forgotten/lost/miscellaneous

Posts tagged “Sex

3 Decades of Large Breasts: An American Obsession/Is she woman … or animal?/Fascination & Indifference

“Women are always complaining about men’s fascination with breasts. But what if men were absolutely indifferent to breasts? What would women do then with these things that serve one function once or twice in a lifetime, and the rest of the time are just in the way?”

Jonathan Carroll

Some call it the American obsession, but men everywhere recognize the hypnotic allure of a large and shapely breast. In The Big Book of Breasts, Dian Hanson explores the origins of mammary madness through three decades of natural big-breasted nudes. Starting with the World War II Bosom-Mania that spawned Russ Meyer, Howard Hughes’s The Outlaw and Frederick’s of Hollywood, Dian guides you over, around, and in between the dangerous curves of infamous models including Michelle Angelo, Candy Barr, Virginia Bell, Joan Brinkman, Lorraine Burnett, Lisa De Leeuw, Uschi Digard, Candye Kane, Jennie Lee, Sylvia McFarland, Margaret Middleton, Paula Page, June Palmer, Roberta Pedon, Rosina Revelle, Candy Samples, Tempest Storm, Linda West, June Wilkinson, Julie Wills, and dozens more, including Guinness World Record holder Norma Stitz, possessor of the World’s Largest Natural Breasts.

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Russ Meyer – Vixen

Is she woman … or animal?

Download Album Link: Russ Meyers ‘Vixen’ – Original Soundtrack


Readers Wives Polaroids of the 70s/Milano Calibro 9/Cold Flesh the Colour of Potatoes

Make a date with the brassy brides of Britain
The altogether ruder readers’ wives
Who put down their needles and their knitting
At the doorway to our dismal daily lives

The fablon top scenarios of passion
Nipples peep through holes in leatherette
They seem to be saying in their fashion
‘I’m freezing Charlie – haven’t ya finished yet?’

Cold flesh the colour of potatoes
In an Instamatic living room of sin
All the required apparatus
Too bad they couldn’t fit her head in

In latex pyjamas with bananas going ape
Their identities are cunningly disguised
By a six-inch strip of insulation tape
Strategically stuck across their eyes

Wives from Inverness to inner London
Prettiness and pimples co-exist
Pictorially wife-swapping with someone
Who’s happily married to his wrist

John Cooper Clarke

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Milano Calibro 9

Milano calibro 9 is a poliziottesco film written and directed by the Italian crime film specialist Fernando Di Leo in 1972. The film is based on a novel of the same name written by Giorgio Scerbanenco. The soundtrack for the film, Preludio Tema Variazioni e Canzona, is a collaboration album between Luis Enriquez bacalov and the Italian progressive rock group Osanna.

download soundtrack: Milano Calibro 9 -Luis Enriquez Bacalov & Osanna

if you enjoy this album please obtain a legal copy


70s Porn Poster Design/Catholocism/Mr Wankee Man & Me

“I thank God I was raised Catholic, so sex will always be dirty.”

John Waters

and the weekend left me bruised and trampled/paddled by a mistress whose nazi uniform/black strapon and heels/thrashed me on a st andrews cross/and buxom corseted ladies put me in the trampling cage and sat on my face/and put their heels in my mouth/and next to the dance floor a mistress whipped admirers as they lapped at her little pussy through the bars that guarded her/or them/and I thought that whilst that pussy looked good it was maybe riddled with herpes/and my arrogant chin thrust out I drew the line in the sand/and she hit me in the face/and outside the human ashtray/whose burns and ashy grey lips/and sissy boys/where freaks and fingerings/slaps and shuffles/stockings and shoes/breasts constricted in corsets and me drunk/staggering through this/like a half-tranquilised kaiju/riding through the grim carnival like gidrah/stroboscopic lights/and mr wankee man/shuffling dismally/using the least amount of energy and movement possible to slap both thighs with a sore looking penis/in some ketamine disco jiggle/gold lurex leotard/one stocking fallen down/blonde wig and golden mask/but when the mistress prodded my ass with her strappon/I was weary of being thrashed

and

just

wanted

to

get

naked

and

fuck

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Vintage Steroscopic Nudes/It’s On/Peacocks & Lillies

“Remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance.”

John Ruskin

Download Soundtrack: Its On (187um Killa) – Eazy E

If you enjoy this album please obtain a legal copy.


pulp porn novella covers/hot dogs and rams/fela kuti

and these pulp porno novella covers so obscene in terms of their cover art and titles/had to edit the collection and remove the more sinister titles/and who the fuck whacked off to these?/and who the fuck illustrated the covers?/and the titles; The Gay Trap, Moms Donkey Urge and Mom Loves Hot Dogs/these were the tamer titles that I found/that didn’t include rape, cannibalism or torture/so next time you walk down the street and smile at a stranger/answer the door/or sit next to someone on the bus/look at them real close/they could be hot for the ram, a queer daddy or a pussy puncher.

and the morning spent frozen in this city I missed all weekend in Copenhagen/whose 7-11 stores remind me of america/but too cold for a slushy/hung over in hotel rooms/hotdogs and beer/wandered empty misty streets and docks/bow-tie and braces/blowing in my hands rubbing my numb nose/shearling and fur/on return went straight for caribbean food at Kay-Kays/duvet on the couch/laptop out/grape soda/watched elite force and quay brothers/but tonight i’ll cook thai/lime leaves and fish sauce/shut out the world/have some tom-fappery to interracial amateur housewives and shemales on wide 6

and

warm

these

frozen

mits

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download soundtrack: zombie – fela kuti

if you enjoy this album please obtain a legal copy


Annie Get Your Gun/Cannibal Holocaust/Night of the Wang

and the porn then was visceral, all meat and potatoes with a side order of meat/todays filth so clinical with rubbery cold flesh, astro glide, the smell of bleached surfaces and antibacterial hand gel/there is no vaginal discharge, stray hairs, wet pussys, just cold lube smeared on cold thighs sickly sweet/a machine pumping out dilated cunts and viagra engorged wangs.

and they asked buttman in a documentary about his fixation with anal, and he said that it was because it was ‘real’ that you get a ‘real’ reaction from the actress/and I like that, porn thats ‘real’/and rocco siffredi still holds the fort down/no antibacterial hand gel or viagra there/the last great porn auteur/dirty anal kelly in rome part 2 his citizen kane.

and I heard about a cocktail, called a mexican hooker, that consists of tequila, tuna brine and tabasco/and thought it sounded quite good/and talking of mexican hookers, if they all looked like jessica alba in the killer inside me/I’d be continually broke/and they don’t understand that casey affleck is the physically small, appearingly mild mannered psychopath that jim thompson captured and characterised in a lot of his books/and played it perfectly.

so enjoy the tattered magazine covers/ranging from sinister to hillarious/with wild typographic design/and semen glazed laminate/and the riz ortolani soundtrack/ecclectic sounds that somehow are never disjointed/so go get your gun and lets christen this evening

the

night

of

the

wang

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soundtrack: Cannibal Holocaust – Riz Ortolani

if you like this album please purchase a legal copy


Antique Porn/Who would you fuck?/A basement apartment in Cohoes

“The universe is a big place, perhaps the biggest.”

Kilgore Trout

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and it was a toss up between a collection of all those sticky sickly color climax magazine covers where the penises and vaginas all look red raw or these dusty old antique porn images/but it was my mood/and I was drawn to the breasts/the slightly sagging honesty of them/the backgrounds/shoes/and frilly things/lingerie from the the schizophrenic shufflings of a time machine with a mechanical hard-on/their expressions/the accessibility of their imperfection/and the regular beauty we get today so homogenous/with trimmed clams/and dull visits to the gym/the war on cellulite/and the ladies seem cool with it/cool that their bodies are so random and different/and so sexualised because of this/and I want something tangible/something real/ to eat the type of pussy you need to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand when shes done/all these ladies come hard all shaking thighs around your ears/no theatrics/and it makes me think of Kilgore Trout/and Ghostface/and ODB/wide open beavers/but the question is/not about the scattered time periods

but who

would

you

fuck?

soundtrack: Supreme Clientele – Ghostface Killah

if you enjoy this album please purchase a legal copy


Bikers: Colours & Sex

sons of anarchy is kind of like a grubby version of the wonder years; with jax’s soul searching monologues at the end of every episode comparable to kevin arnold’s own insightful and introspective realisations.

kevin and jax’s soliloquies both not only make me want to cave their faces in with my bare fists, but were also cringeworthy to the extent of making me actually ashamed of my species.

the question is,

‘is jax the hamlet of the metrosexual generation?’

the only reasons I’ve watched this show is because of the talents of Ron Perlman, Kim Coates and Bobby Munson. the rest of the show is really kind of lame and/or kind of silly; jax’s consistent childish and self indulgent philosophising, the biker pledge who looks like the cat from coldplay and the soap opera/rape my mum/evil supervillain taking over the town narrative.

as a huge fan of the shield and as having had a long standing interest in biker culture, sons of anarchy was a real disappointment, especially considering the intriguing subject matter, strong cast and the writer/producers previous project.

So, what should it have been like?

It

should

have been

like

this

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