"I would no more quarrel with
a man because of his religion
than I would because of his art."
~ Mary Baker Eddy (1906)
Mind Caviar, Vol. 2 Anniversary Issue, 2001
Her cheeks are blushing, as are her scarlet, blossoming lips. These are lips you not only want to kiss, but you want to watch move, to watch eat, to watch speak. These are lips you want wrapped around your dick, your clit, but only after worshiping their fine plumpness, their ruby redness, and perfect shape. They are forever upturned in the slyest way, ready to quip a sexual phrase, a cute little joke, a "Hello, big boy..."
Elvgren instinctively knows it's often what you don't see that drives a person wild. Roxanne playfully holds her lavender robe to one cheek. Ruffles of light purple chiffon cascade down her angled body, barely cover her ample breast, hide her cute little navel, fall across her redheaded quim. These are erotic parts you cannot see on the page, but you know they are there just from what the artist has skillfully left out of the picture.
Roxanne is wearing nothing but a single pair of lacy, sheer lavender panties, which match her robe. You can see her luscious skin right through every lacy detail of the fabric, the delicate seam. You can see it all except for that confounded robe which covers her there, her beautiful redheaded pussy. Lips like sugar, wet with desire, wet for every man, for everyone, wet for me.
Her legs, too, are skillfully formed: just enough meat to make them curve in the exacting places. Her thighs, a little heavy and definitely lush, are ready to spread open. Her calves, slender and curved to perfection, end in petite, shapely feet sporting slip-on satin heels adorned with pink fur pom poms. Even her shoes were made for fucking in. No woman would dare wear such delicate heels out of the bedroom. And with Roxanne, you wouldn't want her to ever leave your bedroom, now would you?
Her brown eyes are forever wide, admiring the length and girth of our cocks and clits. Her red-tipped nails are always ready to take the tip of our sex tenderly into her mouth. She'd swallow us all whole, and never let us go until we came, and came, over and over again.
And, oh, Roxanne, how we long to take away your lavender robe, to let our hands fall across your perfect peachy breasts, to suck upon your coppery nipples, to bury our faces in your perfect round navel, to find your hard clit with our tongues.
How Elvgren loved to tease all us horny folks. Oh, Roxanne why can't you be real? Thanks, Gil Elvgren, for making Roxanne belong to us all, to everyone, forever.
Copyright © 2001 Jamie
Joy Gatto. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.
Visit an on-line gallery of Gil Elvgren's work.
Here's another cool link to find pin-up art from the 40s and 50s-- another one of my favorites is Rolf Armstrong!
Join Adult Friend Finders-- World's Largest FREE Personals Site
Creme de la Creme
Caviar's Sister Sites
A Bi-Friendly Place
Favorite Adult Site
Copyright © 2001 Mind Caviar. All rights reserved. Mind Caviar is a working trademark pending registration.