The best of this week’s sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks Gross Spelling Errors Turn Me Off
“Here are a few other word issues that come up in sex writing that throw me off and drive me crazy.”
L’Artiste
“I want time to sip my whisky, to drink you in as you unveil yourself, as you offer your body to my steady gaze.”
The best of this week’s sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks April Showers Bring May Flowers: Part II“As mentioned earlier, this is one of the biggest hurdles to overcome; this is also where mind over matter comes into play.”
Au revoir
“In the life of an eclectic slut, however, these are all warning signs.”
Ode to Anal: Why?
“Really, for me, it was the first, and one of my foremost, all encompassing sexual acts.”
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #129? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks Fellatrices: C-u-n-n-i-l-i-n-g-u-s
“Yep, sounds like the boyfriend needs a lesson,” she affirmed. “You just need to show him where to lick.”
In Plain Sight
“She was laughing flirtatiously and he had a look of a cat that’s about to get the cream.”
Succor.
“The act of suspension removed me from my ego and placed me at the still point.”
March 13th, 2008 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: March 20th, 2008
L.A. Bondage, Dave Naz.
Someone who’s better versed in federal kink than I am could comment on the validity of a distinct ‘Los Angeles’ fetish culture. As it stands Dave Naz’s newest book combines his signature sparse, natural light, erotic photography and his take on bondage which, if not indicative of an LA style, will help to define one.
The book, by Goliath, is a high-quality artifact, almost too small to be a coffee-table tome. Aside from being cheaper to produce than a larger format, I wonder why the prints aren’t bigger. Naz doesn’t shoot with a low-end digital camera and larger images are available in monthly magazines. Though the book’s easy to pick up and browse, it’s not a useful size for shared reading and, looking at erotic photography with someone else is how I’d normally consume material like this. It’s an expensive, and not particularly explicit, masturbatory aid.
The photographs themselves are excellent. If you know Naz’s work you’ll be imediately familiar with the style. Simple spaces, little make-up, and little focus on ‘acting sexy’ by the models. For a fetish book it’s radical. It’s hard to find commercial images of bondages which don’t carry a suggestion of duress. Models are normally presented as if they’ve been restrained against their will and effect expressions of fear and pain. Naz’s models just look as if they’re playing along. No pleasure or pain. Just a benign insouciance which enhances the feeling of voyerism
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)
The Mainichi Daily News, my breakfast read, reports that vaginal ejaculation disorder affects 70% of Japanese males. Men with the condition can’t decorate the warm room, having to finish by hand. Or kick the cat (which isn’t a metaphor but could be). Supposedly it’s a byproduct of masturbatory techniques which don’t feel like a vagina.
So that’s all of them then.
I suspect the article is just a link-bait/poor-research pie – but without that what would be left on the internet?
NB: I have no idea if the accompanying illustration, reposted here, is an ad or a cover photo. I don’t speak Mainichi.
When homosexuality was illegal in the UK, John Maynard Keynes kept a coded diary of his activities. The code’s simplicity, which uses ‘C’, ‘W’ and ‘A’ to denote events, hasn’t stopped the discussion about its meaning fierce.
C = child, W = woman and A = adult makes a lot of sense to me.
The people at More Intelligent Life (the website of the Economist spin-off) have many other ideas…
“His hand slid around the back of my neck and pulled me close – easily, no effort at all, letting me feel the power of his arms and the warm puff of his breath against my ear.”
It was a long night…
“I gasped as he slowly pushed in one finger, slippery with oil, and began to wiggle it and spread me open.”
Sex Worker Confessions: Gracie Passette
“But underneath it all, sex workers are all about bridging, in body & soul, word & deed, the irreconcilable differences between realities and desires.”
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)
January 28th, 2008 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: February 2nd, 2008
By opening its archives, the New York Times has created a mine of well written, well researched background information on anything you can enter a search string for.
If you’re interested in the porn industry, here’s a listing of some the best articles they’ve written on the business. There are many more if you dig.
(You’ll need a free registration but if you don’t think the NYT archive is worth an email address you’re a hippy who should get off the internet because you’re slowing the rest of us down. You have to provide more information than that to get a library card.)
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #116? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks Debauched nothings
“You promised me you’d give me your cock.”
Sex Trophies
“Inside the drawer are two pair of panties.”
January 18th, 2008 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: January 18th, 2008
The 1960 Aston Martin DB4 Zagato. 20 were built (should have been 25 but they didn’t sell).
The title of this post is misleading but too good not to blog.
It raises a question. What’s the sexiest car of all time?
I don’t mean ‘which car would you most like’ but, which vehicle, in its metal, has the ability to semaphore barely restrained sexual energy so powerfully you it’s almost arousing?
The Mercedes 300SL has it, almost any Lamborghini has it and Ferrari’s often lack it. On a more mundane level I’ve never been able to resist a woman in a primer-coated classic, and find that ‘Grandad Cars’ have a sex-appeal born of the ease with which you can have sex in one (thank you bench seats).
The beast above is the great Aston Martin DB4 Zagato. An English car in an Italian suit which can’t, in my eyes, be improved upon. Any ideas of your own?
..in Germany, they let brands take over the covers of Playboy and car maker SEAT, with help from Barcelona-based Atletico International Advertising, has one of its cars climbing the mountainous regions of a woman illustrated in the form of an elevation map.
The special edition of the magazine was distributed as a giveaway and was placed in the waiting rooms of German SEAT dealers. Not so subtly, the tagline translates to English as, “SEAT Altea Freetrack. Access All Areas.”
It’s pronounced see-at like bee-atch, not seet like teet. Seat are a European arm of VW.
Can you imagine being given free porn by your local Saturn dealer?
(I did get a hummer in a Hummer once but don’t like to boast)
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #114? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks A Different Kind Of Authority For Sex Bloggers
“As we sex workers, sex bloggers, and adult business folks swim in our ponds or spin in our micro universes & connect with others, we continue to build authority.”
“At one point she was straddling Girlfriend’s right leg, grinding her thigh against Girlfriend’s clit through her jeans.” Of sex and strippers
Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge
Her comments were something to the effect of, “No one wanted to see me twirl with tassels ~ on fire or not ~ when some girl was going to sit on stage and insert things into herself.”
Kofola, a Czech/Slovak Pepsi competitor, decided to boost awareness using a hot, female, body-painted vending machine and the natural power of nipples to draw a rapt audience. In a country where any non-beer based drink is viewed with suspicion this had to help.
You can improve your product design and customer service all you want but whatever you’re trying to sell – tits win.
Are things changing for the worse at the web's favorite sex-blog?
January 3rd, 2008 by Sam Sugar
I’m very fond of Fleshbot. It’s a true blog, i.e. a links list not a source of vanity editorial. I read it daily and avoid posting anything they’ve already covered (I know many of you read them too and try not to waste your time).
Recently they’ve taken on a few new writers and seem to be posting increasingly ‘advertorial’ posts. Today things hit bottom with this, a puff-piece devoid of any critical objective opinion. Bad advertorial (good advertorial is invisible).
I know the writer of the post, the company mentioned, the director and star of the movie discussed and while liking them all (Jana more than the rest obviously) can say this post is a waste of my time. In fact, a couple of these a day will have me reconsidering my feed-reading priorities and consigning Fleshbot to maybe/sometimes/never pile.
Am I over-reacting? Anyone else sense a change of tone and quality at the bot? Are they losing money and desperate to make more or just trying to exploit their success and missing the mark?
Max, Italy, has posted a mini-retrospective of glamour shots by David LaChapelle. My Italian begins and ends with “Goaaal!” so I can’t help you with the context but it’s LaChapelle, yes Pam’s included and yes, there are boys for boys who like boys.
Can’t anyone in porn persuade a celeb to do what they do so happily in the name of art? I vote for lobbying Kate Beckinsdale.
Happy New Year – after brief trips to Vegas, LA and Vancouver normal(ish) service will resume shortly…
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks Sex Worker Solidarity: Audacia Ray
“Visibility on our own terms and the ability to uses our voices (and other mediums of expression) are key to the progress of sex worker’s rights.”
So Many Men, So Few Sluts
“Everyone wants to avoid generalizations about men and women, yet they’re too powerful to ignore.”
This Time
“She had That Look, and despite my earlier fatigue, I knew what was coming.”
Why jack off onto your own magazine when we can spill the beans and tear the pages for you?
December 13th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: December 13th, 2007
Advertising agency Leo Burnnett, Buenos Aires, decided to stop pretending that ads for Hombre magazine should play to the publications hidden intellectual side, preferring to simulate what happens when hot man-fat meets recycled paper. The resulting ads are honest enough to win awards and send sales through the floor.
Wanking’s like picking your nose. Everyone knows you do it but no one likes it when you wipe off in their hair.
When Natural Doesn’t Feel Natural at All
“I’d kept mine neatly trimmed for so long, then cleanly shaved, that I couldn’t remember what I look like in full and natural form.”
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #109? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks From virgin cocksucker to blowjob queen
̶I love to play and tease with my hand and tongue, lightly licking, sometimes using my panties or another soft fabric to run across the shaft.”
Interlopers
“Oh yes, I’ve seen it all before, I know what you’re here for.”
Old Friends
“His cultured voice warm, approving, promising; it makes me wet every time, an uncontrollable Pavlovian response.”
"(Women) are not just there to be admired, they are there to be enjoyed." — Ellen von Unwerth
November 30th, 2007 by Sam Sugar
Elle Macpherson by Ellen von Unworth.
Ellen von Unwerth is responsible for a lot of the advernography in which celebrities disrobe to draw attention to uninteresting, unpublicized or bad, ideas. Like PETA. She’s also a fantastically talented shooter whose work covers a range of topics but who never leaves sex far behind.
William McFadden’s homage is pant-trighteningly comprehensive. Might be time to loose an afternoon…
Why someone decided to reveal Sesame Street’s Count’s hidden agenda via a clever piece of editing is beyond me, but now I’ve seen the proof I feel I should have realized all along.
If you lived in Sesame Street you’d have to wonder about that neighbor with the thick accent, taste for capes and large reserves of seemingly unearned money. I’m not saying it proves he’s a Romanian sex trafficking kingpin but it doesn’t not prove it and that’s science my friends.
MILF = Men I’d Like to Fuck
“He knows my body p e r f e c t l y and knows exactly how to make me squirm with pleasure and always knows the right thing to say.”
Reconciling Desire & Reality (part 2)
“The excitement of sharing her, the excitement of my arousal THEORETICALLY should mean a heightening of our own sex life.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
Our fearless leader tells me he’s crazy busy so I’m presenting one from the vaults.
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks Urgent
“Feel the electricity from my fingers as I peel the damp cotton of your panties away from your sex, as I ease them to one side.”
“Log paid his ladyfriends to smack their breasts for the percussive element on songs such as ‘Clap Your Tits’ and ‘Booby Trap’.”
Fans of Kool Keith, like me, need little more to commend a musician than a certifiable history of psychiatric disturbance and a fondness for tits. I’ve no proof Bob Log would benefit from an icepick lobotomy but here’s the case for:
He plays drums with his feet.
He wears a blue lame catsuit
He performs in a crash helmet with a telephone handset glued to it
Nothing further your honor.
His web-presence, which also has a hefty whiff of crazy, includes not safe for TV versions of videos for “Clap Your Tits” and “Boob Scotch”.
For girls it’s easy. If you’re cute no rules apply. You can turn up in a swastika print silk-screened in shit and people will still laugh at your jokes and buy you drinks.
Sex and T-Shirts are hard to mix. For girls it’s easy. If you’re cute no rules apply. You can turn up in a swastika print silk-screened in shit and people will still laugh at your jokes and buy you drinks. Guys aren’t so lucky. We have to try to avoid looking like a rapist without slipping into Hot Topic/hood of a Camero territory.
Digital Gravel are getting it right. “Sould” allows you to express a doubt that any of the ‘friends’ in your social network would take a bullet for you and wonder if there are any depths people won’t go to trying to earn an ‘add’.
“Kiss Kiss” doesn’t require much explanation. Fake porno kissing of the kind so many of us are sadly susceptible. An easy way for young women to transmit that ‘alcohol fueled lesbian’ vibe.
We’re doing this for the 100th time. That makes Sugasm the most effective online community of sex-bloggers who aren’t actively involved in having sex with each other in history. Kudos all round and massive, un-repayable thanks to the quiet and gorgeous energy behind the Sugasm Radical Vixen whose name says it all.
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks
Do you want me…?
“The shiver that runs through you tells me everything I need to know.”
52,276 gunners, 607,360 troops, 30,984 stormtroopers, 42,782 ship support staff, 180,216 pilots and support crew 1 vibrator.
October 5th, 2007 by Sam Sugar
Sex toys come in shapes as obvious as cock and as innocent as duck but never, until now, inspired equally by bowling and the deathstar.
It’s hard to know if the Vibromasseur is of a size where sticking it into your vag/man-gina seems like the most obvious thing to do, but they make a big deal out of highlighting the ‘virgin’ plastic and non-porous silicone used in its construction so have at it, the thing’s splashproof.
I’ve never really understood the pleasure of mechanical vibration but I don’t have a clitoris and know I’m missing something. The lack of any obvious pricing on the Big Tease Toys site suggests the Vibromasseur’s not cheap, but with glass dildoes going for over a hundred dollars a pop it’s not out of the question to charge for something with more functionality than a soda bottle. As soon as I get my review copy I’ll tell you all about it (in black please).
The Idler, a magazine dedicated to chillaxin’ (like that kids?), has published its ‘Carnal Knowledge’ issue with a cover by Damien Hirst.
To my educated eye I see a metaphor which shows America (the cucumber) trapped in Iraq (breasts) while trying to ease its passage with the blood, sweat and tears of soldiers and the Iraqi citizenry (the vaseline). Yeah… I’m pretty sure that’s it.
I’m still waiting for my copy but I can be pretty sure there’s sex inside.
Michael Sullivan’s movie, the Sex Life of Robots, has got so much press I haven’t bothered to pile on with my hilarious robot-sex comments or, um… you know – jokes about metal cocks and stuff.
Unfortunately the prudes at YouTube have taken down the nudity free film, so if you’re looking at last week’s links with your trousers down you’re out of luck. Thankfully Wired Magazine seeking easy ways to increase traffic from sex searches, in a service to transformer fetishists free-thinking art lovers has reposted the movie in whole. Normal service resumes.
Writing this blog is getting harder. Not for a lack of content, but as I find it harder to find porn I want to expose my psyche to and share with the public. Porn is broken but Michael Moore’s not about to make a movie about it (and, if he did, who’d pay to see a man whose ass has its own tidal flow talk to pornsters?). Like healthcare, porn won’t cease to be. It’ll just continue to become less like what we want and pay for, and more like an impenetrable profit engine controlled by large companies with little taste, understanding or decency.
It’s not that I have any problem with porn conceptually. It’s the product which is such a disappointment. Stupid people, stupid ideas and stupid attitudes. Sure I could tell myself the old first amendment trope about people’s right to do mornonic things but why bother when the material’s so painful to watch? What about my right to decent entertainment? Where’s the porn for people who don’t think Jackass 2 was fantastic entertainment?
The ‘good stuff’, subject of this and other blogs, isn’t so great either. For every Seska Lee there’s an alt-porner with a blog, an undergraduate understanding of feminism, and a chip on her shoulder about being fat cranking out unwatchable ‘alt-porn’ featuring tattooed hippies with such a shallow sense of porn history they actually believe their doing something new. I’m not jaded. Dave Naz, Comstock (you mouthy wanker) and countless independent websites I salute you, but why should the mass of porn be so awful and the best of it so average compared to anything but major studio dreck?
This attitude, which I used to think was mine alone, is well articulated by Don Hazen in “Pornography and the end of Masulinity” at Alternet. Like me he’s a hungry man, tired of kibble and asking ‘Where’s the beef?’ Why should it be so hard for any woman who’s not actively turned on by being degraded and roughed up to find any porn she’s into and why should not craving violence be seen as suburban? If it were a question of niches it’d be easy to counter. When I go to the movies I can watch something other than slasher pics, teen sex-comedies and sequels but when it comes to porn it’s increasingly a question of ‘…any color as long as it’s black.”
Increasingly I find the most interesting depictions of sexuality come from the mainstream. 125 magazine’s ‘Cinema’ issue has pictures by Rankin and others (shown here) which tell a deeper, sexier more interesting story in a frame than however many unnecessary ‘Pirates’ sequels will ever manage. Anyone without a tabloid brain can think more creatively than the people producing mainstream porn and the audience which loves what they’re getting is vastly outnumbered by those who’ve given up on porn or, like me, find it depressingly hard to sift.
by Rankin
by Rankin
I say it’s time for an Environmentally Friendly Porn label. Some way of knowing that material so labeled won’t insult our intelligence, artistic sensibilities or the people involved in its production. Nothing to do with censorship, just a mark of quality and a rejection of the prevailing younger, harder, nastier sensibility. An alternative to alt-porn, stunt-porn and stupid-porn minus a fog of pretension designed to hide its masturbatory intent.
Or how the British learned to stop worrying and start loving boobs.
October 1st, 2007 by Sam Sugar
…we developed a culture of naughtiness where the girl next door could, and should, be ogled not for art or beauty but simply for fun.
While continental Europe displays a fully adult attitude towards sex, and America’s is distressingly teenage, the UK hovers in a zone where almost everything’s okay as long as it can be laughed at or hidden. How we got so delightfully messed up is the subject of ‘Crumpet’ – a recent documentary which traces British attitudes to sexuality from the end of World War II till the present day.
Emulating American culture on post-war budget, in a world when American and UK artists could have separate hits singing the same song simply because people didn’t know what was happening on the other side of the pond, Britons created a brand of glamour loved by people still eating rationed food into the 1950’s. Paired to a traditionally ribald national sense of humor, a then healthy home-grown film industry, and a pre-feminist outlook, which made it okay for women to exploit their assets, we developed a culture of naughtiness where the girl next door could, and should, be ogled not for art or beauty but simply for fun.
It’s a great show and a treasure trove of cleavage shots and sexy older women. I disagree with the host, the age of crumpet isn’t dead yet. Have you seen any Axe advertising lately?
Nerve, the sex site which isn’t, is offering proles like us a limited opportunity to explore the content they’d like us to pay for. Sure you can get all this for free if you dig/torrent hard enough but let’s face it, wankers are lazy (hence the phrase ‘lazy wanker’) and this is easy.
September 15th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: September 15th, 2007
As a sometime ad guy I have a passion for advertising which gets things right without trying. For all the time spent trying to be clever, being able to say something blindingly obvious, true, and previously unsaid, almost always makes you rich.
JBS Underwear have worked out that men,even if those men are being sold underwear, prefer looking at women than men.
JBS Underwear have worked out that men,even if those men are being sold underwear, prefer looking at women than men. For example, much as I respect the acting talents of Djimon Hounsou, I’d rather not have to examine his nuggets when shopping for Calvin Klein undercrackers. Pushing this idea to its logical, and ridiculous, extreme has produced a series of ads which are sexy, effective and memorable.
I’m not sure if women ever spend time sniffing lovingly at skids but the idea has a certain rustic appeal. This is obviously aided by images of perfect women dressed as fetish dolls and barely clothed. All evidence of yet more creative genius.
By way of contrast, and to prove the point, take a look at this comparison of photo-shoots on ‘Officially best blog on the planet’ English-Russia. I think the version featuring womens win it by a nose. Or something.
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks Cuffed
“She could see that he had something concealed in his other hand, but couldn’t quite tell whether it would be an instrument of torture or pleasure.”
Lunch Hour
“He’s very good, but I notice the almost imperceptible start as he notices what’s going on.”
About size
“But if we’re going to start talking about penis size, then it is only fair to talk about vagina size.”
I love Jim Skin. His website is a true original, he managed to get a significant mention in ‘Knocked Up’ without paying a dime and yes, he really does know all that stuff about on-screen nudity off the top of his head. Unfortunately Mr. Skin isn’t perfect, his site costs money and doesn’t cover foreign film with the focus it lavishes on Canadian blonde’s pretending to be Californian blonde’s pretending screaming with their shirt off is ‘the method’.
Recapped covers what Mr. Skin misses. It’s a blog whose purpose is to drive interest in the paysite, Capped, but which stands erect as a decent read and content source in itself. Mining French, Spanish, German and world cinema as well as television for sex and nudity it’s capable of turning readers on to media worth watching for reasons other than nudity, as well as stuff to endure for a glimpse of classically trained booty. You can actually pleasure both your brains simultaneously. If you’re a stranger to the charms of Emmanuelle Beart and Laetitia Casta your junk will thank you for the heads-up.
“And it was lovely, because the movements made by his fist inside me were so different to a cock.”
The Razor, the Tape and the Man
“He’s never known this lack of control, this unstoppable surge of orgasm, this wave of ecstasy soldiers crossing his territory.”
Sometimes you meet a meme you just have to throw your support behind even if in this case the behind doesn’t appear to need any support.
People have started getting naked in public and then posting the evidence to Craigslist. If this isn’t real, it’s such a wonderful idea I hope giving it my full support will inspire other people to make it happen. I promise to keep on top of this story.
Women should know most men still consider them naked in fuck-me pumps and make-up. No need to overdo it…
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #94? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
How To Set Up an MFM Threesome
“You’d be surprised how many guys will say they can’t wait to bed her down, then chicken out or not show up after you’ve shelled out money for a hotel room.”
Many of you will, like me, favor cock push-ups as the best way of keeping your dame-drill in shape. Lying face-down on the floor and then lifting your entire body into the air with the raw force of your erection is simple, requires no additional equipment, and is a move you can also use while breakdancing.
If that’s techniques too advanced, or as I did once, you live somewhere low ceilings make cock push-ups impossible, this device might be what you need. It does nothing you couldn’t by putting a rubber-band round your member, or duct-taping marbles to it, but those can’t be patented and this can. Deservedly not available in any stores anywhere. (Link)
Fashion is never more appealing than when embodied by half naked women in heels, which makes Cosmopolitan’s “famous” Lingerie Fashion Show very appealing indeed. Unlikely to sell much underwear to any women who doesn’t look like a lingerie model, lingerie catwalk shows seem designed solely to arouse photographers, legitimize the sexualization of teenage girls and provide blog meat for those in need of a traffic spike.
You’re welcome.
This is extra dirty if you imagine all the white models have racist pro-apartheid fathers and are grudge-fucking you in order to piss him off. At least that’s their plan until your impassioned post coital monologues on freedom and equality make it impossible for them not to fall in love, making a showdown with the man she still calls ‘Papa’ impossible to avoid… (to be continued.)
If the Franklin Mint’s ongoing refusal to knock out a set of ‘Porn Pioneers’ plates – which could start with Nina Hartley and Dave Cummings posed as American Gothic – frustrates you, Neal Mather has come to the rescue. Along with the ‘Julie Strain in a metal Bikini’ fantasy art we all know and love, Iconia also produce figures posed with working clocks (that’s ‘clocks’ with an ‘l’) which each come with a pervert approved backstory:
The cute and blushing maid appears with a tray of delights including a dildo, ball gag and spanking paddle. A spilt cup sits atop the bedroom cabinet and a smashed plate is on the floor. Was it the clumsy Maid or the startled Master? Who’s doing what to whom, and with what? You decide!
Remember to list as ‘art collectibles’ on your household insurance, not ‘porn stash’.
Inflatable sex-dolls are a sexual urban myth. On sale in every sticky-floored emporium on earth, no one will you’d let babysit will admit to buying one. Even the curious suspect humping one would feel like making love to a balloon, an impression which is only confirmed if you’ve seen one inflated.
“Dolly” a wearable rubber doll catsuit by Liq-Laq gets round the realism problem by putting real working vagina where the balloon-opening normally goes, or beans and a frank if you buy the version aimed at men. It’s a fully enclosed wearable sex-doll outfit whose superficial lack of realism vaults it from fetishwear to art-piece in a single bound. It’s the kind of thing Jeff Koons would charge you money to see on display, making the £350 (~$700) asking price a bargain.
This will probably become a porn-movie staple in pretty short order so before that happens I’m going to jokingly try and convince one of the ladies in my life this’ll be an excellent Halloween outfit so I can jokingly hammer at her in it afterwards.
NB: If you’re cheaper, or want to up the freak-out value by paring this with an outfit which won’t require a full-body talc application to get into, they also sell rape-my-mouth “surprised” doll-heads alone for £90 (~$180).
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks Fat can be sexy
“I understand what it’s like to be surrounded by images that reinforce that skinny is the ONLY way to achieve sexiness.”
Ursula Martinez strips back expectations with her clothes.
July 27th, 2007 by Sam Sugar
The disappearing silks magic trick performed again and again for an audience who are forced to go from wondering where she’s hiding it, to hoping she’s not hiding it in there.
In ‘Hanky Panky’ Ursula Martinez, an Anglo-Spanish performance artist, performs real modern burlesque, as opposed to the ‘marginally attractive people stripping’ which some people sadly now believe it to be.
As an out lesbian who “…sets fire to her tits…” Hanky Panky’s pretty tame but the idea’s undeniably brilliant. The disappearing silks magic trick performed again and again for an audience who are forced to go from wondering where she’s hiding it, to hoping she’s not hiding it in there.
Spoiler warning: It’s in her hand the whole time but you knew that right? Oh look, is that a coin in your ear?
In 350 bi-annually published pages ‘S Magazine’ mixes models, fashion photographers and high production values to create a large slab of coffee-table porn which relies on the quality of its photos, not overblown articles or self-censorship, to justify its existence.
One of the joys of being in Europe an environment where nudity and sex and deviance are all still seen as separate things. It allows us to mix nudity, sex and deviance without any of the guilt or annoying “Check us out and how groovy we are!” vibes of the militant pro-sex crowd (we get it – calm down).
S Magazine, the ‘Play’ issue
In 350 bi-annually published pages ‘S Magazine‘ mixes models, fashion photographers and high production values to create a large slab of coffee-table porn which relies on the quality of its photos, not overblown articles or self-censorship, to justify its existence. Hard to find but worth it.
“She performs astounding acts and swirls her perfect ass in circles, like the tassles on her tits.”
Nylon Whispers
“I run my fingers along every bit of my nylon covered flesh”
No Timeless Beauty To Conform To
“While fashions themselves come and go, so do the standards of beauty rise and fall like the heaving breasts of an excited woman.”
The ‘Copyranter‘ today posted that American Apparel appear to be out of ‘racy’ ideas in their new ad. I presume he has little understanding of the fetish world and doesn’t realize how many people think nylons over buns are as hot to look at as they are to jog in.
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants.
This Week’s Picks Kinky To Vanilla
“Now, each time we play with others, it’s a gift that further cements our closeness and shows us the value of our love.”
One For The Guys
“Get into the habit of building your sexual pleasure and indulging in it fully.”
When A Client Dies-Part 2
“As I drank my morning coffee I googled his name and “obit”. Up popped his obituary.”
In the Beginning
“The actual piercing was exquisite – one fraction of a second of pain, followed by a feeling of pleasure like I have never experienced.”
July 9th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 19th, 2007
My last attempt at buying sensible underwear (not the ‘Saturday Night Specials‘) was a disaster. I’m currently living in stuff that’s too thick, or too loose, or both. Which is why, as respecting your junk is rule number one, I’ve been shopping for alternatives.
In my web travels I came across the site for Ginch Gonch who offer a range of styles for men and women modeled by a raft of hotties in various states of undress. It’s not a po-faced as American Apparel and way, way gayer in feel (they advertise pretty heavily in the homosexualist press).
If you need a website you can visit at work for a little titillation, isn’t it time you went underwear shopping?
Will porn ever get as violent as mainstream horror?
July 6th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 19th, 2007
The ‘banned’ poster campaign for Captivity.
Torture-porn is raising the same questions in the mainstream as extreme-porn has in jizz bizz. With the UK release of ‘Hostel: II’, Time Out has joined the debate with a look at reactions to the new wave of torture porn which started with SAW.
The content of Hollywood and Jizz Bizz torture porn is similar, sexy women subjected to degradation and violence, but while Hollywood presents the torturers as evil (unless they’re called Jack Bauer) and its victims as sympathetic, porn presents those inflicting violence as the viewer’s avatar and suggests the subjects of violence are stupid, willing or deserving of the abuse they receive (hence the emphasis on women being made to ask for more and consent on camera).
Does knowing Elisha Cuthbert wasn’t hurt making Hostel:II ‘Captivity’ mean it’s right to treat its content differently to un-simulated violent porn (which we currently do), and if so, when porn films stop pretending to be documenting reality, and start to openly simulate violence, will porn get more extreme as once impossible fantasies are expressed without inhibition?
Are Hostel like movies with graphic sex-scenes what we have to look forward to?
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
July 4th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 19th, 2007
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks Ménage
“Sometimes, she’s even more the centre of things than he is, since she is a more recent addition to the dynamic, and since we both adore her.”
Money and Sex
“And then in walks sex, #1 potential button pusher of all times.”
Denied – 11
“There’s a click, and a lifting of restriction, and cool, soothing moistness.”
I’d hoped to talk to Violet about the book, but getting no response from Violet or her publisher I began to read further and now, the question I thought Violet would quickly put to rest, seems the only one worth asking.
Does the G-spot she writes about, that of “earth-shaking, bed-breaking, gale force climaxes” which “Any girl can (use to) unleash her own awesome orgasmic superpower”, exist?
Before I’m accused of being a Neanderthal misogynist I’ll clarify.
Ernst Gräfenberg, for whom the G-spot is named, made very modest claims indeed for the ‘erotic zone’ he discovered. For one, he didn’t call it the G-Spot, and simply described an area of erectile tissue that when swollen created a small sensitive bump in the vaginal wall. He said it was a ‘primary erotic zone’ and mentioned it was hard to stimulate in the missionary position.
It was immediately controversial. The G-Spot suggested there were two types of orgasm. The ‘immature’ clitoral orgasm any woman could experience and which didn’t have to involve the penis, and the ‘mature’ vaginal orgasm which could be experienced during penetration which was ‘deeper’ and more satisfying. Gynecologists refused to consider the G-Spot a fact without physical evidence, and feminists saw it as a huge step back for sexual politics for the very same reasons many men embraced it.
Fifty years on feminist orthodoxy has changed to the point where writers like Violet Blue are advocating views diametrically opposed to their forbears without a trace of irony.
Pleasure from vaginal stimulation as experienced by some women is undisputed, but the magic ecstasy-machine G-Spot which sells books, not the considerably more humble medical one described by Gräfenberg, is harder to explain.
The best evidence in favor for the magical G-spot comes from Italy, where in 2002 14 dead women were found to have concentrations of an enzyme called PDE5, whose absence is key to triggering male erections, in the area where the G-Spot is supposed to be. If the G-Spot contained a concentration of PDE5 it could be responsible for removing barriers to pleasure when aroused and if the Italians were right women taking Viagra, which blocks PDE5, should orgasm more easily and powerfully than those who don’t. Unfortunately every study looking at the effects of Viagra on women has failed to find a reliable effect and if PDE5 is responsible for the ’super orgasm’ it’s a lot more subtle than at first thought. Complicating matters further, the part of the vaginal wall under discussion also contains the Skene’s glands (also claimed to be responsible for ‘female ejaculation’ but not found in all women) and part of the clitoris (the most obvious candidate for orgasm in response to direct stimulation). Both are currently unable to support the theory of a G-Spot orgasm which is any ‘better’ than a clitoral one.
We know there’s something happening for some women around the G-Spot but we’re not sure what lies at its core (the nerves of the vaginal sphincter, Skene’s glands, the clitoris, erectile tissue?) or how it works. There’s no credible evidence the G-Spot is the ’super-clit’ many pop-sex writers claim, and the science which supports the G-Spot also suggests not all women have the organs and tissue we think it may be made of. If, as is currently thought, about two-thirds of women only orgasm in response to oral or digital stimulation of the clitoris, and women who’ve had the G-spot area removed surgically report the same sexual sensitivity before and after the operation, how important can the G-Spot be?
At best we have an area of increased sensitivity which only some women have, and which can’t be adequately explained. A lucky bonus which is capable of providing pleasure to some. Not a hidden organ every woman has and which opens the door to new avenues of sexual understanding.
Just as Gräfenberg said back in 1950.
Until the science is straight how are self-proclaimed experts backing their claims of a universal sexual turbo-charger? If they’ve only got anecdotes and other pop-sex authors on their side should we be listening to advice without evidence?
Behind the scenes of unintentionally sexy kids TV.
June 27th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 18th, 2007
Oxana Fedorova, Miss Universe 2002, now spends her days making dads kids happy on Russian TV. Whatever smiles her chest glove puppets are capable of coaxing from viewers, each shows happiest participant has to be the puppeteer who, occasional fart aside, gets to spend each broadcast pawing at her in fur gloves and eating ass.
I guess this is only sexy if you think about it a certain way. I’ll take the pills now.
The Anniversary Present (perverselypoly.blogspot.com…)
“But I knew that nothing would be more appropriate to the new path we’ve chosen than a threesome with another man on the night celebrating our wedding so many years ago.”
Finding the online arm of a magazine without a website.
June 25th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 18th, 2007
Front magazine, a UK based lad mag, doesn’t have a website but instead uses an official MySpace page to publish online. This fuckwittery strategy means their visibility in the sex bloggosphere is far lower than it should be. No pictures, no blog posts.
Thus I was pleased to recently discover their Flickr stream. It’s not in any way a website but at least offers a lightly censored was to get a taste of each issue without dropping the bucks on their dead-tree product, a nice bonus being the absence of commentary which might interfere with your enjoyment of their toplessbarnyardphoptography.
June 13th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 18th, 2007
Domenicer.
All I know about unsigned band Domenicer (”The most needed band in the world” according to MySpace) is that I can’t get the intro of their song, “Pornstar Like Traci Lords”, out of my head:
“Lick, Lick,
Fuck Fuck,
Give it up for cock suck,
Tits ass pussy cunt,
Wake me when you’re done”
Ringtone anyone?
Oh yeah, they’re on YouTube too but unfortunately I’ve yet to find a video for this track.
June 13th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 18th, 2007
According to fashion magazines smoking is the new black, and evidence of the mannequins diet – fags, champagne, diet coke (for nutrition) and coke (it’s the real thing) – is sneaking back into editorials. Fetishists rejoice.
A look at Helmut Newton's life and work through the eyes of his wife.
June 13th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 19th, 2007
Helmut by June is an HBO wankumentary shot by his wife and covering Newton behind the camera from his late eighties peak to his death at 75 in 2004. Though he never fully recovered from being daubed ‘the king of kink’ by Time magazine, a periodical which doesn’t know the difference between a hot lemon and a hot lunch, Helmut Newton did more to popularize softcore erotica and fetish than anyone in the last twenty years.
Even though getting people excited about nudes of Cindy Crawford wasn’t hard, Newton pushed far harder than many people know. This is a man who said:
“(models are) a commodity…paid to be made into what I want.”
Despite which deriding his work now marks you as a philistine, not a progressive hater of porn, regardless of the fact much of his work would only look out of place in Hustler thanks to its quality.
The Doc’s now showing all the time on HBO, don’t be put off by the presence of Brett Ratner, he really has almost nothing to do with it.
June 12th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 18th, 2007
A-Team meets Swedish Bikini Team type scenarios shot in small Eastern European countries where access to heavy artillery can be gained with a bottle of vodka and a flash of boob.
ActionGirls 2007 contains all the naked chicks with machine guns, sports cars, jet skis, tanks and bungee cord action you could want, and includes bonus ‘hot naked chicks playing basketball in front of elderly men’ footage aimed strictly at connoisseurs of old-man-chubbie.
If you’re new to the Actiongirls thing, they’re a hybrid website/DVD publisher who specialize in putting top-tier adult models like Silvia Saint, Veronika Zemanova and Erica Campbell in A-Team meets Swedish Bikini Team type scenarios shot in small Eastern European countries where access to heavy artillery can be gained with a bottle of vodka and a flash of boob.
Aside from the nudity on offer, there’s genuine entertainment value in trying to work out how many US laws would be broken if this were being shot in Idaho, and it’s refreshing to see high-end softcore material which doesn’t take think it’s ‘art’ and thus has to go heavy on the smoke, Enya and ‘psychodrama’.
The ActionGirls website is stuffed with trailers but they’re ridiculously huge (163MB anyone?) so I’ve crushed one into Flash (still huge but it’s worth it) for your viewing pleasure here. Now I need to find somewhere local which offers nude horse riding…
June 11th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 18th, 2007
Q: What do Drew Barrymore, Jessica Alba and Courtney Cummz have in common?
A: Tom Green. Barrymore married him, Courtney Cummz has probably slept with him and he washes Jessica Alba’s car on Thursday and she pays him a dollar an hour.
Aside from that they’re the most beautiful/hottest/sexiest people in the world according to People Magazine, FHM and least credibly WantedList.com. I don’t agree.
Porn and nude modeling are home to some amazing looking people, and off the top of my head I would suggest the following ten women all make Cummz look like a burns victim (nice name by the way Courtney, 100% classy) and a few of whom give even Jessica Alba a run for her money in the ‘Jesus can I touch it?’ stakes. I’m not even going to try that hard:
Different shapes, sizes, appeals and all gorgeous, but what do I know? I’m biased towards people I know/have slept with/might pay me/don’t have restraining orders which limit my movement and so I ask you. Who is the most beautiful woman in porn/nude modeling? (Extra cred points to anyone proposing someone really average who accuses me of being a body facist).
A Christian Domestic Discipline marriage is one that is set up according to Biblical standards; that is, the husband is the authority in the household. The wife is submissive to her husband as is fit in the Lord and her husband loves her as himself. He has the ultimate authority in his household, but it is tempered with the knowledge that he must answer to God for his actions and decisions. He has the authority to spank his wife for punishment, but in real CDD marriages this is taken very seriously and usually happens only rarely. CDD is so much more than just spanking. It is the husband loving the wife enough to guide and teach her, and the wife loving the husband enough to follow his leadership. A Christian marriage embodies true romance and a Christian man a true hero.
A cynic might say telling a woman she exists to cook, fuck and get spanked in the service of God – who on earth is conveniently delegating all discipline and pleasure to her husband – could be perverted by crazy people with less than Godly intentions. How the hell do these guys pull this off? I once told a date I was getting text-messages from the Thundercats telling me to chain her to the bed and give her a rum and coke enema and she called the police. Maybe I should have invested in some crotchless pantaloons and set the mood properly?
(If you find and CDD porn you know where to send it)
May 18th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 12th, 2007
There’s probably an important message in these images which addresses the infantilization of nation sunder threat, the eroticism of loss, and the sexuality of fear.
A little exclusive for you.
Justine Joli was asked to become the living embodiment of Israeli-American illustrator Kukula’s Kukulaland – don’t ask, it’s something to do with feeling five years old, sex and making money selling T-Shirts. She has obliged and the result is a set of striking, manga-type pictures which seem as artistic as they do designed to turn you on.
There’s probably an important message in these images which addresses the infantilization of nation sunder threat, the eroticism of loss, and the sexuality of fear. Alternatively it may just be a peek at the fucked-up-doll-world in Kukula’s head. Whatever, JJ looks hot, she’s half naked (her second most appealing look) and those breasts are a work of art.
The only other way to see these images is to Join Justine’s site (worth doing and no, I’m not paid to say that even if I did have something to do with how it looks) – her originals are more than twice as large and clear imagery is important for, you know, art and stuff…
(Pictures like this are how Justine pays or food, please play nice and don’t upload them to other sources. Link here if you need to – the bandwidth is on me).
May 17th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 12th, 2007
Last year, Polish nude model Jani Defi employed the assistance of a plastic surgeon to assure the public her rather spectacular distractors are entirely natural.
Putting aside that he might be the guy she paid for them, I could have provided a personal guarantee just as easily in under 120 seconds using only my penis and a cup of Mazola.
Regardless, a fantastic chance to indulge your medical fetish.
May 15th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 12th, 2007
Olivia is the best known modern pin-up artist, a very talented woman who specializes in painting photoreal images of unreal women. She works from photographs and uses a cadre of the best looking nude models to pose as the basis for her work, if you’ve thought some of her images look familiar your porn surfing is beginning to furnish you with artistic insights.
Models love Olivia, she paints perfection, doing an image manipulation job so thorough all that’s left of the model is how she wishes she looked and her famous images of Bettie Page present a taller, leaner, cuter woman several orders of magnitude hotter than Bettie ever was.
She’s just finished an image of Justine Joli she started working on in 2005(!) JJ’s cute to start with but this is really elegant and so beautifully idealized my commitment to a platonic relationship with her now appears fucked fragile. Here’s hoping it ends up on a poster…
May 14th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 12th, 2007
They clearly think the quickest way to bring a woman to orgasm is to punch her in the cervix in time with a sampled drum track while your friends hump the air and dance round your bed.
Pretty Ricky is a R&B act who like Little Richard, Prince and Outcast, are so overtly comfortable with their sexuality they behave in public like lesbians doing impressions of gay men doing impressions of breeders with priapism. Unlike the aformentioned musical geniuses, Pretty Ricky suffer from a talent gap, which makes it’s unlikely they’ll revolutionize pop but Today their name enters the Parthenon of internet memes thanks to an entry in their ‘Push it for Pretty Ricky’ contest.
In support of their new album (which is shit but that’s hardly relevant) Pretty Ricky asked fans to post videos of themselves dancing to ‘Push it’, their new single. Allen P. Hasberry (A.K.A Relentless), Anthony Terry (A.K.A X2C), Terry Vinson (A.K.A. PipeLaya), Orlando Cannon (A.K.A. Pre$$ure) and Desmond White (A.K.A Satisfaktion – I’m not making this up) stepped up to the plate with a group effort which single-handedly detonates myths about black men being sex Gods, underscores the strong homoeroticism bubbling within their friendship and guarantees they’ll all die virgins unless they change their names and leave town.
Their exhibition of virgin-tastic humping skills, during which in place of a drugged willing female volunteer they take turns to give it to one of their mom’s ottomans, exhibits a simulated depth of penetration which would only work if they have cock to the knees or know women with cha-cha’s like refrigerator boxes. They clearly think the quickest way to bring a woman to orgasm is to punch her in the cervix in time with a sampled drum track while your friends hump the air and dance round your bed. They are watching waaaay too much porn.
These guys will be answering questions on this well past the wake for the first of them to commit suicide. The first rule of ‘Bang the couch with your buddies club’ is that no one films ‘Bang the couch with your buddies club’.
May 11th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 11th, 2007
He argues with a sex offender who claims not to be attracted to his child by asking ‘Well what’s wrong with him?’ and suggest kids should be strapped to explosive canisters of shit they’re trained to detonate in times of danger.
Chris Morris is the UK’s least appreciated comic genius. His mediocre efforts (The I.T. Crowd, Nathan Barley) are funny and his best work (The Day Today, Brass Eye) still look cutting edge as they head towards their 15th birthdays. Like all the best comics his influence extends far beyond his audience and his old work bears repeated viewing.
When his 1997 show, ‘Brass Eye‘, (UK slang for anus) was repeated in 2001 he produced a one off special on pedophilia (love of small, round, green vegetables) to mark the occasion. Like most of his work it’s presented bone dry and the jokes are left for viewers to discern. Predictably, given the massive numbers of idiots who watch TV, much of the audience missed the joke (which was on celebrities and the media) and wrongly assumed Morris was making light of child abuse.
In the show Morris questions the response to an issue which is seldom discussed rationally. He puts people’s mad, fear driven, beliefs about the dangers of the internet on display, and is brave enough to ask how far is too far when he becomes JLb-8, a Eminem/Fred Durst hybrid rapper who unabashedly loves little girls and simulates having sex with them on stage. He argues with a sex offender who claims not to be attracted to his child by asking ‘Well what’s wrong with him?’ and suggest kids should be strapped to explosive canisters of shit they’re trained to detonate in times of danger.
People – many of whom didn’t see the show – went mad. Questions were asked in parliament, the tabloids did their idiot thing and the program was forever relegated to legend, DVD and the internet. It was and remains brilliant, uncomfortable, hilarious stuff.
Kudos to whomever uploaded it to Google video where viewing it no longer requires buying a DVD or learning how to grab a torrent.
May 10th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 11th, 2007
I’ve yet to discover a place in the metropolitan US where I can’t see the ‘Stars and Bars Stripes’ hanging from a peeling flagpole. To outsiders like me, used to associating flags with pogroms, facists and war, that level of universal patriotism makes us nervous.
George Washington too:
“Guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism.”
- George Washington
So I view the abuse of flags, of all nations, as a refreshing expression of independent thought. A flag only represents the person behind it, and usually they’re an asshole who wants to kill anyone with a different flag.
At Banners, Damsels and Mores (sic) what’s behind the flag is literally an asshole. This prime example of FrontPage era webdesign is committed to chronicling babes wrapped in, around and on old glory (despite everything models know about horizontal stripes making you look heavy).
After perusing the galleries I’m starting to think this may be stealth propaganda; right now I can’t think of America without getting a little chub.
(Who doesn’t love a site that identifies Paris Hilton as ‘heiress/bimbo’?)
The growing implications of a healthy online sex-life.
May 10th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 11th, 2007
It’s becoming increasingly common to hear about students, job applicants and teachers being ridiculed, humiliated or fired when their life online is discovered by those who stand to judge them. The once antique notion that someone might be ‘ruined’ has returned, and in the 21st century it’s not just single women and members of the aristocracy whose lives can be torpedoed by a poorly placed remark. We are snails. The internet has brought us out of our shells, and Google has provided us with a glutenous trail which can never be fully erased. What you say online stays with you and youthful indiscretions can no longer be forgotten in an age of camera-phones and file-sharing.
In the world of porn the implications reach far. Personal ads, adult site memberships and social networking profiles can all contain potentially damning information, and may all enter the public record. For the cost of a second-world data-miner anyone can connect the public and private dots which link our physical and electronic identities in ways we often don’t desire. If you think you’re anonymous, think again.
In five years, when teenagers who have never lived a life which didn’t extend to the wires cease to exist, the issue of what’s relevant, what’s private and what should be rightly forgotten will be raised again. In the UK, at the age of 16, a minor’s criminal record is hidden from view, effectively expunged for all but those at the highest levels of power. Online we’re becoming our own jailers. The web doesn’t care how old we are and forgets nothing. We’d be better protected if we sent our blogs to the local police station.
These are halcyon days, as the net becomes a more significant part of life anonymity will become less desirable and harder to maintain. Newsgroups were once so far underground you could plan a bank-job online without fear of reprieve, now they’re stalked by the FBI and everything edgy’s a trap. The freedom to expose ourselves we now enjoy, safe in the knowledge an obscure email address can’t be connected to our social security number probably won’t last long.
We’ll live to see Presidential candidates being questioned on drunken comments they made as horny teenagers, and many of us will be forced to justify stupid things we forgot we said before we knew we’d ever want to join the mainstream.
We have to start treating our private digital actions as recorded events we may have to later defend. More importantly, if your digital life is defensible, are you prepared to defend it?
May 9th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 11th, 2007
Babes with Books is a blog whose content is pleasantly self-explanatory. Though, to my knowledge, devoid of nudity if, like me, you find women with well-formed opinions cocksworthy the sight of a lady tucked between two sheets of fine cotton-bond can be irresistibly stimulating.
Some of the images here don’t count of course. Students are forced to read under threat of being cut off from parental cash-flow and anyone reading ‘The Da Vinci Code’ in 2007 has to find another way to prove their literacy. I’m not buying Paris Hilton and Sun Tzu either, but the woman dressed as a French maid while casually exposing her legs? I choose for that to be plausible.
Girls gone Academic for all the NPR listeners out there and it’s work-safe too (email me if you get fired and I’ll update this post).
May 8th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 11th, 2007
She’s never been naked on camera before and by the time Kern’s charmed her clothes off she’s happily posing for a porn magazine she can’t name.
Richard Kern is one of the few pornographers who gets to shoot hardcore while retaining his artistic and indie cred (it’s easy to have indie credibility but harder to be talented too).
For all my attempts to present the unvarnished business end of porn, this short documentary makes being a jizz-bizz shooter seem like everything you’ve always masturbated to thought it was.
Sophie, Kern’s subject and his fan, is too good to be true and if central casting sent me someone with her Amélie-meets-Emmanuelle French accent I’d accuse them of over-egging the pudding and ask them to provide me with a more realistic sex-kitten. She’s never been naked on camera before and by the time Kern’s charmed her clothes off she’s happily posing for a porn magazine she can’t name.
A leaked sex-tape in the middle east can be life-threatening.
May 4th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
Tehran, 30 April (AKI) – The culture committee of the Iranian parliament approved on Monday a bill sentencing to death producers of ‘pornography’, videos and films deemed vulgar by the country’s censorship. The draft law will now go to parliament where it is expected to be approved by an ample majority. Amateur porn films have a prosperous market in Iran and can fetch up to 30 euros each.
The market, tolerated for a long time, became a nationwide issue earlier this year after a porn film of popular television actress, Zohre Mir Ebrahimi, having sex with her partner, was released.
Is this story not being widely reported because killing people for the crime of holding a camera isn’t news? Or because freedom of expression doesn’t apply when sex is involved?
In the current so called ‘war’ between East and West, the people calling for battle have more in common than they think.
high-definition freebies from a porn content company.
May 4th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
He had opted for the undercarriage protection.
SoBeGirl.com provide content for paysites. Like any content provider they offer interested parties free samples so, for the two of you considering building a paysite, this page of free 1500 kbps hardcore porn clips should be incredibly useful. (I wonder if they offer a version without the guys creepy post-orgasm interjections, the last thing I want to hear when I’m vacuuming man-fat off my keyboard is some dude whispering “Do you wanna swallow that for me?”)
As for the rest of you wankers move along, there’s nothing to see here.
(N.B. The young lady pictured isn’t checking to see if her lover’s wiped properly, I think the term for the act she’s involved in is a ‘Donut Wash’.)
May 3rd, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
when it comes to the gayest music in the universe I’m more a ‘Destiny’s Child vs. Bronski Beat’ kind of guy.
Your reaction to this track will depend entirely on your age. The kids out there won’t recognize this as a cover, while the aging hipsters comment on how much they preferred the original. Well kids tell those old-folk to shut their dirty mouths because the original they’re referring to ‘Tainted Love’ by ‘Soft Cell‘ is in fact a cove of ‘Tainted Love’ by Gloria ‘I killed Mark Bolan’ Jones.
I fall into neither camp being aware the original’s a cover, and that the real original’s the best of the lot. Besides when it comes to the gayest music in the universe I’m more a ‘Destiny’s Child vs. Bronski Beat‘ kind of guy.
Darling.
Richard Grey’s video for ‘Warped Bass’ (the big speaker, not the fish. Pervert.) isn’t as explicit as some recent examples I’ve shared but sexier thanks to A1 models, seriously great lighting and a lot of “JAZZ HANDS!” dance-lesbianism which feels dirty because it’s supposed to be symbolic and arty.
If you know what Marc Almond looks like, the miming in this piece is pretty disturbing. Don’t visit his wikipedia page until you’ve knocked one out.
April 30th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
Blogs are plagued by self-censorship. For every son or daughter of Miller and Hemingway who writes how they live and lives how they fuck, there are a thousand who write expletives for people who understand them while substituting punctuation for lettering for fear of offending some sh!t’s eye. A feat of linguistic gymnastics which obeys the letter of a self-imposed prohibition while violating its spirit, as cowardly as it’s stupid.
Uncensor the Internet is a GreaseMonkey script, also available as a plugin, which returns bowlderised words to the English they once were. I hope people use it to re-post blog entries as comments and thus expose the idiocy of treating f#ck as more respectable than its correctly spelled progenitor.
Can someone work on something which de-mosaics photos and removes black bars from pictures now?
A bogus charity from the people who brought you human cloning.
April 30th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
Recent discussion of male circumcision here has provoked the kind of debate female circumcision never does (the stunning wrongness of amputating bits of women’s sex-organs is seldom met by suggestions it might be more hygenic.)
Seeing the ease with which a one-sided debate can organize opinion the Raélian’s, famous for holding the scientifically illiterate press hostage over a cloning story with as much plausibility as ‘Paris Hilton Patents Time Machine’, have decided to try again. Clitoraid, like Clonaid before it, is a front set up by the Raélians which, instead of pretending to clone humans, claims to be an attempt to prevent female circumcision in Africa.
Rather than waste time supporting some of the established efforts to raise awareness of the issue the Raélians Clitoraid has goes to the heart of the issue by making it easy to donate directly to singer/auto-journalist/saviour of humanity RaélClaude Vorilhon. He plans to build a ‘Pleasure Hospital’ where clitorises are surgically reconstructed by a Raélian OBGYN. Right now he’s only managed to build a website but if you PayPal him in Vegas, he’s promised to do it and as he only needs $70,000 so why not have a little faith? It’s not like they’re a bunch of crazy UFO worshipers with a Swastika in their logo.
Fuck.
I suspect your money would stand a better chance of making it to Africa if you rolled it into a tube and tried to convince Angelina Jolie it was a tampon.
April 30th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: August 2nd, 2007
The Whore of Mensa
A Short Story by Woody Allen from his book “Without Feathers“, Random House, 1975.
THE CLIENT
One thing about being a private investigator, you’ve got to learn to go with your hunches. That’s why when a quivering pat of butter named Word Babcock walked into my office and laid his cards on the table, I should have trusted the cold chill that shot up my spine.
“Kaiser?” he said. “Kaiser Lupowitz?”
“That’s what it says on my license,” I owned up.
“You’ve got to help me. I’m being blackmailed. Please!” He was shaking like the lead singer in a rumba band. I pushed a glass across the desk top and a bottle of rye I keep handy for non-medicinal purposes.
“Suppose you relax and tell me all about it.”
“You … you won’t tell my wife?”
“Level with me, Word. I can’t make any promises.” He tried pouring a drink, but you could hear the clicking sound across the street, and most of the stuff wound up in his shoes.
“I’m a working guy,” he said. “Mechanical maintenance. I build and service joy buzzers. You know – those little fun gimmicks that give people a shock when they shake hands?”
“So?”
“A lot of your executives like ‘em. Particularly down on Wall Street.”
“Get to the point.”
“I’m on the road a lot. You know how it is – lonely. Oh, not what you’re thinking. See, Kaiser, I’m basically an intellectual. Sure, a guy can meet all the bimbos he wants. But the really brainy women – they’re not so easy to find on short notice.”
“Keep talking.”
“Well, I heard of this young girl. Eighteen years old. A Yassar student. For a price, she’ll come over and discuss any subject – Proust, Yeats, anthropology. Exchange of ideas. You see what I’m driving at?”
“Not exactly.”
“I mean my wife is great, don’t get me wrong. But she won’t discuss Pound with me. Or Eliot. I didn’t know that when I married her. See, I need a woman who’s mentally stimulating, Kaiser. And I’m willing to pay for it. I don’t want an involvement – I want a quick intellectual experience, then I want the girl to leave. Christ, Kaiser, I’m a happily married man.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Six months. Whenever I have that craving, I call Flossie. She’s a madam, with a Master’s in Comparative Lit. She sends me over an intellectual, see?”
So he was one of those guys whose weakness was really bright women. I felt sorry for the poor sap. I figured there must be a lot of jokers in his position, who were starved for a little intellectual communication with the opposite sex and would pay through the nose for it.
“Now she’s threatening to tell my wife,” he said.
“Who is?”
“Flossie. They bugged the motel room. They got tapes of me discussing The Waste Land and Styles of Radical Will, and, well, really getting into some issues. They want ten grand or they go to Carla. Kaiser, you’ve got to help me! Carla would die if she knew she didn’t turn me on up here.” The old call-girl racket. I had heard rumors that the boys at headquarters were on to something involving a group of educated women, but so far they were stymied.
“Get Flossie on the phone for me.”
“What?”
“I’ll take your case, Word. But I get fifty dollars a day, plus expenses. You’ll have to repair a lot of joy buzzers.”
“It won’t be ten G’s worth, I’m sure of that,” he said with a grin, and picked up the phone and dialed a number. I took it from him and winked. I was beginning to like him.
THE SETUP
Seconds later, a silky voice answered, and I told her what was on my mind. “I understand you can help me set up an hour of good chat,” I said.
“Sure, honey. What do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to discuss Melville.”
“Moby Dick or shorter novels?”
“What’s the difference?”
“The price. That’s all. Symbolism’s extra.”
“What’ll it run me?”
“Fifty, maybe a hundred for Moby Dick. You want a comparative discussion – Melville and Hawthorne? That could be arranged for a hundred.”
“The dough’s fine,” I told her and gave her the number of a room at the Plaza.
“You want a blonde or a brunette?”
“Surprise me,” I said, and hung up.
“I shaved and grabbed some black coffee while I checked over the Monarch College Outline series. Hardly an hour had passed before there was a knock on my door. I opened it, and standing there was a young redhead who was packed into her slacks like two big scoops of vanilla ice cream.
“Hi, I’m Sherry.” They really knew how to appeal to your fantasies. Long, straight hair, leather bag, silver earrings, no make-up.
“I’m surprised you weren’t stopped, walking into the hotel dressed like that,” I said. “The house dick can usually spot an intellectual.”
“A five-spot cools him.”
“Shall we begin?” I said, motioning her to the couch. She lit a cigarette and got right to it. “I think we could start by approaching Billy Budd as Melville’s justification of the ways of God to man, n’est-ce pas?”
“Interestingly, though, not in a Miltonian sense.” I was bluffing. I wanted to see if she’d go for it.
“No. Paradise Lost lacked the substructure of pessimism.” She did.
“Right, right. God, you’re right,” I murmured.
“I think Melville reaffirmed the virtues of innocence in a naive yet sophisticated sense – don’t you agree?” I let her go on. She was barely nineteen years old, but already she had developed the hardened facility of the pseudo-intellectual. She rattled off her ideas glibly, but it was all mechanical. Whenever I offered an insight, she faked a response: “Oh yes, Kaiser. Yes, baby, that’s deep. A platonic comprehension of Christianity – why didn’t I see it before?” We talked for about an hour and then she said she had to go. She stood up and I laid a C-note on her.
“Thanks, honey.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“What are you trying to say?” I had piqued her curiosity. She sat down again.
“Suppose I wanted to have a party?” I said.
“Like, what kind of a party?”
“Suppose I wanted Noam Chomsky explained to me by two girls?”
“Oh, wow.”
“If you’d rather forget it…”
“You’d have to speak with Flossie,” she said. “It’d cost you.” Now was the time to tighten the screws. I flashed my private- investigator’s badge and informed her it was a bust.
“What!”
“I’m fuzz, sugar, and discussing Melville for money is an 802. You can do time.”
“You louse!”
“Better come clean, baby. Unless you want to tell your story down at Alfred Kazin’s office, and I don’t think he’d be too happy to hear it.”
She began to cry. “Don’t turn me in, Kaiser,” she said. “I needed the money to complete my Master’s. I’ve been turned down for a grant. Twice. Oh, Christ.”
It all poured out – the whole story. Central Park West upbringing, Socialist summer camps, Brandeis. She was every dame you saw waiting in line at the Elgin or the Thalia, or penciling the words ‘Yes, very true’ into the margin of some book on Kant. Only somewhere along the line she had made a wrong turn.
“I needed cash. A girl friend said she knew a married guy whose wife wasn’t very profound. He was into Blake. She couldn’t hack it. I said sure, for a price I’d talk Blake with him. I was nervous at first. I faked a lot of it. He didn’t care. My friend said there were others. Oh, I’ve been busted before. I got caught reading Commentary in a parked car, and I was once stopped and frisked at Tanglewood. Once more and I’m a three time loser.”
“Then take me to Flossie.”
She bit her lip and said, “The Hunter College Book Store is a front.”
“Yes?”
“Like those bookie joints that have barbershops outside for show. You’ll see.”
I made a quick call to headquarters and then said to her, “Okay, sugar. You’re off the hook. But don’t leave town.”
“She tilted her face up toward mine gratefully. “I can get you photographs of Dwight Macdonald reading,” she said.
“Some other time.”
FLOSSIE’S
I walked into the Hunter College Book Store. The salesman, a young man with sensitive eyes, came up to me. “Can I help you?” he said.
“I’m looking for a special edition of Advertisements for Myself. I understand the author had several thousand gold-leaf copies printed up for friends.”
“I’ll have to check,” he said. “We have a WATS line to Mailer’s house.”
I fixed him with a look. “Sherry sent me,” I said.
“Oh, in that case, go on back.” he said. He pressed a button. A wall of books opened, and I walked like a lamb into that bustling pleasure palace known as Flossie’s. Red flocked wallpaper and a Victorian decor set the tone. Pale, nervous girls with black-rimmed glasses and blunt-cut hair lolled around on sofas, riffling Penguin Classics provocatively. A blonde with a big smile winked at me, nodded toward a room upstairs, and said, “Wallace Stevens, eh?” But it wasn’t just intellectual experiences. They were peddling emotional ones, too. For fifty bucks, I learned, you could “relate without getting close.” For a hundred, a girl would lend you her Bartok records, have dinner, and then let you watch while she had an anxiety attack. For one-fifty, you could listen to FM radio with twins. For three bills, you got the works: A thin Jewish brunette would pretend to pick you up at the Museum of Modern Art, let you read her master’s, get you involved in a screaming quarrel at Elaine’s over Freud’s conception of women, and then fake a suicide of your choosing – the perfect evening, for some guys. Nice racket. Great town, New York.
“Like what you see?” a voice said behind me. I turned and suddenly found myself standing face to face with the business end of a .38. I’m a guy with a strong stomach, but this time it did a back flip. It was Flossie, all right. The voice was the same, but Flossie was a man. His face was hidden by a mask.
“You’ll never believe this,” he said, “but I don’t even have a college degree. I was thrown out for low grades.”
“Is that why you wear that mask?”
“I devised a complicated scheme to take over The New York Review of Books, but it meant I had to pass for Lionel Trilling. I went to Mexico for an operation. There’s a doctor in Juarez who gives people Trilling’s features – for a price. Something went wrong. I came out looking like Auden, with Mary McCarthy’s voice. That’s when I started working the other side of the law.”
“Quickly, before he could tighten his finger on the trigger, I went into action. Heaving forward, I snapped my elbow across his jaw and grabbed the gun as he fell back. He hit the ground like a ton of bricks. He was still whimpering when the police showed up.
“Nice work, Kaiser,” Sergeant Holmes said. “When we’re through with this guy, the F.B.I. wants to have a talk with him. A little matter involving some gamblers and an annotated copy of Dante’s Inferno. Take him away, boys.” Later that night, I looked up an old account of mine named Gloria. She was blond. She had graduated cum laude. The difference was she majored in physical education. It felt good.
April 26th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
I love Fleshbot and though I couldn’t do what they so (I’ve tried and it’s harder than it looks), but I can write copy. (When I’ve been paid to pay attention, which I haven’t regarding any error-ridden, run-on rubbish you might find here. My standards are so good I’ve got two of them.)
As an ex-copywriter I’m pretty attentive to the style of what I read, so it’s with some surprise I found myself only noticing Fleshbot’s horrendous tagline earlier today.
“Fleshbot is a frequently updated and influential web magazine about the pornography–and the sex culture–that digital technology and distribution has made possible.”
Jesus.
Where to begin? Assuming they like what their copy says, there are a grip of easy improvements.
Firstly who’s grandmother did the typing? Using double-dashes to simulate em dashes is a hack invented in the days of monospaced typewriters. It’s not been relevant to computers for twenty years and looks retarded. It’s one of the problems caused by the fondness American schools have for teaching typing (we don’t in Europe). The outmoded ludicrous people doing the teaching pass on their outmoded, and nowdays ludicrous, habits and pollute the world with people who think they’re still supposed to put two spaces after a period as if it were 1950. In a business letter the double dashes would only be annoying and weird, in a tagline they can’t be excused.
Onto grammar. Though it makes sense – barely – if read twice, on first reading ‘…an influential web magazine about the pornography…’ sounds like something Borat would say. Also, when was the last time anyone, or thing, influential had to label themselves so grandiosely? The influential President of the United States? The influential CEO of Microsoft? It’s embarrassing.
I could argue the term ‘web magazine’ is a bloated $20 way of saying blog, but could just as easily point out how many people still don’t know what a blog is. I’d win this argument with myself by explaining that Fleshbot readers are likely to know what blogs are given their age, web use and fondness for RSS, but I’m tired and not getting paid for this so fuck arguing with myself. I know I’m going to win regardless.
Finally, listing both digital technology and distribution reads like another attempt to sound impressive which isn’t required. Digital distribution technology is… er… technology and taglines should be tight. The point’s well made without mentioning distribution and no one’s going to be surprised by the website’s digital focus.
Our newly beaten into shape tagline reads:
“Fleshbot is a frequently updated web magazine about pornography and the sex culture digital technology has made possible.”
A clear improvement (Gawker dudes, you’re welcome).
Fleshbot’s just about the biggest sex-blog online. Let’s not have our champions embarrass us.
April 25th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
Savanna Samson and family.
While Jenna can’t seem to catch a break in the press nowdays, Savanna Samson seems to have assumed the pornster ‘it’s okay to like’ role for the mainstream media.
If you can look past New York Magazine’s “Welcome to 1998″ discovery of the MILF phenomenon (or that Savanna’s really a MESS, “Mother Everyone Says is Sexy”, in my view) you can’t help but notice the huge plug her work’s getting outside a traditional porn context.
Surprisingly, and hard to immediately understand, Samson’s also broken the pornster taboo against publicly identifying your children and posed with her husband and son. Does she realize her kid’s now going to have to answer questions on his mom’s role in ‘Hole-a-Holic‘ for or the next 20 years? Not smart.
First porn’s biggest name in wine, now an officially sanctioned MILF, Savanna’s rise continues without anything significant happening in her career. If you’re going to hire PR, this is the kind of coverage they should be getting you, shame about the kid – poor bastard.
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
April 24th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks The Curse of Nude Modeling Strikes Again (http://www.taratainton.com)
“I choose to share images of my nude or near-naked self on this website.”
My Kinkiest Fetish (http://thenakedrhetoricaltruth.blogspot.com)
“There is an erotic frisson about a skillful mindfuck that is almost as good as the real thing.”
Upgrading the Product Line (http://thismuse.blogspot.com)
“But even in the throes of orgasm, part of my brain is ticking off the clock.”
April 24th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
I remember seeing a book dedicated to the cards posted by London’s prostitutes in telephone boxes. The cards have since been made illegal and therefore fractionally harder to find, but any tourist can find thousands of them papering the walls of our famous red phones, making talking to your mother difficult (unless she’s someone else’s MILF and you’re a mother lover).
Designed to convey a phone-number and brief menu along with a description of the sex-service provider, the cards tackle the issue of describing the women they promote with the same forthright honesty we’ve come to expect from the White House press office. Believe the cards and know that most of porn valley is making ends meet selling bareback blowjobs in flats along the Edgeware road (we all know they stay in the 818 and only visit hotels). Putting ‘actual photo’ beside a picture of Tera Patrick and claiming she’s a 22 year old Japanese tranny isn’t seen as any big thing (I know it’s not her ‘cos I’ve been back three times and it’s always the same dude. Tell him Sam sent you).
The Bunny House blogs hooker flyers from South America and, due to a lack of access to DTP software and cheap color inkjets, the level of creativity on display is high. They putting the ‘uc’ back in folk art and, for someone with no allusions to being a whoremonger, the prices are eye-wateringly cheap. $10 is the price of a Big Mac meal in London – does she even undress? If so what’ll she do for a KFC family bucket? (or is the “KFC Family bucket” a sex act “Big Mac” will perform for the $10?)
My favorite provider to date is Paula, because after a session with her you can claim to have gone out for a haircut and still pass any polygraph test known to man (and she doesn’t have a cock. That works for me too.)
Cheese pop from Europe hope to chart via exposed implants.
April 23rd, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
They’re a band so cosmically bad they made their name with a song built on a sample of the Baywatch theme tune.
The Sun, a Murdoch owned UK based publication which professes against all compelling evidence to being a newspaper, published a list of sexy videos last month in a quest to answer the question on every serious newshounds lips, “Is Benny Banassi sexier than Fedde le Grand?” You’ll already have an opinion as their entire list has been featured at this blog, so there’s really nothing to see. Or is there?
Today saw the UK release of ‘Baby Baby’ by ‘Sunblock‘ which somehow managed to make the Sun’s list dated March 13th (Murdoch’s time machine?). They’re a band so cosmically bad they made their name with a song built on a sample of the Baywatch theme tune. To our eternal shame my fellow limey’s bought it, but seeing this video may explain why Sunblock’s music doesn’t matter.
On TV you’re only going to see bikini shots and suggestive poses so thank Vishnu these Swedes shot a version featuring naked hula-hooping, dildoes strapped to mechanical bulls and a lesbian make-out session (on that mechanical bull). If it gets to YouTube in this form it’ll last about 30 minutes before the Googlestasi take action, so enjoy the high-quality uncut version I’ve linked here.
April 23rd, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
I saw this shirt, whose script must be taken from a set of sex doll instructions, while grabbing a coffee in Soho this morning. It reads:
Blow me up.
Do not use sharp objects such as scissors, knife or needle.
Using your thumb and forefinger gently pull the safety seal from my vagina , revealing my vaginal opening.
Follow the same procedures to peel off my anus seal. Vagina and anus openings will have a smooth and regular rim after the seal is peeled off exposing my pink tunnels of love for the first time – to ensure nobody else has tampered with them before.
Who knew it was so complicated and hygenic? I thought you just pumped up and saddled up. I’m trying to work out if the instructions are more impressive than women with the guts to wear the tee. Awesome.
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
April 19th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks I make store clerks nervous (http://deliciously-naughty.typepad.com)
“So you told my husband that this month’s Hustler was awesome?”
PSO Anniversary (http://radicalvixen.com/blog)
“I think if most wives/girlfriends knew what their Sos were truly into they’d be grateful I talk to them and they don’t have to deal with it.”
Tighter: the apartment (http://erotischism.blogspot.com)
“She started contractions on my fingers and made those little indescribable sounds that signaled her orgasm.”
Nudity, comedy and sex appeal in three very different music videos.
April 18th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 9th, 2007
Country fans will recognize the tune as ‘Jesus take the wheel’ which always sounded like a good idea to me. If you believe he’s up there let him drive and let’s settle this “God” debate once and for all.
‘Original Cast’ have paired a catchy, idiotic, song with a video in which all the instruments have been replaced with naked women painted as the instruments they’re replacing.
You might want to read that again.
The level of objectification (the women are never acknowledged as humans) makes most porn look pretty enlightened but once you’ve accepted these women would make any music which doesn’t sound like bacon dropped on tile, it’s a pretty amusing concept.
Taking a more subtle approach with less flesh and more direct language is “Hot Country Singer” who parodies those country songs which assert anyone who doesn’t like them is a communist child killer. Cunts Country fans will recognize the tune as ‘Jesus take the wheel’ which always sounded like a good idea to me. If you believe he’s up there let him drive and let’s settle this “God” debate once and for all.
The ‘Hot Country Singer’ misses our soldiers so much she wants to bang them and the song goes into useful detail about how, where and how hard. As you might guess from the ‘Daisy Dukes’ she’s partial to taking it in the loading bay.
If that’s hurt your head I suggest you cleanse your palette with Sophie Ellis-Bextor who has the best legs in pop, cheekbones you could cut yourself on and cavorts in the kind of dress women under 5′10″ shouldn’t wear. I’m talking to you Dita.
Sophie looks like the kind of pinup they used to paint on the front of planes and the video’s mixture of innocence and total awareness of her sexuality makes me want to paint her on the front of my plane.
(NB. By plane I mean ‘penis’, and by paint I mean ‘ask her to sit on’.)
A lesson in penis power from the vagina power lady.
April 17th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
He won’t even get you a shrimp plate from ‘Long John Silvers’ that costs… what? $2.99, but he’ll give you a mouth full of sperm, a rectum full of sperm…
April 17th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Our very own Furry Girl, “America’s favorite hirsute hotty”, has landed a guest spot on Playboy Radio’s ‘Night Calls‘ this Friday 20th at 5:00 p.m. Pacific.
The show’s going to be a celebration of ‘Earth Day’ and focus on bringing green into the bedroom. I suspect there’ll also be a lot of questions regarding Furry’s fuzz, interest in menstrual sex and well documented tubal ligation.
I know what you’re thinking, totally wankable.
Furry’s not the first person you think of sitting down to bond with Christy Canyon and Ginger Lynn (who must both be still alive!?). Ironically they’re old enough to remember when the women in porn had pubes. Maybe they’ll find out where Kyla Cole’s gone and use her to spearhead a ‘Reasonable Pubes’ movement. Sign me up.
April 16th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Until last week UK drinkers who’d tired of peeling the label off their beer could scratch the plastic clothes off an eighties style pin-up on each bottle of Rubbel’s ‘Sexy Pils’.
Now the beer’s been pulled from shelves as UK law prevents alcohol manufacturers from equating their product with sexual success; Rubbels label maidens (I’m being generous) were a breast too far.
“…the Portman Group – the drinks industry watchdog, formed by the UK’s leading drinks producers – has blocked the sales of this lager under its current name and packaging.”
“David Poley, chief executive of The Portman Group, said: ‘Drinking excessively can affect people’s judgement and behaviour leading to them engaging in sexual activity which they later regret. Our Code disallows drinks marketing being linked to sexual success. The industry has set itself strict marketing rules and this drink has fallen short of those high standards.’”
He lost me at “sexual activity which they may regret later.” What on earth is he talking about?
April 13th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Joe Francis.
I’m running out of ways to insult Joe Francis. Kicking someone when their down is obviously no problem but this guys operating at Corky like levels of retardation and it’s beginning to seem unfair.
Amazingly, a guy who’s made his fortune drugging teenagers into making an inebriated porn debut is going to go down over taxes.
Everyone in porn knows the law offers them no protection other than the first amendment; you only know your porn is legal when you’ve been challenged in court which is a costly proposition for winners and losers alike. Thankfully groups like the ACLU will step up to protect the scummiest content if its continued existence is a free-speech issue. You’ll probably win your porn defense but you better make sure the rest of your house is in order.
Which is why everyone I know in porn considers paying their taxes on-time, as conservatively as is reasonable, the baseline for staying out of jail. When you cheat on your taxes there’s no sympathy (Willie Nelson excluded – that hippy’s got friends in high places), you will go to jail because taxes are the governments money and the feds will come down on you harder than a third street pimp if you don’t have their mother-fucking-money, you dig?
Francis has been cheating on his taxes, which is a gift to anyone who hates what he does because convicting him for tax evasion is a thousand times easier than shutting down his operation on the grounds of decency. Smuggling drugs into jail and trying to bribe guards only makes him the kind of genius who doesn’t realize you can break the law behind bars just as easily as you can in the back of your RV with a naked fifteen year old.
Joe ‘I’ll pay you not to fuck me in prision’ Francis is no ones hero but it’s sad to see such a high-profile smut peddler giving the Max Hardcores and Rob Blacks of the world a bad name. Stupidity’s unforgivable.
(I’ve got nothing against this guy. He must be pissed… Nice hair!)
April 11th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Before porn hit the mainstream in the late sixties people in search of their jollies had three choices.
Illegal underground hardcore
Pseudo ‘educational’ sex-ed films
Exploitation movies
While most educational films got away with including sexy content by telling you how bad it was to have a sex drive, exploitation movies just reveled in their own low budget craptitude and got on with pushing the boundaries of acceptability – considerably more fun. (Those boundaries were pretty tame, Betty Page was making ‘porn’ at the time and barely got past taking her top off.)
The Wild Women of Wongo’s about two islands, one of which contains a bunch of hot women, the other a group of men with conveniently ugly wives. Clearly, someone’s going to get wet.
Betty Page was making ‘porn’ at the time and barely got past taking her top off.
April 11th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Jenna Jameson.
I’ve been to LA from London twice in ten days and returning to earth can’t click a link for seeing the MSB (MainStream Blogosphere) freaking out over Jenna J’s uncomely, newly visible, bones.
Here’s what’s happening.
Anyone who’s had a boob-job knows plastic surgery and weight-loss don’t mix. All that stretched skin and scar tissue looks rough when it starts to sag.
Jenna’s had a very well publicized meth habit and meth, makes you thin. I’m not saying Jenna’s back on meth but damn is she thin.
Jenna needs better PR. The ’stress’ excuse for sudden weight loss is like the ‘exhaustion’ one for sudden loss of consciousness. If stress made you thin gyms would replace all those mirrors with pictures of tigers and personal trainers would creep up on you dressed as death. Not eating makes you thin. Stress has nothing to do with it (have you seen Al Gore?)
She’s falling apart faster than a clown car on a cobblestone street. Sad, but I’ve got to say I like this outfit. Very Sydney Bristow.
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
April 10th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Tara Tainton.
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Want in Sugasm #75? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form.
This Week’s Picks History: Marlene on the Wall (http://thismuse.blogspot.com)
“3AM, showering, head, his hands soapy on my breasts, I’m thankful I’ve dropped weight, the water is warm and cool enough to feel like bed.”
Afternoon Debauchery (http://junohenry.wordpress.com)
“Occasionally he’d push it further inside me, from where it had involuntarily escaped due to slickness and enthusiastic vibrations.”
Too Many Choices (http://bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com)
“We’d been naked most of the time since getting here on Friday, so I wasn’t surprised when I reached under her skirt and found that she wasn’t wearing any panties.”
April 5th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Andrew Conru.
Business 2.0’s piece on Friend Finder Networks founder Andrew Conru is worth reading. Not only does it treat the adult business as – GASP – business, but it also provides some hard numbers for an area of the online market which, thanks to private ownership, doesn’t publish figures.
The figures are impressive. $200M a year in revenue, 40% growth per anum for the last nine years, 75,000 new users a day and 35 million visitors in 2006; making Adult Friend Finder bigger than Match.com and Yahoo! Personals (almost combined!).
Conru also highlights the dilema faced by all seriously successful adult companies. Unless you build a brand which trancends porn and becomes connected with ’sexy’ (i.e. Playboy) your success is a limitation. Friend Finder is now too big to be bought by another adult company, and too subversive to be bought by a mainstream operation in the US. Conru can’t sell out and has to rely on his own ideas to sustain his growth an income. There’s no cashing in, it’s porn for life.
April 4th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
There’s lots of worrying from parents dealing unsuccessfully with a seismic shift in the availability of explicit sexual material, and unable to maintain the fantasy of perfectly innocent children who become adults at eighteen without prior sexual exploration.
‘Teens Hooked on Porn‘ is a documentary aimed at those who remember a time before the web, and who choose to believe it’s making the world increasingly sexual. It underscores the contrasting opinions of those born into the pre and post web era, at its zenith in the UK where hardcore material only became legal as the Internet exploded, forever gluing the appearance of porn to the rise of digital culture together in many minds.
The assumption here is that any teenager who looks at porn has a problem, and it’s never questioned (by anyone but the kids themselves). There’s no mention of any connection between adolescence and a perfectly healthy need to wank (unequaled by anything but the need to breathe in my case). Or of any differences between healthy and unhealthy porn.
There’s lots of worrying from parents dealing unsuccessfully with a seismic shift in the availability of explicit sexual material, and unable to maintain the fantasy of perfectly innocent children who become adults at eighteen without prior sexual exploration. They are quietly freaking out.
When they mention XXXChurch and introduce the cheesy psychologist you’re officially allowed to start laughing.
You’d never see a program suggesting adults limit their interest in music to playing an instrument, but take no time to listen to recordings or watch other people perform, because music is seen as beautiful, edifying and good. As long as sex isn’t seen that way, any pleasure taken in it will be presented as at best eccentricity and at worst a problem. Of course that view makes for less shocking documentaries.
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
April 4th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #74? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form.
This Week’s Picks Dawn Tryst (http://junohenry.wordpress.com)
“The soft noises intensify as he shifts himself once more so that he is turned towards her and his fingertips on her body are mimicking hers on his own.”
The G-Spot Mystery Revealed OR “ACK! Go Back to My Clit” (http://shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)
“So, since I’ve succumbed to the pressure, let me at least reveal to you the things you might not know about the g-spot, the things Cosmo doesn’t want you to know.”
M Hotel 2 (http://thenakedrhetoricaltruth.blogspot.com)
“I watch his face as his hands pull me open, and then I close my eyes, my arms stretched above my head, as he lowers his face.”
A uniformed marching-band who may adjust your baton.
April 3rd, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
As Waters is now 43, and thus too old to be seen without a burqa on MTV, the video for her latest rumpshaker features an array of dancers dressed as bandsluts pushing the limits of upskirt titillation.
Crystal Waters is best known for releasing the aural toxin known as ‘Gypsy Woman‘ in 1991. It’s still in my head and if it’s not in your it goes “La da dee, la da da, la da dee, la da daa” and will kill a small section of your brain and live there forever after a single listen.
(If you can’t remember it for God’s sake don’t listen to it now. Consider yourself lucky and just get on with your life. There are people all over who’ve had to go and buy CASIO’s just to get it out of their head. Who knew homelessness could be so catchy?)
As Waters is now 43, and thus too old to be seen without a burqa on MTV, the video for her latest rumpshaker features an array of dancers dressed as bandsluts pushing the limits of upskirt titillation because I really like what short skirts and round butts do together.
The king of infocore pornography is opening a chain of restaurants.
April 1st, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
Joe Francis.
Joe Francis, 33, the man behind $100M of crap Girls Gone Wild videos has announced plans to open restaurants in Cancun and Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, this year.
According to the Los Angeles Business Journal,
“The restaurant rollout will start with owned-and-operated stores in beach tourist destinations. Once the format is set, the company plans to open smaller outlets in college towns across the country. Francis expects some type of franchising or licensing structure for the college-friendly clubs, with a total build-out of about 300 locations.”
“Sexiness sells too, and edginess sells,” Francis explained. “Women want to be around sex as much as men do, because women want to feel sexy.”
SugarBank has managed to gain access to an early draft of suggested menu items which includes:
Intoxicated oysters persuaded to appear live
Underage veal smothered in white sauce
Date raped Tuna steak on a bed of ashamed potato
Split Beaver (served raw.)
Aged beef (market price)
Joe’s Jailbait special
A standard range of cocktails will also be available (mickeys + 15%)
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
March 27th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #73? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the linklist within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks Big-Titted Muses (http://middleurge.blogspot.com)
“In the span of fifteen seconds, these two lovers instantly own the room, the camera, the cock.”
Make it happen (http://junohenry.wordpress.com)
“Dip two strawberries in the chocolate, eat one and feed me the other.”
Water, Water Everywhere… (http://thismuse.blogspot.com)
“He pauses there, feeling the weight in his hands, then soaps my breasts, rubbing the nipples between his fingers and thumb.”
March 26th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
…it’s hard to watch without thinking, “Isn’t the prick normally on the inside of a Porsche?”
Advertising’s a conservative art form, and when ads aren’t conservative, the ways they seek to offend are telling. In the US ’shock’ and sex are synonymous. In Europe sex is more often associated with pleasure, fun or entertainment.
Take Lavazza. They know sex is easier to sell than coffee, so sex is what they sell. There’s no fear of nudity, no fear children (THINK OF THE CHILDREN!) will become rapists if they can see the things they grew up sucking. Just a visual pun on the word grind and some images inspired by that time I got locked in Starbucks with three trainee baristas. Lavazza coffee just want you to think their beans taste good. As good as pushing your tits into a model.
Porsche’s ad is better still. Obvious and subtle at the same time even if it’s hard to watch without thinking, “Isn’t the prick normally on the inside of a Porsche?”
A reality show pilot about life behind the porn lens.
March 25th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
…how many people will incorrectly assume all porn shooters are as smart, caring and honest as the Randalls…
I’m told this mini-doc is part of the pitch for a show detailing the lives of Suze and Holly Randall, two of the best known erotic photographers, unique in having enough combined star wattage to make the prospect of seeing them on TV interesting.
The biggest problem, should this show ever reach broadcast, is knowing how many people will incorrectly assume all porn shooters are as smart, caring and honest as the Randalls. Aspartame but true.
Cut to crying fan of the show asking sweaty, recently-sated photographer “Are you going to make me a star now? It wasn’t like this on TV…”
March 24th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
The thousand plus bikini shots posted to Flickr of the ‘NOPI Swimsuit Nationals’ prove the motorsport and sex industries have more than lubricant, hot rubber and fast laps in common.
With serious cash prizes involved exhibitionists and broke-hotties alike compete to have “YEAH THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” shouted at them by guys who think women like lowered Honda’s. It’s a celebration of America’s confused love of tits and hatred of sex which allows women who “…would never!” to spray colored rubber cement on their junk and pole dance while telling themselves they’re in a fashion show. It’s pure aircore porn.
March 23rd, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
Is the car’s refusal to start some sort of symbolic domination? What, as Freud famously said, the fuck?
My German’s not up to determining if CarCranking.de, a site for people who like to watch fully clothed women try to start recalcitrant jalopies, is for real. It could be, people are strange. If so, is this about feet? Is the car’s refusal to start some sort of symbolic domination? What, as Freud famously said, the fuck?
Anyone capable of shedding some light should feel free to write. If you find this to be surprisingly sexy and can now can only bust a nut once you’ve broken a distributor cap, sorry for ruining your sex-life. On the upside, your jollies are really easy to get now.
March 21st, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
Nathalie Portman.
I love Nathalie Portman. Her name means ‘Yum’ in Hebrew and this blog is a ruse designed to put me in a position where I can write ‘Nathalie Portman is Naked’ someday and illustrate the post with images taken in the back of my van.
Then I’ll stop blogging and the era of ‘creatively deviant sex with Nathalie Portman’ will begin but today is not that day. The clips from Goya’s Ghost doing the rounds of the web are, in the best Hollywood tradition, a montage of shots of Portman’s face, arms and legs and an unknown double’s bumps, humps and slice (which is a great name for a cop show by the way).
Clip 4
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There’s a lot of not very sexy torture here (you can disagree with in the comments you sick fuck) but whatever – it’s Nathalie Portman. Naked.
(NB: Don’t believe what anyone says about these images being ‘leaked’, this is a marketing stunt. With a naked Nathalie Portman at my side I could sell Al Gore a Hummer which ran on compressed carbon dioxide and fetal blood.)
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
March 20th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #72? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the linklist within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Roué (http://www.easilyaroused.co.uk)
“Her sighs of contentment build as my touch does its work.”
Wrong Number (http://radicalvixen.com/blog)
“They said clients were trying to call me and getting this restaurant instead.”
Ride to the Cabin (http://eroticawriter.blogspot.com)
“As he pulled into a dark lane that led into a grove of trees, I reached over to stroke him.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself Loveland (http://sugarbank.com)
Editor’s Choice Your hair (http://erotischism.blogspot.com)
March 20th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
I’ll start by saying having to pre-order a cool T-Shirt suggests the shirt’s target market is geeky enough to place pre-orders and therefore can’t be cool.
Tautology aside this ‘Sex Slave‘ tee might be worth having. Combining apes, bondage, nudity, Japanese writing and pink it’s features everything considered cool by me sci-fi movie directors in the 1975-85 period.
$42 is a lot for a T-Shirt but I’ve been spending all my time in the UK lately and in London you can spend $42 on lunch at Subway.
March 14th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
This surprisingly graphic clip highlights one of porn’s dirty little secrets. The footage includes scenes of blunt force trauma to a performer’s head – you might not like it.
March 14th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
I found ‘Bitchy Jones’s Diary‘ via the Sugasm, working the way it’s supposed to where one link leads to another and suddenly you’re reading something great no one’s mentioned before.
My attention was caught by her comments on BDSM fashion. She does a mean job summarizing why moving straight from band-practice, AP classes and all night D&D sessions to fetishism, bypassing the important ‘trying to look attractive in order to fit in’ component of adolescence, is a bad idea.
All she’s missing is something on those cheap floor-length patchwork leather coats some male doms like to wear. Usually teamed with a black T-shirt, jeans, tatty sneakers and studded leather armbands.
The taste of cold vegetables and rubbing alcohol tells me I just threw up in my mouth a little.
Bitchy feels the same.
There are many who are guilty. So, Bitchy presents, the most hideous crimes of fetish fashion (quick aside: funny innit, how places with horribly oppressive “dress codes” will allow all of these things and yet balk and a happy relaxed young woman who chooses to express her dominess in jeans and trainers. Gits)
Anything you have had to have made specially made in your size. If it’s not made that size as standard, chances are there’s a good reason for that.
More than three facial piercings on anyone over the age of 19. Having your cheeks stapled together does not make you look hard; it makes you look like you don’t understand basic accessorizing.
Motorcycle trousers – y’know with the padding and all – yeuuch
Anything, just anything that you are being forced to wear as public humiliation because it is so revealing. Just who’s being punished here: you or the people who have to look at you in your labia revealing outfit?
Shoulder pads – It is not 1985 and you are not Joan Collins
Black lipstick – femdoms, look in the mirror before you leave the house and ask yourself this question: “In all honesty, could I be mistaken for Marilyn Manson?” If so, get the cleanser and start over.
Cowboy boots – run for your fucking life
Cowboy hats – as above but even faster
Platforms – stop it. It. Is. Wrong. Platform stilettos are even worse. No pleasant, not practical, as my grandmother used to say: ‘neither use nor ornament’, and I really didn’t want to start quoting her, but you have forced me into it.
Fishnets with stilettos – it’s fishnets with flats, stilettos with sheers. This is BDSM – I thought you liked arbitrary rules. If I told you not to ejaculate until next Wednesday week you’d do it, and yet, you can’t do this one little thing for me.
Those all over figure hugging body suit things that just have little holes for the eyes – yelp! And where do you keep your keys BTW? Second thoughts: I don’t want to know.
Leather waistcoats – over a shirt: nasty – over a bare chest: vomit.
Anything that shows your sexual organs (inc. secondary) – it’s not nice
Pony tails so tight it looks like you have had a botched face lift (apart from anything else: they hurt) – why is this dominant, exactly? Painful hair. This is the one thing about he femdom look that continues to perplex and floor me.
Anything where, in an attempt to further pervert something already perverse, it has been rendered in an incongruous fabric – rubber nuns, PVC French maids. It’s vulgar; it’s wrong: it’s vulgar and wrong.
While we’re on the subject nuns and French maid costumes are hideous anyways, likewise schoolgirls – look, did someone make this whole business fancy dress without telling me. Except men in uniforms. That’s okay, ‘casue it’s hot. Everything else, so very no.
Tiny teddy bears in bondage gear hanging from belt loops – so many things wrong it’s hard to begin. Plus: do not hang things from your belt loops. You are not a roadie.
Thigh boots – transvestites only. And really, not even then.
Black PVC catsuits – (1) cliché, (2) unless you are a size zero you look like a slug that’s learned to walk upright.
T-shirts featuring 1980’s Goth or heavy metal bands – ugh, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: it is not 1985. 1985 clothing didn’t even look good *in* 1985, let alone a decade and a half later. Sort it out.
Femdoms: you are not Siouxsie Sioux
Male subs: you are not drag queens
Fem subs: No matter how much of a sexual kick you get out of it, letting a man decide what you wear on a regular basis is not a good thing.
Male doms: whatever you’re doing fashionwise, it’s probably wrong. Removing your facial hair would be a good place to start sorting it out.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: that’s just your opinion, Bitchy, so fuck off. And I say, yeah, but aren’t I meant to be taking total charge? If you don’t like one person steam rollering you and presenting their groundless utterly subjective opinions as if they were a priori truths then get yourself to another sexual sub culture.
Before ( http://thismuse.blogspot.com)
“Condoms and lube go into the bedside drawer next to the Bible. Purse into the drawer with clothes, whore-bag into the closet with my street shoes.”
Mr Donald says that his sexual fetish may have been triggered by formative childhood experiences watching Knight Rider.
“When I was a young boy I used to see human qualities in cars,’ he says. ‘As I grew up I noticed I was having feelings towards cars and they began catching my eye in a certain way.”
“His current paramour is a Jaguar X-Type with cream leather upholstery. He also gives many of his loves names, including Laura, a Peugeot 205, and a BMW 520i called Alexandria.”
But the bit I really love?
“Mr Donald, according to The Sun, also maintains a website on which he writes erotic fiction about car-diddling, and has posted a manual entitled ‘How to Make Love to a Car or Other Vehicle.’
Advice from the manual includes ‘The tailpipe isn’t the only option! If it interests you get hold of a silicon sleeve from Clone Zone or some other tool to make life easier on your tool’ and ‘Roleplay involving the car is another spice. Needless to say solo roleplay requires vivid imagination and the ability to suspend rational thought.’”
So how do yet get caught doing this? Burns? I don’t even want to think about it.
It was all in French, but people who saw it said it was basically a depiction of American life from birth to death, portrayed in the most extreme way possible.
After stripping off their grubby clothes, the pair gobbled potato chips and spit them on the crowd, vomited into a filthy commode and threw around fake feces and urine before being shut down about a half hour into what was to be a 45-minute performance.
Okay. I get it. America.
The last straw, apparently, was a simulated sex act involving a carrot.
Gotta love the Midwest. Vomit and shit are just fine but sex with a carrot? That’s just disgusting. The unitended climax was reached during the song ‘Torture is Fun’ whose lyrics are below:
TORTURE IS FUN ( music : Costes – words : Costes & Lisou Prout )
- The carrot ! ahaha, the carrot !
- Aaaah ! not the carrot ! i hate shredded carrots !
Torture is fun ! Happyness is slavery
- not the pan ! not the swinging pan !
You’ll be singing that all day. (My favorite is ‘We Want Sex’ which you’ll find here along with the rest of the libretto in English)
The joke’s got to be on the gallery who booked Costes. He’s often described as ‘The French GG Allin’ and is both less dead and equally obsessed with coprophilia. Any superficial googling would have turned up a plethora of clues to the content of the show. This shut own smells like a publicity stunt to me, but I’m a cynical ex PR so I tend to see marketing everywhere (it’s like ‘They Live‘ – I have special sunglasses)
Coates website is pretty sexy if you’re into shit. It’s a place where nudity, blood and sex are indivisible.
Moral? In 2007 you can tell how crazy someone is from their use of HTML.
March 11th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
Zoe Margolis.
Zoe Margolis, who writes as Abby Lee, and is known as ‘Girl With a One Track Mind‘ has just been written up in the New Yorker. It’s not a full profile but it’s a first, and no mean one. Every publishing agent in America reads the New Yorker and in an industry which is controlled in New York, but depends on the mid-West, it’s the kind of publicity you need when trying to sell a book subtitled ‘Diary of a Sex Fiend’.
Interestingly the piece says nothing about her book or her writing, which means Zoe’s story is more interesting to the press than the book she’s written. Though it may sound offensive, it means she’s a proto-celebrity. Everyone who employs PR wants to reach a point where they’re more interesting that whatever they’re doing and they become a story themselves. When you can appear in the media just because you’re you promoting anything becomes vastly easier. I wonder if Zoe/Abby/The Girl’s going to capitalize on it?
Another New Yorker article which has just reached the web is a piece on Joel Surnow, the producer of ‘24‘, focused on the show’s use of torture and lack of realism.
It made me think immediately of the ever-present questions hanging over violent porn and BDSM. Sadists, who enjoy inflicting pain on willing submissives, are torturers working with the consent of their victims. In the New Yorker article, Joel Navarro, one of the F.B.I.’s top experts in questioning techniques, has this to say about torturers:
Only a psychopath can torture and be unaffected. You don’t want people like that in your organization. They are untrustworthy, and tend to have grotesque other problems.
So when does rough sex become psychopathic behavior?
According to Wikipedia (Wikipedia = truth by agreement) psychopaths are most commonly diagnosed using Hare’s Psychopathy Checklist-Revised (PCL-R) in which:
Hare describes psychopaths as “intraspecies predators who use charm, manipulation, intimidation, and violence to control others and to satisfy their own selfish needs. Lacking in conscience and in feelings for others, they cold-bloodedly take what they want and do as they please, violating social norms and expectations without the slightest sense of guilt or regret.”
Can you be a sadist without being psychopathic? If not should we be more worried about the minds of sadists than the consent of submissives?
March 11th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
Loveland (and I’m not talking about the great R. Kelly’s mid-period work) is one of those things that’s too sexually unusual not to be blogged about.
Kind of like R. Kelly’s mid-period work.
The last images I saw from the park focused on the naked women parading around on … fuck, I don’t know… ‘Get naked at Loveland Day’ – I guess. The park, if you’ve not seen it, is stuffed with sexually themed sculpture and models. Some at giant sizes.
The pictures posted here spend a lot more time looking at the weirder exhibits – which is saying something – and it’s making me want to put on my elephant underpants and get over there. It’s telling that free of religiously based puritanism being an adult’s a lot of fun.
March 9th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
Just before I bought the elephant pants I was in Soho and this bottle called my name.
In the base of the bottle is the figure of a standing man holding a woman, with her legs wrapped around his waist, off the floor. Her hands are thrown over her head because she’s having a good time. I’m pretty sure they’re fucking. Sorry it’s so hard to see but the camera in my phone is an overpriced afterthought.
March 9th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
I
‘m not ashamed to say I rock tighty-whities – if you’re shipping a Henry Moore you strap it down in the truck – and these are possibly the greatest underwear ever made.
Normally I just look for something with the lifting capacity I require with a waistband which doesn’t suggest my self-esteem is linked directly to my underpants (it’s linked directly to what’s in them. I’m a man). That’s why this pair is so life-changing.
When you’re the kind of guy people assume has an elephant in their pants, it gets tiring having to turn your pockets inside out and open your fly in order to prove your point. These bad boys have the picture of an elephant on the front and, in case that’s not enough, real, waggable, ears.
They’re by Intimissi and God-damn are they comfortable. Wearable porn. It’s going to be a lucky night.
(NB: Some people think I shouldn’t be allowed to use money.)
March 8th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
The National Organization of Women thinks Dolce & Gabbana’s new ad’s a little too rapey.
I’m not sure how five gay guys professional mannequins would go about raping an anorexic model but I think it needs explaining.
I can’t help thinking the people who see the ‘rape’ in this ad also think ‘Leon‘ (’The Professional’ if you’re American) is about a pedophile, and keep shouting ‘Who is it?’ at the TV every time this Apple ad comes on.
Sure, the D&G ad’s kinky, if you squint a bit, but rape? Listen, if she didn’t want to be held down she shouldn’t have worn such a short dress.
Remember when fashion advertising didn’t mess around when it came to offending people? Ah, memories…
[ev type="youtube" data="vZVk21Pco-c"][/ev]
TreeHugger’s ‘How to Green Your Sex Life‘ is on the interesting side of ‘batshit-mad’, leaning over the fence, considering making the leap. Vegetarian’s taste better? That chestnut’s straight from a PETA action pack (and I have been a vegetarian for many years so stop writing that fucking email right now).
Greenpeace’s advice to “…ensure S&M paddles are made from sustainably harvested timber,” is my personal favorite. Doms are supposed to ‘tread lightly’ on the planet while laying into subs because the planet can be damaged forever unless we’re careful with it, while people… er… never mind.
Moving on…
We’ve all considered it. You borrow a friend’s phone, take a photo of your biscuits and send it to their entire address book pretending to be the phone’s owner. Hilarity ensues.
Why when a twelve year old steals an eleven year old’s phone, takes a picture of her junk and then sends it to ten people pretending to be the phone’s owner did someone call the police? Why should a kid get labeled as a deviant for a prank in which the only genitalia on display was their own? Who exactly was hurt by this? What ever happened to a telling off?
As for female teachers having sex with 16 year olds – how did that get out of my head and into reality? Anyone mind if I imagine a Cate Blanchett type? Sorry Miss I forgot my homework. Extra credit? How…?
March 7th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 6th, 2007
The case for me having a lingerie fetish, and ‘Little Sagan’, just got a fraction harder to ignore.
It seems that before Fedde le Grand will remix your tune you must agree to shoot a babe filled ‘aircore’ video. Enter Camille Jones, who’s probably wondering why she’s not on screen more.
You might wonder why she bothered to show up at all, or ponder what the director told her the video would contain – she never shares the screen with Fedde, or any of the dancers, and seems to have shot in an entirely different location. Surely she couldn’t think ’shoulder fugging’ would cut it for the full 150 seconds? My guess is the record company worked out it’d be easy to get fawning coverage from horny bloggers if they shoehorned enough sex into the promo.
Hang on…
Geeks, have fun spotting the ‘Secretary’ references. Wankers, I’m sure you’re aware of your options.
The case for me having a lingerie fetish, and ‘Little Sagan’, just got a fraction harder to ignore. In my defense, is there anyone who doesn’t like a glimpse of thigh at the top of a well-turned leg?
The best of the sex-blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
March 7th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
The best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
This Week’s Picks The Adrenaline Moment (http://theprovocateur.wordpress.com)
“As soon as they stood, I was certain they spotted me – for they rose and both walked right up to the tall windows before them”
Bewitch Us Both! (http://perverselypoly.blogspot.com)
“She’s starting to breath shallow as your tongue makes its way along her outer lips, followed by one, two then three fingers.”
All Dressed Up And No-one To Fuck (http://joeheather.blogspot.com)
“The bra and thong stayed, though. I love to fuck my woman when she’s still partially clothed. ”
March 6th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
The website for ‘Preggo Abuse‘ advertises “Miscarriage or Bust!” on its homepage.
It’s not funny, and only shocking due to the implication they’re trying to cause spontaneous abortions in their performers. AVN reports but makes no comment.
What’s wrong with these people?
Why in the world of post-modern porn must any expression of taste, discernment or humanity be viewed as a call for censorship? Publish this crap all you want but please, let us know that the world hasn’t been totally subsumed by the idiocracy.
March 6th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
In Ohio Rep. Michael DeBose (D) and Sen. Kevin Coughlin (R) have proposed legislation that would require convicted sex offenders to affix easily identified bright green license plates to their cars.
Genius.
Telling children to avoid getting into cars with green plates is a fantastic way of protecting them because sex offenders have always been previously convicted, and it’s basically impossible to remove a number plate that’s been attached with screw technology. Better yet, if any kids do get abused, green plates will make ’street justice’ easier to administer.
You’re from Illinois!? My bad! Don’t try and talk your jaw’s kinda… off.
We can also look forward to the ’sex offender’ pool of cars at Ohio rental outlets with the green plates pre-installed. Low mileage, easy wipe down interiors…
March 6th, 2007 by Sam Sugar | Last modified: July 5th, 2007
I’m not sure why you’d want to measure a vagina. The only one I’ve experienced whose size was notable, a commodious cooch, was exactly too big for ‘Little Sagan’ to do his normally embiggening magic. I could only touch the sides if I moved my hips like the clickwheel on an iPod.
“.
