It’s A Damned Formula

Here is some more sex writing that uses the up-front “this stuff doesn’t turn me on and by the way I’m a feminist” disclaimer. Come on, guys, ball up, find your nuts, and write about sex without all the wussy disclaimers!

It’s right here in paragraph three — this guy wanted to get it right up front:

But I never quite recovered from the blow to my libido, going from interested to bored to downright queasy within an hour. It’s a shameful confession for a sex-positive feminist to make.

From an otherwise fairly decent article on porn.

The Play’s The Thing

Daniel Rodosh of Rodosh.net was kind enough to send along this Study Guide to the Complete Porno Films of the Bard of Avon. Example: “Finally, an adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew for everyone who thought Ten Things I Hate About You was too cleverly written.” Ouch!

Marriage Then and Now

There’s a long and fascinating article in The Atlantic called “The Wifely Duty” about the decline of sex in modern marriage. (Alina is owed thanks for the link.) This phenomenon is of interest to Bacchus, who (though never married) once spent more than half a decade sharing a household with a woman he loved who nonetheless somehow usually managed to reject all his sexual advances, or else efficiently deter the making thereof, for up to three or four months at a time. (The article calls this “launching a sex strike of an intensity and a duration that would have impressed Aristophanes.”)

Although interesting, the article is fairly unsatisfactory inasmuch as it whiffs of nostalgia for better days gone by, on the thinnest of evidence that they were in fact better:

In the old days, of course, there was the wifely duty. A housewife understood that in addition to ironing her husband’s shirts and cooking the Sunday roast, she was with some regularity going to have relations with the man of the house. Perhaps, as some feminists would have us believe, these were grimly efficient interludes during which the poor humped-upon wife stared at the ceiling and silently composed the grocery list. Or perhaps not. Maybe, as Davis and her “new” findings suggest, once you get the canoe out in the water, everybody starts happily paddling.

Or maybe not. Thank you for playing.

This much, at least, rings true:

Under these conditions, pity the poor married man hoping to get a bit of comfort from the wife at day’s end. He must somehow seduce a woman who is economically independent of him, bone tired, philosophically disinclined to have sex unless she is jolly well in the mood, numbingly familiar with his every sexual maneuver, and still doing a slow burn over his failure to wipe down the countertops and fold the dish towel after cooking the kids’ dinner. He can hardly be blamed for opting instead to check his e-mail, catch a few minutes of SportsCenter, and call it a night.

Alina’s take on this (scroll waaaay down) is perhaps more encouraging than the author of the Atlantic article:

Marriage without hot sex is like prison, add the mortage payments. A couples’ sex life also matters for the development of their children’s emotional and sexual maturity. I want my kids to see me kiss my husband in ways that indicate there is more between us than a shared mutual affection. Kids who grow up around affectionate, passionate parents tend to be more comfortable and less repressed with in their own adult sexual lives.

Marriage, in this young ladies’ opinion, is about tying your fate and your dreams to those of another, binding yourselves together knowing that sometimes the temptation to cut loose will be agonizing, but that your union is more important than your individual recklessness. Don’t blame marriage for a bad sex life– if you must blame anything at all, blame the notorious Wittle Wabbit. Boys, you’ve got competition. All the more reason to lobby your government for that classic French right to a 2-hour lunch break…

Quick, boys, somebody marry her before she gets away!

Just Go Past The Sun And Hang A Sharp Left

Here’s a fellow who seems perhaps to have read one too many Gor novels. Herewith, his list of “Rules for My Slave Girls“. All seventeen of them. (That would be seventeen rules; if this guy has seventeen slave girls, Bacchus is a Baptist.) A sample:

6. Slave girls sometimes disobey or are insolent and must be punished. This, of course, is the Master’s privilege and his duty, for if a slave is not corrected, she will not improve. Slave girls are punished if, when, and as I please. When I desire to punish a slave, I will tell her why she is to be punished and how. If instructed to bring a lash or paddle, she must do so quickly and obediently. Her hands must never touch it, or any weapon, so she must bring it in her teeth, and when she reaches me she must be on her hands and knees. I will then inform her which position to take, and they must obey instantly.

At the risk of offending pet owners and PETA activists, maybe this guy should just get a dog?

If You Say So

Clean Sheets has just published “A Beginner’s Guide to Polyamory“. So the author calls it anyway. It’s interesting, but it reads like a warning to travelers — “here be dragons, enter only if ye seek adventure and bloody death, abandon hope….” Well, that’s stretching a point. But the article makes an interesting observation:

Yes it’s messy and painful sometimes. Yes, relationships end and yes, people get hurt. But (and this is where my mind-fuck came) people get hurt anyway, right? They make messes of their relationships, they fall in love with new people, and relationships end. That’s humanity, not polyamory. It’s monogamy, it’s heterosexuality, it’s homosexuality; it’s religious and secular bonds, it’s legal and non-binding binding contracts; it’s life.

Begs the question, however, of whether those bad things happen more often to the polyamorous.

A Little Visual Relief: Snow Man Gets BJ

Lotta text going by lately, time for a picture. How about fun with snow sculpture?

Cats and Porn Don’t Mix

Carly at Pornblography has posted a 25-step program for conducting a porn spring cleaning. Take special heed if you have cats, because they will resent the elimination of the dunes and piles of porn tapes over which they were wont to clamber:

Step 1: Take a look around your house. Do you have so much porn that it’s bursting from your hiding places, no longer fits in the 300+ videotape holder that you bought from Ikea or causes your closet doors to frequently jump from their tracks because of the sheer force of the massive amount of smut tapes crammed in behind them? Well then, friend, it’s time to clean out your porn collection!

Step 2: Start by removing all of your porn from wherever you keep it and place it in a central location so that you may accurately survey how far your perversion has progressed.

Step 3: Once you have finished struggling with your Catholic guilt, sort through all the titles and make three piles: Keepers, Givers and Trashers. Keepers are for yourself, Givers are for your friends, Trashers are to be disposed of accordingly.

Step 4: Marvel at some of the titles you’ve acquired over the years. What were you thinking when you picked up You’re Never Too Old To Gangbang, you fool?!?

Step 5: After sorting everything into appropriate piles, grab a garbage bag or six. Do so quickly so that your cats don’t knock over the pile you’ve carefully cultivated.

Step 6: Curse your cats.

Step 7: Repeat steps 3 and 4.

Step 8: Take the Trashers pile and start loading up your garbage bags. If you’re like me, you’ve got about 10 bags to fill.

Step 9: Stand back and allow yourself a moment of silence as you fully absorb just how much porn you’re about to dispose of.

Step 10: Curse yourself for having bought white trash bags rather than the customary green or black. Now everyone can clearly see you somehow wound up with more than one copy of Lex The Impaler!

Step 11: After convincing yourself that even though the titles are clear as day nobody will actually make the effort to examine the bags, get help from someone who is strong enough to lift half of the bags you’ve filled to the dumpster so that you don’t have to make more than one trip, therefore increasing the potential of neighbors spying you in the halls or elevator of the building carting around enough porn to make even the likes of Skeeter Kerkove blush.

Step 12: Open your front door and look into the hall. The coast is clear. Go for it!

Step 13: Hurriedly run back into your home when you hear the single mother down the hall exiting the elevator with her young son.

Step 14: Have your stronger companion check for other residents milling in the hall, then have them retrieve the elevator and lock the controls so that you can load your porn trash quickly and peacefully without interruption.

Step 15: Upon arriving at the basement level where the dumpsters are, look around and make sure that nobody is right outside the elevator doors. If they are, don’t panic! Just hide the bags behind you and hold their eye contact. If someone is just pulling in and unloading their groceries, no worries there, either. They’ll be too consumed with not cracking their eggs to pay mind to two individuals running for the garbage bin with 10 see-through Hefty bags full of porn.

Step 16: Have one person stand watch while the other starts throwing the bags in the bin.

Step 17: Throw a mild fit when one of the bags explodes, throwing numerous tapes across the concrete floor of the parking lot into mucky puddles and underneath cars.

Step 18: Ignore the grocery shopper’s offer to help.

Step 19: Dispose of the rest of the porn in a discreet and timely fashion, making sure all of the loose tapes from the explosion are accounted for. If possible, arrange some other garbage over top of the porn booty so that others aren’t alerted to your viewing habits.

Step 20: Cackle maniacally as if you’ve just done something really sneaky and clever, when really you haven’t.

Step 21: Make care packages for your friends across the country out of the givers pile you made, ensuring that you’ve packaged them in plain brown boxes so that nobody will know what you’re sending, helping for maximum impact when they arrive at the receiving end.

Step 22: Wait for the joyous and thankful phone calls and e-mails to roll in.

Step 23: Grow tired of waiting and instead organize what’s left of your collection, making sure that the tapes match the boxes and everything is alphabetized.

Step 24: Enjoy one of the titles that you found while doing your purge. (What happens during or after viewing need not be explained.)

Step 25: Call the City and thank them for the bouquet of roses that were left at your door the following day.

I Heard That’s Where They Come From

Got a belly button fetish? You’ll like The Belly Button Page then. Heck, fetish or no fetish, you might like it anyway — some of them belly buttons is cute.

Hey Babe, Wanna Interface?

The geeks among you will be pleased to learn that penises have more bandwidth than cable modems.

Believe it or not, this link is courtesy of Instapundit.

Not Tonight, Dear, I Have No Diamonds

Anil Dash is ranting about the diamond industry, and it’s an epic rant:

“Want your materialistic, easily-misled wife to stop being such a frigid bitch? Buy her a diamond! Did your husband decide to increase your consumer debt in order to buy you a pair of earrings that were mined at gunpoint by children in Africa? Reward him with grudging sex and a temporary cessation of your relentless nagging!”

It’s entertaining, and the man has a good point.

Bukkake Feminism: A Critical Analysis

The Reverse Cowgirl is back with actual words on her blog (Yay!) and she links to a story from a college newspaper that’s sort of an overview of the bukkake thing, with a review of a specific American Bukkake title.

All of which is reproduced here because, as noted previously, bukkake is one of those fringe porn things that doesn’t get written about much with any degree of honesty. There are a bunch of wierd, odd, unusual, or downright gross things happening out on the fringes of porn, and folks with the courage to discuss them (perhaps thereby making them more comprehensible to the rest of us) should be encouraged.

However, all that is by way of disclaimer, because the article itself is exactly the sort of sex writing that ErosBlog usually avoids like the plague. When nominally pro-sex authors take great pains to mention and then reinforce that they are not aroused by the subject at hand, and then digress several times into discourses on the feminist implications of their topic, all while maintaining an intellectualized tone intended to remind everyone that they are, ya know, serious… well, the result tends not to be very interesting to anyone who is more interested in sexual topics than in academic pretension.

Having said all that, however, this particular article also contains the history of bukkake according to a director thereof, presented with all due skepticism:

Director [of the American Bukkake series] Jim Powers says, “Bukkake is about discipline.” He also provides background on the practice’s mock Asiatic name. “Bukkake is an ancient Japanese custom where if a woman cheated on her husband, the rest of the village men would take her off to a cave somewhere and jack off on her face and in her mouth. And usually what would happen is the woman would kill herself afterwards,” Powers says with an earnest expression and voice that make you eventually realize he actually believes what he’s saying.

Unclean Hands? You Don’t Say…

According to legal blog “How Appealing” a convicted but unsuccessful semen smuggler will not be getting the (now seized) sperm back. The United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit held, in all its awesome appellate majesty and with just a hint of risque humor:

The District Court found that the criminal conduct to which Mrs. Parlavecchio pleaded guilty was conspiracy to bribe a public official, that is, “the illegal payment of money in exchange for receiving seminal fluids from Mrs. Parlavecchio’s husband.” In essence, Mrs. Parlavecchio was seeking a return of the very fruits of her criminal activity. The District Court held, therefore, that a return of the seminal fluid would violate the basic principle that a claimant in a civil equitable proceeding must come into court with “clean hands.”

Menthol Clit Gel Doesn’t Sound Fun!

Village Voice columnist Tristan Taormino reviews three female sex creams with results ranging from disappointing to, shall we say, painfully mixed:

O Clitoral Stimulating Gel also contains menthol, and the box reads, “You should feel an intense warmth for about 20 seconds.” I put a tiny dab of the clear gel on my clit, and the immediate feeling was more like a burn. Imagine holding your clit over an open flame, and you’re there with me, regretting my experimental nature for those 20 seconds. My instinct was to jump in the shower, but in the brochure it specifically said not to wash it off in the 20-second period, and that doing so may in fact increase the discomfort, which didn’t seem possible. So I sat tight, and when the burn faded, a wave of warmth and arousal came over me. Blood started rushing to my cunt, and I got really turned on. Maybe there was something to this Ben Gay on the puss after all. I started jerking off, but decided to wait till a certain someone came over to, um, assist. I ended up bringing myself to the edge of orgasm, then backing off, then getting there again. By the time I was in the thick of two-person sex, I was so overstimulated that I couldn’t come! I don’t hold O responsible: It definitely worked some major mojo on me and deserves a second chance.

Le Vice Anglais?

What in the name of Aphrodite’s Strawberry-Flavored Nipple Rouge is going on in this picture? (Apart from the obvious, that is; the shagging is evident but how exactly is this event scored?)

Criminal, Simply Criminal

One must hesitate before criticizing the laws, mores, and customs of other cultures.

…

OK, that was the requisite hesitation. Now we can get on with laughing at the authorities in Uganda, who are after the lovely lady shown here for the crime of, well, not wearing panties to the New Year celebration where that picture was taken. According to Uganda’s leading daily:

“We are considering charging her for indecent exposure. I will not let this lie. This was not sexual exploitation of an under-age girl,” an angry Inspector General of Police, Maj. Gen. Edward Katumba Wamala, said yesterday.

“From the picture, the girl is mature. This is a case of indecent exposure,” the Police chief said.

In an interview yesterday, Katumba Wamala vowed, “We shall take her on.”

You go, Inspector General Katumba Wamala. In civilized societies, this lady would get a prize, or at least a polite wave and a smile, for performing a little public beautification.

An Interesting Theory

Halley explains (and this is a quote) “Why Alpha Males Get Pussy Galore“:

Most men at the party are just too intimidated to go talk to the super model babe, assuming she will shoot them down. They self-select themselves OUT of the top drawer pussy. It happens all the time. Ask beautiful women — NO ONE TALKS TO THEM. Except Alpha Males who know this fundamental truth, so they know ironically that they have an open field and a very HIGH likelihood of scoring

Phone Sex: A Tutorial

Shell, who’s been more or less missing in action, resurfaces with a brief guide to what makes phone sex work:

The answer is words. Lots of words. Never stop talking. Tell your lover what you are touching, smelling, tasting. Tell him where your hands are. Tell him where you want his hands to be. It doesn’t matter if the position you’re simulating makes talking impossible–talk anyway. “Mmmmphh mmmmmhhh” doesn’t have the same impact as “Oh God, I love the way you taste when you’re fucking my mouth. Can you feel my nails digging into your ass?”

Phone sex is best when it’s with someone you know and love well. When you know which grunt means “faster” and which one means “yes, perfect!” When you know that if you describe dragging your hair across his nipples, he can actually feel it. When you know the shape of him, the taste of him, the scent of his skin, the parts that sweat first.

Did you know it is possible to orgasm without touching yourself? A lover especially skilled with words can talk you into an orgasm. I know. I just spent 2 1/2 hours on the phone with my lover and I can’t count the number of times I climaxed. I may have touched my nipples once. I didn’t touch my clit at all.

Gratuitous Beauty

Pictures of pretty girls, like kittens, need no excuse:

I’ll bet she’s one of them potentially hegemonic dancers, too.

Attu’s Magic Mushrooms

Somebody needs to start worrying about the things Attu sees.

Like, for instance, this link to boytaur.net: “Online resources for boytaurs, multilimbers, shapeshifters, and their friends.”

Creative These Bored Gentlemen

From Dubberley, which was added to the blog roll long after it should have been, comes a link to this rather startlingly detailed list of male masturbation techniques.

When you consider that this particular technology is invented independently by just about every male on earth, unless first explained or demonstrated by another fairly inexperienced practitioner of the art, it perhaps makes since that a profusion of methods can be compiled. But some of these are…surprising.

Learn something new every day.

It’s For Science

Here’s a funny story about a guy who decided to test the whole “ribbed for her pleasure” advertising claim. Notwithstanding his lady’s lukewarm enthusiasm for the experiment:

“Now get on your knees. I’ll have to enter you from behind, so you can’t see what I’m doing.”

“I can just close my eyes and picture Antonio Banderas as usual.”

“Ha ha.”

I had her on her knees, ass up in front of me, legs apart, and entryway poised at an angle of least resistance. Despite all the arguing, this was, and shall always be, a sight that quickly gets me… attentive. I rolled the first condom on, a ribbed one. I called out, as cold and clinical as I could, “This is Exhibit A.”

Precisely!

Two sex quotes:

“When authorities warn you of the sinfulness of sex, there is an important lesson to be learned. Do not have sex with the authorities.”

— Matt Groening

And also:

“The ability to make love frivolously is the chief characteristic which distinguishes human beings from the beasts.”

— Heywood Broun

Finally The Elf Women Get In On The Act

The Lord of the Rings slash keeps coming (as it were). Now with pictures, thanks to the Fun with Photoshop Brigade, who bring us Arwen/Éowyn in a loving lesbian embrace:

Because She Can

Just in case anyone had not figured this out yet, it’s worth highlighting: Dancers could take over the world any time they decide to do it.

What’s with this gay hobbits meme anyway?

More fun with the Two Towers movie — this time, the condensed parody version. Complete, as you might expect, with lots more implied Sam and Frodo slash.

EOWYN: Hal-lo, handsome!

ARAGORN: Hi. You handle pointy things very well.

EOWYN: Yes. My only fear is dying a virgin. Hint, hint.

ARAGORN: Okay! Well, let’s move along.

Thanks to Asymmetrical Information for the link.

Cute and Fun

Here’s a cute site for your viewing pleasure: Bondage in Everyday Life.

No porn here, nor nudity even. Just a collection of photographs of real life bondage situations – college dorm pranks, women getting arrested, gagged-mouth protesters, people chaining themselves to things for causes, bondage in amateur theater, that sort of thing:

Sorry ladies, this site seems to collect female bondage pictures exclusively.

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Bacchus on Porn

After the spot of adolescent fun taken with Armed Liberal’s benevolent prescription for Kenneth Branagh, he (that would be Armed Liberal, not Kenneth Branagh — someday we are going to hire a writer!) pointed out an old post of his about porn.

Turns out he’s agin it. In part because it makes us passive consumers of our lives instead of active participants. It’s better, he tells his sons, to “hold hands and smooch with a real girl than to jerk off to pictures of someone you’ll never meet, much less get to go to bed with.” Or, as he explains:

“So instead of buying p0rn[sic], go meet someone and ask them out. Instead of watching the NBA finals and tying your identity to a team of mercenaries, go down to the park and play some hoops.”

This is great advice, for normal folks. But it’s very exclusionary of the fringes of society — the folks who aren’t athletic enough to play hoops down at the park, or the guy who isn’t attractive enough to get a woman to go out with him. Do we say that professional basketball is bad because playing basketball at the park is more fun and better for you than watching hoops on television? If so, that’s pretty hard on Crutches Boy. “Basketball on television is bad, because it keeps you from getting so desperate for sports fix that you’ll go down to the park and try to play basket ball with the kids who can walk, even though they won’t pick you for their teams and you’ll go home humiliated and frustrated every damn time you try.” Great advice. Thanks. Crutches Boy will be back for more good advice later, bank on it.

On the sex side this problem is worse for younger people, who often don’t have the perspective or maturity to figure out exactly why they can’t get find anyone willing to touch them, much less have sex with them. Most people figure out how to get laid eventually, but it can take a while and a fair percent don’t manage it until fairly deep into adulthood. (There’s also the unfortunate percentage who have genuinely unfixable strikes against them, like general ugliness or unresponsive obesity, that make the project even longer and more painful than it is for the kids who are merely callow and clueless.)

Worse yet, we tell our young people, for lots of strong reasons, that for the first five to seven years after their bodies are sexually mature, there is absolutely no socially acceptable way for them to have an orgasm with another person. Is it really better, for that long span of time, to “kiss and cuddle” without orgasm, than to masturbate and fantasize, which is what porn is mostly about? Perhaps a balanced life has room for both.

In short, Bacchus thinks that there are a hell of a lot of people for whom porn makes the world a better, brighter, or at least more tolerable place than it otherwise would be. This is arguably quite sad — Bacchus finds women a lot more fun than porn, when he finds them — but it’s still true.

Heh, Heh, Butthead, He Said “Hold Their Manhoods”

The Armed Liberal has a benevolent prescription for rewarding an actor of exceptional skill:

“I don’t care that Kenneth Branagh is reduced to being Harry Potter’s foil; I hope he’s happy and healthy and being banged into insensibility by starlets every day for his incredible version of Prince Hal, in Henry V.”

It was a good performance to be sure. Don’t pay any attention to Beavis and Butthead as you replay this bit in your mind:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

We are Free! We are Free!

Much beloved as was the little script that showed recent referrals to ErosBlog, it was ill-behaved. Certain long URLs refused to wrap, and the nymphs who toil over the molten lead and inky type molds in the Stygian ErosBlog press room proclaimed that studious research did not reveal any known block element that would contain them at a fixed width. And thus the width of the left bar fluctuated daily — an intolerable circumstance as all must agree.

So it’s gone. It might come back someday, especially if anybody out there can volunteer a trick for beating it into submission.

Let’s Call It “Snogging the Green Faerie”

A link from Totalitarianism Today to the wonderfully named Modern Drunkard Magazine leads to a detailed history and review of absinthe, complete with authorial confirmation of its much-touted but sometimes-disputed unusual mental effects. There’s really only one sentence that makes the article on topic for ErosBlog, but sometimes one sentence is enough:

What’s more, the drink had the reputation of being an aphrodisiac and you know where that leads: sex.

Besides which, if you are a drinker or a writer the article is a good read.

Build A Better Mousetrap…

…and the world will beat a path away from your door.

Being perhaps readers of other blogs than this one, it’s likely that you my loyal readers have heard of the “Jackhammer Jesus” dildo, the “Baby Jesus” butt plug, and other similar religious-themed sex toys from Divine Interventions.

But this article from the San Francisco Bay Guardian profiles the inventor and promoter of this line, and follows him as he roams sex-positive San Francisco getting the cold shoulder from sex toy buyers.

Picking his way through the brightly lit displays of adult videos, cock rings, and calendars emblazoned with oiled and rippling pectorals, he greeted the bespectacled sales assistant, hoisted a large sports bag onto the counter, rummaged through the contents, and selected an item. When the guy behind the counter saw what the man, whom I shall call Nigel R., was pulling out of the bag, he gave a nervous little laugh and said one word: “Sacrilegious.”

As the home of storefront live-sex Halloween performances, magnificent transvestites, and guys with no qualms about showing off their ass cheeks in leather chaps, the Castro District has traditionally enjoyed a healthy disregard for the status quo. Yet when Nigel R. whipped out a seven-and-a-half-inch marble-white silicone Jackhammer Jesus dildo in the shape of Christ on the cross, the Castro Gulch sales assistant blanched.

Ironic to see that as cutting-edge a paper as the SFBG is still so stuck in the past that even when it prints a URL, it can’t (or won’t) make it an active link in the online edition. Old media, bah.

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Kinky And Straight At The Same Time, How Curious

Here’s some hardcore stick figure porn from The Petting Zoo:

Don’t miss their unique version of the hamster dance.

“Recycling” is also…special.

Other people’s children…what can one do?

It’s Certainly Time For A Change

Alert readers will note that ErosBlog does not link to a lot of actual porn sites. Mostly this is a reader protection measure. Commercial online porn tends to be hideously abusive to its potential customers, punishing them for their curious visit with endless loops of browser-killing pop-ups, browser modification scripts, spyware installers, dialer programs, and other malicious treats.

However, another reason porn sites aren’t discussed more on ErosBlog is that commercial porn tends to be boring. There’s a fetishistic focus on distorted plastic boobs, fake blond hair, and shaved oiled surfaces that frankly don’t look like anything ordinary folks generally manage to have sex with.

Via a link found at Totalitarianism Today, we learn the hopeful news that folks trying to break with the oiled shaved plastic blonde tradition are making money. Good on them; perhaps it will catch on.

Bacchus Being Bad

Confession time: Bacchus has acted in a fashion not entirely neighborly.

One advantage of a new month is a new set of server logs, which are easy to peruse for anomalous activity. Investigation of a string of hits from an unfamiliar source, which shall remain unlinked, turned up a blog reference to the December story about boob scarves in Japan. However, the link credit was given to the original link source and the only reference to ErosBlog was the silent hot-linking of the image off the ErosBlog server.

That’s just unfriendly; although any unprotected resource on the web is free game for linking, it seems fair that if you are going to burn somebody else’s bandwidth you ought to do them the courtesy of a link credit. Especially where, as here, it appears they discovered the story via ErosBlog.

So the image file has been renamed, and Erosblog rejiggered to point to the new file name. The file now bearing the original name is, um, slightly rude. (One supposes, anyway, that a close camera angle on double penetration is rude?)

Next time, drop a link credit, OK?