The Lucky 13, or a Reflection on Smut Past.

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Another One Bites The Dust

So, we told another friend about our secret life as V+R. A friend we don't see terribly often, but have known for quite a while. A friend who is chronically difficult to impress. A friend we expected to roll his eyes and say, "ugh, of course you do." He's a curmudgeon, which is why we like him.

The response we actually got really threw us for a loop, "Holy shit. No wonder you guys are so happy together." After we'd recovered from our hearts growing a size, it really made us think.

A dramatic representation of my heart growing a size. It busted that flimsy shirt right open!

Three years in, it's crazy how much we're still learning from this experience.

On D'Angelo's Direct Responsibility For Most Of My Sexuality

On January 11th, 2000, D'Angelo's Voodoo was released. It kicked off the most sexual year of my young life, and nothing got me thinking about this more than a recent BuzzFeed post, "Hey Girl, D'Angelo Wants To Know How You Feel." Guys, I know it sounds like I'm setting up an elaborate and hilarious joke, but I swear to all things that are fucking holy, I am not. To prove it, Exhibit A:

Didja feel that, ladies and gentlemen? That was 16 year old Violet's sexual awakening. And it got worse. Much, much worse.

Just the Three of Us.

Let's talk about threesomes.

Premature Maturity.

So lately, I've had a bit of an issue.

I don't want to call it premature anything, but I also don't want to color it as if it were anything different.

For the past few months, for whatever reason, I've fallen into this strange trap. The first part of this trap involves me masturbating infrequently. As a healthy younger dude (now being a healthy slightly older dude), it was not unusual for me to go for it once a day, whether or not I was also getting a bit of Violet that day (usually the case).

Flipping the Switch.

"Fuck my pussy like you own it."

It was one of the first times we fucked. I remember it like it was yesterday. In the bedroom of her shared apartment. Late spring. Morning. It was already too hot. Spoon-fucking on a double bed.

Violet+Rye Make Love Not Porn.

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Welcome Back.

So, there are times when these things happen.

You take a vacation.
You get really sick on said vacation.
You start a new job.
You move.
You lack internet for about a week.
You get internet back.

And here we are.

Want To Get Your Fucking Socks Knocked Off?

Well, we have to talk about something. It's going to be really hard for me to be objective about it, so you're just going to have to be fucking patient because I'm about to make a lot of declarative statements about a vibrator.  Mmmkay? Here we go.

You need to buy a fucking LELO Ina right fucking now. Do not fucking delay. Buy it for your girlfriend, or wife, or friend who needs to have eleventy orgasms. Buy it for yourself. Buy it for someone you don't even know yet so that when they meet you they'll know how thoughtful you are. Go buy one. Save your pennies if you have to -- I know it's an investment. But just go buy this thing.

Am I being clear enough?

Stand with Fred.

Oh, hey. Do you think it's weird and a waste of police officer time to arrest an old dude jerking off in a porn theater? Cool, us too.

You've probably heard about the Fred Willard arrest by now. We're big fans of his comedy and we think he got a shit deal the other day.

Let's be honest, it's not like most of us haven't jerked off in public before. We just didn't get caught. And if we did, we're not celebrities, so not everyone fucking knows about it.

Two.

Years, that is. Today marks it. We've been doing this motherfucking sex blog for two motherfucking years.

And now we're done.

New Things.

New things.

Jobs.
Apartments.
Schedules.
Projects.
Etc.

This is basically just an acknowledgement that we've been a bit inconsistent lately. And if not an apology, at least a "yeah, we know..." to all of our lovely readers and friends.

We'll be back, don't you worry.

My Name is Rye and I Have Body Issues.

Yes, that's right. An admission must be made:

I've got body issues.

I put naked photos of myself online, videos of us fucking, even a video of me jerking off. And yet...

Body. Issues.

Now, I don't want this to come off as a whiny, woe is me thing. Or some form of seeking approval or drawing a compliment. This isn't about that. I've been blessed with a pretty great metabolism and based on what you may have seen of me, you might think "fuck that dude, he's just being a whiny asshole, he's lucky, blah blah." And that might be the case to someone reading this. And that's okay. Sure, I do have a pretty great metabolism and am lucky and on and on. BUT, this is just my way of airing some shit that I've dealt with for quite some time. Regardless of whatever the perception of me might be, what's going on in my brain is something different. And something I think I might finally be defeating.

And with that out of the way, let's dive right into the deep:

A PSA on Nasty Toys.

Apologies in advance for getting a little serious on you today.

But you need it.
Your vagina needs it.
Your asshole needs it.
Your brain needs it.

As you know, we're huge fans of sex toys around these parts. What you might not know, however, is that we're also super crazy organic people that don't keep any harsh chemicals in the house. Our bodies are too important to us to allow that kind of shit in close proximity. And you can bet your ass that our bodies are also too important to be putting those same harsh chemicals IN our bodies. You know, through the pussy. Or asshole.

Yep, this may surprise some of you (hopefully it doesn't, because you're well aware of this by now), but a lot of sex toys contain really terrible shit. And that terrible shit goes right into your hoo-ha when you get yourself off with it.

For REAL.

Back in the Saddle.

I have been having pain during sex, which has led to my husband and I not being intimate very much. I avoid it for fear of pain, and he worries about hurting me. The problem is me sort of involuntarily clenching those muscles and being unable to relax. I can go from being quite relaxed to totally tense in the space of a couple seconds if sex is going to happen. He knows that this is not something I'm doing consciously, and not something that I want to do, but it is driving a bit of a wedge between us, physically. I see there are 'dilator kits' for vaginismus, which seems like a good idea, but kind of costly.

via Hottie, Hott, Hot - by Alexander Tikhomirov

I don't own any sex toys, but since my husband raised this as an issue earlier this month, I have mentioned several times that I am totally open to working on becoming comfortable with sex again. I do want to tackle this but feel a bit lost as a person who just doesn't talk about sex. Help!

Sometimes You Don't.

You guys know what we're all about. We're all about rubbing our bodies on one another. We're all about talking about it, sharing it and (we hope) helping others do the same. But also, we're all about honesty. And guys? Sometimes you feel like a fuck, sometimes you don't.

We've had a few conversations lately, with each other and with friends, about expectations. We think there is probably an expectation that we bang each other in every moment of spare time we have. Listen, we don't want to freak you out, people who have expectations, but we do have to feed and bathe ourselves occasionally.

An Interview with Sophie Delancey.

This week, we were lucky enough to participate in an interview with Sophie Delancey. If you don't know Sophie, you should. She's the PR and Marketing Coordinator for Camille Crimson and Mike Flirt's company, and she does a damn fine job at it. She blogs for Peeperz, WHACK! Magazine, Girlz Porn, and  she's also got a pretty damn sexy Tumblr. 

Met Another Frog, another site Sophie blogs for (I know, right? SO many blogs! We're seriously impressed) has asked her to do a series of interviews, entitled "Just a Little Sex," and we were chosen as the subject of her second piece.

You can read a few snippets below, but check out the full interview here.

Advice from the Mailbag.

Hey guys, your blog is fantastic. I have a question for you, and I think this is the correct medium to ask it...

My boyfriend is 24, I'm 18, and one of the biggest issues in our relationship is that he's just not that interested in sex. I am a VERY sexual person, i.e. the accounts of your day with Rye (or vice versa) are basically my ideal. I'm not unattractive, I love my body, but I feel as if this extremely important part of myself is ignored. If I try to initiate sex, 9.5 times out of ten I'm turned down. Either that, or he'll say no to me and then five minutes later 'relent' as if its some huge chore. He's told me that there's not much point to sex for him. I feel rejected and unfulfilled. When I've told him of how much it affects me, he tells me to either accept him as he is or leave.

He loves cuddling and less sexual forms of physical contact. But I NEED sexual connection.

What could contribute to his lack of interest? As far as I know, most guys would kill to have someone like me, at least in the sexual fulfillment department.

photography by Mark Maggior

We're so glad you like the blog. Thank you so much for reaching out. 

As to your question: yowsa. What a terrible position for an 18 year old to be in. The first and most important thing I'd like to say to you is that this is probably not because of something you are doing or not doing. In, fact, it probably has very little to do with you and a lot to do with your boyfriend, his past sexual experiences, and the emotional imprint they left on him. 

A Brief Missive on Ladyporn and How I Really Feel About Bubble Baths.

After telling our few friends about our blog, not only were they terribly kind and supportive, but it also shifted our relationship dynamic to a point where we're now able to have hours-long conversations about sex. What we like. What we don't. How we feel about porn. Open relationships and threesomes. And why not? After all, that's what we do here, (and they've seen a LOT of us through the blog), so what's to hide? And we've gotta tell you, it's brutally refreshing to be able to have these discourses with people we hang with multiple times each week.

Also, sometimes it leads to you asking if they ever feel like getting some of this on paper and guest posting. And they send you this a mere few hours later. And it's brilliant. And honest. And hot. And funny. And REAL. We hope you enjoy this as much as we did.

Oh, and if you're anything like us, you're gonna read this and say, "MORE PLEASE, NOW!" So let's all refer to her as Red when we do make that request.

A Brief Missive on Ladyporn and How I Really Feel About Bubble Baths.

by Red.

Guys! I want to talk to you about a terrible word. I am sorry that this might hurt, and not in a good way, but it's sort of been following me a lot lately and I wanted to talk about it because Violet and Rye said I could. I want to talk about what it means when we say "ladyporn." 

It has its purposes, certainly. We all know that Rachael Rabbit White claimed this word last year for a celebration of real porn for real women. Or do we? Until I googled the word five minutes ago, I didn't. What I did know was that last month a popular website had a "Twitter party" wherein they encouraged followers to tweet their idea of ladyporn, which included some pretty edgy shit like bubble baths, red wine, and pictures of Ryan Gosling. I know, too that the word came up in conversations about whether the term "chick lit" described a valid literary genre. I know that people I actually respect have used that hashtag in reference to things they regard as romantic or guilty pleasures. People I respect less have used it to talk about Twilight.

You know the problem, sort of, framed through Violet and Rye's own post "The Good Porn Problem." You know it in a slicker, entrepreneurial mindset through Cindy Gallop and Make Love Not Porn. But there is this, too, this slightly separate problem of porn and women: what the hell are we talking about when we talk about porn, and how do we contextualize it? Like you, I want there to be places to go online and in the world where there's a distinction between "good porn" and "bad porn"; I want that content to be as curated to my tastes as the music, art, and lifestyle blogs and publications I frequent. But I also want to know that when I say the word "porn", I'm not talking about a romantic comedy or a bubble bath, and it terrifies me to think that those are dialogues being created by women, who are unwittingly doing as much to create the gap between real sex and porn-as-we-know-it as the men who grow up thinking that sex is about coming on a woman's face.

They're Food People.

We're sex people.
We're music people.
We're comedy people.

But if someone we knew were to define us by our single biggest passion, they would say, without exception:

They're food people.