It's The Freakin' Weekend.

"Dear Violet,
These are some things I found. I thought you might enjoy watching them while I'm working this weekend. Enjoy yourself. 
Love, Rye"

That's the email I found in our inbox this morning when I woke up and lazily drank coffee in my pajamas while poor Rye went to work. He had thoughtfully spent his days off during the week gathering three videos for my weekend enjoyment, and enjoying them is just what I set out to do. His intention, I am certain, was to inspire a jerk-off session, along with a few photos sent to him while he was at work.

He'll probably still get that, but he's also inspired something a bit more... um... verbose.

Because.

Because it's snowing.
Because the light was great.
Because I was listening to Serge Gainsbourg.
Because.

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).

Rye at Home.

We often hear from you lovely readers with a repeated, urgent request: MORE RYE, NOW!

So when we're both at home and he's walking around the apartment, doing chores in boxer briefs that keep making their way below his ass, picking out records while basically giving me the full show, how am I NOT supposed to photograph that?

If You're Calling It Fingerbanging, Something Is WRONG.

Leave it to Vice. Sometimes we forget how spot-on their advice can be, how biting their wit can be and how utterly correct they are about certain repeated pitfalls of human sexuality -- i.e, "don't slap the bean."

Ladies, when getting taken care of via finger by your partners, we know there are certain things you're dying to cry out. But sometimes we don't. Shouting, "fucking stop doing that, it's terrible!" in the act doesn't appeal to anyone, especially considering how sensitive our collective sexual egos can be.

Because It Rains.

Sometimes you spend a rainy New York day inside your apartment.
You pull out your old computer.
The one you hardly use anymore.
And you relive history.

You click through photos.
Of you.
Of Violet.
Before you were together.
As you got together.
As you changed together.
Moved.

Passed through life together.
All of it seeming not so long ago, somehow.
Because it wasn't, really.
But wasn't it?

You find old photos you forgot existed.
Notice the time when you starting being Violet+Rye.
The photos changed.
But not really.
Still lots of food.
Lots of smiles.
Lots of nudity.
Lots of love.

And then some you kept off the blog, for whatever reason.
Can't seem to remember now.
And it seems like the perfect time to share.

Here's to history.
Here's to future.
Here's to you being here for all of it.

We're Having a Contest (Sort Of?)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Sharpen Your, Um, Pencils.

We don't spend a lot of time talking to you guys about design. We're busy showing you our tits mostly? And we know that's how you like it. But when we stumbled across Francesco Morackini's Dildo Maker concept, we knew we had to share it with you guys.

Necessary Information.

Ok, so remember the reader that submitted those lovely photos? The French press photos? The bending over the sink photos? The naked, eating a banana with a finger in her pussy photos?

OF COURSE YOU DO.

Yeah, THAT banana and THOSE fingers in THAT pussy.

So it turns out, after that post went up, the friend of hers that took those photos got in touch. And she's not the only subject he's been shooting. In fact, he's got an entire tumblr dedicated to some delicious photos of delicious women.

GO HERE NOW.

Yeah, you're going to want to follow along.

Suckers for Submissions.

Well then, this was a fucking delightful surprise!

About a week ago, we got home to find a super flattering and lovely email in our inbox. It was from a reader, someone around our own age, that wanted to let us know how much she enjoyed our blog, our open discussion of sexuality and our photos/videos. That alone would have been enough to make our day.

But that wasn't all that the email held...