THE SEX ISSUE: Our favorite sleazy, easy, and just plain sexy people, places, and things in San Francisco
SEX ISSUE Forget those uptight pricks: sluts are awesome. There's no shame in harboring a voracious appetite for sexiness in all its myriad expressions. Combined with a well-developed ethical stance and safe practices, it's one of the joys of being human. In honor of the enormous, charitable Folsom Street leather and fetish fair (Sun/26, 11 a.m.–6 p.m., donations requested. www.folsomstreetfair.org ), we wanted to honor some of our favorite local sluts with the pervy attention they want and deserve.
You've always wanted to watch your neighbors bang, right? Well moan enthusiastically in honor of the Good Vibrations Indie Erotic Film Festival, which every year puts the call out for the cream of the amateur blue filmmaker crop, then assembles the spunkiest for your viewing pleasure at the Castro Theatre. You too can be in the audience, which will ooh and aah its approval to choose the sexiest, steamiest home-screw, the lucky winner receiving a $1,500 money shot. So how does SF get it on? This year's 12 finalists include preggo smut (Jeannie Roshar's "Bun in the Oven"), good old-fashioned wordplay like Benjamin Williams' "The Filth Element," and sci-fi sexin' ("Orgasm Raygun" by Martin Gooch). The fest precedes a range of specialty nights around town coordinated by Good Vibes, including Lebso Retro: A Dyke Porn Retrospective (Wed/22 at the Women's Building). It's gonna be a hot ticket, so grab a seat, relax your rear, and revel in the sight of sexy San Francisco.
Thurs/23 pre party: 7 p.m., $10; screening: 8 p.m., $10. Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF. (415) 621-6120, www.gv-ixff.org 
"I'm so honored to be named Sluttiest Queen," inimitable alternative drag goddess Suppositori Spelling tells us. "It's nice to see that my work hasn't gone unnoticed. I have so many performances that require nudity that when I drop my skirt lately it's often met with a wave of yawns from my audience. I think they're more shocked by the presence of panties nowadays." (Her audience, found at her raucous weekly drag show Cocktailgate — Sundays, 9 p.m., $5. Truck, 1900 Folsom St., SF. www.trucksf.com  — sheds a few panties themselves when she's on stage.) "I could tell you stories so dirty hot that this paper would burn like a Koran in Florida" she continues, "but I'm so shy and reserved. I will say this, though: as far as the queer sex scene in San Francisco goes, we seem to be in the flush of a renaissance. I keep stumbling upon things that even make me blush — like the gentleman who preferred a visible handjob on public transportation during rush hour as foreplay. But I encourage whatever floats your boat or creams your Twinkie. I just want to clarify, however, that "ouch" is not a safe word!"
Suppositori emcees the Seventh Street stage at Folsom Street Fair from 11 a.m.–2 p.m., followed by a special performance at 2:30 p.m., and then a "hanky code" themed Cocktailgate at its regular time.
Dan and JD, a.k.a. Two Knotty Boys, are no strangers to the twists and loops of BDSM performance. Native San Franciscans both, they not only create mesmerizing stage shows in which they bind nubile flesh to their will, but also produce end results so visionary that you'd be excused for leaving off the "fetish" and dubbing it merely "fashion." A ever-so-tightly cinched halter top of gleaming white cord, a barely there cobweb bikini that requires an expert hand to remove, overlays of skirts and dresses that hobble the wearer seductively and at the same time, show off the contours of the female body. It's neat, it's adjustable, it's sexily professional work. It's easy to see why the duo has filmed more than 100 video tutorials and taught countless workshops in the Bay and beyond for their eager fans: the Boys have tied up hundreds of women but, unlike some humiliation artists, they have never tied down their subjects' beauty and comfort.
Was it written on the rock hard abs of some San Franciscan sex god that all coital gatherings in this city have to be stark and stoic? Thankfully, the colorful gang over at Kinky Salon never got that memo. Creators Polly and Scott have created a swinger's playland party in the pink and purple rooms of Mission Control whose focus is flair: playful costume themes have focused on everything from kitty cats (the upcoming Pussyfest) to undersea adventure and fairy tale characters. You've never lived, it would seem, until your Snow White costume has been peeled off on the couch in the Harem Room by Tinkerbell and Captain Hook. More recently, the team has created a new magazine to celebrate the vast array of sexualities that their partygoers lay claim to: San Fran Sexy. The rag includes erotic history lessons from sexologist Dr. Carol Queen, memoir pieces from Bawdy Storytelling's Dixie De La Tour, photos from recent Kinky Salon soirees, and news of sensual events to come.
"If the Meat Sluts were a Pink Lady, we'd be Rizzo! We ain't no prudes like Sandy!" says BB Rumproast of rockin' band the Meat Sluts (www.myspace.com/themeatsluts ). In a world of vegan dogs, her XXX-chromosomed trash rock-punk explosion is an all-beef foot long. The four women are cookin' on stage — literally. In addition to the occasional back up steak dancing alongside their guitar licks and growls, the Meat Sluts have shared space at shows with a live hot dog-maker and a meat grinder flinging sausage and baloney onto hungry fans. It's messy, carnivorous fun — the perfect expression of the group's embrace of hedonistic appetite that could care less about what's considered "ladylike" at the table of the musical establishment. "We are loose and crazy and not ashamed of it! We love man meat! We love weenies! Beef baloney, Slim Jims, T-bones, bring it ON!" says Rumproast. To quote the Sluts' rager rally cry "Johnny Con Carne," that's what we call makin' bacon.
The Meat Sluts play Dodgyfest 3, Oct 2, 7 p.m., $10. Thee Parkside, 1600 17th St., SF. www.theeparkside.com 
Fleur De Lis SF has a bone to pick with the way hot and horny females are portrayed. "Women are just as sexual as men and they should own it," the blogger tells us. Need proof? Check out the blog she started this summer — just make sure your hands are free and you've got a little privacy while you do so. Her posts are missives from a professional woman's enthusiastic exploration of sensual subcultures in "one of the sexiest cities in the world." Though her identity is clad in secrecy, Fleur De Lis SF's escapades with Craig's List Casual Encounters, BDSM clubs, and randy run-ins at the grocery store will leave you slicker than a Slip 'N Slide in 90 percent humidity. Erotic inspiration notwithstanding, what we love about this new It slut is her candor and assertiveness. "Mainly, I want to educate people to embrace sex and sexuality," she says. "I want people to accept who they are, and who are we are sexually is a huge part of who we are as people."
For the past few years, hunky leatherman cruisers have been blessed with the return of a SoMa bar crawl, which, while hardly rivaling the infamous Miracle Mile of the 1970s and '80s, at least offers hide-lusting bar-hoppers an array of options. Truck, Hole in the Wall, Powerhouse, the Eagle, Lone Star — all make for a daisy chain of fellow cock-seekers. But the piece de resistance is surely Chaps II, which gives itself wholly over to man-action bliss. The original Chaps, owned by Chuck Slaton and Ron Morrison, was notorious for its Crisco-minded shenanigans, and Chaps II, opened in 2008 by David Morgan, continues the proudly perverse tradition, with parties devoted to rope play, piss play, fisting, and sports gear aficionados, as well as regular nights simply dedicated to the Holy Grail of slutty manhood: cheap ass. (For those unfamiliar — cheap ass tastes like chicken parmesan.) Kudos to you, Chaps II, for keeping the BDSM spirit alive — and serving a healthy round of Jäger shots to boot.
1225 Folsom, SF. (415) 255-2427, www.chapsbarsanfrancisco.com 
Drilldo, Intruder MK II, the Satisfyher, Scorpion, the Little Guy, Annihilator, the Octapussy — these are some of the friendly, dripping sex robots you'll meet at FuckingMachines.com , part of the Kink.com kingdom. The machines put a bevy of heaving beauties through the motions with their dildo-studded fingers and pulsating hacksaw thrusts. Designed by lucky site users, who submit their moving-parts fantasies, and the fiendishly clever sex-elves at the Fucking Machines workshop (with many of the machines fabricated on site at Kink's HQ in the Mission Armory), these fascinating thingamabobs range from devilishly dirty to actually kind of cute. There's even one modeled on Johnny 5 from Short Circuit, albeit renamed Fuckzilla and outfitted with a huge silicone phallus. The whole shebang is overseen by the enthusiastic Tomcat, who drives the point home that, yes, a chainsaw outfitted with 20 fake tongues "challenges the whole idea that women need someone to buy them dinner to get pleasure." Fucking machines themselves have been around since the 1960s, he notes, "but when we started in 2001, we wanted to capitalize on the tech wave, while approaching the machine construction like sculpture." Good thing the Fucking Machine bubble didn't burst.
Burlesque heroine Baroness Eva Von Slüt knows what she's got, and she's happy to show it to you. The inked, buxom platinum blonde dove into burlesque in 2002, but she's never been afraid of flaunting her dangerous curves onstage. "Whatever the thing is that women have that they hate their bodies, I just don't have it. I don't compare myself to other people because I know I look good." Von Slüt produces her own burlesque shows, plays party-jumping jams with partner DJ Mod Days, and heads up the vocals for no less than two sexy bands — Thee Merry Widows, an all-girl psychobilly explosion of fishnets, red lipstick, and leather dresses, at whose shows Von Slüt will bust out in pasties and sequined panties, and the White Barons, a stripped down, hard-edged punk outfit in which Von Slüt lets her rebel growl loose. So what gets this freight train whistling? Purrs the lady, "Self-confidence and kindness. Also, I am a bit of a cougar, so gentlemen 10 years younger. I'm not opposed to men my age or older, but gosh they're just so sweet when they're young!"
Catch Von Slüt's DJ session on Wednesday, Oct. 13 at Butter, 354 11th St., SF. www.myspace.com/missevavonslut 
There are a lot of gay musclemen at the Folsom Street Fair, and there are a lot of steamy, shirtless gay man-parties surrounding the event (causing quite a few Monday morning tragedies). But what about everyone else? "I was talking to my friends at Kink," says Folsom organizer Demetri Moshoyannis, "and they said that once the fair ended, all the leathermen had a place to go, but everyone at the Kink booth just had to go home. So this year we teamed up with them to change that." The result? A glorious-sounding omnisexual dance party called Deviants that's open to everyone. The acknowledgment that gay muscle men aren't the only ones who can get down and dirty into the wee hours is refreshing. But so is the musical lineup — the Juan Maclean, Zach Moore from Space Cowboys, Australia's Stereogamous — which offers something beyond the carnival circuit-music at many of the other parties. Musclemen are welcome, too, of course, as long as they're willing to shake their chains on the dance floor.
Sun/26, 6 p.m.–2 a.m., $30 advance. 525 Harrison, SF. www.folsomstreetfair.org/deviants 
It's not too many harems that offer you 40 different ways to satisfy your cravings. But hot, lip-smacking loving can be yours — in three different locations or for delivery, no less! — whenever that urge to do something naughty hits, whether you like it on your lunch hour or for a post-bar dirty stopover. Oh, Pizza Orgasmica, you sure do know what gets us going. The local chain has umpteen big, salacious pies with nookie-themed names for your perusing. And although the Ménage à Trois, with it's cuddle puddle of five salty cheeses, will leave you panting, and the Latin Lover's barbeque sauce, chicken, zucchini, onions, and cilantro make for a meaty, spicy affair, the sluttiest pie award has got to go to the Farmer's Daughter. She looks like a demure little milkmaid (after all, you can find her on the vegetarian menu) — but once her drizzles of creamy bianca cheese hit your tongue, and her fresh corn and broccoli fill your mouth ... it's a tumble in the hay you won't soon forget. Old MacDonald would be scandalized.
Various locations, www.pizzaorgasmica.com 
When it comes gender-bending sexual escapades, we landlubbing bipeds tend to give short shrift to our finned, feathered, and multi-legged Earthmates. That's why we're giving a hearty bottoms up to the California Academy of Science's Amphiprion ocellaris. The showy orange and white striped fish, whose common name is clownfish, is best known as the aquatic brat in Finding Nemo. But we don't care about Nemo's celebrity — or his billions. We salute him for his ability to shift from male to female when needed, giving her access to the entire spectrum of fishy sexuality. One of the planet's rare sequential hermaphrodites, all clownfish are born male (protandrous hermaphrodites) but become female when the female in a breeding pair dies. You may never look at a clownfish the same way again — and you should certainly go and look at them at the Cal Academy aquarium (www.calacademy.org ), where the San Franciscan clownfish ride tiny fixies, design websites, and sip Blue Bottle. Kidding! But maybe we should rethink always calling them "Nemo." How about Nema for a change? Or Nemo-ma. Or, oh goddess of LGBT fish love, Nemaphrodite.
It's lunchtime Friday and you need a juicy thigh in your mouth: Gold Club is there. And no, we're not talking about the lovely ladies popping, dropping, and locking it all over the SoMa strip club's pleasure poles. Carnal urges take on new meaning when it comes to the joint's $5 all you can eat Friday buffet, an omnivorous affair stuffed with roast beef, lasagna, fresh veggies, hummus, brownies, and their signature breasts (or as one Yelper so memorably dubbed them, "fried chicken tit-tays!") The spread attracts a diverse crowd of office workers and lap-dance connoisseurs of all genders, endowed with an appetite for crispy skin and jiggling glutei maximi alike. So pair your plate with a $4 happy hour cocktail — available until 7 p.m. — and don't forget to share your savings with the working women up front.
Gold Club's all you can eat buffet Fridays 11 a.m.– 2 p.m., $5. 650 Howard, SF. (415) 536-0300, www.goldclubsf.com 
Slutty profiles written by Marke B., Caitlin Donohue, Johnny Ray Huston, and Diane Sussman.