Saturday, 28 August 2010

Coming out

I like the look of girls lying on their side in grass. Uh, the stuff that grows on a lawn, that is, not the dodgy kind. A girl lying on a bed of weed sounds a bit too much like the bastard child of American Beauty and Ali G Indahouse. I'm talking about lying on standard grass. On their side.


I'm not doing very well at explaining this, am I? Well, Summer Strallen - who I've decided is actually pretty attractive for someone who's actually had to resort to being in Hollyoaks - starred in the London production of The Sound of Music a few years back; thus, I was beseiged - during commutes - to a poster of her in costume with the caption "Summer comes early!" (which, alas, I can't find a picture of, although anyone who's about to sleep with her, take note...). On a similar vein, Nelly Furtado's first album - before she decided to be all slutty - featured a similar picture.

So why is it that it's an attractive image?

Well, first of all, I think it's something to do with the relaxed look and feel of the whole thing. I mean, it's pretty clear that, if you do in fact have the time to lie on your side and look into a camera between blades of grass, you're likely to also have the time to chill out for a bit. You're already lying on some grass, which suggests that it's sunny, so it's the perfect time to do so. But enough of that, we know what it's really about. It's about having sex outside, and despite what I may have inferred, I'm not aiming to do that with either Nelly Furtado or Summer Strallen.

Lying in the grass on your side may well be fun, but what about lying on your side naked? In the grass? Outside? With the sun beating down on you? And here's the essential part... what about me behind you, also on my side, with my cock buried between your thighs, making love to you? Doesn't that sound appealing?

It does to me, anyway. I've never had sex outside, on the grass, in summer. And the worst part of realising this fact is the simultaneous realisation that my parents' house has an extremely big garden, and I've just had a week of playing house with my lovely girlfriend while my parents - nay, my entire family - have been away, leaving us on our own.

Not that we didn't have sex. We did. Rather a lot. On the living room floor. On my bed. Numerous times. She made a lot of noise; I made a lot of mess. We used buzzing cock rings. I used my tongue a lot. We got to walk around naked if we wanted to. What's more, we could have sex if we wanted to. We didn't have to be sneaky - we just could, so we did. But one thing we didn't so, due to the inclement weather, was have sex al fresco. The rain, the dew and the general mugginess of the whole situation made that an option that wasn't so appealing. The hot summer that was threatening to break upon London earlier in the year was over before we got to take full advantage of the situation. Damn you, British weather.

So there we have it - a new sexual fantasy - no, sexual ambition. Because this one's achievable. Not exactly easy to do, but if we get another spell of hot, dry weather and an afternoon where we have a garden available with no parental observation - well, who knows, eh? We may get lucky after all!

Roll on, Indian summer - and let the sexperimentation recommence!

Thursday, 19 August 2010

HNT: Pokémon Mini

Bizarre as it may seem, that is in fact a console with interchangeable cartridges. It's smaller than a Game Boy Micro - hell, it's less than half the size of a Game & Watch - and yet it's still one of the best pieces of hardware Nintendo ever made. It's extremely powerful - the resolution is light and sharp, and the music and sound are pretty good for a system that doesn't have any speakers. The cartridges are all the size of a postage stamp, and - despite the limitations of the franchise (they're all Pokémon themed, in line with the name of the console) - the games are ridiculously addictive. Mind you, I only have two. I've got about 20 for the SNES, so maybe I need to up my Pokémon Mini game collection.

Oh, and if you're after something more interesting than video games - well, that's difficult to find. But my girlfriend's first HNT works for me.

Tuesday, 17 August 2010

That's what I love about you

I don't want to masturbate.

Uhm, well, that's a lie. Of course I want to masturbate. There's practically nobody in the 13-50 age bracker that hasn't wanted to at some stage in their lives. I personally perfected the art at the age of 18 and, despite multiple attempts to quit, I found I couldn't. It's only when I read an article which said that a daily release of sexual energy was good for you that I stopped feeling so guilty. Plus, it's not a difficult task.

This is also the perfect time. It's nearing 9pm (which used to be my "it's okay to look at porn" time), it's raining outside (I love the rain, and it's especially beautiful at night), which I've always found romantic, and most of all - I had a very stressful, busy day at work. I'm sure I'm not alone in proposing the idea that a good way to unwind is to go home and masturbate. It's very primal of me, but I'd hope you'd agree, right?

But I'm just not in the mood, not really.

Over the past few days, sex has reared its beautiful head and given a bestial roar of territorial claimancy. It seems more prevalent than ever, and I, for one, welcome our new sexual overlords. We have CCK recruiting people for their new shop (yes, I am stupidly excited; no, I am not going to apply for a job, they don't have the family-friendly one I'm training for in their coffee shop that sells vibrators and erotic art, surprisigly enough), my sister's blonde friend staying in the house and their constant chatter regarding boyfriends and suchandsuch, and I have a BlackBerry with the Twitter app, so I can keep track on people, particularly OEN, who appears to be so highly sexed at the moment that she's in danger of floating away (you go, girl!).

And I want to have sex. I want to share it with someone, rather than just get myself off and end up feeling sheepish in front of a computer screen. Pleasant though that may be, I'm just not really feeling it.

Of course, my girlfriend would be the ideal person to have here with me. She's not, or I probably wouldn't be writing this. But... she will be. Not for a while. Well, Friday. That's a while, in my book. Exacerbated, of course, by the fact that we haven't seen each other for about a month and a half (if you count almost exactly one week as "a month and a half". Let's not split hairs.), and it's hurting. The fact that my BlackBerry keeps cutting out during our night-time 'phone conversations (read: story-telling / missing each other) doesn't help matters, either.

But the fact of the matter is this.

On Friday morning, my parents, sister, and sister's blonde friend will be leaving, with the rest of the extended family (who all live within a quater-of-a-mile radius from this house), to go on a family holiday that they've been planning for a year. I'm not going because I have to work - besides, I have no real interest in going, anyway; if I were there, I'd almost certainly wander off for walks on my own 90% of the time (it's in Devon, so there should be lots of places to walk) - so this leaves me with a totally empty house (if you don't count the cat), a girlfriend in situ, and = if this whole not-masturbating thing continues - a good few days' worth pent-up sexual energy to exert. Plus, you know, this:-

- 8 bottles of lube
- 4 vibrating toys
- 3 boxes of massage products
- 2 collections of lube in little sachets
- a bottle of orgasmic gel for women
- 47 unused condoms, of various persuasions (47 the number, not the person)
- a penis

Empty house. Yeah, like nothing's going to happen this weekend.

I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. And so the régime of relaxing after work by the more traditional method of lying on one's back with the eyes closed (and, if one feels the need to turn on the computer, puzzling over Nightlong: Union City Conspiracy for well over an hour at a time) well and truly established, keeping my sexual energy well and truly bottled up shouldn't be tricky.

In fact, it's not even a challenge... It's a fun way of waiting!

Sunday, 15 August 2010

I Have Never...

- had sex in a moving vehicle
- had sex in the shower
- achieved orgasm from being on the receiving end of oral sex
- masturbated in a public place (really public)
- had a crush on, sex with, or kissed, a member of the same sex

Everything else, I appear to have done.

Note to self: never, ever suggest that you play the same drinking game at your sister's birthday parties again.

Tuesday, 10 August 2010

The Correct Procedure

"Could you... go down on me?" said H.
I raised a quizzical eyebrow. My hesitant response was interrupted by one of the ubiquitous waitresses who appeared out of nowhere to ask us if we wanted any more drinks (we didn't).
"You asked him that?" I eventually said.
"And he didn't?"
I thought. Girl asks you to do something, while she's having sex with you, you generally - unless you have some sort of phobia, or it's outside your comfort zone - would do it. Going down on H - or, let's face it, anyone - is hardly going to be a task that's arduous, or unusual. It happens. I go down on TD all the time. Come to think of it...
"But he should have!" I said, unaware that I had raised my voice. "Especially if he wasn't making you come; I mean, personally, I think it's a good idea to give a girl oral sex before full sex happens..."
There was a slight pause while I articulated my continuation.
"'s a good chance to start off by giving her an orgasm, or at least getting her wet, because afterwards penetration is easier and much more comfortable. And it's pleasurable for her too, which should be your aim..."
There was another pause.
"...well, that's what I think, anyway."
"I bet you'd be a great shag," grinned H.
"I practice a lot," I said, mostly.
"In my head," I added (in my head).

Monday, 9 August 2010


I haven't really been particularly sexually active recently. But before I go any further, I'd like to say that this isn't exactly my fault. Nor is it the fault of my girlfriend. It's more... well... I'm not sure what it is. But anyway, I haven't had sex since...well, yesterday morning.

Okay, so that's not the best of examples. I really should explain.

I mentioned earlier on that I'm on sick leave from work. Well, I still am. This is taking slightly longer than I had originally anticipated. Not that I exactly begrudge myself for taking sick leave, per se; not that I had much of a choice, given that my college (and the work placement themselves) put me on sick leave due to the fact that they were 'concerned' (a word that always rings alarm bells, yes?). But anyway, I'm still on leave, and the summer holidays are a tricky time for this sort of placement. But I'm sure something will come up.

Anyway, I've been away from work for a while and I've been spending a lot of time in the company of TD, who wasn't exactly the easiest person to get hold of while at work - which was an annoyingly ubiquitous commitment, despite the fact that I was supposed to be having two days off per week. I didn't seem to be doing that. In fact, the first thing I did when leaving my college building a free man for the next week (which actually turned out to be three weeks) was rock up to Oxford and see her.

Point is, we've been unable to have sex because:-
i) there have been times when she/I has been too ill to have sex
ii) there have been times when she/I has been too upset to have sex
iii) there have been times whe she/I has been too tired to have sex (read: asleep)
iv) at one point, we were staying with a devoutly Christian couple, who had us sleeping in separate rooms
v) at one point, I gave her such intense oral sex that by the time I was finished, I had expended all my energy, and so had she (although this one I didn't mind at all!)
vi) I use too many italics

Anyway, so. We had sleepy sex yesterday morning - because it's fun, natch - but, as TD herself pointed out - we haven't been having sex as much as we usually do over the last seven-or-so days. The opportunity, I daresay, has not exactly presented itself. Plus, I don't know when I'll be seeing her next.

But let's look at this on the bright side. I don't have sexual repression. I don't have withdrawal symptoms... I'm just building the energy up...

So when I get my chance...

Wednesday, 4 August 2010

Waiting for the great leap forwards

One of my cousins has recently turned 21. Her boyfriend took her to Paris, which I find befuddling, personally. She looks like something out of a Tim Burton film, and he looks a bit like he's raided Cheryl Cole's wardrobe, so I'd think somewhere like Transylvania may suit them more. Yeah, but Paris is nice, nevertheless. And I'll admit they make a cute couple. In fact, they suit really well.

So it was unsurprising that he popped the question - the big one - while they were in Paris. And after that, he asked her to marry him. She said yes.

I found this out the wrong way.

I was trying to sleep when the 'phone rang. It was nearing 11pm. We had gone to bed at about half ten - knackered, to tell you the truth - and since our 'phone rarely rings much, especially at that time, it was a bit of a surprise. But I sure as hell wasn't going to get out of bed.

I heard footsteps and my mother's voice.

"Hello? ... Oh, hello, you!"

I think the whole neighbourhood heard.

"I wonder who's pregnant?" I whispered to TD, who shifted, but said nothing.

"WHAT HAPPENED, EXACTLY?" yelled my mother.

After a while, it became apparent that nobody was pregnant. There's nobody in my immediate family who would be in such a position to do so, anyway. Well, not deliberately. The word is that my cousin with large breasts has been sleeping with the young raver, but even they used a condom. Or so I hear...
"Someone's got engaged?" I whispered to TD, although I already had a shrewd idea of what had happened. Wow, I'm such a great detective. It only took me ages to guess.
TD whispered my cousin's name, with a finality to her voice. My mother's yell of, "DID HE ASK YOU ON TOP OF THE EIFFEL TOWER? DID HE?!" seemed to confirm it, in a much louder manner than I had perhaps wanted.

I turned onto my side and tried to get back to sleep, confident in the knowledge that:
a) everyone's going to be wondering why it isn't me...
b) ...for the first ten minutes, beofre they start getting all excited about a wedding...
c) ...which isn't going to be likely for about three years
d) this is going to be unbearable
e) I have got to get out of this house

An excited knock on my door shattered the relative silence.

"Did you... did you know..." my mother started.
"Yes, I heard," I shouted back, deliberately leaving it ambiguous as to whether I'd heard some other way or "heard" her voice. It was the latter, obviously. As it was evident that I wasn't going to get any more sleep, I slipped out to fetch myself some milk.
"Do you think she'll ask you to be a pageboy?" my mother squealed as soon as she saw me, at which point I had a horrific vision of me in a sailor suit. Most porn isn't even that bad. I did want to be a pageboy at my auntie's wedding, but I was about 9 at the time. I got made an usher. I shudder to think what the bridesmaids will look like - multiple versions of the Corpse Bride, probably.

Not that I could avoid the news any longer. It's been the constant topic of conversation for my mother - strange, since it's not even her daughter, but that's mothers for you - ever since. Plus, I got the ultimate reminder this morning - a relationship change on Facebook. That most crucial of notifications.

I ought to say something, I thought. Something not too sarky, but not too glowing either. I did toy with, "really? I hadn't heard," but that would be a bit strange, even for me - I mean, it's not my cousin's fault that my mother is going to be a pain to live with for a few months.
"Oh, good for you, honey," I settled on. Yes, I do realise I stole that from the wedding special of Green Arrow and Black Canary. But it seemed the right thing in the circumstances.

I'll let you all know how this one works out.