That's why I sort of amazed myself when I bought a super deluxe collection of almost all the illustrations ever penned or sketched by Tom of Finland. At about 15 pounds, the book weighs almost as much as the one-handed barbell I keep near my home office desk. Hefting it is a chore. Lying in bed with it resting on my sternum hurts after a while. And it certainly hurt my wallet when I shelled out $150 to buy it.
But I am transfixed and hypnotized, turned on and utterly addicted to its pages, and there are 666 pages. The book is filled with more than 1,000 of Tom's drawings, and they're in sequential order from the very beginning in the 1940s to shortly before his death, the 22nd anniversary of which is coming up next week. It arrived wrapped in a beautiful jacket, encased in a specially designed box, and is printed on acid-free paper measuring nearly 19 inches high and 16 inches wide. (There are a couple of double foldouts forming poster-sized 19-by-43-inch prints, including one of his famous swimming pool scene.) The thickness of this book is more than 3 inches. To keep it out of sight from my straight buds, I have to lock it inside a piece of luggage.
But I've hauled it out over and over, and for days on end will keep it near my bed. I'll wake up in the morning long before it's time to actually get up, and pull the book up with one hand, my 'ceps bulging at the strain, then lie in bed ogling the hottest men on the planet while my cock pops up the covers like a tent.
What I want to do here is share a few pages worth of illustrations, through words and one picture that I think I'll be allowed to show since this is basically a book review. Tom occasionally told stories through the use of panels like those you'd find in a comic book, only there was no dialogue, just pictures. I'm choosing this particular storyboard because as soon as I turned the page and looked at it for the first time, it reminded me of one of the first homoerotic images I ever saw when I was about 11 or 12 years old. That one was a sketch in a book about settlers among the Indians, and I've written about that drawing previously on this blog.
In this series of images, Tom tells the story of a white muscular stud in the jungle. He's sporting a Tarzanesque physique with smooth slabs of massively sculpted pectorals, huge areolas and eraser-sized nipples, a slight smattering of chest hair around the upper sternum, guns that pop out 24/7 and complement his broad muscular shoulders and angular V-shaped build tapering down to a narrow waist, with a rock-hard almost concave set of hairless abdominals and long sinewy limbs. He is naked except for a flimsy breechcloth that barely covers his massively hung thick cock, hanging limp with the giant head poking out from underneath the cloth. His thick untrimmed bush is sprouting up above the breechcloth string.
While distracted from tickling the nuts on a monkey in a tree (yes, spanking the monkey does come to mind), he unwittingly steps into a rope trap that quickly strings him up by one leg. Soon out of the jungle come the natives. Scores of them it seems. These are handsomely brutish black Adonises in their own right, naked from their burr-headed tops to their feet, with massive cocks themselves, hairless chests for the most part, and perfectly, exquisitely, sculpted butt cheeks.
They tie up their prey and bind him to a pole that they then carry to their village. Mike, as we'll call him since that seems to be one of Tom's favorite names, is hanging upside down from the rail, his hands and feet tied to the pole as it is slung over the shoulders of two of the natives. While this trophy white boy is being toted through the jungle, he can't help but have his face snug right up against — and inside — the ass cheeks of the native in front of him. And the big black cock of the native behind him has his boner lodged inside Mike's cheeks, all while he and the other native are shouldering the rail with Mike's body swaying between them.
They finally reach a clearing that has two sacrificial totem poles in the center, separated about six feet from each other and shaped like giant dildos. They hoist Mike upside down and spread-eagle him, with one foot tied to the highpoint of each of these totem poles and one hand tied to each of the bases. His shoulder blades are now flat against the ground, and his manhole is facing upward while his legs are stretched wide apart. He is totally naked. And he's perfectly positioned for the gangbang of his life.
The apparent leader takes the initiative and steps up to his prone victim, waving his hairy cock for all to see. He rubs Mike's ass a few times, then goes for it. He sinks that black shaft deep into Mike's pussy, the black fur of pubic hairs settling down into the moist dry crack of Mike's hole. He gives Mike such a rough raw fuck that he falls over on top of Mike, and decides since his knees are now straddling Mike's head, he'll just lower his ass down over Mike's face and force him to rim his black shitter. Other natives take their cue and proceed to do the same. They fuck Mike raw till they shoot their jungle juice deep inside his pussy, then slide down his body and lower their cocks into his mouth for proper cleaning and sucking before making him rim them.
Over and over this goes on, and it's hard to know how many natives have now seeded his mancunt. The fucking has been brutal, nasty and rough all along, and finally you see the two totem poles — shaped like magnificent phallic symbols complete with huge ballsacs — start to crack and topple. It doesn't take long before Mike is set free and stands erect, snapping the ropes that once bound him to the totem poles and swinging them freely in his hands as though they were whips. He uses them to such effect, and stands towering tall and triumphant over the jungle denizens in such a way, that he is now their master. The natives he was enslaved to are instead his willing servants — worshippers even — with many on their knees clenching their hands in prayer to this mighty white god.
He cracks one of the rope-whips still tied to his wrist and forces these natives to now service him. They willingly obey. They line up side by side and bend over, their beautifully sculpted bubble butts arched upward waiting for lube-free penetration from Michael. And his raging gigantic boner indicates he is more than willing to bang each and every last one of them.
But there's one very sexy, sensual feature that now accompanies Michael in every single panel the rest of the way, beginning from just after his brutal gang rape. And that is this: his pussy is leaking cum! And not just a little but great big gobs of what can only be manmade jungle juice spraying out while he's doing other things like bucking his hips as he fucks the shit out of native black cunt. It is all the more delightfully, deliciously decadent because you realize from looking at all the Tom of Finland drawings from the 1940s up to this point, 1972, that he has never before, as far as I can tell, shown semen oozing out a freshly fucked mancunt. You just want to slurp it all up.
Michael proceeds to ramfuck each native, grinding his bush into their butt cheeks and sweating profusely as he moves down the line, sometimes reaching around and presumably grabbing the big black cocks that were only recently raping his innards. As each native gets his fuck and fill, they drop on the ground and lower a hand to their freshly fucked holes, trying to soothe the pain they may have never before experienced. You definitely get the feeling from the sight of it all that these jungle natives were virgins when it came to taking cock anally.
Finally, in the last panel, which is blown up full page in this book, Mike takes leave of his captors-turned-captives, and while he looks like he's ready to swing away on a vine in classic Tarzan fashion, he turns to wave goodbye, his muscled arms and body as hot as ever, his ass protruding out and up in tantalyzing fashion, that native jungle juice still dripping out of the crinkly folds of his still gaping cunt (which you can now clearly see), and his cock hanging limp but as engorged as ever, this time with his own white mancum oozing down the shaft and covering his glans. The natives are on their knees reaching out to catch every last drop of this white god's DNA, and one of the black acolytes has his tongue hanging out, hoping, drooling, for a chance to get one more taste of it.
I'd be right behind him. Then offer myself to him and the rest of his tribesmen, gladly taking Mike's place. It is, after all, my ultimate fantasy. ;-)
_____________
Tuoko Laaksonen died Nov. 7, 1991, at the age of 71 in his native Finland. If you can, check out some of his art. It's male porn that requires your sexiest organ — the brain — to do some of the work. But it's so worth it.
(Note: The regular retail price of Tom of Finland XXL from Taschen is actually $200 but you can get it cheaper through Amazon.)
No comments:
Post a Comment