Coming on Camera: Beautiful Agony’s Orgasmic Non-Nude Porn
Hundreds of people around the world have seen Kamee* come. They’ve watched her lie down on her stomach and stare straight into the camera as she rubs her clit, her red lips forming the shape of a rapturous O. They’ve heard her quietly pant and moan as she climaxes, with her big brown eyes clenched tight. Every so often her eyes flicker up to the camera and smirk, and for a brief moment it’s easy to forget who’s actually watching whom.
“It’s not like I just want people to watch me come or anything like that,” Kamee told me. “I did it because I wanted to support a project that is a safe space for people who wouldn’t video-tape themselves doing something like this.”
That project is Beautiful Agony—also called “Facettes de La Petite Mort.” It’s an Australia-based erotic website that posts daily videos of people masturbating until they orgasm. The twist is that the videos are only filmed from the shoulders up, so all you see is a succession of O-faces. The videos are basically webcam versions of Andy Warhol’s experimental “Blow Job” short film. Anyone from a DDD-cup porn star to your 95-year-old granddad can submit a video of themselves getting their rocks off. The videos range from one-man shows to group circle jerks, but you never see what’s going on down below. The name “Beautiful Agony” speaks to the almost painful tension you feel right before you come, followed by a zen-like state. The beauty lies in watching people of all walks of life momentarily lose control in the best way.
The Cold War of Porn
This could be the last summer. Bees are dying, ice caps are melting, there’s a Dunkin Donuts in Williamsburg. Oh, and the US and Russia might start the second Cold War. Time for the global village to band together and pump the brakes? Not likely, considering we’re busy pumping our private parts at home.
In the face of inscrutable military-industrial agendas, porn offers some kind of logic. I’ll never understand troop movements in Crimea, but I definitely know what to do with my boner once I get online. According to a series of charts compiled by the eggheads (dickheads?) at Pornhub Insights, the smut peddlers’ data analysis department, Russians are (mostly) just like us. Cultural geography produces intriguing local fetishes, but at the end of the day, we’re all repressed perverts beating our meat like dogs in heat.
These charts will either prove we’re better at busting nuts than Putin’s cronies or help us set aside our differences and agree that Russia is too jam-packed with boobs, butts, and cock-hungry MILFs to reduce it to rubble. Let’s find out!
Graphs courtesy of Pornhub
Putin spent the last decade ramping up jingoism and openly icing opposition leaders while framing himself as a whale-hunting neo-Czar, a sculpted alternative to the West’s flabby Merkels and Cheneys—and it worked. His Crimean war games united the country against the finger-wagging West. As always, the political is personal, and Soviet pride extends below the belt. Who needs American resources when you have Russian mom anal? It’s masturbation as empire-building. Mother Russia, indeed.
America is less monolithic—the melting pot is full of cum. Our search terms read like an ethnography of a Disney show, with multiple races, four jobs, and wacky family dynamics. God bless the free market. In America you have the right—no, the responsibility—to imagine yourself landing a massive creampie in your 18-year-old step-sister’s anus while a hentai yoga teacher massages her squirting babysitter. In public.
Watch VICE Profiles: Slut-Shaming Preacher
In August of last year, campus preacher Brother Dean Saxton caused outrage after preaching at the University of Arizona and holding a sign that read, “YOU DESERVE RAPE.”
This is typical behavior for Dean, who believes, among other things, that women shouldn’t be allowed to attend university, that feminism is evil, and that immodestly dressed women are asking to be raped.
VICE went to Arizona to meet up with Dean as he was preparing to protest the screening of a documentary about a rape survivor.
VICE Profiles is a weekly window into our eccentric and idiosyncratic world. Check back for new episodes every Monday.
Owning Porno Used to Mean Something, Damnit
1. When I was in high school I kept my porn in a white box. Inside the box was a stack of magazines—almost entirely Playboys, because I liked the clean stuff—as well as a purple folder full of the images I liked best, so that I could spread them out on my bedroom floor and sit in the middle of them, kind of like a crude manual version of Tumblr.
2. The internet really changed the way people masturbate. Today, if you want to see someone naked you just press the buttons and poof, there’s a boob. But as a teenager I remember thinking of pictures of naked women as a kind of secret relic, something you had to search out, anticipate and covet, which made them that much better when you got them.
3. I saw my first porn magazine in fourth grade when some kids in my class were passing one around under the lunch table. I remember feeling a weird sense of doom, like I was going to get caught the second I touched the paper, even though everyone else was laughing about it. I’m not sure what magazine it was, but the pictures were of naked women holding automatic weapons, dressed up like military personnel. I remember the feeling of seeing more than I actually saw.
4. The kid who owned that magazine briefly ran a business where you could buy a page out of other, similar magazines for a dollar. He carried them around in a duffel bag with a padlock on it. They were his dad’s magazines, he said, and there were more where those came from, if you had the money. I never bought one. Eventually he was caught and suspended.
5. I used to occasionally go to work with my dad. I remember feeling an insane sense of agency whenever he would stop at this one gas station that had a rack of tattoo magazines with tits in them. I would stand in front of the rack and wait until I knew I had half a second with no one watching, and then I would open the magazine as if I didn’t mean to, in case someone caught me. So instead of full visions, I caught flashes and tried to embed them deep in my memory so that I would be able to see them for a long time afterward whenever I shut my eyes.
6. A very brief, insanely vivid memory from when I was probably four or five, of picking up a magazine my dad’s friends were passing around at a camp in the woods, and the men laughing as my dad took it away from me before I could see. I remember my uncle saying something to the effect of, “one day you can have that,” and everyone laughing. I don’t remember many other things from that early stage in my life.
Examining the Pull of Group Masturbation Parties
Of the various group masturbation parties 30-year-old nudist Kyle Rudd has attended over the years, the biggest one drew a dozen-odd men, predominantly over 50. He was the third to arrive that night, and when he walked inside, the host and another guy were already naked. As the remainder of the guests sauntered in, conversation centered on things like work, how the week had been, and the bodies and penises on display. Rudd did most of his masturbating—a blend of group and solo—from the vantage point of the organizer’s couch and managed to ejaculate on himself three or four times in six hours. In the breaks between these bouts of industry, Rudd, a Melbourne-based arts-sector employee, spent his time socializing, drinking beer, and eating pizza.
While some men might prefer to spend their weekends watching the game or relaxing with the family, Rudd says he had a great time.
“I find genitals to be very erotic—ten out of ten,” he says. “For me, I think being exposed and on display is very erotic. It’s knowing that others are admiring your genitals as they mutually get off on it.”
For anybody entertaining the idea of attending a group masturbation party, the grassroots DIY scene is a fertile field of opportunity, according to Rudd.
In his own words, Shubin was a “mad scientist” in his pursuit of the ultimate synthetic fuck buddy, “Because – as a man, you know this: if something doesn’t feel real, we’re not going to be excited about the physical contact with it. So that was a first priority.”
—Meet the Man Behind Fleshlight, the World’s Most Famous Fake Vagina
Meet the Man Behind the World’s Most Famous Fake Vagina
Steve Shubin wants us to talk more about touching ourselves. The inventor of the world’s most successful sex toy, the Fleshlight, a polymer vagina housed inside something that looks a bit like a fat torch, said that it’s a man’s duty to masturbate frequently. As such, he’s baffled as to why dildos have become an acceptable brunch conversation topic while male sex toys remain taboo.
But Steve hasn’t always been so concerned with the ins and outs of sensual self-flagellation. One of jerking-off’s wealthiest advocates was raised in a blue-collar house with 13 siblings. Football took him to college, which he followed with a brief stint in the Army before seven years with the Los Angeles SWAT team.
"Police work’s a great career, but it doesn’t pay much; you can’t look forward to buying anything significant, and I’ve always wanted to do that," he told me. "I’m one of 14 kids and I grew up having nothing. I was obsessed with having everything." So, aged 32, Steve left the force to open his own small business.
It wasn’t until he was in his 40s that his tennis-pro wife’s pregnancy pushed him toward the industry he now dominates.
"The doctor said that, because we were 40 years old, we had to be very careful and should probably not have intercourse for the duration of the pregnancy," he explained. "And we were at the beginning of the pregnancy. So, for me, that was a problem. Tell me I can’t get laid for nine months; that’s a problem for me."
While out to dinner to celebrate the pregnancy, Steve turned to his wife Kathy and asked, “Tell me, would you think I was a total pervert if I told you that, in your sexual absence, I would use something to replace you sexually? Would you think I’d be a total creep?”
Should the FDA Regulate Sex Toys?
It’s the most wonderful time of year—the time when we jam a bunch of random crap in an oversized sock in hopes that the person we love will sleep with us. Family members aside, nothing quite says I care like sex toys, right? Whether it’s a vibrator for your eternally single roommate or a cock ring for the dude you pork on the reg, sex toys stuff stockings (and other things) in all the right ways.
Except when they’re toxic. Nobody wants anaphylactic shock for Christmas, but the Consumer Products Safety Commission (CPSC) estimates an average of 2,100 sex toy-related emergency room visits a year. Getting off just became pretty high stakes.
On the whole, sex toys hang out in regulatory limbo. The FDA only pays attention to them if they fall under the category of medical devices, which means the tiny handful of vibrators that are presented as therapeutic massagers. It’s the manufacturer’s decision to classify their toys as therapeutic or not, so the majority of vibrators—not to mention all other sex toys—elude the FDA’s gaze.