Live Sex Show (2011)

If the unlubricated butt fuck that qualifies as “porn” these days is apples, queer porn is a refreshingly different orange. Like one might assume, queer porn boasts a wide variety of body types whose only commonality is an absence of fake boobs and bleached buttholes. That’s not to say that a surgically enhanced starlet is any less natural than a de-breasted, silicone cock swinging transman (what’s “natural” mean anyways? Organic? Healthy?), but that the two are different and it would be unfair to compare them. But fuck it, who ever said life was fair? Oranges win. Easily.

In Courtney Trouble’s “Live Sex Show,” queer porn’s many citrusy advantages assert themselves under the guise of a stage show at the Center for Sex and Culture’s annual Masturbate-a-Thon. Though it borrows the classic sitcom trope of being “filmed in front of a live studio audience,” the Live Sex Show crowd is about as active and engaging as a canned laugh track. Possibly less so because at least a laugh track whoops it up when Urkel gets smooched on by a hottie.

But maybe that’s just because the initial scenes failed to give the audience anything to really whoop about. Grading the first half of Live Sex Show against the bulk of mainstream porn, LSS wins by a landslide. The sex is more passionate and natural than anything you’re likely to find in even mainstream porn’s more upscale lines, like the Romance series. However, Trouble and the performers still fall prey to the classic porn fallacy that filmed sex is inherently interesting. Arousing? Yes, even grainy night vision video of a poorly executed blow job can qualify as arousing. But interesting? Engaging? Filmed sex needs a little something above and beyond well-shot grinding meat to push it into Criterion Collection candidacy.

But as LSS progresses, both the live audience and the home viewer get a taste of what queer porn is capable of. Moving from a minimalist masturbatory intro past a hot, but ho-hum, hetero sex scene, LSS finally begins to grasp at the right straws when April Flores shows up to fuck a masked Matador. Watching the wonderfully curvy Flores suck dramatically lit and creepily masked cock reminded us of another modern sexually empowered movement that has brought costumes, lighting, and big girls to the stage: Burlesque. For a sex scene, Flores’ is better than most. But burlesque has learned to incorporate song, kitsch, tone, and story into its bump-and-grind routines and Flores’ sucking and fucking could use the same. Maybe she doesn’t need to lip sync over the Matador’s dick, but a hint of narrative and costumes that go beyond fishnets and ski masks could have elevated this straight forward sex scene into something really special.

Following Flores are two dykes whose scene aims a little higher. While they don’t necessarily sink the shot, they certainly touch the rim, which counts for a lot in F*Bomb’s admittedly picky grade book. The bad boy and his babe roleplay routine is cliche but the two performers put themselves into it so earnestly their adorability is undeniable. At the moments when they slip out of character and crack themselves up, the audience reacts like it’s the first breath they’ve taken all evening. The chemistry is palpable and an excellent reminder that queer porn isn’t just about gay sex, big girls, and fuzzy arm pits, but about tangible passion and excitement being exchanged between performers. If you have those elements, even the most trite porn scenarios can become genital tingling juggernauts.

If not for the climax and epilogue, maybe the rest of LSS would have held up differently, judged solely by its own merits. But Nina Hartley and Jiz Lee’s sexual exchange — which almost feels too casual to call it a “scene” — is so charming, relaxed, and downright fun, the rest of the film can’t help but come across stiff in comparison. The veteran Hartley and established up-and-comer Lee have the advantage of sexual performance experience, and it shows. They riff with each other and exchange compliments (“You have a beautiful, amazing, fantastic fucking pussy!”) as they fist, finger, and fulfill each other, all the while making safe sex practices look erotically unobtrusive. Jiz Lee evens tries to interact with the audience (“Can I see a penis?”) and elicits a few giggles.

Live Sex Show peaks one final time with a multi-person dog pile on Courtney Trouble. Hartley and Lee’s digital exchange (not the computer kind…) appears to have broken the spell of semi-seriousness that hung over the first half of the show. The amount of talent poking, prodding, and pleasuring Trouble is a good indicator of queer porn to come. Once this new genre discovers what it is that makes it not an apple, once it finds its own unique fruity flavor, the entirety of porn will benefit. Lee and Hartley have demonstrated the truth in George Michael’s famous words, “Sex is natural, sex is fun, sex is best when it’s one on one.” Well, maybe the dog pile on Trouble disproves that last bitm but sex is about human interaction, not smooshing genitalia. Live Sex Show is consistently good but the scenes that capture that element are the ones that arouse and excite the most, making the sex show really come… alive.

Click here to purchase Live Sex Show and watch the trailer.

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More Posts About Phones and Sex

The first phone call took place on March 10, 1876 when Alexander Graham Bell rang up his assistant and said, “Mr. Watson, come here. I want to see you.” Change “Mr. Watson” to “Hey baby” and you’ve got a rough facsimile of every booty call that’s been made since. For some reason, phones are unavoidably sexual. Whether you’re reaching out to touch someone, asking them to come over and touch you, or just jamming a hotel phone headset into a groupie’s pussy and making her call her mom (like Mötley Crüe did), phones are phallic symbols we all constantly raise to our faces and whisper into.

Of course, if somehow you never made the phone-phallus connection or haven’t been lucky enough to get talked off with a phone cord wrapped around your neck, the following video will cue you in on everything you’ve been missing. Phones are fun. Phones are sexy. Phones were shown in porn all the time back when porn showed more things than double anal and San Fernando Valley McMansions. God, porn sucks now.

Fortunately, as awesome as jacking off in phone booths and making obscene calls to the operator was, phones are even better for sex now than they’ve ever been. So please watch this video, bask in its retro-rotary glory and then sext someone you care about an Instagram of a Sharpie stuck up your butt.

Untitled from Rebecca Cooper on Vimeo.

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He Gives Me Head

Until recently, we though there were only three musics worth listening to. Not genres of music mind you, but just “musics.” If you want to chill out/read/work at a desk/have mellow sex, listen to Brian Eno’s Ambient series. If you want to clean your house or have off the walls sex, listen to the album Beauty and the Beat by the Go-Gos. That album also gets extra points because you can see half of a Go-Go’s nip on the back cover. For any other situation, the song “In A Big Country” by the band Big Country will suffice. Or so we thought.

The other day we discovered a new music that blew our fucking minds. Normally, friends try to shove things down our throat and we promptly vomit like an unexperienced deep throater. Lady Gaga? The Cure? Crass? What the fuck ever. 99.99999999999969% of the music the world has produced is the product of energy not wasted on sex. So who cares? But then we discovered a new music. A possible fourth music. And holy fucking tits on a sacred cow is it good.

Listen to this:

“Can you tell what’s on my mind?
She’s with him, it drives me wild
I’d like to hit him on the head
until he’s dead
The sight of blood is such a high”

Wow. As cool as getting high off blood and fantasizing about braining people with some type of heavy object (brick? wrench? lead pipe in the study?) are as subject matter for the opening lines of a song, that’s just the tip of Elton Motello’s rock hard lyrical dick. Like a true word-pervert, Elton saved the really good shit for the chorus.

“Jet boy I’m gonna make him penetrate
I’m gonna make you be a girl…”

And of course,

“Ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo
He gives me head”

Whoooooooa! What sort of music is this? Proto-bubble gum pop punk glam rock jammer with lyrics detailing the love affair between a jealous 15 year old boy and his older male companion who leaves him for a… ugh, fucking female?! How is this a real thing and why did no one tell us about this sooner? Obviously this guy was just a one-hit wonder, right?

“You are just a bum
and I know nobody’s worse
You can use your tongue
until the hate comes out in spurts”

Damn. That’s also a real good start to a music song. And the… melody? Whatever that is called is good too. Then there is this lyric which we couldn’t find online so we had to old fashioned ear translate it:

“Hey Jenny, don’t get mad and don’t think I’m a creep
the ripples in your hair and braces on your teeth
the things are when you’re flirting
brings around the thrust
and realize that passion can
eliminate your trust”

Ummm… so that is pretty rapey. But then again, it’s pretty straight forward sex talk for the seventies even if Elton is talking about being down to “thrust” up in a girl with braces and “eliminate her trust.” Damn, that’s simultaneously awesome and creepy as fuck. Like, dude, don’t thrust in underage girls or violate their trust but please keep singing pervy lyrics! The Sex Pistols fronted on some Nazi shit and this song is better than any of the turds they squeezed out, so maybe let’s chalk it up to shock and move on.

This guy has a pre-ejaculation problem where apparently he can’t help from killing it right out the gate.

“Artificial Incemination (sic)
It’s a word that’s coming fast”

Get it!? Like “cumming?” Sweet joke Elton. No wait, he’s got more. He follows it up with a “shape of things to come” reference and then a chorus call back chanting, “Do the sperm.” And the whole song is about mutant test tube babies. Fuck, this guy is a genius. We give in. There are now four musics. Maybe…. just maybe, a fifth if anyone has suggestions in the comments. We’ll try not to gag.

PS: Like the photo at the top suggests, Elton also banged out a track called “Teen Pimp.” Is it as good as it sounds? Fucking better. Unfortunately, searching “teen pimp” on YouTube just pulls up old Maury videos so know this: It’s a song called “Teen Pimp.” If you didn’t get why that’s awesome A.) check the title B.) fuck off and C.) listen to the song. Elton starts off by singing, “I’m just a kid that walks the streets of hell.” The rest of the song is about teen-pimpery. What’s not to love?

PPS: Get the album here and find out for yourself: HERE.

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Going Greek

Like every online publication worth reading, F*Bomb is built on the backs of toiling, unpaid interns. Since we draw most of our slave labor promising young talent from the University of Texas, we get to hear twenty somethings bitch about all kinds of stuff we don’t even vaguely comprehend. A Skrillex is a type of Trapper Keeper right? Anyways, apparently last weekend was a big event for the hetero-normative Aryan super soldiers that populate the fraternities and sororities surrounding UT’s campus. Our interns wouldn’t stop whining about how “dumb” and “douchey” all the “bros” and “sororistitutes” were and what a “flaming ass-trap” West Campus was. Seriously, we can barely understand these kids and would probably fire the lot of them if they weren’t so knowledgeable about XXX tube sites (and such good sports about the office’s rampant sexual harassment problem.)

But then, all of the complaining interns inspired us to look into what this Roundup thing was all about. Here’s what the official Texas Exes website had to say:

Round-Up is a heavily Greek occasion. Fraternities host parties on Friday night and all Saturday, while sororities open up their houses for an array of gastronomical indulgences.

Let’s break it down. Everybody knows “greek” is standard prostitute slang for anal sex. So a “heavily Greek occasion” basically means a “big butt-fucking party.”

And gastronomical indulgences? They’ve gotta be talking about shit like this, right?

Of course they are. What else could “gastronomic indulgence” mean?

And then what about these Friday/Saturday parties? The article doesn’t go into the obvious pagan orgiastic roots of the system’s rituals, but it’s safe to assume that frat dudes have been sacrificing roofied virgins and engaging in homo-erotic pageantry since long before they were legally required to accept minority students.

Later in the article it mentions that Roundup signifies the start of “rush,” the seduction process used to lure young high school students into the fraternities’ beer soaked trap of brotherhood. That’s what those previously mentioned Friday and Saturday parties are all about. The fraternities open up their secret chambers to give the barely legal recruits an eyeful of what college life will be like. Since none of the frat’s invited us to their secret soirees, we had to search for “barely legal frat parties” on the Internet to find out what the deal was. Turns out they’re about more than just rape jokes and alcohol poisoning. In reality, fraternities are all about…. NAKED DANCE PARTIES!

Wild dances from Active Naturists on Vimeo.

The video is kind of lame until it hits the 1:00 minute mark. Then it’s just a buff dude buffet with all the swanging dick you can feast your eyes on. Too bad none of them “go Greek” on camera.

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Chow Down (on Dick-fil-A)

In case you hadn’t heard, Chick-fil-A is not down with the gays. Their charity side project, the Winshape Foundation, throws buckets of money at all kinds of super Christian, no-homo organizations. Since the company is run by Bapstists and thus all about old timey family values, they also don’t think two men should be able to get married. Probably not two women either. Damn, they probably don’t even think two men should be listening to Wham! in the same room without some kind of supervisor.

Of course, things like this really shouldn’t come as too big of a surprise. The Supreme Court has been very clear about the fact that corporations are totally people now and just like regular people, there’s gonna be some homophobic jerk-holes up in the mix. Coors has hated unions for about as long as they’ve been making shitty beer and Walmart is rude to just about everyone except the occasional disabled guy they hire as a greeter. If you really wanted to examine all the big corporations’ behavior like they were actual flesh and blood people (you’d be making a boring documentary), corporate America would be the biggest pack of assholes you’d ever seen. Saying “faggot” on the reg and voting Republican would look harmless next to all the polluting and poisoning and hiring mercenaries to kill people in countries with names that are hard to pronounce.

So corporations are assholes. What are you going to do, stop buying their bad-ass products? Doubtful. Protest at your college campus? Oh yeah, that’s really going to show them who’s boss. What about making a super sweet parody video of an old Wilson Phillip’s jammer that calls Chik-fil-A out on their bullshit but also is funny and has rapping drag queens? Whoa… fuck. That’s actually a really good idea.

So aside from all the hilarious one liners and that one ultra hot drag queen with the short blonde hair, the best part about this video is the message that eating Chick-fil-A is fine as long as you’re really gay about it. We don’t know how to make Internet petitions (and were too lazy to Google it) but maybe if all gay people promised that every time they ate Chick-fil-A they would immediately go have the gayest sex possible, ideally in the Chick-fil-A bathroom, the owner, S. Truett Cathy, would get so upset he would have a heart attack and die. Because he’s 91. And his last name is Cathy, which is pretty gay. Look at this guy. What a homophobic billionaire nonagenarian douche.

And why is he drinking a milkshake with Barbara Bush? Fuck you, dude.

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Intersections of Punk Rock and Erotic Performance Art

This is a post about a SXSW party called “Intersections of Erotic Performance Art and Pornography.” All of the details are on the Facebook event here. However, since they don’t really have a flyer or anything that visually interesting up for the event, we decided to use a photo of the first thing that comes to mind when we hear, “erotic performance art:” Wendy O. Williams. Here are the party deets.

The SXSW sex party is being held at the Butterfly Bar, which is close to the laundromat that sells the best breakfast tacos in Austin. We’ve never been to Butterfly Bar because their sign is a butterfly with a wine opener for a body, but we’re excited to check it out tomorrow what with all the erotic performance art happenings. The event is being put on by Femina Potens and Madison Young and will be hosted by Julie Gillis of Bedpost Confessions. There will be a bunch of porn performers doing performance art (or is it performance artists doing porn?) and video and discussions about questions like:

“Where does conceptual performance work end and where does our libido begin? Is queer feminist pornography inherently progressive? How do queer performance artists who are also in radical pornography decipher the difference between what is art & what is porn?”

In other words, it will be one of those parties where you get to see boobs, talk about sex, AND feel cultured and smart, all at the same time. It’s a win-win situation.

WHAT: “Intersections of Erotic Performance Art & Pornography”

WHEN: March 12th, 8:00PM

WHERE: Butterfly Bar, 2307 Manor Road

TICKETS: Buy ‘em here

And here’s a video of what we hope the party looks like. If no one cuts a guitar in half with a chainsaw while wearing whipped cream and clothes pins on her tits, we’re going to be severely disappointed.


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And the Worst Tattoos for 2012 are…

The inky squiggle you see on this man’s belly is supposedly two mosquitoes smoking weed. That this Rorshachian cum stain didn’t even place at the Worst Tattoo in Austin II is a testament to how brain-poppingly terrible the competition was this year. In almost every way, this year’s contest outdid 2011′s trial run. There were way more pants dropped on stage, less contestants got so wasted they wandered off before collecting their prize (though some were certainly drunk enough to make climbing onto the stage to claim their prize look daunting), and the tattoos were worse. So much worse.

Since Worst Tattoo in Austin is made possible by the generous shops who donate prize bait to lure contestants to the stage with, we should probably thank them before announcing the winners. Bijou Studios, Shaman Modification, Sailor’s Grave, Austin Tattoo Company, and Atomic Tattoo… thanks for your support. You guys rock. Also big thanks to Michael Foulk, Zack Carlson, and Mike Wiebe who served as judges and helped F*Bomb editor-in-chief/host Devon Tincknell heap scorn upon the competitors.

Anyways, on to the winners. Since we had a ton of tattoo prizes to give out and had previously decided categories were for chumps, all of the categories were created in hindsight and awarded accordingly. All photos were taken by the excellent and amazing Jessie Pages.

Most Legitimately Rad Tattoo

Tattoos like this are what make explaining Worst Tattoo in Austin to people so frustrating. It’s a pizza fighting a taco. That is simultaneously idiotic… AND FUCKING BAD ASS! We saluted this dude for having such a radical and well done tattoo by giving him a big ole gift certificate to Bijou Studios. People with tattoos like this need to understand that when we say “worst” we really just mean “epically strange and weird,” and that we’re trying to give them a prize.

Best Metal As Fuck Tattoo

It’s Jesus Christ with King Diamond style corpse paint. When this dude got his prize he announced that his next tattoo was going to be a black power Jesus. “Another brother from the Holy Mother.” Fuck yes, we sincerely hope he follows through and comes back next year and wins with it.

Drunkest Contestant With Most Well Done Tattoo

This girl probably would have faired better with the judges and audience if she hadn’t been so unbelievably wasted. Her tattoo is a portrait of Bruce Willis with a quote from Last Boy Scout (the second best action movie of the nineties), which is awesome. However, she was so drunk she kept trying to quote a different line from the movie over and over, which just confused everybody and made them think she was talking shit to a friend in the crowd.

Best Tattoo Explanation

This metal warrior was also bartending the event. The Ace Frehley with pizza shooting out of his eyes (his eyes aren’t being gouged out with pizza. We asked.) is pretty epic but this dude definitely won for the simple rationale he gave for his shitty tattoo. It’s a girl shooting up spray paint and when asked to justify it, he just muttered, “It was the mid-nineties…” which was a more than good enough reason for the judges.

Most Horrifying Tattoo

This guy has two kids. We pray that they rarely come face to face with the nightmare on his lower back. If you’re thinking that it looks like some prison rendered cross between the Joker and Alex from A Clockwork Orange, that’s because it pretty much is. The guy said he explained his concept to the guy at the shop and then gave him artistic license. Bad call, bro.

Worst High School Relic Tattoo

A lot of people justify their shitty tattoos by saying, “It was a reminder of a period in my life.” Well, that sucks for you if what you chose to remember was being a high school emo kid. You could have done what most folks did and thrown away your Saves the Day and New Found Glory CDs as soon as you got out of high school and written the thing off as a bad memory, but no, you got “emo kid” tattooed in a heart on your butt. Yeesh.

Best Dick Tattoo

This guy was a walking talking worst tattoo competition. In addition to having 666 in Roman numerals on his dong, he had like 14 different shit tattoos including a dung beetle and a “retard shitting his pants.” This guy will probably be a real estate agent some day.

The Finalists

Clint Howard Portrait Tattoo

The judges narrowed the competition down to three finalists and then let the audience scream loudly to determine the overall winner. Clint Howard portrait tattoo was an obvious contender because the guy got it on a dare and it’s a fucking tattoo of Clint Howard so come on! Also, judge Zack Carlson happened to have Clint’s personal phone number which he gave to this guy so he could call Clint up and tell him he won a prize.

Garth

It’s a story as old as time. Drunk and crusty teenagers and some home tattoo supplies. This tattoo is what Worst Tattoo is all about. The crowd really wanted him to use his prize money for a Chris Gaines tattoo. No pain, no Chris Gaines.

Dana Deline

Okay so spoiler alert: This chick won. Not for this arm tattoo on her arm but for a different tattoo which we will get to in a minute. We just wanted to say, umm, it was one of those “you had to be there” sort of things. Her tattoo isn’t as terrible as many of the others bared onstage that evening, but she also had a Precious Moments Jesus tattoo and some Fleetwood Mac lyrics and the sum total really earned her a lot of points with the crowd. Anyways, here is the…

Worst Tattoo in Austin II

While we at F*Bomb in no way seek to downgrade and diminish Dana’s victory, it’s a fucking cigarette and we can understand how some readers might be confused. After last year’s contest, people kept coming up to us and going, “Chili Cook Off 09?! That’s bullshit. My friend ____ has a way worse tattoo.” Well guess what? Your friend _____ didn’t come and compete and this chick did so she won a bad ass prize for her cigarette tattoo. She won $200 worth of free tattooing at Shaman Modification (so did the runners up… shhh!) and now has the honor of possessing the Worst Tattoo in Austin 2012.

However, all things being equal, there were some worse tattoos. Of course, many different qualities get factored into the competition and these folks didn’t take home top prize for several reasons (the primary one being a concern that they would trade their prize for meth money) but these tattoos are truly fucking awful and need some recognition.

The (Actual) Worst Tattoos in Austin

On the left is a Dave Mathews Band tattoo. On the right is a toilet full of cops being shit upon. The DMB tattoo was on a girl who the judges were convinced was on meth. The police toilet is proudly worn by a 50 year old crust punk (maybe he’s just in his thirties. Crust punks tend to age more rapidly than normals) named Dumpster. Dumpy for short.

Ugh, God those are awful tattoos. Anyways, congratulations to all our winners, except maybe those last two, and thanks to all the sponsors and judges and 29th Street Ballroom and everyone who came out.

Oh and here’s the one pussy tattoo. She didn’t win but we thought we should throw it in for good measure.

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Calling All Smut Peddlers

F*Bomb’s super awesome BFFs Bike Smut are gearing up (get it?!) for their sixth year of bicycle powered pornography. The fact that a bicycle-meets-fucking touring film festival made it beyond the pedicabber pipe dream stage to become an actual phenomenon is impressive on its own, but to be on the road spreading free wheeling film filth for SIX FUCKING YEARS is insane. Congrats to Bike Smut on the anniversary and now a message to you dear readers.

Bike Smut is made possible by perverts like you. Without films, there’s no film festival. That’s why all of you cinematic creeps should cobble together a ragtag band of misfits and make your own bike porno submission for this year’s fest, Turning Trixxx. Bike Smut doesn’t release DVDs or put stuff online so you can fuck hard and ride fixed while resting assured that only small groups of huddled viewers will watch your film at a time. If you’re interested in submitting a film to Bike Smut, you can find all the pertinent info here. Also, if you’re in Austin and interested in making a dirty movie with bikes, please e-mail [email protected]. We’re submitting this year and would love to have you be a part of our hard peddling porno project.

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Use Your Head

You pretty much have to go into this one knowing nothing.

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Worst Tattoo 2: Attend or Die

Alright. Tomorrow is the second annual Worst Tattoo in Austin contest and it’s going to be amazing. We guarantee it. Sailor Jerry’s threw us a case of rum for cheap ass drinks, the Mole People are doing a tribute to iconic punk tats, and the Jezebelles are performing burlesque that rules. You know how some burlesque sucks and it’s just a girl with a boner for Bettie Page showing you side boob? Well, when we talked to the Jezebelles they described that as the thing they were not. The thing they are involves heavy metal and tarps! Fucking tarps! Awesome.

Details!
Where: 29th St Ballroom 2906 Fruth St., Austin, TX 78705
When: Tomorrow Feb 23rd 8PM
How much: $5

So here is a video from last year. Here is the Facebook event. Here is the poster again. Come to this event or you will regret it for the rest of your life… just like the person who wins Worst Tattoo in Austin won’t feel about their newly recognized tattoo.

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