A Little Something for The Weekend, Sir? Apollonia

Horatio writes: Lingerie may have been invented in France, but when one Ms. Apollonia Kotero used all of her musical talent to found Apollonia 6, the racy, lacey garments were firmly ensconced in the minds of thirteen and fourteen year olds across the nation. Apollonia was Prince's protege. And he was a man who knew that image trumped ability every day of the week. Hence Apollonia's special talent -- she and her band only performed in their undies. Clothing, and talent were never much of a priority. They were not needed. Deaf male teens were the only ones not to purchase their 1984 smash hit, Sex Shooter with its lyrics "I need you to get me off, I'm your bomb getting ready to explode, I need you to get me off, Be your slave do anything I'm told" But it was Apollonia's appearance in Purple Rain that cemented her legend. The scene where Prince, as The Kid, rubs her crotch over her pants was one to be rewound over and over and over. Josh David of Los Angeles who nominated this thespian tells us that he first watched the movie with his father at home in their den on the proto-cable system On TV. The moment the scene came on, father and son went silent. A quiet which was only broken by his mother using the intercom from her office upstairs to suggest to his old man that is was time for Josh's bed. She may have been out of sight but Josh's mother did not miss a trick. The damage, however, was done, and the image was tattooed at the front of his mind whenever it was business time. A simple story, but a powerful one. I see London, I see France... I used to think about Apollonia in her underpants. A lot. Reignite those memories this weekend by locking eyes on Apollonia one more time and re-summoning those memories which lie deep within.

Busted! A Public Service Announcement

This masturbation PSA from the 70's is hilarious! I'd say "anti" masturbation PSA, but it's unclear if it's pro or con. I'd like to believe they're for it. After all, what mother doesn't want her son to pleasure himself in the privacy of his own room? Soundtrack available on K-Tel Intimate Moments, Volume 4.

Donor With a Boner

Like most college kids, I was broke. Whatever extra money I had went to beer and it usually wasn't much. Unfortunately, the girls I dated didn't always want just beer. Sometimes they wanted food, too. And they wanted me to pay for it.

Waiting tables for tips at the local greasy spoon didn't provide much extra income. Neither did proctoring the occasional test. If I was going to get some I was going to have to make some first.

One day as I sat bemoaning my fate and flipping through the college paper, I chanced upon an ad. An ad for a service I knew existed but generally only thought about as a punch line for a joke. "Sperm Donors Needed." Wow, I thought. Had I sunk so low? Was I really willing to donate my sperm to the collective goo pool for the few measly dollars necessary to take a girl on a date and receive, perhaps, a few measly kisses? Yes, I was. Absolutely.

After completing more paperwork than it took to get into college, I was admitted to give a sample specimen. After not smoking pot or beating off for 3 to 5 days (definitely 3 in my case) I arrived at the nameless door of the windowless building. A serious woman in a lab coat ushered me to my room and gave me a vial for my deposit. She told me there was "material" in there if I needed it.

Holy shit! Was there ever material! The small room contained exactly one black pleather couch, a TV, a bottle of baby oil, a VCR, and a drawer of countless magazines and VHS porns and absolute! Eureka! I spent the next half hour just fantasizing about what "material" I would pleasure myself to!

Ultimately deciding upon a lesbian tale of frisky co-eds, I quickly went to work. I deposited my sample in the vial and sheepishly walked it back over to the lab. A week later I received the call. I was in! From now on, and up to three times a week, I would be able to donate the love of my loins for $75 a pop! It was a godsend! Not quite finished with the curious co-eds I went right back over that afternoon and finished viewing their tale of sapphic hijinks and shenanigans.

Not wishing to disappoint the eager would-be-mothers of the world, I returned twice that week, each time excited by the thought of a new tape or magazine. For the next year I was a regular. I once joked with the nurse in charge that I should bring my own mug, maybe leave it there and re-use it like in a bar or something. She didn't laugh. I didn't care. I was getting paid to do what I was already doing!

Ironically, all this self-coitus left me tired and depleted and the money I had so eagerly hoped to raise to entertain the ladies became an afterthought. I wasn't in it for the money anymore. I was in it for the porn!

Now in my late 30's, I returned to my college campus for a football game a few weeks ago. I know I'm being paranoid, but I can swear at least a dozen kids had my eyes. I considered hugging them and telling them they were loved, but quickly thought otherwise.

Great Inventions of Our Time

Horatio writes: Fire. The printing press. The Interwebs. Inventions that have changed the world. We are proud to add two to the pantheon today. Few gave have arguably done more to change the way the average American male thinks, speaks, and acts.

The first was sent in response to to Brad from New Jersey's technical angst over how one should keep track of the exact spot to rewind one's parent's porno videos to after a stealth viewing in their room. Perhaps this information is coming twenty years too late for Brad, but we believe that Ian from Brooklyn's wisdom is still worth presenting anyway. "The answer," he suggests, "is called a numerical tape counter and its' invention changed my life. I could watch whilst pounding away at my pants, calm in the knowledge that after mopping up I was left with the simple task of winding that video right back to 4937."

A semi-connected invention related to the videos Ian used to watch. Rockin' with Seka in which Seka, the legendary porno Platinum Princess, played a role that was a stretch for her... a flight attendant who explained her sexploits to entertain her fellow hostesses and break up the boredom of a lay over. Ian wrote: "Seka was the Jenna Jameson of her day, so suffice it to say, the story line was scant but I did not need one. This was pulse pounding stuff. I was 14. I only needed to watch it for 35 seconds and that was enough for me three times a day." Seka was also an inventor, neigh a visionary, as an early adopter of the shaven haven some twenty years before it became standard practice. Think about that next time you admire her work while playing the one stringed bass. She was not just a pretty face but a genius upstairs. And if we need to tell you even more to put you over the top, while researching this, we were fascinated to find out that she is a huge fan of both the Cub and the Whitseox and owns a remarkable collection of Major league baseball caps. She truly is the perfect woman. Start the week off right by enjoying some Seka in action.

A Little Something For the Weekend, Sir? Nancy from Oliver

Horatio writes: The first time I ever saw a prostitute I was eight and I fell in love with her at first sight. It was Nancy from the movie, Oliver, and she was a magnficent being in her scarlet velvet, purple petticoats, strawberry blond fringe and a stupendous rack of breasts that stole every scene they were in by consistently threatening to topple out of the top of her saucy serving wench attirer. This was a lady to lust after. Yes, she loved danger in the form of her main squeeze, Bill Sykes but what really made her stand out was the soft spot she had for Oliver himself, who was roughly my age. I loved every scene the two of them were in together. I would watch I'd Do Anything, her duet with Oliver and squint when he was in close-up, so I could imagine it was me by her side in those grubby East London surrounds where we had nothing to lose by being together and were afraid of noone judging us. Shani Wallis was the actress who defined the hooker with a heart of gold, while one Ms. Julia Roberts was still in diapers. The role was strangely the only major one of her career. Enjoy those fleshy orbs in action one more time with this classic clip. Those mounds are still fabulous after all these years. And if you want something more contemporary, here is her daughter, designer Rebecca Rich.

Quick Draw McGraw

Elliot from Westwood, California turned what could have been traumatic and debilitating adolescent episodes into the experience of a lifetime. Literally.

My secret was my shame. And vice versa, although isn't it always? I was fast. So fast that the first touch of a woman's lips upon my own would send my underwear straight to the goo factory. I couldn't help it. Try as I might (my friend suggested I think about wet leaves and puppies) I couldn't hold out for more than a few minutes. The problem persisted right up until my first complete sexual encounter at the age of 16. Barely had my purple mushroom entered the forest when, SPLOOGE, it was over. From then on, apologies and excuses became an art unto themselves. "I didn't get enough sleep." "It's hereditary." "I eat too much eggs."

Eventually, it reached the point where I didn't even want to have intercourse. I couldn't bear the shame and humiliation. And so, after much trial and error I found my threshold: heavy kissing, boob fondling and up to, but not to exceed, 7 minutes of dry humping. For the aforementioned I was a virtual Cassanova, but let me grow arrogant and stray anywhere past the magic minute 7 and KABLOOM!, it was all quickly over.

And so, girl after girl, right up until senior year of college, I abstained. The excuses were no easier to come by, but the shame I now felt paled in comparison to the excruciating feelings of inadequacy I felt before. And now, best of all, I was free to go home and mentally finish the encounter at my own pace! In what became a ritual of self-love, I would rush to my room, drop my pants, and now, finally, have my way with myself. Oh what a lover I was! Slowly undressing, teasing, sometimes even frolicking, these erotic sessions lasted hours, sometimes more!

Today, as a married man and father, if not for the occasional surprise of my wife's thumb in my can, it's safe to say I could last all day. Lovely as she is, the excitement that fueled, and cut short, my adolescent encounters just isn't there. Which is not to say the post game beat sessions are not. They, my friends, will never go away.

A Trip Down Mammory Lane

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