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The Sex Blog Of Record
Wednesday, November 22nd, 2023 -- by Bacchus
This post is unabashed propaganda for the proposition that you should always do whatever it takes to get your rocks off before going to that stressful turkey dinner with the family who’s gonna give you grief about your politics or your lifestyle. In Holiday Pit Stop: Don’t Go To The Folks Until You’ve Cum At Least Once, that’s exactly what Yasmin and Will decide to do, after a fast mutual pickup at their local bar:
For once the marketing copy for this porn shoot needs no elaboration:
Yasmin and Will meet in a bar. They both had the same needs before heading off to their families for a night of family fighting, too much turkey and of course, the endless guilt trip about being single during the Holidays. They both wanted that one cocktail that takes the edge off and keeps your sister from saying you drink too much.
Soon though their quick drink and a little commiserating leads to both of them returning to Will’s hotel room for a little pre-dinner fucking.
There’s nothing like fucking a stranger you’ll never see again right before going to a family gathering! The secret is enough to keep you smiling all the way to the pie.
Via TS Seduction at Kink.com.
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Wednesday, November 25th, 2020 -- by Bacchus
Tomorrow is Turkey Day. I hope you didn’t let Barry help prep the bird for cooking:
Cartoon has been “internet refactored” from a holiday card by UK cartoonist Jamie Charteris, which I could not find in good-image condition:
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Thursday, November 23rd, 2017 -- by Bacchus
I’m going to say there is a reason that turkey replaced giant lobsters as the go-to centerpiece at fine holiday dinner parties. You see, this started out as a dinner for twelve, before the sea monster went on a guest-eating rampage and devoured half the party:
Happy Thanksgiving!
Image credit: The Ideal Cook Book (1902). (Motto, from frontispiece: “There is no higher art than that which tends toward the improvement of human food.”)
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Thursday, November 28th, 2013 -- by Bacchus
A post yesterday at Erotic Scribes (which is the house blog for Sssh.com) examined in some detail the limited potential for Thanksgiving to be a sexy holiday. The Puritans of the Plymouth Colony, of course, did not have much truck with sexytimes; or at least, that was official policy. I was therefore amused that Erotic Scribes came up with a rather salacious account of a Puritan orgy in what sounds like an otherwise fairly dry history, a book called Plymouth Colony: Its History and Its People, 1620-1691. Here’s how it (they) all went down:
Hands-down one of the wildest accounts involved a sex party with one babe, four dudes — and lots of complications. The scene was Hatch house where young miss Lydia Hatch seemed to be the instigator, with her brother Jonathan there for fun too. Joining them were Edward Mitchell, Edward Preston and John Keene.
The only woman with a party of four men — including her brother, Lydia Hatch’s secret party hit a hitch. One guy snitched.
First, Lydia wanted Ed Mitchell to “abuse her body,” but he was up for “lude and sodomiticall practices” with Ed Preston. Meanwhile, Ed Preston was “pressing” John Keene for some action. So Lydia first ended up in bed with her brother Jon while Ed Mitchell got it on with Ed Preston who gave up on John Keene “because he resisted the temptacon.” Finally, Lydia got to do her deed with Ed Mitchell. For participating in what wase the only Puritan orgy (at least the only one found out) the partiers ended up getting a run-of-the-mill whipping — all except for John Keene, who had ratted them all out, but was found “faulty” for watching it all.
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Thursday, November 25th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Now this looks like it would be a kinky sort of feast to remember:
I wonder, would it be unseemly to volunteer to help with the basting?
Via Bondage Blog, where there’s ever so much more.
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Wednesday, November 26th, 2008 -- by Aphrodite
Since Google has decided ‘most all sex is bad, I wonder how long it will be before threat levels will be assigned to adult content. Someone came up with a graphic for the FCC from way back when, that’s okay for now:
(A happy Thanksgiving to our American readers, too!)
Thursday, November 22nd, 2007 -- by Aphrodite
I’ve had this video for awhile now, just waiting to share it today, but I can’t upload it. Lucky for me I found a version online, and viewable online. It’s pretty much pure 1970’s cheese….and the guys aren’t so easy on the eyes, but once you’re past that the fun begins. Enjoy Apache, and Happy Thanksgiving to everybody!
Thursday, November 22nd, 2007 -- by Bacchus
Oh, what the hell, might as well surrender completely to the Thanksgiving Day foolishness:
I’d make another turkey stuffing joke, but sadly (for them) most smilies don’t come equipped with anything to stuff with.
Wednesday, November 21st, 2007 -- by Bacchus
So, it’s Thanksgiving Eve. Hopefully tomorrow will be for you a pleasant day of food, family, fun, and relaxation. Perhaps as you tuck into your turkey and stuffing and gravy, you can pause to wonder:
“What’s the stuff in stuffing, actually? Exactly what has been stuffed in my bird?”
Some photos to help you while you ponder:
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, November 23rd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
It’s a feast day, what better picture than of a well-prepared feast?
Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 13th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
This bit of blowjob erotica may (he emphasized, may) be by an artist named Fendi, and may date to the 1830s. That’s based on a filename of dubious value, so you pays your money and you takes your chances:
And yes, you’re getting a lot of pictures lately. For various reasons, my blog-surfing time is at a minimum right now, and it won’t be getting any bigger until after Thanksgiving. So meanwhile, it’s to be a steady diet of visual filler from my extensive collection of filez. I’ll do my best to make it entertaining.
Monday, November 28th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
I went down to see the oldsters for Thanksgiving again this year, but thankfully I didn’t have a repeat of last year’s fun, which started great but ended rotten. I did see a series of billboards that were funny. First I thought they all had the same misspelling…..but then I decided that was too negative. It’s loads more fun to think they’re for real. The signs all had some variation on this message:
Dick’s Body Shop
24 hour Toe Service
What service do your toes want from Dick? :-)
(What have I been doing with myself? New job, new apartment, lots of melodrama in getting both. Too much traveling. Not enough sexy stuff!)
Thursday, November 24th, 2005 -- by Bacchus
What could be sexier today than a pretty woman, not overdressed, brushing warm butter onto the Thanksgiving Turkey?
I think I could help her with her task. Admittedly, if I had the butter brush in my hand, there’s a couple of places I’d like to brush that wouldn’t be going in the oven later….
Perhaps that sort of thinking is why The Nymph is always throwing me out of her kitchen.
Which reminds me, I’m under strict instructions to remember to wake The Nymph in time for her to get our turkey in the oven. I’d better go do that now.
Life is good!
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Wednesday, June 1st, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
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.
Wednesday, January 26th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
I am so not a porn writer, just to warn anybody who hasn’t read the first two parts yet…..but some readers are still interested in this tale, so I’ll continue to tell.
Part 1
Part 2
R called my folks’ house Thanksgiving evening to tell me that some problem had sprung up and he’d need to go back to Washington sooner than he’d planned…like, tomorrow. I agreed to meet him early Friday morning, even though I was unsure of what I wanted out of our re-established relationship, and less sure of what he wanted.
Over breakfast, R tells me that it’s been alot of fun, reconnecting with me, and especially venting some of those teenage fantasies…..But…..the pause draws out uncomfortably. Finally he looks up from his coffee and finishes, “But that’s not how I am now. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show you how I am now.”
Intrigued, I reply, “Well, how’s about you tell me how you are now?” His glum face furrows into a frown. “Telling is even harder. [another long pause] If we lived closer, and if I didn’t have to travel so goddamn much, it might be worth trying…..”
Trying what? I wonder. Instead, I say, “You know me R, I’ll try anything once, and if it doesn’t kill me, I might just try it again.” Expecting him to smile at that, I’m instead baffled by an expression of thoughtful pondering, followed after another long pause by, “Mmmm…..yes, you’re still adventurous…..”
Finally R emerges from his thinking and says, “If you’re game, I’ll put on my thinking cap and see what I come up with.”
My curiosity is just about killing me at this point, so even though some small corner of my brain is going, WTF is this all about?, I reply, “Hell yes I’m game. Just give me enough notice to juggle my work.”
The conversation then turns to other topics. As we’re leaving the restaurant, R asks me to say goodbye to my family for him. Then, he pulls me to him, opening his leather jacket as if to enfold me in it. Our goodbye kiss starts innocently enough, but quickly becomes passionate, and almost involuntarily I hungrily press my hips forward. R shifts slightly, still kissing me….brings a hand up to my breast….and tweaks my nipple, hard. My gasp of surprise and pain breaks the kiss, and I see a glint of something far beyond impish in R’s eyes. He pulls away, saying, “I’ll let you know what I come up with.”
As I watch his SUV move away I realize I’m soaking wet, and desperate for a fuck….almost as if R hadn’t slaked my hunger at all.
Tuesday, January 11th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
[Continuing my story….. Here’s the first part, Unexpected Reunion, in case you haven’t read it.]
I awaken the next morning in a lingering, warm glow from R’s and my passion. I feel more rested and energized than I have in a long time….then I slip in to wondering what will happen next between us. Was that it–one night of hot sex–or is there more in store for us? If there is, what will it be like? Reliving the crazed teenage lust was fun, but that won’t–can’t–last.
As I’m sitting at the kitchen table, having a cup of coffee and talking with Mom, someone raps on the front door. It’s R.Mom knows some stuff about the unrequited feelings between R and me in school, and she’s been kind of charmed by him too. Now he stands at her door, well-dressed and smiling that smile, loosely holding two white roses in one hand. After they hug, he presents her with one rose, then sees me and his smile widens. R asks Mom for permission to see me, which she enthusiastically gives. He steps in to the kitchen and offers me the other rose. It’s exquisite in both appearance and heady scent.
In response to my mother’s questions regarding how he knew I was home, R coolly covers our chance meeting at the store. He makes the entire encounter sound totally innocent, as if his interest is solely in re-establishing friendship with a longlost bud…but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye that I wonder if my mom sees. Talk then turns to catching up between them…..like any well-meaning mom, she’s probably thinking matchmaker thoughts and a lot of the talk focuses on what he’s doing, and how well he’s doing at it. Turns out he’s doing quite well as an executive for a fairly big tech company. Not Mr. Millionaire himself, but he’s well-paid and he has a lot of corporate perks available to him. As they talk, I observe…..and see that, while R’s being genuine, it’s also obvious he’s mastered a lot of people-handling skills.
R’s visit concludes with asking my mom to take some of the family’s already-limited time with me over the Thanksgiving weekend so that he and I can catch up. Utterly charmed, she says of course he can spend time with me. R turns to me, green eyes ablaze with impish sparks, and asks if I’d like to go for a walk with him tonight. I agree, and the date is set.
——-
What a “next move”! I think to myself afterward. I decide to try to ride the youthful-lust energy for one more night. When R appears precisely at the appointed time, he sees me in my best attempt to recapture my typical high-school appearance…..soft flannel shirt, tight jeans, my hair caught in a ponytail (much shorter than back then), even my old high-tops (thanks, Mom, for not throwing them out!)….a sharp intake of breath signals a momentary lapse in his poise. My composure is similarly thrown off. He hadn’t used the “wayback machine” like I did, but is just gorgeous in a simple white turtleneck sweater, light blue jeans, and black leather jacket.
As we stroll to the park, I notice that few people are out….it’s a cool night for the locals. R and I aren’t saying much–more general talk, filling in all those missing years–but he’s taken my hand, and caresses it as we walk. I sense real caring from R, and an undercurrent of passion, in both his touch and talk. Forgetting my decision to let him lead, I impetuously steer us to “The Wet Spot”….a small clearing in an overgrown corner of the park, long rumored to be a hot spot used by teens and grownups alike for furtive encounters.
I stop in front of it and turn to face him with my question: “You ever make it with anybody here?” The unexpected challenge brings a lovely flush to his lightly-tanned face, and as he tries to stammer a reply I press on with, “Ya want to tonight?” and crawl in without waiting for his reply.
He follows immediately, surprising me with a bite on the ass as he does. I yip, then wheel around so that he can see my face as I peel off my clothes. The moonlight lends its soft glow to my skin, and R greedily drinks in the sight. At last I’m naked, cool but comfortable in the night air….and R finally breaks his spell with a murmur of something like, “You’re better than I dreamed …” Then his warm hands are upon me, stroking and exploring in a way that seems almost worshipful to me. Awed, I slip out of the teenage tart role and enjoy his attentions.
With a muffled growl, R abruptly changes the pace, pulling me to him hard, then kneading my ass as his tongue fills my mouth. His taste and scent fill my head…the heat of his erection warms my belly even through his jeans…..and we’re back in passion’s thrall, squeezing, sucking, tasting, teasing….exploring and riding the heat more fully than we did the previous night.
After getting my first taste of R’s cock and fluids, bringing him almost to orgasm with my teasing tongue, he pushes me down onto my hands and knees, then moves behind me for entry. We both groan at the immediate pleasure of filling and being filled….with just a few flicks to my clit and a couple of pumps, I’m shuddering with the intensity of my orgasm. R’s only a few moments behind me, gasping as my vagina squeezes around him. I collapse to the ground, R blanketing me, both lost in the twilight of pleasure.
Finally, R chuckles and pulls out. “You’re quite the sexpot, sweetie, but this carelessness really isn’t a good idea.” I laugh and agree, and we have the sex-history and protection talks. Even though tests taken during his marriage some years back indicated he has a low sperm count, we agree that tempting fate isn’t smart, and work out a contraceptive arrangement. Through the conversation our hands continue to explore each other’s bodies, ultimately causing our talk to falter.
R’s incessant pinching and teasing of my nipples is enough to bring me to another, small orgasm. I decide to reward him in kind, with a blow job….and end up in the most amazing 69 session I’ve had. R comes first, shooting a decent amount of fluid for having already come once. The lull in action while he orgasms serves only as a tortuous tease for me….so when R resumes his oral attentions I’m easily brought off again by his hot, deft tongue. He barely allows me to climax before rolling atop me and filling me again with his still-hard member, pounding me as wave after wave of pleasure pours through me…..finally ending in his orgasm.
Much later, as we’re walking back to my parents’ house, we agree to not get together the next day…..but it’s clearly understood that we’re both enjoying this….whatever it is, and want it to continue.
Monday, January 10th, 2005 -- by Aphrodite
I’m gonna borrow the DirtyTalkinGirl’s serial format for telling this story, so that I can focus on the bits and pieces of it, and so that it won’t be one huge blog splat to read through. (I see she’s started another series, the vixen. :D ) I also thought about pulling out the best parts of our story, and creating a story out of them….maybe a site like Sssh would buy it….but my writing needs lots of improvement before I’d be able to sell something! Anyway, I promised to tell the story to you first, so here we go…
Looking back over the ErosBlog archives, I see that I didn’t provide alot of detail about our Thanksgiving adventures. Since the story really starts there, that’s where I’ll begin today.
R was probably my first serious romantic interest. My hormones were just starting to percolate when he started talking to me in school. It was all innocuous stuff, sports and homework and music, but he was friendly, and cute….and I noticed that I was feeling new things, caused by his attention. Even though I liked talking to him, I’d often get distracted by his appearance, or his yummy smell…..that happened pretty regularly when we’d be doing something together. The new twitchings and longings happened more when I’d think about him, especially as I was lying awake in bed at night, trying to fall asleep. It was a mystifying, maddening, yet delicious torture! As I said in my first entry about R, we never were able to hook up throughout school, though we both wanted to. And we both thought about it a lot over the years. That made our unexpected reunion pretty predictable….and explosive.
So, I’m standing there in the store trying to decide what liquor to buy, when the jangle of the bell announces someone’s entrance. I hadn’t been paying any attention to that before, but this time I look up, and my heart flips. It looks like R!! Nah, it couldn’t be, I tell myself, he wanted to get away from this hick town as bad as I did. It’s wishful thinking. But I couldn’t pull my eyes away….the walk, the hair….it’s him. At about the same moment I decide to approach him, R turns and sees me looking at him. He seems to have none of my doubts–his face blooms into the big, happy smile that I’d burned into my mind all those years ago. Seeing that dissolved my uncertainty that it was really him….and suggested he was as happy to see me as I was him.
Our purchases completed while making reconnecting chit-chat, we step outside, and each of us exhales deeply. Neither wants to say goodbye, but who wants to make a move? Remembering how he liked my wackiness, I strike first. I say something like, “I so do not wanna go back to the oldsters yet. You got somewhere to be, or do you want to cruise with me?” He says that sounds like fun, and we choose his bigger SUV to drive around to all our old cruising places.
As he drives we’re still catching up on news and stuff, and I’m not paying a lot of attention to where we’re going until he stops the car. It’s Lover’s Lane (yes, that’s its real name), but it’s even better now because it’s just as deserted and the trees and bushes along the old curvy road are bigger…..and after he stops the car, R turns to me and softly says, “I never stopped thinking about you, or wanting to find you.” I answer by launching myself across the seat and delivering a kiss that tries to make up for all we hadn’t been able to say or do back in school.
He’s surprised but recovers almost immediately, and returns the kiss enthusiastically. Then we start giggling….then talking and kissing and giggling more, as we shed any lingering shyness and spill the things that remained unsaid for so long. Pretty soon, the talking slows……then the giggling follows suit, and our kisses become more….intense. They’ve all been intense, but it’s clear what we’re both wanting to happen next.
I begin to caress his body, stroking lower down his flanks each time as his enjoyment of my touch is obvious. He responds by grabbing both my breasts at once in typical high-school-hornboy fashion, which provokes an outburst of giggles that is smothered by hotter kisses, and gasps of pleasure from me as he massages my breasts. My hand dives to his crotch, and finds an ample reward. Even through the thick cloth of his jeans, I can tell he’s rock hard….and pretty large. He softly moans his pleasure at my strokes.
What happened next is kind of hazy in my mind. Somehow we shifted from the front seat to the back, and we’re going at it like two crazed teenagers–no taking clothes off except to uncover the bits that so crave attention, no safe-sex discussion or precautions, no what-happens-afterward talk, no attention to techniques and tricks–just heat and wet and the all-out explosion of pent-up passion. And I do explode, again and again…..R is very generously endowed in both length and girth, and he fills me and rides me hard, lasting a surprisingly long time before his orgasm overtakes him.
He remains inside me for a bit, as we catch our breath and regain our faculties…..neither of us seems embarrassed or uncomfortable with what just happened. Finally we separate, tidy ourselves up a bit, and with some more general, comfortable conversation, he drives me back to my car at the store parking lot. There, R gives me that big, irresistable smile again, along with another mind-melting kiss.
Once I get home and take a swig of the hooch I’d bought, I decide that since I had been such a forward lass, the next move would be up to him. I suspected it wouldn’t be long in, er, coming … and I was right.
Wednesday, December 8th, 2004 -- by Aphrodite
Having some steamy sex over Thanksgiving was great for me, but now I think I miss having a man around even more than ever. Not just for the sex, but mostly for the simple pleasures that I’d forgotten about. Cat over at Pussy Tales knows what I mean. She pegged one of my favorite things in her post he smells like yum:
and I know I’m not making ANY sense here but…that smell can be any smell of him…like shampoo or deodorant or after-shave or just that natural body smell…hmmm…that’s my favourite…that natural smell of a man…when he’s been working a bit too hard…or when he’s taken a long hot shower and his skin is fresh and tastes just like honey…he’s warm and tender and tastes SO yummy…
Girl, you are making loads of sense to me! Hooboy, do I ever miss the smell of a man! Sometimes I think they can be as bad as women about trying to cover their smells, although they do have less to obsess about, I guess.
While reading some news this morning, I came across another testament to people’s fascination with penises going way back. It’s a penis tree, although that’s really hard to see in this scaled-down picture:
The caption under the image (a Reuters image I found at Yahoo News) reads as follows:
An undated handout photograph shows the Massa Marittima mural in the Italian town Massa Marittima. At first glance the mural looks fairly similar to dozens of other medieval frescoes dotted across Tuscany, but a closer look at the spidery tree which dominates the centre of the painting shows its branches are covered in penises. Until now, it was assumed the phallus tree was a fertility symbol but according to a British-based expert, it is a actually a unique piece of political propaganda, commissioned by one Tuscan faction to sully the reputation of another.
The link will take you to a slightly larger version of the image…not large enough to see anything in sufficient detail, alas.
Hope all this makes up for my absence lately….trying to get ahead on some work, for reasons which I might be able to announce to y’all later today. :)
Thursday, November 25th, 2004 -- by Bacchus
Hey everyone — Unlike Aphrodite, I don’t have any good tales of Thanksgiving nookie to share. The Nymph has been fighting off a cold while gearing up to cook dinner for some of her relatives, so spare moments have been spent sleeping. But fear not — even sick, she always snuggles up to me in a most delightful way, like a promise of things to come.
Right now she’s snoring softly next to me, there’s a turkey thawing in the kitchen, the house is full of food and drink, and family is coming by later. How could life be better?
Thursday, November 25th, 2004 -- by Aphrodite
:D R and I got together again last night. His mom and my folks think it’s “sweet” that we found each other again, little do they know that on our walk last night we found a quiet spot and fucked each others brains out. Moonlight gives skin a beautiful glow…..
Anyway, here’s another Thanksgiving present. We didn’t exactly look like this, but the photo seems to capture some of the energy we had.
From Valery Bareta, whose site is currently down for maintenance. :(
Wednesday, November 24th, 2004 -- by Aphrodite
Hi all. Sorry I’ve been absent. At the last minute I decided to go home for Thanksgiving…..which meant alot of driving deep into Bible-belt land. I didn’t think I’d have much to blog about from here, but last night a longtime dream/fantasy came true.
There was this guy I’d had a crush on in sixth grade; he was cute and cocky and not afraid to be nice to us girls. I didn’t think he knew I existed…..but I found out later that he liked me too. But, I found that out at a bad time, because I was going with somebody else. When we broke up, he was going with somebody….but by the time they broke up, I was going with somebody again, and that’s how it went. We were good friends throughout high school but lost touch after that. Even though our families are still here, we never met up.
Until last night, anyway. I was at a store getting some booze to hide in my room, and in he walked. Not quite as blond as I remember, not as skinny, either, but still with his self-confident strut–and a nicely balding top of the head. Even better than the version of him that was part of alot of my college fantasies.
I immediately felt a rush of warmth to my nether regions, along with a telltale moistness between my legs. Then he turned, saw me, and got the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
Making a long story short, we’re both single right now, so……we had a real fun time last night, steaming up the windows of his SUV. I can’t think of a better person to have unleashed all my stored-up horniness on. No matter what happens around the dinner table tomorrow, it’s been the best Thanksgiving ever for me already. :D
And speaking of Thanksgivings, here’s a small token of my appreciation for my fellow sex-bloggers, erotica enthusiasts, and kinky kindred spirits:
Saturday, November 29th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
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”.
Thursday, November 27th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Shell is reprising her food porn turkey day utterances. Don’t miss her Things To Say At Thanksgiving:
Tying the legs together will keep the insides moist.
It’s a little dry, do you still want to eat it?
Just spread the legs and stuff it in!
You still have a little bit on your chin.
And so forth. It’s makin’ me hungry and I haven’t even had my morning coffee!
Wednesday, December 11th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
Those cute and cuddly poo-eating bunnies over at Silflay Hraka started up with the mangled Christmas songs right after Thanksgiving, and, as the song goes, “it doesn’t show signs of stopping.” Now they’ve come along with a bastardized Christmas song about sex:
Noelle was an underclassman in my senior year, and as Christmas approached her life got worse and worse, from the dirty carols point of view.
The first Noelle, the angels did lay
Was with certain poor shepherds on rough bales of hay;
She was poor and she was cheap, and she had great big teats,
On a cold winter’s night she was better than sheep.
Noelle, Noelle, Noelle, Noelle,
At sexual congress she did excel!
These guys give doggerel a bad name. Go visit!
Friday, November 29th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
Shocking Shell offers a list of things she says you can only say at Thanksgiving. Here are three to give you the, er, flavor:
2. Tying the legs together keeps the inside moist.
11. Just spread the legs open and stuff it in.
14. You still have a little bit on your chin.
Sunday, November 24th, 2002 -- by Bacchus
It’s been a busy weekend at ErosBlog headquarters, which explains the dearth of blog entries:
As you can see from the picture, the ErosBlog pre-Thanksgiving party got a little wild. What with one thing and another, production suffered. (Bacchus, on the other hand, did not suffer.)
The hard working staff nymphs who do much of the work around here put down their tools and loudly demanded quality time with Bacchus. Attempts were made to restore order, brisk spankings were delivered, and stern admonitions were made…all to no avail. The nymphs would not be denied, and in the end, the bacchanalia could not be averted.
If you believe all that, you have a promising future in Arizona oceanfront real estate. This much only is true: your humble scribe did in fact go for a pleasant hike with an actual unattached and not-obviously-crazy woman.
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