Review Goodies From Eros Boutique

Speaking of vibration, the fine folks at Eros Boutique sent along a box the other day with a couple of vibrators. (Yes, Virginia, Bacchus is always happy to accept free sex toys in exchange for a review.) Although they have a lot of excellent goodies for sale, The Nymph and I were disappointed in these two items.

First: Spice Incognito Nail Polish Vibe. Powered by included watch batteries, this vibe looks like a bottle of nail polish and is very discrete. So discrete, in fact, that at first I couldn’t figure out how to turn it on. I finally figured out that I had turned it on, but the vibration was so faint I had to stand completely still and concentrate in order to detect it humming in my hand. Nifty if that’s what you like, but as a guy I’m in the “more power” camp and the Nymph doesn’t appear to disagree. When they sell a vibrator with a built-in cold-fusion reactor so the neighborhood lights don’t dim when it starts up, I’ll probably want one.

Second: I Kit – The Pocket Rocket Complete Kit. No complaints about the base vibrating unit on this model; it buzzes quite vigorously and made The Nymph happy. However, the attachments don’t stay attached very well; even the slightest sideways pressure and they pop off. Since the attachments are small, this raises the spectre of one disappearing into an orifice – which is never sexy unless you have a medical fetish. Also, the attachments are apparently supposed to be flavored (the box advertises availability in “three blissful flavors” including strawberry, blueberry, and grape) but in fact they have a very strong odor and flavor of PVC plasticisers — you know, that vinyl air-mattress smell. You can tell (sort of) that there’s a hint of fruit smell blended into the mix, but it’s overwhelmed by the vinyl smell. Great for folks with a vinyl fetish!

Underwater Sex

This is pure porn, but it’s new and different: Aquafan: Underwater Sex. Pictures are pure sex, but arty too:

Blub blub!

Baloop, Bump

Last Man Dancing writes regarding the perils of too much vibration. Real fun with a vibrator:

You see, if I love doing one thing in sex, that’s playing my lover’s body like a keyboard. I had picked out my five worst ties and had her firmly tied to the four corners of the bed. On my hand, I had one of those Swedish massagers that straps to the back of the hand. I looked down at her tied to the bed and decided that she looked good enough to eat. I bent down and grabbed a mouthful of her breast and twirled her stiffening nipple with my hot wet tounge. She wiggled and leaned toward me moaning softly as I sucked her breast further into her mouth. As I slid over to suck on her other nipple I gently trace her aerola with the very tip of my saliva slick finger tip. I switched the massager on and grabbed her nipple between my vibrating fingers and squeezed. The little fucker swelled up like a fucking cherry and the Bitch went nuts. She’s lying there moaning and writhing against her ties, fucking the air with her cunt. So I stopped.

You stopped!

What are you fucking nuts?

Yeah, I fucking stopped. Nobody told her she could cum yet.

So I take my buzzy little fingers and go on a little adventure. I slid my vibrating digits and traced a windy road to her mound. Briefly, barely, I gave her clit a brief taste of what was yet to come and made a sharp right down her legs to the bottoms of her feet.

I kept this up for about a half an hour and when I finally got to her pussy, she was so dripping wet that two of my fingers just slid right in and I just squeezed and massaged her g-spot. I reached down and turned the dial up as far as it would go and palpatated The Perfect Bitch goes into what could best be described as a seizure. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She stopped breathing and her body lept about two feet into the air and stayed there as she did a wrestler’s bridge off the bed for a good 20 seconds. She then released, let out 5 or 6 loud “Oh-Oh-OH’s”, and an “uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh” when I asked her if she was okay. She then went stiff and locked up again for another 15 seconds. She comes down and she’s screaming like a banshee fucking my hand. I’m getting a little worried at this point so as ask her “More?” and she keeps nodding and pantiing and jerking her hips whispering “more, more, fuck me more, more, more.” I’ve got 4 meaty fingers up inside of her and she tightens up one last time and she’s writhing and screaming on the bed and her cunt is just squeezing the shit out of my hand in spasm after spasm.

Finally, she just passes out on the bed. She just laid there and didn’t move a muscle. She scared the shit out of me, I had to check if she was still breathing. I untied her. She had pulled so tightly against the restraints she had bruised her wrists. She’d live.

I threw a blanket over her and let her sleep.

A few hours later she woke up and tried to get out of bed to go take a piss. As she tried to stand, her legs gave out from underneath her. I fucking cracked up as she went “baloop, bump” on her naked ass. Her legs were numb and her knees were so weak she couldn’t stand. She complained that she had no feelings below her waist whatsoever. I helped her to the bathroom and she was okay after she started walking around a bit.

Christ, it took me almost an entire week to relearn how to just hold a pencil.

Women Should Remove Pants

That wacky king of Swaziland is at it again. He says:

The Bible says curse be unto a woman who wears pants, and those who wear their husband’s clothes. That is why the world is in such a state today.

Hereditary monarchy may not be the best form of government, but it certainly has greater potential to be entertaining than most of the other kinds.

Whipped Cream For The Sole

Here’s a little bit of tasty toe porn:

Ticklish feet, whipped cream, and an active tongue, what could be sweeter than that?

Second Guessing A Sex Columnist

Sasha, the sex columnist who writes Love Bites, is an unflappable non-judgmental sort, whose level-headed advice is surely a comfort to her readers and question-askers alike. But I guess I’ve become addicted to Dan Savage’s willingness to pass judgment, especially in cases where the seeker-after-wisdom is sorely in need of a swift kick-in-the-pants reality check.

An example. Someone asks Sasha a question that starts like this:

My girlfriend of three years has all the signs of vaginismus. Needless to say, there hasn’t been much funky lovin’ going on, and though I sure wouldn’t mind some, it’s not my primary concern — sex has been ruled out for other health-related reasons.

Ooh, sympathy begins to set in. Vaginismus and some other unspecified-but-surely-vile health problems that are none of our business. What, paralysis below the waist? Fibroids the size of grapefruits? Rampaging uncontrollable full-body yeast infections? We’ll never know, but it must be true love if it’s lasted three years nonetheless.

The question goes on:

It does concern me, though, that she’s never seen a gynecologist.

Well…yah. That’s putting it mildly.

So much for true love. This woman claims to love you, but she’s got health problems so severe she won’t-or-can’t make love to you, and she won’t even go to see a doctor?

Yeah, right. Sorry, buster, but you are being strung along. There’s just no other reasonable explanation.

The questioner goes on to request info on finding a doctor who knows about vaginismus, which info Sasha provides deadpan. She never even raises a metaphorical eyebrow to suggest that there might be some problem with this relationship beyond the purely medical. She just accepts this deeply implausible situation at face value.

Dan Savage would never have been so gentle.

Helping J Get Some

Here’s just about the nicest endorsement a sex blog can hope to get, from over at Naughty Secrets:

I’ve noticed that when T reads naughty blogs, she gets all randy. She usually starts with Eros Blog, and hits all the links that he has on there. That usually gets her engine running and that ends usually ends up with ‘naked snuggles’. Lucky me.

So, this is a thank you to Bacchus and everyone on the list to the left. Thanks for helpin’ me get some.

You are most welcome!

Masturbatory Admonitions For The Illiterate

This looks to be from a tent city in a hot place:

Thou shalt not strangle chickens, tenderize meat, or chastise monkeys. Not between noon and midnight. Or something like that.

Sailor Moon Exposed

I’m not entirely up on my anime, but I think this is Sailor Moon after some unfortunate enlargement surgery:

Whoa! When did they start building the little anti-grav units into the implants? Plastic, it’s such a forgiving medium.

The Nymph In My Net: Ticklish

So we were out grocery shopping today, looking for the goodies needed to help her feel at home in my our kitchen. Suddenly she’s holding up a Dawn Power Dish Brush and saying “Hey, this will help me get those glasses clean that I can’t fit my hand into….”

I take one look at this buzzing rotating pile of bristles (“a battery-powered, rotating bristle tool that redefines the way you do dishes”) and raise an eyebrow. “If we take that home, you think it’s ever going to make it to the kitchen?” She thought about it for a second, and laughed… and put it into the cart anyway. There’s a reason I love this woman.

Hey now, who am I to give her a second warning?

Fast forward an hour: after a quick wrestle, she’s face down on the bed, and I’m sitting on the edge with a calf clamped firmly in my right armpit and the sole of a bare foot imprisoned in front of me. Boy, do those rotating brushes get a good reaction! All three free limbs thumping the bedding, and a muffled “please oh please stop” coming from behind me somewhere. Or something like that, it’s hard to tell between all the laughing.

Eventually she found a way to distract me from my evil fun. Eight dollars well spent!

A Blow Job And A Prediction

Over at Diary of a Porn Publisher, I found this account of a clever attempt to evade the laws against prostitution:

“So, I’m walking down the sidewalk and a woman asks me if I want her to tell my fortune. When I pause, she tells me that she can tell my fortune from the taste of my cum, for $50. I ask, “just how does that work?” It turns out that she’ll give me a blow job and after I cum in her mouth, she can tell my future. It wasn’t a good time to dally to have my fortune told, but I’ve been thinking about this. Is it fortune-telling then, instead of prostitution? If it’s not illegal, maybe I should try to put together a stable of psychic cock-suckers for a new business venture.”

That could almost work.

Not What You Think

Guess what’s behind this link:

www.cummingfirst.com

Like I said, not what you think.

Dangerous Sex In The Laundry Room

Pagan Moss posted a teaser paragraph over at Peep Show Stories from her “sex filled, campy thriller called Laundry” — inspired by her “scary-ass basement laundry room.” It sounds like fun all right:

Kate took the wet laundry out of the washer and put it into the dryer, along with some fabric softener. She put four quarters into the slot. The dryer started up, sounding like a rolling drum. She stood there for a moment, sensing something wasn’t quite right. Before she could move, her head was covered by a sheet and a hand pressed hard against her mouth. A man’s voice whispered, “I’m not going to hurt you.” She couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. She struggled to get away, but the man just pulled her into his body tighter, dragging her backwards. Her feet kicked wildly and came off the ground. He pulled her into the room off the corridor and closed the door behind him. All was silent expect for the rolling drum of the dryer. The smell of fabric softener filled the air.

I want to see the part where she is molested by Snuggles the fabric softener bear.

Bears In Love

Here’s a pretty picture of “that infamous crime against nature”:

One of ’em, anyway.

Christian Fellatio: A Rant

Not my rant, I fear. But Violet Blue (whom I haven’t linked to in far too long) recently wrote a well-reviewed book about fellatio, and wonders thusly about the negative reviews from an unexpected quarter:

Why the hell are Christians reading my fellatio book, and even stranger, what unholy ghost possesses them to write bad reviews about it on Amazon? Like, duh — my book is about a very dirty sex act (the dirtier the better) and the content is… offending them! I can only guess that the book was recommended on some Christian messageboard, the ladies thought, well I spend a lot of time on my knees, why not make Jesus a happy man, and bought the book (I’ll take that money, thank you very much. No, no — don’t give it to the Family Values Coalition, give it to the cute girl with glasses who likes to write about sucking cock). Then they read the book and realized that to suck a cock, you need either a) another nice Christian lady with a (preferably huge) black strap-on cock, or b) a real, non-imaginary man (unlike Jesus). But seriously, in the book I don’t judge anyone’s preferences about anything — religion, sexual activity, gender, predisposition to get really wet imagining Mike Ditka throwing that football through the tire swing talking about erections while clutching my fellatio book cleverly camouflaged in a paper bag bookcover with the word “BIBLE” scrawled on the cover and “Jesus is really hot.” No, I judge not. Even I think Jesus deserves a really rockin’ blowjob. And doesn’t he have like a million volunteers for the task?

Mind Blowing Cunnilingus

Been busy here but having good fun. So I’ll steal these links from Daze: Mind Blowing Cunnilingus I and Mind Blowing Cunnilingus II.

More detailed and entertaining than the usual run of articles of this sort. Now for some testing….

The Nymph In My Net: Arriving Soon

Since Aimee asked, an update. The Nymph gets here tonight. As far as I’m concerned, today is Valentine’s Day, not yesterday.

And now, if you will excuse me, I need to go excavate a closet for her, and do what I can to sweep away the more uncivilized bits of evidence of my erstwhile bachelor existence. Like, you know, anything that involves live mold colonies.

Life is good. And getting better.

Sex Advice About Hot Wax

Sasha responds in her Love Bites column to a question about playing with hot wax. After some quick practical advice (no beeswax, best to use small white candles you can get a precise grip on, that sort of thing), she begins to get creative:

I was also curious about the wax people use to do their bikini lines and legs. Hmmm… how would that feel dribbled on the ass cheeks and other delicate areas, then ripped off? Kind of a reverse spanking. Delicious! So I got out the Test Buttocks and the Andrea Warm Wax Kit and experimented to see what happens.

Three hours later: OK, seriously you guys, BEST GAME EVER. I don’t like to quantify things this way, but I am going to put this in my top 10 sex experiences of all time. Not only is the hot-wax-dripping part of this exciting (you get excellent control with the small spatulas provided, and the wax is a beautiful teal green that goes pearly when it dries), but the tearing is apparently, for those who like this kind of pain, perfection. Tips: put the pot of hot wax on a plate to avoid a mess, hold the plate above the victim and start the dripping from a high level to establish thresholds. The wax can also be reused, but you may find certain impressions it makes lovely mementoes.

You’ve just got to love a sex advice columnist who keeps a set of “Test Buttocks” handy.

Redwhore Is An Optimist

Naw, that’s putting it too gently. Redwhore is probably dreaming. She writes:

Together, B and K make this enticing pair. In public, I am convinced that others look at us and assume they’re partners, because it’s rare to have such male beauty (booty) in the same place.

I’m trying to convince them both that it’s ok for me to rub their cocks at the same time and perhaps let the cocks touch for a quick pic…seriously…my TONGUE will be in it, for God’s sake! But they each just laugh at this and say (in the same, Alpha-male way): “Umm, NOT happenin’!”

I contend that if I sign a non-publish disclaimer and demand it as what I want, what I need!…they might give it up. I’m hopeful. The contrast of black and pink cock is just too sweet.

It’s that Alpha-male thing, Red. You know, that thing you like about them? I’m not saying you can’t make it happen, but that would be the way to bet. In any case, your (doubtless considerable) powers of persuasion are in for a workout.

A Sweet Valentine Full Of Sticky Cream

This delicious confection is by artist Raul Fernandez, who captions it “Carmela completes another of her cream-filled concoctions….”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Too Lazy For Kinky Sex

Despite its title, the article “Why I Can’t Rape My Wife” is pretty damned funny:

I’ve always wanted to be the High Lord of Depravity, but being fundamentally lazy and naive, I’ve come to realize that frankly, kinky sex is just too much work.

I broke up laughing at this:

Here’s the secret of cheap bondage: Your partner’s faking it. That ad-libbed knot at the right bedpost slipped twenty minutes ago, and he’s been working overtime to keep his hand in place. That blindfold-cum-scarf? She’s been peeking out from under since you started. Unless you’re some kind of sadistic boy scout, your trivial attempts at impromptu bondage are doomed to failure. You need the professional equipment, pal.

Long but worth it.

Happy Valentines, Puppy Style

There’s a great collection of printable Valentines cards at You, Yes You. (A donation to the artist’s beer fund is requested. Sez the artist: “Fuck Hallmark.”)

Anyway, this one is in honor of Jen’s “puppy style” improvement to the sexual lexicon:

Sniff! (And thanks to Eden for the link.)

Breast Of the Month

I know that in the current politically correct environment, a nursing woman’s breast is supposed to be devoid of all sexual connotation, and hence off-topic for a sex blog.

Screw that.

This breast of an Iraqi mother is prettier than Janet Jackson’s boob ever hoped to be.

From photographer Stephanie Sinclair.

The Nymph In My Net: Impossible Anticipation

Gentle Readers, I’ve been trying to play it cool, not pestering you with daily updates of “I love her and I miss her and she’s wonderful but she’s not here and if I have to wait another day I’m gonna explode!” All true, but it makes for boring prose unless you are a much better writer than I am.

But time marches on. She’s packing madly, and she’s going to be back (going to be back here with me!) in a week.

A week! It seems like forever.

I’m still: astounded; deeply honored; blessed; amazed; incredibly lucky; stunned…. You get the idea. It’s brave and incredible, what’s she’s doing for us, so that there can be an “us” without more long interminable months of being apart the way prudent boring people would probably handle this.

A week! Less than a week, I tell you!

Got Wood?

Here’s a funny picture in the best tradition of found pornography. Doggy style tree sex at its best! (Or should that be “puppy style”? Somebody recently called it that in my comments, and there’s a case to be made for the proposition that it sounds even more fun when you put it that way.)

The Girl In My Suitcase

Well, not in my suitcase, actually. But it’s not a bad idea. Talk about taking along all the comforts of home!

Anyway, this is from Suitcase Girl.

Thanks to TickleFight for the link.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• A Genuinely Hogtied Genuine Darling
• The Virtual Contortionist
• June Is Naked Bride Season
• Because She Can

Procreative Chastity, Anal Freedom

Here’s a museum-style picture of one of those historical chastity belts with which traveling men were once wont to encumber their wives:

Interestingly, although great and unsanitary lengths (note the viciously toothed slot) were taken to prevent the conception of unauthorized heirs, this device does not include the complete wrap-around iron strap with additional toothed opening at the rear, as was sometimes seen. Apparently the man buying this device was content to prevent good old vaginal sex; if he was concerned about any anal pleasure dalliances with the butler, he didn’t let it influence his purchasing decisions.

Penis Enlargement Firms Sued

In a story that of course has nothing at all to do with the previous spectacle, comes the news out of Denver that there’s a class action lawsuit afoot against snake oil salesmen penis enlargement product sellers:

A California man on Thursday sued a slew of international companies, including a Greeley distributor, alleging the penis-enlargement products they market and distribute do not work.

The lawsuit, filed in U.S. District Court in Denver, seeks class-action status to represent an estimated 1 million people who ordered the products in response to advertisements on television, radio and spam e-mail.

“I was wondering for a long time why no one has gotten around to suing these penis-enlargement guys, because it seems like a pretty blatant … fraud,” said New York lawyer Brad Corsello, who filed the lawsuit on behalf of Californian Jeffery Horton.
…
The lawsuit claims that oils and herbal supplements marketed by Leading Edge under the brand VigRx do not produce the promised permanent enlargement of the penis or cure for erectile dysfunction, among other things. The products cost an average of $110 apiece, according to the lawsuit.
…
The California man paid $160 for an order of VigRx Oil after receiving an unsolicited e-mail touting the product, according to his declaration.

“I used the products, but the products had no effect whatsoever,” Horton wrote. “I now feel that I have been cheated out of my money by the sellers of the products. If possible, I would like to prevent the sellers of the products from cheating others as they have cheated me.”

No effect whatsoever? How could a product with a forceful-sounding name like “VigRx Oil” not be effective? Shocking!

Thanks to J. Orlin Grabbe for the link.

Chastity, Not So Historical

Hmmm, apparently “historical” was a term I applied too quickly. Yahoo News reports:

Woman’s chastity belt set off airport security alarm

When a 40-year old British woman set off a metal detector alarm at Athens airport, bemused security staff found that it was caused by a chastity belt she was wearing.

“It happened a few days before Christmas. The metal detector went off and after a further check we found out she was wearing a chastity belt,” airport police official Dimitris Tzouvaras told AFP, confirming a report in the daily newspaper To Vima.

“The woman was allowed to fly on to London on the pilot’s responsibility,” Tzouvaras added Friday.

According to the press report, the woman told police officers her husband had forced her to put on the belt to make sure she had no extra-marital affair during a brief visit to Greece.

Extreme Porn Warning

OK. This link gets a disclaimer, because it’s way more explicit than I’m in the habit of posting. I mean, like, WAY more. But it’s so unusual, I cannot resist. Proceed at your own risk.

What we got here is a gallery of very close-up shots of a… what’s the non-judgmental word I’m searching for? Ah. Capacious. Yes, this link [now broken and gone, sorry] ought to lead you to pictures of a wide open and very (VERY!) capacious pussy.

Let’s see if those FleshBot weenies have the cojones to pick up this link! (Just kidding, Jonno!)

Gentle reminder to commenters: Be nice. Or keep it to yourself.

Go Navy!

Well, I guess I’d be happy if the Navy banner went:

Sports fans, gotta love ’em!

Prominent Nipples Made Easy

Hmmm, looking at the picture, a person has to wonder. Does Janet Jackson use one of these handy devices for keeping nipples popped up and ready for hanging hardware on?

“Easy to use: Pick your pump, slide your ring of choice on to pump applicator, squeeze the bulb to suck the nipple and slide the ring on.”

Sounds a little ouchie, but it oughta work!

Flunking Basic Anatomy

So I was reading this entertaining and erudite discussion of literary rejection slips and the joys of slushpile reading, when a fellow with experience reading the slushpile for an an erotic fiction publisher recalled coming over this appalling gem of bad dirty prose:

“Then he parted the twin nodes of her clitoris…”

Ouchies.

Cartoon Beauties

Time to start February off right with a friendly Japanese CG image. I’m not one to use crude slang a lot, but I must confess that a phrase including the word “munching” inescapably interjects itself into my internal speech centers while viewing this image.

Thanks to Bondage Blog for finding the link.