Nude Retro Pictures: Bare Vol. 7, No. 12 (December 1957)

This issue of Bare delivers precisely what you’d expect: bare naked ladies showing you their stuff. From the expert contortionist Donette de Lys to the Chilean stripper Xenia Monte to cover model Donna Long, there are enough nude retro pictures here to satisfy any man. If you’re looking for more girls, check out Delta of Venus.

Nude Retro Pictures

Marital Sleeping Habits (Jane Morton)

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Which do you prefer… twin beds or double bend? Your answer may very well decide your marital happiness

JOHN and Jane Morton were on the verge of divorce. Their marriage was on the rocks and it looked as though nothing could possibly save it.

As a last resort, on the advice of friends, they went to a marriage counselor to try and straighten out their marital difficulties. After hearing both sides of their stories, the counselor prescribed the following cure:

“Give up your double bed—and buy twin beds!”

Hard to believe? It happens more often then you think! John Morton was what one would hardly call a relaxed sleeper. He’d turn and toss in bed all night, and it kept his young wife awake, until one sleepless night she made up her mind to do something about it.

In retaliation, she kept the bedroom lights on all night long. In that way, neither of them got any sleep. That started a “free for all,” and an otherwise happy marriage was destined for the divorce courts.

The marriage counselors’s expert advice, however, did the trick. They each have their own beds now, and both are enjoying a restful night’s sleep.

Every newly-married American couple, sooner or later, faces the perennial question: “Shall we sleep in twin-beds or a double bed?”

Since the turn of the century, the sleeping habits of American wedded couples have been probed, prodded and polled, until the subject has taken on national and international importance.

It may sound unbelievable, but it’s true that bedroom habits of either the husband or the wife can contribute, however innocently, to the breaking up of a marriage. And divorce in this country has reached an all-time high.

Recently, a famous marriage counselor revealed as a result of scores of clinical records that “for every four marriages, there is one divorce, and also that two other marriage are often tolerated for one reason or another. Which leaves just one happy marriage out of the four. And, believe it or not, some marriages break up for as simple a reason as incompatibility as sleeping partners.

Other clinical records revealed these marital statistics:

Today, the average duration of marriages is approximately ten years. In a survey of almost 100,000 divorces several years ago, the marriage lasted five years or less.

It was also revealed that many wives, especially young brides, are hampered by certain inhibitions in their marital relations, despite their sophistication in other matters, often helping to wreck the most promising marriage.

Why the unnecessary inhibitions? Marriage counselors attribute this marital quirk to several causes—one being the fact that marital partners are still childish in their sleeping habits.

They hog the bed; they snore; they talk in their sleep, make whistling noises and otherwise behave in such a manner that the other spouse must necessarily stay awake half the night.

Is the single, or twin-beds, the answer? […]

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Bed-Time for Bradshaw (Joan Bradshaw)

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A gorgeous Hollywood starlet shows BARE’S cameraman some of the antics she goes through to keep that figure

There is a smoldering sexiness about Joan Bradshaw which makes every pose a study in personality.

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Miss Universal Joint (Donette de Lys)

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Cute Donette de Lys does things with her body that you couldn’t do with a pretzel

When it comes to being spineless—Donette de Lys, pretty show girl, has them all beat. There isn’t a twist or a turn or a contortion that doesn’t come naturally to this remarkable girl with flexible joints.

Playing the piano, for instance? Yes, why not? But use your feet instead of your hands, says Donette, and proceeds to demonstrate the feat for our camera. Such a simple thing as dusting the furniture becomes a study in contortion when Donette does her housework.

Try drinking your coffee with your head sticking out between your legs, or reading your favorite magazine while holding on to one of your feet. Miss de Lys evidently doesn’t believe in being swept off her feet, as you can readily see.

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Tangier Peep Show

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Busty Belles Bathe Bare in This North African Sin Town

IN Tangier, North Africa’s international city of intrigue and adventure, young women daily bask nude in the sun on “secluded” rooftops. They abandon themselves to it with zest and coquetry. Many bug-eyed and delighted Europeans and vagabond Americans who’ve glimpsed them “in action”—a la nature—will cheerfully verify that! Thanks to their handy binoculars.

Fact is, American male tourists and GIs stationed at North African airfields have no doubts about the “sight” they’re most eager to see. Not beautiful Tangier harbor in the direction of Gibraltar. Not the sunrise from the top of a Moorish mosque. Not the colorful alleys of the Casbah. Instead, just let them take a gander at the “nature lovers” atop a Tangier rooftop—and they’ll whoop with joy.

As an adventure-loving seaman, I not long ago joined the “sight-seeing parade” in Tangier. Having been tipped off what would “come off,” I—like the French, Dutch, Swedish, and Belgian men in my tour group—armed myself with a pair of binoculars.

On the first day in Tangier, the hot North African sun blazed across the sky and the siesta hour arrived. Near the entrance to the old native quarter, hordes of tattered beggars slumbered in doorways. I spotted rows of sandals parked just outside a Mohammedan mosque; and whispered murmurs issuing from it told me that the faithful were engaged in prayers (to their holy city of Mecca).

Our native guides (whom several of us had bribed) steered us past the shuttered booths of the money changers. Thence down Rue Mohammed Torres and into the sector of narrow alleys. A hush had settled over that area. We had been cautioned in advance to walk softly, and to talk in whispers—so as not to arouse those enjoying the siesta. In truth, it seemed to those of us easing along that murky, foul-smelling alley that the whole city was asleep.

How so very wrong—that assumption!

We were directed up a stairway, then into an ill-ventilated pension whose top room commanded a fairly good view of the rooftops in that area. As soon as we got our binoculars and adjusted them, what a treat was waiting for us!

Swarms of teen-age girls and young women—Arabs, Berbers, Riffs, Spanish damsels, French, Italian, and Greek girls, as well as two American dancers—were sprawled out, enticingly, on divans, hassocks and rugs! One sheltered rooftop had attracted most of them. Two smaller groups were doing their sunbathing on adjacent roofs.

Arab and Mohammedan dames had shed their “haiks” (veils). Some of them had draped their bodies in filmy silk wrappers. Even so, these garments didn’t conceal any portion of their bodily charms. On the contrary, they heightened the Arab womens’ provocative sex appeal. And what were the European and American girls wearing at that soak-up-the-sun session? Just dark glasses and their smiles!

It was evident to us “cautious sightseers” that the assembled women on the rooftops—of whatever nationality—were having the time of their lives. We heard echoes of their ribald laughter; and there was no letup in their rapid-fire chattering.

That “hen gathering” lasted almost an hour. It proved such a tantalizing peek-a-boo experience for all of us, that we later went around to the pleasure dens in the native quarter. Several of the sunbathers (from the rooftops) were employed there as dancers, singers, and entertainers. But now they were fully clothed; and, despite that, their physical charms were undeniable.

I lost no time in making a play for Yvette, a cute, flirtatious French dancer. Two presents I gave her pleased her very much. She later invited me to her hideout over in the old native quarter. She kept reminding me, all the while, that she wasn’t like other girls at her cafe-dance hall. They, she explained, would sell their favors to any man. She (as she put it) would make “Big Love” only with men she honestly liked.

Having driven that point home, she assured me that I reminded her of her lost sweetheart. He had been killed, she reported, while fighting with the French Foreign Legion against Riffs in the desert.

But, more to the point, Yvette filled me in on the details of the rooftop nude bathing sessions. All kinds of women enjoy them, she explained. Prostitutes from the pleasure houses, women of the world, dancing girls, a few European married women, and the plural mates of Arab, Berber, and Riff men.

They all mingle freely, naturally, and without suspicion of one another—there on the native quarter rooftops. They may not understand one another always—since five or six languages are spoken. Just the same, these common purposes motivate them:

To take off their clothes, relax, bask in the sun, gossip to their heart’s delight, and take men apart!

Yvette said she had here much from her American girlfriends about us males getting together for “bull sessions” in clubs, smoking cars, and restrooms. Laughingly, she compared our chat-fests with the feminine, nude-bathing sessions on Tangier rooftops. The gals, she grinned, would start a revolution if anyone attempted to interfere with their verbal jam sessions.

From Yvette’s hideaway, I was able to savor a closer and more enjoyable view of the second day’s sunbathing “seminar” on the rooftops. What astonished me was how many of the Arab and North African girls would turn up there dressed “fit to kill.” They’d be wearing the finest damask pantaloons, bright flowered ensembles, and the most bewitching “haiks” (veils).

Once out there, however, abreast of the divans and hassocks on the rooftops, they’d start “peeling off.” They’d go through that ritual artfully, and sinuously—rendering a more enticing “performance” than a Tempest Storm or a Jennie Lee on an American burlesque stage. What made it all the more intriguing was the fact that they were “off guard,” relaxed, and uninhibited.

Had they known that an infidel American was watching their “performance” from a room close by they’d have called all Allah’s curses down upon him. Then they probably would have grabbed their costumes and fled in a rage.

As it was, Yvette slipped up beside me—after I’d gazed at the sunbathers for a few moments—and reminded me that my absorption in other girls wasn’t very flattering to her. She didn’t have to complain after that!

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Sex Comes to Chile (Xenia Monte)

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Once staid Santiago now revels in revues patterned after spicy Paris Folies Bergere!

The Folies Bergere—complete with nude girls, can-can dancers and ribald sketches—has come to Santiage, capital of Chile, where once sexy shows were frowned upon. At the Opera Theatre in this South American city, a 27-year old French volcano named Xenia Monte has been packing them in. Formerly with the Paris Folies Bergere, Xenia has brought with her to Chile a group of dancers of both sexes from the French burlesque theatre.

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Look Before You Kiss!

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In Some Countries You Can Go to Jail for It

EVER since kissing first began it has brought trouble as well as pleasure to the participants. The Puritans of the seventeenth century banned all kissing between unmarried persons, and even forbade a man to kiss his wife on the Sabbath. Mussolini banned all public kissing in Italy, except at railway stations, as a Turin schoolmaster knows to his cost.

In 1939, while on holiday at the Italian Riviera, he was startled to have a moonlight romance in his car with his girlfriend rudely interrupted by a policeman. The offense was exchanging kisses with a member of the opposite sex on a public highway, and the fine ten lira. The schoolmaster obediently gave his name and address.

Two months later, he received his call to the colors and a summons to pay 20 lira for his kissing escapade. He ignored the summons and joined up, to be informed in a dug-out on the Albanian front that the fine was now 150 lira.

Summonses followed him wherever his army service took him, to Greece, and eventually to a Nazi concentration camp in Baden. Each time the fine was increased for non-payment. At last, after the end of the war, he returned home to a final summons for 5,500 lira, or else… He paid up, but not without national comment that it was a bit steep for the cost of kissing to rise by 54,900 percent since 1939!

It was in Italy, too, not so long ago that a courting couple were sentenced to three months’ detention for continuing to kiss in a cinema when the lights went up. They were arrested on the stop, and in spite of a defense plea that such kissing was “an innocent act of live” and not an obscene act, an appeal court upheld the sentence.

Kisses may bring changes in the course of history, even. When bluff King Hal wandered aimlessly in the gardens at Hever Castle, Kent, he turned a bend in a path and came face to face with Anne Boleyn. He kissed her impulsively, and so began her hapless rise to fame, which ended in another job for the executioner.

Young Valentine Baker, a promising British Army subaltern of a century ago, was the classic cases of a single kiss altering the whole course of history. Seeing a pretty girl asleep in a railway carriage one day, he bent over and kissed her out of devilment. The lady awoke, complained, and Baker was court-martialed for his ungentlemanly conduct and cashiered. In desperation at the sudden break-up of his career, he left the country and joined the Turkish Army, where he became a brilliant general whose skill brought Britain victories in the Egyptian wars of the 1880’s.

Nowadays those who kiss pretty girls asleep in railway carriages can expect to get off with a fine. A young Londoner who was bet two shillings by a friend that he would not kiss such a sleeping beauty was fined two guineas and costs for “assault and interfering with the comfort of a passenger.”

Similar reasons prompted an Australian shop assistant to lean over his counter and impulsively kiss a pretty lady customer as he served her. He was fined fifty shillings in the courts but years later had a pleasant shock when he was told that the customer had left him £20,000 in her will—because she “treasured that stolen kiss above anything else in life.”

In the old days penalties for kissing illicitly were sometimes more popular. Under old Roman law a kiss was a seal of betrothal—and had to be kept to. Charlemagne once caught his daughter at midnight kissing one of the Imperial secretaries. So as to escape paternal detection the wily miss had carried him across the palace grounds to her quarters so that his footprints would not show in the snow. The Emperor made her marry the fellow, so all was well.

Americans call themselves the “kissingest people anywhere on earth,” but you can’t kiss indiscriminately in the States, either.

One New Year’s Eve, Mrs. Olga Ferdena looked out of her New York City window and saw a handsome policeman on his beat. Overwhelmed by a sudden impulse to kiss him, she rushed out into the street and did so. “I had been waiting to kiss him for a year,” she told the judge.

“Two dollars’ fine.”

“Gee, it was worth it,” beamed Mrs. Ferdena.

On the other hand, a New Jersey Don Juan who stole kisses from passersby on the street was sentenced by the judge to kiss no one but his wife for a whole year. Yet when a Warrior, Alabama husband kissed his wife in the street, he was fined $7 there and then on the spot.

The kissing laws in the U.S.A. are clearly in a muddle. The practice is alternately forbidden and permitted, and different laws obtain in different states. A couple accused of public kissing in Central Park, New York, had their case dismissed by the judge, who told them: “Kissing is perfectly legal. It is in accord with the laws of Caesar, those of Justinian, those of Napoleon, and those of Central Park.”

But kisses must not be charged for. A Los Angeles man was granted a divorce because his wife made him pay five dollars for each kiss.

Not all the penalties of kissing are legal. Some are physical and even painful. No less an authority than the British Medical Journal told recently of a young couple in love who met after a long parting and an estrangement. They embraced so enthusiastically that soon afterwards the girl experienced “what she described as a sharp pleuritic pain in the chest.” It developed because she had fractured a rib. The doctor reporting the case asked: “Could this be ascribed to emotional trauma—could its cause be emotional shock?”

Even kissing children may be dangerous as a 55-year old London granny once found. Her two-year old grandson, quite a small child, hugged her good night so vigorously that he once broke one of her ribs.

Some might be inclined to follow the example of the Eskimos who haven’t even a word for kiss in their language. At least it’s safer!

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“Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Werewolf?” (Dawn Richard)

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Dawn Richard, rising young Hollywood starlet, could well be saying this these days, fresh from her starring success in a current flicker: “TEENAGE WEREWOLF.”

Dawn, a curvaceous bundle of femininity, is only 19, but has already created quite a small sensation in movie-land. Despite the air of cool detachment which Dawn displays in these pictures, she is a bundle of dynamic energy and is the delight of photographers everywhere.

There once was a werewolf named Joe,

Who ate only girls named Flo,

But one day he died,

Because he had tried,

To eat a girl called Dawn.

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Shark Bait (Donna Long)

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Even the man-eaters change their diet when Donna Long’s around!

In the California desert there are numerous spots where even in winter a pretty girl can find a friendly lake or a warm swimming pool to frolic in, far removed from the Hollywood variety of shark.

Fortunately for us, a photographer just happened (?) to be around the other day when blonde Donna Long decided to take a dip in just such a pool in just such a desert spa—with results that would have aroused even the most self-respecting shark, human or otherwise. We are happy to report, however, that Donna made it safely to land—unharmed and unscarred.

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Narcissa… Nightclub Nymph

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WANT TO SEE MORE?… turn the page

In nightclubs from New York to Los Angeles, Narcissa, exotic danseuse, is noted for her unique dancing style.

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Don’t Miss: Erotic Retro Girls: Bachelor Vol. 2, No. 3 (March 1961)