Somewhere out there in a dingy clinic in Eastern Europe (also known as Crazy Clinic), a young lady is getting some unwelcome news:

For reasons best left unexamined, she’s been medically condemned. There’s nothing else for it, she needs a big shot of antibiotics, injected the old-fashioned way. It’s time for her to drop her trousers and climb up on the examining table, face down and bottom up:

Meanwhile, her medical professional prepares the injection:

Hold still now. This might sting a bit:

Another triumph of medical understatement. Yikes!

Pictures are from here and here.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Raoul's Long Workday
• Medical Fetish
• A Shot In The Butt
• Enema: Do Not Want!
• A Tussle And An Enema

A while back I got in trouble for assuming that a naked but gender-ambiguous snake charmer in an Orientalist painting was female. Words like “obviously wrong” got thrown around, and much scholarly analysis of pigment-gender was cited. Not only was I wrong, but I was (to judge by some of the ruder comments I deleted) an idiot for ever imagining that there might be room in the Orientalist pantheon for a female nude snake charmer.

Well, this one doesn’t look like a dude to me:

The artist is Paul Desire Trouillebert.

This is, I think, a detail from the handbill for some sort of European musical performance:

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Demonic Dimensions
• That Nasty Old Devil

Just another night chez Violet Blue. Invite a few friends over, then before you know it, there’s a porn shoot going on in your apartment:

On friday I got a couple of emails from Jiz Lee and Courtney Trouble saying that their planned location for a porn shoot had fallen through at the last minute, and could they use my living room? As if I’d say no. But to sweeten the deal, they told me I’d not only be able to hang out and take photos but that it was okay to blog the experience – plus, I told them, I had a few friends who were going to be hanging out with me that night, and they said that it was cool for my friends to be there too. Bonus!

…

It was all girl-girl, and I think four girls fucked each other in my bed.

I now have a love-hate relationship with my own bed. It is a very lucky bed. Remember the New Years’ incident? That damn bed gets way more action than I do, and I never seem to be in the room when it happens. Even my laptop was in a scene. The one I’m writing this post on.

As one of my non-porn friends night said that evening, “Everyone wants to be a piece of Violet’s furniture.”

And to think that six years ago (Six? really? Tempus fugit!) we were having fun with the idea of a RealDoll orgy at Violet’s place. I still think it’s a shame that never happened. But I’m struck, as I read those old blog posts, by how much has changed in six short/long years.

Even if the RealDoll orgy had gone down as contemplated, it would have had a strong 20th century flavor about it: mechanical participants, corporate sponsorship, marketing angle, careful planning, strong focus on ten grand worth of lovingly-fetishized products. This “got a few emails from some friends and before I knew it an excellent porn shoot broke out in my bedroom” is, both socially and economically, much more 21st century. It’s Bruce Sterling’s White Fungus, “architecture of participation” stuff. Who needs a studio when you’ve got a cell phone and a sufficient network of cool friends? Or, turning it to better place the emphasis where it may belong, how do you make a porn movie when what you’ve got is, not a studio or a thriving business model that can front you the studio lease, but a cell phone and a network of cool friends? Growing up soon after Depression 1.0, my mom called this “making do with what you’ve got.” If she’d had a cell phone, she would have been dangerous.

Lovely shot, but I don’t have any attribution for it except the marilyn-monroe.jpg filename:

If anybody knows what movie this is from (or is publicity in aid of) I’d be happy to have that info contributed in the comments.

Update: The sense of the house in the comments is that it’s not Marilyn but possibly might be Stella Stevens, Miss January 1960. See comments for details; no need to pile on with your additional “that’s not her” comments, though any firm link to the same photo with an attribution somewhere would be valued.

All I can say is: What a dish!

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Smarter Than The Teacher
• Lick It And Touch The Tip
• Chocolate And Strawberries
• "Stop muttering, Mr. Freud"
• Hungry? No? You Will Be...

You’ll enjoy Greta Christina’s account of her first orgy:

My very first orgy happened when I was in college. Surprise, surprise. I call it my first orgy, but in a sense it was my only orgy: I’ve been to a decent number of sex parties since, but this was my only “puppy pile of bodies co-mingling more or less indiscriminately” that we tend to think of as a classic, Capital O Orgy.

It happened more or less spontaneously. Or at least without any planning on my part. My boyfriend and I were hanging out on the steps of the student union, when these three girls came up to us, said they were putting together an orgy, and asked if we wanted to join them. … It only took a couple seconds for me and my boyfriend to arrive at an enthusiastic Yes.

They said they needed a couple/few more people, and asked if we could round anybody up. So I raced off to one of my best friends, and spent half an hour unsuccessfully trying to convince him that the obviously most sensible action would be for him to blow off studying for his big math test and come to the orgy instead. (I was arguing that in twenty years he’d never remember the math test, but would always regret having passed on an opportunity for an orgy. An argument I still stand by.) Alas, my rhetorical skills failed me; so I finally gave up on my friend, and headed back to the dorm room where the festivities were being held.

There is nothing quite like walking into a dorm room with six naked people having sex together in a pile on the floor. Especially when one of them is your boyfriend. I had a brief moment of – well, “shock” is too strong a word, let’s call it “sudden adjustment” or “category error” – as the reality of the situation was rather crudely borne in on me. Then I decided, “What the fuck, this is what I’m here for,” hurriedly shucked my clothes, and joined in.