The Clit-erion Collection - Voodoo Lust - the Possession (1989)

There are not, so far as I’m aware, too many movies set specifically on the island of Haiti in 1936. And even fewer of these demand a XXX billing. But Voodoo Lust - The Possession is one of those films that more than compensates for the lack of competition, by virtue of being so much fun that nobody else could even touch it.

Released in 1989, Voodoo Lust was the work of Peter Davy, at the very dawn of his career - Dreams In The Forbidden Zone was his only major work beforehand. Yet in terms of cinematography, it has a quality that modern directors would do well to emulate, a not-quite-soft focus sheen that transforms every set into a sensual palace, and then transports the cast in a similar direction. Indeed, if it were not for hairstyles that reduce at least half of the cast into body doubles for either Stevie Nicks or one of Kajagoogoo (Peter North, I’m talking about you), it would be difficult to fault any aspect of the production, adult fare or otherwise.

Scenes blend together seamlessly; native drumming and wild, evil laughter punctuate the mounting frenzy; and if you need any other aural stimulation, download Dr John’s “Walk On Gilded Splinters” and play it on a 90 minute loop. It fits the film like your favorite pants.

The plot is simple. Anthropologist Dr Robert (the leonine Jon Martin) has the hots for ace student Meg (Rachel Ryan), and in the guise of guiding her towards a doctorate thesis on voodoo, spends his time reading aloud from a diary that his father kept of a visit to Haiti in the 1930s. A visit that brought him into the clutches of the Grand Mambo, Dutches Grande (the magnificent Nina de Ponca) and her consort, the seemingly simple King Gregory (Ray Victory). Practitioners, of course, of a breed of voodoo that has no interest at all in chicken bones and blood. not when there's cocks and pussies, sucking and fucking, and orgasms-a-go-go to strive for.

Flashbacks to the hot bodied torments to which his father was subjected (OMG she's sucking his cock! How evil!) are then combined with present-day sequences in which Meg’s boyfriend Roger (North) courts her disapproval with his philandering ways, while the Grand Mambo’s grand daughter, the Dutches Petite (de Poncia again) seduces the Doctor with her own pledge that he will get the girl of his dreams.


Okay, so maybe it’s not that simple. What is undeniable, however, is the sheer strength of the sex scenes because... well, I wouldn’t swear to it. But I seriously doubt that they were scripted, and they certainly weren’t choreographed in the manner that modern directors seem to feel is so crucial. More than one scene is given whole new emphasis by one or other character’s natural responses to whatever’s going on, most notably Kassi Nova’s giggled whispers during her scene with the cheating Roger.

There is also a magnificent sequence, staged as an aside to the main plot, where a gadabout wastrel named Carl Pelletier (played by Marc Wallice) seduces the wealthy young Madame Dumont (Viper), and brings the Mambo’s wrath down upon himself in the process. Viper’s transformation from an absolute shrinking virgin when Pelletier first gets her alone, into a cock hungry vixen who downs his cum in one at the end of the scene, is played perfectly, no matter how unbelievable its reality might (and I stress, might) seem; and from there into a calculating bitch with her own temporary voodoo powers. She is phenomenal throughout, and in this scene is upstaged only by the luscious de Ponca, as she caresses and kisses a very live snake.

And again, we return to the sheer honesty of the scenes here, and remember what the XXX world was like before someone, somewhere, decided that what we really want to watch is a couple of mechanoids going through the motions, and doing exactly the same things to one another as another couple did in the film you watched last week. And a third pair will pull off in the movie you’ve planned for tomorrow night.

Avoid this movie like the plague, I say, if you want to see orifices filled with bitter spit, and cocksuckers choking on a throat full of bile. There’s no gagging or vomit, and no gaping assholes - in fact, the one scene of anal, a skillful DP, is one of the most beautiful sequences in the whole movie, and that despite there being a slew of lengthy blowjobs (Nova and North, Viper and Wallace, and any time de Ponca goes near an erection) that blow most other celluloid suckings out of the room altogether.


So that’s Voodoo Lust - which is not simply the best porn movie I’ve ever seen set in Haiti in 1936; it’s in my own Top Ten of the best XXX’s ever. And that was before Peter North got turned into rabbit. And no, not one of the battery-operated ones, either.

The Clit-erion Collection - Ghost Town (1996)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
Considering that the American movie industry was more or less built around the mythos of the Wild West, it is surprising how few porn movies look westwards for inspiration - and how fewer still have emerged with their dignity even half as erect as the cocks on display. We think fondly of such Seventies fare as Ramrodder and A Dirty Western, fine examples of the genre's early need to portray sex as rape and little more, and Jamie Gillis' Showdown" was as twisted as any of his post-Misty Beethoven standards. Yet even the current parody boom has yet to look in westward direction... so before you all float off in a This Ain’t Gunsmoke-shaped reverie, or start imagining A Fistful Of Titties, spare a thought for Ghost Town, a 1996 Lori Michaels effort that at least tried to catch a cowpoke-shaped wave.

The plot itself is threadbare but captivating; Michaels and her geeky boyfriend (a painfully over-acting Bobby Vitale) are driving through the desert when the radiator blows. They ease the car into a deserted huddle of semi-derelict buildings, and Michaels is just kicking off the first of the bad-tempered rants that are her main contribution to the dialogue when an old timer emerges from one of the shacks, to warn them they need to get out of Dodge.

Of course they ignore him, instead bedding down for the night in one of the buildings... and that’s when things start to happen.

Okay, this is not a great movie. The costuming is fine, the sets are good, the sex is powerful. But the scenes simply drift without any real forethought and writer/director Toni English clearly had more fun fashioning the old timer’s lines than she did any other aspect of the movie. Indeed, the old guy doesn’t simply emerge as the movie’s most memorable character, he also has lines and timing that would put any established comedians to shame - which is a strange recommendation for a porn film, but it’s one that’s worth following up on regardless.

Peter North, billed as one of the movie’s stars, is little more than a vignette player, shoehorned into the action to tempt Michaels into staying in town, but not exactly offering one of his most virtuoso performances, and the other name players... Sahara Sands, Melissa Hill, Christi Lake... are under-used too, showgirls who put on a period show, but only really shine when they are converting Michaels from a bad-tempered stranded motorist into the star of a lesbian munch-fest.

And yet... there is something strangely lovable about this movie. Michaels, in one of her first starring roles, is always watchable, and her scene with North allows her to pull some very hot tricks out of the box. But more than that, Ghost Town appeals not for what it turned out to be, but for what it could have been. Like I said, the sets are great, and the action that takes place around the action, with the hoary old cowboys drinking and cussing and gambling, is a constant reminder of what a movie like this should be built upon.

So you forgive its faults for exactly the same reasons as you forgive those of the legion mainstream cowboy clunkers that turn up on late night television. Because it’s not just the American movie industry that was built on westerns. Modern America was as well, and like it or not, the tumbleweed, stetsons and six-shooting sheriffs are a part of our DNA. And Ghost Town is a red-blooded part of that.

The Neighborhood Slut

THE NEIGHBORHOOD SLUT
Be honest, girls, you’ve always wanted to be her, haven’t you?

I just sucked your boyfriend's cock
Well, he said you never did it
Every time that he got fresh
You'd just start to fidget
And then make weak excuses
It was time that you went home
And leave the poor guy sitting there
Alone with his fat bone

So I waited late one evening
Till I knew that you'd gone home
Then I sat down on his stoop
And called his mobile phone
He answered, so I asked him
If he could come out to play
You know he could have just said no
But I knew what he'd say

He came downstairs, unlocked the door
I pulled him to one side
Kissed him one time on the mouth
Then let my left hand slide
Down his chest, down to the cock
The cock you've never touched
To stroke and coax that burning flesh
The flesh you've never sucked

Then I knelt and put him in my mouth
I swallowed him so deep
I felt his knees grow weak, I felt
Him swaying on his feet
As I rammed my mouth down his full length
Touched his stomach with my face
And clutched hard at his hips and butt
While he fucked me, and his pace

Grew faster, harder, and I felt
His cock continue growing
I barely had him two minutes
Before he started blowing
I felt it splash on tongues and gum
My spit smeared it so thick
To bring new flavor, slick and sweet
To the full length of his prick

I swallowed hard and still he came
It dribbled down my chin
I held him firm against me
So that every drop stayed in
I suckled as he softened
I drank down that thick river
I caressed his balls with finger tips
I held him as he shivered

So I sucked off your boyfriend
And I'd do it all again
If you don't want it, you only have
Your stupid self to blame
Except next time, because I know
There's no way that you'd do it
I'll have him lick my pussy too
After he has screwed it

from The First Time & 59 Other Magical Minutes - an anthology of verse by Jenny Swallows
KINDLE EDITION buy it here
NOOK EDITION buy it here

Uncut and scrumptious

from What I Did On My Summer Vacation
KINDLE EDITION buy here

NOOK EDITION buy here

Charles Dickens was frowning from his painted perch above the fireplace. Little Nell was gazing down with wide, frightened eyes from an antique print on one wall; sundry souls from “Pickwick Papers” were scampering around in their frames on the other. And I was lying on a four-poster bed, in a four star English hotel, holding the first uncut penis I had ever seen.

I hadn’t noticed it at first… the fact that it was uncut, that is. After all, we’d already made love once that afternoon, and it didn’t feel any different to any other cock I’d had inside me. And when Martin stepped… or, should that be leaped… out of his trousers once we got up to my room, his erection was so full that I really didn’t feel the need to study it.

It was only as he moved up my body, his face glistening with pussy juice and my heart still hammering from the orgasm he sent shimmering through my body; only as I reached between his legs to pull him up further; as I smiled at his galloping return to semi-stiffness, that I noticed… what? A little extra “give” in the way it felt? A little more pliability to its thickness? Or the thin flap of skin that clung stubbornly to the fat purple helmet, a network of tiny veins dark against its opaque sheen?

I held him in one hand, gently massaging his shaft, while I wondered how to phrase my next question. In the end, the silence and stillness just felt embarrassing. “Okay, I’m sorry, but… is it meant to do that?”

Martin glanced down with a little more panic in his eyes than he realized. “Do what?”

“Um, I’ve never seen…” I indicated the bridge of skin. “What is it?”

“My foreskin?” He sounded confused for a moment. And then… “Is that true about American guys, then? That they’re all circumcised?”

“Well, I don’t know about all of them, but most, I think….”

“Not over here, luv. We like to keep our men intact. After all, you never know when you’re going to wake up in a blackberry bush.”

Eh? I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that (I figured it out later… don’t bother asking). “But does it stay like that?” Again I touched the curious flap, and then let out a little “oh” as it slowly retracted onto his shaft. “Just gets a bit sticky, I guess,” he concluded, and I stroked some more, watching in fascination as a thick wave of skin coiled up with my fist, to tap the rim of his helmet.

I looked up at him; he was watching me curiously. “It’s alright, isn’t it? You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ve just never seen one before”: and then, to shatter the growing awareness that I was treating him like a laboratory specimen, I leaned my head forward and let my mouth slip over his helmet. He sighed and I felt an inexplicable sense of relief. Well, at least that’s the same.

His foreskin continued to fascinate me. His prick was thick, his helmet thicker. But when I rolled that extra layer of skin up over it, it became thicker still, so that my lips strained to engulf it. The taste changed, too; sharp and salty when I pulled his skin back, markedly less so as I drew it forward. I loved the contrast, loved the sensation of the flesh folding back against my lips, then rudely bumping them on its way forward… back and forth, back and forth….

The Deep Throat Librarian

THE DEEP THROAT LIBRARIAN

The ping of new e-mail pulled me away from my spreadsheet, and I glanced across the office to where Terry was sitting. He had his back to me, but obviously he’d had enough of second quarter budget projections too. I opened the mail - “a present for you” - and clicked to download the attachment. I turned back to my work while my Iphone did its duty, then gasped when I turned back to look.

It was a cock.

I looked again at Terry; still facing away, so I hit reply and a smiley face. “Thank you! I love presents.”

I looked back at the photo. Even on that tiny screen it was an impressive specimen, semi hard and angled down, but clearly more than a handful. Or a mouthful come to that. I wondered whose it was; in all the years I’ve known Terry, he has never struck me as the kind of guy who’d have pictures of his own penis stored away on his phone - but, there again, how would I know? And if it wasn’t his, then where did he get it? He wasn’t the sort of guy who Googled “semi soft cock photos,” either.

Ping.

Another, and I opened it quickly, just glancing at the message as I waited for the pic. A frontal shot this time, to show off the girth. A well-rounded shaft, a thick meaty head, and again just on the verge of a full scale erection which... and I don’t know hoe he knew this, either... is exactly the way I like them. To start with, anyway.

My fingers were poised over the keypad. Another thank you seemed redundant, and “nice’ just felt silly. But I couldn’t think of anything witty to write, so I repeated the smiley, hit “send” and then waited.

Ping.

No attachment this time, just a question. “Do you want to go get a bite?”

OMG yes. Suddenly it didn’t seem such a bad idea, agreeing to work on MLK day, getting a jump on the next few week’s schedule while not having to deal with the usual interruptions. No ringing phones, no gabbing co-workers, no unforeseen crises exploding out of nowhere. No members of the public asking dumb questions. Just me and Terry - and two photos of his cock.

I put my computer to sleep, grabbed my purse and crossed the library, to where Terry stood waiting by the security door. “Starbucks or...” he named the little sandwich bar that nestled beside the bus station; it was a longer walk but what the hell, it’s not as if anyone would be timing our break. I fell in step beside him, and waited...

... for him to make a move.

... to say a word.

... to make any sound at all.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Thanks for my present.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He laughed and his hand touched my arm for a moment; he withdrew it, so I threaded my arm through his. “It was lovely.” And then, a short silence later, “maybe we should hit Starbucks. Grab some pastries and coffee, then back to the library. Enjoy the silence while we can.”

So there we were, the place to ourselves, coffee and pastries spread out beneath the “no refreshments” sign, and this thing just hanging unspoken between us, and my mind in absolute turmoil now. All manner of unanswered questions were flying, including the one that was really holding me back. What if he’d sent them by mistake? What if he’d meant to send me something else entirely, a photo of a kitten perhaps, or a blogpost that had made him smile, and clicked the wrong image instead? And what if he didn’t realize he’d done that?

Or, even worse... what if he did?

I opened my purse and took out my phone, checked for fresh messages then punched up my photographs. I loved the way it hung so straight - curves and angles are fine, of course, but there’s something so neat about symmetrical cocks. His balls were well shaped as well, not hanging too low or looking too loose, just tight and... stop this now!

I looked up and he was watching me. “Anything good?”

“I think so. Come here, tell me what you think of this?”

He rose, crossed the rug and settled on the arm of my chair. His arm rested across the top, brushing my shoulders and neck. “Yeah, about that....” His voice seemed uncertain. At last, a reaction!

I was right, sort of. The first one was a mistake, which he only realized when he got my reply. The second one - well, that was in response to my reply, and there would have been a third one but “I lost my nerve.” He laughed and I smiled up at him.

“Well, let’s see it, then.”

He pulled his own phone out his pocket, punched a few buttons, and then handed it to me. Same cock for sure, but... oh my, what a difference a few moments make. Standing out now, standing proud, and what I’d thought was a handful was now two at least, with a thickness to match as well. I hit the arrow key, scrolled forward through the gallery. Longer still, harder yet... thicker too. I could feel my mouth watering, and my pussy too, and the arm on my shoulders had drifted a little, a hand on my arm, a soft, gentle squeeze.

Half a dozen photographs, and each one a little different. The first spot of pre-cum reflecting the flash. The veins growing thicker, the balls getting tighter. It has never failed to amaze me, how many little changes a cock goes through even when it’s already erect. I reached the last one, and passed the phone back.

“When did you take them?”

“One night when I was drunk. Well, watching porn and drunk.”

“Why didn’t you take any more?”

He laughed. “Why do you think?” and I giggled. “Shame. That was the one I most wanted to see.” A good cumshot photograph can keep me smiling for days. And then, “maybe we should take one now.”

The hand squeezed my arm, harder than I was expecting. I took that as a yes, and i took his phone as well. He’d missed the moment once, I was not going to let that happen again.

He glanced around. “Right here?”

“Why not? It’s not as if anyone’s going to come walking in.” The window blinds were tightly closed, and I’d switched off the security cameras when we came in this morning. I rose from my seat, kissed him hard on the mouth, then nudged him to sit there himself. “Now, let’s see what we have here.”

I didn’t unbuckle him right away. I wanted to, more than anything else. But I also wanted to draw out the moment, to run my hands across his body, under his jacket and shirt to his flesh, buttonholes stretching as I teased his nipples, then undoing them all as I bared his chest.

Lightly haired, tightly muscled. I licked his skin, nipping at hairs, circled one nipple with the tip of my tongue, then dragged the wet flat across that little bud. He gasped as my breath cooled the dampness, and I continued to lap, tasting his chest, his abdomen, down... down... and now I undid him because I could see it was time, his pants tight and tented and my wrist brushed the tip. Terry groaned, the tent pole twitched and I leaned into to close my mouth over him, through the fabric of his light gray slacks.

I wished I’d thought to wear lipstick this morning; that would be a mark to savor, and an interesting one for him to explain away as well. The old song flashed through my mind... “lipstick on your pants crotch, told a tale on you-oo.” I filed it away for future mischief, and continued to nuzzle the end of his cock, my hand bunching the fabric of his pants at the base until his dick rose tightly shrouded and I closed my mouth around it.

The photos didn’t lie. He was huge. Thick. Fat. I released him, and now I jerked down his pants, grasped at bare flesh, stretching it back. His helmet thrust skywards and my tongue teased behind it, wondering why in a world that has either abbreviated or created fresh slang for every possible piece of genitalia, the frenulum remains untouched and unloved. “I want to suck your frenulum.” Yeah, that sounds really sexy.

Terry let out a sibilant sigh and I shifted a little, raising his shaft up and sweeping it with long, lazy licks, my saliva soaking the skin as I slipped from base to tip, from side to side. Pause and my teeth would gently close, pressing against skin and tasting his skin as his cock strained even harder and I gnawed my way up, pushing my lips against the eye, suckling pre-cum as it pooled there.

He was too big to suck; I could work my mouth halfway down the crown, but not even a jaw that lives to give head could stretch to accommodate Terry’s whole cock. So I took what I was given, working my mouth on all it could take, slipping across his thick, soaking helmet and it slid back, almost liquid, in the warmth of my mouth. My hand was on his shaft, jerking him; the other dropped to unbutton my blouse. I eased one breast out from under my bra and, resting my jaw for a few precious moments, I traced his prick round my own rigid nipple.

Terry’s hand was on mine, guiding his cock head; he pressed and my nipple pushed back against him, and when he moved away a thin string of pre-cum still held us together. I moved down a little, my breast against his balls, and now he was holding me, guiding my nipple, tracing it round and round his sac as my mouth closed again on that glorious cock, stretched open... then bump... and I had him inside me.


It was so easy! He simply slipped in and kept on slipping, his saliva-greased cock like silk between my welcoming lips, my teeth scraping lightly on the shaft as it passed, and I felt the sweet tap of his cock in my throat; I raised myself slightly and inclined my neck, and there was no show of resistance until my nose grazed his abdomen.

My free hand traced his ball bag and pushed it to my lip, folding fresh flesh beneath it for a moment, as I breathed through my nose and held him there frozen, devouring his cock from end to deep end.

Slowly I released him, began paying out the meat, sliding my mouth up that fabulous shaft, till the crown bumped my teeth and I paused for a second. Then down again, then up again, faster and faster and his hands on my head, pushing me down even harder at last as he suddenly cried out


my head, as he suddenly cried out “oh fuck!”

And now I could suck him, now I face-fucked him - and as he started bucking, I so want his cum. I want him to shoot his whole load in my mouth, I want to drink him, to swallow him whole, to feel his thick juice as it blasts down my throat.

But I had a job to do, and I did it; as he cried out “I’m cumming,” I whipped my head back, the phone at the ready and I just started clicking, picture after picture as cum geysered from his cock, and I was jerking him faster till the spray at last slowed... and then I popped him back in my mouth, sucking the last of his cum from his cock, draining his balls as he softened inside me.

Then I handed him his camera as I buttoned up my blouse; pulled a tissue from my purse to mop mess off the furniture; and I hoped that the photographs were as good as they should be. Because if they’re not... I looked at the clock; it was 1.25.

Oh, that’s alright then. We have all afternoon if we need to do it again.

-------------------
and for more hot and horny library adventures, don't forget to pick up The Nympho Librarian and Other Stories.

BUY IT NOW from Kindle just $2.99

BUY IT NOW print edition

BUY IT NOW Nook just $2.99

ROADHEAD - AVAILABLE NOW KINDLE AND NOOK

AVAILABLE NOW
Roadhead - Torrid Tales of Sex in the Front Seat by Chrissie Bentley

It’s an adult fantasy that’s built upon a youthful reality. I don’t know about you, but almost all of my earliest significant sexual experiences took place in a moving vehicle of some description, from the first hard cock I ever touched to the first (more or less) that I ever sucked, from the first time I orgasmed to someone else’s touch, to the first time I felt that touch to begin with.

It wasn’t deliberate, and it certainly wasn’t planned. It’s just... where else were we expected to go? It’s why the western world is still littered with Lovers’ Lanes, and long after the drive-ins rolled up their screens, we all have friends who lost their innocence to the splash and slash of an all night creature feature. Our parents used the car to get from A to B. We used it to learn the birds and the bees.

That is the world that this collection of short stories takes us back to, those wonderful years when parents or room mates or whoever held a curfew, and bed rooms and back rooms and bathrooms and all were out of the question for more than a cuddle.

So we took to the highway, the wide open road, with the wind in our hair and Bruce on FM, and I still say a silent prayer of thanks to the speed cop who seemed happy to believe that I was simply resting my head in my boyfriend’s lap, and who didn’t even ask him to move the jacket I’d been resting under. He’d probably seen it all before anyway and hey - he was young once as well.

Not that every story here takes place in the front seat. We begin on a Greyhound, and take a bus too, and we even get diverted to a motorcycle sidecar. What they all have in common, though, are youth and exuberance and, most of all, escape. Escape from reality, escape from authority and, most of all, escape from inexperience and ignorance.

Travel broadens the mind, they say. The travelers here have very broad minds.

Buy it now for Kindle

But it now for Nook





Buy it now for Kindle

But it now for Nook

Three Special Guys

There’s a lot of dildos on the market right now; I know, because I seem to have a box full of the things, including a few I’ve never even used... gag gifts from friends made from chemical compounds that you wouldn’t feed to a landfill; ugly colors that looked better online; ugly shapes that you wouldn’t want to touch.

But for every few duds, there’s always a stud, and for every few winners there’s always a champion. And then there’s that select handful (and the best ones are at least that!) that ... well, they’re almost like old boyfriends, aren’t they, because you know every ridge and every bump too, but even more importantly, they know you too.

So here’s a few lines about three special guys... friends who step far beyond the customary parameters of a sex toy, and become a part of the furniture too.



I called my first dildo Chucky because
That was who he replaced
When Chucky was chucked
But I wanted to fuck
And he always found the right place

But he really was not much to look at, and
He tasted all rubber-y too
It was time to upgrade
From when Chuck was made
Cos I wanted one just like... you


I called my next dildo Randy because
That’s how he made me feel
That discrete suction cup
Kept him standing up
And all I had to do was kneel

He was a little too artificial though
He still did not feel quite true
It was time to upgrade
From when Randy was made
Cos I wanted one just like... you


I called my last dildo Lance because
That’s how deep inside he is going
And that taut VixSkin feel
Feels warm, nearly real
And when he spreads me, it’s just like he’s growing

Maybe he needs more attention than most
But it’s got to be worth it, you see
Cos he’s feeling just right
And he’s stretching me tight
And he’s not you... I’ve got one like me!


This posting sponsored by EdenFantasys

A SOUTHERN FRIED LULLABYE

Is this the hottest picture sequence I've seen all day? I don't know, but it sure makes me hungry...


Cornbread and cuttle fish
And sex under the table
Making hay and shouting “yay”
As much as I am able

Butterbeans and grits and greens
And humping cousin Jethro
Eat the meat
Off chicken feet
Can you fuck my ass? I guess so....

Possum pie and roadkill stew
And cum inside my tummy
That’s my song
It wasn’t long
But you must admit it’s yummy

(with apologies to the Carolina Chocolate Drops)

Look at the size of this thing!

A surprise in my mailbox this morning, and I hope its owner doesn't mind me sharing but... OMG! The head alone looks like a quarter-pounder, and I want mine with hot sauce AND fries....

Take Me Out Tonight

TAKE ME OUT TONIGHT
True confessions! I’ve been known to fall to my knees in the occasional alleyway, and I almost lost my virginity at an Iggy Pop concert, except we couldn’t get the angle right, so I jerked him off instead. There was about a thousand people there, so that was pretty public. I blew a boyfriend on a bus as well, but it was late, and there was no-one else around, plus I had his coat over me at the time.

Where are you going to take me tonight?
My lover, my partner, my friend
We could go to the movies or maybe a show
Or that new restaurant in the south end
Or you could…
Take me on the subway with the tourists and their languages
Take me in a Subway, fuck me hard across the sandwiches
Take me with abandon, with a band up on the stage
Take me in the monkey house with my ass against a cage

You could take me to sit with your mother
(we did kinda promise we would)
Or out to a bar with those people from sales
It would do your promotion hopes good
Or you could…
Take me at the racing track, take me in the grass
Take me at the shopping mall and fuck me up the ass
Take me at the theatre and upstage all the shows
Fuck my mouth till your cum cascades and pours out of my nose

You could take me out to visit friends
We could spend the evening dancing
We could head on down to Target
Get that plasma screen you’re wanting
Or you could…
Take me to the parking lot to the space reserved for cripples
Bare my breasts and shoot your load, and I’ll lick it off my nipples
You can take me any place you want, fuck any hole that suits you
Take me on mass transit, spread my cunt to the commuters

Take me at a Primary with the network cameras staring
Take me roughly, call some friends round, fuck me till I’m tearing
Take me at a baseball game, take me at the Dome
Do anything you like…
... except another night at home

I just got a review on Jane's Guide!!! Yay!!!!

Thank you to Jane's Guide for a wonderful review!

"This blog shares original erotica, sex book/movie reviews, and movie clips from different tube sites. Jenny Swallows is co-author of The Nympho Librarian and Other Stories, as well as books of erotic poetry and more! If you are interested in her work, there are links to where to buy it on other sites. I found her XXX movie reviews to be a laugh riot (while also being pretty informative). Most of the time she seems to be drawn to the classics or modern day parody. I think that my absolute favorite journal entries here involve discussion and screen caps from her sexual adventures on the computer game Second Life. The only downside? Some of these porn tube videos create pop ups or start automatically. That said, she has a nice collection of clips of oral sex featuring uncut cocks (and that is a pretty nifty bonus). A neat and sexy blog! - Vamp"

I LOVE THIS SONG!

Not sure how I missed this...

But I did. Better late than never, though... A hilarious posting from a wonderful blog. thank you!

and a pic of actress/singer/model Yumi Sugimoto, just because....

The Clit-erion Collection - Librarians (2011)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time


It was inevitable I'd pick this one up eventually. For a start, there really aren't many things hotter than having sex in the library... but you already know that if you've read my own collection of horny humping library hijinks the Nympho Librarian and Other Stories, which isn't the book of the film, but it could be.



But also because I've yet to see a Joanna Angel production that hasn't left me reaching for the towels. And this one's no exception.

Librarians focuses in on what the blurb claims is just another average day at the Clitty City Library, although I'll be honest and wonder just how average it is, being held up at gunpoint by a dude (James Deen) who you've just told cannot borrow a book because he already has 200 other overdue tomes?

No matter. The local SWAT team soon descend, headed up by Kimberley Kane, and a tense stand off ensues... with a lot of stand up as well. Deen is a genuine rarity among gun-toting criminals in that his cock is definitely bigger than his weapon, but the librarians ... Joanna Angel, Asphyxia Noir, Draven Star and Kleio Valentine ... certainly aren't cowed by it.

Neither are the library's other patrons, as Danny Wilde and Mick Blue both slip the girls a few tips (and shafts and roots) and Skin Angel shows why she is so wonderfully-named, so while you could probably grumble that the plot has got somewhat lost amidst all the fucking and sucking, I doubt you'll be stopping to complain.

Especially once Kane joins in the fun, in a final scene that milks the guys for everything they've got and definitely leaves the girls looking dewey.

A two hour movie offers little in the way of extras. But the set is phenomenal, the scripting is fine and the action is more or less non-stop. Plus, there's one scene that, personally, I've been replaying in mind from the moment I saw it, so much so that I'm kinda glad I don't have to go into work this weekend. Between Angel's Librarians and my own recent confessions, I don't think I could even look my co-workers in the eye....

The Clit-erion Collection - Lust Combo (1970)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
Some movies recommend themselves for their title, some for their artwork, some for their cast. And some because it is impossible to resist a film that proclaims itself to be "an expose of the record business... filmed on actual locations in and around Memphis and Nashville."

Jenny Gets On Top is such a movie. indeed, it might well be the only one that fits that particular criteria, but boy, does it do it well. Directed by Carl R Carter, maestro behind such b-movie delights as Trucker's Girl and Barbie's Hospital Affair (forget the film, you can get off on the titles!), Jenny gets On Top would appear to be another in that short run of end-of-innocence era flicks that played on the general public's fascination with groupies. But Groupie did that gig so well that anything else in the genre just got overlooked. Including the lovely Jenny.

The whole affair, for what it's worth, appears basic. Look it up on IMDB and it appears that the lovely Jenny was originally known by the distinctly less alluring name of Lust Combo - which sounds like something you'd buy from Gangstermart, looking rudely out-of-place on the Value Pack aisle. IMDB certainly shrugs it off very brusquely; "A three piece rock band called "The Three Easy Pieces" drives into Tennessee to play a gig. After the show, they meet up with three women and pair off for three one-nighters. In the morning, the band leaves."

In between times, though, the charms of Cheri Parks, Linda LaLane and Renee Dupree (Eileen, Cindy and the oddly named Chlorine), none of whom seem to have made any other movies whatsoever, are on ample display in a film whose nudity quotient was certainly justified as much by the fact that such sights were now legal, as any demands of the plot and script, while the talents of the Three Easy Pieces don't appear to have set the world afire either.

But do not let all that put you off. The band are as studalicious as a any movie rocker circa 1969 could be, and don't they know it! Motoring to their roadhouse gig, all three band members... Vince, Jim, and Mike... daydream of the dream girls who might be awaiting them after the show, and why not? They're young, they're hot, they're on the way to the top... and life doesn't get much better than this. So they scoop up the two horny housewives who took in the show while their hubbies were away, add a sexy Creole cutie to the menu for the night, and then it's back to their oddly luxurious hotel room for the heart of the movie. A game of spin the bottle, of course!

Seventies softcore is often scorned for really not delivering that much of anything. But there are moments when both cast and camera seem to have forgotten the rules of the road, especially once Vince and the blonde vixen Eileen start picking up steam. Something Weird video, which seems to be the sole repository of the magnificent Lust Combo, also makes a virtue of saucy Cindy's tits... "a joy to behold" is the precise term they use. In fact, the only question that really demands to be answered is... who the fuck is Jenny?

Good question.

Because this is where it gets interesting. It seems that IMDB - and, therefore, every other website that purports to know what it's talking about, but actually takes its info from that same single source - got it wrong! Big surprise? Maybe. Either way, the real Jenny Gets On Top is even more obscure than Lust Combo, was made a couple of years later, has a completely different cast and plot....

And it has nothing at all to do with Lust Combo. NOTHING!!!!!

In this movie, Jenny is indeed the name of the movie's star, a blonde country beauty named Jenny Palmer, who strums her guitar, sings her songs, and has no compunction whatsoever about fucking her way, of course, to the top. Oh, and I saw it mentioned on an internet thread discussing the erotic fascination of armpit hair... apparently there is a very arousing glimpse somewhere within. And that is all I've been able to discover about a movie which might be truly appalling... or it might be a lost classic begging for rediscovery.

Either way, I want it!

Badly Subtitled Porn

"Do me the blowjobs!"

The Clit-erion Collection - Spiderman XXX (2011)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
One seriously iconic scene just became... iconic-er.

Remember in the first Spiderman movie, the moment where everyone’s favorite webslinger lowers himself from a fire escape to kiss the heroine on the lips?

Imagine if he’d continued lowering himself.

Axel Braun did.

Spiderman XXX: A Porn Parody is not the first comic book reimagining to hit the screens with a great sticky splodge, but it might be the best so far. Less indebted to the comic book than it is the more recent movies, the casting is spot-on, with even the mainstream comic forums remarking on the improvements this crew offers on the mainstream stars. So, Xander Corvus plays a seriously well-hung Spidey, Capri Anderson simmers as long-time love interest Mary Jane, Ash Hollywood is a spot-on (but sadly under-used... in every sense of the word) Gwen Stacey... but it’s the supporting characters who will get the Spiderfan’s blood pumping, as Aunt May, J Jonah Jameson and even Doctor Octopus take turns to appear, and please tell me that nobody out there has ever fantasized seeing that trio doing the dirty on film?

It’s okay, we don’t (although the comic book accompanying the DVD does include one nothing-left-to-the-imagination scene with May and Uncle Ben). What we do get, though, is a fabulously realized threesome between Flash (Seth Dickens), MJ and Gwen; the Black Widow fucking Spiderman’s brains out, before giving him head (instead, one presumes, of biting his off); and some genuinely sizzling action from Electro (Dick Delaware), as he grinds out his passions on a suitably slutty prostitute, and then zaps her with a lethal dose of electric cum.


Yes, the special effects here are both stunning and well-utilized, both in the sex scenes and the action sequences - of which there are sufficient for Braun to have included a non-sex version of the same film in the bonus features.

The story, suitably, is straightforward enough. J Jonah is still waging his war against the costumed menace who he believes is behind the city’s entire crime wave; mild-mannered Peter Parker is the photographer whose exclusive shots allow JJ to illustrate his arachnophobic tirades. Just another normal day at the Daily Globe... until crime boss the King Pin hires Electro to undertake a special job - and all hell breaks loose around them. New York is plunged into a city-wide blackout, Spidey is recruited by the Avengers; the SHIELD warehouse is burgled and something top secret is stolen; and Doc Ock is looking for a room to rent. Oh, and there’s lso time for Robbie Robertson and Betty Brant to have some meaningful discussions about sexual harassment in the corridor outside the newspaper office.


The scene that your mind will keep rewinding to, though, comes after Spiderman has saved Peter Parker’s girl from three marauding thugs, and she rewards him with a kiss that just goes deeper and deeper. A BJ from MJ... did JJ get the pics?

I can’t wait for the sequel!

$2.99 KINDLE AND NOOK SALE

From now till January 31, (almost) all my Kindle and Nook e-book editions are available for $2.99.

THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN AND OTHER STORIES
Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!

The sex is hot, but the librarians are hotter, as authors Chrissie Bentley and Jenny Swallows reveal the lip-smacking truth about what goes on behind (and on top of, and around as well) the bookshelves.

Includes the tales THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN, SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY, COUSIN TOM’S FIRST BLOWJOB, CUM BREATH, THE LIBRARIAN’S CHRISTMAS STOCKING, THE STUDENT BODY, STICKY FINGERS, MY CIVIC DUTY, WATCHING THE CLOCK, THOROUGHLY MODEM MISS and CHECKING OUT.

KINDLE EDITION buy it now just $2.99

NOOK EDITION buy it now




THE FIRST TIME & 59 OTHER MAGIC MINUTES is a breathtaking compendium comprising no less than SIXTY sexsational verses, tracing her sexual journey from inquiring teen to amorous adult, from backstreet assignations to the sanctity of marriage - and beyond.

Poetry will never seem the same again.
KINDLE EDITION buy it here
NOOK EDITION buy it here




THREE NUNS AND A MOTORCYCLE
A lipsmacking collection of short stories and book excerpts, including highlights from all of my novels and novellas, plus previously unpublished adventures for Ambrose Horne and Cousin Tom, and much more.
KINDLE EDITION - buy here


NOOK EDITION buy it here




COUSIN TOM'S MOTORBIKE AND OTHER STORIES
Seven hot new erotic adventures with the Rocky Mountains' raunchiest couple. Follow Cousin Rose and Cousin Tom as they hump and bump their way through Monroe CO - includes the stories "Cousin Tom's First Motorbike," "Cousin Tom's Revenge," "Cousin Tom Slips Behind," "Cousin Tom & The Sisters of Mercy," and more!
KINDLE EDITION buy here


NOOK EDITION buy here




WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION
Everybody says you should never mix business with pleasure. But my vacation had already been squeezed in between a couple of work assignments, and I was a single girl in a foreign country. What did I expect might happen?

What I Did On My Summer Vacation is a non-stop whirl of sight-seeing and sex, historic England seen from angles that the tourist guides never mention. And you wouldn't believe my holiday snaps!

KINDLE EDITION buy here


NOOK EDITION buy here





SOHO BY SPOTLIGHT

KINDLE EDITION buy here


NOOK EDITION buy here
In London in the 1960s, pornography was a man’s world.

Stag movies and blue films were 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, they would probably have been made by men as well.

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

This is her story.




DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE contains six full-length, red hot tales of lust, love and the most explosive oral sex imaginable. That’s around fifty pages of sucking, blowing and, of course, swallowing. Because good girls don’t spit.

KINDLE EDITION buy here



NOOK EDITION buy here

Bukkake Cake - Buk-cake?

The Clit-erion Collection - Scooby-Doo: A XXX Parody (2011)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time

It doesn’t matter how much you love TV Land. You do not need to see Shaggy get his cock sucked. By Velma. While Daphne watches. While Fred fucks her ass. While Scooby...

Yeah, where’s Scooby?

That is the mystery that powers director Eddie Powell’s Scooby-Doo: A XXX Parody, as Shaggy awakens after a lusty Halloween party to discover his best friend is missing. He tries to recall the last time he saw him... at the party. With drugs and drink. And boobs and vaginas. And a cute blonde fairy who rode him cowgirl two weeks to Christmas. Or words to that effect.

Zoinks!

Read more at Eden Fantasys.






This posting was sponsored by Eden Fantasys

under the bedclothes with her

I doubt whether his parents were ever as oblivious as we liked to think. I know they were rarely as sound asleep as Chuck used to say they were, and more than once I'd swear I heard voices from their room as we crept ever so quietly up the stairs and tumbled into his bedroom... And naturally, his bed. Once we were there, though... And especially once we were under the covers, or I was under them at least, I really didn't give a damn who knew. Because I got what I wanted, and so did Chuck. In fact, sometimes I think we both got more than we expected. like the first time he....

Well, let this movie tell the rest of that story....

The Nympho gets Nooked - the Librarian Strikes Again

THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN AND OTHER STORIES!
now available for Kindle, Nook and in print

Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!

The sex is hot, but the librarians are hotter, as authors Chrissie Bentley and Jenny Swallows reveal the lip-smacking truth about what goes on behind (and on top of, and around as well) the bookshelves.

Includes the tales THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN, SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY, COUSIN TOM’S FIRST BLOWJOB, CUM BREATH, THE LIBRARIAN’S CHRISTMAS STOCKING, THE STUDENT BODY, STICKY FINGERS, MY CIVIC DUTY, WATCHING THE CLOCK, THOROUGHLY MODEM MISS and CHECKING OUT.

BUY IT NOW from Kindle just $2.99

BUY IT NOW print edition

BUY IT NOW Nook just $2.99