Naked and Unafraid to Seymore Butts

I housesat for a friend last weekend — mostly to enjoy her nice pad, hot tub and cute cats. An added bonus is that she has Showtime, enabling me to catch Penn and Teller’s Bullshit! show, (great show) and the much-hyped Family Business. The Penn and Teller show was great, even better that I ran into Penn at this year’s Adult Video News Awards convention. He was tall and very sweaty, (evidence photo on left) and being mobbed by all kinds of circus sideshow porn chicks and suitcase-pimp types. But last weekend, finally watching Family Business was the sort-of highlight, the "reality" TV show about Adam Glasser (aka Seymore Butts) and his gonzo porn business, partially staffed by his family members.

I really like Adam Glasser’s porn, for many reasons. It’s basically like his own home movies, except that his friends are all in the porn business and like to have sex a lot. So the viewer gets the vicarious thrill ride of unscripted, off the cuff sex (the trademark of gonzo porn), but with seasoned sex performers who are having sex because they want to — not because they have to. At least that’s what it feels like: porn stars letting their hair down. Lots of real female orgasms, and the occasional joy of women penetrating the guys (and making them come like firehoses). If you don’t mind the in between scenes of Adam’s shoegazing camera while he’s on the phone, they’re great masturbation material. And Glasser is smart, and quite witty, which reminds you that your porn is coming from someone who has a brain — something that’s important to me, anyway. I became interested in Glasser a while back when he won an obscenity trial, detailed in my article Adam Glasser, Fisting and the Law.

Family Business is a pithy half an hour long — surprising in an industry that is extremely interesting, and wholly undocumented in any unbiased fashion. But unfortunately, this "reality" TV show is packed with filler, about two-thirds very forced scenes of his mom (Glasser’s accountant) and his uncle "just going about their lives" and one third Glasser doing his job — and looking for love. Actually, the show veers between trying really hard to present the family members as characters and coming off as a big personal ad for Glasser.

Too bad on both counts, because Glasser himself is very interesting, and if the writers, or "comic stylists" as they’re listed in the credits, would stop trying to make the family members lives fit into Hollywood’s expectations of what they think would be funny, the show could transcend itself and be very provocative. It’s like the writers forgot the "show don’t tell" rule of writing. Oh, and don’t think for a minute that "reality TV" isn’t scripted. It is. Check out Glasser’s porn on your own, and take Family Business with a big grain of salt.

Meanwhile in reality, I’ve been a member of machine arts group Survival Research Laboratories for over seven years. We’re a diverse and talented group of people who are very close, even with members who live far away, and at age 32, I’m the youngest member. Sadly, one of our dear friends Tim North has been recently and suddenly diagnosed with a lengthy list of cancers, including pancreatic. Severe abdominal pain took him to the ER last month, then an "open and shut" surgery, and they sent him home. Time is very, very short for him. Reality is sobering for all of us. Tim and his wife and daughter had just moved, changed jobs, and were one month from the start of their health insurance.

In an outpouring of love and support from our community, we are all pooling our resources and putting on a huge, fantastic benefit to raise money for Tim and his family. The Tim North benefit will be on Tuesday March 25 at SOMArts cultural center in San Francisco, from 8-12 PM. The entertainment will be an incredible list of performers, many of whom are internationally renowned and making rare public appearances — including my favorite marching band. There will be an auction, raffle, stuff to buy, and all proceeds go directly to the North family. I’m even donating some mystery porn packages!

In addition, SRL has been burning the midnight oil to create the official SRL Nudie calendar! That’s right, us machine geeks peel off our coveralls and pose with our machines and tools in and out of the SRL shop, in a high gloss, full-color 15 month calendar. These calendars will be on sale at the benefit for $25, and not only to you get hot male and female mechanics au natural, but I stripped twice and appear more than four times. See me in white panties engaged in a sloppy girl-girl scene with the sexiest machine in the world, the Running Machine. (Images here are taken by a not-very-innocent bystander) It was chilly on the shop floor, and okay, that’s maple syrup and molasses (not motor oil which is very carcinogenic). But after years of working on the Running Machine and operating it, getting down and dirty and naked with her was one of the highlights of my life.

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Fly the Big, Squishy Skies

The restaurant chain Hooters — what a throwback to the dinosaur era! This sports bar/celebration of artery-clogging bar food has made its name for over 20 years by providing a respite from the world for the guy who wants his beer, boobs and touchdowns all in one spot. Men who can only be with men. Actually, while Hooters has been an employer for a few of my gal pals who don’t mind making a little more money but don’t want to be strippers, I kind of like the concept.

Not for the sexist stereotypes — and those stereotypes include the male patrons. But because I like beautiful women too, and would love to spend an evening in a bar being served by a cute girl with nice boobies, and it’s okay for me to stare openly at the boobies. Except I wouldn’t want to hang out in a Hooters. I’m sure the patrons would be really crass, and the worst part would be that the waitresses probably wouldn’t be into flirting with other girls. I still think it’s a pretty funny cliché, though, even better that it’s a living piece of retro-sexist Americana. Besides, the role-reversed version would probably be lame.

Which is why I’m having fantasies about the new Hooters airline (beware, their graphics take about 100 years to load).

You read it right — Hooters has bought an ailing (one of many, I’m sure) airline on the East Coast, and has created their own flight service. The imagination runs wild, no? Packs of top-heavy stewardesses in little uniforms, unable to fit two to an aisle (or one to a restroom). Beverage service that includes inadvertent smacks upside the head by a mammoth bobbling breast as the window-seated passenger gets his scotch. Weight limit requirements for each boob. Equal numbers of flight attendants in front and rear of plane required for balanced takeoff. The snacks are Gummy Boobs. The drinks are Slippery Nipples. The drop-down oxygen masks are nestled in huge plastic D-cups. Flotation vests are two enormous inflatable pink breasts (what if only one inflates? Oh no!).

Okay, maybe it’s not that fun. In truth, Hooters’ lone plane has been re-styled to reflect the restaurant’s beach theme atmosphere, and only two Hooters girls will be on each flight — in skimpy Hooters restaurant uniforms, "just to be friendly." Sadly, there are only a few flights selected with male golfers in mind, to and from Atlanta/Myrtle Beach. It looks as though the chances of contact with actual boobage — real or gummy — are nil. It’s more like the old days, when airline hostesses were dressed to thrill male passengers, as depicted in the unintentionally sexy book, Airline. I guess I’ll have to nurture my sexy 1960’s flight attendant fantasies on my own time.

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The Oral Sex Bill of Rights

There has been lots in the news lately about this program at Exeter University (UK) that does sex ed. with kids called "A Pause" that teaches the benefits of oral sex in lieu of intercourse. Of course, they’re getting all kinds of hell from "family" groups who think that kids’ sexuality is best left ignored — hence Britain’s highest pregnancy rates in Europe! I’m sure their STD rates are nothing to sneeze at either, since they won’t even tell the kids how not to get pregnant. Anyway, I proudly support their efforts, and am sending them copies of the two oral sex guides I wrote, just to help out. I mean, when you were a teen, your hormones were raging, no? Mine were. I would’ve loved some great head, and to be able to give some in return without feeling all confused and mixed up (and yet turned on) by the whole thing. All teens — and everyone else — should know their oral sex rights.

Here’s a widely linked article, thanks to Daze Reader.

So, I’m drafting an Oral Sex Bill of Rights. It goes like this:< We The Orally Fixated People, who love to lick, suck and grin with juicy lips, sore jaws and throbbing groins, in order to give and receive more perfect head, establish rights and guarantees to ensure the bliss of busy mouths, slippery genitals, and satisfaction for all:

Amendment 1 There shall be no laws restricting an individual from giving or receiving great head, as there currently are in Alabama, Arizona, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Louisiana, Michigan, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Utah and Virginia.

Amendment 2 A well-lubricated set of lips, being necessary to the enjoyment of fellatio or cunnilingus shall not be infringed. Keep a glass of water by the bed.

Amendment 3: No one shall dribble hot chocolate sauce, slather with whipped cream, drizzle honey, or insert peeled bananas on or in any genitals without the appropriate accompanying screeches and giggles of the recipient.

Amendment 4: The seizing of a hard penis or plump clit into a wet and willing mouth may only happen with probable cause, and if done so quickly as a surprising shock of pleasure to the recipient, must be preceded by a wicked, knowing grin.

Amendment 5: No person shall be held accountable for coming "too soon" as a result of getting excellent head.

Amendment 6: In all public encounters, the recipient must be granted the right to a speedy orgasm, but allow the person going down on them easy access through clothing and the assurance of a watchful eye.

Amendment 7: In all cases of oral sex, when the giver has found the sweet stroke and appropriate rhythm leading to orgasm, they shall not stop, but continue the repetition to completion, barring jaw, tongue, neck, or leg cramps.

Amendment 8: Oral sex shall always be considered a sex act, on par with intercourse, not anything less.

Amendment 9: Everyone has the right to enrich their knowledge of the oral arts, and to experiment freely, deliciously, lubriciously and wearing any type of uniform or costume they so choose, on any subject who craves their oral attentions and outfits like a drink of water in the desert. This is the right to experiment.< Amendment 10: The powers of a skilled and deft tongue, or a tightly wrapped pair of lips, are reserved to the owner of the mouth, and are to be enjoyed guiltlessly by whomever is the lucky recipient of their ministrations (unless guilt fantasies make you hot, or power exchange drives you both over the orgasmic edge). Orgasms in the mouth, or ejaculate landing anywhere else, are the reserved judgement call of the "giver.

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Tiny Sex

I’ve learned HTML from a book as I’ve gone along, and this site is my first, so I had a nice morning when I woke up to a perky review from Jane’s Guide and some nice ratings. It made me take a little stroll down memory lane.

The good times (lots of praise from clever readers, interviews), bad times (too much wine, trying to update, and a denial of service attack on my server = a bad night) and the really bizarre (filthy propositions from Elvis impersonators).

And my goals: more oral sex, lots of good porn to watch, a refrigerator full of gourmet cheese — oh, and a web site full of thoughtful sex info. I’ve been trying to present sex and porn in a non-cheesy atmosphere, i.e., no New Age "this is stroking dewdrops of the passion lotus," or "goddess spot" crap, and no serious usage of terms like "a pop in the pooper," or "cum guzzling" (I hate the spelling, too). And no "nubs" — no way, no how. What’s a nub anyway?

But you can’t be serious about sex, it’s way too much fun. The faces, the noises. So I tweak my web site regularly, pinch its butt, chase it around the desk, make it file everything in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet when it wears a skirt to work, and try to make it — and everybody reading — blush rosy pink all over. I’ve been tinkering with ways to make it come up better in search engines, which is finally starting to work, but I admit that my secret guilty pleasure has been seeing how other people are finding Tiny Nibbles: their search parameters. So now, my guilty pleasure. I will share the latest words that get Tiny Nibbles rubbed by mouses all over the world — and keep me fascinated about what’s on people’s minds.

A sample of Tiny Nibbles search strings:

Porn for Couples: Couples deserve good porn. Why is it so hard to find? I have two articles on couples and porn, and porn for couples, but it really depends on the couple. Much of the "couples porn" made by the porn industry is utter soft-focus garbage, because pornographers think that the addition of a woman to the porn viewership equation means that they have to water it down. Not necessarily true. So it makes sense that couples are looking for quality porn to watch together — and I’ve got you covered in my next book.

Fellatio: Mmmm, I like to search for — whoah, I mean wow, what a popular subject. What a great subject. What a firm, lengthy topic. Sigh.

Oral Sex: Now we’re talkin’. These people are coming to the right place. Their credit is good here.

Rimming: Now, where in the heck does a fine upstanding red-blooded American girl find information about rimming? I mean, what a wholesome pastime. Back it on up!

I did write a book on cunnilingus, but my motivations weren’t all altruism — I wanted a dreamy, fantasy world where I got great head all the time, and all my girlfriends got great head all the time too. So, here’s to the future, one tongue at a time.

Now this makes sense. I live here. Though I bet that most of these horny searchers aren’t looking for the tiny brunette sex writer machine arts mechanic motorcycle riding bookworm who likes red wine, chocolate croissants and coffee in the morning, horror films and popcorn, and big big pranks. No, they’re probably looking for the blonde porn starlet who appeared around two years ago with my name (not okay), and who is very very blonde and a closet hippie (ew!) and sucked off a big fake dragon in Whore of the Rings. They’re probably disappointed. I am too. That dragon was so fake.

Tiny Sex: Hee. I love this one. But my girly hard-on for cuteness turned into a big floppy softie when I found out that "tiny sex" is a term for online sex, or "cybering." Not that cybering is bad, I’ve tried it and it was pretty fun anonymous sex, but I thought for sure that tiny sex was this. Or this. Or at least this.

What are you hoping to find when you search for nibbles? Is this a code for some cool weird sex thing involving marmots, molasses or sphincters that can chew gum? Can someone enlighten me?

Hymen Anatomy: Yikes. Okay, here’s what I think. I think that this is being searched for by either: a) teens who have lost their virginity and are panicking and don’t have a Planned Parenthood they can go to for answers; b) adult women who are experiencing pain during intercourse and are wondering if it’s the remnants of their hymen (hymeneal tags, everyone with a vagina has them); or c) REALLY creepy guys and I don’t even want to think about it. But how it leads to Tiny Nibbles, I don’t know.

Ah, the sublime contemplation of girl on girl porn. How dirty. After a serious spanking, they should be directed here.

Anyway, why stop with the labia? Shave the whole pussy.

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Boot Camp for the Female Ego

Every month or so here in SF there is an informal get-together called Dorkbot where a small group of extremely smart computer geeks, machine makers and high tech artists gather to watch informal presentations by peers. It’s where we all learn about new stuff and what each other are up to, and the loose tagline is "people doing strange things with electricity." I was a presenter once, and my topic with demonstrations was "Bizarre but True Tales of Sex and Electricity (with demonstration)." I did a lengthy Power Point presentation chronicling the birth of electricity and its immediate use to cure "hysteria" all the way to the modern vibrator, electricity and S/M and fantasy and fact about modern sex machines. Then a demo, with volunteers from the audience. It was a blast! James Brown — will the real sex machine please stand up?

But I went to the last one and ended up walking out. Here is the text from an email I sent a friend about the evening:

But you know, I didn’t stay to see the (name withheld) thing — I walked out when he was saying how hot chicks get when they "ride" his machines, and "how wet" the Dutch journalist got. Ugh! Oh — I mean, what a man, that (name withheld). Plus it was after he couldn’t tell me how his machines are controlled. I mean, I already knew (name withheld’s) deal, that he doesn’t make his stuff but uses it as a booty magnet. But that bullshit — especially in such an enlightened room and atmosphere — just made me realize that I was spending time listening to it when I really needed to dye my hair, you know?

Besides, I had to have perfect hair for this party I went to last night. I’ve always wanted to "pack." That’s a queer term for when a woman (a dyke or a male FTM) wears a strap-on under her jeans. They usually use softies made of silicone to give the effect of having a man’s bulge. But not me! I thought it would be fun to twist even that genderfuck, and so I went as a femmed up punk girl, and had a semi-hard big boy snaking down my leg. Shiny red lipstick, tight black jeans, dog collar — firm dick! Way fun. I danced until four in the morning while the Extra Action Marching Band played in its entire Dionysian splendor. A full horn section, sexy, dirty flag girls (and boys) hanging from scaffolding… It was like being in a decadent scene in a Fellini film, all very sexual and La Dolce Vita

So now I am hungover. But I had to end this email on a high sex-gender-queer positive note, being the Pollyanna of porn and all…

His reply was: now this is an email from my ol pal violet, not that cloistered pornwatching, ink-stained wretch I haven’t been hearing from for way way too long!

So, it’s weird when someone you know acts lame and says sexist stuff like the "artist" I mentioned above. It just reminded me of the creepy guys I saw at the Adult Video News Awards convention I attended in January. Not the pornographers — though many were very smart and funny, some were extremely freaky (in a soulless way) — I mean the "fans." It was intense to see literally hoards of guys pressing their cameras literally into women’s asscracks when the women would bend over to pick up a pen. I took a lot of pictures of these guys, I was fascinated by them in the same way you slow down to look at a car crash. They didn’t even notice me.

Okay, one mullet-head saw me.

I did have a lot of fun at AVN, though. I saw some amazing mullets.I saw people who were living caricatures of themselves in ways that Hollywood could never imitate. I wore my mechanic’s clothes and talked to everyone. There were three gay men there, and they were very nice. I found a cool Tiki bar with no gambling in it. Harrah’s charged me for my room three times and I’ll never stay there again. I met a cool freaky extreme art pornographer named Joe Gallant, who is a big SRL fan.

My coworkers at Good Vibes from the video department were very rude to me. Bridgette Kerkove put her arm around me and her boobs are very hard. I hung out with the Real Doll people and their dolls a lot, and they (the humans) were funny and cool. They said that they make the dolls (out of silicone) in big human-sized boxes with lids — like coffins (my words — they concurred).

I stuck my fingers in many weird fake orifices and took pictures of other people doing the same thing — and laughing. I met some big-timers, Juli Ashton kissed my sock monkey (insert your "touch my monkey" jokes here), and I met a lot of incredible and extremely smart women. By the same token, I met a lot of women who looked shell-shocked, had undergone freakish surgical alterations, and looked like they didn’t want to be there. Boot camp for the female ego? Perhaps. I did a lot of research for the book I was finishing and had a glimpse of humanity that was the most interesting I’ve ever seen. I think porn isn’t as simple as heroes or victims — it’s both, and more. Next year my publisher will want me to "make an appearance" because by then my book about porn will have been out for a while, but I think I’d rather just walk around and take interesting pictures.

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