Slice : Wank Wednesday

Today we arrive once more at Wank Wednesday, an institution established by Ruby Kiddell at The Erotic Notebook. Here is how she explains it :

Welcome to week 13 of Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut.

With so many great writers of smut and erotica on Twitter and the web I thought it would be a nice idea to get a smutty blog carnival going. For writers or would be writers a weekly prompt will get you writing and as a reader well you’ll be able to get your fix of sexy stories all in one go.

All you need to do to join in is to write a story using this week’s prompt #slice and then;

Blog it – post it on your blog then come back here and add it to the link list.

Tweet it – write it on twitter using the prompt hashtag and the #wankwednesday hashtag.

Add it – if you don’t want to blog or tweet it then please do add it as comment to my post.

WE it – if you are a member at Word Ejaculation you can submit with them too, just remember to link back to me here and to add your entry to the link list.

A couple of housekeeping points;

Please include a link back to this post in your post, if not I’ll remove it from the link list.

Please take the time to read and comment on some of the other posts, it is after all about writing and encouraging writing.

Thank you for writing and reading.

Slice

No matter which way you slice it, two girls are better than none. That was the decision I had to make when Clara fell in love with Maisie.

Clara and I had been living together for ten years at that stage. We were best mates. We weren't lovers, but we did spend a lot of time fucking each other, licking each others erogenous zones and wanking off together. We were friends and these were friendly activities. True, our relationship was an unconventional one. Essentially, we didn't believe in repression. We could have pretended not to have sexual feelings for each other simply because we didn't think about each other in a romantic way, but why should we live with that awkwardness and deny ourselves lots of pleasure?

From time to time we did get involved with someone romantically. If we thought they were open-minded, then we didn't hide our uninhibited home life. If we thought it would trouble them, we did the compassionate thing and didn't tell them about it.

But when Clara met Maisie it looked like things had come to a crossroad. It was a match made in heaven. They were crazy about each other. So I did the honourable thing and started looking for another apartment. But then one afternoon, when I came back from a hard day of apartment hunting, Clara announced that she and Maisie had been discussing the situation and had come to a decision.

"We've decided to keep you," she told me. "The landlord won't let us have a dog or cat."

"How magnanimous of you," I replied, acidly. "Will I have to eat kibbles and poo in a litter tray?"

"Don't be a grumpy bum," she chuckled, poking me in the belly. "You like Maisie and Maisie likes you. It won't be so different from how it has always been. You might have to whack off a bit more, because Maisie and I are going to be very busy licking each others pussies. But you never know, we might need your cock from time to time if the batteries go flat in our vibrators."

I wasn't at all sure that this arrangement was going to be good for my dignity. But what guy could possibly turn down a front row seat at a lesbian lickoff?

For a couple of weeks I had the place to myself. The lovers had decided to spend some time in Paris having a horny honeymoon. On the first couple of evenings I went out to nudie bars with some of my mates. When I got sick of their company I stocked the refrigerator with beer, and spent my evenings masturbating to internet porn. By the end of the second week I was in a very maudlin mood, binging on chocolate bars while watching Clara's chick flick DVDs with a pair of Maisie's knickers on my head.

On a Saturday afternoon they returned with suitcases full of new clothes.

"Let's have a movie night!" suggested Clara.

So we headed down to the local video store. Clara always prefers to pick something off the shelf the old fashioned way rather than get DVDs through the mail or download movies off the internet.

"I feel like something creepy," she said.

"How about this one," suggested Maisie, picking up a film entitled Sorority Shish Kebab.

"What's it about?" I asked.

"It's a slice and dice movie about a cannibal who only eats vegans," explained Maisie enthusiastically.

How could we say "No" to that? On the way home we picked up a family sized capricciosa pizza, a large order of spaghetti bolognese, assorted bags of lollies and two two litre bottles of Coke.

"We had a fantastic movie marathon in our hotel room in Paris," gushed Maisie. "We watched all six Star Wars movies one after the other and then Clara wrapped a sheet around herself, stuck fruit buns on the sides of her head and gave me a foaming Chewbacca!"

"Dare I ask what a foaming Chewbacca is?" I queried.

"We found out about it on the internet and just had to try it," Clara pointed out.

"Yeah, I licked her clit until she was right on the verge," explained Maisie, " and then I lifted up her bum and filled her cunt with pop rocks and cola. You should have seen her squirm!"

"And after I squirted my juices into the mix she drank the lot," added Clara proudly.

"Have you ever heard of the Light Sabre Lollipop?" I asked, unzipping my fly.

"Don't be stupid," Clara replied. "You don't even like Star Wars."

Clara turned on the television and we watched a bit of Wipe Out while eating the spaghetti. When a fat guy bounced off of one of the balls and somersaulted into the water, I laughed so hard I spilled spaghetti sauce all over my t-shirt.

"We can't take you anywhere!" complained Clara.

"We aren't anywhere," I pointed out. "We're at home."

"I think he'd better take all of his clothes off," suggested Maisie. "It'll take him ages to get that sauce out of his t-shirt, and we wouldn't want him to make a mess of his jeans as well."

"Why don't you ladies join me?" I suggested.

"We don't need to," replied Clara. "We don't make a mess."

Well, I've always been something of a closet exhibitionist. And if they don't want to see my closet then I'll happily show them my cock.

I kicked off my thongs, took off my soiled t-shirt and stood up and pulled down my jeans.

"And these too," declared Maisie, pulling down my underpants and leaving me completely naked. "Nice bum," she declared with a giggle.

We ate the rest of the spaghetti without incident, then the girls decided that they wanted to get more comfortable, so they went into their bedroom and changed into their pyjamas. They were determined to maintain their position of power over me, however, so they closed the door and didn't let me peek. All the same, by the time they came back my cock was semi-erect just from thinking about being totally naked with a pair of girls whose pussies could be exposed with a simple tug on their pyjama bottoms.

"Pizza time!" cried Maisie, opening the box.

I grabbed a big slice with lots of olives. Immediately the front flopped down and a huge dollop of melted cheese fell right onto my swollen cock.

"I'll get it!" cried Maisie, diving between my legs and hungrily licking and sucking the mozzarella from my manhood. For a few moments I was in heaven, but it didn't last. She came up giggling and wiping the grease from her chin. "I never thought I'd be hungry enough to eat the cheese off a guy's cock," she declared.

"Ewwww. You're so gross!" exclaimed Clara.

"I think you like me that way," teased Maisie, giving Clara a cuddle. "Because you know I'm dirty enough to do anything you want me to do, even pee on your clit."

"Pee on her clit?" I enquired. "Tell me more."

"No, don't," insisted Clara, turning red.

"Clara's a kinky girl," Maisie told me. "She likes to lay back naked in an empty bath with her legs spread and play with herself. And then she likes me to get naked too and squat over her in the bath and let out a hot stream of steaming piss right onto her excited little girl boner. Don't you Clara?"

"You didn't have to tell him," she complained.

"Now, now," I told her, "we mustn't have any secrets. The more we share the more we care."

"Exactly," agreed Maisie. "That's why Clara and I logged onto your computer back when you were apartment hunting and found your collection of she-male porn."

"What?!?" I exclaimed.

"You don't have to be embarassed," Maisie reassured me. "We like big cocks too, only we prefer them when they're on men."

"Let's watch the movie!" cried Clara.

So we turned off all the lights and fired up the BluRay player.

I sat next to Clara and Maisie sat on her other side. Maisie took charge of opening the packets of lollies. There were Jaffas and aniseed rings and Minties.

The first time the killer leapt out of the shadows and chopped someone's head off Maisie jumped and the Jaffas rained down all over us. And Clara grabbed my leg as she screamed.

The next time the killer struck, I screamed and grabbed Clara's left boob. She looked down disapprovingly and coughed.

"I know what you're thinking," she told me. "You're thinking this movie is going to scare the pants off us. Well, it's not. Our pants are staying put."

"Cooorrrrr!" I groaned, a few minutes later, as the screen filled with soapy naked sorority sisters in the shower, and my cock stood to attention.

"Want some help there?" chided Clara, grabbing my stiff cock in her left hand and tugging the loose skin up and down.

"Don't encourage him. He's such a dirty boy," put in Maisie. The room was dark, but not so dark that I couldn't see that she had her hand down her pyjama bottoms and appeared to be energetically scratching an itch that was several centimetres inside her vagina.

The killer continued his spree. When one girl closed the mirrored door of her bathroom cabinet in such as way as to reveal the killer grinning evilly over her shoulder, Maisie squealed and pulled her feet up onto the couch.

"I think Maisie's going to piss herself," I pointed out. "You better get your girl boner out."

"If you don't stop teasing me about that, I'll get her to take a dump on your head," threatened Clara.

"If she did that, I'd have to sue 'er," I cracked. "Get it, take a dump... sewer..."

"You are going to have to pay for that!" exclaimed Maisie. "Clara, how many Jaffa's do you think you can fit in your cunt?"

The next thing I knew, the movie was on pause, Clara's pyjama bottoms were around her ankles, and me and Maisie were hunting the floor for Jaffas. In the end Maisie managed to fit 37 Jaffas into Clara's vagina. Then it was my job to use suction and the prying power of my tongue to try to get them all back out. Clara was loving it, squealing and giggling and spasming. My cock was stiff again. On the downside all that candy was making me feel a little queasy. But things were going fairly well until Clara orgasmed. When that happened the combination of lubrication from her pussy juices and her vaginal spasms caused the remaining Jaffas to shoot out of her cunt and into the back of my throat. One of them stuck there and I began to choke.

"Heimlich Maneuver!" cried Maisie grabbing me around the waist from behind and squeezing up under my rib cage.

The Jaffa shot out of my mouth, flew across the room and hit the stereo, turning on the radio. The voice of Tom Jones burst out into the semi-darkness singing, "What's new pussycat! Woah, Woah!"

"I think we'd better return to the homicidal maniac," declared Maisie. "Playing with Jaffas is too dangerous."

Once the movie was over we turned the lights back on and began tidying up. Maisie put what was left of the pizza in the fridge. Clara cleaned down the table top. My contribution to the clean up effort was to pull the girl's pyjama bottoms down every time they had their hands full. Eventually they decided it was just easier to strip off. When they came back from washing the glasses in the kitchen they found me standing in the middle of the lounge room with fifteen aniseed rings stretched over my erect cock.

"Anyone still have a sweet tooth?" I enquired.

"Both sweet and sharp," threatened Maisie doing the Piranha Chomp.

Then she came over and took the aniseed rings off one by one with her fingers and made me eat them.

My cock was still stiff. I put my arms around the girls and fondled a soft butt cheek with each hand.

"After watching that movie I'm scared stiff," I told them. "I'm afraid the Boogey Man will get me if I don't sleep in your bed tonight."

"O.K." said Maisie. "But you're sleeping on the wet spot."

For the next half hour I lay stroking my cock as I watched Maisie and Clara licking each other's pussies.

"I know you want to fuck me," said Maisie, taking a brief respite from her clit-sucking activities. "I'm not really so cruel. I'm just a tease. Why don't to crawl over Clara and slide right in. Don't worry about giving her a bit of a teabagging. Just don't expect her to lick your balls. Her tongue's mine for the time being."

So I threw a leg over Clara, bounced my balls on her forehead and gave Maisie a playful slap on the arse before sliding my cock home into her warm wet pussy. I could feel the heat of Clara's breath over my balls as she continued to lick her lover's pleasure button. It wasn't long before we all climaxed and collapsed onto the bed in a heap. Maisie's lips were covered in Clara's juices, and Clara's in both Maisie's juices and mine.

I was just returning to their bed, after drinking some orange juice, having a shower and brushing my teeth, when Maisie whispered something to Clara.

"Maisie hasn't had enough pussy licking," Clara told me. "I'm too tired. Would you mind helping her out?"

"Not at all," I replied, ever the gentleman.

"Come around here and get under the covers," Maisie requested.

I crawled into her side of the bed and slid down between her legs. She pulled the quilt up over my head.

"O.K.," she said. "Hold him Clara!"

"What's going on?" I protested, as Clara leaned on me hard.

Then Maisie let out a long, loud fart. It had a stench so thick you could slice it.

Life, The Universe & Chocolate Bunnies!

Although the most important holiday for the Christian religion, celebrating its central figure's alleged return from the grave, Easter derives its name from a pagan goddess named Éostre. The concept of a new beginning and life's triumph over death are represented in the symbols of eggs and the notoriously fertile rabbit.

Whether one is a believer, or an unbeliever like myself, there is something to be celebrated at Easter time.

Some of my atheist friends act a little embarrassed by religious holidays and try to distance themselves, for instance renaming Christmas as Newtonmas (since December 25th was Isaac Newton's birthday.) To me this has always seemed kind of silly. Christmas and Easter, while specifically Christian holidays, are also about the celebration of things which are not limited to one form of belief, but are, in fact, universal. Christmas is a celebration of love, community and generosity. And Easter is a celebration of life's persistence and of fertility.

In recent times we've seen some terrible natural disasters as well as man-made conflicts troubling various parts of the world. The wonderful thing about life in general and humans in particular is that such things do not defeat us. In the wake of each disaster, the survivors reestablish their communities, homes are rebuilt, babies are born and life goes on. For me, this is what Easter celebrates. Death doesn't win.

But also it celebrates fertility. This is not just biological fertility. If I wished fertility on you, many of you would probably scream, "No, that's the last thing I need!" But fertility is not just about producing babies. It is about the fecundity of the soil in which we plant a seed, be that seed an idea, a monetary investment or a literal seed that we plant in our garden. To toast fertility is to wish that those seeds bear fruit. Unless they are vegetable seeds, in which case it would just be weird for them to bear fruit.

One need not believe in Heaven or Hell to believe that life is not limited to our physical bodies, finite as they are in time and space. Our deeds and our ideas sow seeds which can have a life of their own, bearing fruit in places we will never visit and also long after we cease to exist as individuals.


The internet is the perfect example of this. The inventors of Facebook, Twitter or Google could die tomorrow, but that which they created would continue to have a life of its own, providing a conduit for social interactions the outcome of which noone can possibly predict.

Recently I've been taking part in the Twitterotica challenges created by Ruby Kiddell and Aisling Weaver. Here is another example of seeds which bare fruit. A seed word is sown over Twitter and lands in the fertile minds of sundry degenerates who set to work to create some prime filth. Nobody could predict the fruity tales of debauchery they produce. These in turn are disseminated over the net where they themselves perhaps inspire much stiffness and wetness of generative organs. And what happens after that is anybody's guess. But the point is that a simple idea in one person's mind ended up effecting the lives of many in ways that they will never fully know.

So what can make us more fertile in this broader sense? Well, just as the fertility of a woman is unlikely to bear fruit if she doesn't open her legs, so an open mind is most conducive to the success of productive endeavours of all kinds. And nothing stands in the way of such success like a closed mind. The most wonderful of creations are those which could never have been predicted. And the belief that we can predict the future closes us off to the seeds of such creations. Few of us would claim to be psychic, but we think we can predict the future when we say such things as : "I'll never get that job promotion!" ; "No member of the opposite sex could find me attractive!" ; or "All my problems will be solved when I win the lottery!" It is welcoming the unknowability of the future with open arms and following ideas to see what they lead to, rather than presupposing that they are worthless, which allows us to make the most of life's creative principle.

But let us also not forget that Easter is a time for perving at scantily clad girls in bunny ears and eating lots of chocolate!

Also not a bad time for catching up with a movie or two or some reading. Here are some suggestions :


MOVIES


The Religious Aspects of the Holiday


Jesus Christ Superstar (1973)


Ted Neeley makes for a whiny, annoying Christ, but it is all about Carl Anderson's dynamic Judas, Yvonne Elliman singing "I Don't Know How to Love Him", and Josh Mostel in his bathing trunks asking Jesus to walk across his swimming pool. Andrew Lloyd Webber's finest moment if you ask me.


The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964)


Who would have guessed that a movie by an atheistic communist homosexual would come in at number two on Pope John Paul II's recommended movies list. A starkly beautiful film in the Italian neo-realist style. A counterpoint to Pasolini's last film Salo, the watching of which is a bit like being crucified.


Ben-Hur (1959)


One of my all-time favourites, this has it all. A crucifixion scene which can even ring tears from a devoted heathen such as myself, the splendiferous spectacle of the naval battle and chariot scenes, and lashings of homo-erotic chest-baring and muscle flexing.

Life of Brian (1979)


Look on the bright side of life with a comic masterpiece which, contrary to the views of some of its critics, is not disrespectful to Jesus or his believers, poking fun, instead, at those who are less discriminate in their faith-placing as well as at bureaucracies and misguided forms of rebellion.


Chocolate

Chocolat (2000)


Chocolate as a source of romance and eroticism. A charming film from the director of Abba : The Movie.


Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (1971)


Tim Burton is a genius, but Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was not his finest moment. Go back to the original film starring Gene Wilder. And it has a classic song in "The Candy Man".

Rabbits

Harvey (1950)


Films don't come any funnier or more charming than this tale in which Jimmy Stewart's relationship with an imaginary giant rabbit causes consternation to all around him.


The Bugs Bunny/Road Runner Movie (1979)


Everybody's favourite rabbit - trickster, anarchist and inveterate cross-dresser. There's no-one like Bugs and this movie was a showcase for some of his funniest cartoons.

Night of the Lepus (1972)


If you are truly perverse (and if you're not, what are you doing on my blog?), you'll want to check out this mind-numbing horror misfire, supposedly based on a novel called The Year of the Angry Rabbit by distinguished Aussie author Russell Braddon. It's all about giant mutant bunny rabbits that eat people! The original title of the movie was going to be Rabbits, but they were afraid people wouldn't take a horror movie with that name seriously. Needless to say, they still didn't take it seriously.

EROTICA


Chocolate

Heidi Klum...yum!

Lavender and Chocolate by Dalide (Lady Laid Bare)


Read this mouthwatering story and then break out the chocolate bodypaint with your partner!


Hot Cross Buns

Emily Winters and Tender-Bottomed Girl always have buns which are hot and cross from having received the spankings that naughty girls such as themselves so richly deserve. So why not go sample the sweetness of their just desserts?


My Favourite Easter Bunny

Rosie, model and photographer for Girls Out West.

Bolt : Wank Wednesday

It's Wank Wednesday again as hosted by Ruby Kiddell at The Erotic Notebook. Here is how she explains it :

Welcome to week eight of Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut. 

With so many great writers of smut and erotica on Twitter and the web I thought it would be a nice idea to get a smutty blog carnival going. For writers or would be writers a weekly prompt will get you writing and as a reader well you’ll be able to get your fix of sexy stories all in one go.

To join in all you need to do is write a story with the weekly prompt as a title. This week’s prompt is #Bolt. Then:

• Blog it – post it on your blog then come back here and add it to the link list.

• Tweet it – write it on twitter using the prompt hashtag and the #wankwednesday hashtag

• Add it – if you don’t want to blog or tweet it then please do add it as comment to my post

• WE it – if you are a member at Word Ejaculation you can submit with them too, just remember to link back to me here and to add your entry to the link list.

Please link back to this page in your post and please also do take the time to read and comment on the other contributors, we’ll all keep on writing but it is so much nicer to do so with feedback.

Thank you for writing and reading.

Bolt

You were made by God, dear reader, but I was not. I am the handiwork of one Frau Baroness Von Frankenstein, P.M.S.*

One day they will say of me that I had the hands of a surgeon, the body of an athlete and the face of an artist's model. This is quite literally the case. My hands once belonged to Dr. Seymour Kuntz, the famous Austrian gynecologist. The bulk of my body belonged to the Scottish amateur rugby player and professional thief, Rob Banks. And my face was that of German artist's model, turned stage actor, turned strangler of pretty women, Hart Throb. Throb had really lost his head while on tour in Paris. The guillotine will do that to you. My brain is that of the Baroness's late hunchbacked assistant, Ygor. And my cock belonged to... Well, I don't know. Some guy who had an enormous cock.

The Baroness claims to be a benefactor of mankind, but one has to ask, if that is the case, why she has kept me a secret to the rest of the world. The answer, it seems to me, is obvious. Sex slaves are hard to come by in Bavaria at the moment, especially sex slaves with ten inch cocks.

So that is how I came to be lying chained and naked on a pile of animals skins in the dungeon. Each night I would hear the key turn in the lock, then the bolt would slide back and the Baroness would open the door. She was always stark naked. She would stand over me for a while with her legs spread defiantly. She would look down at me and play with herself. I could tell that she loved the anticipation of impaling herself on my mighty cock, which always rose to the occasion with great alacrity.

I had mixed feelings about being fucked by the Baroness. She took me for granted. She treated me like a piece of meat. And she clearly had no fondness for me as an individual. In the body of Ygor she had beaten me mercilessly. Why did I put up with it? Well, jobs for hunchbacks were not plentiful, and there was no union for mad scientist's lab assistants.

But I had my own physical needs. When your mother is the grave and your father is a lightning bolt it tends to make you kind of horny. And death has a way of removing one's inhibitions. So I fucked her and sucked her and filled her with cum. But it always left me feeling dirty.

So, on this particular night, it was with the usual combination of stiff cock and heavy heart that I heard the key turn in the lock and the bolt slide back on the door. But when the door opened I saw that it was not the Baroness, but a very pretty servant girl with whom I was not acquainted.

"The Baroness was very careless to go out and leave her keys in the door," said the rosy-cheeked raven-haired beauty.

"And you are a very brave girl to enter the monster's cage," I pointed out.

"Monster?" she queried, and then looked down at my erect penis. "Oh, my, you're right. You do have a monster!"

"Sadly, I myself, am a monster," I explained. "Your mistress made me out of a pile of corpses."

"Yes," said the maid. "She always has been into recycling."

"You mean that I do not disgust you?" I asked.

"Nah," she replied. "I've seen stiffs before."

"You clean in the Baroness's laboratory perhaps?" I queried.

"Yeah, I've seen it all. Brains in tanks. Two-headed cats. You name it. And loads of stiffs. Although," she added, giggling, "never a stiff with a stiff."

She came over and sat down beside me. Then she looked me in the eye with a cheeky smile and began stroking my stiff cock.

"What's your name, my sweet?" I asked her.

"Dora Bull," she replied.

"Not the Dora Bull, toast of the London dance halls?" I queried.

"No, I'm not the Dora Bull, but I'm a Dora Bull," she told me.

"You certainly are," I agreed, kissing her on the nose. "You wouldn't happen to have the keys to these shackles?"

"I do," she said, hesitantly, "but how do I know that, if I unlock you, you won't rip off all of my clothes, throw me down on the floor and ravish my tender maidenhood with your enormous cock."

"I promise that I will act towards you as a perfect gentleman," I assured her.

"Oh, well," she said, sounding disappointed. "I suppose I better set you free anyway."

So saying, she grabbed the set of keys out of the door and set about unlocking my ankle bracelets. In no time at all I was free.

"Guess what?" I smiled.

"What?" she asked.

"I lied," I informed her, grabbing the neck of her servant's dress with both hands and rending it down the middle, thus setting free her soft, pale breasts.

"Oh, goodie!" she cried, as I ripped off her bloomers, and threw her, now completely naked, onto the pile of animals skins.

I was made for making love. My athlete's body knew how to hold a woman. My actor's eyes knew how to gaze adoringly into hers while my actor's lips kissed passionately. My gynecologist's hands knew their way around a woman's pussy. And my cock... Well, my cock knew how to be enormous.

"Ouch!" cried Dora, as I slid my battering ram deep into her furry fortress.

"You'll get used to it," I assured her, rolling over so that she could be on top.

"Mind if I hang onto your bolts?" she asked, grasping the metal protrusions that adorned each side of my neck.

"Actually, they're not bolts," I explained. "They're electrodes."

"Oh," she replied. "They sure look like bolts."

"Well, they're not. O.K.?" I told her, testily.

"No need to get snarky about it," she whined.

So I spanked her hard on the bottom for being so impertinent. She seemed to like it and rode up and down on my throbbing cock all the more vigorously.

"It's certainly a delight to be able to fuck someone as charming as yourself," I informed her, as I pulled her down so that her soft breasts squashed against my barrel of a chest, and played gently around her bottomhole with the index finger of my right hand. "The Baroness is such a cunt. She likes to come on all Godlike in the sack, which is a real drag."

"Oh, the Baroness is nuts," agreed Dora. "Hey, I made a funny. Nuts. Nuts and bolts."

"They're not fucking bolts, O.K.!" I shouted, grabbing her by the throat.

"Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Choke me!" she cried. "I love that!"

Well, it was only a couple more minutes before I came so hard that Dora flew about a foot up in the air, her pussy surrendering my exploding cock with an all-mighty "Plop!" and her already tender bottom landed painfully on the cold hard floor. Lightning, I tell ya, it does strange things to the human reproductive system.

"I will forever be indebted to you, my darling Dora, for freeing me from my piteous state of bondage," I proclaimed, bowing graciously.

"Don't mention it tall, dark and gruesome," she laughed, as she waved goodbye.

And with that I bounded down the corridor, up the stairs, and out into the blinding light of a sunny afternoon.

I wandered off through the woods, having no idea what to do next.

About mid-afternoon I came upon an open glade on the shore of a placid lake. There I discovered a little girl with freckles and red hair woven into plaits. She was picking flowers.

As I walked closer, my mighty shadow fell across her and she turned her innocent, trusting gaze my way. First she looked at my feet, and then her gaze went up and up and up until it reached my face. And she smiled, the warm smile of a child who has not yet learned that all in this world do not mean her well.

"Nice bolts!" she said.

So I picked her up and threw her in the lake and went on my way.

It was only about a half-hour later that I came upon a stone cottage. Clearly it was inhabited as a thin plume of smoke drifted up from its chimney.

Before knocking on the door, I thought I had better get some idea of who lived there. Not everyone takes kindly to a naked monster with a ten-inch cock knocking on their door in the middle of the afternoon.

When I went around the side and looked in the window I was surprised to see that the sole inhabitant was a beautiful blonde girl who was, like me, completely naked. I soon came to suspect that she was also blind, as she put her hands out in front of her as she walked around, patting the furniture.

This was a piece of luck. She needn't know that I was a monster, or that I was naked. And she might be persuaded to provide me with some sustenance.

So I knocked on the front door and soon the blind girl opened it, though only far enough to poke her head around it.

"Can I help you?" she asked. "I am blind so I'm afraid I cannot see who you are."

"I am but a wayfaring stranger, looking for a place to rest his weary feet and perhaps partake of a cup of tea," I replied.

"O.K.," she said. "But I had better put something on. I never wear any clothes in this sort of weather. It seems kind of pointless since I never have company and I myself cannot see what I am wearing."

"Please do not trouble yourself," I replied. "For I too am a nudist out on a clothes-free ramble."

"Oh, you are?" she cried, happily. "Then come right in."

"Henrietta is my name," she informed me, reaching out to shake my hand. But she was a good deal shorter than me and what she grabbed was my semi-erect cock. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "You didn't tell me you were a salami salesman."

"I am not a merchant of smallgoods," I assured her.

"No, it's certainly not small, and it is getting bigger in my hand," she pointed out. "It's your cock, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," I admitted. "And this is your bottom and these are your boobs..."

"It's not nice of you take advantage of a poor girl's disability," she informed me, but the way that she was happily wanking on my cock told me she really didn't mind.

And so, as she prepared us each a cup of tea, we enjoyed a game of Blind Girl in the Buff. I would come up and lick one of her nipples and run away before she could reach out and grab me. And next it might be a finger her in pussy, or I would smack her bottom with my stiff cock. And each time I would manage to slip away from between her questing hands.

Eventually, the tea was ready and she placed the two cups on the table. I sat down on one of the wooden chairs. And then, much to my surprise, Henrietta sat on my lap.

"Oh!" she cried. "I thought you sat in the other chair."

By some miraculous coincidence, as she sat down her suspiciously wet pussy slid right down over my upstanding prick.

"That's O.K.," I replied. "You can stay there if you are comfortable."

"Oh, I'm very comfortable," she sighed.

Thus did it come to pass that I sat with my tea cup in my right hand and my left hand under Henrietta's left thigh so that my super strong left biceps could bounce her up and down on my rigid member as we drank our tea.

"This sure beats cucumber sandwiches!" she exclaimed.

Then she turned to kiss me and her hand fell upon one of my electrodes.

"Why do you have a bolt in your neck?" she asked.

"It's not a bolt. It's an electrode," I sighed.

"Oh, O.K.," she replied.

I reached down and gently stroked her stiff clit as I continued to bounce her up and down on my cock. Soon she was quivering in ecstasy as I spurted a quart of jism up her pussy. I made sure to hold her tight as I didn't want a repeat of what had happened to Dora.

Just at this moment I noticed a distant sound of yelling. It was coming closer. When I looked out the window I could see a procession of women carrying torches approaching through the forest.

"Monster! Monster!" they were crying.

Dora must have been gossiping I thought to myself. There was no other way these women could have known of my existence.

"Normally I wouldn't mind the idea of a woman carrying a torch for me," I muttered, "but this is ridiculous."

"We've heard that there is a monster on the rampage ravishing women with his enormous cock," cried the leader of the mob. "And we are determined to protect the village even if it means sacrificing our own vaginas!"

"They sound like they mean business," said Henrietta. "You'd better bolt!"

*Professor of Mad Science.

King of the Crotch Operas - David F. Friedman RIP (1923-2011)

The name David F. Friedman won't get a mention in any academic course on the history of cinema and none of his films are ever going to get into one of those books of movies you must see before you die, but he brought entertainment to the masses in a way that Godard and Bergman couldn't. He was the first to admit that most of the films he produced were not very good, but he had fun making them and audiences kept coming back for more. At heart he remained the carny that he was before he got into the film business. He entertained by showing people things they had never seen on the big screen before, first nudity, then gore, and later sex. He was the Mighty Monarch of Exploitation, one of a merry band of confidence men (and women) who made up for their lack of skill in filmmaking by including in their films various salacious or shocking ingredients that mainstream Hollywood would not touch. But even more than the visuals in the films themselves what counted was the way they were sold. More was always promised than could possibly be delivered, but that was half the fun. Friedman's philosophy was that you "sell the sizzle not the steak". This is why he was not keen on the arrival of hardcore porn features which actually delivered on his false promises. To him this was poor business. But he did relent and produce some better than average hardcore porn features in the seventies and early eighties.

Friedman's cinematic output falls into a series of genres, each characterising a period in his career. After learning the exploitation film business while working for Kroger Babb, producer of the notorious sex education movie Mom and Dad (1945), with its then shocking birth of a baby sequence, Friedman teamed up with director Herschell Gordon Lewis in 1961 to make a nudie cutie called The Adventures of Lucky Pierre. While loops featuring cute girls cavorting nude had been popular in penny arcades and sold to collectors through the mail for years, it was Russ Meyer who established the nudie cutie feature as a new genre of motion picture in 1959 with The Immoral Mr. Teas. As with any hugely popular innovation, poor imitations of Meyer's work proliferated. Both Teas and Lucky Pierre consisted of a loosely connected series of corny gags featuring beautiful nude women. The spirit was that of burlesque theatre which had always mixed beautiful scantily clad women with low brow gags and slapstick. Friedman and Lewis followed up this very successful first collaboration with two nudist camp movies. One of the key tricks of the exploitation business was to use the pretence of education to justify the presentation of salacious material. Typically, the nudist camp films which proliferated in the early sixties presented serious, somewhat melodramatic, stories of individuals defending their right to nude recreation in the face of conservative members of their community who are worried that the local nudist camp was a front for some kind of depravity. Narration informed us of the emotional and physical benefits of getting our gear off in a communal setting. But the businessmen who snuck into "art cinemas" on their lunch break to lap up all that fascinating flesh were very unlikely to answer the siren call to nude living. The next Gordon/Friedman collaboration was a self-parody called B-O-I-N-G!!! which dealt with the misadventures of two sleazy filmmakers making a movie called "Nature's Nudnicks".

But, by 1963, audiences were starting to get bored with the nudie cuties. After Friedman saw a performance of Paris's Grand Guignol (a theatre which presented gruesome simulations of dismemberment and disembowelling), he decided that, since people were bored with nude bodies, the only way forward was to start exposing internal organs. He and Lewis made the infamous Blood Feast. A leg came off, a brain was removed and a woman's tongue was ripped out of her mouth, all in blood-drenched close-ups. When the film hit drive-ins audiences went wild. People screamed, fainted and threw up, and then came back for more. In Baltimore a young John Waters peered over the back fence of his local drive-in and saw something that would help to inspire him to become a filmmaker. Friedman and Lewis made two more gore pictures together - Two Thousand Maniacs and Color Me Blood Red - as well as more nudies before going their separate ways. (They would team up again in 2002 to make a sequel to Blood Feast.) One of the last of those original collaborations was a film called Scum of the Earth (1963), which pointed the way to the next stage in Friedman's career. This was one of the first of what were known as "roughies". The roughies were generally shot in black and white and had very melodramatic stories filled with violence, including sexual violence, and general depravity. They usually contained nudity, but often less of it than the cuties, but added sex scenes to the mix. Of course the sex scenes were not very explicit at all, but the overall atmosphere was of something dark and kinky and forbidden.

Friedman was not an auteur. While he sometimes did some directing, he was almost never the credited director on any of his features. He did, however, write or co-write most of the scripts. While he may have produced films by many different directors, you can see Friedman's creative stamp on every film. Friedman's best roughie was called The Defilers (1965). He borrowed the basic plot idea from William Wyler's The Collector (based on the novel by John Fowles) which had just come out. But in Friedman's movie there was more than one collector. It told of a pair of sadistic delinquents who kidnap a girl and subject her to sexual torment. The director was Lee Frost, who would go on to make many notoriously sadistic exploitation pictures. Friedman made a couple more roughies with other directors, but it was a film he made in 1966 which became the blueprint for the type of picture which would be  his specialty for the rest of his career.

The Notorious Daughter of Fanny Hill was a colourful tongue-in-cheek period sex romp directed by Pete Perry. This was the first of a series of sexy spoofs which would take on various established Hollywood genres, including western (Brand of Shame (1968)), science fiction (Space-Thing (1968)), Valley of the Dolls-style showbiz melodrama (Starlet! (1969)), jungle adventure (Trader Hornee (1970)) and the swashbuckler (The Erotic Adventures of Zorro (1972)). He referred to these pictures as "crotch operas" or "crotch hoppers". He found the desperation of the patrons of adult cinemas to see naked flesh kind of ridiculous so he expressed that in the parodic nature of many of his films. Even when he made some softcore films which played it straight, one feels that, for him, it was all one big lark. Irony was never lost on him, such as that of being a Jewish man playing a sadistic Nazi officer in his friend Bob Cresse's Love Camp 7 (1969). And he would also produce the most notorious of all Nazi-sploitation pictures Ilsa, She-Wolf of the S.S. (1975), which was shot by director Don Edmonds on sets left over from Hogan's Heroes.

Of all his films, Friedman's personal favourite was She-Freak (1967) a low rent remake of Tod Browning's Freaks (1932). He loved it best because it was filmed at a carnival. Friedman was a carny first and foremost and his films were just like a carnival ride. The sex romps were never quite as exciting as you hoped they would be. They left you feeling dissatisfied. But there was only one answer for that. To step aboard the next one.

Films like Blood Feast and Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS get a lot of attention on horror fan sites, so I've decided to pay my tribute to the great man by watching his sex comedy films and reviewing them here, beginning with The Adventures of Lucky Pierre and finishing with his first hardcore film 7 into Snowy (1978).

Friedman's autobiography A Youth in Babylon is one of the best books ever written on the exploitation movie business. Unfortunately his promised sequel Kings of Bablylon never made it into print.

Buy Friedman's movies from Something Weird Video :

Boneriffic Burlesque Babes - No. 1 - Poppy Cherry

Poppy Cherry is a Melbourne burlesque dancer who also has a pasty-making business. And she's a movie star having played a character described as "a ‘chuckie doll’ played by a hot brunette with a corset and over-the-knee socks" in the more interesting and entertaining looking movie called Burlesque to come out in 2010. (Forget about that thing with Cher and Christina Aguillera. It looks like shit.)

Poppy's website