Peter Piper may have picked a peck of pickled peppers, but the poor bloke who picked this daisy doing the “loves me, loves me not” petal thing certainly got a surprise! Hey, flowers are the sex organs of plants, so you’d best take care when pulling there. *wink* Via.
I was reading about those 1970s sex feet and did some searching of my own. I found this vintage men’s handkerchief, which is bomb-tasticly awesome in its comic book panel-esque sex storyline, done nearly entirely with bare feet. There’s the electric moment when their feet touch ~ and you can feel the “Wanna?” eyebrow wiggles. Then the mount, the action… But what’s up with that one just before the big finis? Presumably her legs go up, he really gets going ~ and goes off like a gunshot! (It looked like a gunshot to the anus to me at first… Still kinda does.) True to what Epiphora & Stoya have been talking about, male ejaculation is the climax that matters in storytelling. No mention or depiction of the lady’s orgasm. I guess that’s why in that last panel only one person looks like they are satisfied enough to roll over and sleep.
Ah, the old Peter Meter. Suitable for measuring-up the man, as well as giving a bottom a good paddle.
Me-wow! Meet the playful peek-a-boo nightie that ruled the boudoir of any proper (improper?!) Mid-Century sex kitten!
A sheer black babydoll nightie made of a cloud of black nylon chiffon, trimmed with a band of satin ribbon just before the slightly ruffled hem made of more sheer black chiffon — all topped off with flirty black marabou feathers! The fluffy feathers are not merely decolletage decoration either, my dears — it serves as the shoulder straps!
Just like something that would have come out of the closet of Monroe, Mansfield or any other bombshell of the 50s or 60s!
Unlike many modern or contemporary nighties, this little vixen is short — short enough to show off those great panties (preferably ruffled!)
I already have 3 of these (2 black, 1 red) or not share this with you & buy it myself. ;)
I’m sure with one glace you’ll recognize the vulva or yoni in all her glory, but a vintage ad from 1975 asks you, “Do You Know What The Flower Of Life Really Is?”
WHAT AN ATTENTION GETTER!
Break the ice — or start a conversation at the same time with this beautiful, eye-catching piece of Jewelry.
Everyone will have something different to say about it…
The epitome of sexuality, “THE FLOWER OF LIFE” pleases all… a lovely blossom for which all men yearn and to which they return time after time… after time.
Designed by a famous voyeur with a love of nature, this erotic pendant is designed in bold 14K gold plate on a fine 18″ chain.
Goes with any outfit!
RUSH YOUR ORDER
and be the first one to show it… like it is!!!
Even better — get two — one for your mate and one for you — THIS IS TOGETHERNESS!
Odd phrasing aside (and some of it is quite odd), I’d like to point out a few things.
Firstly, and sadly, the seller of the ad does not mention what publication it was in… Was it a woman’s magazine or a men’s mag? In reading & rereading the sales pitch, I can go either way. Whatever the publication, it must have been a relatively mainstream hetero-normative one as the ad copy clearly did not recognize that not all men yearn for, let alone return to, such a lovely blossom as the female yoni.
The same 1970s feminism which encouraged women to use mirrors to look at themselves (including in group sessions) often mentioned LGBT rights. To be sure, feminism hasn’t always been as inclusive as it could have been; then or now. But then not all feminist groups were pushing the whole mirror thing either. It was rather radical. But then, as I mentioned, the 1970s was a very confusing time.
Some women gathered with mirrors to look at their vaginas and tell themselves how beautiful they were ~ a grown-up version of Free to Be… You and Me. Others, who presumably had already done the mirror thing, met to discuss sex as power, how women had it and that it was OK to use it ~ and if he didn’t respond to it, he was likely gay. And that was OK too. As was the fact that you might not only find women succumbing to your sexual power, but you might prefer it. All of this likely sent more than a few women back to the mirror with questions.
…And while Cosmo told us that it was OK to go to an orgy, they did so while telling women what to wear ~ which really seemed to send the message of dressing for others, not of the freedom portended.
…The cognitive dissonance was huge
I can only imagine how wearing “The Flower Of Life” vulva necklace played out. Likely it was as mixed as the old risque t-shirt designs. I’m sure everyone would have something different to say about it.
While not all sex workers are into reclaiming the word “whore,” I personally don’t mind it at all. (I understand the political implications and significance of the most appropriate terms “sex work” & “sex workers” and respect those who personally hate the word “whore.” But, with equal respect, I am also entitled to appreciate the word “whore” for myself.) In fact, long before I became an escort, I embraced the word “whore.”
For example, I’ve long been amused by the old song Winnipeg Whore. I may be biased, as it was my first introduction to the song years ago, but I think this song is best when it’s performed like this vintage 1960s sing-along on Adam Stag Record #9.
Imagining my grandparents sitting around drinking beer and participating in a sing-along about a man using the services of a sex worker is, well, something I just wish I could have seen.
However, as it is with most folksy music, there’s a lesson to be learned from the song.
Here, this poor Winnipeg john has his watch & wallet lifted and so folks are advised to visit whores bare so as not to be rolled. The “lesson to be learned here” message is likely not only because this is a folk song either. I’m sure this is much like the old Hollywood Hays Code in that dirty deeds can happen as long as the sinners are punished. Amazingly, it is the john who suffers and not said Winnipeg whore.
But this is only one version of the song.
Like most folk songs, there are several version of the Winnipeg Whore. Grant Hamilton has already done the research and he’s even synthesized the various versions into what he believes is the bawdiest version. In Hamilton’s synthesized version, this is the best ~ and most illuminating ~ verse:
Fucked her once, fucked her twice,
Then I fucked her one time more;
She gave a shout and then she fainted
That was the end of the Winnipeg whore.
I love how the john imagines himself able to fuck his paid female companion into oblivion. Classic male fantasy.
Most illuminating in Hamilton’s post was my discovery of another song or set of songs about Winnipeg whores: Three Old Whores from Winnipeg. (There’s even a two-whore version.)
In all the versions of this song, the sex workers are competing for size bragging rights ~ and with lyrics like these, the women clearly aren’t bragging about the size of their johns dicks. It’s the size of their own genitalia:
Three old whores in Winnipeg
Were drinking a sherry wine,
Says one of them to the other two,
“Yours is smaller than mine.”
Chorus: Oh, take up the sheets, me hearties, water the decks with brine!
Bend to the oars, you lousy whores, none is bigger than mine!
“You’re a liar,” says the other old whore
“Mine’s as big as the sea,
The battleships sail in and out,
And never a bother to me”
“You’re a liar,” says the other old whore,
“Mine’s as big as the moon,
The ships sail in on the first of the year,
And never come out until June.”
“You’re a liar,” says the other old whore,
“Mine’s as big as the air,
the ships sail out and the ships sail in,
And never tickle a hair”
“You’re a liar,” says the first again,
I’d blush to be so small,
Many’s the fleet they sailed right in,
And never come out at all.”
It’s an odd commentary on how the ignorant might imagine a sex worker would brag about her success. Obviously, any successful sex worker knows the importance of keeping a tight ship. But society’s dim view of promiscuous women, paid or not, leads them to pretend that their sexual autonomy comes at a price ~ and that price is undesirability.
One of my vices is collecting sex history. In the past few years, I’ve been focusing mainly on collecting items pertaining to the history of sex work. But on Sunday when I was browsing in a local antique mall I found her, the Nitey Night Campus Cutie figurine made by Marx in 1964 (the year of my birth). With her, my Campus Cutie collection is complete! Now I might just take the others out of storage and display them all. No one in my house is into doll fucking or cumming on figurines, so they’ll be safe.
Those statistics refer to which Sex Over The Phone single cover, front or back, the Village People liked best. Of course, I am only guessing. But I think there’s data to back it up. *wink*
In January, National Trafficking Awareness Month prompted me to hunt for one of the many books in my sex work history collection which would illustrate that it’s the same old story ~ and worse, the…
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