Now, see, normally when I see a thing like this, I would just assume that one of the bacchantes had gotten outside a little bit too much wine and was putting the moves on a stone statue of one of my satyrs or fauns. It happens; my boys are a horny bunch and they wear it on their heads like so much advertising. Usually there’s no harm done, especially after a couple thousand years of post-pagan censorship in statuarial styling about the genitals:

drunk woman with horny statue

However, in this case the artwork comes from the cover of a lurid pulp (Belfagor #3) that proclaims a cover story about the caresses of Satan, so I suppose this statue isn’t of one of my boys at all. His handsome visage and head-hardware is definitely copied from my boys, though!

The big difference is, getting drunk and playing with one of my hairy-hoofy guys might be a life-altering experience, but no mortal woman has ever regretted it. That infamous dark angel of rebellion? About him, I cannot say the same.

Similar Sex Blogging: