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August 14th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Fresh Buttercream

This afternoon, I was propped up on my bed with a fancy coffee at hand and a good kinky novel on my Kindle. I was deliberately staying out of the kitchen at the front of the house, because The Nymph was in a whirling frenzy of cake decoration. Proof of frenzy:

a mess of broken eggs and sticky paper towels next to a can of Crisco and a cake pan

Suddenly The Nymph burst into the bedroom, moving fast, with all the adrenaline of a woman on a mission. She waved a large silicone spatula covered in fresh buttercream at me and demanded “I need you to test this frosting!”

I gave her a big smile, took the spatula, paused long enough for her impatience to kick in, and then told her “Sure! Turn around, bend over, and drop your panties for me.”

The look of shock on her face was priceless. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. Why not? I don’t know. She’s known me for decades, and I am a predictable man.

Sadly she did not turn, et cetera. But she did laugh delightedly. Take your wins, gentlemen, where you can get them.

But I wasn’t quite done playing. I teased her a little bit more about frosted buns, the subject changed, we joked back and forth, I kept holding the spatula. She is just as predictable as I am; when she’s on a creative mission, her singlemindedness of purpose is never far from the surface. (In truth there was never any genuine hope of distracting her for more than a moment from the day’s cake decorating.)

After a bit of further lighthearted conversation, she asked again, impatiently: “No, really, what do you think of the frosting?”

Instead of tasting it, I made direct eye contact and just… paused. Right when her mouth opened to speak again, I asked her “Do you know what I need before I can taste this?” Completely puzzled — my original proposition already forgotten — she half-snapped “No, what?”

Channeling all the book boyfriends in those kinky novels, I just raised my right hand, and when she looked at it in puzzlement, I twirled my finger, ever so slowly, in the universal symbol for “turn around and show me what you got.” Her eyes got real big for a second. Then she put all together. This time she laughed a lot harder.

After that I tasted her buttercream and she went back to her kitchen. (You may interpret that sentence however you like.)

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August 13th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

The Eternal Problem Of Porn Curation

I am a nut, and my nuttery takes several very narrow and specific shapes. One of those shapes is my eternal obsession with the problem of porn curation: how do we publish, distribute, discover, access, and preserve access to ephemeral erotic material in a world where #pornocalypse and its social cousins have denied independent porn creators most access to search, social media, and the payments system?

Thus when I saw a Mastodon post blurbing Miss Pearl’s latest blog post On Having Porn For Dommes in terms of the “curation and censorship problem” affecting such porn, I knew it would perforce be relevant to my interests.

Longtime readers know that my BDSM porn interests as displayed here on ErosBlog are dirt-common, with male-gaze M/f porn at the top of the list, followed by the usual substantial fraction of commercial F/f material and then by token amounts of F/m and M/m stuff. That said, the Femdom Resource blog (written by a male client and appreciator of pro dommes, but ranging widely across the femdom content space) is one of my frequently-linked favorites, and I have a long history of featuring nonprofessional or lifestyle femdom bloggers (like Bitchy Jones) on the rare occasion that I’ve been able to find them under the avalanche of cookie-cutter pro-domme “spam” (promotional) content that floods most available channels. O Miss Pearl (subtitle: “non-professional perspective femdom & kink, with awesome erotica”) was therefore an instant addition to the ErosBlog blogroll as soon as I saw it.

But what about the “domme gaze drought” (as she teased it on Mastodon) in Miss Pearls’ recent post?

It has been true for the entire lifetime of this blog that fictional depictions of dominant women are really limited, and most typically tailored to what subs are attracted to. Or being more precise, what a certain paying audience of sub men will purchase. This standard tends to depict dominance in women as a vocation performed for the benefit of subs (or their vulnerability and persecution fantasies) and is often gender regressive as heck.

Yup, that sounds right; this isn’t content that I actively search for, but I do watch for it (if that distinction makes sense) and I don’t see much of it.

Her wide-ranging post covers a lot of subtopics in plenty of detail, but I began crying my amens when I got to this part about the problems facing porn creators:

Let’s drop some of our illusions about porn and how it’s made.

Porn, contrary to the way we talk about it, is a marginalized industry, disproportionately queer, with most people not making much money. Artistic talent and skill are not evenly distributed – nevermind that you need to be a wizard at marketing, with a work ethic that is punishing on the body to make it as any kind of artist, sexy or not. That’s on top of an ever increasingly sanitized internet and the frankly censorship oriented nature of most payment providers and most publishing platforms.

Writing, illustration and modeling are also incredibly poorly paid, whether it’s R, E, or P. One of the first things consumers need to know is that the big names are lottery winner, and most stuff falls into the obscure outsider art and cottage industry level. People who create stuff are not trying to cater to the patriarchy to be willing agents of it, they are navigating razor thin profits, fussy platforms and content saturation of a competition that puts you at odds with not only every creator currently working right now, but every surviving work running back more than a thousand years. And every other possible way humans can amuse or occupy their time.

There follows a highly educational tour of the deep weeds of the curation problems faced by Miss Pearl’s specific porn genre of interest. I’m not dismissing any of that by failing to quote or summarize it here; you’ll want to read it yourself in any case. (Yes, dear readers, I am telling you, yet again, that you’ll need to clicky the damn linky. This is a 22-year-old blog; it can serve as social media, but it doesn’t do so without reader participation.) Miss Pearl calls for smart and aggressive curation of niche porn (the fans cheer), talks about the value of self-hosting (a subject long dear to my own heart), and concludes that domme-gaze porn “isn’t reaching the audience. It’s fragmented across different platforms, only has so much advertising and the market it might have doesn’t know it exists.”

In conclusion, Miss Pearl points out that making niche porn is a fiscally-irresponsible artistic act, and that we need to be better curators and better fans if we want to encourage it:

Someone who is an honest to goodness lifestyle domme for real and a good creator, if they are being fiscally responsible, is much better off making something else.

If you want to turn that around, we have to actually make more of a project of curation and sharing out of it, and you are simply going to have to be more assertive fans. You are also going to need to develop a lot more gentleness around the content you consume.

Indeed.

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August 11th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Gloryhole Deep Throat

There’s an anonymous cum-thirsty brown-complected cutie working the glory hole booths at Gloryhole Swallow tonight:

Click on the stills below to enlarge the triptych for a lot more glory hole deep throat details.

three views of a gloryhole sex worker gobbling an anonymous cock

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August 9th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Enticing Graffiti

“What if we kissed in the murder tunnel?” It’s a once-in-a-lifetime offer!

graffiti outside a dark culvert

On the one hand, everybody says you’re supposed to match energies with your lover. On the other hand, what if they are of the fey, and they secretly need to steal your bones but aren’t allowed to lie to you?

You were raised to be a sensible young thing who stays out of the murder tunnel. But — wouldn’t it be exciting?

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August 7th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Big Pole Vaulter

For French pole vaulter Anthony Ammirati at the Olympics a few days ago, it was both the best of times and the worst of times. The bad news is, he knocked down the crossbar and didn’t make his jump, keeping him out of the finals and away from medal opportunities. But the good news? He failed because the bulge of his enormous cock snagged the crossbar, and the video clip of his manly prowess immediately went super-viral.

For however long viral fame lasts, he’s got the most famous dick since Rasputin’s.

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August 6th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

No More Bear Meat In Glory Hole

Over the weekend, bears briefly became a part of the national conversation due to fringe presidential candidate RFK Jr. admitting he once left a dead bear in Central Park as a practical joke. (Yeah, that sentence is a lot. Take a second. Let it wash over you. Breathe in. Breathe out. OK, now we continue.)

The news was received on social media with the amount of levity you would expect. Which prompted someone to reminisce about a long-ago news story from the Associated Press with the headline “No More Bear Meat In Glory Hole”. A friend of mine spotted the reminiscence and knew I was the person to ask: was there ever really such a headline?

There was, my friends. There was:

news story about bear meat at the glory hole soup kitchen in Juneau Alaska

As disappointing as this headline must have been for the horny young twinks who hang around in that one special restroom stall at the municipal fairgrounds, long-time readers of this blog will see the “Juneau, Alaska” dateline on the AP store and realize we’ve already discussed the glory holes of Juneau at length. The bear meat headline that looked so funny was in fact a blow to local charitable efforts; the Glory Hole mentioned in the article is a soup kitchen and the bear meat formerly went into the soup.

Why is there a small-town soup kitchen called “The Glory Hole”? That’s literally a long story. Short version: “Glory hole” was a mining term for a certain kind of big hole in the ground long before it was a gay cruising thing, and drunken down-on-their-luck laborers in an isolated (no roads to Juneau) mining town were thus said to be “down the glory hole”. And so it was, in a nod to that tradition, that the Juneau Cooperative Christian Ministry opened a soup kitchen in 1981 and named it The Glory Hole. As I wrote before:

Did they know about gay sexual slang, these charitable Christian people, back in 1981, in that little town with no roads going in or out, before the internet, before the cruise ships started bringing five million visitors a year? Was it naïve to name a soup kitchen by local tradition in a town of less than 20,000 residents that was 1500 miles from San Francisco? Would they have cared if indeed they did know about the gay slang? Or would they have laughed it off as an irrelevant oddity of far-distant urbanites?

A lot of people have gotten a lot of laughs about that long-ago naming choice, sure. But a lot of hot meals got served at The Glory Hole, too.

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August 5th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Monster Fucker Monday #12

He’s big. He’s blue. He’s got horns. And wings. And a fat cock with nubbins for her pleasure. Is she an adventurous elf princess with an elastic anus? Yes she is!

adventurous elf woman takes on a gargoyle demon, anally

This is from the XES Fantasia doujinshi manga comic, via Kinky Delight.

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