Folks, I keep saying it because it’s true: There is nothing new under the sun. Sexting? Tweeting about your dick? It’s old wine in new bottles, I tell you! Here’s Elector Albrecht of Brandenburg in 1474, who has named his penis “Mini Me” (essentially) and is writing to his wife:

If God vouchsafes me a safe return, I’m going to whip you soundly with young Albert. Young Albert really wants to get big.”

Found it on Spanking Blog.

The D.I.L.D.O. launcher guy is back! Not entirely serious, I don’t think, but funny as hell:

One of the nice things about having a membership at a porn site like Sex And Submission is that they always take lots and lots of photos when they do a shoot. Maybe 16 go in the free gallery and are thereafter seen over and over again as they echo forever through the infinitely expanding mirrored chambers of Tumblr, but most of the rest (often 150 or more) are going to be fresh to you when you see them. And some of them (even if only by purest accident) are going to break with tired porn formulas and satisfy somebody’s unanticipated micro-fetish. Fully-dressed-man fetish, anybody?

For example, if you looked at the public-facing promotional material for last week’s shoot at Sex And Submission, you’d get the impression of a fairly standard (although quite well-made) bondage fucking-and-sucking extravaganza. You’d get no hint whatsoever that there was a moment (after her wrists are tied but while his pecker is still inside his pants) like this:

What tickles my fancy about these two photos is that there’s no failure to communicate about the impending bondage blowjob, and yet it’s done in a relatively soft-core way. Sometimes you don’t need to paint the whole picture with primary-color crayons.

For the curious, the woman on her knees in these photos is Casey Calvert.

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The eBay seller who posted this auction may indeed, as @textfiles tweeted, be suffering from enjoying a very strong dose of “hope and wishes” if you go by his $3k asking price. But 5¼” floppy-disk porn from 1981, for the Atari 400/800? That’s relevant to our interests here at ErosBlog:

The seller captions the hot-tubbing cover art thusly:

This is the text adventure that inspired the Leisure Suit Larry series released by Sierra.

That’s Roberta Williams on the right, In the center is the wife of Bob Davis (creator of Ulysses), and on the left was On-Line’s bookkeeper.

Let’s look at the back of the box. I remember that funky font (what font is that?) very well, because Sierra Online was still using it when I entered the market for computer games just a couple of years after this was published:

SOFTPORN ADVENTURE

This delightful game has more features than most adventures.

The computer program creates a fantasy world, complete with objects, different areas, and everything else one would expect plus descriptions are full paragraphs (stored on disk) and several new twists and surprises are included. You, the player, have a “puppet” who’s identity you adopt for the game. Your objective? Find and seduce 3 girls!

As in real life, meeting this challenge is not an easy task. It requires money (which you must win at the casino); you must be creative in approaching your women; and there are many dangers to avoid and puzzles to be soled. The subject matter is ssuch that adult males should find this game quite interesting. Others may too — but be forewarned!

— over 48k of actual program memory plus another 48k of text (stored on disk)

— a CASINO, complete with a slot machine, and a blackjack table!

— the ability to SAVE a GAME in progress

— WOMEN! EROTICA! DERELICTS! BOOZE! and MUCH MORE!!!

Last but not least, what’s inside the box?

I’m posting this here because the auction link will be dead (and the pictures gone) in two or three months, but this artifact is worth preserving. As an added bonus, if you’re got a standard “in my day we had to walk through the snow to school, up hill both ways” lecture, now you can profitably add this to it. When your children whine to you about the poor quality of online pornography these days, you can link them to this post and say “Daughter, you think it’s bad now, this is what computer porn looked like when I was your age!”

Update: Of course I wrote this blog post without Googling one damned thing. Which was, as it always is, a mistake. It turns out (see the comments, thanks Jason!) that Jason Scott (the @textfiles guy whose tweet set me off) actually interviewed Chuck Benton about this title for his (Jason’s) epic documentary about text adventures called Get Lamp. A summary of the interview is here and if you scroll all the way down, you’ll be rewarded with a bunch of file links including executable files for the game for several different platforms.

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Yesterday Bondage Blog posted excerpts from Peter Acworth’s recent essay about (as Bondage Blog called it) Coming Down From The Upper Floor. Apparently Acworth had a WTF moment in which he asked himself why there was “a giant portrait of me wearing a tuxedo in a gold frame?” That would be this portrait:

The fleshly frame around the gold frame goes at least part of the way toward answering that question, doesn’t it?

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One girl, one soft-serve ice cream machine:

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Not quite 10 years ago, I started exchanging emails with The Nymph after we met on a forum. When she finally decided to travel (a considerable distance!) so we could visit (me having a more inflexible job than her at the time) her sisters pitched a considerable fit because they thought that as “some man on the internet” I was probably going to dismember her and stow the parts in plastic trash bags; they’d seen it happen on some breathless television show, you understand.

Well, that’s not quite how it went, and we’re still happy together. So you’ll understand why I have considerable sympathy in me for this tale of a 19-year relationship that began on Prodigy and really got going with a first date that ended with a ride home to the folks in a police car:

My parents weren’t concerned that they never paid for my Prodigy usage nor did they understand why there never seemed to be any long-distance charges for calling the boy I’d met from New York City on the teen discussion message board.

Our parents didn’t mind us chatting online or talking on the phone, which we did for hours at a time thanks to a phone-phreaking acquaintance, and they didn’t object to us meeting in person. They just didn’t want to put much effort into making it happen.

I realized if I was ever going to hang out with the boy of my angsty, riot grrrl dreams, I’d have to do it on my own.

After yet another explosive fight with my parents, I told them I was going to the deli down the street to grab a sub, but instead, I called a taxi from a payphone. Before I left, I told my uncle where I was going and swore him to secrecy.

The taxi took me to the Trenton train station, which began my long trek to the wilderness of Staten Island–a place so backwards that it wasn’t totally wired for cable TV until the early 1990s. Even today, wild turkeys roam the streets.

From Trenton to Hoboken to the World Trade Center to the Whitehall ferry terminal to the Staten Island ferry terminal, where the boy was waiting for me in the arrivals hall decked out in his finest clothes of a Skinny Puppy T-shirt and Docs…

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