Reverse Squirt!

Adventure Comics #270, March, 1960

Sideways Double-Page Squirt

Coincidental Squirt?

From the same issue of Action Comics as the squirt below.

Squirt!

Action Comics #371, Jan., 1969 [Cover]

BREAKING: Sweet-On-Superman Sarge Sentenced

A Fort Eustis drill sergeant was sentenced to six months in military prison after pleading guilty on Monday to a series of training transgressions including an incident in which he instructed a subordinate to dress like Superman and simulate sex acts.

Staff Sgt. Edmundo Estrada was court-martialed for his actions and relationships with low-ranking soldiers(...) In an affidavit filed April 16, 2006, a soldier accused Estrada of sexually assaulting him. He said he came to Estrada complaining of depression, and that Estrada instructed him to dress in Spandex and pretend to be Superman, weakened by Kryptonite and undergoing sexual torture. The soldier said Estrada photographed him during these acts and threatened him if he refused to participate.

Soldiers from Estrada's previous unit said he demanded to photograph them shirtless and wearing spandex.

Face Rear!

Here's the first bunch of chapters for 'Submission Agenda', an adolescent power fantasy featuring the characters of Marvel Comics, non-consensual and consensual sex, oral, anal, mind control, some bondage, elements of transformation and an amount of incest too.

Ghaaah. [Via a six-year old thread on Something Awful.]

I Hope That's His Arm

They used the most disgusting interior image for the cover of the highly recommended, perfectly awful The Brave and the Bold - The Batman Team-Ups, Vol. 1. Don't expect too many similarly queasy thrills inside, but it does have my favorite Batman thought balloon ever:

Say, I forgot--it IS my birthday! Just hope nobody notices it's also Bruce Wayne's--!

I think that means someone once asked Batman his birthday and he answered, "February ninetee--SHIT!! God damn it!!" And he never stopped worrying about it.

Think What You Will

From Detective Comics #155 and El Blog de Jotace:

BATCAKE

Erotic Batman watercolors by Mark Chamberlain. Not safe for: work, children, fundamentalism, trademark, social control, denial, or lunch! I know a lot of sites have beaten me to the link, but I can't resist stuff like this!

The Italian coffin manufacturer Cofani Funebri's insane calendar! Plus: "coffin maker's workshop" scented soap! [Via Incoming Signals]

BAD IDEA

...For most of us, anyway. Someone is selling Super-Hero Unitards.

Aside to Batman: Alfred made the blue trunks for a reason. For God's sake, wear them.

[Via]

Man Of Smut

READ A DIRTY EXCERPT FROM
60s SUPERMAN EDITOR'S NOVEL

Connoisseurs of the Superman comics edited in the '60s by Mort Weisinger find inexhaustible humor and horror in his ambivalent--even hostile--treatment of love and sex (see Hembeck). But his, er, thrust went even deeper in a 1970 novel of the beauty pageant trade, The Contest, as you'll see in this filthy excerpt (courtesy of SUPERFRANKENSTEIN operative AGENT DOUBLE-4). It starts a little slowly, then gets crazy as you wanna be:

All at once, light spilled weakly around him from behind; he whirled to find Hazel standing in the doorway he had left. She leaned against the jamb, her outlined form surrounded by an aureole, beckoning him with a forefinger. He walked her shadow, as on a dark path to her.

Her face was drawn. She seemed utterly spent. She told him softly, "There was someone outside in the yard. He was trying to look in through one of the windows. The watchman chased him, but he got away."

Roger said, "Maybe it was just a house prowl, a burglar."

"No. A burglar would avoid a lighted place."

"What do you think?"

She shook her head. "I can't think. Maybe somebody knew I was coming here. Maybe I was followed." She paused. "Or maybe you're the one being followed."

"Impossible," he said with emphasis. "Why would anyone want to spy on me?"

Reflexly he reached out to touch her, to comfort her, taking her hand. It was their first physical contact in all the time they had been together. A voluptuous current sparked across the tactile synapse, and they shivered in the power of their commitment. It transcended all thought and reason, all denial, all defenses.

He kissed her hand and put her palm to his face and pulled her to him. She yielded to his arms, to his caress of her cheeks, her temples. He took her nape and tilted her head back and they kissed tenderly, barely brushing lips, tasting each other, their tongues gently explorative. How acutely he remembered her fragrance. Their mouths were locked, sucking breath from each other. His hands traced her spine and embraced the twin moons of her hind, pressing her to him, her lissome warmth curved to his loins. Eyes closed, he swam in a sea of gold, the gold of the bay water in sunlight the first time he had seen her, the gold in the mirror where he had found her again.

He swept her up in his arms and carried her deeper into the storeroom, to a low platform heaped with coffin pads, and slowly laid her down.

"Not here, not now," she whispered, holding on to his arms.

"Yes, baby."

CONTINUED IN COMMENTS. FOR ADULT LIBERTINES ONLY. BY CLICKING ON THE COMMENTS LINK YOU CERTIFY THAT YOU ARE A MATURE, OPEN-MINDED BLUE STATE AESTHETE OVER 40.