May 1st, 2011 -- by Bacchus
The thing about being a leashed puppy girl is that when it’s time for your walkies, it’s time for your walkies. Clothing? What? When did you last see a puppy wear clothing?
From Public Disgrace.
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April 29th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Summer is coming, which means it’s time for ice cream!
Only, this girl seems to be a little confused about what ice cream is for. It’s not really supposed to be used as a pussy coolant…
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April 28th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Vintage medical fetish can be fun! Here’s the setup for a doctor’s office orgy, from a vintage porn magazine called Week-End Sex Color #12:
You sometimes hear the phrase “The ladies were lined up for it” but you don’t usually get to see it visually…
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April 28th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
“Whether a pretty woman grants or withholds her favors, she always likes to be asked for them.”
April 27th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Via Usenet.
April 26th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
Computer gaming? It can expand your horizons in all sorts of ways:
Seraphim Risen > /emote nods. “I’m sure that’s all it was… What if I called you for a booty call?”
Shalee Lianne /emote quirks a thin delicate brow as she looks to her, grinning. “Uh….you’re a girl.”
Seraphim Risen And?
Shalee Lianne …I’m a girl.
Seraphim Risen > AND?
Shalee Lianne One of us seems to be missing a part to make a booty call work. Just saying.
Seraphim Risen /emote shrugs. “That’s what you think.”
Ashar KorAzor (In this chat, Shalee learns about homosexuality.)
Ashar KorAzor > (Full story at eleven.)
Shalee Lianne But…I mean…do you….are you….
Seraphim Risen Am I what?
Seraphim Risen /emote grins
Shalee Lianne /emote couldn’t quite seem to find the words she was looking for.
April 25th, 2011 -- by Bacchus
There’s a tale called The Sultan’s Reverie in the December 1880 edition of The Pearl. It’s a brutal little thing, involving a bored sultan who decides to have some fun with a woman he inherited with his harem, who formerly intrigued against him. But I found this enthusiastic paragraph of Victorian anal worth reproducing here:
His excitement is now at its highest. He throws himself upon her, exclaiming: “Holy Prophet, Holy Prophet, that puts me in mind of your bottom-hole!” Throwing her legs over his shoulders, he first plunges his bursting instrument into her cunny, well to lubricate it, then presents the head to her dark brown fundus; he thrusts furiously and soon gains a partial insertion. “Oh! Oh! You’ll split me!” she screams; “not there, not there, I never would allow the Sultan to do that. Oh, oh! Never. What shame! What filthiness!” she sighs as he pushes on and on, to complete possession, and he rests a little after his exertions, but the nervous nippings and contractions of the fundamental canal are too exciting. He spends a stream of his essence into her bowels which she involuntary meets with a slight heave of her bottom. Both of them exhausted, they remain quite still for some few minutes, affording him infinite pleasure, as he causes his dilated instrument to respond to the contracting pulsations of her anus.
“Are you finished now, you wanton?” withdrawing from her body with a noise something like the drawing of a cork, so tightly is the muscle of her bottom contracted around his still inflamed affair. “Ah, ha! how tightly you hold! Haven’t you had enough?”
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