Categories
"vintage" porn stars photographers

June 1983 Mandate


Yup, I’ve shown photos of our beloved Bruno many times before, in fact, even from this magazine – like when I sold it in 2017 (NOOOOOOO!); a lovely teaser pic – would you say “no” to Bruno? ; and part of my “beard series” here: beard039… all from photographer Len Tavares. The top one is my fave, but the bottom one might be if it wasn’t spread over 2 pages, which I’m not posting a complete version … but FACE, HAIRY BODY, COCK, FEET, CALF – sigh!

Speaking of the photographer, Len Tavares, I don’t give photo credits enough, but I am trying to remedy that when I can – often the pictures from the sources I use don’t give credit – but I’ve seen his name around Mandates, Honchos, perhaps Drummers, and wondered… anywhere else? Leonard “Len” Tavares was Katherine Hepburn’s private photographer!




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Uncategorized

make love, not war

heavy training as a boxer…

Categories
porno paperbacks

hard rider

Occasionally I see porno paperbacks online with cover photos of pornstars – and I click click save, and here’s one. Hard Riders by Mark Scott – not sure if he’s written anything else, but it’s part of the
Surree Stud Series. I’ve bought and sold porno paperbacks (I know some call them “pulp novels, “pulp fiction” or “sleaze” – but the first two really refer to the earlier books – before the mid 60’s and books started to get more explicit – so sleaze is a better term, but that also can refer to those “r-rated” books) – anyway, yes, bought and sold on Ebay (I also got a huge amount from our gay library – or rather the NYC one). I think the first breakout explicit paperback was Richard Armory’s Song of the Loon (made into a major motion picture in 1970. I sold my copy some years back (wait, I sold a copy, I am sure I’ve kept one – it’s actually a pretty good read!) Anyway, where was I? rambing about porn stars on covers of pornopaperbacks. OK.

Categories
print porn models

blinded by the light


more

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"vintage" porn stars pornstar - videography

Eric Ryan

who you may remember from such films as

  • Adonis Cockplay 16 – (1977?)
  • Dynamite – (1978)
  • The Boys of Venice – (1979)
  • Gettin’ Down – (1979) (Hand In Hand)
  • Just Blonds – (1979) (Hand In Hand)
  • Box Lunch (AKA The Boys In the Back Room ) – (1981?) found in The Bullseye Collection and Bullet Videopac 6 – Target Studios
  • Centurians of Rome – (1981) (Hand In Hand)
  • New York Men – (1981)
  • Better In Bed (AKA Bush Hog) – (1982?) found in Bullet Videopac 4 – Target Studios
  • Tough Guys – (1982) Mac Larsen
  • Leo & Lance – (1983)
  • Xtra Large (Rollo) – (1983)
  • Body Scorcher (1984)
  • Boys of West Hollywood – (1984) j.o. solos
  • Giants 1 – (1984)
  • H.E.A.T. – (1984)
  • Inside Eric Ryan – (1984) solo – (includes Accu-jac Machine)
  • Job Site – (1984)
  • Juice – (1984)
  • Non-Stop – (1984)
  • Screen Play – (1984)
  • Young Yankees – (1984)
  • Century Mining – (1985) Surge Studios
  • Hot Roomers – (1985)
  • Hot Solos (Old Reliable) aka Superior Men – (1985)
  • Sighs aka Lovers & Friends – (1985)
  • Some Old Friends 2 – (1986) – Old Reliable VT-59
  • Stiff Sentence – (1986)
  • Tough Iron – (1986)
  • Bi-Heat 3 – (1987)
  • Bi-Heat 4 – (1987)
  • Bi-Heat 5 – (1987)
  • Eric Ryan’s Grand Opening – (1987) follow up to Inside Eric Ryan – solo
  • Master Hyde – (1987) – (Christopher Rage)
  • The Shaft – (1987) – (Christopher Rage)
  • The Size Counts – (1988)
  • All Grown Up! – (1988) Old Reliable VT-115
  • Bi-Heat 6 (1988)
  • Bi-Heat 8 (1988)
  • Bi-Heat 9 (1988)
  • Days Gone Bi – (1988) (Zane)
  • Texas Size “12” – (1989)
  • Lewd Conduct – (1990)
  • Tightropes 13 – (1990?) Zeus Studios
  • Out of Order – (1992) Old Reliable Solos VT-208





OK – usually I don’t like to post pics with verbiage, but this last one, from Target Studios’ The Boys In the Back Room is one of my all-time favorite Eric Ryan appearances. ought to dig that clip out, eh?

videoclips links:

HA! you got this far! I couldn’t even begin to document his magazine appearances, but here’s one – STALLION 1983 December

Categories
"vintage" porn stars P M Productions pornoclips

Dynamite

Director: Arch Brown (1978)

Jack Wrangler is a “madman” who makes a time bomb inside a dildo, then plants it among one of several identical dildos in a dirty bookstore. He has sex with the store clerk, then the two of them get it on with 2 others. Several guys purchase one of these dildos, Jack Wrangler jerks off while watching the clock tick, Jack calls the New York Post to warn them for some reason, and…… With Eric Ryan, Tom Cord, Michael Munsey, Justin Thyme, Eric Hill, Michael Pen, John Meadows

so many questions! Why does the phone operator sound like Lady Bunny? Why haven’t I posted a clip from this before? What’s the music? Where in the West Village is this bookstore and does it still…. hahaha – nope, of course not!

DICK is important. REAL DICK! Not fakes! Phonies!

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Uncategorized

A Day For A Lay

original post: The Platonic Blow (A Day For A Lay)

by W.H. Auden

It was a spring day, a day, a day for a lay when the air
Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown.
Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there
On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.

I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined
A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged
Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind,
I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.

Our eyes met, I felt sick. My knees turned weak.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say.
In a blur I heard words myself like a stranger speak.
“Will you come to my room?” Then a husky voice, “O.K.”

I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy
He told me his story. Present address next door.
Half Polish half Irish The youngest. From Illinois.
Profession mechanic. Name Bud. Age twenty-four.

He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along
The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck
The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong,
His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck.

And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.
I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh.
His reply was to move closer. I trembled. My heart
Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly.

I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there.
I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge
Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair,
I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large.

He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way:
Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt
And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away.
Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.

The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft,
With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight
And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft
Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate

Singular powers of extension. For a second or two,
It lay there inert then suddenly stirred in my hand,
Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do,
And then with a violent jerk began to expand.

By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick
Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.
Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick,
A royal column ineffably solemn and wise.

I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze,
I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob,
I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees.
I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.

But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced
His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed
His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist
Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head.

I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown
Trunk against white shorts taut around small
Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down.
I tore off my clothes. He faced me smiling. I saw all.

The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out
With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw
An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout
Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.

The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man,
A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth.
Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan
To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth.

Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs,
The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear,
Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs,
Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.

We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch,
All fact contact, the attack and the interlock
Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch
Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.

Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine
Person between and closed on it tight as I could.
The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine.
Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood.

I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.

Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips
Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.

I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit.
I sniffed the subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist.

Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick.
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.

“Shall I rim you?” I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent,
Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass
To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse.

Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in
Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.

His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.

I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.

I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.

Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. “That’s lovely!” he hoarsely said.
“Go on! Go on!” Very slowly I started to move.

Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base
Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down
In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace
Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.

Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come
As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls.
I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb
And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls.

I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered, “Oh!”
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung.

Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock,
Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside.
The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.
He melted into what he felt. “O Jesus!” he cried.

Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick
Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat
His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick,
His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.