Reading Is Sexy

Posted on October 10, 2010 by Tero484.com

In an ideal world, people would learn about sex in the same place they learn about everything else: the classroom. Parents would lay down the basics of the birds and the bees and then, since no one wants to have an in-depth conversation about fingering with their dad, teachers would cover the rest in a more comfortable academic setting. Instead of trying to scare kids into abstinence with STD horror stories, sex-ed would teach things that mattered, like how to not feel awkward talking dirty or the fundamentals of cunnilingus.

Unfortunately, we don’t live in an ideal world and our sex education programs are a joke without a punchline. Eighteen year old males have a better chance of finding Kazakhstan on a map than a clitoris in the dark while their female counterparts are receiving horrible hand job instructions from the pages of Cosmo. Even the lucky few who manage to make it through adolescence without getting a warped, misinformed, religiously repressed view of sexuality don’t have many resources to turn to for help. Except of course, reading.

Below are five books that belong on every sexually active American’s shelf. A treasure trove of insight and information, F*Bomb guarantees that if you read each and everyone of these, you will become a bona fide sex god. Your dick will grow five inches longer, your nipples will lactate champagne, and your pussy will be strong enough to crack walnuts. We promise.

1. The Guide to Getting It On by Paul Joannides

Were you a victim of abstinence only sex-ed? Did you think babies came out of belly buttons until you were 19? Have no fear. The Guide To Getting It On will set you straight. This book is the Bible of sexual competency. For those completely in the dark about what goes on in the dark, The Guide covers the fundamentals of fucking with impressive humor and clarity. Then, once you understand the basic mechanics of oral sex and intercourse, it marches on into excellent introductory chapters on kink, anal, pregnant sex, cybersex, disability sex and more. Without being obnoxiously PC or preachy, it avoids the heteronormativity of other sex manuals and has plenty to offer sexually (or gender) confused young homos. And finally, where would a comprehensive sex guide be without illustrations? The artwork Daerick Gross did for The Guide blows the Joy of Sex’s hirsute sketches out of the water. Does Joy of Sex have a drawing of two dinosaurs fucking? We didn’t think so. This book is amazing and makes a great graduation gift for any high schoolers you might know.

2. Sensuous Magic by Patrick Califia

A pioneering leather dyke, erotica author, and bisexual trans-man, Patrick Califia not only walks the walk, he talks the talk and does so articulately at that. Most books offering an introduction to S&M get bogged down in the author’s own definitions of what S&M is and a lot of vague self congratulating talk about how awesome it is to be kinky. Califia ignores that nonsense and breaks down kink, as an ideology and activity, into easily digestible, information rich packets. BDSM is such a vast catch all term it’s hard to include everything it encompasses in a single book.  Yet, somehow, Califia manages to hit all the majors- bondage, flogging, service etc- while giving each subject meticulously thorough coverage AND illustrating all of the points with well written, panty soaking erotica. Rather than leave with a hazy understanding of kink, readers of Sensuous Magic close the book prepared for a trip to the sex shop and a conversation with their partner.

3. The Illustrated Guide to Extended Massive Orgasm by Steve and Vera Bodansky

Unlike 99.9% of the other sex books in existence, The Illustrated Guide To Extended Massive Orgasm actually has something new to say. Rather than lay down a couple of blowjob tips and then make up some dumb sex positions too convoluted for anyone to ever use, Extended Massive Orgasm delivers a whole new theory about what orgasms actually are. Forget about oral, forget about penetration, forget about everything you thought you knew about orgasms, it’s all bullshit. The real secret to amazing sex is… hand jobs. The basic gist of extended massive orgasms, or EMOs as the book calls them, is that one lover receives the attention while the other dishes it out. The receiver lies back and gets an awesomely specific hando, while maintaining constant verbal communication, and relaxes into the pleasure, rather than tensing towards orgasm like we’re all programmed to do. The Bodanskys are hippies and the tone of the book makes it obvious that they’re writing for middle aged people who have never seen their spouse’s genitals with the lights on until now, but their ideas are solid and the book is full of amazingly useful tips that will make you the Michael Jordan of slow clit rubbing. Also, Steve Bodansky looks like David Cross so that’s pretty cool too.

4. Two Knotty Boys Showing You The Ropes by Two Knotty Boys

Learning how to do a complex 3 dimensional activity from a book is always going to be difficult. Other bondage books use sparse illustrations and rely on confusing text instructions that say things like, “Take the primary anterior rope and cross it behind the loop in a clockwise perpendicular direction, sliding it over the secondary knot but behind the hanging loop left by its own path. Then tighten.” Then, the illustrations they do have look like they were lifted from a 1950s Boy Scout manual and aren’t any clearer. Disposing of that confusing bullshit, the Two Knotty Boys had the genius idea of using clear, step by step photo instructions. The result is the best introductory bondage book on the market. Perfect for beginners, Showing You The Ropes guides the novice from their initial rope purchase, to tying the basic knots, all the way up to elaborate full body wraps. Their second book Back On The Ropes is more of the same, except in color, and their website http://www.knottyboys.com/ has a ton of video tutorials in case you’re still confused after the photos.

5. The Multi-Orgasmic Man by Mantak Chia and Douglas Abrams

Take this book with a grain of salt and it will change the way you cum. Well, at least if you’re a man it will. A great companion for The Illustrated Guide to EMO, MOM flips the script and goes into far greater detail on how to make a man multi-orgasmic than EMO, which sort of just says jerk him off but don’t make him cum right away. Mantak Chia is really into Tai Chi and he likes to talk about sexual kung fu, which is corny, but you can ignore the stuff about energy and focus on the parts about becoming multi-orgasmic. Basically, ejaculation and orgasm are different phenomenon but they happen so close together most men can’t tell the difference. Mantak lays down real clear instructions on how to get close to the edge without falling off the cliff. With practice, you can get close enough that you orgasm but don’t ejaculate. Once you’ve got the technique down pat you can ride that sweet spot until the wheels fall off your pleasure wagon.

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F*Bomb In Print

Posted on October 6, 2010 by Tero484.com

Safe(r) Sex

“Anyone who refuses to use condoms or get tested, yet swears they’re clean, is lying – and almost certainly has Super AIDS.”

(click dental dam to read column)

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Fake it Till You Make It

Posted on October 5, 2010 by Tero484.com

As anyone with a slutty friend who loves to post sex article links on Facebook has already heard, the National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior just dropped a steaming hot knowledge bomb on the American people. The largest sex survey since 1994, the NSSHB has a lot of cool stuff to say about secret gay blowjobs, teenage boot-knocking, and old white people being bad about condoms. However, it has also inspired the mainstream media to revive an issue we thought had been put to rest in like, the second season of Sex in the City or something: faking orgasms.

F*Bomb hates to enter a discussion ruled over by the likes of Cosmo, but since everyone else jabbering and blabbering doesn’t get it, we decided it’s time for us to wade into the faking it fray and start dropping steaming hot F*Bombs of truth. So sit back, relax, and act like you’re enjoying the lesson we are about to deliver.

1. You Might Not Cum Tonight

Fun fact: Orgasms are not a God given right that you are owed each and every time you engage in intercourse. In a perfect world, orgasms would be guaranteed but life isn’t fair and it tends to throw a little salt in everyone’s game now and again. Sometimes a partner has no idea what they’re doing, sometimes you’re tired or drunk, and sometimes you realize that cocaine is a shitty drug that will stab you in the back and cockblock you worse than anything. Orgasms are awesome, but sometimes they’re unattainable. Deal with it.

2. Orgasms Evade Us All

The media likes to portray faking orgasms as a female problem, and it’s true that they probably fake more than most, but this situation affects guys too. Being in charge of the game ender is a heavy burden on the male’s back. When she’s saying, “Harder, faster, more, more, more!” he’s wishing she would slow down for a second and let him think about baseball. Then when it comes time to cum, he has to worry about where to spray his seed. Inside or outside? Face, tits, mouth, back, armpit, bedspread, or cup? It’s all very stressful. However, that stress pales in comparison to not being able to unload a hearty load. The male ejaculation is seen as the grand finale fireworks of sexual intercourse, without it, the game’s not over. A decent guy will just let her know that it ain’t gonna happen, he’s happy to get her off, and that they should hit the hay. An embarrassed guy will fake an orgasm, which is actually pretty easy if there’s a condom involved. And unfortunately, a dumbass/drunk guy will stubbornly plug away until he’s pounding a bloody stump into a raw, open sore saying, “It’s gonna happen in a minute. I can feel it. I swear.”

3. It’s Okay Not To Cum

Sex isn’t a mystery novel. You don’t need to read the final page and find out the butler did it to have a good time. If there are extenuating circumstances stopping you from getting yours, that’s okay. Let your partner know, help them finish how they want, and be satisfied with the journey even if you didn’t make it to the final destination.

4. Some Girls Cum Harder Than Others

Ladies, much more so than men, vary wildly in their ability to achieve orgasm. Some girls won the lady parts lottery and they soak the sheets the second someone looks at their pussy funny. Others have never had an orgasm in their life and that totally sucks. However, most exist on a spectrum where sometimes it’s one, sometimes it’s none, and other times it’s ten million bajillion. If you’re one of those types, stockpile. When a partner is good and he’s pushing the buttons just right, grab all the orgasms you can and appreciate that fact you came until you were red in the face while all your considerate partner got was his glorified sneeze of a male orgasm.

5. Cut the Shit, Rub your Clit

The only thing dumber than faking an orgasm is refusing to grab the reigns and give yourself one. Any partner who objects to you getting yourself off while they go at it is a fucking moron and should be evicted from your vagina this instant. Grabbing the reigns applies to dudes too. Blowjobs are exhausting and taking a guy to completion hands free can take forever. Guys, if you’re getting close it’s okay to step in for a second, work yourself right to the edge, and then let her come in for the climax. We call it “the alley-oop.”

As much as God hates sex, he hates fucking lying a million times more. Deceiving your partner is not only a shitty thing to do, it creates a cultural climate where the media thinks it’s cool to run stories about faking orgasms and mention Meg Ryan romantic comedies from 20 years ago. So America, before the next big sex survey happens 16 years from now, listen to what Prince Charles has to say and don’t fake the funk.

*Disclaimer* This article is very hetero-normative. That wasn’t an accident. It was written specifically for heterosexuals, and ONLY heterosexuals, because gays don’t fake orgasms. Good job gays.

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F*Bomb: The Column

Posted on October 4, 2010 by Tero484.com

In addition to being a shitty porn blog that’s really hard to masturbate to, F*Bomb is now a weekly sex column in the Austin/UT paper UWeekly. The F*Bomb print column will take a slightly more journalistic and restrained approach to covering unusual sexuality than the blog (aka less boytaurs), but it will be much easier to masturbate to. Our first column was about this:

Heavy Metal

and then our second was about doing this on Craigslist:

Sex Sells aka Slinging Wrist

The next one will be about this:

We’ll have a link up for it on Wednesday or you can read it in print by picking up a copy of UWeekly from one of the many boxes scattered through out campus.

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Spray Paint the Walls

Posted on October 2, 2010 by Tero484.com

Anyone who has ever set foot in a public restroom has encountered some form of sexually explicit graffiti. Phone numbers, dirty limericks, crudely drawn phalli- they’re unavoidable. The Youtube comment section for the pre-digital era, bathroom stall walls have given voice to the foulest of dialogues, allowing anonymous strangers to debate the merits of Sarah Matthew’s stinky pussy, what you should do to it, and whether or not someone here might actually be a “fag.”

Taking the time to Sharpie up a dirty picture in the privacy of a locked restroom is one thing, but drawing an eight foot tall tri-colored vagina with aerosol spray paint is a different matter entirely. No matter how ubiquitous it might be, graffiti is still illegal and as embarrassing as getting caught writing “Chalice” in illegible tag font on the side of a boxcar is, getting busted drawing boobs makes going before the judge just oh so awkward. Still, F*Bomb thinks that tagging and titillation ought to go together more often and so we salute the brave souls who braved the law to bring us the Banksy-meets-Barely Legal graffiti you’ll find below. F*Bomb the System!

And, saving the best for last…

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Boner Academy

Posted on September 29, 2010 by Tero484.com

Attention dudes who make those Van Wilder and American Pie straight to DVD sequels:

F*Bomb has got a treat for you! Below you’ll find the “totally copyrighted so don’t try to steal it” treatment for F*Bomb’s proposed college and boobs film franchise, Boner Academy. This is just a sneak peak but if you like it, feel free to shovel some money our way and we’ll send you the whole script. We’ve got a friend whose cousin used to be an intern for the Daily Show and she said Rob Riggle is dying to play Dean Bacon. We can totally make this happen! Read on and we just know you’ll pop a boner (see below) and want to send us a big fatty check for a 13 film deal. We can discuss merchandising rights later.

Love,

F*Bomb

It was 2005 and after the crappiest high school experience anyone could ever have, Hoagie, Chaz, Lasagna, and Donald were ready to finally leave their old nerdy selves behind and ship off for four years of boobs and shenanigans at Bonaire Academy (pronounced bon-air, but don’t worry, we’ll revisit that later.)

After two of their dads dropped them off (Their dads? Haha, these guys suck) the gang was ready to get out and about and show the dorms what they were made of. The four of them hit the halls, high fiving dudes they didn’t know, pointing out things they thought were cool (“Sick Reservoir Dogs poster man! We’ll check you later.”), and figuring out where all the vending machines were on their floor. After half an hour, the dudes were pretty stoked to have learned that their floor had a vending machine with Hot Pockets AND a lot of these kids had X-Boxes and Playstations in their rooms. Sick. But then Hoagie ran into the room (Oh yeah, they all shared a four person suite) with the best news ever.

“DUDES!!!” he yelled, and everyone knew he meant business. He put a finger to his lips, which meant to be quiet. Then he sort of, he did this thing, this like… he crooked his fingered and then flexed it towards himself a bit, and then did it a couple of times, and that meant to follow him. Then he pointed to his wiener, and everyone freaked out and started high fiving and crap because when Hoagie pointed at his junk it meant there was some sexual hijinks on the horizon.

Hoagie lead them down the hall to a closed door, and then did the finger-mouth-be-quiet sign again. He pointed at the door and everyone listened. They all could hear some chick getting totally boned, moaning like a crazy porn star. No way! It was so awesome, the gang couldn’t believe it.

“No way Hoagie!” Chaz yelled, “I don’t believe it.” Everyone was all like “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” because Chaz was being an idiot and yelling when they were right outside the door of some naked chick getting it on. They quickly devised a plan: Donald was small and Asian so they sent him to the bathroom to find a vent he could crawl into, Chaz and Lasagna were gonna go get a hand mirror and video camera and see if they could MacGuyver up some shit, and Hoagie was going to guard the door in case anyone tried to stop boning.

While everyone ran off to do their missions, Hoagie stood in the hallway, guarding the door and trying to figure out if he had time to go get a Hot Pocket from the vending machine before anyone else got back. He was pretty sure he could run and get one real quick, but then the sounds from the room got even hotter (if that was possible). Hoagie couldn’t believe it. He had to check this shit out. He got down near the door and tried to look through the key hole. Fuck! There wasn’t a keyhole.

Still determined, Hoagie got down on his side and pushed his head against the crack at the bottom of the door. He couldn’t really see anything, so he tried sticking a couple of his fingers under the door. That worked pretty good. He almost had his whole hand under the door when suddenly he heard a voice.

“Excuse me. Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Hoagie turned around super cool style like he was not doing anything weird. “I uh, lost my gun. Under the door.” Hoagie answered, cool as a motherf*cking cucumber. The second he saw who’d asked the question though, that coolness was outta there. Cause standing right in front of him was a babe with a decent face and slamming body.

“Whoa,” said Hoagie.

“Umm, that’s weird. You shouldn’t be digging under people’s doors for lost gum. I’m Tanya, this floor’s RA and I can’t have you doing creepo stuff like that. C’mon kid, this is the first day of the semester, don’t make me write you up.”

Hoagie was about to get up when suddenly there was a loud scream (a man scream, so weird and not hot) from inside the room.

Turns out Donald, the skinny little Asian kid, had actually found a vent and then Chuck Norrised through it until he found the hot sex room. But it wasn’t a hot sex room at all, it was just some preppy dude (His name was Trevor Bacon fyi) jacking it to porno with the volume all the way up. Donald was like, “Ugh gross!” and the dude heard him and totally man screamed. Then the dude, Trevor Bacon, tried to run but the door wouldn’t open cause some fat kid’s hand was stuck under it and wiggling and that freaked him out even more.

Long story short, Tanya the RA busted Hoagie and Donald and sent them to the dean’s where they ran into Chaz and Lasagna, who got busted trying to pull a mirror off the wall of the bathroom. So all the dudes get called in to see the dean, and Donald spots the little sign thing on his desk that says Dean Bacon. Turns out he is the dad of Trevor, the kid with the room-porno-incident (it just happened, pay attention) and he is SOOO PISSED.

Dean Bacon yells at them and threatens to call their parents and calls them nerds and lame-os and dorks and then says they don’t get to stay in the dorms with the cool kids anymore. He sends them to punishment dorm, which used to be the lamest frat on campus until it got closed down because it was haunted (and threw crappy parties with, like, zero chicks) and so the dudes have to live in the crappy punishment dorm now.

The gang showed up at their new housing and were bummed out. It was a total freak show, all weird nerds with asthma, a super fat black dude who’s actually pretty funny (which pisses off Hoagie cause he’s normally that fat funny one), a robot some Asian computer science kid built, and then some cool kid in a leather jacket who has to live there because he’s dyslexic.

When they got up to their room, Lasagna was like, “Dude, fuck this shit. This college sucks. Instead of Bonaire Academy (bon-air) they should call it Boner Academy (bone-urr) cause that’s what it sucks.”

“Yeah, and that’s what it gives me” said Hoagie, pointing you know where. Then everyone cracked up because they knew what that meant: SEXUAL HIJINKS!

Stay Tuned for Boner Academy II: Handjob Highschool

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Shit My Roommate Says

Posted on September 27, 2010 by Tero484.com

This is F*Bomb’s future designer Orin. We decided that since he’s a real dude and says funnier shit than that bullshit Twitter hoax about the guy’s dad who is now Capt. Kirk or something, he should get his own F*Bomb blog post. He already has his own blog but you’re not really a web celeb until your ass goes up on F*Bomb.com.  These are some of Orin’s enlightening thoughts about homosexuality, alien abductions, and doing the dishes. Enjoy.

“I feel damn straight and I’m getting pretty right now.”

“You like it like that, don’t you cup?”

We still can’t wait to read about this “Oral History” of Bomba Shack!

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Gay Dracula

Posted on September 23, 2010 by Tero484.com

It was a sultry Transylvannian night and Gay Dracula was just getting out of his velour coffin. “Man, I am man-horny,” Gay Dracula thought to himself, “I wonder what Bi-Sexual Frankenstein is doing.” Bi-Frankie (that’s what GD called him) wasn’t doing anything and so the two of them decided to hit the clubs, looking for some man-meat to wet their whistle (or put some volts in their bolts).

Since it was only Thursday, they headed over to Igor’s Lab, this hot new gay bar Gay Dracula had read about in the alt-weekly. Since it wasn’t the weekend he thought there wouldn’t be a line, but he was wrong and the line wrapped all the way around the block.

“Garlic cloves!” Gay Dracula muttered to himself, “This place is packed.” Bi-Frankie suggested they try something a little more low key (he wasn’t really a big fan of crowds) but Gay Dracula was adamant. “You see the fine young specimens they got lined up Frankie? They’re not even the cream of the crop. You just know they only let the most succulent ones inside.” Bi-Frankie wasn’t much of an arguer and so he agreed and said Gay Dracula was probably right.

Gay Dracula quickly came up with a foolproof plan. Bi-Frankie would stand outside by the fire door, and then Gay Dracula would turn into a bat and fly in and let him in. Genius.

Gay Dracula turned in a Gay Bat and flew right over the velvet rope.

“Oh, not so fast little guy,” said the bouncer who was crazy tough, “You on the list?”

The Gay Bat tried to look innocent. “I-uh- don’t have to be. I’m friends with the uh- owner.”

“Is that so? What’s your friend’s name?” the bouncer snarled.

“Ummm… my friend’s name is…..” Gay Bat looked around for help, and then spotted the bright neon sign over the door. “Igor! My friend’s name is Igor. He owns this place.”

“Oh snap!” the bouncer said, “He does know the boss. My condolences sir. You know how it is at these types of places. Everyone always trying to pull a fast one.”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal. Have a good night.” said Gay Bat, flying into the crowded night club.

Gay Bat turned back into Gay Dracula in the bathroom and then let Bi-Frankie in. Gay Dracula was totally right, all the dudes (and the couple of ladies the gay dudes hung out with) were all super guy-hot. It was a good place to be gay.

Pretty soon, the two of them were getting their mash on out on the dance floor. Bi-Frankie was sort of awkward, doing this weird stomp move but everyone could tell his heart was in it so they let him be. Gay Dracula was a pretty good dancer but he kept doing this swish thing with his cape that was overly flashy and no one likes a gaudy dancer, especially not at a gay bar. Bi-Frankie thought about telling Gay Dracula to tone it down a bit, but then erred on the side of avoiding any conflict, as was his nature.

A couple of cocktails later, Gay Dracula had a pretty good buzz going. Now he just needed a bite to eat. Looking around the bar he spotted a couple of collar poppers rocking Live Strong bracelets and drinking Mike’s Hard over by the (gay) porno matching game the bar had. Preppy homos like that were Gay Dracula’s favorite. You had to wash the Axe off their necks, but boy were they easy.

He strolled casually up to the one wearing the lightest pastel polo shirt, who was standing away from his friends and texting. “Hey hot stuff,” Gay Dracula said, ” Wanna do some coke with me in the bathroom?” The gay-bro totally did and so they went to the bathroom.

Crammed into a tiny stall, cause the big handicap one was taken, Gay Dracula busted out his coke bag and special coke spoon amulet necklace. He pulled a big cokey spoonful out of the bag and gave it to the frat dude whose name was Chad (duh!).

“You know Chad, I don’t like to do my coke off of spoons. I like to do my coke off of big hard wieners. You think you could help me out with that?” Gay Dracula asked, throwing up his crazy hypnosis stare.

Chad was super high on coke because Gay Dracula’s coke was good and he had also done a bunch earlier that night. He wasn’t sure he could get stiff but then, whoa, what do you know? Those hands were cold but they knew what they were doing.

Gay Dracula continued talking as he caressed Chad’s wang. He knew it would be all rock and roll hard in a second, because that coke he gave Chad was laced with hella Viagra. Gay Dracula was crafty like fuck.

“What a nice hot boner you have Chad. It’s making me all gay-horny. I totally want to put this in my butt and then do even gayer secret stuff with it that straight people don’t know about. You know what I’m talking about right?” Gay Dracula murmured.

“Oh yeah,” Chad said even though he didn’t, “Totally.” He had no clue but he was really high and his boner was so crazy it sort of hurt.

Gay Dracula kept working it with his hands and stuff and then was like, “You know what my favorite part of a boner is? All the blood that rushes to it!!!” CHOMP!

Gay Dracula bit into the guy’s dick like a fat sweaty kid eats an Otter Pop on a hot summer’s day and then things went all horror show. Chad tried to scream but it hurt so bad he just died. Gay Dracula went to town on his crotch and even ate one of his nuts by accident, which was gross for Gay Dracula because he hates solid food.

After he’d finished his meal, Gay Dracula strolled nonchalantly out to the dance floor to join Bi-Frankie, who was dancing with a hot latino twink.

“GAY DRACULA!” Bi-Frankie yell-whispered, “You have blood all over your tuxedo-cloak ensemble. Did you kill someone?”

Just then a very gay scream came from the bathroom, “Oh no! Murder! This guy’s dick’s been bitten off!” Everyone in the bar started screaming cause a bit-off dick is every homo’s worst nightmare.

Gay Dracula gave Bi-Frankie a look that said, “Oops, did I do that?” like he wasn’t actually sorry at all. Bi-Frankie put his hand over his face and groaned.

“Not again Gay Dracula. Every time I go out with you. Alright, we gotta get out of here. C’mon Pepe.”

“Dios mio!” Pepe exclaimed. He worried that the bloody guy might be bad news but they were both pretty hot and he was sure the sewn together one had a big schlong, so he went with them. The three of them ran out of the bar, and then ended up heading back to Gay Dracula’s place to eat the double-stacked blue dolphins Pepe had and have a threeway which was pretty awesome even though Gay Dracula and Bi-Frankie were a little bit awkward because they’d been friends for so long.

Posted in Erotica | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Are you an aquaphile?

Posted on September 21, 2010 by Tero484.com

It’s happened to all of us. Maybe you were changing into an already wet swimsuit when the damp inner-netting brushed your thigh, giving you an erection so killer you lost your balance. Maybe you were giving an underwater blowjob when suddenly you realized, “Hey, I know I’m underwater and everything but I am really really wet right now.” Or maybe, like most Americans, you were watching Splash with your pants around your ankles when you caught your reflection in the TV screen and cried out, “Oh my God, I’m an aquaphile.”

Take a deep breath. Accept it, be okay with it, and learn to embrace it. Over 98% of sexually active Americans have or display some form of overt aquaphiliac behavior. For many it is a minor fetish, perhaps you just enjoy masturbating in the shower with your mouth open way more than your friends do, but for those fully devoted to exploring their aquatic attractions, it’s a way of life.

And what a way of life it is! Unlike hot, stuffy furry conventions or those awful vegan pleather fetishists, aquaphiles actually have fun indulging in their dirtiest desires. So whether you want to watch someone wash their car or fuck a merman’s fishy butthole, F*Bomb is here to tell you, “You have options!” So come on and wet your whistle while we figure out just what sort of H2O you’re into.

Water Sports

Alright, anyone here who wants to pee on someone can just go ahead and leave right now. F*Bomb is not down with pee watersports and does not want to talk about what may or may not have occurred in various bathtubs with various exes. We were drunk, okay?

Anyways, F*Bomb highly supports everyone who thinks tubing, wind surfing, regular surfing, boogie boarding and extreme sea kayaking are the be-all and end-all of beach boners. If the idea of a life jacket tightening around a pair of wet breasts gets your motor boat humming, then this is probably going to be your favorite arena of aquaphilia.  There are so many wonderfully wet activities to choose from. However, if we had to pick the all-time greatest water sport, barebacking-barefoot skiing would totally take the sea cake. It’s just as exhilarating as getting a handjob on a jet ski, but the level of skill required keeps it from being an amateur hour activity.

(It’s like this, except with more butt fucking)

Sexy Sexy Swimwear

Don’t even say the words “Sports Illustrated.” Swimwear that is really sexy is supposed to cover the skin, coating it in a sopping wet artificial epidermis, not bear it for all the world to see. Half the models sporting swimsuits these days aren’t even wearing the swimsuit they’re supposed to be showing off. It’s a disgrace. If F*Bomb wanted to see breasts, we’d rent an R movie from the 1980s.

As sexy as vintage bathing ensembles are, the world of wetsuits offers up a suitable modern option for those who like to get slippery when wet. There are thermo-insulated suits for pervy polar bears, various sleeve and short lengths, and they come in any color a heart could conceivably desire. Expanding into aquatic accessories, sure bunchy bathing caps are beautiful but slick, shiny swim caps are where it’s really at. Throw a pair of Speedo Speed Socket Swim Goggles into the mix and… yeah, that’s right Michael Phelps, you break that record. Yeah, swim faster. Faster. Yeah. Unh…

Under The Sea

Until now, we’ve just been skimming the surface of aquaphilia but it’s high time we dive right in, preferably with a triple lindy, to where the real action is, under the water. As a wise crustacean once said, “Everything is better down where it’s wetter” and that little dude was dead on. Full on fish style fucking takes a bit of an investment, scuba gear and snorkels being essential if you don’t want to keep coitus interrupting to gulp down air, but oh man is it worth it.

For one, the array of new positions possible would boggle even Cosmo’s crack team of sexologists. The Triple Star Fish, Seahorse Style, the Flying Dutchman… there are literally dozens of positions we bet you’ve never even imagined. Of course, for every advantage there is generally a technical difficulty to overcome. Slippery skin, though exquisitely tactile, tends to be tough to grasp. We recommend retro fitting some of those previously mentioned wetsuits with handy dandy hand holds, and you should probably cut the crotch out while you’re at it. Aside from more generic scuba issues like air supply and the bends, it’s important to equip yourself with a nice slick, silicone based lubed. Ironically, water tends to wash your natural moisture away and anything water based will be similarly swept away, so you’ll need a lube that’s real thick and greasy. We recommend Elbow Grease.

Think this sounds like too much hassle to be worth getting your hair wet? Well, then obviously you’ve never seen an underwater money shot.

As great as that underwater blowjob might be, the dude at the end comes off like such a douche that I’d hate to have him have the last word on aquaphilia. Instead, let’s end our aquatic adventure by taking “a trip with all the other girls to see the dolphins in their natural habitat.”

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The Internet Is A Terrible Place (pt. 2)

Posted on September 18, 2010 by Tero484.com

Carnal Cartoons


Back in the day, comic books used to have letter sections in their back pages. People would write in to say how awesome or sucky they thought the new Wolverine costume was, while the more artistically talented fans would send in their own, painstakingly done drawings of the Silver Surfer high fiving Spiderman.  While the quality certainly varied, sometimes these kids would turn in pretty impressive works of art. Imagining these high school metal heads doodling epic Kree-Skrull war scenarios rather than pay attention to Algebra was always sort of endearing. But then those kids grew up, got shitty jobs pumping gas, and turned their artistic abilities into something much, much seedier.

Drawings can be sexy. According to that article New Yorker seems to be reprinting every couple of months, “graphic novels” are now a legit artform. From Tijuana Bibles to Housewives at Play, people have been putting pen to paper to express their prurient interests since time immemorial. And that was all fine, until the Internet fucked shit up.

Back in the day, if you wanted to see a crude rendering of Mary Jane and Gwen Stacy swallowing hot gobs of Peter Parker’s webbing, you had to make a shady deal for some fifth generation photocopies in the back room of a comic book store. Then the Internet was invented, and now all you have to do is Google Image search “Elroy Jetson cum slut” to fulfill your dirty 2-D fantasies.

But who’s drawing these things? When Japan makes hentai hotdog porn where a cartoon Takeru Kobayashi gets all his holes stuffed, that’s being created by an industry. But the weirder realms of toon fantasy? These are almost certainly being cranked out by freelancers, working their nib with one hand and their nub with the other. Seriously, F*Bomb wants to know who spends their nights and weekends drawing…

Incestual Simpsons gang bangs?

Family Guy fetish scenes?

Batman getting buttfucked?

Donald fucking himself over? (with MS Paint?!?)

That infamous Doug deleted scene where they put Patty Mayonaise in a “wobbly H?”

Pumbaa’s red rocket?

Hot wallaby and cow action?

Beavis in Butt Head?

Peggy Hill getting done doggystyle? (the Internet is of the opinion that Peggy has giant breasts)

A children’s cartoon seasponge getting his dick sucked by a snail?

Seriously? Fucking seriously?!? WHO is drawing these things? They obviously take time and energy and, some might even say, artistic talent. Why does the Internet feel the need to ruin all of our collective cartoon memories?

Can you find even weirder comic/cartoon porn than F*Bomb was willing to dig up? Hit us up with some hot links in the comments section. Or don’t. Actually, please don’t.

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