A Tale of Two Cities

I liked San Francisco well enough when I lived there for a couple of years. However, this story reminds me that, as a geeky broke straight boy with no motorcycle, I missed out on some of its more signal charms. True fact: the most exciting thing I ever touched on Ocean Beach was some sea glass. I like better the sound of this San Francisco:

She headed north on Franklin and I wondered where we were going. When she took a left onto Geary I realized she was headed for the beach and not either of our apartments. That was fine with me a little shiver went through me at the vision of being caught by a park ranger while her head was between my legs.

She must have brought other women here, I thought, when we stepped onto the sand and I saw that she had chosen a spot that was sheltered from the wind. When we had arrived she had opened up one of her saddlebags and pulled out a blanket, and she spread that out for us now. The air was warm, but maybe it was just that my whole body felt as though it was desperate for her touch. We both kicked off our shoes.

She sat, and pulled me down with her. Then she reached over, opened my jacket, and both of her hands went to my breasts….

Thanks to Crystal at Exposed for sharing this and lots of other stories.

That’s Almost Not Nice, But Don’t Stop

Being as I am a charitably-inclined fellow, I don’t suppose Dirty Whore means to be a cruel tease when she writes:

Have I mentioned lately how much I love to suck cock? How much I love to take it deep and let my throat squeeze the head, or how I like to flick the most sensitive spots with my tongue? How I enjoy using my hand while I lick and suck on his balls?

That’s only the beginning.

Cruel, cruel I say!

Monica Lewinski, American Heroine

Mike Taht makes a good point:

It would be a far better world if more politicians spent more time pounding the flesh rather than pressing it. Every minute Clinton spent banging Monica Lewinski he wasn’t screwing the rest of us or the world. Every time she knelt before that mighty cigar – she was a heroine.

Wealthy Benefactor Sought For RealDoll Orgy

Violet Blue has a cool idea:

But still, if it weren’t for the hugenormous price tag, I’d love to roll around with both a male and female Realdoll for a weekend, even with an added real live person, and if anyone wants to sponsor me doing the deed and writing an article about this scenario (and will ship screener dolls), I’m up for the challenge. Hell, if people can get rubes to pay their ridiculous charge card debts via their web sites, and solicit donations to help them get dates or boob jobs (pop-ups, no pun), then there’s hope for my “Pervert Porn Reviewer Has Realdoll Orgy Article Fund.”

C’mon, it would be ten gees well spent. Anyone?

“Stop muttering, Mr. Freud”

This, allegedly, is food, prepared by good churchly people and served to children and maiden aunts with a straight face:

Apparently it’s called “Candle Salad” and it’s prepared in all innocence by Mormons and folk of that ilk. Theresa explains it all, in a long post about Mormon food of which this is but the tiniest excerpt:

Back then I was also taught to make candle salad, only we dipped our bananas in Dream Whip and rolled them in crushed cornflakes before placing them upright in their pineapple rings and sticking half of a red maraschino cherry onto the tip. It takes a very, very clean mind to think that up.

Oh my, yes.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Honeymoon Advice For Mormon Virgins
• A Mormon Denies Candle Salad
• Special Mormon Underpants

Nice Work If You Can Get It

Here’s a picture I found over at Uffish Thoughts some while back:

I can hear it now: “Will the lady be requiring the complete hand detailing this afternoon?”

Too Much Enthusiasm

You know, enthusiasm in the giving of blowjobs is all well and good. Indeed, a lot of guys could wish to find more of it in their lives. However, it’s possible to have too much of a good thing.

First, Strangest, Worst, Best

From Makura No Soshi, a long catalog of sexual experiences, well written and pleasing to any voyeuristic eye. I like this bit the best, because it’s the one that she makes sound like the most fun:

The first time I kiss a woman it rocks me all the way down to my knees. Later, when I am alone, I burst into tears. I think about it over and over again. I want to go around singing that stupid song that was on MTV for awhile, “I Kissed A Girl.” I lock myself in the bathroom and think about it some more, and touch myself. The first time I have sex with a woman I am terrified that I won’t know what to do. I think that I will do to her all the things that I like to have done to me, for starters, and that perhaps she can tell me all the rest. Her skin is so unbelievably smooth, her breasts so soft, and she is wet and plush-velvety, and red, and deep. Her clitoris rises toward my mouth like a sweet, dark fig. It is the best sex. Ever.

Bukkake Versus Bake Sales

George Kranze has some thoughts on how to integrate bukkake more fully into American culture:

Talk about a natural fund raiser – how many times have you been driving around and seen a church group or civic club selling car washes ? Now, who the hell wants to wash their car ? I let mine sit in the rain – works just fine.

But suppose you drove past a fire department and saw a large hand-lettered sign that read “Bukkake $5” . You park, and walk into the station, (which has been emptied of fire trucks for this occasion), and lo and behold, a gorgeous brunette Demi Moore look alike is kneeling on a pillow in the center of the garage. Men mill around, drinking draft Heineken from a freshly tapped keg, bullshitting, and stroking their meat. One by one, as the need arises, they drift on over to Demi and shoot their load.

Her hair is streaked with strands of cum, cum hangs from her chin and occasionally falls to her bare breasts – she is grinning like a she-devil – a good time is had by all. Shit, you would donate 5 bucks and join the party, right ?

And he thinks it would be just the thing for centers of higher learning:

Sororities at some of our rowdier campuses could require that all new members undergo a bukkake.

The beautiful debutante would kneel in the center of a large room in the sorority house while several invited fraternity houses mill around, swilling beer, and, uh, rising to the occasion. The debutante would have to fellate the three largest guys, the rest would have to service themselves. At the crucial moment guys move right next to or in front of the cutie and shoot their load. The whole party would be recorded on video for both the sorority archives and the debutantes scrapbook. (Interesting item for her future ex-husband don’t you think?)

For anyone who is still confused about this bukkake business (as Stan Rogers would say, “You lucky few”) there’s some background here and here.

The News Just Keeps Getting Better

From that fountain of high quality sexual knowledge, RedBook Magazine, comes this news for a woman who (perhaps hopefully?) wants to know if there are any health problems associated with swallowing semen:

The good news is that it’s beneficial! Recently studies have shown that regular consumption of semen can actually have some wonderful health benefits. Semen contains at least 13 prostaglandins and high concentrations of hormones that retain potency if taken orally. The quality of the seminal hormones is thought to be superior to even prescription versions. In the study women who regularly consumed their lovers sperm showed such benefits as a reduction in ovarian cancers, lowered depression and many even had acne symptoms lessen or stop entirely. It is thought that the oral consumption of the potent hormones had a balancing effect on woman’s hormonal ups and downs caused by their periods and pregnancy or breastfeeding.

The key to the findings is “regular consumption”. Only once in blue moon won’t have the same effect. Those that indulged once or twice a week received little benefits. The ones who received the results were the ones who ingested semen four to five times a week or more!

You do understand, of course, that no man wants to see a woman depressed, and that “balancing effect on hormonal ups and downs” sounds pretty nifty too. If daily blowjobs are the cure, why, we’ll do what it takes to make ourselves available. Some sacrifices are worth it.

Rubbery Fetish Goodness

“3xL” was kind enough to call my attention to his rubber fetish blog called Lust, Love & Latex. And, from deep in the archives, here’s a handy link to A Beginner’s Guide to Rubber.

Squeak!

How To Put On A Condom With Your Mouth

This blog entry used to link to a short photographic how-to course in putting a condom on your lover’s penis with your mouth, a handy skill that should be practiced more widely. Alas, the links died long ago, and in those distant days [2003], there wasn’t an Internet Archive to preserve them. Except for one tiny thumbnail the photos were lost to us, and I had more than one reader write to me over the years, asking where to find them.

Fortunately, that’s not the end of our story about the technology of broken links and lost images. After the fortuitous invention of the reverse image search engine, I was once again able [in 2015] to track down the photos on an archived copy of a Czech-language malware-installing page. So here they are, back from the dead:

If anybody knows the true origin of this set of photos (I’m guessing an adult print magazine) I’d very much like to hear about it.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Kink University: Deep Kissing, Bathtub Sex
• Kink University: Anal Sex 101
• Kink University
• It Can Be Orgy Time Now
• The Cautious Lover

The Argument For High Beams

Or how to have fun on the back roads with that spotlight your Uncle Dave picked up for spotlighting deer:

“Beep beep!”

Improve the Taste of Your Semen!

It will come as no surprise to the veteran sex blog surfer that there are folks out there selling powders and pills that are supposed to improve the flavor of male semen. But, thanks to Adam Curry and the United States Patent Office, we now have details about one such product, Patent #6485773, including a recipe and a description of the oh-so-scientific methods used to perfect it.

First the recipe, which boils down to “eat more fruit”:

38-41%              Freeze-dried Pineapple Juice
12-14%              Freeze-dried Banana Powder
7-9%                Freeze-dried Broccoli Powder
5-7%                Freeze-dried Celery Powder
5-7%                Freeze-dried Strawberry or
                        Cherry Juice Powder
5-7%                Cinnamon Powder
5.5% up to 1143 mg  Calcium Powder
1.9% up to 400 mg   Magnesium Powder
1.2-2%              Ginger root Powder
1.2-2%              Nutmeg Powder
1.0% up to 200 mg   Creatine Powder
.5% up to 100 mg    Zinc AAC 20%
up to 30 mg         Selenium AAC 0.2%
up to 6 mg          Vitamin E
up to 2.5 mg        Vitamin B6
up to .5 mg         Vitamin B12
Total: 21-22 grams - in Powder

And here’s how they figured it out:

During the research and development phase of this invention, it was discovered that pineapple juice and broccoli were only slightly effective in improving semen taste, regardless how much of either or both were ingested. As a result, powder concentrates of both ingredients were tested, with only slightly better results. Finally, freeze-dried forms of these same ingredients were tried with significantly improved results. As certain other fruits and vegetables were also somewhat effective in improving taste results, banana, celery, and strawberry/cherry were also ultimately selected and added to the formulation. The cumulative effects of these five ingredients in freeze-dried form produced greatly improved semen-taste results. Further research and testing resulted in discovering that three specific spices (Ginger, Cinnamon, and Nutmeg) were successful in neutralizing the generally salty/bitter taste usually attributed to the male ejaculate. As a result, these three spices were also added to the invention formulation in optimal ratios, as determined during our research and development.
…
Following this, marketing testing began with 27 local couples of different ages, races, and health regimens (e.g. smokers/non-smokers, drinkers/non-drinkers, healthy/not-so-healthy lifestyles and diets). Questionnaires were created and used for data collection by said couples and, after several months, the data was examined. The results were highly positive, clearly indicating that regardless of the lifestyles of the couples, significant semen-taste improvement was experienced by all in the market-test group. Subsequent to this, the product was placed on the market where after thousands of orders and with a 100% Money-back Guarantee, less than 1.5% return of product has been experienced.

I really love that last line. I can see the letter now: “Dear Sir: I would like a refund for your semen taste-improving product. It does not work. My cum still tastes nasty. Sincerely, your customer.”

We Knew Daze Was Smart

Some good advice from Daze: “We’ll skip past the stuff about parasites and jump right to the sex.”

I think that’s probably almost always the wisest course.

The World’s Most Ludicrous Bikini

I seem to be stuck in a picture rut lately. Here’s a shot of the world’s most ridiculous bikini bottom:

It must be summertime….

The Game Is “Hide From Nurse Laurel”

I’ve “borrowed” the following graphic from the front page of the excellent if somewhat frightening medical fetish toy sellers at MedicalToys.Com. (The theory is that they’ll overlook my liberality in this respect because of the free promotion it gives them; presumably if that theory is wrong they’ll menace me with urethral catheters or lawyers or something and I’ll have to replace the graphic with a picture of Mickey Rat giving someone the finger.)

But I digress. The picture:

If you don’t recognize the object “Nurse Laurel” is brandishing, these two archive entries might help you out. If you don’t know why it’s sexy, don’t worry; like most fetishes, the appeal is not obvious…except to those to whom it is obvious. I confess this one has me scratching my head, but presumably it’s all in good fun.

“He Has a Wife, You Know…”

From deep in the archives of the Onion, this headline, with story to match:

Local Lutheran Minister Loves To Fuck His Wife

Iraqi Bukkake

Even before Fox News showed the world (courtesy of the virile artillerypersons of the 3ID), Dr. Susan Block had figured out that Iraq was all about the bukkake.

“Lollypop, Lollypop, Hey Holly Lollypop…”

An arresting photograph, even if the purpose of the exercise is obscure:

But why are her eyes closed?

Criminal Conversations Of The Old Kind

Here’s a story from a quarter-millennium ago called “The Female Husband” about a notorious lesbian of the era said to have married a woman while posing as a man. Some of the delicate phrasings are quite humorous:

As Molly Hamilton was extremely warm in her inclinations, and as those inclinations were so violently attached to Mrs. Johnson, it would not have been difficult for a less artful woman, in the most private hours, to turn the ardour of enthusiastic devotion into a different kind of flame.

Their conversation, therefore, soon became in the highest manner criminal, and transactions not fit to be mention’d past between them.

Or, how about:

Molly assured her mother of the falsehood of this report; and as it is usual for persons who are too eager in any cause, to prove too much, she asserted some things which staggered her mother’s belief, and made her cry out, O child, there is no such thing in human nature.
…
The whole truth having been disclosed before the justice, and something of too vile, wicked and scandalous a nature, which was found in the Doctor’s trunk, having been produced in evidence against her, she was committed to Bridewell.
…
At the trial the said Mary Price the wife, was produced as a witness, and being asked by the council, whether she had ever any suspicion of the Doctor’s sex during the whole time of the courtship, she answered positively in the negative. She was then asked how long they had been married, to which she answered three months; and whether they had cohabited the whole time together? to which her reply was in the affirmative. Then the council asked her, whether during the time of this cohabitation, she imagined the Doctor had behaved to her as a husband ought to his wife? Her modesty confounded her a little at this question; but she at last answered she did imagine so. Lastly, she was asked when it was that she first harboured any suspicion of her being imposed upon? To which she answered, she had not the least suspicion till her husband was carried before a magistrate, and there discovered, as hath been said above.

It sounds like pretty good use was made of “something of too vile, wicked and scandalous a nature, which was found in the Doctor’s trunk”.

Love Letter

From the random email humor file:

I shall seek and find you …

I shall take you to bed and control you …

I will make you ache, shake and sweat until you grunt and groan …

I will make you beg for mercy …

I will exhaust you to the point that you will be relieved when I leave …

And you will be weak for days …

All my love …

–The Flu

I’ve been just sick enough lately (not flu, Jupiter be praised!) to find this really funny.

Behold the Power of Google

Daze has the story of a cad guy who had to remove from the web his ungentlemanly tale of drunken lustful shenanigans with one Katy Johnson, a former Miss Vermont. And sure enough, the story is gone. But the Google cache remembers.

[Well, it did for awhile. But then it forgot. But it’s OK, Tucker fought back, and the story’s back up on his site.]

The tale itself is fairly ghastly, and paints neither its author nor its subject in a good light. But I can’t see anything in there that ought to override the author’s freedom of speech, and of the press. So I’m posting the link, but no salacious excerpt.

Much later update: Tucker has removed those links from his website and excluded them from the Internet Archive. But some of the material survives survives elseweb.

More Nestle Bon Bons Will Do The Trick

I am home sick today. Head cold, yucky but not too miserable. Yesterday, on my way home early to take a nap, I stopped to grab some liquids and a pint of ice cream for comfort food. Wound up with a little tub of Nestle Bon Bons, which are rich little nuggets of vanilla ice cream dipped in a chocolate shell. The ice cream is heavily whipped with air so it’s soft as silk even at freezer temperature, and the chocolate shell is thin, fragile, and apt to break or melt in your fingers during the brief journey from tub to mouth. Both ice cream and chocolate are very yummy.

Gentlemen, I’m telling you, these things are sex pills!

So far that’s an untested theory. But I’m convinced. Get a tub of these things and sit down on a couch next to any woman. If she has even the slightest touch of warm inclination toward you, or feels she should, and you play your cards right, you should have her eating out of your hand (literally) inside of three minutes.

Better yet, since these things are fragile and melty and too good to let go to waste, there’s going to be some licking of (at least) fingers within another two minutes.

Lick her sticky fingers. Get her to lick yours. Tease her with a bon bon, put it between your lips instead of into her mouth. Crack the chocolate shell visibly with a light-but-firm press of your lips so that the ice cream starts to melt along with the chocolate shell. If she kisses you at this time, give the bon bon back. If not, feed her another one, but slowly….

Dammit, if you have to be a peacock, be a good one!

As soon as this head cold clears up I’m going to have to find me a lady friend with whom to experiment. The Nestle Bon Bon theory of seduction must be tested.

I Am No Longer An Illeist

A day too late, I learn a new vocabulary word that I sorely needed for the title of this post. Thanks, of course, to Eugene Volokh.

Too Much Of A Good Thing

I think this picture is evidence that sometimes recycling can be taken a little bit too far:

Because You’re Doing It Wrong You Dunderhead!

I just stumbled over a fascinating series of blog essays entitled “Why Your Wife Won’t Have Sex With You.” If this is a topic of interest to you, as it was to me during a six-and-a-half-year doomed relationship, you’ll want to set aside a couple of hours and read through the whole series.

G’wan, do that now, before I poison it for you with my opinion.

Back already? Gosh you read fast.

Anyway, it’s a very thoughtful series, clearly written by a woman with a level head, an introspective disposition, and a lot of good will. Her observations are useful and interesting and I wish I’d had a chance to read them before my girlfriend, who I loved quite a lot but who had serious sexual issues, got rid of me and picked another man not to have sex with.

That was supposed to be funny.

Moving rapidly along. So I’m reading this excellent series of essays, nodding and agreeing and going “Hmm, that explains a lot” and generally getting myself edified, when suddenly it struck me. There’s a unifying theme to the whole essay series, and it’s this: “Your wife won’t have sex with you because you’re doing something wrong or failing to do something right.”

Yup, it’s all about you, buster.

And I suppose, in a weird definitional way, that has to be true. If getting it right as a man is defined as doing whatever it takes to get laid by your chosen woman, then by definition if she’s not willing to be intimate you need to get your act together.

Still, I’m concerned by the way this approach utterly disposes of the concept of an intimate partnership between two responsible adult humans. If it’s never about the woman, if there’s never any concept that by cleaving unto a partnership relationship she undertook some responsibility for maintaining the intimate part of the relationship, then there’s no partnership. There’s just another pea hen watching from the sidelines, waiting to see whether any of those strutting peacocks ever manage to wave their tail feathers just the right way to make her tingle.

Maybe that’s the way the world is. But I was raised to afford women a bit more humanity than that. I’m concerned that this essay series dehumanizes women by, effectively, absolving them from any responsibility for intimacy.

Go read the essays. If nothing else, you’ll learn to be a better peacock.

2012 Link Update: The original Salon.com link went 404 in 2009. I’ve replaced it with an archives.org version. The author also moved much of her Salon material to an archive blog, possibly with some curatorial changes: Why Your Wife Won’t Have Sex With You.

In Which Bacchus Switches To First Person

Enough is enough.

When I started this blog eight months ago I decided to use the pseudonym “Bacchus” in an effort to enjoy, while it lasts, the thin and temporary anonymity that pseudonymous blogging provides. But, for some reason I never quite managed to articulate to myself, from the beginning I referred to my Bacchus persona in the third person.

I’m going to keep the pseudonym for the nonce. But the third person business has got to go. It leads to excessive use of passive constructions and other perverted crimes against literacy. And, more importantly, it makes it bloody hard to express an unequivocal opinion.

I’ll see how it goes.