Thursday, 25 September 2008

Alea Jacta Est

The more I have thought about it, the more I have come to realise that I - along with practically everyone on Earth - am like a die. I am multi-faceted, having different sides, and sometimes it's random as to which one you'll get if you throw me, but at points you can select which of the six sides you'll get. I admit, if this weren't an anonymous blog it would be easier to try to descrbe or name these, but here goes.

Side one is "me". My full birth name that my parents gave me, often abbreviated to one syllable. I am the latest in a long line to bear this name; practically all of them were butchers, so I'm trying - as a vegetarian - to make it a more pacifist-like name. It's who I was born to be, and the side I have no choice over.

Side two is "the professional me". Here I'm known as Mister Something. It's the businesslike side of me, that I don't like - hating as I do authority and rules. It's the one I got at work and the one I may well get soon (currently, by the way, I have quit 'work' and am in training for a much more impressive job than my last one - the name in training is probably more similar to side one). I don't like my surname, so Mister Something rankles me. Alas, it's one of my sides.

Side three is "social me".
It characterises the face I wear for my family and friends. He's a reasonably pleasant, intelligent chap who has strong opinions but really doesn't want to hurt anybody. I've been that person for 23 years and therefore I know him quite well, but it really is only skin-deep.

Side four has the nickname that I've had for about ten years and accordingly some of my newer friends call me that. I also use it over the Internet.
I like to think of this side of me as a thinker, maybe a dreamer. Under a name which isn't anything like the one I was given, I feel more free. I can express myself better than before, and it gives me time to pause and think about all the different sides of the die. Of all the sides, I think this persona is the one that draws me together.

Side five is the expressionistic one, the one that's the lead singer of a rock band, an actor of stage and screen, player in brass bands and symphony orchestras, wordsmith and artist - all of which I've truthfully done in my spare time. This side is the one that comes out when I'm on stage, and during my moments of reflection while commuting, this side is planning rock gigs or practicing lines for his next play. The name given to this side, of course, is the marvellous corruption of the nickname which is side four which I use for my music and acting endeavours. You may even have seen me in something... you just don't know it yet.

This leaves the sixth side.

Which is, of course, the lover. It's my most intimate side, and it's been in gestation for many years. Love is my guiding emotion - I'm nowhere without my heart. Without my ability to love, the other five sides would mean nothing to me. This side I open up to those who are the closest to me, the ones who know I am sides 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and ILB - the sixth side. Two of my closest friends, and my lover, know I am ILB... and that is all.
What I like about writing this blog is that I have made more friends. I barely know any of you, and yet by sharing our sexual escapades on public fora, there's an amazing form of liberation here. Every time I write in ILB, I am opening up to you all - showing my hidden, sixth side; the sides that loves, and the side that I love. Love is often painful, and some may claim it is fleeting; here, however, it is celebrated. Here, the die is cast, and it always lands on side six... the side that shines with a light stronger than any other.

I point your attention to the name of side six, the one name in the list I chose: Innocent Loverboy. There really is no better description sometimes.

Tuesday, 23 September 2008

From the Gutter Theatrical

[ILB and TD are sitting in the stalls, having obtained some rather dodgy £20 tickets. ILB has gone for a little wander during the interval and returns to his seat, brandishing a programme.]

TD: You got a programme?
ILB: Yes.
[Reflects.]
ILB: [Aside.] I want to understand what's going on in this play, if possible.

[He opens the programme, and for a while, ILB and TD peruse it, not speaking. Much movement.]

TD: Arm?

[ILB raises his arm and places it around her back. He looks down at the programme, reflects.]

ILB: Would you like an ice cream?
TD: No, thank you. Do you want one?
ILB: Nope! I was asking you.

[TD's hand strays towards ILB's crotch. He bristles slightly, relaxes.]

ILB: [Aside.] Blimey! Here, in a theatre?

[TD's hand brushes between ILB's legs. He bristles slightly, tightens his arm around her, relaxes.]

TD: [Aside to ILB.] Does that feel nice?
ILB: [Aside to TD.] Oh yes. That... really does.

[ILB covers his crotch with the programme. We see TD's arm move. ILB bristles more violently, squirms, grins, relaxes.]

ILB: You...

[TD looks at the programme. ILB bristles, reflects, bristles again, relaxes.]

ILB: [Aside to TD.] You bad girl!
TD: Yes.

[ILB bristles, relaxes. Lights in the house go down.]

TD: Are you going to write about that?
ILB: Maybe...
TD: You're thinking of how to write about it, aren't you?

[ILB reflects, grins.]

[Curtain.]

Friday, 19 September 2008

Captain's Hard Log

Yarr! I be a busy cap'n of late, what with me wench inhabitin' me cabin right now, preferrin' gin over rum fer some reason... but also, I be capturin' food from the Orient by way of fellow pirates, an' they be schemin' fer me treasure to the tune o' £21.50, the scurvy dogs!

Those seaward bandits, the scabrous swabs, the steamin' souffl├ęs... I chanced upon a booty o'gold pieces in my piratical nest egg today, me 'earties, but I can't be affordin' ter spend it all, 'cause me wench deserves the finest o'cusines, arr!

Fer festive watchin's, I be recommendin' Pirates te ye lusty buccaneers. Lesbian wenches an' feared pirate hunters abound, yarr!

Wednesday, 17 September 2008

Innocent for a Reason

I didn't masturbate until after I'd had sex. Ever. As a result, I didn't actually have an orgasm until after I first had an orgasm during sex.

This isn't a shameful thing to say. I'm quite proud of that achievement.

I've been very sexually charged since the age of about 11 or 12. My first erections came from getting a feeling of power, which isn't something uncommon for a boy who doesn't know what an erection is. When I started secondary school, I started to think about sex while lying in bed, because I enjoyed being hard (the weirdest fantasies, by the way, such as being inside a machine which kept you alive while having sex with somebody, so you could be there for years), but I never even considered looking at anything even remotely explicit. The Spice Girls' Wannabe was the closest I got to an erotic video.

Anyway, as time wore on I started to watch the late-night programmes on cable such as Compromising Situations, Passion Cove and Love Street, and had a basically constant hardness throughout them. I also managed to watch all kinds of softcore films shown on channels such as Bravo and even L!VE TV before that tabloid channel shut down. That's probably what brought me my love of softcore... hours of sitting in front of my Gran's cable TV, permanently turned on watching simulated sex.

I turned to downloading at the age of about 15 or 16 using KaZaA, and because of my repeated watching of the films and programmes, I knew which scenes got me turned on (intense, passionate ones with pretty music tend to work best for me...). I watched them on my computer... I just didn't masturbate. All the claims on my LiveJournal that, at the age of 17, I'd never masturbated, were completely true. I'm an honest person... but the other sixth form boys didn't believe that.

Throughout the years, I tried to give up. I consistently thought that what I was doing was wrong. I tried to wean myself off watching the erotic TV, and during the downloading years I kept having massive guilt feelings and deleting my entire porn folder, thus spiritually cleansing myself of the Bad Deeds and listening to James instead.

So, six years of being able to get hard and stay hard without having any urge to do anything about it (I'd never even tried) came to a head when I finally had sex at the age of 17. Hell, I rarely came during sex either, being as I am someone who likes to give and concentrated on giving as much as possible, but in many ways having regular sex opened the sluice-gates for me, and (as I'm sure a lot of you will know...) once you've started experiencing sex you'll find it pretty difficult to stop.

I finally had an orgasm for the first time during sex, and after that I began to actually touch myself. I was nearing 18 now, and that's the age I actually started "doing the masturbation thing" when I got the urge (and when the files were actually on my computer - I was still downloading them, watching, wanking, then after a few days feeling guilty and purging them again). I tried to quit a few times, but that's pointless; it's like trying to quit chocolate. I wasn't addicted, it was just something I enjoyed. And after a while, I managed to orgasm through masturbation, so I had a nicely active sex life both at home and with the then-girlfriend.

When she left me for another guy I was at university and since then I used masturbation - to the same files I'd been downloading for years (but not deleting this time) - as my 'regular sexual outlet' (up to May of this year, of course, when a new and gorgeous lady came into my life and yes yes, I do love her... and yes, we do have sex, I am blessed). I've been consistently told that you can't do it too much, but I did it a lot during uni... exam stress, I swear... maybe I was catching up for lost time.

And so that's how I learned to touch myself.

You can't deny that's an unusual story. The boys in my school year all boasted about how they had their regular wanks; guilt-free, orgasm-focused and regular - and teased me because I (truthfully) said I didn't do it, to the point of saying I was a liar.
I do have to wonder, though, how many boys spent their teenage years getting erections over soft porn and not doing anything about it, then consistently trying to give up and starting again, and not masturbating until after having sex...

I assume the number is not that high. But then again, I'm called "Innocent" Loverboy for a very good reason sometimes...

Tuesday, 16 September 2008

Story Time

Once upon a time, there was a rabbit called Simon. He was a very intellectual rabbit, and to prove the point, he wore big round glasses and a blue jumper knitted out of wool. He was so intellectual, he knew how to spell "osteoporosis" and even "floccinaucinihilipilification". He even once went up to his brother, Alvin, and said, "Greetings, Alvin. I am now hippopotomonstrosesquipedalianistic." Alvin hit him.
Simon didn't have any friends, so he was a very sad rabbit. He had one sort-of friend, called Theodore. Theodore liked Simon, but sometimes Simon thought that Theodore was just using him for his brains. Theodore was not very clever; he couldn't even spell "antidisestablishmentarianism". Simon (who was a very intellectual rabbit) had worked this out, but he had Theodore's company, so he didn't complain.

One day, Simon was sitting in school, when the teacher came into the class and said, "We're going outside to play rugby."
"I like rugby," said Theodore.
Everyone got up to play rugby, but the teacher said to Simon, "No, Simon, you are not allowed to play rugby with us, because you are a very intellectual rabbit and therefore no good at sports. You are to stay here," and he closed the door, locking it from the outside, trapping Simon inside the classroom.
Simon ran to the window. He tried to open it, but it was painted shut. Simon, being a very intellectual rabbit, tried to use a chemistry set to synthesise a compound which would dissolve paint, but failed, because there weren't any chemistry sets. Poor Simon was trapped, and he couldn't think of a way to get out.
"Come on, Simon," he said to himself (Simon enjoyed talking to himself a lot, because he desired intelligent conversation). "You are a
very intellectual rabbit, why don't you think of something?" He looked around and saw a radiator and a chair, and had an idea. Walking over to the radiator, he hit his arm against it again and again until he was sore. Then he took the saw and began sawing the chair in half. Two halves make a whole, so he put the hole against the wall, and he went through it and was free!

But Simon's problems weren't over. His teacher and class could see that he had escaped, and the teacher (who, as you may have noticed by now, was evil) raised a hue and cry, and they all chased after Simon. Simon was terrified, and ran as fast as he could, but the teacher, at the front of the pack, was too quick for him. He was just about to reach and grab Simon, but at that moment, Theodore bravely jumped from the middle of the pack and kicked the teacher in the back! This gave Simon some extra time to run, but he knew that they would catch him soon.
He was just wondering what to do when a mysterious vehicle came past.
"Jump in, Simon!" said a voice, and without hesitation, Simon jumped into the vehicle, just as his teacher was getting to his feet. The vehicle sped away into the distance, and Simon was safe. The shock and exhaustion took its toll on poor Simon, though, and he fainted.

When Simon came to, he found himself in a small, bright room full of books. He was surrounded by books, and being a
very intellectual rabbit, he loved books!
"You are awake, Simon?" said the voice, and Simon looked around and saw a tall, friendly-looking man in a smart suit sitting behind a desk. "I knew I had to rescue you. Welcome to my mobile library."
"This is a mobile library?" said Simon.
"Yes," said the man. "I drive my books all around the world. Look out of the window, and see where we are now."
Simon looked out of the window and saw a busy city, full of all different kinds of people.
"It's beautiful," he said. "Where are we?"
"We are in London, said the man in a reassuring voice. "There are many places like this in the world, but no city is the same. London is unique, but so are Helsinki, Tokyo and so many other cities."
"I'd like to travel," said Simon. "I am a
very intellectual rabbit, and I'd love to feed my brain by going travelling."
"Why don't you be my assistant?" said the man. "I am getting old, and my library is too big for me to run all by myself. I need someone to help me, so why don't you stay here? I could do with some company."

Simon agreed, and became the man's assistant. The man (who was very kindly, and was called Dave, by the way) even made Simon a little business suit which made him look very snappy indeed. Simon and Dave travelled all around the world, lending their books to all sorts of people. After all that had happened, Simon was very pleased to have found something helpful to do, which stimulated his mind, because Simon, if I haven't said so before, was a
very intellectual rabbit.

Thursday, 11 September 2008

Coffee, Cake and Love

We didn't all die yesterday, which is quite a good thing, because we had a pretty awesome day and to have everyone sucked into an inescapable vortex would have probably put a dampener on things. Besides, Secret Diary is back tonight, and if we didn't get to see it, Belle would most likely be pissed off.

We made our way into London to see The House of Victor & Rolf, which was a collection of dolls in different variants of fashion by the aforementioned twosome. That's probably a terrible way of describing it, but it was both disturbing and amazing. Not in a bad way or anything. The dresses were very pretty. The dolls were all Autons, I'm pretty sure of it.

Anyway - afterwards, we decided to stay in London for a bit, and so made our way back to a safe place... the flirtatious Coffee, Cake and Kink - and it was still open! (Though for how long, no man can say.) We had oh-my-God-this-is-gorgeous coffee and if-the-LHC-does-create-a-black-hole-I-can-die-happy cake, while sneaking a look at the selections of kinky pictures those guys have got, so in many ways we probably did all three. As we wanted to get to another exhibition, we had to leave pretty sharpish, though.
It's odd, every time I go to CCK, to think that it's closing down, because it certainly gets a lot of business (it was packed when we were there), but it's not really a lack-of-revenue problem; it's an evil landlord. CCK seems like the kind of place a lot of people to go just hang out and chatter - the staff encourage that sort of stuff, too - so here's hoping for another venue that's just as easy to get to!
Plus, they're going to start selling cake over their webshop. Christmas has come early. Except for the fact that you may have to part with money...

The exhibition we went to see afterwards was Love at the National Gallery. Now, this was interesting.
As you can imagine from the National Gallery, it was all rather highbrow - but I can deal with that, I spent three years doing an English degree - a selection of paintings and other pieces of art (all right, paintings and two statues) all depicting different types of love! Brilliant! Lots of artfully naked people in different poses, evoking sexual love, romantic love, motherly love and even religious love - I'm into my Christian symbolism, but I'd forgotten most of the Greco-Roman myths and how varied their depictions are (which, considering how my nickname used to be Eros, is shameful). Interesting, too, to see how the neo-classical artists were still inspired by ther style. Marvellous stuff.
The video (no, not that sort of video) was really interesting too... but what caught me most was the final piece vaguely connected to the display...

Secret Piece III is the brainchild of Yoko Ono, so you know it's going to be weird, but that's probably what makes it so interesting. Blank canvases are placed on the walls of the room, and in one corner is a table with a pen and some differently-coloured Post-It notes. The instructions are simple: write a message to, or about, the one you love, and put it on a canvas somewhere. When the canvasses are full... well... they get sent back to Yoko, I guess. As the one I love was there, it was pretty easy. In fact, I posted three notes, one on each of the canvasses available - but my favourite simply read:


innocent loverboy

the drinker

...and I left it at that.

We filled up with Mexican food, went home, watched Tea with Mussolini and made love. Good day, overall. And, despite the complexities of a varied day trip into Central London, the message it carried was made perfectly clear.

What's the message?

See above.

Sunday, 7 September 2008

Young and Innocent

"What's that?" demanded my niece, who - having exhausted all the stuff in my toybox - was rampaging around my room looking for other things to play with. (This, in itself, was unadvisable, as my room currently looks like a bomb site, being as it is currently under a transformation of sorts, to make it look as if there's more space than there actually is. I was pleased, anyway, that she hadn't chanced upon my soft porn, hentai comic and condoms.)
"I'm sorry?" I politely inquired.
"What's that toy up there?" she repeated, pointing one pudgy little finger to the top of my cupboard. There, just underneath a sleeping bag on top of an AD&D box, provocatively hung my soft, green Robin Hood sash. In a flash, I remembered putting it there, it looking exactly as it always has, and more importantly, the events of the night which preceded it.
"Oh, that's not a toy," I said to the three-year-old.
She turned away, clearly bored with my lack of explanation, and toddled off.
"At least," I said to myself, "it's not always a toy."
I followed her back downstairs, smirking as I went.

Thursday, 4 September 2008

Exploration

As much as I am an advocate of soft porn and leaving much to the imagination, in real life (that is to say, of course, when the sex involves me) I am totally fascinated by the inner workings of that most special of places - vagina, pussy, special area, lady garden - whatever you want to call it. You could call it "Kevin" and I'd still be interested.
Even the tightest of pussies are fascinating. You can read all sorts of sex blogs and not actually get any sorts of explanations as to which bit does what - although you can read Anne Frank's The Diary Of A Young Girl and get more of an insight, let's be honest.

I think the problem might be with being explicit, to the point of feeling slightly physically sick. But there's nothing wrong with the vagina, so what's the objection to discussing it? Oh, we British.

May as well list the bits of the vagina I'm interested in finding out more about...
* The clitoris. Nestled in between the labia minor, this is pretty elusive unless you're specifically looking for it. But if you do find it, it seems the lightest touch sparks something off. Does it do anything biological? (And when you consider the intensity of a clitoral orgasm, does that matter?)
* The labia minor. Two lips - the gates to the fortress, as it were. I love running my tongue (or a finger, or even the tip of my penis) along those things.
* The walls inside. This is something of the great unknown, as you can't actually see them - you can feel them mould around your hard cock, but you'll get people during cybersex claiming to use their tongue to explore the pussy walls which, quite frankly, is physically impossible. You can probably just about penetrate a girl with your tongue, but the inside tunnel is really long, and you'll really need your finger, at least, to do something with it.
* The g-spot. While having sex, lever yourself upwards by pushing down onto the bed with your hands. Then thrust. Okay, maybe that doesn't work for everyone. But I've found it useful (ahem...), and it's led me to wonder what's so special about that certain spot inside a lady that makes her more and more aroused during sex. Intriguing...
* Where does the urine come from? Isn't there a third hole somewhere?
* The cervix - it's up there somewhere... what happens if you reach that?
* All the bits in between - I mean, it all matters, right?

It just intrigues me. Compared to our penis, which is basically a mass of erectile tissue with a clitoris on the end, a hole in it and a foreskin on top, the vagina's a very complicated, intricate piece of kit, which really does merit more than a little exploration. And, you know, some hot sex afterwards.

And I love girlcum, too. But that's for another entry...