Rule 34

Rule #34: If it exists, there is porn of it.

In this case, Rule 34 is applied to World of Warcraft. And believe it or not, this example is pretty tame compared to what's out there.

Secret Plot (vol 1)

I love me some cartoon boobies. They're always so round and buoyant and big and always on display.

I came across this comic some time ago, and I have yet to find one that's as sexy, well drawn, and entertaining.

Secret Plot is an erotic manga comic that follows the sexual escapades of two high school teachers. Click the pic to check out the first volume, Junkie Teacher

UPDATE: Apparently, Photobucket doesn't like this comic as much as I do. So, I'm going to have to try finding a new home for these pics.

UPDATE 2: Tsera, over at Under the Crimson Moon has graciously donated some server storage! Thanks, Tsera!

First you get the Sugasm (124)

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #125? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
In Which Penny Enjoys Her Bath
“In the bathroom, I flipped on the heater and shed my clothes.”

Just passing through
“I twitched under her stare.”

Kegal exercises on wet Monday afternoon
“Do you know what it’s like, to be buggered?”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
WP/PHP Guru?

Editor’s Choice
More Traveling…

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Though We've Never Met

Paths Cross

Several years ago, I started visiting a message board. It was an erotic roleplaying, or ERP, board. And yes, by "erotic" I mean cyb0rz. Each person would have one character (some had 2 or 3) that they RPed. The board had a theme, and the posters would start storylines in which different characters would participate.

I admit, not many of the threads had what you might call "plot", but what they lacked in actual storytelling, they made up for it with the sheer hotness of the sex.

Some people came and went, but there was kind of a core of posters, myself included. What was great about it was that I was the only male in this core of about 6 people. That means my character got a LOT of pussy.

After a while, a new participant with a new character showed up. We didn't hook up at first; I think we just kept missing each other. It doesn't matter. When our characters did finally meet up, there was a strong attraction right off the bat. They got along well. Which is to say their sex was very, very hot, and very long, and our characters liked to fuck each other whenever possible. She - let's call her Mya - quickly became my favorite poster.

Over the next few months, while our characters were fucking each other's brains out in every position and location imaginable, the board's politics started to make it unpleasant to visit.

Without getting into any of that drama, suffice it to say that Mya and I stopped visiting the site. I should also add that Mya and I had become friends outside of the virtual world our imaginations fornicated in. So, when the message board collapsed, we kept in contact via email.

We talked about our lives, and whatever else, but we also continued our roleplaying. We no longer used the characters we'd created for the message board, however. Instead, we would make up stories, and she would write from one of the person's point of view, and I would write from the other person's. We'd email these passages back and forth, adding to these stories, some with more than 50 emails.

Blurred Lines

I don't really know when or how it happened, but the veil separating imagination from reality began to dissolve. After sharing in imaginary sexual situations with Mya for so long, we became familiar with each other's real sexualities. She learned what kind of things got me really fired up, and I learned what got her moist. We talked about our past sexual escapades, and our mutual openness. I learned that she loves sex and likes to fuck as often as possible, she likes to give blowjobs and have her hair pulled while she's being fucked doggy style. She learned similar things about me.

As always, our emails drifted toward sex, even if they began with the most innocent of intentions. They were about what we wanted to do to each other; how I'd love to suck her tits, how she'd love to swallow my cock, how I would bend her over my desk and fuck her mercilessly, etc. However, the difference between these emails and all our other sexual interactions is that these fantasies and desires weren't being vicariously channeled through imagined characters. We were directly telling each other how bad we wanted to fuck, suck, lick, stroke, and everything else, even saying so much as "I wish you were here so I could..."

Over time, these emails became less frequent. Our lives got busier, and we just didn't have the time to write all this erotica back and forth. However, I still have a strong physical attraction to her, and I miss our correspondences greatly. She stirred up desires and passions in me I've never felt before, and I always knew she was open to raunchy vulgarity. Nothing was ever inappropriate. I could send her an email out of the blue saying that I had a huge erection, and she would reply with a list of ways she could relieve me of it.

I still go back occasionally and read some of our old email threads, in the hope of renewing some of the feelings they invoked.

One-Afternoon Stand

I don't know if she's ever given any serious thought to the things we say to each other in our emails, but I have.

I can't speak for her, but I feel that she and I have a connection. That connection includes friendship and platonic caring, but it also includes a desire for a face-to-face meeting, and the hopes that our emails aren't "Just Talk." I want to do the things we've talked about in our stories and emails. I want to lick her pussy. I want to titty-fuck her. I want her to suck my dick. I want her to ride me in the back seat of my car. I want her to jerk me off in a dark movie theater. I want to do so many things.

Unfortunately, we live several states away from each other. She used to live an hour or so from where I live now, though that was years before I moved here. We're also each in our own relationships.

I don't want to take her from her current S.O., nor do I want to leave mine for her. I don't want to ruin any families or lives. I just want her to see how much I've enjoyed our friendship over the last few years, and how much she's inspired me.

If she ever comes back to her old home town, I would love to meet her for lunch. If that's all she would want, that's fine. I'll respect her desires, and we could have a wonderful lunch, then go back to our lives.

If she shared even a fraction of the lust I feel, then I could take the afternoon off of work, and we could really get to know each other. Then, once sated, we would depart, and go back to our lives. Our afternoon would be just between the two of us; no one would ever know. Just a one-afternoon-stand, if you will.

Beautiful Dark Faerie

It's sights like these that make going to Renaissance Faire so enjoyable. Every once in a while, you'll see a beautiful girl dressed in period clothes, or in more fantastical clothes. And that usually means corsets/bodices. And that usually means acres of cleavage. While this lovely young lady is struggling for every centimeter of cleavage she can get, she's lucky to have an attractive overall package.

Unfortunately, these visions of beauty are usually few and far between. I suppose this scarcity has a similar ratio to the number of attractive females in the general geek culture as a whole.

Sexy Geek

Having a beautiful face and a sexy body is one thing, but when you add higher than average intelligence and a great sense of humor, you're in a much higher echelon than most everyone else.

Put your dick away, I'm on the phone!

This video has so many layers of awesome... Let's count:
1. Beautiful girl with massive tits
2. Those tits are getting fucked
3. Big cumshot, splattering her face and chest
4. Camera angle that allows you to vicariously imagine you're the one fucking those huge, beautiful breasts
5. Her boobs are out, and her s.o. is fucking them while she's talking on the goddamn phone!!

Cheerleader

Why don't girls like that shop at the stores I shop at?

If the neck dipped a bit lower, say to the top of the letters, that would be a great titty-fucking shirt. Just have her slather some KY on my hard cock, pull the bottom of the shirt up so I can see the bottoms of her fat titties, then just slide my lubed pole between those smooth, firm globes and go to town. With that face watching, it certainly wouldn't be long before I was painting her chin with my semen.

Swashbuckler

It's pictures like these that make me wish I could draw. I would love to be able to draw erotic comics, to be able to show what's going on in my mind.

If I could draw, I could breathe life into these characters, bring them off the page and make things easier to visualize. I have so many fantasies and desires in my head that are kinda difficult to write as a short story, since often it's a brief feeling, or a glimpse of something... does that make sense? I don't know, I don't think I'm making sense any more.

Sexy Vendor

I went to the supermarket on my lunch break to pick up a few things. As I turned a corner, I caught sight of a vendor (you know, the people from various companies that send their own people to stock their merchandise) crouched down, putting some boxes of her product on the bottom shelf of the display. Before someone stepped between us to block my view, I had about a half-second to realize two things: she had a nice body, and I think that was part of a g-string peaking out above the waistband of her blue pants.

But before I could be totally sure, that person interrupted my line of sight, and by the time they moved on, the woman was standing again, so I didn't get a chance to investigate further.

That was such a nice deviation from the normal (male) vendors I see in grocery stores.

Afternoon Delights

On my way back from lunch today, I saw a sexy woman pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk. She was wearing tight yoga pants and a size-too-small white hoodie, and her silky brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail. I didn't get a look at her face, since she was walking the same direction I was driving, but I really doubt she was anything less than stunning.

There's something about young, sexy moms that really gets me going. MILFs have a certain sexiness about them... kind of like a "I don't get nearly enough sex" kinda vibe. Or maybe it's the mystique that someone like me automatically applies to them. A mystique about their hidden passions, their forbidden desires. Those urges that this wholesome, loving, caring mother might be afraid to show to even a limited public. It's like by dressing passively suggestive - in this case, the yoga pants and hoodie that deliciously show off her slender waist and tight little ass - they're saying, "just get us alone and I'll do things to you that would make a porn star blush!"

But maybe that's just me.

By the time I'd driven past her, I was already forming scenes in my mind. For example, perhaps when she got home she'd put her baby down for a nap and once the little tyke was asleep, there'd come a knock at the door. She'd open it and there would be an attractive man named Christian there; a man that wasn't her husband. She'd let him in, and once the door closed them from the prying eyes of her neighbors, their lips would lock and clothes would start to fly.

Doubts would creep into her mind; she shouldn't be doing this, she was a married woman, he was a married man... But her husband rarely made love to her anymore. She was at the height of her sexual prowess, and she needed to be satisfied. And she knew that Christian's wife couldn't suck cock like she did; he'd told her after the first time she'd swallowed his load.

So they both had needs that their spouses couldn't fulfill. So why shouldn't they help each other out? That's what good, kind-hearted people do, right?

But any thoughts of impropriety or infidelity always fled her mind the moment she freed his member. Christian was considerably bigger than her husband, and knew how to use his glorious tool to both their benefit.

Normally, she would drop to her knees and suck the thick, throbbing cock until the warm, slippery semen filled her mouth. But today, she had other needs burning deep in her belly.

"Fuck me," she would whisper into his ear as she stroked his shaft. "Fuck my hot, smooth, dripping pussy." She'd turn and lead him by the cock over to where her husband usually sat to watch TV. She'd lean forward, arching her back to give Christian the best possible view of her toned ass and freshly-shaven pussy.

With her face buried in the cushion of the chair to muffle her screams and moans, the man that is not her husband would drive his cock into her neglected pussy, pounding, slamming, ramming into her harder and faster until the one final scream would herald her crashing orgasm. Clenching and spasming around his piston, her climax would drive Christian to his own, and within seconds his warm seed would fill her.

They'd play a little more, maybe she'd suck his cock clean, maybe he'd lick her clean. Sometimes they would help each other get dressed. Then with a deep, passionate kiss and a final squeeze of her ample breasts, Christian would reach into his pocket and hand her the twice-folded bundle of six one-hundred dollar bills before slipping out the door.

She usually had an hour, after Christian left and before the baby woke up, to relax and get dinner started.

Casual Friday

I step out of my office and stop when I look up from the papers I was going to have Stephanie make copies of.

"What are you doing?" I ask, aware that my dick is beginning to harden. Wearing boxers, the thick ridge would be noticeable in seconds. But I don't care.

"You said Fridays are Casual Days." She kicks her red panties aside as she puts her feet on the floor and stands up.

"By 'casual' I meant jeans. Not this." I gesture to her current state of dress.

"I'm sorry," she says as she saunters over to stand in front of me. "Don't you like how I'm dressed?"

"It's not a matter of taste," I reply, my voice quavering as her breasts sway with each step. "It's not appropriate for the workplace."

"Maybe we should go in your office, then." She brushes past me with a smooth smile on her lips, but no before she squeezes the thick pole tenting the front of my pants. After a moment, I follow.

Clandestine

Last night I had a dream about a woman. I'd met her at a social gathering, and throughout the dream I had an underlying feeling that I was married or seeing someone already. As the dream went on, this woman and I started to become attracted to each other.

She was a vision of beauty. She had a Mediterranean or perhaps a Latino complexion, silky dark hair, and perfect curves; she may have looked like Monica Bellucci or Catherine Zeta-Jones or a not-quite-so-busty Denise Milani.

Our physical touching became more intimate, and before too long, we were kissing softly when we thought no one was looking. We could both tell that we wanted to make love to each other, but the circumstances wouldn't allow it. There was passion and desire between us, but we couldn't do anything about it.

It was imagining what would have happened that got me off this morning. It was the memory of the dream, the way my mind formed her beauty that made me hard. I was slowly, and tortuously removing her dress as I started stroking, growing harder in my hand as more and more of her sun-darkened skin was exposed. Her full, natural breasts were capped with dark, turgid nipples that jiggled as she lay herself down on the king-sized bed.

I was nearing my peak quickly as I imagined the cock in my hand being guided to the slippery, smooth folds of her pussy. In this fantasy of mine, it would take a little bit of force to enter her, but once I made it past that razor-thin division between resistance and acceptance, her warm channel would pull my thick shaft into her body with a moaning sigh.

Almost there, I imagined breasts bouncing serenely with my slow thrusts. Then as my hand stroked my cock faster and faster, so to did my thrusts into my dream-woman gain intensity and speed. Her tits flailed wildly as she screamed through her orgasm, my body driving into hers. Before long, I was coming, a long, draining release that my dream-took lovingly into her body.