Monday, 31 January 2011

Capitalism is not pretty

So, what am I happiest doing? It's an odd question and it's been asked by a few people recently, particularly in light of the fact that I'm still struggling to find the energy to struggle to find work. I've got energy for other endeavours, of course. I did open mike last night and could hardly sit still, even through all the other acts including an incredibly cute a capella girl. Finding a job is difficult anyway, on account of the fact that I have very little idea what I actually want to do, coupled with the current economic climate which pretty much guarantees that the richest people around are members of the Mafia.

That is to say, publicly I have no idea what I want to do. Privately, I want to blog. I am happiest writing these posts. Okay, so I'm probably happier while actually having sex, but that doesn't count (mostly because I'm not having any?!). Something I can depend upon, something which I can do, something which doesn't seem like a chore (updating my other website), a necessity (stacking the dishwasher, etc.) or a demand (fill this form in, or else!) - it's writing this blog. I like it and I'd like to think I'm not bad at it. Okay, some posts aren't great, but some are genuinely fun to write. And, of course, it means I get to drink tea, which is good too.

This would be a lot easier if I were still in full-time education. Okay, maybe if I were 17, writing a sex blog may be a little suspect (although I was already visiting sex IRC rooms at that age - shhh, don't tell the media!), but while I was at university first time around, I could have done with writing a sex blog. I didn't particularly enjoy my first year and a half at university (third year was OK), but it was tolerable. And I was doing English, so there was always something new to read or write, and great discussions to be had in the seminars.

Second time around, the university was terrible, the course was terrible and some of the teachers were absolutely dire. I had my girlfriend all the way through and the support of my friends both in and out of the course, but I don't know how I'd have coped if I hadn't had my sex blog. Why? Again, it was something I could do, and something that was disconnected from the course and the placements I so despised. I wasn't really grinding them out as much as I was earlier on, when I was a teaching assistant (again, also rather suspect; but it's anonymous, dammit), or as I am now, now that I have been cast adrift. But I could, if I wanted, sit in a computer room at college and bang one out (a post, not an orgasm. I could have orgasmed as well, of course, only I may not have been able to return to college afterwards), and that often made me feel better: laying out truths, recounting amusing anecdotes or sorting my head out, via ILB.

It was my saving grace... and what made me feel so good about it was that (almost) every word came from my fingertips, giving the keyboard my equivalent of a sexy massage.

So actually, I do know what I want to do. I want to sit here and write my sex blog. I don't currently, and never will, make any money out of this, but it's specifically designed that way. I don't want epileptic spasmodic banners, popups, pop-unders or over-commercialised sidebars. It's just not me. Sex is free, after all, so why shouldn't I be?
But I know what I want to do. I want to get a job which is tolerable enough to do which I wouldn't mind doing, would be OK, and which would allow me to return home and tap out an entry into ILB, should the urge arise. Yeah, so being a sex writer would be OK (I've actually written "sex writer" in the list of ten jobs I would like to do that the Job Centre is making me fill out), but then again, so would being an international rock star.

As long as whatever I do still allows me to write here... well, I guess that would be okay.

Sunday, 30 January 2011

Soft Porn Sunday: Leah York & Jason Schnuit

"Schnuit". I mean, really. "Schnuit." In every film he's in, he's credited as Jay Stewart. I can see why.

And so finally I get around to talking about Surrender Cinema. For those of you who haven't encountered Surrender Cinema... what were you doing with your adolescent years? Surrender are one of the most successful softcore film producers of the '90s and early 2000s. Their films are characterised by the same actors in each one playing characters which are... well... not really too different, exactly, as well as a variation in acting talent (usually hovering around the 'low' mark) and a plot which serves to hold together sex scenes.

But the scenes are almost always good ones, with plenty of action, movement, and decent enough music. They are ridiculously kitsch, but if it's soft porn, it needs to be, unless it's sufficiently classy enough to avoid the laughability factor. Surrender has never taken any of its films seriously, and this is no exception. Take the title of this one, for example:

Appearance: The Exotic Time Machine II: Forbidden Encounters (2000)
Characters: Moonbeam & Chuck

Believe it or not, there's actually a film called The Exotic Time Machine. And they had the temerity to make a sequel and stick a subtitle onto it. Good one, Surrender.

I actually owned this on VHS for a while. I eventually sold the VHS on eBay when I realised that I wasn't enjoying the plot m
uch - it's even ridiculous by Surrender standards - and that a lot of the sex scenes had been cut short. I did, however, remember watching the uncut version on Bravo, and eventually managed to download some of them from the gool ol' internet. I can't remember when, exactly, but I've got 'em.

So, this scene. It never fails to get me off. Crude, perhaps, but it's the truth. I don't know what it is about it. Maybe it's the actress, Leah York. She doesn't appear in any other Surrender Cinema movies. Nor does she appear in any other movies at all. Very odd, that, considering that they have a stable of other actors and actresses that they continue to use (take the main haracter, Chuck - Jay Stewart is in EVERYTHING ELSE EVER).

The plot go
es thus: Chuck (Stewart) is travelling through time - no, wait, bear with me - where he chances upon some other people. While his girlfriend meets Merlin (David Christensen) - yes, the Merlin - and King Arthur, Chuck accidentally arrives in the '70s and happens to see two hippy chicks - Trippy (Melissa Burke) and Moonbeam (York) making love. Because, erm, that's what hippies do, evidently. So they give him some LSD - although a more appropriate acronym might be WTF - and he trips, eventually coming down just as the girls are going to go out on some sort of protest. "What's the big hurry?" quips Chuck, and then Moonbeam proceeds to have sex with him.

Okay, that's about the best precursor to a sex scene I've ever seen. At least they score points for effort.

This scene doesn't actually contain much sex. There's a lot of foreplay, while Moonbeam and Chuck undress themsevles - why don't they do each other? - and a bit of implied oral sex (Bear in mind: softcore - no actual oral sex occurs. York's head is in between Stewart's legs and the camera work is strategic enough to create the illusion, that his cock is, indeed, in her mouth. It isn't.). The setting is a suitably new-agey one, with a cool design on sofa, flowers in pots and posters on the wall saying things like, "HUGS" and "VIETNAM - DON'T GIVE A DAMN" (no, I don't understand that one either). And Moonbeam's costume is suitably hippie, until it comes off.

And then it all happens. The music, which has been appropriate up until the last thirty seconds of the scene, suddenly crescendos - with electric guitar, where'd that come from? - as we fade to Moonbeam on top of Chuck. Much more familiar. There's a second fade, where we move to another position (although she's still on top). This continues for a short while until the scene ends. And that's your lot.

So why does it always work for me? There's nothing particularly special about it. The most likely explanation - and I think it's the correct one, to boot - is probably a combination of the music - music is an essential component of sodftcore and its crescendo when the actual sex starts is a very nice touch - and Moonbeam's hair, which is blonde, and in long bunches, which I think is actually very cute. And her body isn't bad, either - speaking of which, although I only bat for one team, Stewart isn't bad to look at. There's a lot of bouncing, as well - which gives the impression of quite fun sex. It's just a bit of a pity it doesn't last any longer.

I don't often watch this one, really. Just because it manages to make me climax if I'm engaged in that particular pastime. Yes, I know that's the point, but I'd rather vary my viewing schedule somewhat. Still, this one will do in a pinch, and for that, I doff my straw cap and give a peace sign to this scene, from the movie which should really have a much less pretentious title, starring the girl who's never seen again and the guy whose real name is "Schnuit", from the studio who, for some reason, really know how to make 'em.

Friday, 28 January 2011

Addendum to the previous entry...

Hmmm. That post I wrote yesterday really was awful, wasn't it? One of the worst posts I've ever written. It sounds desperate. It wounds whiney. It sounds dumb.

Nevertheless, it's true. I got the same e-mail five times today in response to my "geek looking for a girlfriend" post:

hi [name]
I like the net, I can meet new people and sometime we can get jiggy, heheh
Are you still looking to meet someone?
Let's meet and see what happens? Cool?
I am at:

http://[some address here]
[some posts add, "I am in x row, y from the left"]

love, [different name]

You're not fooling anyone.

Thursday, 27 January 2011


Leah wrote a post recently about the death of Craigslist. While her post dealt with a problem - that is, of being flagged the minute you place an ad - I, as a boy, have have other problems with Craigslist - namely, there not being any real girls on it. Except Leah... but I've never seen her on there.

The same problem was rife on Gumtree, and it's also prevalent on specifically adult dating sites, like AFF. Evidently, while I was in a relationship with TD, there was absolutely no need to visit these sites, but Leah's post piqued my interest, especially as I had just posted a speculative ad on London's Craigslist myself. I didn't get any replies (as has happened before), so I wrote out and sent a generic e-mail to all the w4m ads in the 'casual encounters' section. I got few replies back, but those that did come back all followed the same pattern. Something like this:

Hi there,
We met a little while back, from my advert on Gumtree I think it was.
That's stupid that its offline now.
Well I am again looking to meet guys.
I'm gonna be here
Superb web site, very busy.
Hopefully see you there.

This is, of course, a scam. But they all follow the same pattern. Shortened URLs all pointing to a site you need to sign up for. Some of them even add you to MSN and try to point you to a site that, they claim, is for verification purposes... or otherwise.

Here's my profile , it's got my number listed once you've verified, more photos, even a video, phone me Sweety!

And again...

Oh my friend just came in by the way and I told her about you lol well excited. She said to me though that I should ask you to do an online background check first to make sure you are not a sex offender or something lol. Would you do that for me quickly, because she won't let me go without pfftt. She just made me create an account here on this website

And again...

I'm kinda nervous as i haven't done anything like this before... I just want to be safe so I found a site that gives you my mobile after making sure that you're not a sex offender. Doesn't cost you a thing, you get a free trial membership, and that's all you need...well, that and a computer, it doesn't like phones for some weird reason.

And again!

You up for taking this to the phone? I've got so many replies flooding in that I can't reply to them all. My number is on my dating profile, register and click the button that says 'view emily's number'. It's fast, and totally free, so don't worry.

So today I posted another ad... this time, on the regular 'men seeking women' section. I didn't mention sex, I kept it very light and mentioned that I was a geek looking for a girlfriend. This was the response I got...

How is CL doing for you? I got fed up with placing ads and hearing from a bunch of losers. My locks are brown, but looks red when I'm in the sun. I guess it's called 'autumn'. I'm 5'1", my friends call me Tinkerbell. I'm not kidding. what do you do for a living? I am a gradeschool teacher. But I'm rethinking it. So ... what do you think? Wanna hook up? Let me know. Bye!

Sounds very American, but I replied, and this came:

I am all set! Let's get together. I do not feel like undertaking the texty-texty thing. Let's make a meeting, and hit it. Have you been a naughty boy? I've been a really bad girl. Perhaps we ought to discipline one another. on this website [link removed - ILB] Seriously, this place rocks. NO KIDS ALLOWED, though. Poke me, 0simplegirl11 Since I am married, I hope you will be discreet. I can't wait to hook up.

How familiar that sort of response looked.

All these links lead to one of the following:
(i) A webcam site.
(ii) A porn site.
(iii) A fake verification site.
(iv) An adult dating website.

All of them result in loss of money. And none of them result in sex. At all.

I'd be interested in seeing if the same sort of thing happens to girls. I suspect not. They may have their problems too, but I'll be damned if any genuinely honest guy ever really hooks up via Craigslist.

Tuesday, 25 January 2011


I just applied for a job which required me to write a book review.
And had a conversation with my dad about my grandfather's test results (he's fine).
And replied to a text from Robinson asking if I want to go to the pub.
And tidied my room.

While having cybersex.

This is why I am awesome.

Monday, 24 January 2011

Tuning In

I had this discussion a good few years ago, and my answer is still the same.

"Sex or music?" asked my Irish friend. "If you could only take one, but get rid of the other, from your life, what would it be?" Bear in mind, as you read this, the provisos in place: you had to choose one thing to keep. You would get rid of the other thing entirely. But you wouldn't know it didn't exist. If you didn't know either sex or music existed, you'd probably invent it again. That's human nature.

"Sex," answered Robinson.
"Sex," said Hairy Friend.
"Sex," said Mane.
This continued for a long while, with everyone choosing sex. The Irish friend, who had started the discussion in any case, was exempt from answering (he said), but truthfully he said he didn't know. I, however, did know.
"Music," I said.
Everyone stared.

There are a multitude of reasons for this. Sex is important to me - it's a very big part of my life, whether I'm having it, or not! It's part of the most basic level of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs - everyone has a level of sexuality, even the asexual, as not expressing sexuality is a way of expression, to a point - right? And I love it. I love doing it, I love people's views on it, I love talking about it, looking at it, thinking about it, reading about it, writing about it. I love it. I love sex. It is fantastic.

But music - music is my lifeblood. I live and breathe music. There hasn't been a day go by when music hasn't played some part. I listen, I play and I sing. Constantly. And the point I put across to my friends - or tried to - is that music is also an essential for life. Without music, there would be no rhythm. You wouldn't be able to walk without a rhythm. You wouldn't be able to tapo your feet to a beat or do anything that requires synchronisation. It would be very hard to appreciate any sort of aesthetic, as art is all interconnected (or it is, in my mind). Sound would lose much meaning, talented people would appear untalented, and - as my IT teacher told me when I asked him the question a few years later - music helps you meet people. "If it weren't for one, I wouldn't have the other," he quipped, "as I met my wife through the band I used to play in!"

I still don't know why Maslow didn't put music into his Hierarchy of Needs. I've only ever met one person who doesn't like it, and he's a git.

But I don't think it's really fair to square one off against the other. What is sex, after all, if it doesn't have a rhythm? What's it like for people who don't have any music? Awkward is a good guess. And music brings people together. I've had sex to the tunes of Tim Booth, Joni Mitchell, Nina Simone... all sorts. It doesn't help one iota if you're not that good, perhaps... but does it hurt? Porn has music, right?

I think sex and music go hand-in-hand. You can't ask me to choose, because one without the other seems to lack quite a lot of point. And, although it kills me to say this, if I did have to choose... music. Why? Because it's just more reliable.

And beautiful, too.

Sunday, 23 January 2011

Soft Porn Sunday: Elizabeth McDonald and Kerr Smith

While we're about to address the subject of adult entertainment, I thought this would be worth a link: the paper by Brooke Magnanti (aka Belle de Jour), on the subject of lap dancing and its relation (or not so, in fact) to rape statistics in Camden. You can read it or not, it's your choice. But read it, it's actually interesting.

Anyway, to deviate entirely from adult entertainment, I am now going to review a scene that's not in an adult film. That's right. Mainstream OMG SCANDAL.

Appearance: Cruel Intentions 3 (2004)

Characters: Leggy Blonde & Jason Argyle

I didn't know it existed either. And it shouldn't really exist, in the name of public decency. I didn't even know there was a Cruel Intentions 2. I've never even seen the first Cruel Intentions. WHY DO I KNOW THIS SCENE EXISTS? There are so many tings that are wrong with this! I'm surprised that I even downloaded this, never mind watching it and, for some unearthly reason, getting turned on by it! Why doesn't the universe collapse into an infinitely dense dot? I mean, seriously... Cruel Intentions 3?! I'm Innocent Loverboy, not The Nostalgia Critic!

Anyway, this is one of the dumbest films I've ever seen. Bear in mind that I've seen a lot of films, and that includes such gems as Leprechaun III, The Human Centipede and TRON: Legacy, a film so far up itself that if it were human, it would be difficult to work out where its arse stops and the rest of its body begins. So to call Cruel Intentions 3 dumb is quite an achievement. I wateched it with my sister, who is a young lady of 21 so natu
rally owns the trilogy on DVD, and her once-boyfriend-and-now-best-friend who everyone calls Bez, even though he's probably too young to know who Bez is. I'm still not sure why we watched it. Maybe it's some sort of induction activity.

It took me a while to recover.

Anyway, scene... yes. Well, it's the best scene in the movie, but that's probably because it doesn't have any dialogue in it.

There isn't much of a plot to this movie, but it's a teen film, so if it has the adequate amount of indie pop and
I'm bringing sexy back...some inoffensive nudity, plot doesn't matter. So here's what happens: Dumb but attractive Jason (Smith), and equally dumb but brash Patrick, are American college students. They're never shown to do any amount of work, laze around by a random pool all day and randomly lay attractive girls with very little effort. Needless to say, this isn't radically different from my own university experience - deviating, as it does, in a mere three areas.

"So, who's that, then?" I asked, as nothing happened for about twenty minutes and suddenly the scene cut to Jason being ridden by a random blonde.
"Random blonde!" grinned my sister. (Which is a pretty good approximation, as she's actually credited as "Leggy Blonde" in the credits.)
Bez choked a little on his pizza.

I wasn't exactly paying the most attention, but afterwards I saw this scene again, and JESUS CHRIST THAT'S AN INDREDIBLY SEXY BACK.

Look at it. Just look at it. Look at those curves! Look at the line in its middle! Look at that clean, unblemished skin! Look at the way her hair falls down her back! Awesome, awesome back. I've got this thing about girls' backs. Ahem. Anyway.

Jason is having sex with a leggy blonde. No, that's it. There's no explanation and it makes no point to the plot. She never appears again and he never remarks upon it. What's it supposed to prove? That he's some sort of male whore, sleeping with a leggy blonde because he can? Yes, probably. Maybe it's just a bit sexist. I don't know. I don't care much, either way. Nobody should be watching this movie in any case.
Leggy Blonde is sitting on Jason, riding him steadily. No thrusting, no jerky movements. Fluid and steady. We get a few shots of her gorgeous back, a tiny bit of bum, a kiss, then the classic mix pan upwards during which we see a bit of breast, then her face (which is pretty). Some sort of orgasm and Leggy Blonde falls on top of Jason. He wraps her arms around her. Cliché heaven.

But it's done with a larger budget than most of the movies that would featurethis type of love scene, ergo: it is shot well. Yes, there's some incredibly bland indie pop in the background with a very moany singer, and yes, this sort of thing never really happens in university (as far as I know, anyway!). And yes, Kerr Smith can't act. Even when he's sitting under and attractive blonde with a very sexy back, he can't act. But the saving grace of this scene comes from Elizabeth McDonald, who is good-looking enough to make this one sexy, and has fluid enough movement in her body not to make this a wasted scene. Bit of a shame that it's carried almost entirely on her curves (and, as I said, that could even be considered sexist), but it is her moment of glory, and she does it well.

I suppose one does have to consider that this isn't a soft porn film. It's a teen drama - and a particularly poor example of one, although towards the end it does confront the issue of rape, which is kind of brave. It just doesn't do it particularly well. And I suppose they didn't have to put in a gratuitous sex scene near enough to the beginning - it doesn't really add anything. But they did, and they did it well enough. And McDonald has a lovely back. So, for that, I applaud them.

But with a very, very slow clap.

Saturday, 22 January 2011


I try to write in ILB every day, often failing. But I usually get at least one entry out per week. At the moment, since I have nothing else to do, you're getting more and more entries of increasingly poor quality. Aren't you lucky?

I also have a LiveJournal, which has been going for much longer, and is also much less of a read, as it's mostly the ins and outs of my very, very sad real life. Evidently, I'm not linking the two. I'm supposed to be anonymous. I don't often feel like I need to update my LJ so much, as I know my parents read it and therefore I can't lay it all as bare as I used to in the earlier days of my ownership of said LJ. Anyway.

For the past four entries, I've been updating my LJ according to their "Writer's Block" feature, which gives you a question to answer. They are often inane piees of fluff, but then again, the "favourite superhero" one gave me a chance to write for half an hour about Green Arrow. (Although, as my mother pointed out, Earthworm Jim may have been a good idea too). The last two, however, make me sound very maudlin.

How would you describe your ideal romantic partner in six words?
Accepts me for who I am.

This is probably not exactly what they were thinking of - the LJ friend I had who answered this one had a list of six adjectives, which is fine. But that really is my ideal. I don't want to be changed, I've spent most of my life trying to define who I am in any case! It hearkens back to my days of being eleven and my mother told me not to openly say to anyone that I believed in faeries, "...because you'll have lost all your friends before you've made them". A true friend would like me for who I am, not me-with-a-mask, and an ideal romantic partner would be the same. Me, not their idea of me.

And yes, I still do believe in faeries!

Today, this one came up.

Would you ever take someone back after they cheated on you, and why? What could change your mind?
I would, unconditionally and immediately. I may do something like cry for a few months straight, slit my wrists and push them through a glass door, run headlong into a metal wall 47 times or binge out on sherbet lemons, but I'd take her back.

Because that's what I do.

This one is also true, except that my response was a bit more sarcastic than I would have said if anyone asked me that question verbally and I was to give a response. I'd probably stop after the crying made me die from dehydration instead.

I've been cheated on many times by the same person, but I've never been cheated on by anyone else. It's very well to give a hypothetical answer, and to be fair, most hypothetical answers are along the lines of, "yes! of course, love over all!" or "no! of course not, what a sleazebag!". But it's not that easy.

But judging by what I did with Rebecca, I'd forgive. I wouldn't forget, because my memory isn't like that. It plagues me with things like this at the worst of times. But at the time I was still convinced that it was all my fault. That's how I'm wired, and I really can't help that. My halo glows as my heart dies... or anything else just as emo. Put me in that situation again, and who knows what might happen? But my best and greatest guess is that I'd apologise for not being a better boyfriend (?!), and work to continue the relationship.

The problem is, question #1 doesn't work with question #2. If I want a girl to love me for being me, and yet I'd do something to be a "better" boyfriend if she cheated, then how does that work? Because I wouldn't be me any more - I'd be an altered me - and I wouldn't want that kind of love.

Thus ends a much more detailed discussion of how I work romantically than I had originally intended.

Would have been much easier to answer the questions if they were pertaining to sex, though.

Thursday, 20 January 2011

The boy who waited!

So. Today I went on what may or may not have essentially been a date... I'm not sure of the classification and what counts as a date and what's lunch with a friend. I had lunch with a friend and I think she is lovely. That'll kind of do for an adequate description.

Could it have gone further? Would it? I hope so. I really do hope so. I would appreciate the chance to escape this hole I appear to have fallen (been pushed?) into, and escaping not just from the humdrum life I am leading, but London itself, if only for an hour or so. But we never got to find out if it would develop any further, as - despite her taking time in lieu at the moment - she got a call from work and they demanded her time - most likely not granting any extra time off, but that is the nature of the beast.

I decided to wait. There was no real indication of how long she would be. We said a hurried goodbye, and I bought a funny book from a chairty shop, slunk into a Starbucks, order a coffee, and waited.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

It was quite relaxing, this unfamiliar coffee shop in an unfamiliar town. No ubiquitous parents, no hurried crush of the faceless masses, no wondering what to do. I had coffee (hot chocolate, panini...), I had a book and I had a nice soft chair. I read, I sipped, I dozed, I dreamt. But mostly I just kept on waiting.

Eventually it was clear that I would do better to go home and recommence another day. Tomorrow? Weekend? Evening? Whenever. I don't have a job (even though it was made all too cleaer that she does) and I am both being curious and attempting to be more adventurous - it's all part of the New Year's resolution that I attempted to make.

So I went home. She finished her work, eventually. Apparently. I hope she is OK. I hope I'm OK.

Can we pick up where we left off?

Let's find out.

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Review: The Lovers' Guide 3D: Igniting Desire

Through a stroke of something like luck (okay... it was luck), yesterday I was invited to the preview screening of Lovers' Guide 3D: Igniting Desire. I went along, although without any particular expectations. Although, following a quick assault on Google, I was aware of their presence, I'd never seen a Lovers' Guide film before and so had very little idea of what was going to be presented. All I knew was that it was in 3D and had already been termed "the Avatar of sex-instruction movies" by The Times. I liked Avatar, so that was high praise in my mind.

Had I any expectations at all, they would have been something like Sex: How To Do Everything with Em & L
o, considering that the Lovers' Guides have been going for 20 years, and guessing that this would be one in a series, focusing on one aspect of sex, like oral, or kink, or penetration. I was wrong, and I've never been so glad to be wrong.

So, how do I describe it?

I thought she was looking at something on the ceiling, but it's pleasure, apparentlyProduced by Robert Page and William Campbell, with a script by Emily Dubberley and narration by Gemma Bissix of Hollyoaks (ouch) and Jeremy Edwards, also of Hollyoaks but also Holby City (double ouch), this Lovers' Guide is, essentially, an instructional video without being methodical, educational without being too preachy, sexual without being too arousing, and a guide which doesn't give too much guidance. No, I know I'm not making sense. I told you it'd be hard to explain.

The Guide divides itself into 13 sections (12, if you want to be superstitious, and take away the end credits), all of which deal with one aspect of what we'd consider sexual contact - sex, flirt, desire, kiss, caress, touch, lick
, spice, play, penetrate, climax, share - all packed into one hour. With this brief running time, each aspect was coverHmmm, someone had to choose between two fonts, and used both!ed to a degree comprehensive enough to go over all the basic aspects without going into too much detail or attempting to repeat the same point several times in order to pad it out. The film was presented with each title floating onto the screen and emitting a halo of 3D light, and then the narration, which lurches between Bissix and Edwards like a table tennis match of words, over a variety of scenes. Most of them depicted one of several couples having sex, but not in a totally random way - they fitted the narration, ergo:

Narrator: "Blah blah blah blah oral sex."
[Video of a couple having oral sex.]
Narrator: "Blah blah blah blah oxytocins."

[Scientific diagram showing the parts of the brain where said neurotransmitters fire off.]
Narrator: "Blah blah blah blah symphony orchestra."
[Video of the conductor having sex with one of the violinists.]

Except that last one. But you probably worked that out.

In all fairness, "blah blah blah blah" isn't a fair approximation of the script. At times the narration was a little overbearing (with the sound balance occasionally making it feel as if the narrators' voices were sticking into your head like a piece of glass), but the wording was spot-on. Not too little, not too much. The basic facts were presented in a
direct way and the visuals did the rest. Page and Campbell picked couples who were, in many cases, married or engaged, and so the pleasure we saw was real, which was pleasing. There was music, which was repeated over and over again (apart from the end credits music, which was amazing!) and became a bit tiresome, but not so much as to distract from the overall effect. So it was pleasant to engage in watching.

And the 3D element is not cheesy. Thank you, God. It doesn't really add much, but it's not really a gimmick, as such... the focal point of the viewing experience - people making love - is always presented in 3D. Everything else is blurred out or not in focus, which is perhaps a better alternative to traditional backgrounds, which may be distracting for the keen-eyed viewer. Here, you have something solid, definite, almost tactile, to look at.

So - well presented, good format, well laid-out, good script... now what's its target audience?
Here I had to stop and think. Who would watch this? It's called a lovers' guide, but is it merely a guide for lovers? Personally, I thought it might be suitable for two general groups of people:-

1. Lovers. Nothing wrong with revisiting the basics. Through conversations afterwards, we picked up on the idea that, although the film didn't really introduce anything earth-shattering or mind-blowing about the subjects addressed, it was very good as a refresher course. As Tom, Dubberley's boyfriend, put it, "we know all this stuff, but it got me thinking, why don't I act upon it?". Absolutely true. We had mutual masturbation, sex toys, light bondage, different sex positions, fantasising and skin-touching in the film, yet when I thought about it, how many of those things did I apply last time I had sex? It got people thinking about things, and that's actually what many lovers I've spoken to need to do more!

2. Virgins. It's an odd suggestion, but this one came up in conversation too. Our sex education program is still not great, and with a largely Tory government we're probably going to end up with it scrapped and children finding out about birds having sex with bees at some indeterminable point. A lot of sexual "education" when one is growing up comes from porn, which gives a largely unrealistic idea of what to expect! Sadly, if I were a teacher and suggested this, I'd probably be arrested! But in all honesty, if a group of young people who were thinking about having sex were to watch this, it would be a damn sight better education than putting a condom over a cucumber would ever be. Simple things like indulging in foreplay before penetration... fantasising during sex... masturbating alone and
I know it's a dildo, but it looks like a microphone... 'Jigglypuff, Jig-a-lee-ee-puff...!' with your partner. We know about them now (whether we do them or not - see point one!), but were we told about them in year 9, 10 or 11?

But however well-done this entire production is, it's difficult to imagine how it might be distributed. It's on release the week before Valentine's this year (Christ, Valentine's again - isn't it going to be depressing, single again on Valentine's?), but although they're aiming for an 18 rating, this has graphic depiction of penetration and all else, and I don't know how the BBFC may take to that.
"It's for educational purposes," said Dubberley, when I asked her about the potential problems of having male ejaculation on screen. "It's very different from what you'd see in porn." She's not wrong there. As I've mentioned before, it's realistic. But for all its good intentions, I think (although I hope, again, that I am wrong) that, this being Britain and all, The Lovers' Guide 3D may just prove difficult to find.

But surely that's more of a reason for watching it? Isn't that why people watch The Human Centipede? Isn't that why people read Spycatcher? Only you have an advantage with this... the team behind it want you to see it.

And so do I. Whoever you are, whatever sexual status you are in, or consider yourself to be in. This is 'edu-info-tainment' at its highest. It doesn't teach you anything - you don't learn anything new or groundbreaking, or even slightly left field - but it makes you think. And if you think about it, you can act upon it. And, at risk of being preachy, isn't that what sex is about, when it comes down to it?

So, if you can... see this. Watch it, take note of what it says, let it activate your brain, and make little sighing noises to yourself whenever it seems appropriate.

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Fortune favours the Innocent

I spent all day talking to the gorgeous Sexaholic BBW. I got invited to see a preview of a documentary/educational "Lovers' Guide" film in the evening. I went. I saw it, it was very good (review to come). I spent the rest of the evening with a very odd selection of drinking buddies, mainly: Anna (features writer for the Sunday Mirror's celebrity magazine) and her boyfriend, who is the manager of his own company, Emily Dubberley (sex writer, featured in Scarlet and other things, also freelance, also wrote the script for the film) and her boyfriend, Tom, who is a professional chef. Hi, if any of you are reading this!

Everyone talked openly about sex for hours. I drank lots of Diet Coke (it was free). Got a caffeine buzz and flew home. As you can imagine, I am still a bit high. Buzzing after what was, in the end, a pretty incredible day. Drinking hot chocolate and attempting to calm down.

Expect two posts coming tomorrow / whenever - a review of the film (I promised to review it) and another more reflective post about the evening. Hey, it deserves two posts. Don't judge me!


Quick Thinking 101


"Ahoy, hoy?"

*long pause*

"Hello, is that Mister... XXXXXX?"
"Well, it's one of them."
[Indian accent] "Hello, Mr XXXXXX, my name is Sam, and I am calling from Computer Consultancy Limited. We are doing a scan of the area, and we have noticed lots of malignant files on your computer and we would like to know if we can help to remove them."


"Uh, well, actually I am an IT consultant, and I don't think there's anything wrong with my computer."
"You are an IT person?"

*click - whirrrrr.....*

Monday, 17 January 2011


I get some interesting spam sometimes, but I got one this morning (which I deleted without opening, natch) which contained in the title the intriguing word "horsegirl". I think I know what that means, but it could really mean anything. What's a horsegirl? Something like this? Something like that? Or a female version of a horseman - that is to say, a centaur?

"Centaur" is a much nicer word. "Horsemen" are encountered in Steve Jackson's Sorcery! books, but they are not particularly intelligent, aggressive, and warriors. Centaurs in Harry Potter, the Narnia series and other fiction, back to more traditional representations of such, are more intelligent, peaceful, reflective stargazers, who are skilled with weaponry, but only fight when provoked to do so. Anyway, I've never heard of any female centaurs, but they must exist in order for the race to procreate, so I made one.

Presenting my horsegirl.
Presenting my horsegirl. Yes, I used a dollmaker. Sorry about that. I sketch a lot, but my artistic skills aren't up to this standard, I'm afraid.

The thing that annoyed me most about the dollmaker in question - functionality aside, by the way - was the fact that you couldn't have a topless torso. Believe it or not, a lot of dollmakers I've seen have the option of you not adding a top. In my imagination, the first thing I specified about a horsegirl was the fact that she wouldn't wear anything on top, not being a common human. And besides, male centaurs don't wear tops. If I were a centaur, I wouldn't wear anything on top. But then again, I'd have abs and much more power. And a huge cock.

I'd probably also be more attracted to my horsegirl than I already am.

Sorry, did I say that out loud?

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Soft Porn Sunday: Lisa Boyle & Begue Georges

This used to be one of my favourite sex scenes. In fact, it still is. Back in the old days, when I kept trying to give up watching soft porn, I always acquiesced and ended up downloading this one first. I'd seen it on Channel 5 and remembered liking it, although now I'm much more familiar with the film than I used to be.

Appearance: Elke [UK], aka Friend of the Family [US] (1995)
Characters: Montana & Billy

It's an odd film, Elke. The titular character, played by Shauna O'Brien, is a sexy woman who drifts into a family's life and then has lots of s
ex with various members of the family. But the main impression isn't left on the viewer by O'Brien - it's Lisa Boyle's character, Montana, whose three sex scenes in the film are the most intense, by quite a long way.

Montana is an interesting character because she is presented as a slutty, promiscuous teenager around the age of 17 - although the age isn't exactly specified, because anything under the age of 18 is probably techically illegal to portray. Boyle was probably about 27 when this was filmed, so they've gone down the Glee route of someone much older portraying a teenager. Nice to see the same old technique being used today.

Montana is first
portrayed as having a boyfriend - in fact, the film opens with them having sex in a swimming pool (all Americans have pools, apparently). However, towards the middle of the movie, Montana is single again. It is, in fact, a bildungsroman for her; towards the end of the movie, she has matured into a well-balanced individual. That doesn't mean they couldn't squeeze in another sex scene for her, however. And, hey, they didn't. Hooray.

This scene is incredibly simple - Montana and a French bloke named Billy are having some sort of a picnic. He's trying to teach her French, but not very hard, and eventually they start kissing. This leads to disrobing, which in the end leads to sex.

Believe me when I say it is intense.

It could be so cheesy. But it really isn't. It's incredibly well shot. Lisa Boyle is a terribly attractive woman, and the way the characters kiss is very hot indeed, especially at the periodic removal of their tops - Boyle's boobs are very nice, as is Georges' chest (and back). Boyle flips over onto her front for Georges to touch her back and her bum, and then she rights herself
and pulls him down on top of her. Cue immediate mix to the sex. Billy is still wearing his trousers, and Montana is still in a skirt and shoes... which is exciting, the whole "having sex in clothes" thing. This is followed by another mix to the aftermath, Billy lying on top of Montana, clearly still inside her, both characters post-orgasmically grinning at each other.

But, as arousing as the whole relative stranger, al fresco, reckless teenager, disrobing, clothes on, OMG it's Lisa Boyle thing is, the best thing about this scene is the neat little touches. Billy continuously quotes French at Montana, leading to her line, "how do you say shut up in French?". He doesn't shut up, incidentally, but you don't notice because the music builds to a very steady crescendo. And the music fits perfectly. It's in time with the rhythm of the scene and ends with a memorable musical motif which is played in every scene with Montana having sex. Theme music for sex - awesome!

Then there's the fact that, despite being underneath Billy, Montana appears in control of the whole thing. The facial expressions on Boyle's face, the way she actually pulls him on top of her, and the position her body is in when they are actually having sex - they all add up to the acknowledgement that Lisa Boyle is very, very good at doing these scenes.

I don't think I've ever seen a sex scene which is more intense than this. Any part of Elke is worth a quick look - in all fairness, it works pretty well as a movie on its own, with a pretty well-thought-put plot and decent enough acting - but this scene can't be beaten, both within its own film and in comparison to most other films of the mid-nineties, and even the ones featuring the same actress.

Quelle beauté!

Saturday, 15 January 2011

Sonorous Sleeping

So I have this recurring dream, but it's kind of odd. Odder than usual, I mean. By which I mean, it doesn't involve any sex.

If my dreams don't invovle sex, they almost always involve music. I have an innate love of musicals, specifically of the type in which people burst randomly into song at inopportune moments - such as in the modern version of The Producers, where they are aware they are singing but there's nothing weird about it, or Glee, which is centred around a show choir but involves spontaneous singing as well as actual performances. The antithesis to this is something like Cabaret, in which all the songs are staged. It is my firm belief that life would be better if people could randomly burst into song for no apparent reason and not particularly remark upon it. Even better if the songs are good.

I've been writing songs since I was very young and occasionally I have dreams in which people do randomly burst into song, á la Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, and the songs therein are very good indeed (although generally there's only one of them). This dream, which I've had twice, is such a dream.

The defining factors are thus: I am dating a member of Belle Amie. Why I'm doing this I don't know. I don't even watch The X Factor, on account of the fact that it is shit. I don't even know who the members of Belle Amie are or what they look like. But in the dream, I'm dating one of them. Well, I guess someone has to. Plus, it involves a structure which is either the shopping precinct in my local town or the place I used to work until two weeks ago. Or both. In the version of the dream I had last night it appeared to be both.

In the dream, I begin to sing a song, aided by the member of Belle Amie who I am dating. She picks it up and the other three members, who appear to be randomly hanging around standing in a straight line, sing harmony and backing vocals. The song has main lines and then chorus vocals in an echo, somewhat similar to Queen's Somebody To Love - again, in a Glee style. And it's one of the best songs I've ever written. Or heard. Or whatever.
At this point, it grows fuzzy. I can remember thinking, "right, I'm going to write this song down, and we can get Belle Amie to sing it, it will be a hit." I'm certain of it. I know that if I write the lyrics down and remember the tune, we can get a good enough girl band version down. Easy.

I can't, of course, remember the song when I wake up. I tried extremely hard to this morning. I stretched and stretched my memory but could only remember these few sketchy details and nothing else. Certainly none of the lyrics.

If I evere remember them, I'm writing them down. It will be the best thing I've ever written. But until then, the song about hentai will have to retain that title...

Friday, 14 January 2011

Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening, me!

I don't care if it's cold, wet and windy. I think storms both look and sound incredibly cool. I like the mix of colours in the sky, I like the sounds of rain pattering on concrete and windows, and I like the warm feeling you get when you're inside and there's rain outside. James have this song Sometimes, which conjures up a fantastic picture of the effects of a storm on a wide area. Very cool.

I don't really 'do' fantasies, but I'd still like to have sex in a tent while there's a rain storm outside. I was just in a realtionship for over two and a half years and still haven't done that? Ah well, we didn't go camping, I guess. Maybe it's just one of those things that happens in fantasies and never really gets done.

I'm not really going anywhere with this, I just thought I needed to point these things out.

I masturbated twice last night. I wasn't particularly horny to begin with, but I masturbated sort of mid-to-late-afternoonish. To be frank, I think I'd earned it. It's not easy to get up early in the mornings and scour the depths of the Internet for jobs, especially when most of your life has gone to shit, but that's exactly what I did yesterday morning. And I sent some applications, which is at least something. I'm not getting anywhere particularly fast, but I am trying. Don't judge me (unless it's positively, in which case, you may proceed). I felt a bit turned on, wanked, felt better. It's not pleasant, but it got the job done.

Second time was late at night. I'd been up talking on MSN to a girl I hadn't talked to for about three years, so we were sort of catching up, if discussing the music of Miley Cyrus counts at catching up. Afterwards, I lay on my back on my bed and wanked again. Why? I don't know. Greed. That's about as good a reason as I can think of. My orgasm (which took a long time to manifest itself, but it did) was kind of... hesitant. If that's a way to describe it. Pleasant, but kind of... well, not weak. But adequate. Do I masturbate too much? Not enough? Do I need to find new things to do?

My New Year's resolution was to introduce more kink. But I know soft porn works and I like it. My imagination works and I like that too. And when you're on your own, how much kink can you actually introduce when you're not much of a one for sex toys? Maybe I should add something to my resolution. Try and vary masturbation, make it a little different. Be creative; be interesting. Make it count. Make the orgasms I give myself really, uh, worthy ones. Well, it's worth a try, anyway. Can't hurt... too much.

Ah, the storm's stopped. I spent the time writing about wanking. Typical, eh?

Thursday, 13 January 2011

Third time's the charm

I work hard. I do. It's not that I need to, but I work hard. That is, if the thing I'm working on interests me - which is a problem, as people - and when I say 'people', I'm referring to my mother - would have me work on things I am not remotely interested in. So I continue to search for jobs in things that I would at least hold vague interest in. I'm managing to apply for one or two per day, which is not bad, really. Hey, it's my life. I know the focus is on my sister, as she has both a partner and a job - neither of which I have - and she's moving out soon and all. But I am attempting to prod my life forwards as well.

In addition to occasional motivation, my progress was always helped forwards by an incredible amount of luck and God's gifts to me of exceptional intelligence and a great deal of natural charm. There's not much else I can do, I'll grant you, and with a massive lack of confidence maybe the things I could do were not exactly in the right hands. But I managed to coast my way through the majority of my education buoyed by wielding what I already had with some degree of skill, only putting on the final exertions myself when I needed to, such as during A-Levels or my degree course.

But that's academia and work-work (you know, real world work... the scary kind). What about other things? Things which are extracurricular to whatever I'm meant to be doing for Life, but which are actually more important? Well, for those I have enthusiasm, but lack motivation.

A good example being making new friends. Back when I was single last time, I didn't have much of a problem. In the flesh, I've never found it easy to make friends - it always happened through circumstance. But online, no problem. People found it really easy to talk to me, due to my easy demeanour, overall goodness and the aforementioned natural charm. And the fact that I flirted, although not outrageously. But I flirted. A lot. I loved it. And in the full knowledge than I am an ILB and not likely to get anywhere, I felt safe. And I'd like to think that I made girls feel safe through the occasional light tease. This was something I was good at...

...I just don't seem to be able to do it any more.

This is a problem. I met a French girl on the internet a few days ago. She seems nice. I'm not too far out of a relationship, but she seemed a bit interested (as well as living roughly twenty minutes' walk away) so I thought, well, here's a chance to have some coffee with someone new, even if it's just as friends. Makes sense, right? And it was going quite well, what with her adding me to Facebook and a good Facebook Chat, erm, chat. And then yesterday came and...

...I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I didn't know what to say. I'd already asked her if she wanted to meet for a coffee one lunchtime, so she said she didn't know (47 says that "I don't know" is a yes in disguise, although I'm not sure). I left that in her hands and then tried to talk about something else. But I had no idea what! The weather? The landscape? Her job? Where in France she's from? Well, I'd already exhausted all these subjects, due to there not being much in either of them in addition to her short answers (due to her knowledge of English not being wondrous!).

I used to be able to talk for hours about nothing at all while keeping people interested! Where did that ability go?!

47 came over the other day. H is back in town, apparently, and I need to catch up with Mini. But I really do need something else to occupy my time with. Something to look forward, apart from Glee.

Flirting used to bridge that gap.

Why can't I do it any more?

Welcome back to singledom, ILB. Now work hard, or you just won't get anywhere.

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Why I am better than you

"I want to read your blog," my hairy friend said in the pub last night. Hairy Friend was, of course, not talking to me, but to the young raver, most likely because I had just been continually asking him when he was going to propose to his American girlfriend, and he wanted to divert the topic of conversation to something else. The young raver just happened to be opposite at the time and he seemed as likely a topic as any.

The young raver doesn't have a blog. It turns out that Hairy Friend (and Mane, and Robinson, and my sister and everyone else in our group) was referring to his abortive attempt to start a website, which only lasted as long as creating one page and then giving up. (That's nothing, mate - I've got eight. Websites, that is, not pages.) It apparently looked like the frontend to a blog, too, hence the taunt.

"Pshaw," I said to myself, very quietly. "What you want to be reading is my blog."

Because my blog is devastatingly witty and full of intelligent repartée. As an example, here is a picture which I found on the Internet, which is guaranteed to make you laugh out loud.

What a laugh, eh, guys?

Tuesday, 11 January 2011


Don't tell Mum this.
Tell her what?
You know I mentioned that I write a second blog?
Well, I mention sex in it.
You're over eighteen, of course you're allowed to mention sex. You mention it in your LiveJournal.
Well, yes, but this is a blog about... relationships. Love and relationships. You know, and occasionally I mention sex. I mean, it's not about sex, it's not a sex blog [I am a liar!], but I enjoy writing about relationships. And love, and occasionally sex. I mean, that's okay, isn't it? It's just that... hundreds of people read this blog every week [true; the Blogger stats page says so], but it's anonymous because I don't want people to know who I am if it's my personal thoughts about relationships and romance.
And sex?
And sex. But it's not about sex, it just crops up.
It's just that... well... Mum keeps saying that I'm not writing, but I am. I write a lot.

I'm not sure I should have said all that. I may have covered it up well, though. Plus, he's 61. Maybe he'll forget about it soon.

Sunday, 9 January 2011

Soft Porn Sunday: Jeanne Colletin & Daniel Sarky

Although I am more familiar with the more recent Emmanuelle films starring Krista Allen in the title role (and, to an extent, the ones that came after that starring Marcela Walerstein), there's no doubt that the original films were the precipitator of most soft porn to come afterwards - in fact, they spawned a score of imitators. In the '70s, Emmanuelle was French - none of this American stuff we see in later films - and played by the rather delightful Sylvia Kristel. In honour of certain people I've been conversing with recently, herewith a French scene.

Emmanuelle (1974)
Characters: Jean & Ariane

This scene doesn't actua
lly feature Emmanuelle (sorry about that) - I always found her scenes a bit dull. It's a quickie featuring her husband Jean, and an older lady named Ariane, played by Jeanne Colletin, who clearly relishes her role. Jean and Ariane have been at her place, having some sort of conversation (sorry, my memory escapes me), guardedly. It's clear that it's not going well, and it ends abruptly, followed by Ariane sweeping aside her dress to indicate she's not wearing any underwear. Those crazy French!

"Voila, est-ce que tu s'attendé?" she asks. Doesn't take a genius to work out what that means.
"Bitch!" answers Jean, athough to my knowledge that should be, "Chienne!". Despite clearly not being too fond of Ariane, he then walks purposely towards her, lifts her onto the table that's conveniently placed behind her, and has quick, quite brutal sex with her. Well, she was offering...

I like this scene because of everything in it. The chemistry between Colletin and Sarky is evident on screen (something that's not seen in a lot of softcore), and even though it's not exactly believable, the hate!sex element works pretty well too. They're having sex - why? Because they can!
The brevity of this scene necessitates lots of thought for it to work in terms of arousal, and yet there's a lot packed into the 53 seconds. Jean's heavy breathing at the very beginning and Ariane's passionate, uncontrollable moans of pleasure give credence to the intensity of the sex, the movements are jerky and sudden (rather than fluid and orchestrated), the use of the table is a very nice touch, and it all just works. It makes you believe in the sex absolutely. And isn't that what it's all about?

Oh, and they're clothed... which makes this exciting, apparently.

The music is a little odd - but it works for the scene, building up as the sex does. And as soon as it starts, it's all over. Do Jean and Ariane pay for their indiscretion? No, of course not. But that's all part of this magnificent film... and with sex scenes like this, who needs any more time?

Saturday, 8 January 2011


April may be the cruellest month, but January is probably second in the running to that title, being as it is the most depressing, the only thing on the horizon to be considered not cruel is series 2 of Glee, starting on Monday. And yet Glee also makes me sad, because I see people of my age both able to pull off playing people ten years younger, as well as sing, dance and act... all of which I want to do, none of which I am able to. What I am able to do is blog, which is what Jacob does. And yet he is in an American high school student and I am 25 and unemployed.

Single and unemployed. I haven't been that since the age of 17. I'm convinced that one has precipitated the other. Anyway.

So I went to a CCK social last night where, it seemed, everyone had picked up whatever I've got. Seasonal affective disorder, post-Christmas letdown, plain bad luck... people were miserable, unfortunate, or just tired. I had a good time chatting to new CCK recruits Katie and Lone Wolf, but like other people, I'd had enough by about 9pm and left the building, like a less stylish version of Elvis.

Dragged myself home and logged onto the internet, where a random girl in a chatroom consoled me. Fear not, that is all she did. But it was nice to talk to a stranger about problems which don't concern her and actully feel genuine sympathy. Nice people really do exist sometimes. Yet eventually fatigue and general grumpiness forced me to bed, wherein I couldn't sleep, let alone rest, because something was making scratchy noises in my room and for a while I thought we had a ghost. (It turned out to be a roll of wrapping paper sliding against the wall; being alone in bed can be highly affecting.)

I masturbated for the first time in ages, using mt imagination as the tool. It took me a long time to feel relaxed enough to do so. When I climaxed, I felt all the tension, pain and anxiety leave my body. The orgasm lasted for quite a long time, as well. Quite a lot of semen. I rode it out in silence and lay there feeling sufficiently calmed down.

And thus ends my week.

I don't have any plans for this weekend. It's likely that I'll be on MSN at various points. Come and talk to me if you are; I promise I'm not this depressing on MSN (usually). Suggestions for a job are also welcome... but who am I to ask that? I had a dream last night in which my uncle, who is an actor, wanted to cast me in a play because I speek 1337. Now that's a job.

Friday, 7 January 2011

Low Low Low

Last night I went to a meeting of slightly kinky and/or alternative Christians called Spiritual Space. James was the only person I knew there, and I'd only met him briefly at the last CCK social I attended, in November. But, adhering to my "more kink, more links" I tried to adopt at the beginning of the year, I thought I'd go along anyway. I arrived just before James and, after brief discussion, I told him that I've recently lost both girlfriend and job, and hopefully a meeting with some like-minded Christians would help me to feel a little calmer.

It worked, to a certain extent. I certainly got along with everyone who turned up (6 of us in total, I believe) and, after discussion, reflection and food, I certainly felt calm, even on the journey home. Whether or not it was the people or the concept or the fact that I managed to escape from my house for a while I'm not sure, but I had an OK time, and considering the state of my mind at this point, OK is about as good as I'm going to get. So thanks for that, God.

TD just turned up to get her stuff. She came up to my room and collected her dresses (I'd forgotten about the dresses, but I'd packed everything else in bags - 5, which she distilled down to 3). We hugged, we kissed, and then we went back downstairs to re-pack the bags. N stood in the hallway, looking a little lost; out came the bags and then TD and N tried to make a decision about who would carry the heaviest. (N won.) I hugged N, I hugged TD, and then they left. I watched their retreating backs until they vanished from sight.

It's one of the most painful experiences of my life. So far, anyway. While I'm still single and unemployed, you could give me pancreatitis or something and beat my record. But, y'know, don't.

Tonight there is another CCK social, which I am going to attend, for the first time as a single man. Here's hoping that it brings me up to "OK" level again. Well, a man can dream.

Thursday, 6 January 2011

Family Guy

I was slowly descending the stairs yesterday when I heard the unmistakeable tones of my maternal grandmother wafting along the cold air currents towards me. I only heard the end of a conversational line, but it didn't take a genius to guess what the subject of discussion as. (As I actually am a genius, I was thinking about multiple things at the same time.)

Nanna: "... very good at ... do you think he ... be there?"
Dad: "that was ... time ago ... likely ..."

I padded to the bottom of the stairs and swung around the end of the bannister like a less agile version of Donkey Kong.

"My ears are burning," I said.

Both parents in addition to Nanna turned around to look at me, astounded - as ever - to find someone else present in their house. They were congregating in the hall, so I walked forwards, towards the kitchen.

"We were just talking about you," said Nanna.
"So I gather," I replied, waiting for the response.
"In a good way," she explained. Then, without waiting for a reply, she launched into a spiel about how I still don't have a job and it's a crying shame and all the employers are idiots for not hiring me and maybe the course I took was not for me and blah blah blah la de da de da et cetera et cetera de brou-ha-ha. My ears kind of tuned out. But I know she finished her soliloquy with something like, "...but you're really good. You've had a good year."
Much as I appreciated the sentiment, that was nothing short of a lie.
"No, I haven't!" I objected. "In the space of a few months, I've managed to lose my course, my job, my grandfather and my girlfriend!"
"Well, losing your girlfriend's no big loss."

Did she just say that?

I glared at her. How dare she?

"Wasn't that what you wanted?"


"I thought it was what you wanted!"


"You said it in a flippant way!"
"I say everything in a flippant way. And besides, I wasn't being flippant, I was being emotional."



I was unable to speak. I turned and proceeded into the kitchen.

Dad came into my room a couple of hours later.
"Just to confirm... TD is coming here on Friday, with N, to pick up her things, is that correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Listen, I told Mum about this, and she wanted me to ask you if you were all right with that happening?"
"Well, it's not like I have a choice, they're her things. But nevertheless, I'm OK with it. But I'd appreciate it if you were not particularly conspicuous while she's around. It won't be easy by any means."
"Of course. I'll sit in the back room and read my book. No problems there."
"Okay, thanks."

He was on his way out of the door when he turned back.

"Maybe you can invite Nanna round, though."
"Well, she can make such tactful comments."

He grinned. I attempted a grin back. I may have succeeded.

"Thanks, Dad."

Wednesday, 5 January 2011


While I very much enjoy watching from the sidelines, sometimes I almost reveal that I know too much.

I had a driving lesson today. It went fairly well. I drove around the block a few times, stopped and talked to the driving instructor. I stated that I had been learning to drive but had taken a six-year break, doing little things like going to university. Twice.

"Do you know what MSM stands for?" she said.
Men who have sex with men.
"MSM?" I repeated.
It's a commonly-used abbreviation.
"Take a guess."
One of my gay friends taught me it, and according to Ben Schott, it's used a lot in the medical world.
"Men who..."
"Men? No, it's mirror, signal, maneovure."
Right, so try not to think about gay men while driving.
"Oh, gay! I mean, okay!"

I hope that there isn't an acronym like BBW or SWF that comes up at any point.

Although, now I think about it, SWF is also a shockwave file...

Sunday, 2 January 2011

Soft Porn Sunday: Janet Tracy Keijser & Anthony Auriemma

No, I've no idea how to pronounce "Auriemma" either.

Appearance: Passion Cove, Series 1: "Discreet Affair"
Characters: Trisha & Baker

I wasn't planning to do another Passion Cove. But then again, I wasn't planning to do SPS today, on account of the fact I've just been dumped. This was a spur-of-the-moment decision and it's the first filename I saw when I put one of my soft porn CDs into my netbook's removable CD drive. So sue me.

The plot of this one's pretty routine, although it offers up some juicy prospects: Trisha and Baker (seriously, Baker?! Really? They couldn't think of a better name than "Baker"? What, did they just open a dictionary and pick a random word?!) meet once a year at Passion Cove to have sex, despite who they are dating at the time. That's about it. And to be fair, the sex they have is very hot. It happens within the first two minutes o
f the show, while the production credits are still rolling.

The scene I've chosen happens towards the end of the episode. It's an odd scene insofar as it starts with Baker (I know, right?) and Trisha rolling about on a table and they start indulging in flagrante delicto. They end up in the cowgirl position, which Trisha seems to be enjoying a little too much, before Baker stops her and they enter a short conversation. They have, in fact, fallen in love and Baker wants to make sure Trisha will tell her boyfriend that it's over between them.

Actually, I can't think of a superlative to describe how horrible a way that is to break up with someone.

Anyway, then Trisha assures him that she will, and then says, "just let me finish", and proceeds to... finish. And that's the end of the scene.

I like this scene because of the enthusiasm that Keijser is putting into her performance. it can't be easy to play a slutty slutty slut and still manage to look like you're having a good time while bouncing up and down on a guy with a ridiculous name on top of a hard table. But she's an attractive enough lady to pull it off and a capable enough actress to make you believe she's enjoying it enough, especially in the post-"just let me finish..." bit, where the expression on her face and the almost desperate urgency of her riding is something approaching a masterclass in how to do softcore.

There's nothing else that's special about this. You hardly get to see much of Baker at all and the cinematography is unremarkable. The music's OK though, it kind of works in time with the sex, which helps. All in all, it's a very hot scene, but it's helped by the fact that it's short enough for it to finish before you realise that:

a) Trisha is being a horrible girlfriend
b) Baker is perhaps the worst name to give anyone, ever, ever

But hey, it makes me come... so that's fine by me.

Abort, Retry, Fail?

Can somebody lend me the power of Shazam?

When Freddy Freeman (formerly Billy Batson, but Billy has since been depowered) invokes the name of the wizard Shazam, he becomes the superhero Captain Marvel (formerly Captain Marvel, Jr.; now upgraded), with the powers of the gods Solomon, Hercules, Achilles, Zeus, Apollo (formerly Atlas) and Mercury. With one simple word, Freddy can take off into the sky.

My two-and-over-a-half-year relationship ended last night. It wasn't much fun.

I'd like to make a few things clear before I go any further.
(i) The reason is too complicated. I kind of understand it, but I don't think I'll ever fully understand the reasoning behind it. I don't like not getting closure, but there's no option of that, really.
(ii) To use the most analogy I've ever used, I was asked to leave the band. This was not a mutual decision; my contract was terminated. I didn't have a choice in the matter.
(iii) Yes, I cried.

I cried a lot. Specifically on the train on the way back to London. And once into her chest in her lounge. Saying goodbye to her brother was heart-wrenching, her dad was sad, her mother was bitter. Saying goodbye to her was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. And yet I had to. I was dumped, after all.

The saddest part was being sat in her lounge on my own, thinking. Submerged in the half-darkness, I was totally lost. I couldn't stay there, but I didn't want to go home. I didn't know where I wanted to go.

"Shazam," I whispered. Waiting for the bolt of lightning to transform me into Captain Marvel. Or at least a version of the same - perhaps in green, the only variant of the Marvel costume that hasn't been used. With the power of Shazam, I wouldn't need to do either. I could go up. I could go sideways. I could go anywhere. Take out my sadness and shock on criminals and villains. I didn't need to sit and dwell. But, of course, it didn't happen.

So I sat there and remained lost. Constantly whispering the word that gave me more false hope as my life came grinding to a halt.

Shazam... shazam... shazam...

Saturday, 1 January 2011


So. 2011 is here and so far it's been pretty unremarkable. Ah, well.

I've made some resolutions. As always, I don't intend to keep them, so that if they do happen, it will be a nice surprise. There are some customary boring ones that almost certainly won't happen - things like "get a more permanent job" and "learn to drive" - but I've also decided to add "be more interesting sexually", or something to that effect. Not that my sex life is in any way boring - which it isn't, it's very healthy - but I'm becoming a lot more curious in my old age (I'm 26 in a couple of months, good lord!) and I'd like to explore a bit - more intriguing for me, but more entertaining, I'd hope, for not only me, but for TD, and of course my audience (that's you... except I'd prefer to think of you as my friends, if that's all right!)

So, here's what I intend to do at some points (dates of points unspecified):
- More kink. I'm still quite vanilla and, although I like no-frills sex, it could be quite fun to experiment with a few things. Frills, for example. Try light bondage again, try costumes, roleplay, spanking... see what works and what doesn't. Experiment.
- Use more of the stuff in the bag of sex things under my bed. Play with buzzing things and lubes that Durex sent me. Try it all out and see what works.
- Sex in more exotic places. Go on holiday. Have sex outside (still really want to do that). Learn to drive and have sex in the car. Be naughty, First Of May-stylée.
- Get involved with the creation of erotica on some level. Write some erotica, write some music for soft porn, be present at a shoot (a friend of mine did this and even appeared in a porn film, although not as a sex part), write a script. Improve my knowledge of the adult industry and use it to appear intelligent and sexually liberated.
- Strengthen links with the sex blogger community and do the same with the London kink community. Send e-mails. Go on MSN more often, chat to people on Twitter, leave more comments on blogs. Keep going to the CCK meetups. Go to things I'm invited to, meet new people with the same interests. If you work out how to do this, let me know.
- Blog more often! I love this blog, but of late I've seemed to be a bit lax in its usage. Express myself more via the medium of electronic words! Get working again with sexual desire, recollections, things spied out and about, and humour!

So there you have it. I hope you'll all support me through this journey that I'm probably not going to advance much upon. But wouldn't it be fun if I actually did some of this stuff?

Happy, sexy new year, everyone!