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Ginger’s Oral Workout

Friday, August 6th, 2021 -- by Bacchus

Deep throat is an athletic enterprise — don’t let anybody tell you different! To reach peak performance, the most successful competitors work out and practice vigorously. This enthusiastic oral athlete is Ginger O’Neil, who was a cams performer of some minor celebrity five or ten years ago:

ginger o'neil in workout gear with a headband doing pushups as she deep throats a cock dildo

Here’s a smaller but visually sharper version of the animation.

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Hot Exercise

Friday, February 7th, 2014 -- by Bacchus

sexy-exercise-01

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. When I go to the gym, it’s just not all this sexy up in there:

sexy-exercise-02

sexy-exercise-03

The pictures are actually establishing shots from a recent shoot at Fucking Machines.

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The Wrong Kind Of Loving

Sunday, April 8th, 2012 -- by Bacchus

If this is wrong, I don’t ever want them to get it right:

lesbian gym: the story of a virgin who was seduced into the wrong kind of loving

Although the brunette could stand to take some advice on lifting shoes I think.

 

Good Morning, Sunshine

Monday, November 22nd, 2010 -- by Bacchus

It’s important to greet the morning sun with an appropriate stretching ritual, they say:

flexible beautiful nude stretching in the morning sunshine on a beautiful beach along the surf line

Myself, I’m more inclined to stretch my arm out for my coffee cup…

Image via Kinky Delight.

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Search For Beauty

Sunday, July 5th, 2009 -- by Dr. Faustus

I continue to venture through pre-Code movies made in Hollywood, to see what might be of naughty interest there. This week I came up with Search for Beauty (1934).

Our heroes are Olympic athletes Don Jackson (played by Buster Crabbe) and Good Blond Girl Barbara Hilton (played by Ida Lupino). Their antagonists, a trio of grifters: two rather dim con artists and a not-so-dim Bad Brunette Girl Jean Strange. Jean, who is played by Gertrude Michael) (who we last saw on ErosBlog singing “Sweet Marihuana”), fronts for a racy “fitness” magazine, and then takes over a “health hotel.”

The opening of the movie contains not just stock footage of the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics but both men’s and women’s locker room scenes. The men’s scene contains the earliest guy-butt shot I know of in a mass-release Hollywood movie.

bare male butts in the locker room

Leading man Buster Crabbe was an All-American swimmer in real life. He would go on to become the first cinematic Flash Gordon as well as Buck Rogers. This movies dares not just to ask, but also to answer, the question “what does he look like in the shower?”

Pretty good, as it turns out.

Buster Crabbe naked in the shower

The big gag about the “health hotel” is that manly Don combs the world for the best male and female athletes from the United States and the British Empire to serve as “instructors,” and we all know what our trio of grifters hope that will lead to.

(Cranky digressive rant: In the mind of whoever wrote this movie, “The British Empire” apparently meant only the United Kingdom and the pre-war Dominions (i.e. Ireland, Canada, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand), and the only athletes worth looking at anywhere were white. This in spite of the fact that India, at least, though part of the British Empire in 1934, sent its own teams to the 1932 Summer Olympics. Their mixed race (to the best of my ability to tell, by reading its roster) field hockey team took home gold medals. But there’s nary an athlete of visible African or Asian ancestry to be seen herein. Internal response to cranky digressive rant: Dude, it’s 1934. Do you really expect both racial enlightenment and guy butts in the same 77-minute movie?)

Anyway, once all the beautiful young people are assembled, they’re obliged to put on a gratuitous Art Deco style musical number, so carefully coordinated that one wonders if it didn’t inspire Leni Riefenstahl. The homoerotic element is not neglected, naturally.

guys exercising

The plot of the movie cranks forward from there, given a bit of crackle by the fact that it’s largely a battle of wits between Good Blond Girl and Bad Brunette Girl. Good Blond Girl wins in the end, with a bit of legal trickery that probably violated local Blue Sky laws (but hey, who’s counting), winning both corporate control of the health hotel and the heart (and excellent pecs) of Buster Crabbe. All ends happily for our heroes. They even get a bad visual pun to end the movie with.

the end of the movie

But perhaps that’s not my favorite detail. That would be the pair of shots depicting the fate of Bad Brunette Girl, who is forced to “exercise” at the end of the movie. Take a close look at one of her “instructors” in the background.

exercise scene

No, a closer look:

vintage camel toe

Even in the pre-Code era, movie studios had censors. All I can say about whoever watched this movie is “dock that censor a day’s pay for napping on the job.”

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On Looking At Women

Thursday, May 11th, 2006 -- by Bacchus

CJ at Boyspoke posts from the front lines in an LA gym, about getting glared at when looking at women:

The thing is, these women — you know, the ones at the gym? They’re dressed — umm — gorgeously. Yes, even at the gym. I mean, I know Spandex is a privilege and not a right, but these women deserve to wear Spandex. Some of them even go as far as to wear athletic bras. And just athletic bras…at least on top; yes, they put on stuff that covers their other parts. It’s like, hel-LO, gorgeous women are all around me and some of them are dressed in even less than the ones I see walking down the street!

Naturally, I look. And I’m not really a gawker, but there are some times when I’m checking out the women. You would, too. It’s not like I’m making comments and pointing or being incredibly obvious or anything like that, I’m just, you know…gently checking them out. The problem is: some of them apparently don’t take kindly to being checked out. I get dirty looks in return.

I call foul on that. In fact, I call triple-foul on that. For crying out loud, if you’re dressed in an outfit like that, how can you expect me not to check you out? You’re wearing next to nothing. And the stuff that you are wearing is barely leaving anything to the imagination. Honestly, I think it’s be a crime for me not to look.

Here’s my thing: If you don’t want to be checked out, then dress accordingly. If you don’t want me to look at your boobs, cover them. If you don’t want me to admire your legs, don’t wear short shorts. There’s no law that prohibits you from wearing a loose t-shirt and baggy track pants instead of a sports bra and Spandex Daisy Dukes. And if you do wear the sports bra and Spandex Daisy Dukes … you’re not allowed to be displeased when I check you out.

First of all, there’s admittedly a line between looking and leering that not all men can find — or maybe they just don’t care to. But if we assume, despite the dirty look evidence to the contrary, that CJ is safely on the right side of the line with his “gently checking them out”, what’s up with that?

I know the gym is a problem for some women; in my town we’ve got women-only gyms and gyms with women-only areas for just this reason. But at the coed gym, when a woman has dressed to impress, does she really expect the guys to maintain monastic eyes-front-and-downcast look-at-nothing-but-the-equipment-in-front-of-me eyeball discipline? If so, is she not manifestly insane?

I have my own theory, which is that when she’s dressed to impress but glaring at you for looking, you’re not in the category of people whose eye she hoped to catch. Just for instance, you might be a man, ugh, and she might be there to attract the gaze of another woman. Or you might not meet her standard of beauty; she wants to catch the eye of someone as svelte as herself, and can’t abide being looked at by some regularly-sized slug.

 

Oooh, Excercise

Wednesday, February 5th, 2003 -- by Bacchus

This sort of thing might be able to convince even Bacchus that exercise can be fun.

naked aerobics

It gets better. What are they doing, practicing Gorean slave girl postures?

more naked aerobics

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