Goodenough Gismo

  • Gismo39
    This is the classic children's book, Goodenough Gismo, by Richmond I. Kelsey, published in 1948. Nearly unavailable in libraries and the collector's market, it is posted here with love as an "orphan work" so that it may be seen and appreciated -- and perhaps even republished, as it deserves to be. After you read this book, it won't surprise you to learn that Richmond Irwin Kelsey (1905-1987) was an accomplished artist, or that as Dick Kelsey, he was one of the great Disney art directors, breaking your heart with "Pinocchio," "Dumbo," and "Bambi."

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Masahiro Morioka


Thank you for talking about my book, "The Insensitive man." Your comment is encouraging to me a lot. By the way, the translation of Chapter 1 was completed. The title and URL is:

Chapter 1 "If Only They Wear Mini-skirts We don't Need Flesh-and-Blood Women Any More!?"

Please enjoy.

Masahiro Morioka

Chris Webb

I used to experience the emptiness, even disgust, after masterbating that you wrote about. Those feelings were entirely caused by the notion that I was 'sinning'. After decades of going to church I finally gave up on all the guilt and simply embraced myself for what I am, a human being. Masterbation now is just part of my rich sex life ... some of my most intense and satisfying orgasms come when I'm alone with some really good pornography. I allow the sexual presure to build and build until I cry out in pure ecstasy as I experience every nuance of the male orgasm. Afterwards I just feel great, clear headed, even thankful as I bask in the afterglow, feeling the warm wetness of my cum dripping down my body and breathing in it's full bodied aroma.

Sex with a partner is great, but so is sex with yourself, provided you love yourself the way you love a partner. It's self hatred that brings the sense of death and loneliness you wrote about. In those moments of clarity that follow the male orgasm a self loathing man can only think of how undeserving he is of such pleasure, so he converts the quiet peacefullness that follows orgasm into emptiness and death instead.

Even Jesus said to love others as you love yourself ... can a person who can't make love to himself really make love to someone else? Only a man who can enjoy his own sexuality can really be free to enjoy the sexuality of another. It is in exploring all the pleasure he can bring to himself that he learns how to bring even more pleasure to his partner.

Here's an exerpt of something I wrote describing the male orgasm: Tales from the Kilt: Breakfast with Candy by Chris Webb

As I sit to write this the musky aroma of my spent masculinity still fills my nostrils, emanating from the tartan cloth that makes my kilt. Only a half an hour ago I lost myself in her eyes, her presence ... I can only wonder, even hope, that she knows ...

The rain was coming down in sheets when I called. Rainy days always bring me the hope of seeing her and I swell in anticipation of it as I hear her phone ringing through mine. Already excited I feel the tell-tail signs of my own impending release as my shaft fills immediately with pre-come at the mere sound of her, "Hello." While agreeing when to meet the swollen shaft moistens at the tip ... I reach under my kilt and touch it, rubbing the clear and slick proof of my excitement on my most sensitive place, taking what's left and touching it to my mustache. The odor of sex intoxicates me.

As we talk more of her hopes and concerns my masculinity only swells the more, tenting my kilt under the table and causing the movement of my shaking legs to rub the soft cloth against it. Again I feel the length of my hardened shaft fill with the clear, smooth jell that helps me cum so hard when thinking of her. As I listen to the song of her voice my eyes dart towards her young, full breasts and pry into the darkness between them ... my own nipples harden as I feel my orgasm building ... she doesn't notice, wholly unaware that behind this fatherly appearance is a man ravishing her in his mind.

As my balls tighten in preparation of pumping my load against my thighs and kilt Candy leans towards me as if to whisper a secret, she licks her lips and touches the flexed muscle of my forearm as I move my hand across my lap pretending it was hers that I was feeling against me. I smelled her breath and looked into her eyes, glancing down at her soft flesh my heart pounded, my breathing quickened. As she leaned further towards me her hair brushed my upper arm and her perfect thigh touched mine ... I breathed her in deeply and held my breath, silencing the moans that were fighting to come out of me I lost control of my masculine parts.

She must have known my state of climax, she must have seen in my eyes the intense passion, intense release I was experiencing. My entire body tensed and convulsed as I pumped again and again my hot jism into the cloth of my kilt, its wetness pressing through it and into the palm of my hand. I came and came, counting the shots from the barrel of my discharging gun ... 8, 9 ..... 10, my balls pulled almost inside of me, my anus squeezing tighter with each shot. I finished off just as she leaned back into her chair, smiling. The odor of my cum wafted around me like the smoke of a scented candle ... was it because she knew how she had caused my release that her nipples hardened or was it only the chilled air blowing against her from across the room.

Chris Webb


What an intersting read. Thanks very much for brining to light a topic most of us never thought we could talk about. Getting over the angst of any type of percieved sexual problem is a huge hurtle for most males.

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