September 27th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
How do you get four nubile women to have an orgy with you and you alone? Why, magic, of course! This is a promotional still from Gypsy Passions, a 1970 porn movie that’s all about the power of a good reading. Our hero crosses Madame Puntawaski’s palm with silver, gets some good advice and a powerful herbal preparation, and soon he can’t fight the ladies off with a stick, not that he’s particularly inclined to try:
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September 26th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
Irregular European plumbing, her lithe body, and the fact that they are both sweaty as hell are the things that make this porn photo special:
It comes from Fascination #6, a porn magazine published in Germany in February 1978.
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September 25th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
This is a a somewhat unusual artifact, inasmuch as it’s an artistic rendition of what is usually the old-school “money shot” seen in a porn movie: the actor ejaculating dramatically for the movie camera and showering the actress. It doesn’t make as much sense as painted art, which is presumably what makes it unusual to see in this format:
From the October 1982 Pleasure magazine, published in Germany.
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September 24th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
How do you know that at least one of the two biker boys who meets you every week for your regular threeway is seriously and literally bad ass? When he’s wearing square metal studs on his tight speedo underwear, of course. Think how that’s gotta feel when he’s riding on rough pavement!
Via Kinky Delight.
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September 23rd, 2018 -- by Bacchus
Summer is pretty much over, but it’s not to late to wash some of the beach sand off. I guess this pretty lady decided to get rid of those residual grains of sand that always stick inside the bikini top:
Photo is from the September 1963 issue of Ace magazine.
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September 22nd, 2018 -- by Bacchus
I found this advertisement for photos of Brigitte Bardot in the back of the July 1958 issue of True War magazine, a fairly lame men’s pulp:
I don’t know what postal rates in 1958 were, or printing costs either for that matter. But somehow I suspect that no matter how “sensational and exciting” the photos were, to get forty of them reproduced and in an envelope and delivered for a buck means that corners were being cut somewhere. Maybe they weren’t so “big” or maybe they weren’t so “glossy” or maybe they were printed on paper so thin you could see through it. But one way or another, I predict a disappointed customer. By way of comparison, the magazine in which the advertisement appeared cost 35 cents, but (a) it wasn’t shipped via the post office and (b) it had sixty pages of dull thin grey newsprint. The only thing glossy about it was the front and back cover.
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September 21st, 2018 -- by Bacchus
Brantome’s discussion of chastity belts is very modern sounding, if you read it while thinking about government demands for “key escrow” in the late 20th century and the resurgence in our current times of impossible arguments for “safe encryption.” Ain’t nobody going to be happy with that but the blacksmith:
In the time of King Henry,” says Brantome, “there was a certain peddler that brought to the fair of Saint-Germain a dozen of certain tools for bridling women’s affairs. They were made of iron and went around the waist like a girdle and branched down to be caught at the bottom and locked. They were framed with so much art, that it was not possible for the woman, once she was bridled with one, ever to be able to avail herself of it for sweet pleasure, having but a few holes to serve for making her water.
They say there were some five or six peevish jealous husbands, who bought some of them and bridled their wives with them in so safe a way that they might well say: Farewell merry time! And so there was one of these women who took it into her head to keep company with a locksmith, who was very subtle in his art, and to whom she showed the said apparatus and her own and everything.
The husband being gone out to the fields, the locksmith bent his mind so closely to the affair, that he forged a false key for it; the lady had the pleasure of fastening and opening it at all hours and when she wished. The husband never found anything amiss with it; so she took her fill of this fine pleasure, in spite of the jealous foppish, cuckold husband, who fancied himself secure from cuckoldom.
But the roguish locksmith, who made the false key, did still better; he was the first to enjoy her and thus made a cuckold of him.
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