Wesson Oil Sex

From the self-described Dirty Whore, this entertaining story of the fun you can have with cooking oil:

We stumbled back to his apartment but stopped at the 7-11 to pick up a bottle of Wesson oil. I ripped down his shower curtain and spread it on the living room floor. I pulled off my clothes and he poured the oil all over my body then joined me on the plastic sheet. Hands slid over each other — the oil felt marvelous — and before I even put my fingers on him, he was hard as a rock. I got onto my hands and knees as he fingerfucked my pussy and slipped an oily finger into my ass. Then two. I moaned, not feeling much pain thanks to the alcohol and Wesson. He entered me quickly, his rigid cock slipping up my virgin hole as our oily bodies slid against each other. The feeling as he moved, my ass tight as a fist around him, was incredible. He exploded inside me, shooting his cum deep into my bowels. I loved it!

It’s a remarkable blog with some interesting stories.

Droid Hydraulic Problems

“Is that a broken hydraulic cylinder in your pocket, or are you just happy to see the steam condenser?”

Today’s mechanical marvel has been brought to you by Venomous Kate.

Summer Camp Was Never Like This, Redux

From German nudist site Hollynature.

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Summer Camp Was Never Like This

Waste Not, Want Not

There walked the soul of a true romantic:

For a while I dated an older man who happened to be my boss. To be perfectly honest, had he not been my boss, I never would have looked at him twice. I also would have been better off, which pretty much goes without saying.
Once, while we were making out in his car, he was slobbering in my ear, blowing in what he thought was a sexy manner, when he spit his chewing gum into my ear.

Not sexy.

When I asked him why he hadn’t disposed of the gum BEFORE we started snogging, he replied that it seemed a shame to waste it.

Thanks to Vagary for sharing the moment.

Catholic Schoolgirls “Paper” Dolls

Here’s a funny flash site where you can dress and undress this representative of the Unholy Army of Catholic Schoolgirls:

Thanks to Spanking Blog for the link.

Sexual Climax Gel Spam

First it was Halley critiquing porn spam, now Meryl Yourish is getting into the act with a creative deconstruction of a spam she got that was pushing arousal gel for the ladies:

Hooray! Uh a what?

Climatique is a specially designed gel that was created for women who wish to experience, restore or enhance the pleasure and joy of great sex.

Oh. It’s a gel. Not a guy, a gel. Wait a minute, let me think. A gel. Nope. Um, I want a guy to do those things for me. So far, no sale.

There’s lots more.

Listen Up, You Perverts!

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

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

Christian Sexual Guilt

Here’s a site that’s a little sad: “Answers to Recent Anonymous Questions” from a site devoted to “Sex and Intimacy for Married Christians.”

It’s not sad because because so many of the questions display an appalling level of sexual ignorance, although they do. There’s plenty of sexual ignorance in the world, and I don’t think Christians have any corner on it.

It’s sad because so many of the questions reveal people wracked, for periods of years, by terrible feelings of guilt and dirtiness, over things as harmless as a little bit of heavy petting. A worldview that generates this sort of mental pathos from harmless sexual play has much to answer for:

I and my wife are Christians. We have been married for 7 years. We have two children. We come from very conservative background therefore likewise towards sexual matters. However just before we were married, out of some loosness, we had a sexual experience but short of intercourse. However both of us reached organsm (She reached organsm with my caressing and mine through mine). Although it has been so many years and we have asked God for forgivness, I still feel that I cannot get over with it and most importantly feel not in a proper sexual relationship with her ie that experience mar i think my intimacy with her. I guess “What you sow is what you reap.” What do you think? And do you think that this sin has made our body unclean?

The answers given are actually quite sex-positive, to the extent that a sex-positive attitude can shoe-horned (use a lot of lube, you’ll need it) into the constraints of sex within marriage that does not involve any sort of fantasizing.

As you read the site, try not to snicker at the dozen different creative spellings of “orgasm”. It ain’t the least bit funny, when you stop to think of the reason why it’s happening.

Dixie Chicks: Nude, Proud, Defiant

The Dixie Chicks, who took a lot of heat lately for speaking their minds, have apparently decided not to stop. This surely is a case where a (nekkid) picture is worth a hundred thousand words. From Yahoo:

As a PR move, it’s fucking brilliant. Anyone who just sees the magazine will know where they stand, without reading a word, except perhaps for the words written on their fair skins. It doesn’t matter what you think of their politics or their music; the genius on display here (along with all that yummy flesh) is pure public relations.

Brilliant. Beautiful. Proud. Naked. Bacchus is in love awe.

And Speaking of Alternatives

Something about the last post puts me in mind of the old limerick about Nelly:

A lovely young lady from Thrace
found her corset was too tight to lace.
Her mother said “Nelly,
There’s more in your belly
Than ever went in by your face.”

Bondage Coin On Ebay

From an eBay auction, this fetching bondage art from a [racist, see comments] German propaganda medal/coin:

Going for a lot of moolah, alas.

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Remedial Porn 100

Poor Halley. A worldly woman, there can be no doubt. But when she set out to critique the porn spam in her mailbox (a hilarious and worthy idea) she inadvertently revealed a slight…gap…in her pornographical education.

The spam:

Stacy is a starving biology student. She said the reason she would take two huge cocks inside her was because “I need the money!”

Halley proceeds to impugn both Stacy’s biological and her business sense:

And WHY is this alleged biologist-wannabe putting these two cocks in her vagina — and this makes, I’m telling you, NO SENSE — the writer tells us “I need the money!” Because she needs the money? Who, exactly, is paying for this transaction?

Let’s posit for a moment that, in fact, she is a bio major who moonlights as a common whore — a stretch of the imagination dear readers, I know, but stay with me on this. If she were propositioning guys to fuck her with huge cocks — why on earth would any reasonable man pay to compete with another customer’s huge dick for space in Stacy’s cunt? It just does not make solid economic sense. Stacy is no business major. So instead of getting two guys paying to fight over what is essentially one parking place, shouldn’t she reconsider the whole scenario and take them on one at a time?

Halley, Halley, Halley. You’re reading too much into this. “One parking place?” “Inside her”, yes, but there are ways, and there are ways.

Perhaps some visual aids are in order. Fair warning, gentle reader: like any good visual aids these links leave nothing to the imagination.

First, using the modest, time-honored, and maiden-aunt-approved device of substituting carrots for actual male members: Perhaps Stacy meant she wanted two cocks inside her not this way, but instead this way? It makes simultaneity much less implausible.

The skeptical reader will observe, with some justice, that those two carrots in the latter picture are not attached to any actual fellows, and might further observe that, were they attached to actual fellows, the angles involved would be problematic.

And perhaps that’s so. But the problems, if any, are not insurmountable. And guys have been reported to greatly enjoy this sort of sharing, which supposedly provides many of the alleged joys of bumping penises without any risk of catching homoerotic cooties from each other, thanks to the thin protective barrier of female flesh. Bacchus, however, cannot confirm that claim from any first-hand knowledge.

At this point, however, we may safely conclude that more time has been spent analyzing the porn spam in question than ever went into its authorship.

All the “Saddamite” puns are “true!”

Saddam Hussein starred in gay porn films when he was a student. Really. Well, “really” according to Yahoo:

Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein has been caught with his pants down – literally. A shocking 1968 porn film has surfaced, in which the flamboyant strongman appears performing raunchy homosexual acts!

The image quality of the grainy 16mm film, uncovered by the Kuwaiti secret police, is poor — but experts who’ve taken a close look at the hairy-chested actor are “100 percent certain” it is a younger, trimmer Saddam.
…
“Saddam appeared in as many as 85 of these films under a variety of stage names, most frequently Omar Studdif,” reveals the researcher.
…
In the newly uncovered 86-minute prison flick, Saddam, then just 34, plays a naive young peasant who is wrongly convicted and sent to jail. He is initiated into homosexuality by a series of older and more experienced cons.

“Saddam’s acting in the picture is actually quite good,” al-Sabah notes. “One scene, in which he buries his face in a pillow and cries, is so touching you almost can forget you’re watching a low-budget sexploitation film.”

Yahoo reports it straight with an April 10 dateline from Kuwait City, but this reads like a pure April 01 prank piece. Odds are it first appeared in a Kuwaiti paper on April Fools Day.

The Female Mind

Saith the Punning Pundit’s girlfriend:

“Look, just because I am horny and showering you with kisses does not mean that I am trying to seduce you.”

All righty then.

A Little EverQuest Porn

EverQuest Porn? You betcha!

Setting the scene:

The morning in Kelethin was crisp as always. High in the treetops the temperature was much cooler than down on the forest floor. Sunshine speared it’s way into the lofty wooden structures in narrow rays and sharp angles. Bird chirps and wolf cries filled the air in a gentle cacophony.

And occasionally, a mysterious song could be heard.

It took skill to hear it; you could only listen for it among the other sounds of nature if you knew precisely what you were listening for. Visitors to the vast Faydark never gave a second thought to the melodic wailing which seemed to whisper through the trees on occasion, the quiet cry never lasting much more than a minute or two, and always blending as though it were nothing more than the call of an owl, or the howl of a wolf.

But the Elves knew the sound and when one of them listened carefully, paid very close attention, they would hear the infrequent melody. A quiet, high-pitched tune, different every time, like a long feminine sigh that varied it’s pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical. Then they would smile knowingly and go about their business.

And then getting down to business:

“Take me ” she whispered. “I will warm you both ”

With only a few languid strokes, she felt them grow hard at her touch. She briefly wondered why Barbarians never seemed to freeze in the arctic when they nothing beneath their kilts, but the thoughts were wiped from her mind as she suddenly felt their hands upon her. Big, strong hands, grasping her bare shoulders, their huge palms and fingers nearly covering her entire upper arms. She felt herself laid on her side.
…
“AH!” she cried out. He was so huge, his cock filling her delicate elven body completely. He was as hard as wood, and glided easily within her moistness. Tremors of pleasure rippled through her body.

At the same time, she finally felt the warm, nude body of the second Barbarian pressed up behind her. Joe’s body nestled against her own, his warm chest finally covering her back, chasing away the chilling air. His thighs rested just beneath hers, warming her even more. His arm draped over her hip, holding her steady while Gregor rhythmically slid in and out of her, his thick cock stretching her nether lips tight around it. “Yes Yes ” she grunted with each of his thrusts. Behind her, she felt Joe’s finger slide further back along her bottom, gently spreading her wetness along her tender flesh, pressing gently between her buttocks, into her tender hole.

“OH . OH TUNARE!!!” she cried out as she felt Joe slide his finger gently inside her forbidden region. She felt so very filled by the both of them, and they moved in time now, in and out, in and out. Gregor’s cock from in front, Joe’s finger from behind. It felt so perfect, her body was awash with sensations, the nipping cold still stinging her skin wherever and whenever it was uncovered, the fiery warmth of the two strong Barbarians around her, the wonderful sensations coming from her filled wetness and her behind. Her body shifted with each stroke, moving in time with each of their thrusts, over and over, the pleasure inside her building, and building…

Or Perhaps They Just (Don’t) Suck

This post addressed Eugene Volokh’s provocative question about the seeming double standard by which women’s vibrators are considered fairly cool by reasonably enlightened, sex-positive members of society, while devices designed for male masturbation are not.

Here’s an article about one such device, the $895 Motorized Orgasmic Release Machine, which suggests that the tech just isn’t up to snuff:

Well, according to the instructions, you don’t have to be hard to enter the sleeve. That’s bullshit. I found that keeping my soft cock snugly inside the sleeve was nearly impossible, especially with all of that lube. But the next instruction concerned me: “Squeeze the suction ball and slip it back on the coupling at the end of the plastic tubing.” I glanced at my hands. They were covered with Wet.

Maybe I’m totally uncoordinated, but the ball kept slipping out of my hand, and I had to force it onto the tubing, and everything kept sliding, and meanwhile, my hard-on had turned into something like a greased eel and had fallen out of the sleeve and Fuck, what ever happened to good ol’ fashioned grabbing and jerking?

So I worked to regain my hard-on, stuffed it back into the sleeve and grabbed a towel. I wiped the lube off the ball, squeezed it and finally forced it onto the tube. When I released the ball, I was supposed to feel suction around my cock, something like Monica you-know-who giving me a blow job, and the suction was supposed to keep me snug in the sleeve, but I felt only a little bit of suction, certainly nothing like a real, live mouth. Not Monica’s mouth.

Thanks to Erotic Blog for the link.

Life Among The Nymphs (With Bananas)

It’s hard. So very hard. Uh, life, that is.

Bacchus loves him some edible swimwear.

Spam O’ The Day

Spammer: “Pay the Rent With Your Ass Girl!”

Bacchus: “But I don’t have an ass girl!”

Moral: Punctuation matters.

Size DOES Matter

Halley says so:

It IS about size — the size of the guy’s heart who happens to own that penis. It’s about the size of everything attached to that penis. The size of his kindness … and big big kindness matters. The size of the time he carves out of his life for you … and all of us find it harder and harder to drop everything and give a nice big full morning, afternoon or evening to the ones we love. The size of his laughter. The size of his eyes. The way they look at you, across a larged-sized room. The size of his courage.

Twitterpated at Marn’s Place

Brutally ripped from context over at the ever-funny Marn’s Big Adventure, these observations on springtime:

“Once the tumult of spring is over and everyone is appropriately sexed up, things will settle down here immeasurably. But right now it’s pretty raucous.”

And on the Dessert Menu, We Have….

There’s an odd little flash movie on this page (direct .swf file link here) involving disembodied cartoon breasts that dance around to piano music. Yup. For real. And some of them wind up in a parfait glass, with spoons. And then at the end there’s a whole ball of them that explode, like the Death Star.

What does it mean? Hell if Bacchus knows. It’s Japanese, if that helps.

Ha! Detokenization Well Underway!

BJ isn’t a token gayblog anymore. Welcome, GayPornBlog!

What’s Better Than Two Roses On A Piano?

Why, tulips on an organ, of course.

(The lips belong to Japanese hottie Sayaka Uchida.)

Zeno’s Paradox…Solved!

So it seems they rounded up all the students at this one high school and herded them into the gym. Then they lined up all the girls against one wall, and all the boys against the opposite wall. They rang a bell ever ten seconds, and instructed the students to walk toward each other every time the bell rang, walking each time only until half the previous distance between the students had been covered.

A mathematician, a physicist, and an engineer were asked, “When will the girls and boys meet?”

The mathematician said: “Never.”

The physicist said: “In an infinite amount of time.”

The engineer said: “Well… in about two minutes, they’ll be close enough for all practical purposes.”

Nude versus Naked

An interesting line from an old Larry Niven story makes this point about the difference between nudity and nakedness:

“Nude is artistic. Naked is defenseless.”

Interesting that the story, which can be read as a polemic against anarchy, is carefully and disingenuously set in an artificial environment in which everyone has been rendered defenseless….

The Vibrator Double Standard

Eugene Volokh has posted a provocative inquiry about vibrators. In a nutshell, he wants to know why progressive modern individuals are quite hunky-dory with the concept of a girl spending quality time with her vibrator, but they get all squicked out and squeamish about a guy using what he (Volokh) delicately calls a “vagina-shaped vibrator.” Several theories are aired.

First of all, a more descriptive, if no more erotic, phrase might be “male masturbator”, since these come in many varieties, only some of which vibrate.

Second, it seems likely that Eugene’s primary theory has merit: A woman who uses a vibrator is assumed to be substituting it for “actual” sex, and society is quick to approve of her many and varied sound reasons for abstaining in that fashion. Whereas, in contrast, a guy who uses a “male masturbator” or a “fake vagina” is assumed to have no alternative; he’s a pathetic dude who can’t “get any.” Given the very real sexual power imbalance, as old as the invention of outlawry for rape, between men who propose and women who dispose, it seems not at all implausible that a woman with her vibrator is assumed to be choosing it over an array of available sexual partners, while a man with his toy is assumed to be a loser with no better offers.

Striking in its absence from the Volokh list of theories, however, is a simpler hygienic theory. Male masturbation results in an emission which is, Bacchus would think, broadly viewed by men and women alike as more “yucky” than typical feminine lubricities, or even than that rarest of nectars, outright female ejaculate. Worse yet, a vagina substitute’s inherent concavity makes careful cleaning a more problematic task than the quick wipedown of a briskly convex vibrator.

Mind you, in objective terms the hygienic concern is arrant nonsense. Men have mastered cleaning tasks of a far more intricate nature, and will even voluntarily indulge when the object of their cleaning affections is, say, a much-beloved rifle. Nor is it implausible that a truly decent technology for assisted orgasm would command every bit as much gadgeteering enthusiasm as gun guys lavish on the contents of their gun safes. But still, at the end of the day the squeamish objection to concave male sex toys may well boil down to an “Ew, but it’s gonna be icky to clean out when he’s done with it…”

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Patching A Popped Love Doll

Uncle Melon is at it again with his handy guide to used sex toys. Excerpt from the part on repairing broken love dolls:

An aside on patches: Inflatable women are easily patched with store-bought patch kits. Your “date” may not be able to maintain the same level of air pressure and therefore should be handled with care. Most of these patch kits will not adhere well when the puncture is on or around the artificial “genitalia” or anus.

Thanks to Uffish Thoughts for the link.

Pork Rind Porn

Yup. Your eyesight is fine. Pork Rind Porn:

Enjoy!

Beer Goggles…ON!

Bacchus is no believer in making fun of appearances, being himself no paragon of physical splendor. But this is one crazy-looking ugly chick.

Naptime

Breakfast is done. The sun is shining and birds are singing. It’s time to get on with the busy Bacchus day.

No, wait! What’s this in the backyard?

Never mind. As you were. Bacchus is going to go take a nap with the nymphs.

Are You Thirsty?

Enjoy Prison You Cop Bastard

This sort of naked abuse of official power is enough to make an anarchist out of a person.

Women motorists forced to strip by cops:

“A former police officer pleaded guilty to charges that he forced four women to strip after he pulled them over for traffic violations in New York. Prosecutors said Frank Wright, 36, forced one woman to walk home wearing only her underwear.”

Via Yahoo News [link gone dead]. [Edited to remove a title that too-lightly invoked an abusive practice in US prisons.]

Veil Dancer

“Hmm, yesss. Have that one bathed and sent to my tent.”

Yup, Still A Moron

Bah, this has not been a great week for Bacchus to display his dubious interpersonal skills.

The latest anti-triumph: A very cool-looking Spanish-language blog called “La Petite Claudine” copied the doggerel from this post, and hot-linked the picture from the ErosBlog server. Normally that’s fine, but there was no link credit or back link, so Bacchus was mildly steamed.

Bacchus left a comment. In haste. Which is never a good idea. It was intended to be slightly rude. It was ruder than intended. And (perhaps with the added confusion of a language barrier) it was understood as being ruder still. Response was had. As the diplomats would say, there was a frank exchange.

It turns out there was supposed to be a link credit, but technical difficulties had raised their ugly heads. Oops.

Communication finally prevailed, apologies exchanged, and all is good with the world. But Bacchus remains a moron.

48 Better Rules For Submissives

A while back ErosBlog linked to, and ridiculed, an alleged list of Rules For My Slave Girls. Now SpankBoss has posted a far more realistic sounding list of rules he found floating around somewhere:

1. I will not hum the theme from Jeopardy while Master decides which implement to spank me with.
…
6. Master does NOT hog the bed.
7. I will not refer to Master’s kitty as “snake food.”
…
14. I will not chew my collar.
15. I will not giggle during paddlings.
…
20. I will not make shadow puppets in the candlelight while Master is tying me up.
21. I will not critique how Master ties me up.
…
23. I will not go out-of-state when borrowing Master’s car during lunch.
…
29. It is unlikely that Master pushed all the covers onto my side of the bed so he could shiver all night.
…
48. I will not hoot with laughter when Master accidentally whacks himself on the back of the head with the flogger.

Now that sounds like a happy, if kinky, relationship. The rest are mostly just as fun, and funny, so go read ’em.

Sunny, With Celebratory Fornication

James Lileks forecasts:

Can you imagine the parties in Baghdad this week? Hospitals had best make a rubber stamp that says GEORGE, because nine months from now they’re going to use it on every other birth certificate.

Librarian Porn Novels

No, really.

Sharing Fantasies

Some stunningly sane writing from Jane Duvall about a difficult thing to do, sharing fantasies:

The other night, I went out on a limb the likes of which I never thought I’d do and shared one of my most extreme fantasies with Jim. I did it the way I was supposed to, because I was ready to own it and be okay even if it was something he thought was yucky (he didn’t, but hey.. we’re closer in a lot of ways than we ever realized) and I did it at the most risky time for me to do it ever, when we were that far apart. And it felt really great, to realize that I can start owning my feelings, desires and wants. I don’t have to let things happen to me, I can ask for what I want and I may or may not get it, but I can survive it if I don’t and make my choices accordingly. This may sound like a no-brainer, but it’s not a place I’ve been before given my history.

The “ready to own it” line is really quite useful. The terrifying part of sharing a fantasy is the risk that the other person will say “Yuck” and think more poorly of you. Being able to respond with “It’s mine and that’s me and I’m good with that” is tremendously liberating. Which is not to say it’s easy.

Bill Grogan’s Girl

Bill Grogan’s girl
was feeling fine;
wore her red dress
fresh off the line.

She gave three groans
of awful pain
inhaled big
and flagged the train!

With all due apologies to Bill Grogan’s Goat.

Mom Was Right, One Does Go Blind!

Well, not really. But how else to explain that BJ was unfairly included in the new Not-Blog list?

To be sure, the blogroll over at BJ’s is cleverly disguised as a drop-down menu box with the word “elsewhere” in it. Bacchus never saw it. Bacchus is a moron. Next topic?

Sorry about that. This post below has also been fixed.

Blogging Is as Blogging Does

Everybody has a different view of what makes a blog. And there’s no right or wrong to find amidst the differing views. But lately, it’s been frustrating to find quality sex-related blog-like sites that don’t seem to link to any other blogs. To the extent that blogging is a community, it works by letting the traffic flow from site to site via blogrolls and the like. Bacchus finds it rude to to the guests to send them to blog-like sites that don’t link out to anywhere, because that’s like sending them down a long hallway to a room with no exits. It doesn’t matter how spiffy the stuff in the room is, they still have nowhere to go when they are done.

Unfortunately, that’s meant ignoring a lot of quality sex sites, especially the old-fashioned journalists and diarists who frequently don’t seem to have gotten on board with linking around to share their traffic.

So now there’s a “Sex Not-Blogs” link category at left. If your site is in it, and you feel like a blog, please don’t take offense. It’s a compliment, honest, because it means the management here thinks your site is pretty awesome even though you don’t link out to anyone on a permanent or semi-permanent basis.

To be emphatically clear, this has nothing to do with whether or not a site links back to ErosBlog. Lots of folks on the blogroll don’t link back here, and that’s obviously fine (well, mostly fine, drat them all!) or they wouldn’t be there. But link somewhere, or be forever a cul de sac.

The (Not Gay) Sex Blog?

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

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

Pornographers of Gor

A spiffy online magazine sorta thing called Wrong Way Go Back has published Three Unerotic Tales. One is too scientific, one is too euphemistic, and one is just downright over the top. The scientific one reads frighteningly like what John Norman would sound like if he tried to write hard-core straight porn:

His penis slid into her vagina and she secreted more vaginal discharge. Luckily the discharge was not irritating or blood-stained, nor did it have an unpleasant odour, the cause of which is usually foreign bodies, cervical erosion or cervical polyp.

Luckily, too, she was on the pill, a type which built a wall between the cervix and fallopian tube that prevented sperm from entering her uterus and impregnating her ovum upon ejaculation.

She was simply having sex with him for the pleasure of it, having successfully passed through her oral and anal phase of psychosexual development to fully centre upon exploration of her genetalia.

There’s also a snarky article about how web logs are nothing new, nothing special, and nothing revolutionary. Which is fucking hilarious ironic coming from a website that is slavishly imitating a dead tree magazine, right down to page numbers and two-page advertising spreads for sport utility vehicles. [It’s also ironic that all the links in this post died and had to be removed.]

“What a trip, what a day”

MortalCity summarizes her day (just the new things mind you!) here:

New things I did today:

-Drink more than a drop of my own piss (not all that bad once you get over the smell)
-Spray arcs of piss on camera
-Piddle my panties and keep going on purpose
-Be suspended by my boobies only (no safety line)
-Drool ice cream ooze all overmyself (and giggle my ass off while i do it)

Wierd day, but you know, it was fun.

It’s a long post about a longer day, so go read it already.

A Sunday Scripture (On Nose Hooks)

Therefore I will put my hook in your nose
And my bridle in your lips,
And I will turn you back
by the way which you came.

— 2 Kings 28

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Money Shot

You will have noticed that ErosBlog doesn’t dwell on the war. You want warnography, there’s plenty better places to find it. But this is on topic.

A Fox News clip that’s been aired frequently over the last few days shows the firing of some large artillery pieces, of the old-fashioned (meaning not self-propelled) variety. The camera briefly zooms in on the barrel, where (if you look sharp) you can see white writing: “$ SHOT”.

Money Shot. Noun: In pornography, the moment when the male performer pulls out so that his ejaculation may be captured on film. Allegedly so called because of a perceived need to convince the buying public that the sex was “real”.

So it would appear that we aren’t just killing Iraqis — we are subjecting them to a gigantic involuntary bukkake with long range flying globs of supersonic red hot metallic high explosive fragmenting semen.

Yippee.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Messy Fun

Some people just like to get messy:

What One Woman Would Say…

…if she were inclined to straight talk:

Now that I’ve introduced myself, you should buy me a mind bending beverage so that I can see that you aren’t cheap and that you find me attractive. I will need this mind bending beverage to flirt with you outrageously, thereby procuring your number or vice versa, and to keep you interested for the rest of the night so that you actually want to call it. I’d love to have sex with you as well, but since you are relationship material, I have to make you work for it and buy me a few dinners first. I might allow you to hug me or do something equally chaste such as kissing my cheek at the end of the night, but don’t count on anything overtly sexual for the next 2 dates. If this is not enough encouragement for you, you are simply a pig, a pervert, an asshole, or a man. My friends tell me I can do better.

From The Life of Erin.

Smurf Porn

Yup. It’s that time again. Here’s an animated .gif of a happy smurf getting a blowjob from Smurfette:

You Missed A Spot….

Halley says she has a new job! And she has pictures to prove it….