Hey Bacchus!

Good Saturday stuff over at Erosblog. Let's throw the guy some traffic. I love his ongoing story of this woman he met via email and blog, finally getting to meet her in person a few weeks back. He posts some rather wild stuff over there, but his tale of his new love -- the "nymph in my net" as he calls her -- is the sweetest thing.

First a nice post about how much she loves to touch him and vice versa.

Then a post about ... how to describe it ... two views of marriage. Start with one from The Importance Of Making Myself Available:

It is wonderful when we have sex and I am on fire with passion or I pick up that passion during the act, and it is an important part of our marriage and sex life, but I think the other times are just as important and, in another way, wonderful. Those are the times when it didn't matter if I was in the mood or not, because he either needed so badly to have that pressure relieved or he just found me so adorable that he had to express it by taking me on the spot.

Those times I do not get any orgasm but I have the pleasure of having a husband who is happy and cheerful and humming. And sometimes he is even able to help decorating the table for a dinner party just because he has got it. To see him like that is a much more quiet and subtle satisfaction than an orgasm, but to me it is just as good.

Maybe I am more practical about it because I am the farm girl I am, but to me it is and always was a very natural thing that the male has different sexual needs than the female. To meet those needs and even enjoy it as much as I can ? in some way or another ? has always been a natural thing for me, because I believe that a wife has a duty to be supportive and loyal, to let her husband feel loved and appreciated, to please him and make him happy, and to comfort him and cheer him up and help him to regain his confidence and self-esteem when he needs it.

and a rather different take from Why Your Wife Won't Have Sex With You:

To me it seemed simple: he wanted me to be his sexual appliance, the handy-dandy love machine that could be switched on and off at his command. I felt no desire, and I didn't want to "submit" to being handled and penetrated when I wasn't in the mood. If he really loved me, this sex thing, this "merely physical" part of our lives, wouldn't be such a big freakin' issue. His pissy, furious responses to my refusals only made me more sure that he didn't really love me. He just wanted to use my vagina. He clearly thought I owed him sex.