It never fails. “I’ll just pick the lock” she says. But it’s not the brass-bound wooden trunk full of treasures or antiques that your little band of adventurers and freebooters hopes it is. It’s something else entirely, something squirmy and hungry and horny and slick and lonely and (until about ten seconds ago) firmly bound by cruel magical enchantments. Surprise!

Artwork is called Beware The Mimic by artist Nightglare.

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“So, what happened to your boat?”

“Well, me and my mate, we were fishing, see? And these skinnydipping teenyboppers, they were on some rocks, eh? And, like, singing? Singing really pretty, and they had hooters out to here. We sailed in closer for a better look, but had to stop because the reefs up in there around those rocks looked kinda tricky. But it was OK because the girls swam out, a whole bunch of them, and started climbing up on board like they wanted to party with us. Only, my mate fell asleep, and I did too, and I don’t really know what happened after that. Woke up on the beach with a mouthful of sand. Can’t find him, can’t find the boat, can’t find those girls, can’t even find those fuckin’ rocks!”

The artwork is The Sirens (1874) by Wilhelm Kray. What’s above is the central detail; click for the whole painting in higher resolution. There’s an even larger version from Wikimedia Commons but the colors aren’t as bright/attractive in their photograph of the painting.

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I really like the detail in this lesbian scene by Pablo Picasso of the woman holding her hands over her eyes, as if the whole business is just too embarrassing to be survived with eyes wide open:

Pablo Picasso titled this Scène érotique when he drew it in 1902.

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This is one of the rare images I publish where provenance makes it more problematic. I think it stands on its own as erotic art, and so I was tempted to just drop it here and leave it as such:

That remains pretty much my plan. In the context where I found it — a 19th-century European geography of the Americas — publishing this nude portrait was, I deem, gratuitous, racist, and colonialist in varying degrees. None of those things is inherent in the artwork, but the more details of provenance I share, the more emphatically that polluted context contaminates what I consider to be a perfectly beautiful engraving. So, in a reversal of my usual practice, I’ve stripped the context and presented just the artwork.

I have long been aware that in the early history of the Mormon church they were the target of an enormous amount of anti-Mormon propaganda, but it was not until I saw some of the text in the 1883 book from which the following illustration is taken that I was aware how much it was bound up with sexual panic and charges of licentiousness:

The above fairly harmless drawing is captioned “Anointing Communicants In The Endowment House (Representing The Ceremony As Performed By The Mormons At Nauvoo)” but the accompanying prose is considerably over the top:

In the administration of the endowment ceremonies, males and females were compelled to subordinate any native modesty they might have. The women repaired to a chamber where their clothing was all removed; they then passed in nude condition to the anointing room, where a priestess received them; they were there baptized in a tub, and then anointed with olive oil until their flesh was as slick as a Guinea negro’s. Those who know of the secret practices of the priesthood declare that Smith and his colleagues had a peephole made in the side of this endowment room, through which they studied the physical attributes of female communicants, so as to inform themselves fully concerning the desirableness of new spiritual wives. This ceremonial proceeding led to beastiality with all naturalness…

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If you’re old enough to remember the days when those vibrating belt massagers at the health clubs were marketed in all seriousness as passive weight loss devices, you’re old enough to know better, too: everybody knows you can’t just stand there while the belt shakes your fat cells away. But people used to believe it, and it feels good, so why not?

It took pioneering female porn director Clair Dia to suss out what those belt massagers were truly good for. If they feel good with one passenger, why not try one out with two people on board? Two people who are, not to mince a point, fucking?

Shown riding the belt (and each other) are John Seeman (I’m sure that’s not a stage name) and Gail Clayton in The Health Spa (1978).

Update: A helpful reader went looking and found the entire movie at a tubesite, dropping the link in a comment that I did not pass through moderation. Thank you, helpful reader, but given the damage that the tubes have done to the porn industry, I have a firm policy of not giving them any free traffic. From viewing the movie, I did manage to learn that the scene above does not actually appear in it; this is not at all uncommon with production stills. In the movie as edited for release, the “fucking on the vibrating belt” scene is face-to-face, before she goes down to suck his dick:

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She’s thinking: “This Halloween party totally sucks!”

From the cover of Naga #2.