There’s a Pornstar Platinum shoot [that used to be] available via Kink.com called Ava Divine Disciplines Rob Piper’s Cock. From one of the promo photos, you might think it was light-dominatrix stuff:

But petting his penis through his pants with that riding crop is as close to discipline as the shoot ever gets, my friends. The sales copy makes this considerably clearer:

Hi boys, Ava Devine here and I am going to be disciplining Rob Piper’s humongous black cock. You know where I’m gonna start? With that big black cock up my ass! I can’t wait to take that cock in all my holes.

Yeah… no. I’m sure that’s fun and all; indeed, as the video makes clear, it’s rather emphatically a hoot for all parties involved. But what it might have to do with “discipline” is distinctly unclear. Call me a joy-killing linguistic pedant if you must, but this is porn-labeling gone seriously haywire. There’s pussy fucking and ass fucking and deep throating and all kinds of good clean dirty fun, but of discipline, there is not one iota to be seen. Friends, she lets that man do whatever he wants, and he wants to do every inch as much as you would! (Plus, let us be honest, a few inches even more, unless you have been extremely well-treated by fortune and nature. They don’t hire these performers at random.) No. Of spectacular sex there is plenty; of discipline, there is none.

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This witchburning “photo” is one of the eerie darkroom manipulations of the great 1920s photographer William Mortensen.

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If ErosBlog were the sort of billionaire’s hobby that meant we had purpose-built premises, and commissioned art to put in the colonnaded lobby, this right here is the sort of art I would want to commission to put in it:

If startled ingénues in short dresses, tall shoes, and summery hats suddenly inherit a new set of ancient Mediterranean erotic dreams and obsessions, well, what harm in that?

It would delight me to learn from some student of art history that this is a representation of an actual famous statue that exists in the world (Vatican library, anybody?) but until so informed, I must sadly assume it exists only in the fevered imagination of artist Giovanni Romanini. Let’s just look at the statuary detail, shall we?

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The world wants to know. Seriously, this is my Google autocomplete right now:

You know when he says “A lot of people are saying…” and it’s really just him? Well, this question, a lot of people actually are asking. So says Google autocomplete.

One of the things that makes vintage porn interesting is that the tropes had not yet hardened; since nobody knew what the hell they were doing, and (especially in the 1970s) everybody was doing a hell of a lot of drugs, they did all sorts of crazy stuff, and the porn we have today is what evolved out of those experiments.

What where they thinking when they were flogging a plastic blow-up sex doll in the movie Domination Blue? I have no fucking idea. None. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time? Anyway, huge thanks to the Rialto Report, whose publication of the complete archives of Flick Magazine allowed me to discover this images in the pages of the September 1976 issue.

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He told his wife “No, dear, don’t have the cook hold dinner for me. I’ll be working late and then I’ll just dine at my club before I come home.”

Artwork is by Umberto Brunelleschi.

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Whenever the usual nattering nabobs of blue-nosed sex-negativism start wringing their moist hands about the horrifying prospect of sex robots and the social damage they will surely wreak upon our society, it’s easy to tell that they are imagining some sort of improved animatronic sex dolls aimed at men. It never seems to cross their minds that there would be a market for a strong metal man with an utterly reliable penis and a complete lack of the usual male bullshit:

This artwork comes from the cover of Sesso Folle. There’s a visible artist signature lower left, but I can’t quite make it out.

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