Monday, August 8, 2011




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In London in the 1960s, pornography was a man’s world.

It - stag films and blue movies - was viewed by men, written by men, directed by men and filmed by men. If they hadn’t needed actresses to play a part on camera, it would probably have been made by men as well.

And then a woman came along, and changed that world completely.

This is her story.

Watching as the action unfolded, and calling “cut” a lot more than I liked, so I could rearrange the cast in a few new positions, I realized immediately that for all her bearing and style, Carol was not a classy lover. What she was, was enthusiastic, especially when she was sucking a cock. I think women, whether they admit or not, have an instinctive understanding of the visual beauty of that act, even in the privacy of their own darkened bedroom.

Put a camera on them, and the promise of an audience, and they blossom beyond your imagination, and that’s what Carol did. One moment she was clumsy, jockeying for a comfortable position with two admittedly clumsy oafs, and the next? Cleopatra, the Queen of Sheba, all the great beauties whose names ring down through history. They may not look too special in portrait form, but if you could capture them with a cock in their mouth, then you’d know why the poets adored them.

“Okay Carol, keep doing that… Ted, shift a little to the left please…” – while she sucked one guy, the other was fucking her, and his fat, hairy arse kept getting in the way. I moved in closer, focusing on her face, but her whole face this time, not just the lips and shaft, and thank goodness I did. Because without so much as a grunt of warning, Barry came and Carol came into her own.

Back during the filming of Satan’s Children, I remembered how Sally took Marty’s load with bulging eyes and a look of such shock-surprise-triumph that you thought she’d just been given all her Christmas presents at once. Carol added birthdays, Valentines and an engagement ring to the pile. Her eyes almost popped out of her head, her mouth opened slightly to relive the flood, and then she tore into the spunk storm, a starving woman let loose in a burger bar. It was magnificent to watch, magnificent to film, and when I shouted “cut” my own voice was a barely audible squeak. That’s how magnificent it was.

REVIEW (from the Vintage Erotica blog)
NIGHTSPOT: One of the most memorable of all British stags is 1960s British threesome Nightspot, an exuberant 2m 1f threesome that peaks midway through when one of the male participants fails to warn his fellatrix of his imminent ejaculation. And what a surprise that turns out to be.

Nightspot opens with two young men entering what is clearly a classy nightclub, and inviting the buxom hostess to join them for drinks. Of course things rapidly progress from there and, at the suggestion of one of the visitors, they retire to a conveniently located bedroom. One of the men is inside her within moments of their clothes coming off; his buddy, however, is treated to a long and evidently exquisite blowjob… so exquisite that, though the camera seems more intrigued by the below the belt action, it’s up top where things are really cooking. And where he lets go without a word.

A portrait of grace and harmonic beauty beforehand, the hostess suddenly pauses for a split second, frozen in mid-movement. Her eyes bulge comically in surprise, and then she reels around as sperm cascades out of her mouth. Words are exchanged; she is clearly requesting some warning for next time. But she obviously doesn’t get it because, as the movie approaches its climax, an almost identical scene is played out with the other male lead, and the cameraman, at least, has learned his lesson. His lens has barely left her lips since the last time. And she’s okay as well - this time, she doesn’t complain in the slightest.

(thanks to my friends at Vintage Erotica for permission to reprint this). Nightspot can be found on Classic Stags Volume 287

for more reading, downloads, pictures and more, please visit the Vintage Erotica Forum

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