Monday, 31 October 2011

Ten Things I Hate About You

I don't have much to say about Hallowe'en, except:

1. There's an apostrophe in it. It's an abbreviation of "All Hallow's Eve."
2. It falls around the same time (occasionally the same day) as the Gaelic harvest festival Samhain, and therefore should be celebrated as religious observance by neo-pagans.
3. It precedes the important Christian festival of All Souls' Day, in which the faithful dead and canonised are remembered and (in Catholic tradition) prayed for and to (in the case of the saints). I may say a prayer at midnight, if I am awake then.
4. Conversely, anti-theists who proclaim that any belief in a religion is wrong should have no part in Hallowe'en, and should not acknowledge its existence!
5. The month of October is not Hallowe'en. October 31 is Hallowe'en. If you must celebrate, at least do it as close to the date as you can get. I'm specifically talking to you, children playing trick-or-treat three weeks ago in the town centre.
6. Trick-or-treat is not an acceptable way to celebrate this festival. It's a commercial custom mostly stemming from the USA, and is in fact disrespectful to all to have a right to celebrate this day.
7. There's nothing in the original doctrine that refers to ghosts, spirits or especially devils, demons or witches. The faithful departed are in Heaven and therefore wouldn't be ghosts. Modern witches who celebrate Samhain should not be depicted as having green skin, long black hair and flying on Nimbus Two Thousands.
8. Something to do with sex should go here, but I can't think of anything offhand.

And two bonus geek facts...

9. Cliff Barry, who played the villain Lissard in Knightmare, married his wife Juliet on Hallowe'en. His best man was Mark Knight, who also played a villain - Lissard's master, Lord Fear!
10. The final Knightmare book, Lord Fear's Domain, is set on Hallowe'en.

TL;DR? Short version: Have fun on this day, as you would on any other day. Just don't be an idiot.

Sunday, 30 October 2011

Soft Porn Sunday: Shannan Leigh & Mike Roman

This one is an absolute classic. The scene, that is, not the film. Although the film's good too.

Okay, it is dumb. It's really, really dumb. The premise is as follows: Andromina, "the Pleasure Planet", has fallen on hard times, so they send three men to a planet (whose name escapes me, but that doesn't matter since it's all filmed on Earth anyway) which is entirely populated by women - their aim? To recruit new ladies to work as dancers/strippers. Hmmm, yes. Sexist much?

And besides, a planet entirely populated by women? How do they breed? One of the women (Alexa, played by Flower Edwards) vaguely mentions something about sperm packets being delivered... but then how did they do this in their primitive days? And what do they do with boy children? Leave them to die or something? Explain, movie! Explain!

Not that that matters, either. They're three rather sleazy men in any case. And naturally, they get captured by three separate groups of women and subsequently have LOTS OF SEX.

So here's the run-down... Jeeter (John Matrix, who has far too many muscles for a man of his build - should actua
lly be playing the Hulk or something) is found by Roxie (Shyra Deland), who promptly makes him king of her tribe, which is a clear riff on the idea of "savage peoples" (racist much?). Cody (Eric Stratton) is zapped repeatedly by Alexa, who takes him to her ULTRA HIGH-TECH TOP-SECURITY IMPRISONMENT SYSTEM where - get this - she binds him to the wall (BDSM much?) for no reason whatsoever. And as for the third man? This happens.

Appearance: Andromina - The Pleasure Planet (1999)
Characters: Becca & Omar

S
hannan Leigh is back, and her boobs are bigger than ever. Or maybe it's the fact that she's wearing basically nothing. Whatever the reason, she is a thinly-veiled reference to all Amazon women, and her particular subsection of the planet (must be a small planet) has captured possibly the sleaziest of the men on the landing party. Since he is a man, they are NOT BEST PLEASED. So they do the only rational and humane thing... tie him to a stake and leave him there for a while before they burn him. What nice people they are.

And so we have Omar languishing against the stake with his horny, busty guard Becca (Leigh, once more doing the evil-but-dominant-but-actually-not thing that they typecast her to do) walking about wearing precious little. Omar (who I've just realised is wearing far too much hair gel to make his predicament at all convincing) is clearly a bit slow, because hours after being tied to a pyre, he suddenly decides to ask Becca if she might consider letting him go free? Perhaps, maybe? I don't know about you, but I'd probably ask immediately. He got the words out eventually, I guess.

"Take off your shirt," is her characteristic reply. He does so, without any amount of hesitation. I think you can see where this is going.

So, after an almost indecent amount of kissing with incredible enthusiasm and throwing each other's bodies around
a bit, Becca starts taking her clothes off (although that really doesn't make a lot of difference), accompanied by music which can't decide whether it's Australian, Egyptian or 80s synthpop. It taken her a while to disrobe, and then she... whips Omar with her clothes incredibly gently? What's the point of that - tickle torture?!

However, finally (over three minutes in!) they end up getting down to it... by which I mean, of course, using the stake as a prop. I think most of the budget must have gone on this, as it manages to hold most of Becca's weight as she stands on one leg and lets Omar eat her out. Once again, it's the expressions Shannan Leigh manages to work on her face which makes this bit work... otherwise I'd be wondering exactly how she's running her fingers through his hair without wanting to reach for the alcohol gel. Mind you, it does work, and then they change positions, her administering oral sex and him... looking as if he's in an incredible amount of pain. Acting the male orgasm never works.

They 'accidentally' tumble to the floor, anyway, and by the time five minutes and two seconds of the scene has passed, they're finally having sex, both apparently having gained the ability to have incredibly energetic sexual intercourse almost immediately following orgasm for both parties. Well, if it works, I guess...

The sex comes in two stages. First, it's doggie style on the floor, with her on all fours and him behind grinding away, mostly shot from the same angle. This doesn't last for very long before it mixes to what really makes the scene for me - doggie style again, only this time standing up, with her holding onto the stake for support. Much better! The orchestra seem to agree, as somebody starts playing an electric guitar - because that really fits in with an Amazonian tribal village theme - while some male voices offscreen make their opinion heard by shouting something that sounds like, "choom cha ta ka ta ka choom cha ta ka ta ka choom cha ta ka cha ka ta cha ka ta cha ka." Insightful.

It's this last bit that's the bit I watch, really. It's not a bad scene at all, but the rest is a bit uninspiring. There's a bit
of slapping and that's not my thing, but it's quite minimal and the main focus is on the movement of the bodies, which they've managed to sync up with the music quite well. Omar's holding onto Becca's sides a lot, which gives a good impression of both support and skin-to-skin contact, and he's clearly making a go of things - it's meant to be energetic, lustful sex, and that's what it is. It's maybe a little too energetic and lustful for the length of the scene, as it's a long scene and this kind of sex loses its impact over time, but if you just took this last couple of minutes, it'd make for a really good scene.

And they're trying hard, actually. I mean, the music is a bit incongruous, but it's not a bad piece of music, and it
works. The set is actually pretty fantastic for the limited resources they must have had (actual burning torches, rocks, twigs, fence, huts), and it's only really used for this scene, but a bit of thought must have gone into it. And it makes me horny, which is the main thing, really. The final few seconds, where the male orgasm is actually done well enough (it's less "didn't get picked for the football team face", more "thrust the pelvis forwards, can I get a hell yeah?") before Becca spinning around to kiss him, are perhaps among the best ways to end a sex scene I've seen. So, all in all, this is a good one.

It's still a spectacularly illogical premise for a film, but with sex scenes of this quality... who cares?

Saturday, 29 October 2011

Weak load

No, wait, come back! It's really interesting, honestly! Even if you're not in the least interested about what happens to be coming out of my penis, you should at least read this post! It's the first one I've written for days! Thanks.

I've been cumming less recently. I mean, yes, there have been some days wherein I haven't really tried. My second day at college was characterised mostly by a desire to sleep, ergo: going to bed at the ungodly early hour of 9pm. And the amount of work that's been foisted upon us is unreal - I swear to Glod that last time I was in full-time education, we didn't get anything to do for weeks. And suddenly, this happens. Yeah, it's even kind of fun. Keeps my hands busy, anyway, and that means they're often too busy to close around my engorged cock and deliver me some sweet release. But then again, I'm not really thinking about doing so when I'm focused on the finer points of whatever the fuck it is I'm meant to be doing.

I'm still not even sure what that is. I'm just doing it... somehow.

I've not been horny any less either. I mean, sometimes I've been positively craving it, even when sitting in an observation at college, visualising - apropos of nothing - the idea of a penis sliding into a warm, wet vagina ad feeling its inner walls mould themselves around its shape. Remembering the feeling of that too, and revelling in it. Yeah, I've been doing that. I haven't, of course, been nipping off to the toilets for a quick one; I just don't have the time. If anything, the combination of lack of days in which to relieve myself of this burden of lust, the amount of work that I'm doing in which I haven't mentioned sex even once, the realisation that I won't be seeing any pretty ladies for a while and the fact that I'm still reading short bursts of Fanny Hill before bed... it all adds up to something between frustration and amusement.

And yet when I do masturbate, I cum less.

It's only the cum. My orgasms are the same in terms of intensity and length. They're not dry orgasms either - because there is semen. Of course there is. It's just that I used to produce... well... quite a lot. And now there isn't that much. There's a bit, but not as much. It's no less pleasurable, but it is weird. I wonder if that's meant to happen.

I'm saving on tissues in any case.

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

TMI Tuesday: Random... truly random

This will have to do. I'm tired and a bit grumpy and college is wearing me out after a mere two days. So this takes the place of a real post for now.

1. Name 5 things you did more of before social networking (Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, etc.).

- Internet fora
- IRC
- ICQ
- E-mail
- MSN

Social networking came in when I was just leaving secondary school. Faceparty appeared for a while when I was in the Upper Sixth, and for a moment, everyone started using it, replacing personal homepages with social networking. Friendster came along a bit later, but I don't think that really took off too much. It basically killed all other forms of Internet communication, though; some fora and chatrooms still run, while IM programs still operate, but they are rarely used in comparison to something like Twitter, the most valuable communication tool I know.

I genuinely do miss the days wherein you could send an actual physical e-mail to a computer games company and it would be answered by a genuine interesting person. But that was also back in the days wherein they came in those beautiful large boxes. Ahhhh.


2. Your house is on fire, what do you grab as you run out?

Probably my computer. No, actually, definitely my computer. With Oxford riding on it. I'd also probably grab a dressing gown too as I'd probably be naked or something.


3. Are you a morning person or a night owl?

I am a night owl, when it comes to most things, although that's most probably due to debilitating insomnia forcing me to be a night owl. I'm a morning person when it comes to writing essays though, as with warm pyjamas, hot chocolate and a croissant with apricot jam, essay writing really doesn't seem too bad at all.

a. What time did you go to bed last night?
11pm. It was too late for me to go to bed, but it was in fact my usual bedtime. I shouldn't do that tonight, though.

b. What time did you wake up today?
I'm not sure. I didn't get much sleep and the amount of sleep I did get kept being interrupted by things. I was awake when my alarm went off at 7, but I'm assuming I was awake from about 5ish. I was absolutely shattered when I went into college this morning and wasn't even sure if I'd make it through the day. Fortunately, I did.


4. A kid comes up to you and kicks you in the shin, what do you do?

Curl up on the floor and cry, probably. I don't do well with pain.


5. What three things do you never leave the house without?

I can't think of three. If I'm taking my bag with me, it's my keys (as they're in my bag and they never leave) and my bag. And whatever's in it. It I'm not taking my bag, then there's no guarantee it will be anything. I usually travel light and take with me what I need, so often it's just my wallet, or my 'phone, or my iPod. It's been all three on occasion and on those occasions my trousers have the knack for falling down due to the weight in my pockets.

Back when I was 17 and 18, I used to travel to Birmingham pretty much every weekend or so. I took with me a little black box you used to put 7" singles in. This carried wallet, phone, keys, one change of clothes, CD player, earphones, coach tickets and a selection of a few CDs, and was perfectly adequate. 7"2 is a lot of space when you think about it.

I take my bag to college. Apart from books and folders and stuff, it's got my wallet, BlackBerry, keys, iPod and red headphones, student ID card and season Travelcard in it. I think that's all I need, really. Oh, and lunch.


Bonus: Name a place that you visited last week that you’ve never visited before. Briefly tell us about the visit.

Coco de Mer. I'm really not that much of an expert in sex shops, but a week and a day ago I visited Coco de Mer nevertheless, for the purposes of review! I was struck by actually how high-class it appeared in comparison to most of the seedy ones under Soho. I've still never bought anything from a sex shop though, and never intend to. Not even if it looks as nice as this one.

Monday, 24 October 2011

First Day

"I love the rainforest!" beamed the most alternative of my fellow students today. "I can't wait to go back there!" She shivered in the chilly London afternoon air, but kept beaming.
"I've never been," I responded, "but I've got a friend who went..." [Out of interest, I believe said friend has read this blog. Only this post, but nevertheless.] "...and she loved it. Sleeping in tents, poisonous snakes, using a machete to..."
"Bushwhacking!" cried my fellow student, getting more and more animated as she went along. "When there's no beaten track! Yes, I love that too!"
"She also told me she'd had sexual relations with a medical student up against a tree," I pointed out. "But I wanted to know more about the wonders of the rainforest, not the size of the medical student's..."
"Well, there are plenty of trees to have sex up against in the rainforest," optioned my fellow student.
"True, but there are plenty in Britain too," I said without thinking. "You'd just be in public view."
"And get arrested," she said.
"Indeed."

There was a pause, during which she shivered again.

"It's still cold."
"It is."

Sunday, 23 October 2011

And Thus, It Begins...

As some of you may be aware, I am re-entering full-time education from tomorrow morning. It's not exactly for a long time (unless you count four weeks as long), but yes, I am becoming a student for the third time.

Third. Time.

Anyway, last time I went back into full-time education, I wrote less posts. Not much less, I'll grant you, but 146 in 2010 compared to 177 in 2008... is shocking. There are worse things, like the war in Iraq, the Conservative Party, the young raver's hair colour and the state of disarray the idiots who organised my second course left it in... but still, shocking. By my mediocre standards, anyway.

Don't panic. Dry your tears. I still plan to post, and I plan to post with as much regularity as I can afford myself. The only problem is, I don't know exactly how regular that will be. My tutor's rhetoric at my interview sounded like the bastard child of Dante and Nostradamus predicting the Aztec apocalypse of 2012. On crack. His inference, and although this is unverified but I'll take it as gospel for now, is that I won't have time for anything over the next month. Although I think he means I won't have time to go to a wedding in Dublin or something - I'm not sure sex blogging counts. (I am, of course, going to see James. But that's another matter.)

So what I'm trying to say, effectively, is: if I don't blog for a while, don't panic. I've just been overwhelmed. (Because that's the sort of thing I could totally cope with right now. Sigh.) If I don't blog within the next four weeks, however, you have every right to assume I have died during the course of the course. But don't worry - if I cross over to the other side I'll get Jake to resurrect me.

Catch you on the flip side, Earth.

Friday, 21 October 2011

ILB's Place

I've had a few requests to recount the dream I reportedly had the other night, that I've mentioned a few times on Twitter. Unlike my other dreams I've talked about on here, this one doesn't really contain any sex, but it does contain some sex bloggers (in fact, all of them). Sorry if I was misleading! Anyway, here's the basic plot.

The dream took place in two parts. In the first, I was digging my own underground home or tunnel system, which looked and sounded very much like Spencer's Place from Final Fantasy: Mystic Quest (if you haven't played this, and like RPGs, do. It's easy, short and a lot more fun than many other RPGs). I think the music was playing in the background, although in my dream (yeah, I know, my dreams have soundtracks) it sounded like a cross between the actual music from FFMQ and the track "In a Snow-Bound Land" from Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy's Kong Quest. But I digress.

Spencer's Place (if you'll look at the map) has a lot of bridges, which (if you'll look at the map) are safe passages over waterfalls. They also don't appear (if you'll look at the map) to have any sides. In my dream, the bridges didn't have sides, and therefore the first blogger to appear in my dream, perhaps unsurprisingly being Catharine, was rather reluctant to walk across a rickety rope bridge with no visual means of support above a cascading waterfall.

Yeah, makes sense.

At which point, EVERYONE I KNOW suddenly appeared at the entrance, and each person stood in a long line on the first rope bridge, causing the planks to turn all sorts of rainbow colours, and make tinkly noises - as if they were all keys on my beloved toy glockenspiel. (Yes, really.) This... somehow... made the bridges more solid, and allowed everyone to cross.

I dug a little deeper into my tunnel and broke through onto a disused platform on the London Underground. We crowded out and someone (Robinson, I think) flicked a switch which reactivated the station. A tube train stopped there and we got on. Upon getting off at King's Cross, I noticed that our station (I can't remember its name, regretfully) had been somehow added to the list of Tube stations that the line (Piccadilly, I think) was serving. It had clearly been stuck on my LU staff during the short amount of time that we'd been travelling from it. They don't miss a trick, those guys.

We then realised that we didn't have Beau with us, and that John (bless him) was missing her, so we went to get her - from a rather scummy block of apartments somewhere in London where, apparently, she was (even though she didn't live there). I was head of the pack. This was the second part of the dream - we stood around waiting for her to emerge, although none of us wanted to go in. We all said, "Mia!" loudly, and she emerged. She was hoisted onto some shoulders, and everyone crowd-surfed her away. I followed... and that was the end of the dream.

No, it doesn't mean anything, as far as I'm aware. But it's quite fun to have a dream that mixes IRL friends, sex bloggers and geekery all together into one big sequence of events. I hope to meet some of you lot in a dreamscape again very soon.

Thursday, 20 October 2011

HNT: notSpanker

This is the side of my body.

That's a genuine spank, honest. Some nefarious people will tell you that it was an unexpected handprint - that it was actually the result of several hours of cuddling under the covers of @notCatharine's bed, her hand pressed against my thigh, and that this was the resulting mark that faded after a few minutes.

But that's not cool in the sex blogger world. What is cool is being hurt. So this is the mark of a genuine spank. Honest, guv! Can I be popular now, please?

Saturday, 15 October 2011

Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

I've made a list of things to do! I'm turning into a middle-aged woman!

In my defense, to be honest I've suddenly been burdened with a hell of a lot of stuff to do at the same time - some pleasant, some not so much - and (although most of this comes as a result of things I have genuinely decided I have to do) the upshot of being unavailable during the week (again due to a combination of pleasant and unpleasant things) has revealed itself to be stressful enough to keep me up at night. I lie awake plagued by the memory of the worst times in my life, like when the mouse pointer moved left instead of right, and that day I realised there was a small tear in the protective screen of my new mobile.

And the only way to combat this is to actually get all the things done. For those of you who were actually sensitive enough to read all the entries here that don't mention sex and are actually wondering in which direction my life is going, I am about to re-enter education. It's for, like, a month, so I'm not going to be attempting to add a third university degree to my belt (honest!), but this starts in a week and two days, and therefore I have five working days to get all this stuff finished.

So. Make a list.

Incredible that it is that a list of things to do seems to get longer and longer as you cross bits off - especially as you end up adding more things - there is a definite amount of catharsis in scrubbing bits out ("Great! I actually managed to send that two-sentence e-mail to that Chinese boy I tutor! Back to Super Mario World!"). It's just difficult to actually get enthusiastic about any of it. Specifically when I'm stopped doing stuff because the place I'm heading for is closed and nobody bothered to tell me. I hate leaving stuff unchecked!

The main problem I have, however, is that my netbook - which is to all intents and purposes my primary computer - is currently being held by the people at the local PC shop. Why? Because some of the keys don't work, or - as I'd be saying if I were typing this on my netbook, because sme f the keys dn't wrk. My old laptop - originally called "Jim" but now "old faithful" - has been a temporary saving grace, but he doesn't have a working I key, forcing me to use creative copy-and-paste or find-and-replace to type that important vowel. (You may have noticed me on Twitter or MSN using lower-case Is. I'm not lazy, just disadvantaged as the result of a hoover being in the wrong place.) I've managed to get him back onto the Internet without too much trouble, but nevertheless, I would feel much more comfortable about working towards both a social and academic end if I had a fully functioning machine.

Yes, I don't have any money and I'm seriously gaining weight right now, but both computers are slightly broken and that's what's important right now. Geek love.

However... having said all that, there's always a saving grace. And my "thing to do" for Tuesday - weight, money, computer and outstanding work to do all irrelevant as soon as it starts - is "go to Leeds and see cutieloveheartgirl". Now that's a task I can seriously cope with.

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Best interests at heart

When it comes to things to do, I am sometimes easily swayed, and yet sometimes not. My mother, as an example, is one of the people that takes it upon themselves to make all my decisions for me. As of today, my sister no longer lives in our house, and therefore I can foresee more upcoming decision-making on my behalf by her. She does, of course, run it past me first, but only in a perfunctory manner; the assumption being that when she makes a suggestion, I will follow it to the very letter. This does not bode well for me, the fact of the matter remaining that all I've done which could be (loosely) termed as successful throughout time has been as a result of ideas I've had myself.

It doesn't stop her trying though - and although I'm grateful for her support, she made a suggestion the other day, based on an advert she saw, which almost genuinely hurt.

It's not interesting, despite what you may have been reading on Twitter, where I am workwise. Needless to say, I am still unemployed, but I'm re-entering full-time education in a week or so for, like, a month. This is purely vocational, and hopefully I won't fuck this one up. Until then, I am doing voluntary work - of course, I won't say where, but it has its interesting points and I don't hate it. I don't know much about applying for post-course-qualification-specific-jobs, but it's a safe assumption that there will be a lull (or, as I will term it in a more positive light, grace period) between the course and, say, the New Year. I mean, that is a complete guess, but it's what I'm working on. My plan was to spend that time looking and preparing for jobs and all that may come with them, such as finding a place to live, and possibly even relocation. My mother's plan is for me to do Christmas temp work in shops.

Which is, of course, perfectly valid, only she had to mention a shop that I have a bit of an aversion to, due to something that happened there involving my ex. I don't even like going past that shop if I can avoid it, ergo: sod's law dictates that it's the one my mother shoves in my face continuously until I actually apply for the damn job. I probably won't eve have the time to be a Christmas temp anyway, but that's irrelevant when compared to the fact that I don't. want. to. go. there.

I can't tell her that, though, because I'd have to explain, and that wouldn't go well. I wouldn't be able to anyway. And she'd think that I was trying to make some excuse, and/or accuse me of laziness. Some of those nice things that mums say. I did initially consider lying and saying that I'd applied, but halfway through trying that I kind of stopped and changed my story. I'm not a good liar, really. And in the end I applied, full well in the knowledge that a) my prior experience is an advantage since I've done the job before and b) extra money over Christmas is always useful, but with a burning hope in my heart that I won't get it - my course will end too late for me to start or something - because I am fully aware that going to this shop - even as staff - would make me uncomfortable, sad, and distracted.

And to be honest, I really don't need that. Not now. Not ever.

Monday, 10 October 2011

As far as I can see, we were carved from the same tree...

Why won't this work? AAAAAARRRRGH!!! Oh, there we go.

Don't worry, that wasn't what I said over the last week, spending time with @notCatharine; it's just my immediate reaction to some of the keys on my netbook's keyboard deciding to intermittently shut down. Twitter isn't working on my BlackBerry either. I'd uninstall and reinstall it, but BlackBerry App World also refuses to work, so I'm kind of stuck on that too. Good times.

Anyway, last week...

Well, the first thing that you need to know is that Catharine is a liar.

She'll say something like, "I spent the first two days asleep, because I'm lazy and grumpy." But what she really means to say is, "I slept a lot during the first two days, but that was because ILB had a calming influence on me and very warm cuddles."

She'll say something like, "I woke up at random points in the middle of the night." But what she really means to say is, "we spent large parts of the small hours eating biscuits in the lounge, cuddling and grinning at each other on the sofa and making each other laugh."

She'll say something like, "we didn't say anything that made much sense to each other
." But what she really means to say is, "we talked to each other in secret sex blogger language, which made us feel like international super-spies since we knew people that the rest of her family don't."

She'll say something like, "on the last day we tried to do some modelling, but neither of us could do it." But what she really means to say is, "the modelling kit of the demonic elephant was terrible, but the bouncy balls we made were incredibly pretty and very well-patterned, and ILB has been playing with his ever since he took it home."

She may even say something like, "the sex got better and better the more times we did it." But this one I agree with.

Sunday, 9 October 2011

Soft Porn Sunday: Shannon Tweed & Andrew Stevens

Shannon Tweed got married this time last week. Took her long enough. I was surprised, initially, to find out that she married Gene Simmons, before remembering that I'd already read that somewhere, and then having an "oh yeah..." moment. Well done, rock god and erotic thriller actress. Hope you're happy together.

I saw a lot of Shannon Tweed around the age of 15. Channel 5 bought a lot of mainstream erotica to show on Friday nights and, although some of it was cheesy pap, there were quite a lot of American erotic thrillers scattered through the schedules, and I quickly managed to learn that anything billed as "erotic thriller" had some semblance of a plot, whereas "erotic drama" mostly had sex in it. Since the plots were awful, I preferred the latter. Tweed starred in both types, and was prevalent in any film that had a bit of skin in it. To be honest, I always preferred
"the other Shannon" - Whirry - but some of these films were good too. I remember taping a few.

I don't have a lot of clips with Shannon Tweed in my collection - which goes to show exactly how non-obsessive I am
- so I had to scour the internet for some. And I found this:

Appearance: Illicit Dreams (1994)
Characters: Moira Davis & Nick Richardson

I vaguely - very vaguely - remember this one from my past. The fact that it's both directed by and starring Andrew Stevens raises a few eyebrows - an effort to get to have it off with Shannon Tweed? - but the plot is certainly unique. It's daft, but at least a little bit creative. Moira (Tweed) - who is married to Daniel (Joseph Cortese) - discovers over time that she has a telekinetic link to Nick (Stevens). They meet, fall in love, and screw. This movie, oddly enough, also stars Rochelle Swanson, in a minor role. I know that name, even if you may not... but I'll save her for later.

This is your standard sex scene between Moira and Nick. But I'm choosing it because it's a little different from her
other sex scenes. A lot of them - like this one - mostly involve odd contortions, unlikely face pulling, and music from strangled saxophones that makes me want to tear my eyeballs out and stuff my ears with them. This one's actually quite romantic, insofar as soft porn scenes go.

Okay, to start off with, aesthetically neither character is much to look at. Shannon Tweed has an OK body, but it's not really made much of in this scene. Nick has a ridiculous beard though - even worse than mine. I mean, really. Shave, Stevens! In fact, even though I'm aware of how unattractive my beard may be, his knocks him down the Glist several thousand places. It's really off-putting, and it makes me wonder if Moira would even go near him without that psychic link. Gah!

Movement-wise, though, it's okay. Pleasantly, it starts off with a nice kiss, which is always good to see, as it emphasises the "OMGZ love" bit. It mixes to them lying on the bed, looking at each other with lustful eyes for a while, and then there's a few seconds of Nick delicately running his hands over Moira's thighs. (Awww, cute!)
There's a bit with him kissing up her neck and then licking her ear - which is surprisingly arousing, considering all you can see is her face and his back (but then again, I spent the last four days making a girl orgasm by doing that, so maybe I'm biased), and after that we get OH GOD GET THAT BEARD OFF THE SCREEN Moira riding Nick; implied more than seen, perhaps, as what we get is some head shots of Nick, and no more than head and shoulders of Moira (what, no boobs?). Tweed's making the motions though...

...and then it's over, suddenly. Quite a nice shot of them spooning, while the camera zooms out.

Okay, well, the bad points first. It's not likely to get me off. Hell, I doubt it could get anyone off. It's not very explicit, and there really isn't much movement (and although Tweed can do movement, it looks a bit forced). It's a romantic sex scene... without much romance. There's effort, but it just doesn't look like they're that into each other. They're making the noises (or she is, anyway) and some of the faces are okay (except for Nick's, with that awful beard!), but they don't really fit with the music, either. Which is bland. Unobtrusive, sure, but bland.


However, having seen numerous other sex scenes from this period with this actress, bland unobtrusive music is a bit of a blessing, considering I have great respect for saxophonists and don't like to hear them sounding as if they're being kicked repetitively. And yes, it's not the best of scenes by any standard, but at least the cinematography is good. It's shot well enough and the camera work is neither annoying nor non-existent. In fact, the worst thing about this scene is that it's a bit out of place. It shouldn't really be in soft porn; it's more suited to mainstream cinema drama - since it's short and inoffensive enough to be so.

So I suppose it's a good enough effort to convey romantic sex via film. It falls short of actually doing so, of course, but for what it is, it clearly tries hard, and it does manage to avoid some of the softcore clich├ęs that these films fall into. You can watch it here, if you're interested, if the beard doesn't offend you that much. Just remember that Shannon Tweed's done some better things than this. They're just not that easy to find.

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

On

I slept in the same bed at 47 on Sunday night... but this entry isn't about that. I'm going to see cutieloveheartgirl tomorrow and will probably end up in bed with her in a very short period of time... but this entry isn't about that either. This entry is about feeling horny.

Yesterday.

I was horny basically all the way through yesterday. I don't remember when it started, but it certainly happened on the Tube on my way into London. I'm doing voluntary work at the moment and my working day was interspersed by short bursts in the office when I blanked out in my chair, losing all concentration, my erection raging to almost the point of unbearability, with very little stimulus (other than my own mind, which is usually more than sufficient, I will admit), and my infrequent trips to the toilet were characterised by noticing exactly how hard I was, and considering taking matters into my hand - then desisting because I was in a scummy toilet in a public building.

I was still turned on when 5pm came rolling around and I was washing crockery. On the way home, I was positively filthy over BBM, tapping out graphic messages to titillate the aforementioned cutieloveheartgirl, while angling my BlackBerry towards me to avoid any prying eyes from inquisitive commuters. Although the idea that they might see what I was writing was also part of the thrill.

Today, that urge is gone. It's been replaced by a desire, just as strong, for cuddles. Although I imagine I'll be getting both tomorrow.

And possibly a hug tonight from 47 as we attend The Distraction Club. But no more than that. Even if he did share my bed.

Monday, 3 October 2011

Family Business

So, it turns out my sister is... wait for it... writing an anonymous blog. Well, in a sense. It's not quite anonymous because she's already told a few people about it, and that - in my experience - is a bit of a mistake. I mean, TD found me through my blog and after a while my girlfriend's mother knew I wrote about sex online. And my sister is using LiveJournal, as well.

I've got nothing against LiveJournal. I keep one myself (since 2002) and it's a blogging service with good enough functionality to keep me amused as long as I actually write in the damn thing (in addition to ILB, which takes priority, of course). The main problem I have with LJ for anonymous writing is that its alternative to a blogroll - the friends function - does create a sort of network that you are part of (people tend to follow the same people, creating multitudes of mutual friends, and webs), and therefore if you are to friend someone that you genuinely know, staying anonymous on LJ seems a difficult task. Unless, of course, you don't friend anyone, and then what's the point in using LJ? Why not just use WordPress or something?

Then again, a lot of people on LJ are migrating to Dreamwidth these days (for a reason I can't quite fathom), so maybe she won't find staying anonymous that difficult at all. How she'll get traffic, however, I don't know.

In any case, I've read her blog. I can relax, it's not about sex. We're not all that similar.

Saturday, 1 October 2011

Siiiiiiiiiiiiing!

I'm doing open mike tomorrow. This band I'm in, the one that 47 started... well, we are rehearsing, and then our blonde lesbian drummer suggested that we do this open mike. We've done it before and it's always gone relatively well - including one memorable session where we collaboratively wrote a song together and then two of us (not me) got up on stage and performed it without actually knowing what it was meant to sound like, going on scribbled lyrics by one of our number, approved by me, and chords by everyone else. I've still got a recording of that somewhere. I should find it.

While I much prefer to do full-length gigs (and I've done these one-and-a-half-hour things all by myself because I am an egomaniac), I'm not really above doing open mike - the problem with such a venture being that one only gets two songs when that happens... and it's difficult to develop much between two songs (I tend to use banter to pad it out, which seems to work well enough). The other problem, which mostly applies to me, is the fact that I can't resist mentioning sex.

It's not really part of my act. Very few of my songs are bawdy, and while there are some really explicit ones, they are masked well by lyrics which are open to interpretation (or deliberately don't make any sense). But there are a few which have no other way of going. At open mike I've performed a song I wrote for Scarlet on Valentine's this year, which is entirely about having sex with a multitude of girls, including the postwoman, taxi driver, French maid, receptionist, waitress, porn stars, and the sister of the girl to whom the song is addressed. I've also performed a song about spending the afternoon making love in various rooms of the house (notably the bathroom floor), one about staying up late playing hentai games until you fall for one of the characters, and one about trying to seduce a girl in French by alluding to croissants and coffee. Oh, and one about trying to convince a visiting American girl to have sex with the narrator via Craigslist.

I can be very deviant sometimes.

There isn't anything wrong with me singing dirty songs. Not really. And I rarely swear, hardly ever in my banter and very rarely indeed in my songs. And now that I'm not single any more, the songs don't really have the same sort of gravitas. Love songs that refer to a certain person have lost their significance in many ways, and those alluding to people who have lost their innocence, turned bitchy, submitted entirely to their partner's whims or been gay in the Scouts also don't hold their weight very much. Yes, I do have songs which are neither about sex nor have any taboo words or allusions to the same (and they're often my best), but when you're steadily doing those over and over again until you want something different to play...

...the sexual songs are going to be all you have left after a while.

Time for a dig through my archives.