 5 inch stilettos; when I put on my platforms I felt almost like I was wearing sneakers, they were so easy to move around in. Hey, strutting in 5 inch heels is a useful life skill for me.

After a while, the photographer took out the fucking machine for me to admire and ponder. It was basically a metal suitcase like the kind you see carrying millions of dollars in those gangster movies. Except inside of it was the metal that makes the hump possible, and it had a metal pole sticking out of it. It came with a collection of dildos (the icky flesh colored, veiny jelly rubber ones) but I was delighted to find out that my favorite silicone dildo happened to have a hollowed out space perfectly sized for said metal attachment. Well then. We turned the machine on its end so the dildo was pointing skywards, twisted its control on, and watched mesmerized as it pumped at the ceiling. Another twist of the knob and it pumped faster.

The photographer turned to me and said, “So what do you think?”

My eyes still locked on the machine, I responded, “Well, it’s kind of scary. But the noises it makes are less terrifying than I thought they’d be; I thought it would sound more like a jackhammer. Let’s do it.”

He raised his eyebrows at me and said, “You’ll be the first to have a go with it. Other models have been curious about it, but everyone’s been too afraid of it to actually use it.”

Leave it to me to take the machine’s virginity and give it my robot love virginity in exchange.

To warm myself up for the machine, I did a bit of a strip tease with the video camera trained on me, unzipped my dress (hey, I’m a class act, what can I say?), sat down in a comfy chair and began to play with my pussy. I dipped my fingers in my mouth and then smeared the wetness on my freshly shaved labia. By this time I was distracted by the task at hand, so I forgot about being careful with my lipstick and probably fucked it all up, but who cares — I was getting ready to make sweet robot love. I lingered with my fingers pulling at my labia, mixing spit and cunt juices together, rubbing my clit into the awakened state that always makes my piercing jut at an odd angle. I reached beside my chair for my trusty lube and toys and started to use the mini slimline all over my vulva; its hard plastic occasionally chattering over my piercing. I felt my labia plump up and the area just above my pubic bone swell. I pressed down on it and slid the vibe inside me at an angle so that I’d touch my g-spot while also bearing down on it from above. Good, cross-eyed stuff. While keeping the vibe in place with one hand, I reached for my lumina wand with the other. I was ready for some harder g-spot banging. Chatter chatter chatter was the sound of the moment as the slimline collided with my piercing and the lumina wand, and sometimes both at once. I felt my juices start to drip out of me and expand down the insides of my thighs — I was ready for robot love. I tapered off with the vibrator and announced, “I’m ready for it.”

We shuffled things around a bit and tried to figure out the optimal position for machine fuckery. Since the floor was looking none too comfy for laying or kneeling on, we decided that it would be best if I stood over the machine, with it poking me from below. I had to take my fabulous stilettos off for this portion of the evening’s program so that I could balance better. I lubed up my dildo and inserted it before turning the machine on, and then slowly twisted the knob. With a click and a grind, the machine sprung to life, and on its first upward thrust popped out of my pussy. This much I can say — though the machine repetitively thrusts in the exact same way, it is still no easier to keep the cock-pussy connection going than it is with a real live cock. Or maybe I just need more machine-fucking practice.

After getting the hang of the machine for a while, we decided that I should turn around and angle the thing so that I would be getting fucked from behind, though still standing up. We put a stool in front of me for leaning against, and this position worked much better, partly due to the fact that I was no long looking directly at the machine and being fascinated by the hump mechanism (yes, that’s a technical term). I could concentrate more on the solid fucking the thing was administering once I was propped up on my elbows and pointing my ass at machine (and camera). I dropped my left hand down onto my clit and realized that my pussy was a sopping mess (in a good way).

I closed my eyes, listened to the steady hum of the machine behind me, and went to town on my clit. That dildo isn’t my favorite for nothing — its smooth swells rubbed my g-spot in just the right way, and the wide base stretched my cunt wide for a spilt second as the machine penetrated me to the hilt. Though at first I had been too concerned with the mechanics of the operation (and I’ll admit, a little self-conscious about being on camera) to think that I’d be able to make an orgasm happen, it was becoming a reality. I felt myself slip into my head and body a bit more, and I looked down to see my legs violently shaking.

The gears inside the suitcase groaned against my pulsing cunt muscles. It made a bit of a cranking noise and I wondered for a second if my orgasm was going to push the cock out (it didn’t), but then I got lost in the feeling of coming. With a soft sigh, my body began to go slack, and I slowed the machine to a stop. I disengaged, still shaking and a little flushed. The photographer watched me shaking subtly before him for a second, and then asked, “So, how was it?”

“It was… good. Interesting. I was able to get into it more when I wasn’t looking at the shiny metal of the machine.”

So, it wasn’t the most fearsome orgasm ever, and I didn’t go totally nuts about the machine, but I think given some practice and a different position (how about not standing up), my robot love skills could increase exponentially. Now there’s a useful life skill to have.

Paranoid Bloggers Shoot Selves In Foot, Film At Eleven

It happened again. Folks, being paranoid about your copyrights is not the way to get ahead in the blog world. Links and quotes are your friends.

What happened? I found a new blog that I was going to add to my blogroll and highlight in Thursday’s Sex Blog Roundup on Fleshbot. I selected a couple of sentences to use in the quote blurb on Fleshbot, and got a Javascript popup message sternly warning me:

Sorry, right clicks not allowed.

Images and text are protected.

All rights reserved.

One of the rights reserved being, apparently, the right to languish in obscurity with precisely one backlink showing in Google. Enjoy those rights, y’all!

Female Sexual Submission

As you know full well if you surf the sex blogs much, there’s a peculiar surplus of angst-ridden blogs by women who self-identify as sexually submissive. A frequent theme for the angst seems to be the tension between these women’s desires to be or to feel sexually submissive, and their desires to be fully valued as free and autonomous human beings.

It’s in that light that DTG’s trenchant observations on the difference between sexual submission and boring old acquiescence strike me as being most useful. I’ll let you click through for the bit on acquiescence, but the bit on submission is too fun not to quote:

Submission is right there in our physiology. We feel it in our bodies from the first time we get fucked. Like puppies, we roll on our backs and expose our soft bellies and breasts, spread our legs, and let you big guys have free run of our most tender parts. Not only do we submit, we wag our bums and pant joyfully and sometimes pee ourselves with excitement. Well, some of us do. Heh.

Adult Industry Blogs

An email from Sam Sugar of SugarBank has prompted me to create a new category on the blogroll: Adult Industry Blogs.

Sam’s is only the most recent entrant into the category of well-written blogs by porn industry participants: photographers, movie makers, adult webmasters, and pornographers of every stripe. These folks are often extremely knowledgeable, literate, and passionate about sex-related topics, but the ones who don’t blog about their own sex lives (or who don’t post so many free samples of their product) have never been a great fit in the Sex Blog category. The new category also gives me room for creative people like Tony Comstock and others whose blogs present as marketing devices, but interesting ones. (I say “present as marketing devices” because any blog by a person in commerce is a marketing device, whether or not people notice it as such.)

Back to Sam Sugar. To give you the flavor, he recently debunked nine anti-porn myths:

6. Porn is for perverts

With 800 million videos being sold and rented in North America each year either porn is loved by everyone, or everyone’s a pervert.

Paul Fishbein (founder of AVN magazine) said that anti-porn protestors want us to believe that the porn industry serves 800 guys who each rent a million movies a year. He’s right.

People want to enjoy sexual material in every city and state, they spend more on porn in hotels than they do on drinks from the mini-bar. Whatever your thoughts about it, porn’s not a niche interest.

Indeed.

Real Authentic Sex

I don’t quote often from Naked Loft Party, entertaining though it often is. As sex blogs go, it’s always struck me as rather surreal. I don’t disbelieve what I read there (well, no more than I disbelieve anything I read on the Internet) but the urban, stylish, clubbing, partying, multipartnered lifestyle too far outside my experience for easy self-identification. However, any good sex blog will have moments of recognizable truth, like this one:

When we finally stumble into our apartment Les and I are too drunk to screw. I sit bolt upright in my office chair until the world stops spinning and then join Leslie in bed. When our hangovers finally subside early Sunday evening we have supremely lazy, sweaty sex — sweaty only because I hadn’t bothered to install the air conditioner. We started halfway through Crossing Jordan and now we’re both craning our necks to catch the dramatic conclusion. It’s the kind of sex that only someone who loves you lets you get away with.

Love that last line! Who hasn’t been there?

Sex Blog Roundup

For some time now I’ve been compiling one of the two weekly Sex Blog Roundups over at the extremely-cool Fleshbot. But for one stupid reason or another, I’ve kept forgetting to link to the roundups after I’ve done ’em. Today’s roundup is here, so git along, little dogies!

Whooping Cough Sex

A feller by the name of DangerSpouse wrote this hugely long comic essay on his wife’s bout with whooping cough (and other family tribulations). This man could retell the Book of Job and make it funny. Of particular interest to sex blog readers is this bit:

Back on the homefront, NewWifey(tm) was feeling better by her second day on meds. I know she was feeling better because even though she was still coughing with almost every single breath, when I walked in the door her first words to me were “Let’s fuck!”

Now, I had been spending my nights since her arrival on a futon in the room farthest from her bedroom, in an attempt to insulate myself from her WMD breath.

But…

“OK!”

Needless to say, with NewWifey(tm) coughing explosively every 4 or 5 seconds, one of her three orifices was effectively off limits unless I wanted to be blown up like a balloon through a very short valve. So that left two gaping Survivor finalists.

Decisions, decisions….

It finally came down to Face Time. As in, I didn’t want any.

So, “Bite the Pillow” it was.

AND IT WAS GREAT!

Here, let me show you:

Jam your thumb up your butt, and then cough. Hard. Repeatedly.

IS THAT AWESOME, OR WHAT?

Of course, I wasn’t using my thumb. Or own butt. Which made it EVEN BETTER.

(You were. So that makes you gay.)

Lemme tell you, the next three or four days were some of the happiest of my life.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• "Sneeze For Me, Baby..."

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.

All Hail Dionysus!

Folks, I’ve got a guest blogger to introduce. The next two weeks for me are set to be a whirlwind of travel and (fun but hectic) turmoil, with few opportunities to blog and little time to do it in. Aphrodite should be putting in some appearances with any luck, and I’ve implored The Nymph to post once or twice — but I’d hate for you to grow bored.

No fear of that. Not any more.

Your new guest blogger has volunteered to do some guest sex blogging under the handle “Dionysus”, and I jumped at the chance to have him. He’s an experienced blogger whose intense sex writing has been known to make my jaw drop. But like many bloggers, even psuedonymous ones, he’s become — to an extent — a captive of the expectations of his regular readership. Guest blogging here, under a new name, should let him really cut loose. Whether he plans to tell stories he dasn’t tell where they know him, or whether he plans to turn the intensometer dials to eleven, I couldn’t tell you (because he hasn’t told me). Who knows? Perhaps he plans to write tender tales of young lesbian love, full of flowers and unicorns and fluffy cotton-candy orgasms. We’ll all find out together.

Welcome, Dionysus!

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.

Sex Blog Advice From Violet Blue

Violet Blue has been looking at a lot of sex blogs lately, and she’s posted a nifty list of advices for sex bloggers. I don’t agree with everything she posted, but most of her observations are right on target. Especially:

And do take a look at other sex blogs — everyone is using the same three Blogger templates these days, so unless you want to be confused with “cumsucker99: diary of a demure ding-dong escort,” see what isn’t being done and do that instead.

Please, oh please, customize your template, even if all you do is change the background color a bit.

The Fun In Sex Blogging

Here’s an interesting paragraph from Violet Blue about the fun she had during her brief reign of terror at five days at the helm of Fleshbot:

It was also very interesting to get so up on where and how to find this information in the blogosphere, and see the various media as they operate, watching sex stories hatch and travel around the ‘net, see how various people handle the topics — and see just how much Fleshbot is watched. I saw certain well-known sites pick up items I had posted, and regurgitate the material, post it on their own sites, and even in the same order that I had put it up, with no reference to Fleshbot. I experimented with them to test my theory. I watched sites try to slam, scoop or discredit things I posted. Facinating.

Although Fleshbot’s way bigger and more prominent than Eros Blog, and not so concerned with getting stuff while it’s still fresh, we’re big enough that I’ve seen what she’s talking about, and it is a lot of fun to watch.

Splendor In The Weeds (Ouch Ouch)

I never dreamed that doing a sex blog could be so educational. The latest horizon broadened: ‘Sado-Botany’: A Nettle FAQ. Everything you always wanted to know about rubbing stinging nettles on people, but were afraid to ask. From Urtication: Sex and Nettles via Spanking Blog.

In the immortal words of the Defective Detective: “Wipes! Wipes!”

The Burbman; And The Animal

It’s nice to see others improving their sex lives, it gives me hope that I’ll have one again someday. Starting in February, the Burbman over at Suburban Sex Blog resumed more regular posting, with the good news that he and his wife seem to have turned their sexless marriage back into something fun for both of them. He’s also offering to help others in similar situations. Good on ya, Burbman!

A few people have written me regarding my preference for hairy men. At this point my only preference is for a live, decent man, but it is true that I don’t like a guy who’s artificially smooth. I was trying to figure out how to say exactly what I don’t like about overly bare guys, but the Dirty Talking Girl beat me to it:

I love male body hair.

I can’t imagine him shaving or, god forbid, waxing, and I don’t understand women who require smoothness in a man.

I think they’re afraid of the animal.

Maybe…..or maybe all the glitzy porn images have led both men and women to expect silky smoothness everywhere. Sure, hair can get in the way or be inconvenient sometimes, but I’ll never forget the guy who got me soaking wet by just playing with my pubes…..pulling gently on a few hairs beginning near my ass and working his way up, sometimes twirling or tickling, but never touching my skin until I was begging him to bury his cock in me. Mmmmmmmm……

More Anal Sex Blogging

You have to love a blog entry that starts:

“And then I am kneeling on the bed, ass up in the air, and I am not quite sure how I got this way.”

Sarah’s tone in that opener reminds me of the old cliche of the pregnant young miss who breathlessly exclaims “I don’t know how this could possibly have happened to me!”

Promoting Anal Sex Blogging

I’ve always fancied that ErosBlog should be a force for social good. Now here’s proof. Among its many and manifest positive social benefits, ErosBlog encourages evil science chicks to blog about anal sex. What’s not to like about that?

{drums fingers}

Evilsciencechick, we are waiting….

Endless Parade of Penises

I find it ironic, really. In the years I’ve been doing this sex blog, I’ve read a lot of other sex blogs, the vast majority of which seem to be written by women. Whenever one of these women talks about trying internet personals or doing any other project that involves making an email address available, she almost invariably grouses about guys who open hailing frequencies by sending along pictures of their penises.

Aphrodite has to be different — she’s now the one woman on the internet who has actually solicited dick pictures. If I were a betting man, I’d bet that the pictures will still be flowing into that email address five years from now.

Me, if I’ve got to see a dick, I still prefer that somewhere in the picture, there’s a woman paying it some friendly attention. Call me old fashioned, like this picture:

From Usenet.

Sex Blog Tip

Spanking Blog has a long post up full of adult blogging tips — although many are applicable to all sorts of blogging, and not just to sex blogs. I wish more people felt this way:

Be very wary of negotiated link exchanges. If somebody has already linked to you, and emails you to ask for a return link, try to give their site a fair look. It’s polite to reciprocate, but not fair to your surfers if the site sucks. However, if someone emails you about an “exchange of links”, but hasn’t put your own link up yet, they are telling you “I don’t think your site is good enough to link to, but I’ll do it anyway if you’ll link to me first.” Screw that. Half the time, even if you do put up the link, they never reciprocate. But the important point is: they don’t respect you enough to link to you. They only want your return link. Again, screw that.

What he said, once again with feeling: “Screw that!”

Mistress Matisse: Queen Of The Sex Bloggers?

So I was looking at the Best Of Blog nominations (because somebody told me ErosBlog was on there, albeit in a mystifying category with a horrifying and ridiculous scarlet-letter disclaimer after our name.) I was delighted to discover that the enormously entertaining Mistress Matisse is a finalist in the best sex blog category.

Now, obviously I like her blog a lot, or it likely wouldn’t be at the very top of my sex blog list. (Lower down, position doesn’t mean anything; but blogs near the top are all ones much liked by Aphrodite, The Nymph, or me.) Matisse combines an entertaining writing style I can’t even manage to dream of having with a commendable willingness to write about her own personal and professional exploits, which are (from the perspective of a country boy like me) themselves rather eye-opening. The combination ensures that her blog is the first link I click every morning when I open my blog. I therefore commend her to your voting finger. You know what to do.

What? Not convinced yet? Smart and funny don’t do it for ya? So you’re one of those horndogs who wouldn’t cast a vote for Pope without shouting “show us yer tits” first? We got ya covered:

Unreduced photo here.

If Matisse doesn’t do it for you, there are other worthy candidates on the sex blog list, including at least one set of old blogfriends that would be very close in the contest for my fickle affections if they only posted more regularly. (Hi, Mike-and-Michelle!) But I promise you, there’s nobody else on that sex blog list who would make a better Queen of The Sex Bloggers….

Good, Better, Best

Just found another good sex blog, Letters to an Angel. (I wonder how many Christian types wander to the site, see the graphic, get squicked/scared and leave…. :laugh: ) I haven’t had time to go through it all, but here’s my fave entry so far. Better and Best:

Holding your hands over your head while we make love is good.

Tying you to the bed while we make love is better.

Tying you to the bed, then teasing you till you beg is best.

Mmmmmmmmm………

Sex Blog Panic

This may be the funniest blog-related email I have yet received. A Yahoo email user wrote (subject line in bold):

Busted!!!?On My Ladies’ Computer, and She Works for the Government/Signing Off for Good!!!!!

I should not have been sneaking and using my ladies’ computer to Blog in but I am a sicko!!!!!

She reported your site to the police, to the States Attorney’s Office as well as sending this information to Washington!!!!!!

NO FURTHER COMMUNICATION IS, and WILL NEVER BE POSSIBLE!!!!!!

If you know what’s good for you, you’ll start heading for the hills, quick!!!!!!!!!

I know I am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All punctuation faithfully reproduced. I wonder, is “Overuse of Exclamation Points In The First Degree” a federal offense?

Guy Harvesting In Nine Words

Running this sex blog, I’ve been privileged to read millions of the words people write about the schemes and strategies they use to attract and keep sexual partners. Few writers on the topic manage to be as succinct as Ice Ice Baby, writing at Wax A Chump Like A Candle in the blog section at Bondage.com:

I will have him. Oh yes, I will.

Capture the mind. Feed the belly. Drain the cock.

He’s mine.

Yeah, that about covers the essentials.

First Among Sex Blogs

It always amuses me when I link to something and then all the other big blogs link to it weeks later.

How Not To Get Sex Blog Links

I get a lot of people who write in looking to get on the blog roll. Whether that happens tends to depend on intangible factors, but it almost never happens immediately. Usually I dump those emails into a folder to look at when I’m short of blogging material; and there’s stuff a year old in there that I haven’t looked at yet.

I can’t offer tips on what’s likely to strike my fancy. But I can offer the following tips on what not to do:

1) Send me an email about your nifty blog — and omit to send along a link. Believe it or not, this happens a lot.

2) Ask for a link…but don’t put up a link to ErosBlog. For extra points, ask for links to your “blog” that doesn’t have any outgoing links.

3) Ask to “exchange” links. I figure, if you like ErosBlog, you’ll already have a link up. And if you don’t like it, odds are you’ll “forget” to put up my link later.

4) Ask for a link to your nifty new blog “that only has one post so far.”

5) Ask for a link to your blog — that doesn’t exist at the specified URL a mere week later.

I could go on in this vein, but that’s a good start.

They Like Bukkake

The market for blog entries about bukkake has been sorely underserved ever since The Reverse Cowgirl folded her blog. (We are still miffed that she vanished without so much as a farewell entry, but there it is.) Still, this humble sex blog fills her footsteps when it can. Herewith: a bukkake song.

Git Yer Politics Right Here

The never-ending drumbeat of demand for this simple sex blog to go political cannot be ignored. You want politics? I’ll give you politics:

No, wait. The drumbeat can be ignored. On second thought, just enjoy the pic. Go bother Daze if you want the political context.

Government Porn

I’ve been tempted. Yes I have. I can’t deny it. When the government gets into the porn business, and makes a product that looks like surprisingly high-quality femdom and/or gay porn, it’s tough for a sex blogger to avoid comment. But I’ve been holding back.

I’ve written before about the reasons why “sexual atrocities are featured much less often on this blog than they might be.” Matisse makes the point much more succinctly. She has a wise policy: “I don’t eroticise non-consensual violence.” And this blog is, for the most part, supposed to be erotic.

Troll my archives, you might find a few places where I arguably have eroticised sexual atrocities. What can I say? Mistakes were made. I take full responsibility.

Whuh? No, I don’t think so. Of course nobody is going to lose their job over this. Are you nuts? Resign? Why bother, I already took responsibility, didn’t you hear me?

A Marriage of Inconvenience

Finally got around to putting up a link to Suburban Sex Blog, which I’ve been meaning to do for awhile. Fair warning: it’s kind of a downer blog, written by one of these guys whose married sex life is unhappy and whose wife’s idea of talking about it is telling him to “get over it“.

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.

Sex Blog Commenters For Cthulhu

It’s April 1, but I could not make this up. Check out the anonymous comment on the link I posted a year ago to the God is a Masturbator website.

Yup, you are reading that right:

“u r sick… i will prey for you!”

I tremble, I surely do.

Lake of Fire, Here I Come!

I suppose it’s a little surprising it took all this time for the fire and brimstone brigade to come around here. In case you missed it, my comments were graced with this lovely sentiment, unburdened by any actual discussion of or engagement with the topic of my post:

“Whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.”

Which is from Revelations 20:15, although the commenter with the barbecue fetish was apparently too busy visualizing roasted human flesh to bother saying so. Having assumed, for blogging purposes, the identity of the Roman god of intoxication and orgies, I naturally find this sort of badly-directed preaching to be at least as funny as Io in her heifer suit.

Although this particular sex blog is not the place for discussions of Christian religion, me being neither Christian nor convertible, there’s no particular reason why sex blogs (even kinky ones) can’t handle the subject with grace, intelligence, and wit when it comes up. Alas, that’s apparently too much to expect from the littering pamphleteers with the sulphurous savor of burning flesh in their nostrils.

A Mormon Denies Candle Salad

A long time ago I blogged this photograph of a phallic dessert attributed to those most clean-minded of people, the Mormons. The post has now drawn this denial:

“I am LDS and I find it appauling you incline we have food like that. We do not and I do not know where you get your information from.”

I don’t know which is more funny: the fact that a Mormon is reading a sex blog and condemning the food reporting, or the fact that that a sex-blog-reading Mormon can’t spell and doesn’t understand that the source of my information is right there in the post behind the little underlined words that link to … wait for it … where I get my information from.

Benefits Of Rectal Analgesics

There is no intention that this sex blog should host a long parade of sexual medical mishaps. Nor yet do I want to tread upon the ground that has been so thoroughly and famously trodden by the infamous Rectal Foreign Bodies page. However, in response to the last item Dr_Spaz was kind enough to email this link:

An unexpected benefit of pre-emptive rectal analgesic administration: the “key” to postoperative analgesia.

Moving rapidly along….

Helping J Get Some

Here’s just about the nicest endorsement a sex blog can hope to get, from over at Naughty Secrets:

I’ve noticed that when T reads naughty blogs, she gets all randy. She usually starts with Eros Blog, and hits all the links that he has on there. That usually gets her engine running and that ends usually ends up with ‘naked snuggles’. Lucky me.

So, this is a thank you to Bacchus and everyone on the list to the left. Thanks for helpin’ me get some.

You are most welcome!

Breast Of the Month

I know that in the current politically correct environment, a nursing woman’s breast is supposed to be devoid of all sexual connotation, and hence off-topic for a sex blog.

Screw that.

This breast of an Iraqi mother is prettier than Janet Jackson’s boob ever hoped to be.

From photographer Stephanie Sinclair.

The Nymph In My Net: Touching

Isn’t it an amazing feeling when you click random blog links and stumble onto a post that feels like the author was eavesdropping in your brain? I’ll tell you what I mean:

I’m a hands-on sort of guy. I love to touch and be touched. But I’ve never been very good at it. The lady I used to be with a few years ago was the sort who always managed to shrug my hand off her arm, or turn away just as I was reaching for her. Always so innocent and seemingly random or accidental, it took me years to catch on to the fact that she just didn’t like to touch. Even early in that relationship, I often wished she’d touch me more. I’m not talking about sex, here, although I could. I’m just talking about a friendly gesture as we would pass in a hallway. A hand touching a wrist, that sort of thing.

The Nymph does not have this not-touching issue. Quite the contrary. She warned me on the phone, seemed concerned even, that she’s “hands-y”. I said “Sounds yummy to me!” and meant it from the bottom of my heart.

Hands-y? She is, too. And I love it. I never want her to let go. But she keeps making comments that make it clear, she’s worried I’ll grow to think she’s clingy. The woman actually jokes (the “ha ha, only serious” kind of jokes) that I’ll get tired of her “hanging on me” all the time.

That’s so not going to happen. Have I mentioned I love it when she touches me? Or, that I’m touching her just as much, and feel like I can’t stop?

It’s like Dan wrote about his Amber (links long gone):

When we first got together, I came to understand how starved Amber was for this kind of attention. She was actually afraid that I was going to get *tired* of touching her. What I realized was that I’d been starved for years for someone *to* touch, and she’d been starved for years for someone to touch *her*.

A perfect match!

We now return you to your regularly-scheduled (i.e., non-sappy) sex blogging.

The Freedom To Be Naked

Although ErosBlog does not cover politics very much at all, I’ve long seen this sex blogging project as being my little contribution to a vital culture war. Because we are very sexual monkeys, control over sexual expression is one of the most important tools in the arsenal of the orcs who seek to govern and enslave us. (“Govern and enslave? Sorry, I repeat myself.”)

Daze and others have amply covered the case of Melissa Lincoln, the Nebraska lady who likes to get naked in public and enjoys making a buck when she does it. She’s been charged with public nudity, and faces actual jail time for it (although doubtless she’ll be offered a nice plea bargain that requires her to promise she’ll keep her pretty naked assets securely wrapped). After all, the point is to control sexual expression, remember? This isn’t about Melissa, it’s about reminding everyone that the orcs are watching and they will come for you if you don’t follow their rules.

Except that Melissa wants to fight. The liberty activists at the Liberty Round Table have been in touch with her, and it turns out that she doesn’t plan to knuckle under. She wants to fight this “all the way” and she doesn’t intend to plea bargain.

That’s a big ouchie, folks. A basic misdemeanor criminal defense starts at five grand, and that price assumes you’ll take any decent plea bargain. Appeals often cost thirty grand apiece, and you can need several.

The Knights of Nonaggression over at the Liberty Round Table have a list of what you can do to help, but the most obvious thing you can do is throw money. In Melissa’s case, the easiest way you can do that is to buy a membership at her web site. Sure, it’s commercial, but this is no “help me buy some fake boobs” bogus plea; the lady really does face jail time if she stands up for basic freedoms here. She will be under tremendous pressures to take a plea. As the LRT puts it:

For our part, we are not exhibitionists, but do believe that anything that de-mystifies sex, shows that good clean fun and healthy bodies are not ‘dirty’, is a very positive thing. There’s no end to the flood of misery produced by people’s twisted ideas about sex, love, and the human body, so we say: ‘Hurray for Melissa’s one woman war against benighted puritan attitudes!’ That Melissa’s site has a commercial side makes her work no less valuable — have not libertarians and objectivists always said that freedom is so valuable that there ought to be a way to promote it at a profit? We agree with Melissa; she has nothing to be ashamed of, not her body, not her pictures, not her profit.
…
It seems to me that there is no better way to show appreciation for an artist than to pay for her work; it has a better, cleaner feel than straight charity and allows her to be able to give some value in return for the help.

Indeed. And thanks to Don and Sunni at the Liberty Round Table for getting in touch with Melissa and publicizing her will to fight!

Cock Under Lock

When I first got an email from D about his new “Cock Under Lock” BlogSpot blog, my first thought was “eh, that’s about 180 degrees backwards for a sex blog, isn’t it?” But as it happens, the device appears to come off fairly frequently. Apparently D’s lady merely got tired of sharing him with his extensive porno collection. Except on her terms:

I was making a joke referencing a porno I owned, and that E found somewhat repulsive, called “Ass Cream Pies“. At one point describing the kind of cum eating some of the girls do in that movie (read the description if you want to know) . E was so abhorred by this, she said, “that’s it! I’m tying you up and making you drink a shotglass of your own cum. So you can know what it’s like”. I was both turned on by this but also knew that I would not want to drink it after I came. But I was mostly turned on, and looking forward to getting some sort of release.

True to her word, when we got home I was promptly tied down again. She then decided as part of my punishment I would have to watch the Porno in question whilst I was imobilized. This went on for about 45 minutes. I was excited but unable to do anything to further my enjoyment. While this was going on E just sat on the computer doing online shopping and emailing. Eventually she proceeded to unlock the chastity device. I was already semi-hard, but once freed, became almost instantly erect. She started teasing me with light strokes, making me increasingly more rigid. I was as swelled up as I’ve ever seen myself. If that wasn’t enough she inserted the “Tristan” butt plug into my ass. She left the room for a moment and returned with a glass….

Unlimited Free Porn

You might think that for a guy running a sex blog, I’m oddly reluctant to link to actual porn sites. Of course, there is a reason for this; too many porn sites treat surfers badly. Popups, hostile downloads, link skimming, and blind/misleading links abound. It’s a jungle out there.

But: Isn’t it my job to guide you, my readers, to the few places in the jungle that are actually worth visiting?

As it turns out, there are sites on the internet that specialize is linking to huge piles of free porn. Called “TGPs” or Thumbnail Gallery Posts, these sites consist of link lists to advertising pages for pay sites. The pay sites themselves may suck, and often do, but the advertising pages (called galleries) usually have an enticing collection of free photographs or movies.

Now, most TGPs treat surfers like dirt. The worst offense is link skimming; these TGPs will list an enticing collection of galleries, but when you click the link, a script grabs you and dumps you on some other page entirely (usually another TGP, sometimes somewhere in pop-up-hell land). Links which lie about their destination are another common problem. Popups are also common, as is deliberately-bad page design so that you’ll click on the ads because you can’t find the content.

Fortunately, there are exceptions. The Hun’s Yellow Pages is the most, and most justly, famous: it’s a huge daily list of descriptive text links to free porn pages. The Hun has been at this since the internet was a puppy, and his page is as clean as a whistle. And there are others. I look for TGPs with frequent updates, an honest text link or thumbnail picture that shows you what you are getting, lack of popups on the TGP page, and, of course, a good selection of links to free porn. But most of all, I look for TGPs which respect their visitors and are surfer friendly.

Having found a few such over the years, I’ve decided to list half a dozen over in the blogroll bar under the heading “Piles of Free Porn”. The list may grow, and it will likely change from time to time. Enjoy!

Tentacle Yaoi

And now, back to business. The anonymous link contribution of the day: Tentacle Yaoi. And what is yaoi, you may ask? Indeed, you may:

What is yaoi? Yaoi is a woman’s genre of manga (comic books) and short stories, produced by female artists and writers for the enjoyment of female readers. It’s a fantasy form which focuses on the romantic, emotional and above all sexual relationships of guys together.

Huh? That’s right. M/M. Men in Love. Homosexuality, homoeroticism, platonic love. Whatever you want to call it. Two Guys.

So it’s gay porn for women? Nope. It’s a female fantasy of what’s sexually attractive, not a gay male one. Yaoi embodies the (surprisingly common) female notion that m/m relationships are the stuff of high romance and beauty and true love and angst and impossibly wonderful sex five times an hour. Not surprisingly, yaoi gives real gay men the giggles.

For a start, the first requirement is that all the men be better-looking than any real man can possibly be, like the heroes of Japanese cartoon series (anime). The relationships are given a highly romantic slant that appeals to a lot of women, but rarely to men. Yaoi emphasizes the emotional side of things as much as the physical, and the stories happen in a very unrealistic version of the real world. Yaoi men tend to have impossible anatomy and very unlikely psychology. Silver hair, purple eyes, and a tendency to self-mutilation as an expression of love are not uncommon.

I learn something new every day. Who knew this sex blogging business would turn out to be such a tremendous broadener of the mind?

Strange Fetishes

It will come as no surprise to readers of this sex blog (given some of the pictures and links that get posted here) that there are as many startling fetishes in the world as (it sometimes seems) there are people. Nor is ErosBlog the place to come to find condemnation of any of them (fetishes or people), although as to some (fetishes) this blog remains silent for the sake of my own undisturbed digestion. The next story, from Rebel With A Clue of the Anarchobabes, caught my eye because it involves a fetish I’d never heard of, and a stunningly dickish approach to satisfying it:

When I was just out of high school, I hitched a ride with this older guy in a nice car and a suit. Okay, so tell me I’m crazy, but he seemed okay. And he was, I guess. He was a lawyer, very respectable. We ended up going out a couple of times and old mom really liked him. I got the finally you’re going out with the RIGHT kind of guy rant. I could just see her planning my wedding to a fuckin lawyer. And he seemed okay, except for being that sort of guy who tells you you shouldn’t order steak well done and who tries to make you feel bad if you don’t listen to La Boheme instead of Rage Against the Machine.

So the first couple of times we go out, he’s everything mom thinks he is. But then one night we go to his house and we start getting hot. And it’s okay. I admit it, it’s more than okay, I’m getting ready to jump out of my skin, not only my clothes. And he starts peeling me. Then he gets to my bra. And he takes it off. And he STOPS AND TURNS THE LIGHT UP AND READS THE FUCKIN LABLE!

I have these breasts, you know. Pretty good ones. But he read that lable and got this big dum grin and says, “That’s exactly the size I thought you were!” And then sort of rubs the bra together in his palms and smiles in this weird way. Then he tells me to get dressed and sends me home! That’s all he wanted, to find out my bra size. I never saw the guy again and you bet that was OK with me.

You know, now that I think about it, I have heard of that fetish before. Who among us hasn’t known someone with a fetish for being right, at all costs?

A Male Sex Blogging Credo

Philip from Hot Action has some very cogent thoughts on male sex blogging. I specifically liked his thoughts about the ethics of blogging about sex:

As I see it, my main responsibility is to write as accurately and honestly as possible. I always picture the person involved reading the post and try to gauge if there is anything she could possibly take issue with.

But of course, it’s about way more than accuracy. […]

As a male sex blogger, I feel I have a duty to women to do them right. To give them my best writing, to extract the most beautiful or the most telling image from a situation, to pay tribute to them with elevated [or debased] language.

There are far more ways to make an event “unique and special” than by keeping it private.

I’m ashamed that I didn’t even know about Philip’s blog when I started discussing this subject.

What Submission Is And Is Not

I’ll catch some minor hell for this, but it’s true: sometimes (only sometimes, this is a literal statement and not that too-common rhetorical device of cloaking general distaste in vague disclaimer) when I read blogs by submissives, I get uneasy. Although I’m delighted whenever someone finds a lifestyle they find salutory and life-affirming, no matter how queasy their arrangements make me, there are some types of dominant/submissive relationships that seemed aimed at erasing the individuality, or even the humanity, if the submissive partner.

Accordingly, I am indebted to the strong-minded submissive Invidia, writing at The Collar Purple, for her recent pair of essays “What Submission Is” (scroll down to 12.04.03 entry) and “What Submission Is Not” (12.07.03 entry). The “Is” essay is a simple but powerful catalog of benefits and advantages a submissive (well, Invidia, anyway) enjoys as a consequence of her submission, while the “Is Not” essay covers just about everything that tends to make the hairs rise on the nape of my neck when I’m reading blogs by submissives. As Invidia herself points out, she’s not trying to define submission for anyone but herself, nor would I be impressed if she had done.

So what’s the ultimate reason for bring this up, if it’s all good and what’s wrong for Invidia may be perfectly fine for someone else, and so forth? Well, it’s because in reading so many sex blogs, I see a lot of people (men and women alike) who are talking about exploring dominance and submission but who are put off by some of the common practices Invidia includes in her “Is Not” essay. Perhaps, then, there is value in sharing her “you don’t have to treat your submissive like a Houseplant of Gor to play this game; the perfect submissive does not need to be three feet tall with a flat head to put drinks on” message with a broader audience.

Men And Sex Blogs

I want to share an interesting set of comments I found over at Steve Gilliard’s News Blog. I’ve commented before on how most of the sex blogs I link to are written by women, and how male voices in the sex blog community are so vanishingly rare. When you do find ’em, they are guys like me ‘n Daze who talk about other people almost exclusively. Or we just link to porn pretty pictures. Now, why is that, exactly?

Steve says:

There’s a new spate of sexually oriented blogs. Some are fascinating, some droll, but they are mostly an outgrowth of women expressing themselves online. Not exclusively, but enough to make it an outgrowth of more political and social expressions of opinion.

But what a lot of feminists and their fellow travelers do not understand is this: it is incumbent upon men to be discrete.

The social code of men doesn’t encourage the sharing of sexual secrets with other men, forget women. Which is why Clinton lied, which is why my toes curl when I’m asked about women I’ve dated. One of the big tenets of an adult masculinity is not bragging. You don’t have to do much to let your friends know you’re sexually active. And that’s all that is required.

He also says:

[M]en are judged when they talk about sex. Yes, men tell sex stories, but they leave out the details. Sure, they’ll tell you what happened, but they leave out the details. Most men do not want to know what other men do in bed. Men do not usually hunt down old boyfriends to get details of what they did before. And, no, most do not want to be friends with the guys you’ve slept with. In fact, they like to ignore them. They won’t think they’re good guys or any such nonsense. It’s physics: two bodies cannot share the same space.

Men withhold details to prevent being judged by their peers. Guys do not say “yeah Bob, I really like sucking her toes and brushing her hair after sex.” That’s not anything a guy wants to know about another guy, ever.

Most of which strikes me as pretty much right on the money. There’s a class of guys who tell graphic lies in the locker room, but real men mostly ignore and avoid that, as the crass adolescent posturing it generally is.

More on Men And Sex Blogs

Aleksander at Naked Loft Party thinks there’s a more prosaic reason for the lack of male sex blogs:

I agree it is rather hard to find male sex blogs that don’t revolve around pornography, commentary, sexual frustration, or sucking up to women for the sake of getting dates. We men are poorly represented. But I think the explanation is more prosaic than Bacchus and Gillard realize. Women are socialized to take an interest in discussing sex and relationships, in the same way men are socialized to take an interest in sports or politics. Women are more likely to keep journals in the first place. They are more likely to be involved in sex work. They have no other outlet, seeing as female promiscuity is still viewed as aberrant. And finally there’s that ingrained notion that male sexuality is primitive, one-dimensional, not worthy of exploration; that men who talk about sex are pigs, which is only reinforced by attitudes such as Gillard’s.

He’s also got some interesting things to say about the pressures men face not to talk about sex. Thanks, Aleksander!

Submissive Sex

Submissive sex appears to be the conversational topic o’ the week in the sex blogosphere. First our man at Moving On wrote a fantasy and a follow-up piece, and then Lilith weighed in with an “it’s not for me” reaction that treaded perilously close to being an “it’s icky and so are dominant guys” piece. To be clear: she didn’t say that; but she said “it’s not for me” several ways and then went on a digression (that was unfortunately not obviously a digression) about why she can’t stand domineering guys, and she did it in a way that made it seem like she was lumping all dominant guys into a domineering jerk category. This, it turns out, was apparently not the point she was trying to make — as discussion in her comment area, and a later follow-up that’s much more in line with her normal tone of acceptance of alternate lifestyle approaches, make clear. (Really, it was a fine example of that old Usenet netiquette principle: If someone says something that seems surprisingly out of character for them, or looks like a radical change to the philosophy you expect from them, they are probably being misunderstood and you ought to wait for them to clarify before you jump all over them. I’m glad I waited.)

I myself am enormously entertained by a dominance-and-submission dynamic, even though (and I see no contradictions, although many do) I’m as radical as any you’ll find in my support of self-ownership, personal autonomy, and equality-of-everything-that-matters between men and women. If a woman submits to me, it’s a matter of meta-consent as far as I’m concerned; I’m not uncomfortable (quite the contrary!) taking an atavistic dominant role that would be philosophically horrifying, but for my knowledge that at root, she’s free to change the terms of our relationship, or end it, if it isn’t fulfilling her.

And speaking of fulfilling her, I can’t resist stirring the pot with a sexy submissive report from Sarah at Submissive Reflections, whose nice email to me indicated she only has three readers. Well, Sarah, I’m pleased to share my three thousand or so with you, at least for a day or two:

The first time W/we had sex was a week after He had kissed me and accepted that I was His. It happened to be my birthday. Neither of U/us were waiting for it, it just happened to be the first chance W/we had to be alone together as work was keeping Him busy and out of town. When He came to my place He simply said hello and bit my neck and pulled my skirt up and my panties down and pushed me to the floor and fucked me. There was no foreplay and no words of tenderness. It was just a matter of raw hungry sex. Within minutes He withdrew from me and turned me to my stomach, pulling me to my knees and hands while growling at me to ‘present’ and whilst I was still trying to get my bearings I felt His cock press against my ass. I felt so incredibly turned on. He slid His cock slowly inside my ass, stopping when I clenched and gasped, then pushing into my ass again. I couldn’t believe He was ass fucking me without a word being spoken about it between U/us. When His cock was fully inside me He lay over me and bit my shoulders and neck. He used one hand in my hair to pull my head back and reached for my mouth with His tongue. I closed my lips over it and sucked on His tongue and He came in my ass, growling and grunting and filling me with semen. He collapsed against me and I collapsed against the floor and He kept Himself inside me while He licked and bit and sucked at my neck. He whispered ‘Happy birthday Princess’ in my ear and I felt like I was the luckiest girl alive.

When W/we talked about it later He told me that He hadn’t asked if I liked anal sex because His kind of woman prefered not to be given options. He also knew that I would do anything to please Him, and that had been what pleased Him. Had it repulsed me, He said He would have had to rethink what He wanted as anything that did not make me ‘pant with lust’ would not please Him either. I remember feeling tinier than I had ever felt when I was lying wrapped up in His arms. I had never felt so safe and protected and loved.

The Sex Blog Revolution Continues

Another nice sex blog pops up. Vixxie from Prurient Obscenities wrote in to call it to my attention. Just a couple excerpts from her Thanksgiving post will give you the yummy flavor:

Happy Thanksgiving Day! The food has been started, and so has TheGirl, much fun was had molesting her as she attempted to do the dishes. It’s absolutely wonderful to discover new things that she enjoys, like butt pinching. (Who knew?)
…
I am also very thankful that when I woke up this morning, TheBoy was on my left, TheGirl on my right, and I was warm, and happy, and much loved. That TheGirl got up, early for her, in order to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade with me. The the other night, when she was going to spend the night away, she ended up coming back to sleep here, “because it’s home”.

Spirit of Cowgirl

Ever since the erstwhile Reverse Cowgirl packed up her digital tent in the night, scraped a pine branch over the digital ground to erase her website and all sign of her passing, and led her horse silently out of the sex blog camp like a cowhand who just learned he’d impregnated the Big Boss’s only daughter, I’ve missed her intelligent eye for the sexy-but-odd. Fortunately, the new Fleshbot is proving to have moments of link-choosing brilliance that remind me of her. Today they even have a bukkake link! Fleshbotties, are you sure you don’t have the Cowgirl locked in your closet and enslaved via the use of industrial strength remote control vibrating panties?

The link of the day, though, and the treasure that really reminded me of the inexplicably deleted Cowgirl blog, was their link to the art photo 76 Blowjobs. It’s awesome.

Fleshbot is Loose!

From all the buzz about Fleshbot lately, one would think it was a revolutionary new thing. They describe themselves as “a frequently updated web magazine” that “showcases all the porn that digital technology and distribution has made possible.”

In fact, it appears to be a sort of stylish cross between the ancient and venerable linksite and an illustrated sex blog like this one – except, of course, that unlike ErosBlog, Fleshbot was clearly put together by someone who knows how to design websites (as opposed to sticking them together with cargo cult HTML, voodoo CSS, stale bubblegum, and cussing, the way ErosBlog was built). With Fleshbot’s high volume of quality links (15 so far today – obviously this is a business venture and no mere hobby), keen eye for quality porn, and intelligent text descriptions, the site’s bound to be a smashing runaway success. Good work, please keep it up!

He Puts What, WHERE?

Someone, who would be recognizable to you loyal sex blog readers if I were to fail to preserve their requested anonymity, was so cruel as to send along this link to a directory of disturbing photographs. Perhaps it would be best to let the captions of the photographs speak for themselves, while I go away into a corner and clutch quietly at my genitals.

Photo Sequence #1: “Ever want to know how to shove a Gummi worm up your dick?” Uh, no.

Photo Sequence #2: “Line the worm up with the hanger and slide it in….”
Just for the record: “OUCH!”

Photo Sequence #3: “Stay away from the green ones, for some reason they burn after a while….” Hint: If you didn’t grip yourself so firmly in order to expel them with the brute force of your semen, perhaps the burning would be reduced?

Photo Sequence #4: “You may notice that your cum becomes like syrup, and takes on flavor and color of the worm. My girlfriend loves my cum afterwards!” Why yes, we can all see her lapping it up right there in the picture. No, wait, no we can’t.

And just in case you haven’t had all the fun you can stand, he also does nails and pencils.

2014 update:The original links have long been broken, but a collection of these photos has been obsessively reassembled and published at the Dickworms tumblr. I think I recognize a kindred spirit. Halp?

Sex Blog Roundup

Naomi Darvell at Clean Sheets wrote this roundup of sex blogs while I was away, and had some kind words for ErosBlog:

Bacchus is very much into pictures, ranging from the cute to the edgy. Although he focuses on the female body, he does it without the grating lasciviousness of, say, The Man Show. His is clearly a male point of view, but most of the time it feels friendly to this bi woman.

Naomi has picked up on a very deliberate philosophy of mine. I’ve always felt it should be possible to express my unabashed appreciation for the female form without that stinking aura of leering misogyny that’s found in, say, your average Maxim magazine. I want ErosBlog to always feel friendly to everyone. As Robert Heinlein said: “Sex should be friendly. Otherwise stick to mechanical toys; it’s more sanitary.”

Drat it, now I’m going to start worrying about that “most of the time it feels friendly” line. “Most of the time?” Where did I slip up?

Oh yes, and for the record I can’t stand to watch The Man Show. Why don’t they just expand that “Girls On Trampolines” segment that currently runs during the closing credits? I’d watch that for 22 minutes. Mmmm, oh my yes.

Soon To Be a Daddy

First of all, a disclaimer: I am not a safe sex nazi, and this is not a safe sex blog. The web is awash with info on ways to avoid STDs and pregnancy, and although such info is useful and necessary, it’s often not terribly arousing, so I do my readers the courtesy of assuming they already know what they need to know. At least, that is, until my nose is rubbed in the fact that sometimes, they don’t.

Rambling aside: Back when I linked with affirmation to Red-Headed Slut’s positive comments about Johnson’s Baby Oil gel, I got numerous emails from folks who were eager to be sure that I know that mineral oil destroys latex. Some of these were low-key “just want to be sure you know” sorts of emails, but several were high-energy strident “oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-you-didn’t-warn-everyone” type emails. I found this puzzling, even a bit patronizing, considering that
(a) I knew this;
(b) I assume that most of my readers know it;
(c) I have never undertaken to be the safe sex education for those readers who don’t have basic safe sex information; and
(d) the effect of mineral oil on a latex condom is not terribly relevant in the context of a discussion of a lube recommendation for a hand-job where no condom was mentioned.

In short, I felt that I got spammed by knee-jerk safe sex activist warrior partisans, who have for whatever reason been conditioned to be uncomfortable hearing any mention of oil-based lube unless “destroys condoms” is uttered immediately thereafter, even if that’s not relevant to the discussion. With all due thanks and appreciation for their good and noble intentions, I don’t want to be like those people.

But just this once, I’ll take the risk.

So now, in the fifth paragraph of this post, I’ll get to the point. I got a nice email from a young man who has started a new sex blog [now defunct], and who wants a link. Now, young male voices being quite the minority in the sex blogging world, I naturally went and had a look.

It’s worth a visit. There are two honest-sounding tales so far of young sexual encounters. But (and you knew there was a “but”, didn’t you?) I was immediately struck by the first post, in which the narrator says:

“I guided her into a position so I could spoon with her, lowered her pants, and slipped myself inside. We continued for a while, and then (as a matter of anti-pregnancy) I pulled out and put on a condom.”

When read this, my inner safe sex nazi started yelling and screaming. Given the existence of precum (that droplet of clear fluid that shows up shortly after erection, which can contain sperm and is perfectly capable of making a girl pregnant) this simply is not a good way to avoid unwanted babies. The condom really needs to go on the dick before it touches the pussy; exceptions aren’t a good idea unless one wants a family.

Sorry, I just had to say that.

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.

How Not To Encourage Sexual Honesty

From another of the summer’s crop of hot new sex blogs, Bloggin’ Bitch [now defunct], comes this anecdote of supportive male conversation:

I just had a conversation with my man about swingers parties. Well I just had to ask. I really really want to go to one. Especially after reading some of the things over at Naked Loft Party. The reply: You really are a nympho little bitch aren’t you?

Yah baby, that’s the way to encourage your woman to share her fantasies with you!

Erotic Truth

What is it about this summer? Seems like good new sex blogs are sprouting up all over. This one’s called Erotic Truth [since gone defunct] and it’s a multi-author blog with lots of posts, all of them quite explicit and interesting.

You know that too-common complaint women have about some guy who tried to get them to do anal sex by “accidentally” just trying to slip it in when they weren’t expecting it? Well, one of the early posts on Erotic Truth is a very graphic, very bad example:

My first time was somewhat of an accident (or so he says). Scott and I are in the shower at his older cousins house doing the nasty. Little tub, and a shower curtain hanging from the ceiling. I am bent over, ass in the air (as usual) and he is fucking me harder than a raped ape. Suddenly he pulls out and with all the fucking force one man could muster he rams it into my ass. Shower curtain flies off, I scream…tears well in my eyes…ass bleeds. I was like WHAT THE HELL were you thinking about? He looks back at me as if I am on drugs and says…what? What? you stupid fucking waste of skin….you just rammed a good sized piece of meat into my virgin asshole. He’s like”I did?” YOU COULDNT TELL? No says he…..it felt just like the other hole. Alrighty then, either my pussy is so tight it feels like an ass or my ass is loose enough to feel like a pussy. Either way, he did not earn brownie points that day. Assfuck.

A gentleman, adept navigator, and credit to his gender. Not.

Fun With Twiddly Bits

There’s a fun new sex blog on the block – Twiddly Bits, being “The Ramblings of a Very Horny Woman.” She and her husband like to play:

So, in accordance with our plan, when it was time for us all to retire for the evening, I asked A, “You have a choice. Whatever you decide is fine with us; we won’t be offended either way. We have a Queen-sized air mattress which you can sleep on out here or, you’re welcome to share our bed with us.” She chose to share our bed! Yay!

We all got cleaned up for bed (ie. brushing teeth, etc.) and A &amp I snuggled up on either side of P under the covers. We chatted a bit and after a while I reached for P’s cock. Well, surprise! A’s hand was already there! No wonder he seemed a little “out of” the conversation! LOL Things proceeded from there – it’s been a while so the details are fuzzy – but I remember sucking on A’s ample bosom and playing with her sensitive nipples and then she slid over to take P’s cock in her mouth. P twisted around to tongue my pussy, so I figured what the hell? and dove into her muff.

Hers is completely different from mine. Her labia are much smaller than mine and, while she also has a piercing, she’s built such that a vertical piercing works better for her. Her pussy was very sweet, not musky at all, and quite wet already. *yum*

Her Desires

I remonstrate with you, gentle readers, for allowing me to run a sex blog all this time without ever telling me about Her Desires. It’s an excellent sex blog, very personal and extremely well written, and it’s been going since 1999! And I’ve never seen it before. If Vikki hadn’t said kind things about me a few days ago, only the gods on High Olympus know how much longer she would have escaped my notice.

Well worth your time. I’m off to read through her archives.

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:

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Do You Suppose it Tickles?

And Speaking of Degradation Of Women…

Since I’m already in trouble for posting a story about the degradation of women without including a bunch of condemnatory hand-wringing, this might be as good a time as any to share these disturbing images from a scanned Japanese video tape wrapper. When it comes to porn, the Japanese do some very strange things:

And a slight variation on the theme:

In case anybody is wondering, no, I’m not hugely turned on by the paint-ball escapade, nor with these grotesque images of a distorted female face. However, the common theme (and I shouldn’t think I’d need to say this on a sex blog, but from time to time it seems I do) is that what consenting adults do to get hot is their own damn business. ErosBlog isn’t in the business of condemning anything in that category, although there are some things you won’t see here simply because your host has a weak stomach.

RealDoll Cannon Fodder In The RSS Wars

I know, because daily I read and mostly fail to comprehend Scripting News, that there’s some sort of techie war-for-hearts-and-minds going on over RSS and all those other perplexing abbreviations having to do with syndication. Someone’s ox is being gored, and Winer and Ev and Google and the BlogSpot people are in it up to their ears, and all I know for sure is that my pathetic RSS headline feed is probably funky when it’s not downright broken, and that I can’t put any content in my feed at all because my blogging software doesn’t know the difference between properly formed XML and the steaming putrid droppings of Thor’s middle chariot goat. (I’m talking about the mean one, Blitzen, who, with his brother Donner, later put on some fake antlers and got a job with Santa Claus. I am not making this up.) Oh yeah, and there’s something afoot that’s somehow related to all of this (well, not related to the reindeer impersonators so far as I know) called Echo, which is so horrible that Adam Curry has offered to pay ten thousand clams to some assortment of individuals or entities, if they will just display good taste by ignoring and failing to support this Echo business, whatever it is.

Confused yet? Good. Welcome to the club. We’re just getting to the good part.

So here I am, smurfing happily down the trail between the smurfberry bushes following a trail of Smurfette’s undergarmets, when I make this post here suggesting that some rich benefactor give Violet Blue the ten thousand clams she needs to have a RealDoll orgy and write home about it.

Little did I know that I’d wandered into the crossfire of the RSS wars.

Comes now Dan Lyke over at Flutterby, who for some reason I haven’t been reading lately even though he very kindly in his comments way back when this was a wee bitty baby sex blog, and offers up this brilliant idea: Why not get Adam to put his ten thousand clams toward Violet Blue’s noble social experiment?

I don’t have a dog in this RSS/Echo fight, and I’m clearly not smart enough to have an opinion as to how all that should come out. But I know what I know. And what I know is, I really want four guys with names on their shirts to show up at Violet Blue’s apartment at seven in the morning with two huge packing crates full of carefully packaged Real Doll. And a five gallon bucket of Liquid Silk, to go, complete with electric immersion heater. So I’m getting solidly behind Dan Lyke’s proposal.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Violet Blue's RealDoll Fantasy
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Improve the Taste of Your Semen!

It will come as no surprise to the veteran sex blog surfer that there are folks out there selling powders and pills that are supposed to improve the flavor of male semen. But, thanks to Adam Curry and the United States Patent Office, we now have details about one such product, Patent #6485773, including a recipe and a description of the oh-so-scientific methods used to perfect it.

First the recipe, which boils down to “eat more fruit”:

38-41%              Freeze-dried Pineapple Juice
12-14%              Freeze-dried Banana Powder
7-9%                Freeze-dried Broccoli Powder
5-7%                Freeze-dried Celery Powder
5-7%                Freeze-dried Strawberry or
                        Cherry Juice Powder
5-7%                Cinnamon Powder
5.5% up to 1143 mg  Calcium Powder
1.9% up to 400 mg   Magnesium Powder
1.2-2%              Ginger root Powder
1.2-2%              Nutmeg Powder
1.0% up to 200 mg   Creatine Powder
.5% up to 100 mg    Zinc AAC 20%
up to 30 mg         Selenium AAC 0.2%
up to 6 mg          Vitamin E
up to 2.5 mg        Vitamin B6
up to .5 mg         Vitamin B12
Total: 21-22 grams - in Powder

And here’s how they figured it out:

During the research and development phase of this invention, it was discovered that pineapple juice and broccoli were only slightly effective in improving semen taste, regardless how much of either or both were ingested. As a result, powder concentrates of both ingredients were tested, with only slightly better results. Finally, freeze-dried forms of these same ingredients were tried with significantly improved results. As certain other fruits and vegetables were also somewhat effective in improving taste results, banana, celery, and strawberry/cherry were also ultimately selected and added to the formulation. The cumulative effects of these five ingredients in freeze-dried form produced greatly improved semen-taste results. Further research and testing resulted in discovering that three specific spices (Ginger, Cinnamon, and Nutmeg) were successful in neutralizing the generally salty/bitter taste usually attributed to the male ejaculate. As a result, these three spices were also added to the invention formulation in optimal ratios, as determined during our research and development.
…
Following this, marketing testing began with 27 local couples of different ages, races, and health regimens (e.g. smokers/non-smokers, drinkers/non-drinkers, healthy/not-so-healthy lifestyles and diets). Questionnaires were created and used for data collection by said couples and, after several months, the data was examined. The results were highly positive, clearly indicating that regardless of the lifestyles of the couples, significant semen-taste improvement was experienced by all in the market-test group. Subsequent to this, the product was placed on the market where after thousands of orders and with a 100% Money-back Guarantee, less than 1.5% return of product has been experienced.

I really love that last line. I can see the letter now: “Dear Sir: I would like a refund for your semen taste-improving product. It does not work. My cum still tastes nasty. Sincerely, your customer.”

Do You Suppose it Tickles?

The more vocal advocates for breast feeding argue that it’s an act that’s utterly without sexual significance, and that the sexual iconography of the exposed female breast is somehow destroyed by the proximity of a hungry infant. If they’re right, the following story has no place on a sex blog.

But who cares? This is just too deliciously kinky and European:

Woman who nursed puppies has no regrets

A young Norwegian mother who took a litter of puppies to her own breast when her dog died giving birth remains proud of her unusual move.

…

The drama began Friday November 8 when Skiaker’s Canarian Warren Hound, named Aida, started giving birth to a litter of 14 puppies. Suddenly the puppies stopped coming and the next stop was the vet’s office.

In the end, both Aida and three of the puppies died, while another three died later.

Those that survived were in desperate need of nourishment, and that’s when Skiaker impulsively took them to her breast. She fed them over that first weekend, until surrogate mother dogs could be found to take over.

Today, the eight surviving puppies (four males and four females) are back in the Skiaker’s home and in good health. So is baby Emil, now five months old and happy to play with his canine comrades in the Skiakers’ living room.

Deep in your heart you know that the video (if there were a video) of a blonde Norwegian lady breastfeeding puppies would sell for big bucks on Ebay.

Brothers Under the Hair

Dr. Menlo, it turns out, has a covert surveillance portraitist concealed in the ErosBlog compound. (This would also explain the funny looking spot in the Hydrangea bushes with all the black cigarette butts and empty oil paint tubes on the ground.) Thus was Dr. Menlo able to publish this never-before-seen expose view of an editorial meeting at a sex blog:

Now, back to the serious business of publishing.

Later update: This is, of course, Nymphs and Satyr by William-Adolphe Bouguereau.

Quaint Country Sayings

Said to be from the north of England, your agrarian aphorism for the day is “Old enough to bleed, old enough to butcher.” Referring, of course, to the idea that a woman who is old enough to menstruate is old enough to have sex.

There aren’t enough fingers and toes to enumerate all the ways in which that aphorism strikes modern sensibilities as politically incorrect. But this sex blog is on record as being, at least, concerned by the fact that our society attempts to condemn sexually adult young people to years of sexless frustration. It’s worth remembering that this attempt is not universal, nor even particularly common, across a greater spectrum of human societies.

AOL Kills Litter Of Puppies!

This is only marginally on topic for a sex blog, but the headline was impossible to resist. And it does appear that the ridiculous and puppy-fatal rule in question may be related to AOL’s overall attempt to look family-friendly (i.e., anti-sex). If nothing else, this serves as a demonstration that failure to get on the Clue Train is fatal to puppies and other living things. From this web page (which probably won’t be there much longer):

AOL has a rule in the fine print that says that we must NOT put a web link into any email!! Yep – it’s there in the fine print. Take a look.

Well I had our website ( www.amrt.net ) on the bottom of my email and someone ratted me out – saying they found the amrt.net website “offensive” – this is the site for dogs and cats in animal shelters – not a porn site.

So AOL went in and changed my password. Oh yes they sent me an email explaining why they had changed my password. But I never got that email – because they had changed my password. And I never got the email that told me a litter of puppies needed out of the Downey shelter NOW. And thanks to AOL those puppies died that night.

Ouch.

Listen Up, You Perverts!

Your visits to this humble sex blog are most welcome. But Radosh says perverts like you may not have his CD player.

It’s OK, though…the CD player does not work anyway.

The (Not Gay) Sex Blog?

For a sex blog, ErosBlog is pretty inexorably heterosexual. But, um, like, that stuff that they do, that’s sex too, right? Doesn’t seem fair to just ignore it.

As a token gesture, then, here’s a link to bj’s gay porno-crazed ramblings. It’s a quality sex blog.

But Do You Have To Check Them Through To Your Destination?

Alert readers will have noticed the recent appearance on the sex blog list of Pornblography, a fun new blog [since gone defunct] that’s all about the movers and shakers in the porn biz. Frankly, to an outsider it’s just a bit bewildering — these people are not most of them household names, although they will be familiar in some cases to heavy porn consumers and regular readers of Adult Video News, the New York Times of the adult entertainment industry. But it’s a delightful and eye-opening read all the same. Do you know what a suitcase pimp is? Nope, neither did your humble scribe. It turns out:

A “Suitcase Pimp” is the industry term for any boyfriend or husband of a porn chick. They are often, but not always, jobless….

Suitcase Pimps can usually be seen carrying the bags of the actresses when they arrive on a set (hence the term Suitcase), and they are often to be found on the cell phone handling the business affairs of the girls (i.e. “pimping” them out to whichever producer will pay the most money for a scene). This activity takes place much to the consternation of various film producers and directors, who would MUCH rather deal with the porno chicks themselves, for various reasons.

Carly, who writes Pornblography, also has great taste, having averred that ErosBlog “fucking rocks”. Thanks Carly!

The Uses Of Pornography

Debra Hyde at Pursed Lips has an important discussion [link has unfortunately vanished] about the difficulty of discussing appalling abuses that have a sexual component. It’s a real problem for this blog.

Anyone who has a rich fantasy life can find an erotic component in almost any tale of sexual atrocity. And, since horror is often an unwelcome emotion, the temptation to eroticize horrific stories by translating them into more palatable fantasy terms can be overwhelming. The downside is that the story itself is often trivialized in the process — if one gets too busy picturing Uday Hussein’s pony girls in the mind’s eye, one could forget to empathize sufficiently with their terror, shame, and humiliation. Worse, one could forget to be outraged by Uday’s behavior.

For this reason, sexual atrocities are featured much less often on this blog than they might be. It’s unseemly, at best, to treat actual human suffering as mere fodder for an erotic fantasy — and almost any discussion of real world sexual suffering in the context of this blog is subject to that risk. And yet, having a category of stories about sex be off limits to a sex blog is, itself, rather perverse.

Debrah’s article suggests a path through the maze. She acknowledges, first, the impossibility of discussing such events without the discussion having a pornographic quality. But then she points out that pornography is not always erotic, having a long history as a protest and propaganda tool aimed at political change. And she suggests that we not shrink from such uses of pornography, but rather embrace its power to incite moral outrage. She’s a wise woman.

That’s a lot of preamble for a short block quote about a professional government rapist. Perhaps if Jonah Goldberg had read Debra’s blog, he would have managed a little less flippancy in this story:

There are some professions American colleges simply don’t prepare you for. Consider Aziz Salih Ahmed. He works for the Iraqi government. His technical specialty? He’s a “violator of women’s honor,” according to his Iraqi identity card. In other words, he rapes women. Presumably he likes it. But he does it on the government’s dime so whether he likes brutally raping women or not, he’s probably good at it or at least he’s good enough for government work.

Bring on the Geritol

First of all, apologies are in order. This blog has been nearly imageless, and/or monochrome, for far too long. In the nature of restitution, please accept this nice girl working on her personal hygiene.

Image “borrowed” from deep in the archives of the Sensual Liberation Army, which is herewith added to the sex blog roll. Thanks!

And now for the pathetic part. Folks, Bacchus is officially getting old. For, while gazing at this raven-haired and oh-so-damp callipygian beauty, what to his wandering mind should appear but the following unworthy thought:

“Nice shower tiles. I want a shower like that.”

Sigh.

P.S.: This photograph provides additional evidence that Anil was right.

Bring Your Pitons And A Gallon Of Stolichnaya

Jessica Parker over at BlogAnon has announced her intention to reclaim the number one Google search results spot for the phrase “sex blog” which she apparently had at some point back before Bacchus got into the sex blogging line.

Now, Jessica evidently has more web designing talent in her left nipple than Bacchus could ever hope to possess, plus she has some natural (and they do look deliciously natural) advantages, which she proffers up most fetchingly at the top of her blog as the “#1 Blog Boobies on the Web.” (Bacchus is way too much of a gentleman to argue, even if he was inclined to do so, which he is not, even though he has seem some other fine candidates that discretion and an avoidance of invidious comparisons prevents him from identifying with particularity.)

So anyways, BlogAnon is a damn fine read and goes on the linklist. But about that #1 Google spot for “sex blog”? Not gonna happen. As the dad says in Cheaper by the Dozen: “Over my dead body, and it will be quite a climb.” Bacchus fought and scratched for the magnificent twenty hits a day the number one spot delivers, and he’s not gonna give it up without a fight. Bring pitons and a helicopter for the photographers.

[2006 Update: Four years later, BlogAnon is long gone and the domain snapped up by a click farmer. In recent months Eros Blog has been swapping the number one spot with a defunct blog by one TwiddlyBits. BlogAnon never did rescale those heights.]

Jessica has a secret weapon, though, in the form of this fine sex blog song to the tune of Tom Jone’s Sex Bomb:

Sex blog, sex blog
you’re a sex blog,
showing us your boobies
there’s no way you can go wrong
sex blog, sex blog
you’re a sex blog,
and baby you can turn me on

The Fleshlight: Better Living Through Technology

(Better than what? Fair question. Better than living with Mother Palm and her five daughters, by all accounts. Bacchus avidly and sincerely doubts that companionable ladies have anything to fear from this form of competition.)

Now, is that a backwards and indirect way to start a sex blog entry, or what? Enough pussyfooting (if the expression may be forgiven) around and beating about the bush. (Hmm, forgiveness for inapt expressions probably getting to be an impossible dream by now. Stay tuned, it only gets worse from here.)

The web is awash with tales of The Fleshlight — a male masturbation toy that apparently doesn’t suck. (Literally or figuratively — can we just stop noticing the inapt turns of phrase for a while? If Bacchus was a competent writer, he’d be getting paid for all this.)

Anyway, this toy is all over the web, has been since about 1998 or so, but given the nature of things it’s tough to find a guy who will admit to having tried it. (Personal reviews in the comments are hereby solicited.) However, many of the reviews are positive. For instance:

About a week later it arrived. I was instantly worried when I felt how heavy it was, but that ended up being a plus. Once it was unwrapped, I ran a finger over the pink lips. The feeling was soft and malleable, “Real Feel Super Skin” is simply amazing. It’s light mild sent of vanilla was pleasant and not over powering. I followed the easy instructions and got to work. A few moments later I was moaning in ecstasy.

Is the “Fleshlight” better than the real thing? No. But if you had the real thing, you wouldn’t be reading this. Is it better then your hand? Oh yes! I couldn’t believe how good it felt, so close to the real thing, but no need to buy flowers.

The folks over at Clean Sheets were a little more reserved in their endorsement, but they still gave this item a thumb (or something) up:

Our reviewer’s first impressions of the product were “I GOTTA have this” and “very unusual feel.” Said one man; “The appearance was relatively life-like. The vanilla scent was oddly pleasing.” Indeed. Closing your eyes and touching the material is eerie; like touching the real thing. One man said “Closest thing to the real thing I ever felt.”

In use, they seem to cull all kinds of honors. “With the right lube, the feel is very nice.”

Overall, this product received very handsome commentary: “Not as good as the real thing but definitely better than your hand. I like using it while watching videos.” “This is tons of fun and feels great. It’s almost the perfect sex toy!”

Bacchus has not yet tried this device — it’s not exactly cheap, and there’s an “ick factor” (reported on by the folks at Nerve) that’s impossible to ignore. (However, even the Nerve reviewer appears to have enjoyed the Fleshlight once he, uhm, “screwed his courage to the sticking point” and got down to business.)

So: Any fans of this thing out there who want to tell us how it feels?

Good Shit

New addition to the sex blog list: Good Shit. It’s a graphics-heavy blog chock full of cheesecake, naked babes, and other sexy images like the one below.

Fun with Furries

This is too cute. From the twisted perverts (Bacchus means this only in the nicest possible way) over at BDSM Cafe we have Beanies in Bondage. Once again, Bacchus is not making this up.

Folks, this is why you read ErosBlog. Admit it, you know it’s true. While those other sex blogs (and most of the other blogs in the blogosphere) were linking to the done-to-death Bondage Barbie story, Bacchus went out and slaved away over hot link lists until he could bring you a hogtied furry stuffed bear wearing a ring gag and and a blindfold. Why you would want to see this remains a mystery, but at least it’s different.

This One Is For Acidman

Since Acidman has decided that broken metabolisms are worthy of derision this week, Bacchus figured it was only fair to post a poster girl just for him!

Acidman, this cutiepie is waiting eagerly for you in your bedroom!

Acidman, of course, cannot offend…for he is Acidman. But it’s amusing to catch him in a moment of pure ignorant fucktard bloviation, for which Bacchus has gently excoriated him in his (Acidman’s) own blog comments.

UPDATE: A little bird told me the lady pictured might be The Supreme Bitch. But I don’t think so — she tops Acidman (now there’s a thought experiment worthy of a sex blog) with her claim that the problem with fat people (or “fatties” as she so charmingly calls them) is “sloth and laziness and a worthless, sedentary lifestyle.” Of course, she is The Supreme Bitch. A pity she didn’t get the memo about the difference between bitchy and ignorant.

Cantabulate THIS!

Oh yes, and speaking of the Group Captain, he is inviting all of the loveliest ladies in blogdom to, and I am not making this up, “cantabulate” his “gruntfuttocks”.

Now, Bacchus is not sure, but he suspects this is an invitation to participate in some odd variation of the infamous “English Vice.”

Or perhaps not. At any rate, it sounds very much like something that warrants this mention on a sex blog.

To Find A Sex Blog

Gentle readers, although this sex blog is not yet a month old, it’s time for that ever-popular favorite, the sharing of odd search queries. Prompting this exercise is today’s new instant classic:

rape my cameltoe

I don’t know whether to be proud that, as of this writing, ErosBlog does not even appear on the first page of Google search results for this query — or dismayed that it appears at all.

Also rather fun is:

bondage rooms for rent

Now, the neat thing here is, Erosblog appears on BLOODY PAGE FOURTEEN of the Google search results. Somebody paged through a hundred and forty fricken’ results, apparently looking for a quiet place with a cage and some overhead rafters and a bondage bench where they could spank their sweetheart in privacy (paying by the hour) while avoiding the watchful eyes of Mom and Dad. Is this an entrepreneurial opportunity for some clever landlord with an extra truckload of soundproofing panels?

Is This Sex Blog Thing On?

Can’t have a sex blog without some gratuitous public nudity:

Thanks Instapundit for the link!