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The Sex Blog Of Record
Archive for March, 2006
Friday, March 31st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
This vintage Irving Klaw bondage photo is from Bondage Blog. I like her wide-eyed expression, but as usual with these vintage pictures, it’s the impressive layers of armoring lingerie that steal the show:
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Friday, March 31st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I’ve mentioned before the odd pathology of pornographers using ugly language to describe and market the porn talent, and cited with approval pornographers who speak out against the practice. Here’s another citation: Sam Sugar, in an article cataloging the big lies told by pornographers, says:
3. Sluts. Despite what it says on the box, if you call a woman — even a porn performer — a nasty cum-drinking bitch when you’re not having sex with her, she’s probably going to knee you in the nuts. The tubby mommies-boys and misogynists who market porn want you to think that the way they view women is how women in porn see themselves. Try calling a performer a “dirty cock-socket” at a trade-show if you think it is, in fact, true. Watch your head.
Friday, March 31st, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
It’s a grand day when a guy is so confident of what he wants that he can say to a naked woman;
Honey, you’re beautiful and sexy, but I need a bigger box.
Wombat amusingly elaborates over at Kiss & Blog. Makes sense to me.
Friday, March 31st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I’ve been traveling this week and putting a lot of interstate highway behind me. So I’ve see a lot of signs: “$1000 Fine For Littering.” Ho, hum, I guess a hundred ten-spots out the window would make “fine” litter, eh? I should be so rich.
Stupid sign.
Then I got to the great state of Washington. Climbing the north shore of the grand Columbia, I spotted the first new anti-litter warning:
IF YOU LITTER,
IT WILL HURT!
It’s a testimony to the power of blogging and the global microbrand, I think, that when my sleepy road-hypnotized eyes took in the first of these signs, my inner voice spoke unbidden: “If you litter it will hurt? Wow, they must be working with Mistress Matisse!”
Alas, back here in the real world, I expect that if they put Mistress Matisse in charge of the littering punishments, there’d be a sudden rash of fresh garbage along Washington’s highways.
Thursday, March 30th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Via BoingBoing comes word of James Lilek’s latest snarky deconstruction of mid-20th-century fashion, this time in the form of the amazingly-tame 1977 catalog from Fredericks Of Hollywood:
“On the far left, a small bra ad: it’s Farrah Fawcett, practicing her expressions should she land a role that requires her to be slapped, yet look sexy and available.”
Sometimes the Lileks caption is all you need:
“Lord Slink from the Planet Mantis puts the move on Loni Anderson.”
Thursday, March 30th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Here’s a hilarious transcript of cybersex gone terribly … right? Some goon tries to pretend to be a master, but he seems to think it mostly involves virtual punches and namecalling. And then the hunter becomes the hunted:
mia: *gets out strap-on, and slips it on*
jblack: whoa
mia: *attaches 14″ dildo to strap-on*
mia: *lubes the dildo up*
jblack: where’s the girl? you’re going to fuck a girl right?
mia: you’re the girl. i’m going to fuck you.
jblack: master does not approve
mia: no, see. this whole time you’re under the assumption that i needed to be dominated
mia: the truth of the matter is, I do the dominating.
mia: and to prove it
mia: i’m going to fuck your cyber ass until it cyber bleeds
jblack: master says no
mia: no, YOUR MASTER says yes
mia: bend the fuck over
jblack: i don’t like this
mia: too fucking bad, worm. you’re gonna get it now
mia: *bends you over. spreads your ass.*
jblack: no i don’t want this
mia: he doesn’t WANT this, he says. what about what i said, before you cyber raped me, DICK?
mia: all i’m doing is what you did to me. you think that’s unfair?
jblack: yes
mia: and why is that
jblack: because i aint a fag
mia: oh but i am?
jblack: different. your a bitch
mia: no, actually, YOU’RE the bitch right now
mia: *slams my big dildo into your ass*
mia: oh that feels so good doesn’t it, bitch?
jblack: this is rape
mia: “shut up, bitch. enjoy it”
mia: oh yeah, you like that?
mia: you like Master’s cock?
*jblack has signed off*
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Tuesday, March 28th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
When I was just a kid, I remember seeing some brightly colored surreal erotic landscapes in a Penthouse magazine, featuring breast mountains, penis volcanoes, semen rivers, and the like. The latest erotic drawing by Patty at Creative Spanked Wife put me fondly in mind of that long-forgotten pictorial, but I like this better:
What you see here is a severely cropped-and-reduced thumbnail of Patty’s drawing, so be sure to go see the whole thing at full size.
Monday, March 27th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Oddest sex spam of the day, reproduced in its entirety:
Hi
Buy viagra or die!
Have a nice day.
Although I’m not sure it’s technically spam, since it came through without a working link or a valid reply email. Perhaps it’s just an aggressive new brand awareness campaign by Pfizer?
Sunday, March 26th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
In which the heroine of Pillowbook utterly demolishes the serenity of a stuffy “naturist” camp with straight talk, direct action, and showering without a towel. An example of the straight talk:
The second thing I realised was that I had that familiar wet feeling between my thighs.
Well, all right, no point being bashful: not between my thighs, exactly, but between my cunt lips, and slick down my perineum to my arse.
Saturday, March 25th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Here are a couple of photographs of a life-sized statue of Britney Spears giving birth. Questionable taste? Who cares, it’s Britney Spears naked!
Of course all art is political and this statue is assuredly no exception. For the backstory and the blah blah blah and the link credits and the source website with the popups, go see the story on Boing Boing.
See also: Britney Spears Pregnant: The Rear View
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Friday, March 24th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Steph broke out the manifesto pen the other day, and I like the results:
I have sex as often as I’m able, within the constraints of my own sense of morality. I’ve given blow jobs. I’ve taken it backwards and forwards. I’ve used birth control of more than one variety. I’ve had sex in public places. I own sex toys. I’ve watched porn. I’ve tried to become better and better at sex every time I have it. I own bondage gear.
And I am not yet on a first-name basis with Satan. Shocking, I know, but true. I, in fact, (gasp) have gone to church in the last six months. I donate to charity. I do not have a criminal record. I do housework. I pay my taxes — honestly. I don’t lie on my resume. I call my parents regularly. I’m always punctual. I’m a model employee. I treat people with respect. I ride a cute scooter and obey the laws of the road.
Nonetheless, right now, I’d like to get fucked silly and sideways, and if that makes me amoral, then sign me up, baby.
Thursday, March 23rd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
So, there was this girlfriend once. I took her tent camping to a spectacular place in a fairly cool climate, and I made sure we had two new sleeping bags that zipped together into one big one. My first hint that the relationship was in trouble was when she refused to let me zip them together. It was all downhill from there.
Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be cool (metaphorically or otherwise) in this tent tonight:
Picture is from Usenet.
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Thursday, March 23rd, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
It amazes me how people can put slogans on pictures and end up with the weirdest combinations. But they post them on the web and think it’s all good! I got a big laugh when I saw this picture, which I cropped before posting here:
I wonder what items she keeps in there….
Tuesday, March 21st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
A long time ago I ranted against the blog tradition of labeling adult links as “not safe for work”:
I hate the way people refer to ErosBlog as not work safe. It’s a pet peeve. See, the deal is, ErosBlog is safe for work, although perhaps not conducive to getting any done. If it’s not safe for you to view ErosBlog where you work, it’s your work that’s not safe for ErosBlog. Just because some of my readers live in the United States and choose to work in environments where they are treated like horny fifth-graders and assumed to be unable to make responsible choices about viewing and displaying sexual material, there’s no reason to call the blog unsafe, especially when other readers and potential readers live or work in less repressive societies (or environments, such as their own office or home) where the blog is perfectly safe. Folks, if your work isn’t safe for ErosBlog, consider getting some different work! And if you can’t do that (and I know a lot of folks feel stuck in their lives) at least don’t assume that everyone else in the world is in the same boat.
Fast forward to today, when security expert Bruce Schneier posted a blog entry about the novelty nude Euro bills being passed as real money:
The very first comment in response to his post was a stiff complaint about the link he posted:
Bruce, next time, it would be an idea to indicate the link might not be safe for work. Some of us might have some explaining to do if looking at those images.
I really liked Bruce’s incredulous response:
You have got to be kidding. Where in the world do you work?
The sentiments from my long-ago rant were echoed by a different commenter:
I think if you could get into trouble by just reading the article linked by Bruce, then you really have a harsh working environment. What about a change of work?
Sadly, several other folks chimed in to support the complainer. It’s not just one person who wants their links pre-vetted to include warnings against newsworthy boobie artwork, it’s lots of people. The job culture, I swear it’s a menace.
Monday, March 20th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
A fine old publicity still featuring Barbara Eden:
You gotta admit it, she really knows how to assume the position!
Sunday, March 19th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I’ve commented before (most notably in the comments to this post about the production of spanking porn) that I don’t have much time for so-called feminists who can’t respect a woman’s sexual decisions. When feminists stop standing up for the choices women make, I stop recognizing them as feminists, it’s that simple.
Thus there’s some interest to be found in this Spanking and Feminism thread over at Spanking Blog. The post itself chides kinky men who won’t take ownership of their kinkiness, who can’t admit they want to spank and dominate for the fun of it, so they instead pretend (to themselves and to the world) that the women they are spanking are weak inferior creatures who would be lost without the “guidance and discipline” these ever-so-benevolent dudes are offering.
As discussion simmered in the comments, ranging wider and wider as discussions of BDSM and feminism tend to do, along came someone claiming to “respect individual choices” while simultaneously arguing that “it’s really hard to seperate out cultural expectations and personal choices.” Which, translated, means something like “You say you chose to do that, but I don’t believe you, and thus I’m free to condemn your choice.” I enjoyed the response:
No, it’s really not hard to separate out personal choices from cultural expectations. When someone says “This is my choice” you respect that, absolutely, or you just became part of the problem. If you retain niggling reservations, if you’re willing to question the individual’s self report of her choice, then you are failing to respect her personal choice and you are claiming, in effect, that you know better than the individual. Viewed charitably, the claim is still a version of “Your society has made it impossible for you to act as as a self-actualized individual adult human; you’re so messed up that you can’t even correctly determine or report what you want.” That’s an infantilizing, disempowering, patronizing claim and although it’s often made by folks who claim the badge of feminism, it’s no part of a true feminism that I could respect.
Just so.
Saturday, March 18th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Sometimes I have to link to an article (like this one on playing with anal toys) as much for the post title as for the content. How can you not read an article entitled A Spy In The House Of Ass?
My girl’s eyes grow wide as I remove the fatter butt plug from its packaging and brandish it before her. “You wanna put that in me?”
“C’mon, it’s not that big. I had mine in for like half an hour.”
She relents. I watch, fascinated, as her little asshole expands to accommodate the plug at its widest cross-section and then collapses around the narrow neck above the base, locking the toy into position. Leslie sighs. I pull her to the edge of the mattress, push her legs against her chest and plunge into her cunt. “Now you have both holes filled, you little slut!”
And when she comes the butt plug shoots out of her, bouncing off the wooden floor like a rubber ball. We both giggle. I switch holes — if the butt plug won’t keep her rear-end occupied I will — and it’s not long before I burst inside her, my knees threatening to buckle.
Friday, March 17th, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
After the body buffet of foreplay is over and it’s down to making the beast with two backs, what’s more delicious than the telltale swelling of his cock right before he comes? For me nothing’s better than that tease.
And even though I enjoyed that just a little bit ago, I’m getting all warm and tingly again just thinking about it.
Thursday, March 16th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Judging by the hair and the beads and the vintage tones of the color photography, this happy scene from Usenet might date all the way back to the original Summer Of Love. No matter, it’s clearly a summer of love:
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Wednesday, March 15th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
No, not quite what you think:
We went back to my apartment, and sat on my bed talking for hours. I’m great at getting girls onto my bed, but notoriously chicken about making the first move. We talked about sex to the point that I was squirming. I gave her a tour of my sex-toy drawer. It was obvious to me that we both wanted to do something but I just couldn’t.
By 5 am, we were naked in the dark, tucked under the covers in my big, soft, bed; still chaste, but so hot. The phone rang, and it was my boyfriend, calling me after his date, wanting to know about mine. I asked him all the questions I usually ask him after a playdate: Did you have fun? Did you fuck her? Did she suck your cock? Is she prettier than I am? And I answered his questions: Yes, it’s been a fun night. No, we haven’t kissed yet. Yes, she’s completely adorable and I really, really want to.
I felt her hand slide across my belly and up onto my breast. Her fingertips grazed my nipple and pulled. I arched up into her, smiled, and sighed with relief and pent up lust. “Nothing’s happened so far, but she just tweaked my nipple, so I’m taking that as a very good sign,” I told him. He and I talked for about 5 more minutes, with her hands roaming freely over my body. I guess she didn’t really know if it was okay for us to play until she heard exactly how okay it was with my lover, or maybe she just thought it was hot to distract me as I was talking. At any rate, she made the impossible first move and I was so happy that she did. I told him I loved him, hung up the phone, and we practically leaped on each other.
We kissed, touched, and squirmed, with our legs intertwined and hands everywhere. Neither of us vied for dominance; it was a sweet, exploratory makeout. She reached for my pussy and touched me tenatively, gently, and intuitively. I gasped to feel how wet I was. I knew that I would be, but that initial moment of discovery– the moment of finding just how swollen, slick and sensitive my cunt was, literally took my breath away.
From Suburban Sexpot.
Wednesday, March 15th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I have nothing to say about this perfectly innocent picture except that I found it at Tuckle Rori.
Tuesday, March 14th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
From clean to dirty, a natural progression:
The naked man is “Enrico” from the October 1988 issue of Stallion magazine, courtesy of BJ.
Sunday, March 12th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
When I first saw this picture from Water Bondage, a thought leaped, unbidden, into my brain: “Forget that shower gel from the commercials, THIS is how dirty girls get clean.”
However dirty she may once have been, bondage model Harmony is looking squeaky clean in this picture.
Similar Sex Blogging:
Saturday, March 11th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
I try not to play the “funny search terms” game too much — it was old before I started blogging — but today on a whim I clicked through to the very last page of search terms in my stats. Somebody somewhere found ErosBlog by searching on Google for:
vibrator balls exploded
Ouchies.
Saturday, March 11th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
One feature of vintage pornography, now mostly vanished, is the anti-clerical, anti-papist depictions of Catholic clergy. Early erotic novels, which mostly tended to be contraband anyway, were chock-full of priests, nuns, and monks run sexually amok in orgiastic golcondas of kinky sex, rape, and flagellation involving each other, whatever innocent children they could seduce or kidnap from their flocks, and sundry nearby farm animals. One doesn’t see so much of that in modern pornography, but there was a bit of it remaining in the hardcore porn of the 1960s and 1970s, which this appears to be:
One could almost surmise, from the hopefully expectant expressions on the nuns’ faces, that they are praying for (and working for) a sudden shower of manna. Nun bukkake, anyone?
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Friday, March 10th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
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.
Friday, March 10th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Via Boing Boing comes one of the better (worse) badly-translated menus I’ve seen in awhile. Sure to be a big hit with the ladies are the cowboy meat dishes. Yes, really; the menu offers both “Cowboy Leg Beautiful Pole” and “Big Bowl Gold Mushroom Cowboy Meat”.
Also don’t miss the “Ginger Bumping Milk (hot)”, which sounds like something you’d get served over at Figging.com if you were incautious.
Wednesday, March 8th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Here are a few words from Chelsea Girl about the prospect of a threesome:
This is the story of being the girlmeat in a boybread sandwich.
…
In the grand spirit of nothing exceeding like excess, the threesome promises a surfeit of pleasures. More hands, more mouths, more flesh, more limbs, and, in this case, more cocks. I’d had the girl/boy/girl threesome a couple of times–and in fact the week after my boy/girl/boy threesome I’d have another g/b/g one–but I’d never been with two boys at once, and I liked the idea.
I liked the idea of being the warm womanly center of the all male maelstrom. I liked too the idea of being doubly objectified, doubly penetrated, doubly used and doubly pleasured. I liked the idea of having a cock in my mouth while a mouth was at my pussy, and while that scenario is obviously open to the g/b/g threesome, I liked the idea that I could then be fucked by the cock belonging to the mouth that was at my pussy.
I didn’t really think a lot about the boys kissing, touching or whatever together. It would be exciting–I like hot boy-on-boy action as much as the next sexually progressive chick–but it hadn’t really entered into my fantasy extensively, to be honest. Mostly this fantasy centered on me, my body, and those two boys who would in tandem be doing their utmost to pleasure it.
Of course, as is the way of things, the reality was a little different than the anticipation.
Monday, March 6th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
More naked women, wrestling. How does this ever get old?
From Ultimate Surrender. Isis Love and Tory Lane.
Monday, March 6th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Over at It’s Fun Being A Bastard, LoveableBastard talks about planting his seed:
Blowjobs are great. For me, they are a wonderful prelude before I start the main course. It dawned on me recently why it is that I rarely cum from a blowjob.
It has to do with planting my seed. I am wired not just to fuck and cum, I need to want to plant my seed.
And then I realized why some encounters are better for me than others. I can be with the most beautiful woman and, if there’s no connection, I don’t really get into things. To get that connection I must feel the need to possess and plant myself in her. To mark her with my cum. To plant my hot seed not in the sense of making babies. To plant my seed as an animal staking my territory. To claim that which is mine. To be with a woman who makes me want to possess her.
…
Now I know why I want the women I want – because being with them makes me want to do more than just rub my cock in them or against them and spurt with an orgasm. I want to plant my seed.
Monday, March 6th, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
I think I filled out the application right yesterday!
Monday, March 6th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
A while back I mocked a sex spam missive that began “Has your cum ever dribbled and you wish it had shot out?” I wondered:
Nobody expects very much from spam. But most of it makes at least a certain sort of sense. Bigger penis? Sure, there’s a market. Harder penis? Why not? Breast enlargements? Cheaper mortgages? Debt reduction? Fake Rolex watches? I probably know somebody who wants each of these things.
But an increased ejaculate volume? Who do I know that worries about their inability to make a big enough mess during sex? No, on second thought, don’t tell me.
The comments then were sufficient to suggest to me that this particular sexual anxiety is out there, even though it had never crossed my own mind during the course of a long and anxious life. Now comes Perge Modo addressing the same question with actual sensible suggestions, as opposed to dubious herbal solutions. He offers up the possibility of engaging in temporary and strategic abstinence to build up a metaphorical head of steam, and further suggests prostate manipulation and/or interruption of ejaculation as possible approaches. A flavor of his sophisticated prose:
Have you tried having your prostate manipulated while preparing to shoot? Most guys who want to stick a finger up your butt have no idea what they are looking for. They are as rude as firemen hatcheting their way into a burning house without so much as a pause at the door. (“Hey! It’s not locked, you jerks, just turn the handle.”) Every so often though, you’ll encounter an expert who can find your prostate and apply just the right amount of coaxing pressure to send you into a state of total and subjegated disarmament that will enhance the finale.
I guess that’s further proof (if the spam were not enough) that some guys really do worry about this.
Saturday, March 4th, 2006 -- by Bacchus
We all know that large books have been published about the effects of marriage on various sexual sensibilities. Here’s a tiny new chapter from The Smitten:
This is, hands down, the hottest picture I have ever taken of my husband and it’s not because I have a thing for Hummer-sized feet:
Shown here is among the greatest things that have happened since we walked off the aisle and into the sunset together. You see, this man right here is scrubbing the bathtub. Our bathtub. Hard. And more importantly, better than I can.
Friday, March 3rd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
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.
Friday, March 3rd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Via BoingBoing comes this photo of a Texas basketball player (guard Daniel Wilson) who seems to be displaying some of his equipment to the crowd:
The official story is that it’s an “unfortunate optical illusion.” Well, maybe.
Thursday, March 2nd, 2006 -- by Aphrodite
Yes!! I’ll tell you a little about it all but you’ll need to follow me…..
I decided that I wasn’t going to stay home and mope on Valentines Day, instead I went to a bar that has decent food. I haven’t been there in awhile and it was fun. One of my neighbors that I used to help before I moved was there. His wife hated it when he went out with the guys so I was surprized to see him there, especially on Valentines Day. They split up. I knew they had problems but I didn’t expect that.
Funny how I noticed how cute he is right after he said that. (Not really, I noticed before, but now it was okay to tell myself how cute he is.) We take turns buying drinks and pretty soon it’s just the two of us sitting at the bar and talking. After a couple rounds he tells me he always thought I was cute in my trashy work clothes but when he saw me at the bar in a dress he didn’t know it was me because I was so pretty. I blushed and put my hand on his knee. Instant. Electricity.
We couldn’t get together for a date until last Saturday. It was nice, real comfy since we already are friends, but we both felt that electricity sparking between us. So we ended up at my apartment…..and I forget who gave into that electricity first, but we ended up in my bed having totally hot sex. Nothing really naughty…..just the quenching of deep thirst.
And wouldn’t you know it, I get no breaks. When he pulls out of me his cock is red. Bright red. It isn’t the usual color a girl expects from down there. He didn’t hurt me at all and there’s no obvious damage on him, so he’s looking at me with a what-the-fuck look and I’m looking at him with a what-the-fuck look.
It was me. I was still bleeding on Monday, so I went to a doctor. She said that it’s nothing to worry about and that things get out of practice, especially as a woman gets older and doesn’t have regular sex (the first time I’ve been called ‘older,’ how much better can this get?).
He’s been totally sweet about it. He’s called every day to check on me, and today he sent me a pink rose with a card saying ‘No more red – please?’ The bleeding has stopped….we both have Sunday off…. I just sent him a white rose with ‘Lather rinse repeat’ on the card.
And I really wouldn’t care if I did repeat it all, he’s been that cool about it.
Thursday, March 2nd, 2006 -- by Bacchus
A wee bit of sexual sanity from Steff:
My lovers have carte blanche to roll over and begin playing with me anytime they want. They know there’s a chance I will say no or push ’em away, but a better chance I’ll say yes, and most importantly, they know I’d never fault ’em for trying. And you shouldn’t either. You should never leave your lover feeling trepidatious about sharing their desire with you. That should go without saying, but fuck, one could write a book about it.
Indeed one could. I’ve known men who dared not try to initiate sex with their wives, for fear that they would be (and this is a quote) “punished”.
Wednesday, March 1st, 2006 -- by Bacchus
Via Bondage Blog comes word of Gucci bondage fashion in the form of a golden shackle attached to a clasp handbag:
I wonder if it comes with a set of matching leg irons and belly chain?
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