Ok so I was looking for historical slang terms for penis (gotta be era-accurate when writing vintage dick jokes) and I came across….something
some linguist compiled a literal timeline of genitalia slang–a cock compendium, if you will–that dates back all the way to the fucking 13th CENTURY. This motherfucker tracked the evolution of erection etymology through 800+ years, because if he doesn’t do it, who else will? Thank you for your service, Johnathon Green.
Some of my favorites include:
Shaft of Delight (1700s)
Womb Sweeper (1980s)
Master John Goodfellow (1890s)
Nimble-Wimble (1650s)
Corporal Love (1930s)
Staff of Life (1880s)
Spindle (1530s)
As good as ever twanged (1670s)
Gaying Instrument (1810s)
Beef Torpedo (1980s)
and last but not least, the first recorded use of the word Schlong, which was in 1865 CE. Tag yourself, I’m Nimble Wimble
And are the lovely ladies feeling left out? not to worry! Johnathon’s got you covered, gals, because he also made one for vaginas. Highlights:
Mrs. Fubb’s Parlor (1820s)
Poontang (1950s)
Spunk Box (1720s)
Ringerangroo (1930s)
Ineffable (1890s)
Itching Jenny (1890s)
Carnal Mantrap (1890s – a busy decade apparently)
Bookbinder’s Wife (1760s)
Rough Malkin (1530s)
Socket (1460s)
and a personal favorite, crinkum-crankum, circa approximately 1670.
When she woke up she was sure she was a she, if nothing else. Not through the time worn rags she wore or the jewellery that rattled loosely on her bones but something inherently certain, in whatever a skeleton could have for a mind. She had woken from the stone floor covered in moss and loose stone and could see stars and night through the walls of what once must have been a magnificent castle. she recognised none of it. She knew she was a she and also, that she was not under the control of the being that stood before an army of those like herself, skeletons wearing fine but rotting clothes, a being dressed ominously in dark robes with great sparks erupting from their hands. Way to live up to the cliche buddy. The third thing she realised, was that she was hilarious. It was odd to watch the others fall into quick and accurate lineups, the same sparks rolling around their eye sockets, waiting for orders. She did not wait around to be noticed as an aberration. She snuck away, as quietly as a skeleton can, and took some armour and clothes from one poor, or perhaps lucky, wretch whose body was too broken to be reanimated. She only took a moment before a mirror to notice that she had once been a tiefling, horns broken and tail missing a few notches of column (though it swung and twitched to her satisfaction). Only a moment and a sly hand to take the handle of a sword that called to her amongst others in the armoury that she had found. A fourth thing she noted as she snuck away from the rallying cries of an army of undead. That this sword, gold of hilt but somehow green of blade, felt very right in her hands. Like it was made for her.
a dnd character i’m working on. She’ll eventually get the name Reina and she chooses the path of the rogue i think. She has no idea of anything, or even why she was able to resist the lich’s call. (this may end up being a story rather than a dnd character cause gosh i have plans for her).
Creator's Archive 