Friday, 30 April 2010


So, you're all up to speed with the fact that my dreams are strange, yes? Well, gather around, children, for I am about to tell you something genuinely chilling. I am going to relate to you the fact that I had a nightmare.

This wasn't just any nightmare. It was a nightmare beyond the boundaries of fear. One that shook me to the
bone and made my pulse race so fast that my lungs tore open with gasps of desperate breath and my brain threatened to burst free from my head.

Brace yourself.

I dreamed that I was unable to have sex.

This was so horrific a realisation, and so difficult an admission, that I had to force myself into reporting this horrible fact via the medium of blogging.

And yet I was so upset that as I wrote the blog post, tears rolled down my cheeks, and I was explaining things using that most shocking of typography... ALL CAPITAL LETTERS.

But it's okay, really. Because I woke up the following morning and after about an hour of being awake I was having sex, so... no problems there then.

But still... The horror! The HORROR!

Thursday, 29 April 2010

Yet another silly bot.

It seems this one actually managed to hack the account of one of my friends on MSN. That's why I was confused... for a while...

Robert says:
hey there...

ILB says:

Robert says:
hey cutie, how are you

ILB says:
Robert? You've turned into a bot.

Robert says:
a what?

ILB says:
A bot, surely?

Robert says:
no im not, if you dont wanna talk to me then i can leave

ILB says:
Well, clearly you're a human, but I don't think you are Robert.

Robert says:
Yay someone to talk to !! how are u? I found your name in the msn online members search

ILB says:
You can't have done, because I already have you on my contact list.

Robert says:
my roomates just stepped out I only have a little while alone... are u alone too? we should cam2cam

ILB says:
Are you a girl?

Robert says:
K here's the link to my cam it's go there and you should see me, just click the join free tab on top of the page, I use this site cause you can't record it like on here -- my dad would kill me if he found out I was doing this stuff on his computer lol

ILB says:

Robert says:
LOL aw you're cute.. well can u see my cam it was giving me trouble earlier but it looks ok now? oh I hope u dont mind chatting with a freaky girl lol!

ILB says:
How can you be a girl? You're using Robert's e-mail address.

Robert says:
yeah i'm horny lolz! u? Wait you're not a stalker are u?? LOL

ILB says:
Yes, I'm a dangerous rapist.

Robert says:
Mhhm u never know lol I have to make sure! . maybe we can trade phone numbers after we chat on cam ? I'd love to...

ILB says:
No, thank you. I doubt you even know how to use a phone.

Robert says:
yeah, i have a hot or not account

ILB says:
Who doesn't?

Robert says:
....nice well u can also just watch me if u's up to u oh babe what's your favorite color?

ILB says:
I prefer things in greyscale.

Robert says:
make sure u fill out your correct b-day k? cause they won't let u in if you can't verify age I had to use my debit card to verify age but they don't charge, it's just to make sure you're not a kid

ILB says:
Of course.

Robert says:
I'm gonna turn off Messenger so my cam doesn't run I really want u to watch me, I'm getting so turned on it's driving me crazy

ILB says:
Go ahead, botgirl.

Robert says:
no im not, if you dont wanna talk to me then i can leave

ILB says:
Interesting, when I say bot you respond with that.

Robert says:
a what?

ILB says:
Or that.
Rob-bot. :D

Robert says:
are u in babe?? Let me know when you see me, I'll be in my cam chat, we'll keep talking in there I just put on those panties for u ! hurry up ! if u need the link again it's , I'm in my private chat so if u see another cam just login and let me know when you're in, I'll guide you to my cam room

ILB says:
Go away.

Robert says:
no problem! PEACE!!

Tuesday, 27 April 2010


My dream last night involved seducing someone in a lift. Despite seeing about 42093487 films which involve this scenario, it's never happened in real life (in fact, I don't think it could happen; it's too improbable... feel free to prove me wrong, however). The person I was seducing (that's right, I was the seducer... another improbable situation) wasn't my girlfriend, however. I don't even know who she was. She was beautiful, black, and compliant. Not that we had sex - to my immense relief now that I'm awake. She gave me her number, though, and sent me on my merry way.

The rest of the dream was just as bizarre; I kept thinking of texting her to ask her on a date - TD called me yesterday to ask me on a date, possibly the roots of this, but probably not - but never actually got around to fishing my 'phone out of my pocket and actually doing the damn thing. Being a dream, it doesn't seem too weird when you think about it - random kiss in a lift, number obtained, never text... but then again, being me, you'd have thought I'd have the common courtesy to send a text? Well, clearly not dream-me.

Scary thing is, I saw this girl on the train this morning.

[Post #404. If you can't find this post, that explains it.]

Friday, 23 April 2010


Sitting in the pub last night (next week is psychic night, so they know we're going to come back), one of our number rustled up a couple of girls. He pulled them seemingly out of nowhere - he can do this, I've seen it before. Allegedly they know him from school or something. What was amazing about these girls is that it's not that warm and they were already decked out for summer. That is to say, one of them appeared to be mostly leg, while the other one had breasts which reached out to Wednesday. Not interesting so much as confusing.

So what did we do in the presence of these new addition to our group? That's right, Jenga. Bringing back memories of truth-or-dare Jenga (leading to kisses, not for me, although) and giant Jenga (leading to injuries, but that's the point, right?). Only this wasn't called "Jenga", it was a fake version, called "Tumble Down Tower." I thought that was extremely cute, myself. I don't think anyone else thought so. After one game of this and a hasty reassembling of the tower, one of the girls suggested we should play it again using only one finger. I was doing quite well, if I do say so myself.

And then Robinson suggested we should play it without using our hands at all.
"That's easy," I automatically said. "I'm skilled with my tongue."

I didn't recover well after that.

Wednesday, 21 April 2010


I feel like pampering someone tonight. Not just treating someone, pampering them. Someone female, obviously.

I'd like to make her feel spoiled. I'd use caresses, kisses, strokes, cuddles and licks. I'd sit on a stool in the bathroom, watching her soak in a bath full of steaming water and too many bubbles. While reading her a story. And feeding her Belgian chocolates. Naked. While Laura Marling, or someone else with pretty music plays softly in the background.

I'd dry her out myself, and she'd dry her own hair because I'm rubbish at that. But then I'd stroke it for her. I'd stroke her hands, her arms, her legs... I'd lead her to my bed and put her down, giving her my dressing gown because it's soft. Possibly turn the lights off. Heating maybe on, maybe off (hey, the weather's changeable at the moment). I'd curl my body around her and hold her, whispering into her ear.

I'd lick her, slowly. Every so slowly. I'd lick her until she orgasms, intensely. I'd add something, maybe some of that special gel Durex does that makes you orgasm. I'd wash my face, and get her a drink afterwards. Hot chocolate with whipped cream on top or something. Fetch her a wet wipe and clean between her legs, if she needs it. Then I'd hold her hand, or lean her on my chest, and feel her aftershocks.

And I'd stroke her until she falls asleep. And then I'd watch her sleep.

Yes, I am feeling incredibly affectionate this evening. And even though there isn't anyone here to lavish these affections on, the idea of pampering someone to the best of my abilities seems like a very good ambition to be having right now.

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Review: Durex Sweet Strawberry Lube

Okay. Let's get this out of the way as soon as the subject becomes apparent: I don't need to use a lube. We're both in our twenties and rather sexually able, if I do say so myself. The use of this lube was for pleasure. So please bear that in mind while you read this review...

We tried the Durex Sweet Strawberry Lube in stages, during foreplay and full sex, and so here's a systematic analysis, and by 'systematic' I actually mean 'in vague stages I've picked from my page of notes according to very vague memory'.

Okay, well, the bottle says strawberry. It's got a picture of some strawberries on it. Fair enough. And from the moment you open the bottle, it's very apparent that this is going to be strawberry. The scent is certainly strawberry-esque, to the tune of the fact that "very (straw)berry" would be a much better name. Yes, it's overpowering. In fact, it's everywhere, and that's from the first squirt. Okay, well, they got that part right.
I also tasted some of it. It states very clearly on the side of the bottle that it's edible but it's not a food, and that you should keep it out of the reach of children. But then again, if it's in the reach of children, then what are you doing even owning this, eh? I'd think that if you're smart enough to buy something labelled "Durex" then you'd at least keep it well hidden if kids are likely to be around, right?
Anyway, taste. Well, ironically, it tastes a bit like Calpol - and I'm not talking of the really nice Calpol for under-5s that tastes vaguely of something-but-I'm-not-sure-what, but is delicious. I'm talking of the Calpol for older kids which also advertises that it's strawberry flavoured. Complete with bitter aftertaste. Yes, it's strawberry. But it's strong, too strong, and masks all other tastes that come during sex. Or all other tastes too. I took a sip of orange squash and even that tasted like strawberry medicine. At which point we moved on to...

TD's never given a blowjob to a penis that's covered in lube before. To be honest, that doesn't exactly surprise me. She's a great believer in getting the whole package when seeing to, er, my package - and that includes my own musk, impossible as that sounds to me (I've never found myself that intoxicating in any case). The strawberry is nice, she says, but it's all wrong, as she'd rather taste me than some synthetic fruit. I sort of see her point of view here, as I like her taste.
It's also incredibly slippery, this lube. Practically water at some points. So it'd be great if you like that kind of handjob. But my penis, unlike the rest of me, isn't really that sensitive, so I like a bit of friction for maximum pleasure. Here, it wasn't even an option. I got strawberry scent and a wet feeling, and that's about all. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice rub and a great blowjob - they always are - but it just seemed a little wrong.

Which is why I feel guilty about this one, because I barely got started before I had to stop. The taste was far too strong, and I'd only added a tiny bit of the lube before I took my first experimental lick. I had to back off and shuddered a bit before recovering and trying again. I could taste strawberry which I couldn't get rid of, but I couldn't taste girl. It was too much. And worse, it didn't feel like a vagina any more - not even a wet one. Again, it was too runny. I had to stop. Boy, did I feel guilty.

In case I haven't mentioned this one before, it's slippery. With sex, it does allow for an easy and fluid motion, which is nice, I suppose. It's just that I still fail to see the point of a lot of extra lube if the lady that you're entering is already pretty wet. There's also a lack of feeling here, unlike with the sensation lubes that Durex do, such as Feel or Tingle. At points it was like I was having sex with my girlfriend, but if I closed my eyes I doubt I'd have noticed the difference between her and a bucket of warm water with strawberry flavouring added. Really.
We eventually switched positions and I'll say this: doggie style felt a lot better. I like this position anyway, and it felt great. But whether or not that's because in that position there's more of a grip around the penis...
In any case, as this point I came. And I really don't think the lube helped with that. At all. If we'd continued in the missionary position, I'd have really had to work for maximum pleasure, and if I'm going to put in a lot of effort during sex, it has to be because I want to - right?

Despite the fact that it's extremely runny, it's very sticky afterwards. If you're lying in a post-coital afterglow haze, the last thing you want is to have the urge to get up and wash becuase there's a glue-like substance on your hands and sexy bits. But we did.
And the strawberry doesn't go away after you lock the bottle and put it back into the Durex bag underneath the bed (or wherever you put your stuff). It stays, it permeates. It defines what happens afterwards, whether you want to sleep, read or watch Glee in bed. You will have strawberry and it will be everywhere. You don't have a choice in the matter.
I'm not entirely sure the gimmick is completely justified, either. Yes, it's an OK gimmick, what with it being spring and all, but that's the thing. People may buy this merely because it's spring and that means picnicin' weather. But I think for a really enjoyable lube, the formula should be a little different. Unless you're in desperate need of extra moisture, in which case use some standard lube.

So, in conclusion: runny, sticky, tastes far too strong, leaves a bitter aftertaste. Even if you like strawberries, Durex do better 'taste' lubes, so I'd go for one of them if you're looking for something different. Sorry, people!

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Much Ado About Nothing

I'm currently writing an essay for university. It's not particularly that interesting - it's about hypothetical situations with hypothetical people. It's not even about the hypothetical people - it's about decisions one has to make when dealing with these people. Yeah, I know - theoretical training via the "learn by thinking about it" method. You'd think that we'd have learned this stuff through the practical side of the course. Ah well. Get it done and hand it in and then I can go back to being sulky, resentful and highly sexed.

I've never liked this course or this university. But at least some time ago sex was mentioned, even in a slightly perfunctory fashion and not even covering all bases. I am also aware that sex really isn't exactly much to do with this course or the job that it's training you up for. But it's one of the basic needs if you look at all as Maslow's hierarchy of human needs. (I didn't even know I was familiar with Maslow's hierarchy. That just slipped out. Bizarre.) As a result, I gave that perfectly irrelevant presentation about expressing sexuality last year, played mostly for laughs.

The problem I have isn't with this essay (although I'd rather not be writing it... I'd rather be lying on my back reading Green Arrow, or lying on top of a girl, preferably in a manner that involves penetration); it's with the stupid attitude my university takes towards sexuality - they don't really mention it. I'm not even talking about my course here. I've talked to students at the same university not studying the same course, natch. English students (ahh, those were the days...) studying Doctor Faustus (I repeat...) don't seem to have anything based on the subject at all. In three years. Back at my old alma mater we had an entire module on queer theory - not that I did the module, but it was an option - plus the opportunity to edit an anthology (my group chose sex, of course), hosted by a tutor who was very gleeful in being able to say the word "fuck". None of that here.

I've chatted online to an ex-computer science student (she quit after one year) who, according to her LJ profile, does incredibly erotic things to people over IRC. But back in my old university, there was also a computer science student who, so I hear, goes even further than that. This one graduated. As an English bod myself, I wouldn't have known her had I not heard her talking openly about online sex chat rooms.

There's an atmosphere of no sex in this university. It all feels very stilted. The one student who mentioned it, myself notwithstanding, only did so to tell me that she'd had sex with Johnny Borrell. She's not even there any more. People give me odd, even dirty, looks when I sit in a chair and read Belle de Jour. I'm afraid to even mention the subject in case I gain a reputation (as if I don't already have a reputation; I'm the resentful weird one with the loud voice). Where are the posters? Where's the music? Where are the people making snide references to prostitution and reading John Donne's The Flea?

My university doesn't 'do' sex. And I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

Sunday, 11 April 2010

A Party Song

I'm planning to play this song at a small gig next weekend.

Too risqué? Or just right? Tough, I'm playing it anyway.

Thursday, 8 April 2010

HNT - A good book

These are my hands. No, I don't like them much either.

Hand Another Hand

The book in my right hand is The Ingoldsby Legends, which - according to the title page - is by R. H. Barham, but appears to me to be a collection of folk tales best read aloud in a Scots brogue. There are stories in it like The Babes In The Wood, in poetry form. Very odd.

I'm not even sure I'm meant to have it. I rescued it from my mother, who was going to throw it away "because it's fallen to pieces; look at it." Well, yes, yes it had. But I can't bear to see books thrown away. So I took it, hid it, and this afternoon I raided my mother's stationery drawer. Scissors, glue, Sellotape. I set to with reckless abandon (the task, not the Blink182 song) and repaired the poor book, and now I have a readable copy. That is to say, there is a readable copy in my possession. I think it was my grandmother's; it probably still is. But I'll read it before asking around.

Because that's what you do with books, naturally.

Tuesday, 6 April 2010


"How did you do that?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't even aware that I was doing anything particularly special, which - given that sex itself is special - seems to be something of a contradiction. Great start to the post then, ILB. Well done. In any case, I knew that I was doing something different.

"I... don't know. I just..."

What I did is hard to describe. I just had slow sex. I mean, it was sex, but the strokes were long, deep and slow. I wasn't going particularly quickly, nor was I pulling out and slamming back in. I was just having sex á la most soft porn you'll see these days. That wasn't a conscious decision, either; it was just the right thing to do at the time - at least it seemed so.

"...just did."
"It was very..."
"Very intense, wasn't it?"

Yes. Intense. That is what it was. One of those times where the female orgasm starts and doesn't really stop. A long, rolling orgasm characterised by clutching of nails at skin and short, jerky movements on her part. Her part only, that is. I was being remarkably smooth, and consistent.

Whatever I did there, I hope I can manage it again, in any case.

Saturday, 3 April 2010

Game on!

The first time I had sex was at the age of 17, which is in fact the UK's average age for losing one's virginity, so I've heard tell. Judging by the people in my sixth form, you wouldn't believe that was true - having sex was either VERY, VERY BAD (according to the evangelical Christians, who I hung around with on account of the fact that I thought they needed a liberal to balance them out) or COMPLETELY UNOBTAINABLE (according to the geeks, who had yet to manage the sexy geek chique, and I hung around with because I, too, am a geek) or REGRETTABLE (according to the people who found a chance, grabbed it and later regretted every second). Whatever the reason, sex just wasn't going on in my sixth form, and therefore I was one of the first people to engage in flagrante delicto amongst us, not that I was counting or anything.

I think some people were counting, but I wasn't one of them.

What still surprises me about this was not that I had sex (I was in a relationship, after all) or the fact that it came out (I wasn't really keeping it much of a secret; it's not something to be ashamed of); rather, my peers' reaction to it was... well, an over-reaction. To be honest, I wasn't expecting to have had any chance at sexual activity before I left school, so I didn't have a game plan for what might happen if people had quizzed me. The story had got out that I'd, in the words of a casual mate, "got lucky" the year beforehand (a lie, naturally), and so I had to vehemently deny that one, but I didn't imagine having to justify myself having had sex. And yet, I did.

The comment I got most was, "...but I thought you were against sex before marriage?"
I still don't understand whether or not these people were listening when I stood up during an RE lesson in year 7 and gave an impassioned speech in favour of sex before marriage. Maybe they'd switched off by that point. Our drippy RE teacher certainly had - she wrote in my exercise book, in fact, can you love someone and not marry them. I wonder what happened to the casual use of the question mark?

Of course, once the school had settled down to this not-too-shocking-information, I got one of my friends informing me that now everyone absolutely hated me, "...because you're getting it and they're not."
Yes, and that's my fault, is it? I wasn't having sex with my then-girlfriend in order to make everyone jealous, or punish them for, well, anything, or even - as one of them seemed to think - as a form of revenge for... uhm... anything.

And then the telephone calls started on Saturday nights, " case you was gettin' any action wiv your bird."
I tended to be on the journey home on Saturday nights. Despite me giving them all the details (well, not all the details, but a vague outline of what my weekend involved - it wasn't that exciting). They never caught me, ahem, 'getting any action'.

So, I learned my lesson. Don't have sex, and if you do, don't tell anyone about it. They'll start to act strangely around you, as if you're about to have sex with them. Okay, that last bit's not particularly accurate. I just needed a snappy way to end this one.

This entire entry was typed while listening to Little Boots.

Thursday, 1 April 2010

Spam gets clever!

I've had these fake Facebook invites before (along the lines of "join Facebook and speak to all these naked girls"), but then I got this one:

Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do know that last person. What I'd like to know is how you know I know that person.

I think someone may be spying on me...