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The Sex Blog Of Record
August 10th, 2026 -- by Bacchus
When showerbeerr tells men “you can absolutely get your girl to do a threesome with you if you just get a little bit more gay” it doesn’t come as a surprise to me at all. I see the TikTok/BookTok ladies talking about this all the time. When they read menage fiction, they want MMF, not MFM — and yes, the letter placement matters. They want “the boyfriends to be boyfriending” or there’ll be no joy in Mudville whatsoever.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence she critiques male erotic “literacy” specifically here:
You can absolutely get your girl to do a threesome with you. You just have to get a little bit more gay. That is the solution.
Because anytime I have a conversation with a man about this, I’m not loving the pitch. To be honest, I’m not impressed. They’re always like, would you be open to something like that? And I’m like, yes, let’s hear it, let’s hear the pitch.
And they get all excited, they’re like, okay, cool. So it has to be with another girl. That’s the only option. And I’m like, ah, like, it’s a little rigid. It’s a little rigid. Don’t you care about what my fantasy is? Cause it’s not necessarily that. I’m open to some other stuff.
And they. They’re like, what do you mean?
And I’m like, well, what about another guy? Two guys? And they look at me like I just asked them to punch their mom in the throat or something. Like I just said something so fucking crazy. And the truth is, like, I’m on some Challengers shit, and they’re on some fluorescently lit video on the homepage of a website they only visit in the incognito browser.
Shit, you know, like if men think that they are so adventurous, that they’re so erotically intelligent, really you’re just trying to recreate something that you’ve seen on the most depraved, exploitative alleyways of the internet. That’s not adventurous. Like, you are fucking vanilla. It’s literally vanilla.
And then, you know, we start talking about it more, and they’re like, okay, fine, fine, fine. We can do two guys. Fine. But I’m not kissing him, I’m not touching him, and I’m not kissing him.
What the fuck do you think this is? What do you think this is? Why would I want that? Why would I want a situation where you guys are not interacting? Seriously? Um, if you are vanilla, that’s totally fine. And most straight guys are. Just admit it. The only literacy you have in the subject is something you’ve seen in a really dark, exploitative fantasy that I don’t wanna recreate. I don’t wanna recreate videos that you’ve seen on the internet.
Right. It’s about being open. It’s about, like, letting the dynamic unfold. It’s about seeing what’s gonna happen and, like, rolling with the punches. And most straight guys just can’t do that. And that’s totally fine, but stay in your lane. Please don’t bring this to my desk ever again.
Probably I should take this moment to remind people that I quote things all the time here on ErosBlog without agreeing with every jot and tittle. Specifically in this case I don’t agree that common porn scenarios are exploitive in general or that (as this commentator implies) the uber-common man-with-two-women threesome-sandwich fantasy is exploitive in specific. But I do agree that it’s somewhat vanilla and boring, especially from a woman’s perspective. I’m not trying to police women’s fantasies when I say this, but I’d guess that at least eight out of ten times it’s fanservice for a man’s fantasy, not a woman’s. If you want to engage her erotic imagination, propose the sort of threesome she’s going to find erotic, duh…
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August 8th, 2026 -- by Bacchus
This lineup of naughty porn-star perps ready for their strip search (or their spankings, not sure which) is cropped from a larger photo that appeared in a 2011 shoot/gallery that was marketed (at sites that no longer exist) under the titles Magnificent Seven and/or Group Strip Perfection:
As the titles suggest, the full photo has seven panties-down models in it. The cheeky ladies are identfied as Dakota, Ivana Fukalot, Mia Mayblack, Mika A, Romea, Sasha Blonde, and Stasha.
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August 6th, 2026 -- by Bacchus
Recently I saw a bitter complaint from an enlightened gentleman who correctly pointed out that trollish internet misogynists had deprived an entire generation of men. How? By inventing the derisive term “tramp stamp” for the sexy tattoos that women place in the small of their backs or right at the top of their butt cheeks. Such a sex-negative sobriquet has surely reduced the number of these tattoos on display whenever the weather is warm, or (even better) when it’s face-down-ass-up sexy-time in a bedroom near you.
I am ashamed to realize I accepted that judgmental nomenclature for many years without a second thought. But at least I didn’t contribute significantly to tramp-shaming; I can only find two ErosBlog posts with “tramp stamp” in them. Better yet, one of them features Donald Trump’s poorly-rendered ugly mug, and the other one put “tramp stamp” in scare quotes while addressing some issues the ancient Greeks may or may not have had with these tattoos.
Be all that as it may, I’m now delighted to learn that there’s a new, much more sex-positive nomenclature in town. These tattoos are tramp stamps no longer; the fun kids are calling them “cake toppers” now! And I, for one, welcome our new pastry-decorated overladies:
Self-described sassy redhead Juniper Anne says
Since tramp stamps are now being referred to as cake toppers, I’m thinking about getting one that says:
All you can eat carrot cake
Baked fresh daily
Homemade
For professional eaters only
But it’s a little long, and a little too forward. What do you think? Should I do it?
I’ll do it. Don’t tell me to do it. Okay, bye-bye.
Do it!
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August 4th, 2026 -- by Bacchus
We don’t have enough context to know precisely why our hungry heroine is on her knees in a tiled shower stall with four burly men, draining their balls and getting all sticky. Perhaps she has a praise kink, and their warm regard is all the incentive she needs. Maybe she’s got a thirst for cum. Maybe she’s a groupie, and they control doors she wants to pass through. Everybody wants something in this life:
The fun thing about art is that a lot of the time, we get to write our own story. We might not be “right”, but we can’t be wrong, either!
This illustration is by Adler.
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August 2nd, 2026 -- by Bacchus
I’m not sure I’m 100% on board with the modern “eaters” slang for men who are avid cunnilingus enthusiasts. Perhaps I’ve watched too many zombie movies. But the cultural zeitgeist goes where it will, without consulting me. And Shawna says eaters are a problem:
I do occasionally indulge in “real men” discourse, and I’m indulging myself now: with appropriate consents in place, real men aspire to be precisely this kind of problem!
Transcript:
Eaters are a fucking problem, okay? I don’t make the rules, they just are. They will hold your ass down in that fucking sniper position and you’re not going fucking anywhere. Okay? You think you’re done? No. Haha, no, no, no, no, no. Not until they are. Whenever they’re pleased with their work, they will let you know. But until then, you are at their mercy.
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July 31st, 2026 -- by Bacchus
I am not enough the art historian to comment intelligently on what an engraver of the Italian Renaissance was trying to say about beauty and eroticism when he produced an engraving of ten naked men with superbly-delineated muscles (and the proverbial tiny dicks of classical art) all hacking each other to death with swords and axes. But saying something about them, I am quite sure that he must have been:
The etching is Antonio Pollaiuolo’s Battle Of Naked Men AKA Battle Of The Nudes at the Cleveland Museum Of Art. This scan was sent to me by a learned friend, who found it in a well-thumbed university-library volume of philosophy, namely Ways Of Worldmaking by Nelson Goodman (1978).
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July 29th, 2026 -- by Bacchus
I grew up hearing people talk about “playing footsie under the table” without ever really having a clear and literal understanding of what they meant. They used it metaphorically to mean “fucking around and wasting time”, which I understood; but I come from a rural hellscape land of mud and snow and heavy work boots; nobody’s tables had long concealing tablecloths, and nobody wore the kind of fancy shoes you could slip off discretely, one foot with the other. In case you, too, were somehow allowed to proceed through life without ever gaining clarity on the concept of how footsie is performed, it starts like this:
This footsie artwork is by Alazar, and comes from the February 1991 issue of Leg Show magazine.
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