Give Them Something To Trans Panic About
Jubilee, Titan Of Joy, wants to make sure that boring people have a reason for their trans panic:
Transcript:
The most boring people in the world will be like “We don’t want trans people coming in our bathrooms!”
“What you should be worried about me coming in, is your spouses. I have a Cialis prescription and a vasectomy — it’s not the bathrooms that I’m coming in!”
And the original video caption was “Keep oppressing me, I’ll start a polycule with everyone’s spouse…”
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Father’s Day Giving
In the early days of the internet, posting unintentionally lewd and risqué church signs was a popular sport, but it declined after a series of so-called “church sign generators” allowed anyone to put any short message onto half a dozen generic church sign templates. The resulting flood of implausible sign images called the entire enterprise into disrepute.
But pastors never got better at being clever, and they never got any more worldly, so they kept posting “jokes” out front of their churches that were unintentionally (or perhaps sometimes even intentionally, who can say?) loaded with double entendre. And these days, with Google Street view, it’s sometimes at least possible to verify that the church in question exists, and that the signboard is real, and that the pastor in question attempts to post funny messages.
As much as I am inclined to agree with the comfortably-patriarchal sentiment that “the best gift a mother can give is time spent on her knees”, I wouldn’t have trusted the authenticity of the image without having been able to verify that the signboard for that church exists in the wild and had a different dumb joke on it when the Google photo car drove past.
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Swiving The Serving Wenches
Reflecting (after publication) on Saturday’s post about breeding kink in Greek mythology, I realized that my casual use of the word “swiving” might be a too-obscure English usage for the Erosblog audience, even if it ought to be clear enough in context. The most charitable thing that can be said for the word “swive” is that it’s a deeply obsolete English synonym for the word “fuck”, sharing an etymological basis from Old English with the word “swivel” (as you might well swivel your hips when you swive, at least if you’re doing it correctly).
But why do I know this word?
I spent some time worrying about that. The question niggled away for awhile in the back of my brain. I finally remembered learning the word in a salacious book I bought off a remainder table at a B. Dalton’s when I was in high school. The book was a bawdy retelling of the Arthurian tales from which (once I finally managed to soften the petrified wax of memory) I now recall learning two new vocabulary words: not only swive, but also fewmets (droppings of animal dung). The book was Rude Tales and Glorious: being the only true account of diverse feats of brawn and bawd performed by King Arthur and his Knights of the Table Round, by Nicolas Seare with spurious prefatory attribution to his equally-spurious ancestor Davydd ap Seare (New York, 1983).
In hindsight I’d call Rude Tales a fairly shallow dirtying-up of the famous Arthurian retellings in The Once And Future King by T. H. White. The Tales certainly are rude enough, with the words “swive” and “swiving” making at least a dozen appearances in fairly explicit contexts, thusly:
A right lusty young knight suggested that they settle the matter with a contest of the swiving of peasant girls. And with such good will was this offer accepted that several did grasp up serving wenches and begin to practise for the tournament…”
So now we all know together. Go forth and swive lustily!
PS: The word “swive” was seen once before here on ErosBlog, back in 2008, where it appeared in the poem A Satyre on Charles II by the scandalous poet John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, in the line “the sauciest prick that e’er did swive….”
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Heracles And The Fifty-Daughter Breeding
Over the weekend my learned friend Dr. Faustus called my attention to an alternate version of the myth of Heracles (who the Romans called Hercules) and the fifty daughters of Thespius. In the standard tale he slept with all fifty daughters on sequential nights (and got a son on each of them, truly was he a mighty hero) but in the alternate version, he slept with them all at once, more or less as the orgiastic mechanics permitted, on the same night. And, me being me, my first question was “Where are the Rule 34 depictions of this most heroic episode in the history of breeding kinkery?”
And, well, my friends, the answer is… disappointing. There’s not a lot out there. But the French artist Gustave Moreau took a whack at it, on a gargantuan canvas that’s two and a half meters on a side that he began painting in 1853 and never did complete. Sadly, he chose to depict what the Musée national Gustave Moreau delicately terms “the moment before this great act of generation” and even so, he never completed it; it was still “a work in progress” as late as 1882. About five years after he started painting it, his mom rather hilariously wrote to him about it, saying:
Your father was asking me yesterday evening if I thought that you would create something better than your Hercules surrounded by women. I think that you have made enormous progress, and I will not be very surprised if you do, as I have great hopes for my son, and I am convinced that he will satisfy them.
Dear readers, if you know of any genuine Rule 34 depictions of Heracles/Hercules properly swiving his way through the whole pile of Thespius’s daughters, by all means guide us to them by means of links in the comments!
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Faith-Based Alternative To Halloween
There’s faith-based alternative to Halloween out there. It’s called Jesusween, and I don’t think you’re ready.
No, really. You’re not ready for it:
Were you ready for it?
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Finding Freedom In Sex Work
This is the transcript of a video by Onlyfans creator Bri Blossom, talking about how and why she turned to sex work with no regrets to support her husband through his terminal illness:
This is the story of how I became an internet bop in order to support my husband while he was dying of cancer.
So if you watch my last video, you know that we thought there was no cancer left in his body, but it turns out that it had actually metastasized straight to his brain.
I’ve been working as a server slash bartender this whole time.
That was giving me flexibility to care for him and take him to his appointments while still making good money to pay, you know, the extra bills.
And he was still working full time through all this, mind you. Yeah, but after COVID and the first lockdowns were lifted, the restaurant I was working at had new management who were much less understanding of kind of my situation. Ended up using the one and only time I had to ever call out, uh, against me and made it so that I couldn’t make money after that. I remember at the end of that shift where it was just like, I just worked a double, and it was horrible. Like, yeah, the management sucked so bad. I looked at my coworker and I was like, I would rather do OnlyFans than this.
I would so much rather do that. And then I quit that day. I quit, and I was like, okay, I’m all in. I’m gonna do it.
So I spent about a month or so. Yeah, like, a month, six weeks after I quit. Just studying the top creators at the time and seeing what they were doing, how they were successful. And at the end of that rabbit hole, I was like, I can do this.
And you know what? I am.
There is no try, there is no fail, because I’m about to expose myself to however many people end up saying this.
So I will not, not be successful at this. There’s no other… No other option for me.
I was very determined, and my husband and I were in a very dark place, mentally, both of us, because, I mean, the cancer is back in his brain.
Like, he was back on treatment. He never really got a break from treatment. For three and a half years. The three and a half years that he had cancer before he passed, he was in active treatment basically the whole time.
Yeah. Not in a great place. And I did not want him to have to work anymore. And I knew that if I stuck my head down and grinded and just worked really hard, that I could do it. And I did.
Like, the second month, I was doing like, the first month, I think I made like, 15 bucks, and the second month, 12,000. At one point, I was making six figures a month.
Yeah. It allowed me to literally give my husband the freedom to go. To quit his job. To not worry about finances at all, me or him. One of his biggest stresses about dying was, like, there was no life insurance.
Like we were young, his biggest worry was that I was not going to be able to sufficiently support myself.
Becoming a bop has absolutely enabled it so that I was able to support him and I during the worst time of our life, and then also support myself during the worst time of my life after he died.
I will never regret being a bop specifically because if for no other reason, it enabled him to live out his final years much more peacefully and much less stressed, and getting to do whatever he and I wanted. Like, we travelled so much, we did so many. We went skydiving, we went, like, the bucket list items that we would never would have been able to do or afford to do without the income I was bringing in.
So I can never regret being a bop specifically for that reason.
Linguistic note: the word “bop” has a long history in music, with roots going back to bebop but with a modern social media resurgence in reference to catchy, enjoyable, danceable tunes of all kinds. However, it also has several quite recent non-musical meanings. Bri is using it here as a recently-emergent social media slang term for an online sex worker. One possibly-folk etymology makes it out to be an acronym for “baddy on point” but there’s another fairly-recent derogatory sense in which “bop” has connotations of promiscuity or sluttiness, from which usage the OnlyFans/sexwork usage seems to have been quite deliberately reclaimed. (This paragraph is my synthesis of about fifteen minutes of amateur etymological research, and properly deserves about a dozen footnotes, which you aren’t getting, sorry not sorry.)
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Glory Hole Cock Gauntlet
She goes in the cock gauntlet at one end. She doesn’t come out the other until all the cocks are soft and satisfied. How many men are waiting outside the blowbox? Dozens she knows about. Hundreds from the sound of it. It’s going to be a long day:
Artwork is by Adler.
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