We’ve cut prices on toys throughout our collection! From the Elise Rechargable Silicone Vibrator through the Share Silicone Double Dildo, from the Wahl to the Tulip Silicone Butt-Plug, from the Reality and Intensity through the Iridescent Ribbon Glass Dildo, you’ll find price reductions throughout every single category of toys.
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Thursday, 27 March 2008
| 2:32 pm
| Toys
My first vibrator was a plastic piece of torpedo-shaped cheap blue plastic bought from a novelty store in the mall. My college roommate had the same one in pink. It was incredibly basic, inconveniently seamed from its manufacturing process, vibed with a rattle that was embarrassing (it woke up my roommate in the next room!), and was cracked and useless within a semester.
But, oh! The shape! It was the traditional vibrator shape, the Platonic ideal, if you will — phallic enough to be inserted, but smooth enough to pass for a “massager”, with a tip that’s slightly narrower to make sliding it across your clitoris down between your labia a delightfully easy proposition. I am a big fan of the traditional vibrator shape, but unfortunately too many of them are made without the love that more advanced toys are showered with. Not so the Bgood Vibrator! This is a high-end vibrator with a low-end price and a simple, traditional shape. The surface of this toy is slightly matte, giving it a silky soft feel against your own silky soft bits. Instead of a basic on/ off, the dial in the base of this toy gives you a range of vibrations from a teasing buzzing to very high and fast thrumming. And this fabulous vibrator is reasonably quiet and completely waterproof, which means you can use it in the shower or under the sheets and your roommate (or spouse or what-have-you) will be none the wiser. Comes in a black draw-string bag.
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Thursday, 27 March 2008
| 2:32 pm
| Toys
I suppose since I told you about my first basic vibrator, I should tell you about my first G-spot vibrator. But that’s an embarrassing story, from back when I thought all vibrators were created equal, long before I learned nearly enough to buy toys for Blowfish. Let’s just say the cheap plastic, overly thick shaft, misplaced vibrations and hard, right-angled head weren’t really doing it for me once I got my new toy home. The Bgee Vibrator is the antithesis of that early mistake of mine, and the gentle angle of the head and slender girth makes for easy insertion and manipulation when looking for your own G-spot. But don’t let me limit you in your experiments with this fabulous toy. Covered in a silky-smooth matte plastic that feels great slipping along your bits, the angled head snuggles nicely right along your clit or works perfectly cupped under a man’s cock or balls. The vibrations (which have a nice range controlled by the simple dial in the base) are concentrated on the head instead of the shaft of the toy, the better to drive your G-spot (or clit, or . . .) into a delightful tizzy. Nearly silent and completely waterproof, this is the G-spot vibrator my younger self sorely needed and my current self dearly loves.
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Thursday, 27 March 2008
| 2:31 pm
| Books
David Steinberg is known for vividly depicting of all types of people without resorting to sensationalism, and this latest collection is no exception. Divas of San Francisco: Portraits of Transsexual Women contains 59 portraits of the women who frequent the Divas Nightclub in San Francisco. Far from being headshot after headshot of your stereotypical campy drag queen, these women vary in age, race and body type in photographs ranging from reserved to sexy to casual. Steinberg captures something of the personality of each woman through the intensity of their gaze, creating a personal connection with the viewer. Allowing a glimpse into a world that few of us know much about, he helps demystify transsexual culture and presents these women as the normal, everyday people that they are.
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Thursday, 27 March 2008
| 2:30 pm
| Videos
Innocence 11: Brat is one of a series of pictures from Ninn Worx with “Innocence” in the title. Does the “innocence” refer to the spanking, the anal, the rough banging with dildos, the oral, the cumshots? Well, not so much. Perhaps to the prettiness of the costuming, or the youth of the talent, or — and this seems most likely — simply to the fact that these sets are very, very white? The scenes take place in a white nowhere space, with the only color coming from the performers, their clothes, and whatever furniture they’re using to fuck on. It’s kind of an inspired choice for the production, actually, as the whiteness sparks associations with blank canvas (with the sex as the work of art) and also the unfinished edges of a fantasy world in the mind, where the only details fully worked-out are those involving flesh-on-flesh.
There’s great attention to detail, as in the second scene, where yellow-blonde Angela Stone wears a red polka dotted dress, red heels, and very red lipstick. She licks a yellow lollipop that reminds us of her yellow hair, and as she licks the lollipop, her male co-star licks her. It’s nice to watch a movie where so much attention is paid to set and costuming, and that level of meticulousness and coordination is present throughout. The girl-girl scene has Renee Perez and Jamie Elle dressed in matching outfits, one pink and one baby blue, but the colors aren’t any indication of gender roles — they both give and get pretty equally, and there’s some hot stuff involving toys, especially a double-dildo. Sure, it’s glossy fake lipstick lesbianism, but these women are beautiful together, and it’s hard to argue with the flush in their cheeks . . . They may start out licking each other in a perfunctory way, but by the end, they’re sweaty and heaving and genuine. Alana Langford gets the nastiest scene (and the sluttiest lingerie) in her three-way, where she eagerly kneels and proves herself very hard-working. The guys are gentlemen, at first — they even patiently take turns pounding her ass! But, fear not, they join forces for a pretty thorough double penetration at the end. As for the other scenes, Sasha Grey opens the film in a frilly corsety thing with a skirt, and she’s definitely gorgeous, especially once she’s stripped completely naked. Alexis Love is in the last scene, with Nick Manning — who may be dressed elegantly, but has the unshaven face of a rogue on the third day of a week-long bender. It’s not an especially depraved or hardcore finish to the film, but Alexis is incredibly petite, and Nick pretty much just puts her where he wants her and does what he likes, which is hot. This is a good film with some great moments, impressive production values, lovely ladies, and sexy costumes. Come lose your innocence.
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Thursday, 27 March 2008
| 12:00 pm
| Videos
I’m not sure what’s so rebellious about Innocence 12: Rebel — it follows the same pattern as the other films in the Innocence series I’ve seen, not just in terms of set design (white rooms with spare furniture) or costuming (mostly very sexy lingerie), but even in the arrangement of scenes — first boy-girl without anal, then boy-girl with anal, then girl-girl, then a three-way, then another boy-girl . . .. but so what if there’s a formula? It’s a good formula, and it works. High production values, gorgeous talent, and hot costuming combine to give great satisfaction.
Denice K. is cute and flirty in a short skirt in the film’s opening scene, and she really gets into the blowjob. Amber Rayne’s co-star is bald and looks rather dissolute, but she’s cute enough . . . at least from most camera angles. There are some lovely close-ups of her eyes during the blowjob, and I thought, “Wow, she’s prettier than I thought at first.” But an unfortunate scattering of pimples all over her chin and on the end of her nose rather spoils the clean white fantasy aspect. Perhaps it’s churlish to mention such dermatological issues, but there it is. A little more attention to the make-up would have done wonders, and it’s really only distracting during close-ups on her whole face. The intense anal pounding more than makes up for any other aesthetic shakiness, though.
The girl-girl scene is better than average. Alana Langford and Lena Nicole are both fine to look at, especially Lena — I don’t think I’ve seen her in any films before, but I’ll definitely keep my eyes open after this. She’s got a beautiful body and a sweet face that the camera loves. Alana seems to think so, too, as she’s definitely more aggressive with Lena than the reverse — in the final moments, when they’re kneeling face-to-face on the bed and making out, Alana keeps trying to lean in for deep kisses while Lena coyly pulls back and only lets her have little ones. They should have called this Innocence: Tease, but that’s probably being reserved for a future installment.
Presley Maddox finishes up the film on a tremendous high note. Her strutting in pink lingerie is perfectly standard by now, but once she starts fucking, it’s clear she’s something special. Porn performers quite often look like they’re fucking for a paycheck, but she looks like she’s fucking for the pure joy of it — perhaps even out of obsessive need. Her energy level is so high it lifts the whole film, and her male co-star, while initially a bit aloof, soon realizes he’s got a fireball on his hands, and gives his all, too. Sometimes actors achieve a wonderful sort of chemistry on screen, responding to one another instinctively and creating their own utterly convincing reality within the work . . . but that’s not the sort of thespian chemistry you often see in porn. It’s present here, though. They look like they’re fucking each other just as hard as they can because they need to do it. (The fact that she’s gorgeous and has pierced nipples doesn’t hurt. The fact that he occasionally mugs for the camera during blowjobs doesn’t help. But on balance, still very impressive.) This is a worthy entry in a very fine series, glossy and sexy, so don’t rebel — give it a look.
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Last week I discussed some recent intersections of science and sexuality, and this week I revisit the same topic, with a bit more . . . eclecticism. First up, some scientific proof to back up all that anecdotal evidence that intense sexual attraction only lasts a couple of years. Researchers at the University of Pisa in Italy studied hormone levels in couples in the fresh bloom of new love, and in couples who’ve been together for a long time . . . and discovered very different hormones at work. After a year or two, the “love molecules” that make the early stages of the relationship so sexually intense begin to wane, and are replaced by our old friend oxytocin — the “cuddle hormone” — which makes you want to snuggle more than you want to, say, screw against the wall of a freight elevator on your lunch break. The scientists in the article are afraid that some chemist might attempt to create an artificial form of the lust hormone, a real-life cupid’s arrow, to which I can only reply, “Well, duh, of course someone will!” Working love potions (or, at least, lust potions), here we come!
But don’t despair, men, if you feel the old sparkle starting to fade. The solution is to drink more! Turns out that daily alcohol consumption can increase your sex drive and decrease your sexual inhibitions. (Er, though, the scientists have actually only proven this with fruit flies. And most men of drinking-and-shagging age know that too much of the former can sometimes make the latter physiologically difficult . . .)
Enough about humans. Let’s move on to animals . . . behaving like humans! Like this astonishing photograph of gorillas having sex in the missionary position. It’s the first time this position has been observed in this particular kind of gorilla, and the first time it’s ever been photographed in the wild. (The female of the couple is also the first gorilla ever seen using tools in the wild, which makes me suspect she’s come kind of awesome sexually-adventurous gorilla genius — will it be long before she figures out how to improvise a vibrator using a beehive and a stick?)
Humans having sex is good, and animals having sex is good, but humans having sex with animals is . . .. less than good. In so many ways. One way it’s bad: letting a boar have anal sex with you can tear you up inside, so if you were contemplating such a thing, reconsider. Turns out a pig’s tail isn’t the only part of its anatomy shaped like a corkscrew — they’ve got decidedly strange penises, too. You don’t want to be like the poor Bulgarian farmer in that article, making sweet love to bacon-on-the-hoof and suffering rectal tears as a result. You can read a PDF of the original paper, which is titled, “Zoophilia: a rare case of traumatic injury to the rectum” . . . though I’d totally understand if you don’t want to.
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Tuesday, 25 March 2008
| 12:00 pm
| Industry
We’re very pleased to introduce the new column by Thomas Roche, The Pro Circuit. We’ve wanted to have an industry column in our blog for some time, but hadn’t found just the right person to write it. Then, in a flash of inspiration, we realized that person was right in our back yard, as it were! Look for this column every Tuesday.
BellaVendetta.com Suffers Necrolepsy, Still Looks Hot
Fans of gothic, freaky, alty-arty tattooed weird chicks may also be fans, whether they know it or not, of Bella Vendetta, who’s posed for many of the great photographers of fine-art perversion.
Bella’s site, BellaVendetta.com, is a refuge for such spooky topics as blood play and nekrofetishism, sexy horror-movie terror and erotic dental work. Bella has rather famously pushed the envelope when it comes to keeping the edge in porn and the ick in Gothick, not to mention the milk-soaked “blood orgies with gay men and porn stars” she promises in “mainstream” films like Troma’s Meat Weed America. As Bella told Abby Ehmann late last year, her favorite activities are “a bit edgy. I love knife play and weapon play, and of course I get completely turned on by blood” — of course! who doesn’t? — “I’ve always loved medical play and playing the part of an evil nurse, but I’ve recently become a bit obsessed with vintage dental equipment and playing dentist!” Porn’s Dangerous Dame Emeritus, Belladonna, was reported to observe “You do some freaky shit” upon spotting Vendetta at the recent AVN Awards in Las Vegas.
There’s more, oh, so much more; this is one freaky goth chick! But Bella’s obsession with weird sex is far from the cry for attention a disapproving aunt might claim it to be; Bella’s a genuine perv. For six years since the launch of her site, Bella has been the alternative to the alternative, providing perversity while everyone else in the alt-porn counterculture was out getting a new tattoo. And being an actual freakazoid is apparently how Vendetta pissed off the bankers.
In an announcement on BellaVendetta.com, Bella disclosed that the site had lost its billing provider due to the outré nature of its purveyances. In deciding whether to continue, Bella realized “I cannot show the blood play, nekro fetish and other ‘Extreme Content.’ . . .If I remove all that content and keep the site gong as another fetish or glam site, that would just kill me inside. There’s already plenty of those sites all over the internet.” Vendetta’s decided, therefore, to take down the site, absent any censorship from web hosting providers or pressure from government or law enforcement.
(For the record, I don’t believe there can ever be too many naked, pierced tattooed freaks on the internet . . . every budding Morticia who appears on Bella’s site or elsewhere is one fewer to fuel the giant death engine of SuicideGirls — but I digress.)
Vendetta is far from the first creative victim of billing restrictions. Hardcore bondage porn fans may remember the plight of legendary site Insex.com, which also “did some freaky shit,” to put it mildly. The site, which featured seriously extreme bondage and humiliation of females — and later spun off a site with male bottoms — reportedly felt it was running potentially afoul of U.S. federal law enforcement after a Justice Department initiative in August 2005 in which sadomasochistic content would be targeted for obscenity prosecution. A posting on the site said that “while [Insex.com producer] Intersec is certain that a potential prosecution would have no chance of success . . . the staff is unwilling to fight a lengthy and expensive court battle only to emerge victorious but bankrupt.” Insex.com’s content, about 500 films, was sold to a Dutch company for an undisclosed sum, and can now be accessed as the “Insex Archives.”
It surprised pretty much no one in the industry that Insex went out of business, given that it constantly pushed the limits of what had ever been shown in porn. Whether or not Insex was to run afoul of the G-men, it’s widely murmured in the industry that the sale was precipitated not by legal pressure but because Insex lost its biller — same as BellaVendetta.com. In neither place did the cops come knocking at the front door, as they did with DVD producer Extreme Associates; Insex and BellaVendetta.com lost their viability not because what they did was illegal, but because they couldn’t get paid.
Anyone who’s run an online porn site knows that billing is king — if you can’t get your credit card billing up and running, you don’t have the money to operate a site. The idea that artists, especially erotic artists, should create stuff because they love it and should not expect to get paid, used to be pervasive in certain circles. That idea is not so popular nowadays — pervs are more likely today to see their perversions as potential commodities, and everyone wants to get rich.
But merchant banks and credit card billing companies hold the keys to the kingdom. Most explicitly ban adult content (as do eBay and PayPal), and those that permit it restrict how far one can go. My current employer keeps its billers happy (despite an oeuvre that includes some pretty edgy stuff) by emphasizing consent and safety, and providing explicit shooting rules to be followed by all productions. These rules make sure everyone, even the densest viewer, can access reassurances that this is all safe, sane and consensual, that it’s entertainment, not abuse.
Which is all well and good, but does a scene involving the ever-lovin’ and consensual fun of pervy nekrofetishists deserve any less consideration than an episode of consensual BDSM?
Of course not. That’s why goth-damaged freaks and oversexed horror fans everywhere should shed a bloody tear for BellaVendetta.com — the alternative to the erotic alternative, felled by the Satanic recitation of sixteen-digit numbers.
Bella won’t rest in peace, surely, because the pornographer’s grave is neither fine nor private.
Thomas Roche is the Public Relations Manager at Kink.com, an instructor at San Francisco Sex Information, and blogs about sex, drugs, and cryptozoology at www.thomasroche.com.
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In this episode, we have Nikol from the Midwest Teen Sex Show and Melissa from Sexerati.com in studio to talk about… well, about the Midwest Teen Sex Show!
Radio Blowfish is our podcast of products, news, interviews, and generally wonderful stuff. All you need is an MP3 player to join us!
Download this episode here, or subscribe using iTunes!
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 9:24 pm
| Toys
Who doesn’t love German engineering? The company who makes these new silicone wonders is known not only for their organically lovely designs, but also for their exceptionally quiet vibrators. The Delight is a graceful swoop of a vibrator, nearly silent in operation and discreet in appearance (especially when recharging). The business end of this snazzy black-and-white vibe is bent at a perfect G-spot scritching angle, while the handle swoops around and back the other direction for ergonomic manipulation — hook your first two fingers though the hook and let your thumb work the controls (which light up once it’s on; perfect for middle-of-the-night quickies). The curve also nuzzles up against your clit and mons once the end is tucked sweetly inside, making this a fantastic vibrator for grinding away on. Speaking of tucking, the Delight comes with a neat travel case that doubles as its recharger, so you don’t have to worry who’s going to see it while it’s plugged in, getting ready for your next rowdy session.
Like the design, but think the vibration might be a bit more stimulation than your particular G-spot prefers? Ah, well then, allow me to introduce the fetching Curve Silicone Dildo. Surely one of the prettiest dildos we’ve ever seen, the Curve is also ergonomically designed to take the pressure off your wrists while you’re working your G-spot. The curve of the Curve is along the shaft, instead of right at the head, which gives you more leverage when pushing it against that special area (refresher course: it’s a few inches inside on the side of the vagina closest to your front). The Curve is also wider at the head, getting thinner along the shaft, which leads to a nice, full feeling inside. Mmm! It’s got a raised wave along that shaft for extra texture, and a pretty little curl of a handle at the end to hook your fingers in. Oh, she’s a flirtatious little toy; she might know how lovely she is, but how can you resist those curves?
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 9:24 pm
| Events
We’re extremely proud to announce that The Crash Pad Series Volume 1, the follow-up to the award-winning, best-selling The Crash Pad, has been nominated for the Feminist Porn Awards at the 2008 ceremony! We’re fully expecting another victory, after she walked away with awards for The Crash Pad, Superfreak, and In Search of the Wild Kingdom in 2006 and 2007!
The stories of the sexiest apartment in the world continues in The Crash Pad Series Volume 1, featuring episodes from the Crash Pad Series website. Shine Louise Houston returns to the world of the hookup pad with just a few rules to give us five more extremely hot, very real lesbian and queer sex scenes as only she can. Femme, butch, boi, pretty much everything is on view here. We have some returning performers from the original movie (Shawn, Jiz Lee, and Dylan Ryan), and some visiting the Crash Pad for the first time.
Congratulations, Shine!
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 9:23 pm
| Toys
For those of you who like something with a little more history, we have a new size of our verrry popular Nexus Silicone Double Dildo! The Nexus Maximus Silicone Double Dildo is very similar to the Nexus Sr. — made out of the same medical-grade silicone (though in gorgeous ivory shimmer instead of purple marble) and with the same, thank-goodness-someone-with-a-vagina-finally-designed-a -double-dildo fuckable angle — the Nexus Maximus is made just a bit longer than the Nexus Sr. without adding much in the way of extra girth. This means it’s not made for size queens (well, not girth-oriented size queens), but is instead a perfect solution for those who found the older models just a bit too short to reach those vital nooks and crannies. Because the Nexus is designed to work in a harness, this means that some of the length is going to be taken up by the leather (or pleather or rope, etc.) that holds it to your body. The Nexus Maximus gives you another 1/2″ total reach, which can be crucial in getting in just where you want to go. It’s also, and I speak here from experience, a godsend if you and/or your partner is carrying some extra padding (for the same reason). And, best of all, they fancied up this version even more by adding a notch at the join for an included bullet vibe; it’s not going to translate up the shafts too much, but the vibrations are strongest right where your clit (and your partner’s, if you’re using it with a woman) hits against the toy, which is just the extra bit of stimulation to help push you over the edge into blisstown. A really excellent redesign on an old favorite!
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 9:22 pm
| Comix
There’s something about Erotic Comics that is just so hot. Maybe it’s the visual combined with the literary, the way a good artist/ writer team can focus your attention on a hot little detail that you might have missed otherwise. If you’ve been meaning to pick up an erotic comic but have no idea where to start, or if you’re a longtime fan and want to collect old favorites while getting ideas for new titles, this is the book for you. Best Erotic Comics 2008 has a bit of everything: vanilla to extremely kinky, gay to straight, romantically touching to emotionally troubling and pretty much anything else you can think of. Edited by former Blowfishie Greta Christina, the selection is eclectic and absolutely top notch; every single piece here is sizzling hot but full of literary merit; your time is well-spent wanking, er, reading over these brilliant graphic stories. Two fins up!
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 9:20 pm
| Books
Many of you have asked if there is a book about Electrical stimulation (or e-stim) to go along with our many lines of wonderful e-stim toys. The answer for many years was, “There used to be,” but now, my friends, it’s “There is again!” Juice: Electricity for Pleasure and Pain covers different kinds of electrical toys, electrical play and, most importantly, electrical safety. A great book to have around for both inspiration (there are stories, drawings and cartoons) and reference about all things e-stim.
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 9:19 pm
| Videos
Nina Hartley’s educational guides all follow pretty much the same format: Nina and some scantily-clad assistant give a 15 or 20 minute lecture on whatever subject is under discussion, followed by a couple of demonstrations of the same. This time the subject is female ejaculation, a once near-mythic phenomenon that has been the subject of many how-tos and educational videos in recent years. How does Nina’s guide stack up? Decently informative, and, as a bonus, pretty damn hot!
Mika Tan serves as Nina’s lovely assistant, though both she and Nina, oddly, say they’ve never ejaculated, which makes them rather odd spokespeople for the issue. But Nina’s as informed and personable as always, and she and Mika provide the usual lecture with fair aplomb, covering the history and physiology of female ejaculation. After 15 minutes of reading from teleprompters and pointing at diagrams and explaining how g-spot stimulation leads to squirting, sometimes, maybe, in some women, there’s finally a demonstration. Lovely corseted blonde Anna Mills climbs into a chair, puts her legs in stirrups, and Nina makes out with her and eats her out a bit before working her over anally and vaginally with a variety of toys — glass, metal, medical, etc. — to bring about the desired wet ‘n’ wild results. By the end, the set is pretty well sprayed, and Nina describes all her techniques in detail. The next demonstration has natural squirter Angel Stone with Trent Sulari in a much less informational context; it’s staged like an ordinary sex scene, complete with bad wooden dialogue. There’s fucking and sucking and dildos, and Stone sprays with great abandon — they’re both pretty well soaked by the time they’re finished, and it’s an impressive display. (Though Nina does point out that “porn star squirting” is often rather more dramatic than the results you might get at home.) I don’t know if watching this video will actually help you or your partner learn how to squirt (especially since Nina says up front that some people will simply never be able to do it), but it provides decent info on the subject and some hot scenes, so I can recommend it, if primarily for its titillating merits.
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 9:19 pm
| Videos
Look, here’s the thing — you already know whether or not you’re going to like this one. It is what it says on the box: a cumshot compilation. 50 scenes in a bit over two hours (so, yes, that’s about 2 and a half minutes per cumshot, which means you get a little more than just the spurt — enough to provide a little context, which is so important in these matters). If you’re the kind of guy who yells “Show me the money shot!” when you watch porn, then this is the movie for you. If you like plot, or continuity, or even seeing the same people on screen for more than a couple of minutes, you will want to skip it. What can you expect? Facial cumshots. Cumshots on asses. Cum on glass, which is subsequently licked up. Cum-swapping (a little). Guys shooting into a funnel in an Asian woman’s asshole. Multiple women taking cumshots from one man; multiple men dropping their loads on one woman; multiple men dropping their loads on multiple women. Pretty much all those conceivable combinations. I’ll say this for whichever poor underpaid film editor got stuck with cutting this movie together — he found great variety.
So what happens in these scenes pre-cumshot? There’s anal. There’s double penetration. There’s lots of oral. There’s a little bit of straight fucking. There’s group sex in assorted configurations. There’s Hilary Scott upside down in a chair, shoving a large toy in and out of her well-lubed asshole, while various men jerk off onto her face and breasts. Oh, and there’s armpit fucking. I have somehow never seen armpit fucking before, despite reviewing two porn movies a week, every week, even Christmas and Easter, for fifteen months straight, and there are two scenes with armpit fucking here. So if you’re turned on by armpit fucking and cumshots, my friend, you are one lucky individual. This is dirty nasty straight-up smut with no redeeming artistic or social value — and no apologies for that fact. If your favorite part of a porn scene is the sticky ending, you won’t be disappointed.
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
| 12:00 pm
| Culture
When the governor of New York resigns due to the revelation that he had sex with a prostitute — and a contestant on a top-rated TV reality show is found to have been a stripper — sex columnists around the world are driven to the stories like salmon returning home to spawn. So this is kind of an obligatory column. I am powerless to control myself. Can’t . . . stop! Must . . . blog . . . about . . . Spitzer . . . and . . . the “American Idol” . . . stripper! Send . . . help!
But until help arrives, I’m going to have fun with it.
Here’s the thing I keep thinking about Governor Eliot Spitzer. Yes, the hypocrisy. Yes, the irony of a law- and- order, anti- prostitution governor being caught with a hooker. Yes, the fascinating pattern of public figures in politics and religion indulging in the exact same tabooed sex acts they preach against most vehemently. Yes, the increasingly repugnant spectacle of the wronged wife having to stand by her man at his podium of shame. Lots of people have said this already, better than I.
So apart from all that, here’s what I keep thinking:
A weird part of me is glad he’s a Democrat.
Bear with me. My political affiliation hasn’t changed lately (except that I switched my registration from Green back to Democrat so I could vote in the last primary). It’s just that I’m starting to think that the “it’s always the right-wingers who are caught in the sex scandals” analysis — an analysis I’ve indulged in myself — is just a little too simplistic.
Remember Gary Hart, anybody? Ted Kennedy? Bill Clinton?
People screw around. People cheat on their spouses and partners. People — men, mostly, although a few women as well — have sex with sex workers. And politically powerful men have been screwing around with lovers and mistresses and hookers for centuries. (Politically powerful women, too. The horse story about Catherine the Great is an urban legend . . . but the stories about her many lovers are well-documented. IMO, the main reason we haven’t had a Congresswoman/ gigolo scandal yet is that there aren’t that many women in Congress. Give it time.) Screwing around knows no political affiliation. It is the spirit of bipartisanship itself.
I do think politicians and preachers have a weird connection between public sexual condemnation and private sexual indulgence. I’ve written about it before. But I also think this conclusion all by itself is just a little too easy. I think it’s important to remember that cheating on your spouse — whether with a mistress or a boy-toy, a lover or a hooker — really isn’t something we can blame on right-wing repression and hypocrisy. The repression and hypocrisy, I’m happy to pin the right-wingers to the wall about . . . but the screwing around itself, I’m afraid, is just human nature.
So what does any of this have to do with the “American Idol” stripper?
Here’s the other thing I keep thinking.
In case you haven’t heard, “American Idol” contestant David Hernandez was recently discovered to have been a stripper at a gay strip club in Arizona — sparking a ridiculous shitstorm of controversy in the gossip columns and celebrity gossip blogs, and quite possibly getting him voted off the show last week.
And I truly do not get it.
The wig-out over the Spitzer story, I can understand. The guy is married, and married people ideally should keep their promises about monogamy (assuming they’re monogamous, which I’m guessing Spitzer was supposed to be). The guy won office on a law- and- order platform, and spoke out with “revulsion and anger” in 2004 when announcing arrests in a high-end prostitution ring . . . so there’s the irony and hypocrisy aspect of the deal. And of course, the guy is — or was — governor, and is supposed to have something vaguely resembling respect for the law.
But I do not get the wig-out over David Hernandez.
As far as I know, Hernandez is not married, or partnered, or anything but footloose and fancy-free, and his decision to be a stripper affected nobody but himself and his happy customers. As far as I know, Hernandez has never tried to curry public favor by condemning male strippers. And while it could be argued that patronizing prostitutes is inconsistent with being the highest upholder of the law in the state — what with it being illegal and all — there is nothing I can think of that makes being a male stripper inconsistent with being a pop singer. Hell, it’s probably given him some performance chops.
And as far as I know, stripping is entirely legal in Arizona.
So what the hell?
Why is this a story?
Why do people even care?
Okay, I get why people care. It’s about sex, and sex is always interesting. But why are people shocked and scandalized? Why are people acting as if Hernandez’s naked stripper body has befouled the purity and high standards of, for fuck’s sake, “American Idol”?
A lot of it, of course, is just that good old American Puritan knee-jerk freak-out about anything to do with sex. But I think there’s something else.
I think some of what we’re seeing is a clash of cultures. I think there’s beginning to be a stream in American culture — especially in youth culture — that doesn’t see sex and sex work as particularly shameful. Blame the Internet, blame video porn, blame decades of hard work from sex-positive activists like me. But more and more, I’m seeing young people who are willing and happy to bare all on the Web, at a strip club, for the “Girls Gone Wild” cameras, whatever.
And I think the Hernandez wig-out is partly a reaction, not just to the sexy stuff itself, but to the casualness and comfort with the sexy stuff. Strippers — especially male strippers at gay male strip clubs — are supposed to slink off the world stage with their heads hung down in disgrace. They’re not supposed to prance around shamelessly, doing a bad Vegas version of a Beatles song in front of millions of viewers as if nothing had happened. (Or, for that matter, proudly accept Academy Awards for Best Original Screenplay.)
Well, I say good for him. I wish he’d been a better singer, but good for him anyway. I’m just eager for the day when senators and governors and Presidents are just as free to say, “Yes, I had sex with that woman/ man/ Olympic track team, and that’s nobody’s business but mine and my partner and the track team.” And then go on to sign farm legislation or crack down on white collar crime, as if nothing had happened.
Greta Christina, copyright © 2008. Be sure to check out Greta’s blog.
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Thursday, 20 March 2008
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Alexander Pope said that the proper study of man is man, and science does often tend to turn inward to human concerns. And, since humans are obsessed with the intersection of their genitals with the genitals of other humans, those studies often involve sex.
Sometimes the studies aren’t even directly about sex, but sex creeps in there anyway. Take, for instance, an anthropological study that suggests Viking Women Dressed Provocatively, in “imported colored-silk gowns adorned with metallic breast coverings and long trains.” Until now, it was believed that Viking women wore an apron and sweater over a linen robe, which hardly seems like the sort of thing to stir a berserker’s lust. New evidence suggests that “woman’s dress consisted of a single piece of fabric with an opening in the front. A pair of brooches, or clasps, was situated on top of the breasts to accentuate the wearer’s figure.” At least, that was the deal before the Christians came along — after that, the style was decidedly Convent Chic.
It’s unlikely that Viking women wore high heels, since they weren’t invented until the 15th century, and more’s the pity; there’s evidence that wearing heels can improve a woman’s sex life! (We already knew that women in heels could improve a guy’s sex life.) Besides destroying a woman’s joints and causing the occasional stress fracture, wearing heels “directly work the pleasure muscles which are linked to an orgasm” . . .. or so says Dr. Von Shoefetish. (Kidding. His name is Dr. Cerruto, which is a lot less funny.)
Speaking of orgasms (great transition, huh?), there are some really interesting studies being done regarding the Science of the Orgasm. Combine high-tech imaging equipment with sexual excitement, and discover what knowledgeable sex experts have been saying forever: the brain is the most potent sexual organ of all. Soon science may be able to discover the source of odd things like “‘orgasmic auras’ that can descend at the onset of epileptic seizures — sensations so pleasurable they prompt some patients to refuse antiseizure medication” or “the case of the amputee who felt his orgasms centered in that missing foot.” So if you “suffer” from such conditions, don’t worry, there’s hope!
I’ve got more links regarding the proper study of man, so tune in next week for more scientific goodness, including the limits of sexual attraction, how to regain the old spark, and, um, stories about gorillas fucking each other and a dude who fucked a pig. For science. (Well, not really, but science found a use for him afterward.)
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On the opening night of the San Francisco Fetish Ball weekend before last, some friends and I ducked out of the chaos of the fetish art gallery show at the DNA Lounge and hit the pizza restaurant next door. While we were swilling beers and bonding over the superiority of pizza with jalapenos, one of my friends observed something: That events like the San Francisco Fetish Ball — or any other in-person BDSM event — take on an eerie irrelevance in a world where everybody knows everybody online. You can put your whole damn life on your website or MySpace profile, as can anyone, and “meet” a dozen people and read a dozen blogs in the time it would take to wander through a fetish-themed gallery opening feeling awkward and insecure.
It seems like a cliché to say that the online world is the new social arena — but it takes on special interest to me, because sexual intimacy and exhibitionism go so well and so badly together for me.
Ten years ago I didn’t have a Live Journal and I had never heard of MySpace. I knew people mostly from the San Francisco world of sex-positive sex-ed, sex parties and pervy arts. In 1998 I was at least as social as I am nowadays, but I then tended to meet writers and artists on the printed (or photocopied) page before I ever met them in person. But writers are a small percentage of the people attending science fiction conventions, and an even smaller percentage of the people you met with their clothes off at a BDSM gathering in the woods. Most of the people I met either had day jobs outside of the pervosphere or were going to school for their second PhD, this time in Human Sexuality so they could teach Integrational Fisting Studies to a commune of transhumanist hippie punchfuckers in Humboldt county. Either way, most people were strangers to me until they walked up to me and said “Hi, I’m Spontaneous Starflower, want to smoke a joint?”
On the other hand, my writing was sufficiently well known that I frequently met people who knew the ins and outs of my erotic imagination intimately; they knew (or thought they knew) I was into necrophilia, guns, straight razors, anal sex, strippers, cocaine, unicycles, phone sex, the pleasures of physical intimacy after eight shots of espresso, and the Mile High Club. People I met at cocktail parties would make sultry references to old stories I’d forgotten I wrote.
The exhibitionist part of me loved this; a big part of what drew me toward being a writer in the first place was a desire to share my fucked-up adventures with other people. But the anti-exhibitionist, reclusive, user-hostile part of me found it creepy and weird that people knew me before I knew them. It was a love-hate thing; I adored and despised feeling like I had no privacy.
Many writers I know are like this; their desire to share their stories with other people is only enabled because they are intensely private people — but their intense privacy is only survivable because they are able to express themselves through art. For me, it kind of freaked me out to know that someone sitting across from me in a bar knew the most powerful details of my sexual fantasies. It partly satisfied my need for intimacy — but only party. And it made the three feet between us seem like a void I could never cross.
In my experience, writers who tend to write about their own lives are more likely to be comfortable around other people than those who primarily write fiction. But though I write a lot of personal nonfiction, I was never one of the former. I only started writing about my own life because I loved to write so much I had to stop making shit up or I would run out of things to say. I was always a reluctant gonzo journalist, and when I discovered I was part of my own story it was like one of those frozen moments at 3:45 am when I realize that no, I am not having a threesome with Queen Elizabeth and my college Environmental Studies professor — I am having a dream.
Now, when I am social, at least in the land of pervs, the playing field is much more level. Blogging is the order of the day; lots of people without public blogs as such still have MySpace pages or Live Journals with friends-only posts about their sex lives. My writing is still out there, but I also read an enormous number of websites. I’m probably as likely to know the details of a local perv’s sex life as he or she is to know mine. It seems to happen at every event, reading or party in the sex-ed, sex-positive arts scene in San Francisco: I meet at least one person whom I’ve never met in person before, but I know what her boyfriend’s come tastes like or that he recently installed eyebolts on the roof of his ‘82 Honda Civic. Whether it’s the Fetish Ball, a class, or a poetry reading, I spot people I know more about than they know about me.
Which is why such events feel strangely awkward nowadays, and I feel less like a writer than ever. It’s not that I feel uncomfortable knowing intimate details about someone’s sex life; it’s that the pleasures of reading someone’s sexual fantasies or realities are so intense, and realtime social interactions so phenomenally awkward for me. What I get out of reading personal blogs, journals and other confessionals is a quick path to a (sometimes) profound sense of intimacy with the writer — an intimacy that is neither comfortable or appropriate with someone you just me.
Ultimately, that sense is no different than the intimacy I once felt when reading Townsend or Califia or Hunter S. Thompson — writers who spoke deeply to me when I was at a formative stage in my life. But there’s a real-time aspect to the blog — someone can have crappy or marvelous sex from 10pm to midnight, and at 12:45 I’ve been profoundly affected by it if the person happens to be moved to blog about it and I happen to be sitting at my computer. It’s almost like being there. It breaks the literary psychodrama’s fourth wall even further that on reading about the person’s sexual experience, I can leave a comment (be it “Weird,” “Lame,” “Beautiful writing,” “Thinking of you,” or “Tell him he needs to buy you a new chandelier!”) and get a response back almost instantly.
Yeah, it’s almost like being there. The voyeur part of me loves knowing the intimate details of someone’s sex life in realtime. It’s an incredible taste of sexual intimacy — even if it makes the six blocks or five thousand miles between us seem like a void I can never cross.
Thomas Roche is the Public Relations Manager at Kink.com, an instructor at San Francisco Sex Information, and blogs about sex, drugs, and cryptozoology at www.thomasroche.com.
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