Pinup Friday

Dec 15, 2017 by

Last Friday, it snowed a tiny bit where I live.

Yes! In Pensacola! That is quite an event here, though I’m pleased to assure you that the spattering of iciness did not shut down the city, as it did four years ago.

In any case, to mark the occasion, this Friday Pinup features the irredeemably adorable Pixie and friend as a pair of snow fairies.

They appear quite comfortable out there, possibly because, judging from the extra pinkness on their bottoms, they both had a vigorous pre-frolic warmup.

So, whether it ever snows here again or not, I do wish everyone a warm evening doing something you enjoy with people you like.

That is all.

Devlin out.

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B & B Art

Dec 14, 2017 by

Here is another Boucher bottom, or part of one. It isn’t easy to get both a woman’s backside and her bosom into the same picture, you know. 

This bum belongs to Venus. That’s her son Amor, who is widely known as Cupid. The old masters often painted them together.

I don’t think Cupid owns any pants, and this is one of the few places I’ve seen him where that isn’t obvious.

 

 

Here is an updated version of much that same pose, sans Cupid, only here we have Venus reclining on the half-shell rather than standing up in it, as in Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.

In this rendition, the artist (the name was written in Cyrillic characters, so I have no idea who painted it) manages to get much more of both B & B into the frame, which is quite nice.

 

Speaking of goddesses riding giant mollusk capsules, here is one version of the cover for Venus on the Half-Shell. This Venus very much resembles the Botticelli painting, in case you wondered.

Just FYI, Kilgore Trout is Kurt Vonnegut’s fictional and not at all successful science fiction writer who is mentioned in many of K.V.’s early novels. Trout supposedly sold his stories, including this opus, as print content filler to girly magazines, so, of course, no one ever read them because the men were too busy looking at the pictures.

A decade or three after Kilgore Trout’s appearance, Phillip Jose Farmer took it upon himself, with K.V.’s permission, to actually write the epic. Farmer included the lengthy purported excerpt from the novel that K.V. wrote for God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.

Farmer’s story line is that galactic bureaucrats accidentally destroy Earth during routine maintenance. The sole human survivor then goes on a quest to find the “Definitive Answer to the Ultimate Question.”

And yes, Douglas Adams borrowed that concept for Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy. (42)

Suddenly, I’m hungry for clam chowder.

That is all.

Devlin out.

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The Indolent Nude

Nov 13, 2017 by

As fall comes on apace, nature loses the excitement and hurry-up of summer, and our thoughts turn more and more to rest.

This young lady, who appears to be lying on half of a very large oyster shell, is, in fact, asleep. The dreamscape that the artist Falero has imagined for her, however, seems anything but restful.

Painters have long appreciated the beauty of the undraped or scarcely draped feminine form, especially its rearward aspect, and frequently present that view whilst the woman is reclining. I love the play of light and shadow here, as well as the ethereal vagueness the artist gives to outlines, as if the figure is, indeed, in repose, and nothing in or around her is completely in focus.

 

This figure, with its much starker contrasts, an overstated lack of robustness in the skin tones, and the foggy uncertainty of the background, seems to portray an uneasy, even sickly, sleep.

 

In this sepia-toned Art Deco rotogravure, the woman is sleeping, but not at ease, capturing some of the angst and drama of the Jazz Age in her dance-like posture.

 

This sleeping beauty by Renoir, too, appears to be not quite static. The blue tint to the skin tone and the way she is hugging herself say that the autumn-browned grassy bank by the pond that she has chosen for her bed is not the warmest place on earth. One can almost feel her shivers.

She’s probably saying awful things in French about Pierre-August, even now, regarding how callous it was of him to wrap the nice warm shawl around her thighs instead of covering her other bits with it.

For his part, Pierre-August is telling her to quit complaining or he’ll spank her.

What? You didn’t think I could keep this art-appreciating foray completely vanilla all the way through, did you?

Rest quietly when you decide to recline nude, girls.

Or else.

That is all.

Devlin out.

 

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Pinup Friday

Nov 10, 2017 by

Today, many Americans observe Veterans Day with time off from work.

What better way to note the occasion than with a classy dame in uniform, more or less, and with her knee on some sort of Buck Rogers sci-fi mechanized stool.

I’m not sure we want to know what happens when one sits on the thing, and she is in no aching hurry to do so, either. She has that cigarette to finish, for starters, then she should probably go find out where General Sweetie Pie tossed the clothes he ordered her out of a while ago.

During the War (any or all of them), officers and non-coms, alike, either authorized or turned a blind eye to pinups hung inside GIs’ lockers, taped to the walls of machine shops, or proudly painted on a bomber’s nose. It was good for morale to remind a guy what he was fighting for.

And regardless whose hat that is she’s wearing, this gal looks plenty worth giving it everything a man’s got, as long as he remembers not to volunteer to sit on that stool. That is a very strange device, and I doubt even a French envelope would protect him from whatever it does.

Oh, and unlike last week’s model, she knows exactly where all of her body parts and footwear are.

Happy almost Veterans Day, everyone, and semper paratus.

Devlin out.

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Happy Halloween Een!

Oct 30, 2017 by

Today is the eve of Halloween, but we’ll not call it Halloween Eve, since the word halloween is a sort of contraction of the phrase All Hallows Eve. 

So, to avoid redundantly saying the same word over again, we’ll go with the above nomenclature for this occasion.

(Yes. The word redundantly is redundant, but I can do that. I’m an English major.) 

 

 

Anyway, I couldn’t wait to get started on the eldritch festivities this year, so here is a golden oldie I located of a witch and her protégés.

 

 

The first one, apparently, is the shot taken just before this little gem, which I’ve used before. This is such a fun photo that one tends to overlook the fact that the brunette with her hair up is using the broomstick like a 19th century vibrator.

 

Here’s another photo in the same vein and from the same era, but using different camera techniques. I’m not sure if the girls on their knees are bowing to their dark lord or blowing on the fire under the kettle. Maybe both.

 

This shot of a more modern coven reminds me of A Sourcerer’s Apprentice, only I let my girls keep their clothes on when they gathered around the cauldron in the wood.

 

And last but not least, here is Pixie Bo Peep being seriously paddled by a heavily inked wolfman.

I hope you enjoy that last shot. It’s one of very few Halloween costume photos I found that’s not girl-girl.

I have more treats in store for tomorrow, when I’ll also include a picture of this year’s Jack-o-lantern. I’ll get him ready this evening while listening to the Spooky Symphonies channel on Pandora, a Halloween tradition in my house.

Meanwhile, sleep well tonight. While you still can.

Mwahahahahaha!

Count Devlin of Spanksylvania

 

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The Snap of the Twig

Oct 25, 2017 by

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Lucy and Serena spent weeks planning a poolside party to celebrate the start of another semester at Red Blossom College.  Finally, the Japanese lanterns were swaying in the soft summer breezes and the drinks were chilling in the ice bucket. All of the delicious canapés the girls had worked on for days were ready to be brought out of the kitchen at the last moment. This was going to be such an elegant soirée, the party of the year!

The sisters had spared no expense or effort in their wardrobe for the evening, either. They were perfectly adorable, clad in blush pink from head to toe. Everyone would remember this party for years to come. They had poked and prodded and teased their Uncle Declan to get some new clothes, too, especially since they were having the party at his house.

Serena giggled and whispered to her sister, “Look at him, Luce! He’s all duded up and slicked back and so bossy! Let’s push him in the pool!”

Doubling over with laughter at the thought of their stern, staid, stiff uncle sprawling and sputtering as he crashed into the water, Lucy added, “How delicious! You get on one side, and I’ll get on the other, and we will ask him to help with the floating votive cups. When he bends over to put them in the water, push, okay?”

“Perfect!” agreed Serena.

“Hey, Uncle Declan, can you come help us?  Our arms aren’t long enough to put these floating candles in the pool without getting our sleeves wet.” 

As their indulgent uncle bent over the edge of the pool to inspect the situation, Lucy and Serena lunged toward him.  Their intrepid uncle was wise in the ways of brats, however, and deftly dodged their attempt.  With no place to shove, the girls found themselves careening poolward in clouds of chiffon and waves of water.

“Look at what you’ve done! Your beautiful new clothes are ruined, all because you wanted to be so clever and ruin mine!”  Declan was grim as he pulled the sodden, naughty pair from the water.  “Take off those wet things at once, hang them over the lounges to dry, and march yourselves into those woods and cut me two stout switches each.  I will expect you waiting in the clearing with those panties down in three minutes flat.  Now, go!”

Lucy and Serena shivered and sniffed as they tearfully searched for the instruments of their own destruction.  “Oh, he’s so angry,” sobbed Serena. “That was a rather stupid idea, Luce.  You know he has no sense of humor.  This is humiliating, fumbling naked through the woods, searching for a switch!”

“You sure agreed to it quickly enough, Reena,” countered her sister.  “Now hush up and find your second switch.  We are already at the clearing and you know what he’ll be like if we haven’t done exactly as he said.  Hurry!  I think I heard a twig snap!”

“What did I say about those panties, Serena May?  Get them down right this instant!  Don’t give me that look, Lucille Elizabeth!  Eyes front and wipe those smirks from your faces!  You little girls are about to be very sorry for your naughtiness.”

The girls heard many more snaps of the twig, but this time they felt them, as well.

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