Month: November 2004

Santa’s Little Girl

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My dear sweet Doxy has put up her Bad Santa entry, An XXXmas Karol Typically, she kicked my ass and wrote a much better story. But I’m still ahead of her in Fantasy Football. Blah Blah, Disclaimer, incest, etc. You know the drill. It’s dirty as hell. Read it only if you’re one of us, […]

My dear sweet Doxy has put up her Bad Santa entry, An XXXmas Karol

Typically, she kicked my ass and wrote a much better story. But I’m still ahead of her in Fantasy Football.

Blah Blah, Disclaimer, incest, etc. You know the drill. It’s dirty as hell. Read it only if you’re one of us, not if you’re one of them.

Paying For It

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There’s something compelling about the idea of sex-for-hire. Let me back up a bit and put in a little context. You’d think I’d be the kind of guy who’d spent a lotta time in strip clubs. Hell, I am the kinda guy who’d spend a lotta time in strip clubs. But I have not. I […]

There’s something compelling about the idea of sex-for-hire.

Let me back up a bit and put in a little context.

You’d think I’d be the kind of guy who’d spent a lotta time in strip clubs. Hell, I am the kinda guy who’d spend a lotta time in strip clubs. But I have not. I don’t even know why; god knows I love strippers. I can’t think of anything not to like about the idea of a strip club.

Yet, I’ve been to very few. It’s a head scratcher.

So Saturday, for a combined birthday, we wound up finishing the evening at a strip club. There’s more to the story earlier, and possibly later, but I’ll stick with this for now. I’ll talk about Teatro ZinZanni in a different entry.

So, at this strip club, a number of lap dances were bought, some by me, some for me. And lots and lots of lap dances, and a lot of ‘private parties’ were offered as well. Evidently I was something of a stripper magnet in my leather utilikilt, shaved head, boots and tattoos. Well, that, and while I might be scary in a good way, at least to these ladies, I wasn’t creepy.

Read more “Paying For It”

Categories: sex

Skull Me!

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Dammit.

Don’t you hate when you find exactly what you’ve been looking for and you can’t have it?

No, dear, I’m not talking about you. I could be though.

I’ve been looking for a really cool skull ring. I have big hands and I need a substantial ring; I hate stuff that’s made to look scary, or monstery. I hate the ‘vampire skull’ stuff, the alien skulls.

I want something that’s heavy, silver, artistically designed, and looks like a real skull.

This fucking thing was perfect. Based on an actual ring Clapton has, or had, it was the right look, the right sort of size and weight, and reasonably priced.

And the damned company went out of business. Without taking down their web site. Fuckers.

So I’m back to shopping. If anyone’s seen a ring like that (realistic skull, now, not stupid GWAR shit), get me a pointer to it, or if you know a jeweler who could copy that ring from a picture (I know, but they went out of business, it seems fair…), send me a name.

Damn. I’m peeved. That was gonna be my xmas present.

‘Til the Season

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Hey, now that it’s officially no longer too early for christmas to — uh — come, let me post another plug. If you have not read it yet, take a gander at The Man with The Bag, my Bad Santa story. (Yeah, it’s non-consent erotica, read at your own risk) Feedback. It’s what I’m all […]

Hey, now that it’s officially no longer too early for christmas to — uh — come, let me post another plug.

If you have not read it yet, take a gander at The Man with The Bag, my Bad Santa story.

(Yeah, it’s non-consent erotica, read at your own risk)

Feedback. It’s what I’m all about. And not just the kind you get when you play your guitar in front of your amp.

My friend Circe has another Bad Santa story, and I am hearing a few more erotic christmas tales are in the offing; I’m all for putting the XXX in xmas.

Also of note — this sunday, 11/28, is the yearly lament of my birth. Go out and fuck somone in my honor, and make it hurt because that’s what I’d do if I were there.

And if you wanna send me something (other than you, in a pink ribbon and nothing else), there’s a wish-list link cleverly hidden on the side-bar. But better, give your money to charity.

Now it’s time for another bourbon egg-nog. Only hold the egg-nog.

Thankful For

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This could also have been titled ‘these are a few of my favorite things‘. Things for which I give purely lascivious thanks: Women who shave. Women who love me. Women who are not afraid to talk about it. I’m thankful for every woman out there who takes off her clothes and lets someone take pictures, […]

This could also have been titled ‘these are a few of my favorite things‘.

Things for which I give purely lascivious thanks:

Women who shave.

Women who love me.

Women who are not afraid to talk about it.

I’m thankful for every woman out there who takes off her clothes and lets someone take pictures, that I and others like me might enjoy such beauty.

I’m thankful for masturbation. It’s sex with someone I love.

I’m thankful for the taste of pussy, the feel of breasts in my hand, the curve of a beautiful ass against me.

I am thankful for the beauty of a woman’s orgasm.

I’m thankful for love, for romance, for unexpected connections with people far and wide.

I’m thankful for friendship and for people who listen when I need to talk.

I’m thankful for the words “I love you“.

I’m thankful that people read this shit.

This holiday is a trite, silly thing, but under it lies rites of the equinox, harvest festivals, libations to the gods. Today it’s about pilgrims in absurd hats (puritans — not people who should be celebrated, but instead reviled); it’s about turkey and cranberries, and stuffing.

So I do not, as a rule, give thanks this day. I see no gods, revere no higher power. What I have, I worked for, made, or was lucky to find. But sometimes, some ways, the universe provides; against great odds, things line up and go your way. That is what I am thankful for; the small bounties, the little things that make my life oh-so-much better.

It’s been an interesting year. Outside, in the great big world, there are bad things happening. Government, war, hate, stupidity. A moral crusade, in which I am most certainly the enemy, though my enemies don’t yet know it. But here — in the small places, the little space that is my life, it’s been a year of great bounty. Truly, I am thankful.

Beat Me To it

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Just for the fuck of it, I was just going to register erototoxins.com as a domain name. Some fucker beat me to it. Still, I had this other idea for a cafe press shirt I was gonna make; “I’m high on erototoxins“. Only my photoshop skills still suck. Anyone wants to do a design, I’ll […]

Just for the fuck of it, I was just going to register erototoxins.com as a domain name.

Some fucker beat me to it.

Still, I had this other idea for a cafe press shirt I was gonna make; “I’m high on erototoxins“. Only my photoshop skills still suck. Anyone wants to do a design, I’ll split the tree–fiddy I make selling erototoxins thongs with you! B^)

Hit me slowly, hit me quick!

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So as kind of an attention slut, I can’t help but keep an eye on my hits and stats and referrals (Where the hits come from). My best hit spikes have both been from mentions in erosblog, one of my favorite sex blogs. Both times my hits spiked through the roof, and I’m still getting […]

So as kind of an attention slut, I can’t help but keep an eye on my hits and stats and referrals (Where the hits come from).

My best hit spikes have both been from mentions in erosblog, one of my favorite sex blogs. Both times my hits spiked through the roof, and I’m still getting hits from both mentions.

But the funny thing I’m getting now is a steady wave of hits from google searches on the word “Erototoxins“.

This makes me laugh. I’m hoping some of these are coming from the insane people who actually thing all this makes sense. But in any case I just think it’s funny how many times each day I’m still seeing referrals based on that word. If I’ve actually picked up any readers from that, folks, let me know, that will be a cherry on top. I keep trying to find a way to work erototoxins into everyday conversation since it’s such a silly word.

When I started blogging I really didn’t want anyone to read this. I was doing it for myself. Somewhere along the line that changed and I wanted to make sure I stayed visible and had an audience. That’s a double-edged sword; I know I’m more restrained in what I write here now, since people I might talk about are reading this, people I might not be talking about might assume I’m talking about them, and — well, people are reading, and I am aware of it. On the other hand, knowing people read this makes me update it; when my audience was about three people, I updated only once in a great while.

In other news, people keep asking me for details on last weekend’s party. Lets’ just say it wasn’t my party and they were not my details, so I promised not to confess too much here. I will say, though, that I spent most of sunday in bed; I’ll also say that my children were not the least bit surprised and alarmed to find two people passed out in my living room, nor were they in any way concerned to find daddy in bed that morning cuddled up with a lovely woman who was not mommy. “Oh, hi!” they said; “We didn’t know you were here!” They’re pretty damned cool kids.

Queen Padme Nipplelicious

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Wow does Queen Amidala (Natalie Portman) have nice nipples. (That link may have gone down or may be over-loaded, try again later if you get an error – Thanks to Fleshbot for that link)

Wow does Queen Amidala (Natalie Portman) have nice nipples.

(That link may have gone down or may be over-loaded, try again later if you get an error – Thanks to Fleshbot for that link)

Categories: sex

Dinner party, after dinner party, after party party.

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There was a birthday dinner party. Which sort of went on after dinner, and then on way after bedtime, and then wound up going on until most of us passed out. Some things were said, during, and after: “These aren’t my clothes. Whose clothes am I wearing? Where are MY clothes?” “We all agree you […]

There was a birthday dinner party. Which sort of went on after dinner, and then on way after bedtime, and then wound up going on until most of us passed out.

Some things were said, during, and after:

“These aren’t my clothes. Whose clothes am I wearing? Where are MY clothes?”

“We all agree you were the cutest drunk ever”

“Get the tequila! No glasses, we’re passin’ the jug.”

“You wanted to come home with us. You even asked permission.”

“Was I mean to you last night? I have to have been mean to someone.”

“That was very sweet of you. Also kind of opportunistic.”

“Take these back to the store, and tell then ‘We had five of us in the bed last night trying these and they didn’t get anyone off'”

“I’ve never been this hung over at someone else’s house before.”

“Whose idea was it to drink tequila?”

“Dad, there are two people asleep in the living room, and I can’t find the remote control.”

“Did you wash my hair?” “Yeah, and I also shaved you.”

“Damn, I forgot to take my birth control pills.”

“When did you get here?” “After you got drunk, but before you passed out.”

“I don’t remember any of it.”

Really, despite some spectacular hangovers, it was a very good party.

Categories: sex

Erototoxins

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From Wired: Internet pornography is the new crack cocaine, leading to addiction, misogyny, pedophilia, boob jobs and erectile dysfunction, according to clinicians and researchers testifying before a Senate committee Thursday. Here’s a Link to the whole ugly thing. Sweet Jumping Jesus on a Pogo Stick, what’s wrong with these people? Some of the nicest people […]

From Wired:

    Internet pornography is the new crack cocaine, leading to addiction, misogyny, pedophilia, boob jobs and erectile dysfunction, according to clinicians and researchers testifying before a Senate committee Thursday.

Here’s a Link to the whole ugly thing.

Sweet Jumping Jesus on a Pogo Stick, what’s wrong with these people?

Some of the nicest people I know are pornographers. The internet was built on porn money. Porn’s as fundamental to being human as art is.

Hell, if monkeys could paint, they’d have porn too.

Oh god. How about this one?

    Judith Reisman of the California Protective Parents Association suggested that more study of “erototoxins” could show how pornography is not speech-protected under the First Amendment.

Erototoxins? What The Fuck.

These people need to die. Quickyly and painfully. And repeatedly, if that were possible.

Erototoxins. Hell, that actually sounds like a punk band, doesn’t it?

Categories: sex