May 27th, 2010 -- by Bacchus
Eggplanted
Vegetables. The original sex toy. And a far better use for an eggplant than actually eating the rubbery dirt-flavored horrors:
From Usenet.
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Geez I must be becoming jaded!. Interesting female doing her best to injest her veggetables and I’m wondering “What the heck is that lump of cement/stone doing in the front palour?”
Well, I prefer squash. There is a bit more of a curve to them.
You have maligned one of my favorite food diversions.
If variety is the spice of life, then surely the odd-tasting eggplant is a cure for food boredom.
It would appear that the eggplant (in the photo), is an Asian eggplant (where eggplants originate), which is a bit sweeter than it’s leathery-skinned American counterpart, the “globe” eggplant, which is more pear-shaped. The slender zucchini-shaped Asian veggies are a decent meat substitute in curry or stir-fry dishes. The common American variety is often skinned, disgorged and even salted in an effort to make it more palatable, and must be thoroughly cooked to avoid the “dirt flavor”.
Asian restaurants often bread large chunky slices of the Chinese or Japanese eggplants in a tempura batter, and then deep-fry them to a delicate texture, which is more mushy than tough. Perhaps they steam them first, I don’t know.
I get my eggplants from an ethnic grocer, by-the-way…
Eggplant parmigiana is an Italian dish, with tomato and mozzarella, which also complements the vegetable’s flavor well, but then, if you don’t like eggplant, the strong-tasting parmesan cheese flavoring may not be to your liking. The cheese Parmigiano-Reggiano is known as the one food containing a certain chemical which gives it a vomit tasting note…
Be sure to “pre-bake” the eggplant (on a baking sheet, oiled with extra-virgin olive oil), at 450 degrees (F) in a pre-heated oven, for about 12-15 minutes until they brown.
Usually a bit bitter, eggplants, like beer, are a bit of an acquired taste, so you may want to give them a few more chances with some experimenting.
Oh… the (green) Thai eggplants have very bitter seeds, which should be removed before cooking. I don’t much care for this variety, but maybe I just don’t have the right touch… or the right recipe…
…or maybe the secret is to first insert them into a willing young lady…
@ Peter Grimm:
The block and stool are posing accessories, for long exposure times.
For me, the fun thing about old pictures like this is that when I see that she’s carefully propped and supported in position, I know it’s a very old picture, and she had to hold that exact pose and be very still for a long time. It’s not just a captured moment; she had to pose and hold that eggplant in position for a while, probably with the photographer verbally domming her into keeping the pose. That adds an extra element of kink.
I just wrote a blog entry about the Japanese Egplant on my blog:
http://orgasmad....com/
I wrote:
One of the downsides of this project is an “orgasm a day” can be a bit depressing when one doesn’t have a boyfriend (or girlfriend) to assist. I woke up feeling cranky and depressed.
However, I pulled myself together and decided that today I would reconnect with my first love. I remembered the supple flesh, the silky skin, and sinuous curves. I remembered the different sizes, shapes and colors that fit snugly inside any mood or inspiration.
My first love was gentle and understanding. My first love let me set the pace and explore without fear or embarrassment. I remembered seeing my love for the first time through the crowd of a farmers market when I was fifteen, and feeling dizzy at the sight of something so lewd and salacious out in the open for all to see. My first, dear DEAR love..
… the Japanese eggplant.
It just so happens that I ran into my old flame at the supermarket yesterday, and I brought several home hidden among lettuce, tomato and red pepper. My apartment-mates think I’ve decided to toss a salad.
“Toss a salad.” No THERE is a nice euphemism.
So, this morning I was in no hurry. Gently, gently over the course of twenty minutes, starting slow and tender, testing the feel and texture, but then getting faster and faster, slippery and slidey, rocking my hips and flexing my legs, slowing down and holding back, then finally letting go.
The climax felt like those first ones: little shivers and tingles across my flesh along with the contractions and blood pounding in my ears. I lay there for ten minutes afterwards breathing deeply and listening to the birds chirp outside my window.
Later I gently soaped and washed my lover…
… and then, like a black widow spider, I cooked him and ate him with eggs, lettuce and tomato.
You can really tell it is a very old picture because the girl has pubic hair.
I started to laugh at abraxas’ comment, then I felt sad. How can it be that a nice pubic pelt, once seen as common and ordinary in erotic as an erect cock or well-lubed pussy, is now shorn and shunned, relegated as a “fetish item” alongside true fetishery like leather or exotic toys?
Bah.