Gloria's Oversexed Mind

The glorious end

I just finished with client stuff, and now it's time to finish up my archive-dump on the blog with this random assortment of images that never quite fit into any of my old erotic shows, but were still too interesting to delete. This means I never did any kind of research on them, am not sure of dates or even what's going on in some of these pictures. So I present them to you, as found, mysteries intact.

Some are hot, some are strange, and some -- like this first one -- were just too adorable to throw away. She's holding her cat like it's a human infant! *faint* I love when people do that to their animal babies.

Either these are late 19th century Vaudeville actresses, or they are the scariest damn dommes I've ever seen. Safeword on swordplay!

Half-naked smoking hookers having sex on a fictional Paris Metro platform with a clueless duffer. Uhh. I don't know why this didn't fit into any other shows but it didn't.

I find this nude ukelele player's exaggerated cupid-bow lips slightly disturbing.

But not quite as disturbing as this clown outfit.

Hong Kong movie still (?), ca. 60s. *humming* "I'm in the Moob for Love."

No idea. Couldn't use it but couldn't lose it. Snapped perhaps by someone a facial bandage fetishist or, alternately, one woman's erotic record of her nose-job. No, you're not imagining it, that's a gigantic bandage across her snozz.

Pretty girl and pretty bubbles but as you know, I seldom run images of blow jobs. *taking bow*

A pretty girl, also ca. 1960s, whose breasts seemed worth saving.

Denver memorabilia, demonstrating how sight-seeing there is so exciting that male tourists wouldn't even notice a naked lady. Either that, or it's a subliminal message that Denver's VERY gay friendly.

And that's it, folks. Time to say bye-bye....

Have a fabulous end of the summer and I'll see you in September.

Love and kisses all around,
Gloria

Beauty by Mortensen

This photo is attributed to Mortensen (no time to google him), and dated 1931. His photo subject is SPECTACULAR. Anyone know who this is? Looks a bit like Barbara Stanwyck.

Hello there!

She looks so cheerful for someone crawling on their knees.

Asses: The Show. Act II

Ca. 1960s - 1970s.

Rare vintage 60s magazine. Anyone ever see this one?

Nudist rodeo, ca. 1970s.

Finally, three cute-butted gents, photographed in the 1980s.

Nothing like a little self-heating furry tush.

Wait a sec -- didn't I just see him at a leather conference?

Asses: The Show. Act I

I don't quite know how to explain, even to myself, but I considered doing a whole day of asses some months back. I'm sure I had lots of interesting observations at the time. Probably something about primal nature and reptile brains, or the universal impulse to explore anal eroticism, not to mention the buttocks' sacred place in the world of corporal punishment. But now, I've forgotten what I wanted to say, and there's just a crazy assortment of rear-ends sitting in my archives. It's time to stick some butt in your face. I've got a whole lot of them, so I'll divide this (roughly) chronologically into two blog posts. The full lot will range from the 1890s to the 1980s.

Ca. late 19th century

Ca. 1920s

Hand-tinted, ca. 1930s.

Ca. 1940s - 1950s.

A little behind: the postcard

Obviously, this pun was a source of great merriment to our forebears. This selection ranges from the 1920s to 1940s.

Vintage muscular beauty

A tribute to musclemen and body-builders of yore. Some of the men were known to be gay and some posed for closet-ish muscle magazines (the type that were obviously oriented to gay men yet pretended to be all hetero).  I'm providing the names of all the models if you want to try googling them.  The photos range from the 1940s to the 1980s.

Model: Johnny Pflum.
(When I first saw this, I thought, "OMG! Is that Desi Arnez!?" Alas, no such luck.)

Model: Bob Manners.

Model: Don Meyers

Model: John Skaggs

Amateur photo of gay/muscle beach, ca. 1970s.

John Pruitt is my absolute favorite of all the hunky muscle stars of vintage Colt magazines, for oh so many beautiful reasons. I liked him even better when he grew out the hair on his chest. Pardon my lust, but I just have to show three shots of him.

Model: John Pruitt

Sometimes a great photo

I've had this photo (guessing ca. 1930s) for months now. Some days I think I should pop it into "recycle" along with the other stuff I ultimately reject for the blog. But I never have. I don't know what it is about this photo exactly but it charms me. Perhaps it's the ragged swimwear, suggesting to me that they were poor boys, perhaps factory workers on a precious beach holiday. Even the little holes in their clothes seem cute to me.  It reminds me of childhood trips to the beach with my father, who worked in sweat shops his whole life and for whom such hours of innocent fun were times he lived for. Maybe it's the awkwardness of these two, hands clasped behind their back, looking like they're unaccustomed to having their photo taken. Maybe it's the contrast in their body-types: the muscular beanpole and his pale, wide-shouldered pal whose hair's turned to fluff from the ocean spray, both smiling so shyly. Whatever it is, I have loved these two men for long enough, I guess, so it's time to blog them and move on.

Self-Suckage: kids, don't try this at home

It's amazing what a girl can find researching vintage gay pornography. This shot was definitely a precursor to Ron Jeremy's infamous, identical feat of self-suckage.

And now a word of sexological advice to any young bucks thinking of trying this out themselves and thus sparing themselves the cost of a real date: please don't. The art of male self-suckage requires three things: first, a modest stature so that the actual distance between mouth and penis is shorter than average; a larger-than-average penis for your frame; and, finally, a lot of practice stretching out your spine to achieve this yogic level of flexibility. If you fit the first two criteria and MUST TRY THIS, then start slowly, preferably taking some yoga classes but at least reading up on safe ways to stretch and bend your spine. Build up to it centimeter by centimeter. Whatever you do, don't suddenly decide to give this a whirl and push your body to do something it literally cannot. You will only end up messing up your back, possibly permanently, and have nothing more to show for it than an embarrassing explanation to future partners when they ask why you don't have the back strength for penetrative sex. Seriously. Take it from a sex therapist who has seen and heard it all.

Yours for a sexually healthier world....G.

Blonde Pin-Up Art

Some gorgeous finds, these range from the 1910's to 1954.

Naughty 30s card, joking about adultery. (Text reads: "Let's have some excitement - let's call up my husband.")

Blondes in bondage

The above were all from vintage magazines, but this tampon fetish image was an amateur photo, which makes it especially interesting and rare.

And finally, this great campy movie poster...

Do blondes have more fun?

She seems to think so.

And herewith, a three-part tribute to a beauty type I've never featured before, fair-haired ladies who love to show off their naked charms. These all range from the 1940s to the 1970s.

Hmm...something tells me she is not a natural blonde.

A tasty 27 hours till I go

Vacation, my birthday and its annual rush of special pampering all start *gazing at clock* in exactly 27 hours. And may I say...OH IT IS GOOD TO BE QUEEN. Oh yes it is.

Anyway, among the many things I'll be doing over vacation is migrating everything from this laptop to the shiny new laptop that's been sitting patiently in its box for months. But instead of transferring my erotic art directory, this gives me a good excuse to share all the stuff that's been waiting for the right moment to appear here. That moment is now, so check back for the many many sexy TASTY treats I'll be sharing from now until the clock strikes HAPPY DAY.

She's tasty, isn't she?

More about the Wodaabe: sex and beauty

Some further glimpses into the psychosexual lives of the endlessly fascinating Wodaabe.

Although it is a patriarchal culture, women have their own set of sexual freedoms and choices, including the freedom to choose their husbands-to-be at the Gerewol ceremony, the right to have pre-marital sex and also extra-marital sex, depending on the circumstances.

A young woman flirting with her two beaux.

Women attending the Gerewol.

Some details of Wodaabe customs:

The Wodaabe are sexually liberal; unmarried girls may have sex whenever and with whomever they wish.

The Wodaabe practice polygamy. The first marriage is typically arranged among members of the same lineage by parents when the couple are infants (called koogal); later additional "love marriages" (teegal) are also possible, when a woman leaves her husband and joins another one. A bride stays with her husband until she becomes pregnant after which she returns to her mother's home, where she will remain for the next three to four years. She will deliver the baby at her mother's home and then she becomes a boofeydo which literally means, "someone who has committed an error."

Source:
Wikipedia.

* During daylight hours, a man cannot hold his wife’s hand in public, call her by name, or speak intimately to her.
* To ensure a child's future beauty, a mother will mold the skin and bones of her infant by pressing the nose, or stretching the limbs to make her child more attractive.
* young women may sleep with 2 men (at the same time) before she’s married.
* Keep clothes on during sex.
* Men compete for women by dancing
* Because physical beauty is so important to the Wodaabe, a husband who isn’t particularly handsome will allow his wife to sleep with a handsome man so that she will bear a handsome child.

Source:
Wodaabe women have beauty traditions of their own.

Want more images and information about the Wodaabe? I strongly recommend the film by Herzog (my favorite director in the known universe). Sadly, it's only available in VHS format:

Recommended reading.

Male sexual beauty, as celebrated by the Wodaabe

In response to a show I ran last week about the lovely Ouled Nail of Algeria, a FaceBook friend asked where are the men who learn to look beautiful for women? This one's for you, George.

Deep in the heart of Africa, the Wodaabe tribe celebrate physical beauty as a social good unto itself. The Wodaabe are a nomadic people, whose migration patterns stretch across Nigeria, Cameroon and the Central African Republic. I first learned about them in Werner Herzog's spectacular documentary, Herdsmen of the Sun

Beauty is at the heart of Wodaabe culture and numerous complex rituals have evolved from the tribal emphasis on aesthetics. The most famous of these is the Gerewol: a beauty festival in which men are the contestants and marriage-eligible girls select the most beautiful men for their husbands. I'll do a follow-up post with lots of interesting info, but nothing can have a fraction of the impact of simply looking at these magnificent people.

Young man preparing for Gerewol

Three beauty contestants, following the customary ritual of rolling their eyes to show the whites, with the goal of getting women to notice them.

Wodaabe men have to try hard to draw attention as the competition is fierce! So many beautiful men in their most elaborate make-up and dress.
A selection of close-ups.

Goodbye Jack, we'll miss you

Mitch just emailed me the very sad news that the well-known, widely respected (and somewhat infamous) leather community leader Jack McGeorge died today of complications from heart surgery. Jack was a "steaming straight ahead" kind of guy, always filled with ideas and projects and ambitions. He had twice the energy of men half his age. I knew Jack fairly well and always made time to catch up with his doings at various events over the years. We had dinner together just a few months ago at Leather Leadership, where we discussed his many projects and future directions for the BDSM community. I grieve to see his life cut so tragically short and extend profound sympathies to his friends, family and everyone who loved this unique man.

Harvey John "Jack" McGeorge (born 1949-died August 18, 2009) was a retired Marine and was a munitions analyst for the U.N. Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission (UNMOVIC). Over Thanksgiving weekend, 2002, the Washington Post ran an article revealing that McGeorge was also a leader in the Washington, DC BDSM community. He is a founder of Black Rose and an officer of the Leather Leadership Conference.

Jack McGeorge - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

World culture

Where would you be most likely to meet this magnificent individual?

(A) At Burning Man, where, over some ganja, he describes his artistic process and introduces you to his girlfriend Kimberly.

(B) At a body mod convention somewhere in San Francisco, where he gave the class on stretching out earlobes and invited you to his workshop on body-painting.

(C) In the Ethiopian desert where, as a Surma warrior, he would kill you if he felt threatened?

Pretty vintage misses in the flesh

Three sweetly simple images of vintage beauties. Interesting how much our social aesthetic has changed since these were shot and how hard it is to remember that small-breasted women were once considered a perfect body-type.

I love these gentle lesbians....

And this happy dancer.

And this charmer with the tiny smirk.

Glimpses of the Old Guard

Found photos. The first was dated ca. 1960s. I'm guessing the second was late 60s or early 70s.

All I want for my birthday

Come this time of the year, some lovable individuals will send me a bunch of email or cards, or even surprise gifts. This year, I have a special request of you: instead of sending me a card or a present, please consider one of these options instead.  It would make me happier.

1. Follow this free link to the animal rescue site and click the purple button to donate food to a dog in need. Costs nothing but a few seconds of your time. If you can return for a few days and click some more, even better.

2. Donate to your favorite charity. You can do it in my name or you can leave me out of it, and do it privately and then email me to let me know.

3. Donate to my favorite BDSM charity, the Leather Archives and Museum.  While you're there, please consider becoming a member.  They need and deserve our support.

4. You all know I'm a dog-o-maniac. Perhaps the most personally meaningful gift you could give me would be to support efforts to rescue abandoned dogs and cats (and other pets and farm animals too).  Donate your time to a local group. Donate your money to a national one.  Or consider buying some of the adorable merchandise offered by The Animal Rescue Site. I am quite enamored of their LARGER THAN LIFE t-shirts (kittie themes also available), one of many awesome gifts you can get there.

Buy it now

Whatever you do, be sure to let me know (here or in email) so I can say thanks!

Slowing to a promenade

This week may be a bit spotty on the blog, as I'm gearing up (or, rather down), to a two-week vacation, beginning this Thursday, August 20th, and ending whenever the 2 weeks are up, more or less ;) You see how carefully I plan these things.

To answer the question everyone asks: I am not GOING anywhere. Not physically. The older I get, the less my vacations are about outward journeys. I've traveled a lot in my life. I've lived in too many different places. This is the first and only home I've ever really known. It's an amazing feeling just to BASK in that reality. To meditate and stare into space. To sit on one of the decks in the nude and watch the dogs chase skinks. To sip wine in the gazebo while squirrels catapult around the tree canopy. To sprawl on my sofa, book-ended by warm little beasties, and watch a movie. Actually WATCH it -- not catch glimpses between emails and other work. Most of all, I'm planning some literary self-pleasures. Stand back. This could mean poetry.

As I did at summer's start, I'm going to be OFF of email and the blog. On the other hand, I think I may allow myself one giant Internet indulgence and hang out more on FaceBook. I have come to totally love FaceBook. How else in the world could I keep in touch with all my long-distance relatives, long-lost childhood friends, long-neglected writer friends, ex-lovers, former clients, current clients, new friends, and hundreds of SM friends all in one gigantic ecstatic SWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP?! My biggest problem is that I barely have time to keep up with my work life, which makes it hard to catch up with friends I haven't talked to in 20, 30 and even 40 years (!). (By the way, everyone who reads this blog is welcome to friend me on Facebook. I add lots of content there that never appears here.)

Anyway, the blog will merrily chug along, albeit it at a more vacation-esque pace, until Wednesday night. Then I'm outta here. The 20th is my birthday, a good friend is coming for the weekend on the 21st, and I'm not planning to return to earth until the first week of September.

Anyone who wants to wish me or gift me a happy this year, please pay attention to the next blog I'm posting for the best and only gifts I'd like this year.

Finally: note to clients -- everyone's been told but remember: if you really need me you know how to get me. Don't hesitate to call or write if you're in crisis. I won't be answering mail but I will check in regularly in case any emergencies crop up.

Four cards, four countries: vintage sex workers

As you may have surmised, I'm using the term sex worker broadly, to cover a host of women over time who have profited either by displaying their bodies or providing sexual services more directly to men. In other words: the strippers, exotic dancers, escorts and prostitutes of the late 19th and early 20th century. I'm finishing today's show with four images of sex-workers from various other foreign countries. Looking at the first three feels like an experiment in sexual anthropology.

From this thin, shy-looking woman from India.

To the full-bodied, self-confident aura of this lady from Trinidad.

And then to this positively scary-looking working girl from Singapore. Eep.

My last image of the day is what early 20th century French people -- probably during an Egyptian Revival frenzy, when everything Egypt was cool -- thought a harem scene looked like. They were not wrong: only the slaves were seldom white, the buyers almost never white, and the Arab pimp was not a Jewish guy in a costume. Just saying. But it does make a pretty picture.

The Ouled-Nail of Algeria

Many breath-takingly erotic vintage images have been taken of the Ouled-Nail of Algeria, a tribe where some women -- from an early age -- were trained in both the arts of belly-dancing and giving sexual pleasure.  Credited with introducing the art of belly-dancing, these interesting women's' full (street) costumes were astonishingly sumptuous and layered affairs.

At home and work, one might say they were a tad more casual.

Vintage views of North Africa

Harem girls, sex-workers and dancers, oh my. This first one is a humorous card about negotiating the price for sex in Tunisia.

A similar theme but much more romantic card from Morocco.

Moroccan erotic beauties of the day.

Glimpses of vintage Egyptian sex-workers

First, a neat little document (illegible to me, alas) I found on ebay, being sold as an antique license to operate a brothel in Egypt.

It's very difficult to know with vintage photos whether the women freely consented to be photographed, whether they felt coerced or otherwise obligated to pose, or even whether they were not even sex-workers but rather women in revealing native costumes. Any guesses on these? The first one is easy, since the woman is billed as a harem slave.

No idea if this is a rich lady being fanned by her hand-maiden or a rich whore being fanned by her hand-maiden, or neither or both :)  Pretty, though.

From a long line of postcards of "jeune filles" (French for "young girls") the term was also used as a euphemism for women whose charms could be bought.

I'm guessing she was a servant in traditional dress but, just as likely, she may have been a dancer or prostitute who agreed to pose with a jug.

Three Views of Vintage Japanese Brothels

Photo postcard of pre-war brothel in Nagasaki.

Two postcards which offer a view into the class structure of brothel life in Yoshiwara. First, the elegant geishas dancing and serving in a first-class house.

Next the fate of lower class sex-workers, caged like chickens at a street market, while a street-hawker tries to sell them to passers-by.

Running Harem Scarem

Whee...the day galloped away from me, but I'm finally reining it in and will shortly be showing off some of those groovy vintage foreign sex-worker/harem slave/prostitution photos I promised earlier this week.

To put you in the mood, take a peek at my art show on harems from two years ago. Then get ready for a ream of fascinating photos of foreign sex-workers of yore.

A random truncated dialectic on "love and marriage"

Remember the old song whose lyrics go "love and marriage, love and marriage, go together like a horse and carriage. Let me tell you brother: you can't have one without the other"?

As I involuntarily hummed it to myself today (you know those moments when a song you forgot you knew suddenly burbles from your lips?)....it suddenly occurred to me that wtf, that makes no sense of all. Of course you can have a horse without a carriage. We have horses all around us in farm country. They don't need no stinking carriages. And when I think of the many horses I've seen who were tied to carriages, I can't forget how weary and pissed off they looked.

Maybe the songwriter was subconsciously commenting on his own marital woes. That we take those lines as "common wisdom" only goes to show how seldom we really think carefully about what other people have to say about love or marriage.

Random thought

SM is the gift that just keeps on giving.

Who knows it feels it Ja!

Wooden ships on the water very free

If I had to pick only one vintage erotic image that gets under my skin, I'd pick this. It's so romantic to me. The soft, lovely woman sitting on the shore in her evanescent dress, the wild mystery of the dark waves behind her, and those ships beckoning in the distance. It makes me want to strip down and swim out to sea. Not to board a ship. Just to feel even more alive.