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July 17th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Anal Roughie Fun In A Secluded Barn

Whilst rummaging through one of my older backup folders, I happened upon an original sex story that was posted by its author to alt.sex.stories.moderated back in March of 2000. Because I saved it (for some long-forgotten reason that no doubt boils down to “I’m a data hoarder”) in its original Usenet email-like format with all headers, I’ll link to a copy of that .txt file for archival benefit, and for the edification of readers who were not around back then and may never have seen such a thing.

headers for the story The Barn as posted to alt.sex.stories.moderated in 200

The story is titled “The Barn” and it’s by Paulinus Fang (aka “The Dirty Dentist”). A quick search of Google, Bing, Duck Duck Go, and Yandex turns up no trace of this story left anywhere on the searchable/living web, but the original ASSM posting contains a .sig/tagline with a link to Mr. Fang’s story page on Lycos. (Amazingly, the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine has a pretty good 2001 copy of his page, which is why I was able to drop that link.)

I’ll also post the story below, with fair warning that it’s a heavy BDSM/kidnap story that presents as noncon (which is to say, it reads as if it were depicting kidnapping and rape). Its original tagging includes a “NC? anal” tag, and that question mark is significant. As was common in those times, a plot twist late in the story implies, but does not 100% establish, the consent that initially seems absent from the text. In this, the story is truly an authentic artifact of its time and place. If you don’t want to read a story like that, now is your time to stop. (The full set of tags included in the original posting looks very incomplete to modern eyes; it was in its entirety “nc? anal, bdsm”.)

The Barn

The candles flickered as the air currents moved, stirred by the swing of the girl suspended by her wrists from the hook long ago driven into the beams of the old barn.

She waited, limply, no longer willing to try to break the bonds linking her to the ancient structure.

Few thoughts passed through her brain, her mind long since blank through deprivation of her senses. The blindfold smelt of him, the one who had dragged her to the barn, bound her and hung her like curing ham. She remembered it being placed around her face, the red pattern blurring as it passed closer to her, then only the dull light passing through the cloth.

She heard footsteps in the edge of her senses: was he back? What would happen? A sound, something hitting the floor, yet what? She did not know, would never know.

Hands touched her face, tracing slowly down her cheek below the blindfold, a finger nail scraping slowly down her neck. She shivered, shrank back, yet could not because of her bindings.

The hands were gone, silence, then they returned to her neck, touching her dress, two hands in the neck of the simple cotton dress. The fingers tightened then moved apart, stripping the dress from her back, tearing textiles asunder. The shriek of the cloth, destroyed, was the only noise.

The cooler air caressed her back, chilling the beads of sweat breaking her skin. The wait, the dread, the thoughts of what could happen, what price he would extract from her, were almost unbearable.

She felt the warmth of his breath on her ear before he spoke, softly to her. “You shouldn’t be here, you know that, don’t you?” he hissed. She swallowed, unable to speak through her dry mouth, but nodded her head.

“Nobody knows that you’re here,” he paused, the breath returned to her other ear, “you’re just a missing person. I can do as I please.” She felt him move away from her. Her ears strained for sounds indicating his intentions, but she heard nothing, only silence.

She arched her back, wracked with pain. Her brain screamed with shock yet was unable to register the site of the pain. After a few seconds the burn shot across her shoulders, followed instantly by sweat on her top lip. A second bolt of pain across her buttocks caused her to jerk again, then relax. She swung slowly, revolving on her rope with the tips of her toes touching the dusty floor. Then silence.

Braced for the next blow, she waited; the seconds passed slowly, becoming minutes, still waiting. Would she be released? Would she be free again? When would he strike her again? What had he used on her?

Still hanging by her wrists with the ache in her arms returning after becoming overridden by the two blows, she felt his presence. She thought how strange it was that she should become so tuned in to her environment even when deprived of the use of her eyes.

His hands were on her hips, turning her on the end of the rope, holding her firmly. Was this when he would finally cut her down? No! She felt his warm, naked body press against her from the rear, his fingers searching between her buttocks, touching the delicate flesh, the paper thin skin in her cleft, the thicker feel of his penis, the blunt end pushing, probing, searching. She clenched her buttocks, determined to stop his entry but could feel his fist, wrapped around his penis, holding it in position against her anus, his knuckles pushed into her firm buttocks. He pushed, slowly, steadily against her anus. Unable to resist the force her anus stretched until, with a sudden pop, he was inside her, his groan drowned out by her cry.

The sharp stinging of her anus increased as he entered her, turned to a burning, then eased as he slid in, his penis disappearing as he pushed. She felt full, full enough to burst, slightly uncomfortable with the fullness yet he unexpectedly did not start to thrust, he just waited with his penis buried deep in her rectum. The tears soaked into the blindfold.

After a few minutes he started to move slowly, backwards and forwards, sawing into her, deeply, his breathing rate increasing audibly behind her. She was powerless to offer any resistance, with her hands tied above her head and her feet hardly touching the ground. He stopped; she felt him adjust his position, then holding her firmly he started to move her forwards and backwards, pulling her further onto his penis, then pushing her away: it was as if he were masturbating with her anus. The sensation of fullness changed with her swinging motion on the rope. The rate increased until her held her firmly against him, his penis jerking in her bowels and he shot deeply into her. He pushed her forward, and his penis withdrew from her anus, the semen leaking out.

The girl was left hanging for a few moments, then without warning she collapsed to the floor, tasting dust in her mouth from the barn. She could feel the severed rope around her wrists being untied, as the pressure was released she felt the blood rush into her hands, the tingling pins and needles adding to her day of discomfort. As feeling returned, she reached up and slid the blindfold up her forehead. The light bursting into her eyes caused her to close them. Slowly she squinted though eyes half closed, adjusting to the light, trying to focus on her captor who stood over by a table, packing a riding crop and rope into a bag. He turned, saw her looking at him and spoke again in his soft voice. “Is it next weekend that we are going to visit your parents?”

And there you have it: an authentic sample of BDSM porn the way it was, back at the dawn of the new century!

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July 16th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Moment Of Joy #15

Today’s moment of joy:

The most joyous thing I saw today was the feral smile on the face of the dom whose sub realized a moment too late that “make me” are words of consent.

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July 15th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Big Dildo: Will It Fit?

My father was a shade tree mechanic, back in the pre-internet days when such men spent a lot of time buying the wrong parts and taking them back to the auto parts store. I used to ask him “do you think this one will fit?” And his optimistic answer, always, was “We’ll make it fit, son. We’ll make it fit. Just get a bigger hammer!”

huge dildo with facets and sharp-looking edges is lined up ready to be inserted into a stretchy anus

The Kink.com shoot Horny Russian Anal Slut features not one, not two, but three huge dildos (plus a similarly-sized strap-on). Will they all fit up Sasha’s wonderfully-capacious ass? Of course you know the answer: “We’ll make it fit!”

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July 13th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Goodbye, Dr. Ruth

I’m sad to report that everybody’s favorite grandmotherly sex therapist, Dr. Ruth, has died. From the Associated Press story/obituary:

Dr. Ruth Westheimer, America’s diminutive and pioneering sex therapist, dies at 96

NEW YORK (AP) — Dr. Ruth Westheimer, the diminutive sex therapist who became a pop icon, media star and best-selling author through her frank talk about once-taboo bedroom topics, has died. She was 96.

Westheimer’s giggly, German-accented voice, coupled with her 4-foot-7 frame, made her an unlikely looking — and sounding — outlet for “sexual literacy.” The contradiction was one of the keys to her success.

But it was her extensive knowledge and training, coupled with her humorous, nonjudgmental manner, that catapulted her local radio program, “Sexually Speaking,” into the national spotlight in the early 1980s. She had an open approach to what two consenting adults did in the privacy of their home.

Her radio success opened new doors, and in 1983 she wrote the first of more than 40 books: “Dr. Ruth’s Guide to Good Sex,” demystifying sex with both rationality and humor. There was even a board game, Dr. Ruth’s Game of Good Sex.

She soon became a regular on the late-night television talk-show circuit, bringing her personality to the national stage. Her rise coincided with the early days of the AIDS epidemic, when frank sexual talk became a necessity.

“If we could bring about talking about sexual activity the way we talk about diet — the way we talk about food — without it having this kind of connotation that there’s something not right about it, then we would be a step further. But we have to do it with good taste,” she told Johnny Carson in 1982.

In the 1980s, she stood up for gay men at the height of the AIDS epidemic and spoke out loudly for the LGBTQ community. She said she defended people deemed by some far-right Christians to be “subhuman” because of her own past.

After receiving her doctorate in education from Columbia University, she went on to teach at Lehman College in the Bronx. While there she developed a specialty — instructing professors how to teach sex education. It would eventually become the core of her curriculum.

“I soon realized that while I knew enough about education, I did not really know enough about sex,” she wrote in her 1987 autobiography. Westheimer then decided take classes with the renowned sex therapist, Dr. Helen Singer Kaplan.

It was there that she had discovered her calling. Soon, as she once said in a typically folksy comment, she was dispensing sexual advice “like good chicken soup.”

“I came from an Orthodox Jewish home so sex for us Jews was never considered a sin,” she told The Guardian in 2019.

In 1984, her radio program was nationally syndicated. A year later, she debuted in her own television program, “The Dr. Ruth Show,” which went on to win an Ace Award for excellence in cable television.

She also wrote a nationally syndicated advice column and later appeared in a line of videos produced by Playboy, preaching the virtues of open sexual discourse and good sex. She even had a series of calendars.

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July 12th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Manly Bronze Men

I know there must be at least a few of my readers who appreciate the manliest of men, all burly and bronzed by the sun and displaying the capacity for imminent violence:

two very bronze and muscular men with tattered clothing and makeshift weapons are advancing with determination up a tropical beach

Artwork is by Hubert Rogers, and originally graced the cover of the May 15, 1935 issue of Adventure magazine.

adventure magazine cover with manly men

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July 11th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Why Rich Men Buy Boats

I found this slinky yacht bunny in a fancy coffee table book full of sleek nudes with French-language captioning. Perhaps I should have titled this post “Why Rich Men Buy Coffee Table Books”?

sleek nude on a sailboat

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July 10th, 2024 -- by Bacchus

Mutoscope Peepshow Nudies

Peep shows with erotic themes have been a staple of carnivals and sideshows and boardwalks since forever. Such enterprises were early adopters of each new “moving pictures” technology as soon as it was invented. But good photographs of peep shows are rare, and information about the material shown, even more rare:

four men in schoolboy short pants watching mutoscope peep shows

Closeup view of the three rotoscope films being shown at these peepshow booths

Here we see four eager scholars (judging by their schoolboy pants) who paid a penny apiece to watch such titles as Spring Chicken, Dance of Love, and Three Against One, that last title starring actor Leo Maloney, pictured here on an old postcard published by Exhibit Supply Company of Chicago. The machines that so captivated this audience are coin-operated Mutascope machines, according to Seth Grahame-Smith in his The Big Book Of Porn (Quirk Books, 2005), whence I got this image.

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