Archived entries for sex

Laurel pointed this out to me first thing this morning, from the Wonkblog.

rapist_visualization_01

This is most likely Not Safe For Work, unless you have headphones or work in a place where they are perfectly fine talking about oral sex, anal sex, sex toys, sexually transmitted infections, 50 Shades of Grey, and Robots From the Future Built to Fuck Your Face.

(Hello, Google Search results!)

I am truly amazed Launch Memphis still let me do these things. And thankful, as well.

While looking up some information on the shooting in Greenwood, MS that happened a block from the wedding I was attending, I came across this wondrous horrible article:

Greenwood Man Caught Having Sex With Hogs

Gave hogs vaginal infection

GREENWOOD - Authorities said a man who was caught having sex with show hogs will have his case presented to the Leflore County Grand Jury next month. Andrew Lee Nash, 52, was arrested on Dec. 3, 2010 after police set up surveillance cameras in the owner’s stalls near U.S. Highway 82 and the Yazoo River.

Greenwood Police Chief Henry Purnell said the hogs were examined by a local veterinarian, during a routine examination, and the owner was told that four of the hogs had a vaginal infection.

“The owner of the animals knew someone was messing with his animals,” said Chief Investigator Huntley Nevels. “And the veterinarian confirmed the sexual assault. So, the owner contacted police and the officers staked it out and caught him out there.”

Nash, who lives in the 700 block of Mississippi Avenue, was arrested at the scene and charged with 12 counts of unnatural intercourse.

Greenwood is apparently a frighteningly twisted little town.

A-yup.

That’s it right there. Molded plastic lady parts attached to a snap-on iPad harness.

If you’ve been paying attention to this blog today, then you’ll have learned three things about science and technology:

  1.  It can put a working rover on Mars for 8 years.
  2. It can be used to spy on the world.
  3. It can let you fuck your iPad.

What a Brave New World we live in.

Image borrowed from Geekosystem.com. They’ve got more facts about the Fleshlight iPad Abomination Thing if you are interested.

I’m sure by this point, you’ve all heard of the Cthulhu dildos. Boing Boing had them, and people were tweeting about them even before that.

I’m not sure what more you need to know beyond the phrase “Cthulhu dildo”, but here’s what I’m talking about if you are (luckily) in the dark.

That bit of eldritch sex toy plastic got me thinking about all the weird mass market tie-in sex toys that have come out lately.

Take the Hustler/Fleshlight alien-vagina-in-a-flashlight-case. It was part of a partnership between the two companies to promote Hustler’s porn parody of Avatar. Think of it this way – if Avatar took 3D filmmaking to a new heights of technology, the Avatar porno was going to take masturbation to new heights of technology as well. Which I guess is great for people that fantasize about watching adult film stars dressed like Thundersmurfs go at it while sticking their bits into the triangular orifice of a piece of molded plastic.

If you ask me, the real technical achievement of the Avatar porn parody was that they managed find body make-up that wouldn’t smear all over everything once the bow-chica-wow-wow started.

But, I digress.

Twilight fans of both sexes can also have their plastic genital needs seen to, as well.

Chief amongst them is what L and I laughingly refer to as the “sparklecock“. (We’ve named a band in ROCK! after it.) It’s a pretty standard dildo, except for the infusion of sparkle glitter to make it match the sparkle that Twilight’s vampires have. Yes, I know, vampires aren’t supposed to sparkle, but whatever, they do in Stephanie Meyers’ head. The other key feature of these things is their temperature retention properties. See, the vampires in Twilight are dead – their bodies are cold. And this plastic was designed to stay cold if you stuck it in the fridge for a while. For the “authentic experience”, as the seller promises.

For those with their genitals on the outside, there’s also the Fleshlight-esque “Succu Dry“, a plastic woman’s fanged mouth. It’s pretty much your standard plastic cavity, except this time the mold is of a mouth and not of lady parts. Branding-wise, the manufacturers are leaning more toward the True Blood angle than the Twilight kids. Probably a smart idea, since most of the male Twi-hards probably wouldn’t want a blowjob anyway, at least not from a girl. But, it is still a sex toy cash-in on the popularities of vampires right now.

It does make me wonder, though. I mean, teeth are a perpetual worry during the specific sex act the Succu Dry is designed to replicate. What sort of laissez-faire attitude must you take toward your sexual well being when you decide that not only are teeth OK, but that bigger more, dangerous teeth are BETTER. It makes me feel that the world is probably better off with that person sticking their penis into plastic that some one else, you know?

Not to be out done by American perverts, the Japanese also have their own versions of a Fleshlight. They call it the “ona-hole”. Yeah. Can’t make this shit up. Anyway. The “ona-holes” get branded just like Fleshlights do here. Except sometimes they go a bit…awry. Like when instead of making the internal part into something that would seem to fit what you’re putting into it, you instead make it into a negative space molding of a famous anime character. An underage, marginally pubescent anime character, at that. I can only assume that the Japanese are training their men to use their penises as lock picks. Because nothing else really makes sense.

“Ona-hole”.

Jesus fucking Christ.

EDIT: Oh god, my friend Katie just sent me a link to the sparklecock in full effect. It’s a plastic dong flying in mid-air, up to you how safe for work it is.

AAAAHHHHH GOD WHY IT BURNS WHY WAS THAT CHEETAH DOING THAT WHAT WAS WITH THE GOAT AT THE END OH GOD WHY WAS THIS EVER MADE

So, LT‘s posted this interesting writer’s prompt challenge called “Opening Lines“. She gives you an opening line, and then you run with it. The lines are all nice and loose things that can lead you in every possible direction. With my FastFiction reserves running dangerously low, this is a great way to keep my writing short, stark little bits.

I’m going to put an extra stipulation on this: each piece must be 300 words. Half again as long as my normal FastFictions, which makes these completely different gremlins to work with.

Anyway, here’s my first one.

(Fair warning – might be considered Not Safe For Work if you’ve got a place that’s really strict about text subject matter.)

The Routine

When she finally took her hands off his neck, he still wasn’t dead. Which was always a slight disappointment to her when they did things like this.

She had gone through all of the motions. Dress up in the leather. Put on the heels. Don zipper-lipped mask. Choke him ’til he cums – she didn’t even have to touch him – he’d pop on his own. And the whole while, blithely wish this would be the time that she’d hang on just a bit longer or press just a bit harder and wouldn’t have to do this ever again.

It’s not that she didn’t like it, didn’t love him. She just found all of it so boring now, so routine.

It didn’t used to be like this. It was wild and salacious at first. Dressing up in outlandish costumes, sticking things in places they’d never been before, doing it in places they shouldn’t be doing it. Fucking like they wanted to send every prude in the world screaming back into their holes. And while it lasted, it was absolutely magnificent.

But now look at them. They’d turned themselves into some kind of sexual freakshow. Hell, she couldn’t even come with out a half-frozen glass butt plug in her ass, Tom Waits’ “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” blaring through the speaker and her husband wrist deep in her.

What she wouldn’t give for that awkward, clumsy sex she knew all those couples in places like Kansas and Ohio were having. Sex under Walmart bought sheets in flannel nightgowns. Sex where the only thing coming near her genitals were his. Simple, uncomplicated coupling. Was that really too much to ask for?

She sighed, rolled off of him, and wandered off into the kitchen to get the butt plug out of the freezer.

Via Copyranter.

I…I don’t even know what to say to this.

What you need to know: Anderson Cooper is interviewing a Michigan assistant Attorney General about his blog where he rails against the gay head president of the University of Michigan student assembly. And by rails I mean says some really over the top and offensive shit.

Hit play and give it a few minutes. When you’re sufficiently creeped out by the guy’s eyes, I’ll be waiting down here for you.

Yeah. Look at them twitch. Beady little things. Bouncing all over the screen, avoiding reality.

Done? Ok.

The best part of this video? The subtext that Anderson Cooper is in all probability gay, interviewing a guy who is probably in the closet, about a guy who is out and the guy who’s in the closet probably not even realizing that his interviewer has been on the cover of The Advocate.

The guy’s a troll that’s getting trolled by Anderson Cooper.

How awesome is that?

Pat pointed this out today on Twitter.

@Patorma Hey the assistant AG from my home state is fucking insane (and probably gay) : http://bit.ly/btw4yy

This picture came up over the weekend, and I thought I’d share it with everyone who doesn’t know the story.

Lady on the left, giving the “what the fuck do you think you’re wearing?” glare? That’s the legendary Italian actress, Sophia Loren.

The boundless expanse of cleavage and blonde to the right? That’s Jayne Mansfield, one of the quintessential late 50s, early 60s bombshells.

This photograph was taken in 1957 at Romanoff’s in Los Angeles. The occasion was a dinner honoring Italians in the motion picture industry. Jayne Mansfield, while obviously not Italian, was too big of a star in 1957 to not get invited to something like this. Having her at an event like this would ensure that the reporters would be there to cover it.

There’s a subtext to this picture, as well. See, Loren and Mansfield were on opposite ends of the sexuality dynamic in Hollywood.

Sophia Loren was all about selling sex, yes. But she was of the smile and wink school. Her allure was all about temptation without any payoff. She may have been the sort of lady that your wife wouldn’t let you near, but most importantly, she was still a lady. There were certain things that she would never do.

The same wasn’t true of Jayne Mansfield. Two years before this picture was taken she was a Playboy Playmate (a pictorial which nearly got Heff arrested on an indecency charge). She was the first big name Hollywood actress to appear nude in a film since the demise of the Hays Code, in Promises! Promises!. She wore outfits like the one above as publicity stunts, hoping and often encouraging her breasts to fall out. Her sex was overt, in your face, and with a payoff that was given to anyone who’d look for more than a second.

Sophia Loren was the epitome of the classic siren, and Jayne Mansfield was a vision of the future. Two legendary beauties, both selling sex, but both going it at it in different ways, colliding in a single moment, made timeless in an unforgettable photograph.

That’s a demonstration of the Telenoid R1, a telepresence communication robot…thing.

The idea is that the R1 will act as a physical, minimalist representation of a far, far away person sitting in front of a computer. Through a webcam, the R1′s software tracks the physical movements of said person, and moves the R1 robot accordingly. That’s the rationale to blame for the creepy as shit movements of the wormbot that you see in the video.

Right now, porn’s tech heads and lawyers are exploring the real time, peepshow-esque things that came be accomplished with the iPhone 4′s Facetime application. Just think of what they could do with the R1′s hardware slapped into something like a RealDoll. Dial into a pay per minute/pay per act service and have a real human being digital service you through nothing more than a webcam and a broadband connection.

Who needs a virtual sex doll when science is bringing real ones to our doorstep?

The worst part of this?

The really creepy people are the ones that want fuck the damn thing as-is.

Story is everywhere today, but give Pink Tentacle your traffic. They are awesome.

Abstract

A 27-year-old lady presented with persistent cough, sputum and fever for the preceding six months. Inspite of trials with antibiotics and anti-tuberculosis treatment for the preceeding four months, her symptoms did not improve. A subsequent chest radiograph showed non-homogeneous collapse-consolidation of right upper lobe. Videobronchoscopy revealed an inverted bag like structure in right upper lobe bronchus and rigid bronchoscopic removal with biopsy forceps confirmed the presence of a condom. Detailed retrospective history also confirmed accidental inhalation of the condom during fellatio.

Jaswant Rai Speciality Hospital, Meerut, India.

Via the NIH.

Ah,what a lede to kick off a Friday, and a holiday weekend Friday at that.

I figured that was the most descriptive post title I could come up with

Graffito-tagged Drawbridge from English/Russia.

The hollow pock, pock, pock of impossibly large penises being slammed into distended, leathery vaginas. This is the sound of modern porn. about 1 hour ago

-Me

Never before in my life have I been grateful that the description for something was in another language. I feel that I have been protected from a Lovecraftian brain-schism.

Also, I guess “I Dare You To Watch This” is now a running thread around here.

Because they’ve dredged up a story that’s horrendously old about an Japanese eroge called RapeLay and they end it with this stinger:

“No one should play a game where the only way to win…is to rape.”

Yes. Because something I wrote about nearly a year ago, and something Something Awful lampooned three years before that is even close to news?

At this point anyone who is aware of the eroge market in Japan knows it is fucked up and vile, but the fact that you’re resurrected a dead story to try to stir up some sensationalism is utterly pathetic.

I know you’re losing the 24 Hour News War, CNN, but at least man up and try to do some real journalism before your death rattle.

Please?

Fair warning from line one, this video has some anime tits in it. Well, hentai tits, if you want to be genre-specific. They are only up there for a half second or so, three times in total, over the course of the video, but I just wanted to put that out there before you people started griping.

Anyway.

This video is called Akihabara Majokko Princess. It is directed by McG, a mass media agent provocateur let lose by the global media concerns to kill our brains. His oeuvre, as you can see, is a questionable, if not prosecutable one.

Which makes his most recent endeavor a puzzling one.

Quick note: that video might get taken down because of previously mentioned cartoon mammaries. Google it if it vanishes.

Yes, that would be Kirsten Dunst bouncing around in the Akihabara district of Tokyo dressed like a reject from an acid trip a fetish love doll an anime character to her own version of The Vapor’s “Turning Japanese”. Now, normally I’d shrug and move along after watching this. But there’s one niggling catch to this. You see, the mad king of Japanese pop art, Takashi Murakami (the guy behind “My Lonesome Cowboy” (that link is soooooo NSFW)), is running an exhibit at the Tate Museum in London called Pop Life, Art In A Material World. And McG has some how managed to get himself rolled into it. And that music video? That’s his entry.

Which gets me thinking. Maybe I’ve missed something here. Maybe McG wasn’t just swiping a song that had a surface level reference to Japan. Maybe he picked that song because he was re-imagining the masturbatory implications of the song in terms of the Japenese cultural obsession with the fantasy world of anime. And maybe, beyond that, he’s trying to make a statement about how the West’s attempt to assimilate this otaku culture is also masturbatory and self-gratifying without doing anything to advance our own culture.

Which in thinking these thoughts makes me think another:

I hate myself for giving McG this much credit.

I’ve decided that I’m going to tell myself that Murakami just told him what to do and that McG is incapable of creating something multilayed and interesting.

Isn’t he?

Ah, my lovelies. Been away far too long, been far too quiet, I know, I know. But, it has been the holidays, and it has been fiendishly cold outside. The sort of cold that freeze the blood, the thoughts, the ideas in your brain and won’t let go of them ’til spring thaw comes.

I think the final count on the number of consecutive hours below freezing was somewhere north of a hundred. Probably closer to one twenty five. Close to a week were being out of doors was a threat on your person. We made it through in one piece, but for some bizarre reason, our dish detergent didn’t. Got a gallon of the stuff sitting on my kitchen counter right now, filled to the brim with soapy ice slush. It’s been that way for three days now. Who knew that stuff had such a high freezing temperature? The rest of the stuff in the cabinet was fine.

Anyway, consider this the static-y pop of an amp turning on and a quarter inch guitar cord being plugged in. The mic is hot, and we’re back on the air.

And here are some attractive and frightening women taking off their costumes in a Star Wars burlesque.

Star Wars Burlesque Storm Trooper Courtney Cruz

Good morning, World. The Brain Release Valve is open for business.

Remember how I told you about that horrific Japanese eroge “Real Kanojo” (”Real Girlfriend”) a few days back? Well, turns out all those special…um…”effects” the game was touting only happen if you’ve got a fairly beefy computer. People with less powerful machines are greeted with remarkably different results. As seen below:

500x_bafd57ac

Kotaku has the full gallery of such disasters here.

500x_ea23f680

This is a still from a Japanese eroge (erotic-game) called “Real Kanojo” (“Real Girlfriend”). You have the ability to virtually…umm…whatever is going on in that picture to an impossibly proportioned digital doll. Those crazy perverts even built in a facial recognition system into the “game”. If you hook up a webcam, the pixeled succubus will react to your facial cues.

Via Kotaku.



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