I couldn't resist . . . wooden double dongs?

Long-time readers of this blog (both of you, that is) know I have a fascination for the historical and the erotic -- if you haven't checked out my serialized erotic steampunk novel, Edward Lane's Argosy, you've been missing . . . something . . . -- so it isn't a surprise that this little item in the Sun caught my eye. 18th century dongage, in all its well-polished glory.

The 18th century isn't quite "antiquity", so I couldn't include them in my "porn from antiquity" feature, but I may well start a "Porn from History" feature elsewhere hereabouts. But the upshot is that these two 1700s era faux phalluses (phallii?) prove that not only did the ladies back then like to tickle their own trout, but they had access to some pretty remarkable assistance. These two proud specimens of the dildoists' art hail from France (of course -- that's where all the cool sex stuff came from) and were likely used by aristocrats.

Dildoes of wood, clay, ceramic, wax and (yes) leather were not uncommon in most historical eras. But they were usually cheaply made and few survived the demise of their owners. To see two handsome pieces like this in this good of a condition is remarkable, and rare. And before you ask, no, I did not bid on the merchandise. (Don't get me wrong, I'd love to own them, but Mrs. Ironwood won't let me spend more than a hundred bucks on sexual antiquities without her review).

But this begs a question as well: I described a wooden, wind-up clockwork vibrator in the third chapter of my novel, and I can't imagine that it would be difficult to construct. In the age of "green" everything, why hasn't anyone put together a cool, powerful spring-operated vibrator? Do it all in mahogany or rosewood like these fellas, or cap it in brass, chrome or gold . . . but isn't this an idea whose time has come?

Anyone?

Just to give a more complete description (and plug my ongoing book) here's an excerpt where Annette, a Parisian whore in 1891, describes the device I propose:

“Is monsieur enjoying himself?” she asked, hospitably, when she had taken him to the brink of rapture — and then stopped. “Annette is not like English whores — she does not rush you to the petite morte, thinking of nothing but money . . . she takes her time and enjoys the meal!”

“Vive la France!” Edward, agreed in an intent whisper, as her lips and tongue descended once more the torment his prick with pleasure. He felt her other hand steal under the waistband of her pantaloons — the little brunette tart was frigging herself! “Let me see?” he asked, placing a hand on her head to slow her motion. She was startled and gave a yelp around his prick, then embarrassed for being caught by her patron, but when she realized Edward wanted her to continue, she jumped up to fetch something from her handbag before returning to her submissive pose between his knees.

“If you do not care to fuck me, monsieur,” she asked, a wicked grin on her face, “then perhaps you will allow me to pleasure myself with my new vibrateur. . . all the girls are mad for them right now!” she confided, with teenaged enthusiasm.

Edward was intrigued. “Might I see it?” he asked. She nodded vigorously, and presented the instrument for his inspection with all the ceremony of a feudal ritual. He was not unfamiliar with the French passion for dildoes — nearly every lady wife and her chambermaid in Paris had one of the illicit instruments tucked away in her bedding — but this was something else

entirely

. He saw that the head, a simple design that did not try to mimic the variations of the male member beyond the most elementary form, was of highly polished brass, while the body of the engine was beautifully finished rosewood, sanded and varnished to a glass-like smoothness. At the base there was an elaborate brass fitting, as ornate as a music box.

“It works like this,” Annette explained, after he examined it. She turned the base several times, producing a small clicking sound, before it was wound enough, and then she activated a switch on the base. The faux phallus immediately produced a small whirring noise. “It is . . . how you say? Rouage d’horloge . . . clockwork! Oui, it is a clockwork vibrateur . . . the most amazing, wonderful contraption the French ever invented!”

“So . . . what do you do with it?” Edward asked, failing to see the device’s purpose or utility beyond that served so admirably by an ordinary dildo.

“Well, monsieur,” Annette confided naughtily as she pushed the instrument into her pantaloons and, he assumed, against the slit of her cunny, “When I place the baton just so . . . and activate it . . . OH!” Annette yelped as she flicked the switch with her thumb. “It produces the most divine vibrations against my . . . my clitoris . . .” she gasped. “It makes the work go much more quickly!” With that the randy young tart returned to her duties servicing Edward’s prick. The familiar motions were now punctuated with gasps and moans as Annette pleasured herself, a situation which Edward approved of heartily — never had he seen a woman become as aroused as the little whore had with her device. And the sensation of her expressions of lust while employed sucking his cock produced a delightful sucking which, if erratic, was none the less welcome for its novelty and renewed enthusiasm for the task.