elfs | The pornification of mainstream literature

The following are quotes from short stories that appeared in a popular and well-known magazine. Without googling for it, can you tell me which magazine?

He ran full throttle on all roads whether fence mending or money spending, and he wanted none of it when Jack seized his left hand and brought it to his erect cock. He jerked his hand away as though he'd touched fire, got to his knees, unbuckled his belt, shoved his pants down, hauled Jack onto all fours, and, with the help of the clear slick and a little spit, entered him, nothing he'd done before but no instruction manual needed.

Sasha was adjusting her yellow eyeshadow in the mirror when she noticed a bag on the floor beside the sink that must have belonged to the woman whose peeing she could faintly hear through the vault-like door of a toilet stall. Inside the rim of the bag, barely visible, was a wallet made of pale-green leather. It was easy for Sasha to recognize, looking back, that the peeing woman's blind trust had provoked her.

The answer is The New Yorker, that ancient and veritable collection of all things of interest to a certain segment of New York residents and, presumably, those who would emulate them.

What strikes me about these stories is the bluntness of them, the straightforward willingness to avoid euphemism. The sex scene (from Brokeback Mountain, obviously) and the bathroom scene (from Found Objects, by Jennifer Egan, still available on-line as of this writing) use the words they mean, the words the characters would use: "cock," "pee," and so forth. It makes me reassured to write my own stories, to work hard to get Matt and Jake's language just right, since they're the POV characters.