Tuesday, 28 February 2012

TMI Tuesday: Lovely!

Hello! I'm doing TMI Tuesday... and it's all about romance. And a bit of sex too. So I suppose I ought to, right?

1. You are sitting alone in a restaurant because your lunch date is late. Do you:

a) Throw something and then make out with the waiter.
b) Check to make sure he or she didn’t get into an accident, then wait patiently for two hours and use the time to compose a love song or poem.
c) Send a nasty text followed up by a voice mail telling him/her that “romance is dead and so are you!”
d) Wait for 20 minutes, and then text-message a pal to join you for lunch.

You know me, that's the sort of thing I'd do. I once waited hours in a coffee shop for someone who didn't turn up.

2. What’s more important, a romantic relationship or your career?

A romantic relationship, no question in my mind.

3. You love to roleplay in the bedroom, which one of these is more likely to be your kink?

a. Doctor and the naughty nurse
b. You’re the gardener, I’m the hoe
c. Pernickety principal and the wayward pupil that needs a spanking
d. Me Tarzan, you Jane
e. Scattered-brain boss and the seductive secretary
f. None of the above

I added my own one there. Partly because I don't particularly like roleplaying, and partly because I could probably think of far more interesting situations than those.

4. When you want sex, who tends to make the first move?

a. Me! I like to go for what I want.
b. It varies. Sometimes my partner/significant other/date or sometimes me.
c. Oh definitely the other person. Even if I want it, I’m not about to admit such a thing.
d. I drop subtle hints hoping he/she will pick up on it.

Hooray for equality!

5. When it comes to lovemaking, select the answer that best describes you/your attitudes:

a. vanilla – meets society’s middle of the road standards

b. adventurous
c. kinky
d. trisexual – I will try anything once, twice if I like it, three times to make sure. (Mae West)

Although I do swing towards 'adventurous' sometimes. I'm vanilla most of the time, but I certainly don't think I do acceptable-by-polite-society stuff (all the time). So I'm selecting the one that's closest to me, even though none of them accurately describe it. Er, is that okay?

6. You want to seduce that sexy someone, what is the sweet-nothing that you’ll whisper in her ear?

I wouldn't whisper anything. I'd just lick gently behind her ear and then kiss down her neck to her shoulder.

Bonus: What’s your idea of a romantic getaway?

One with lots of nice food, gentle places to go, some form of leisure activity that isn't compulsory, and plenty of good sex.

Monday, 27 February 2012

Not an orgasm... but close.

Horror of horrors, a joint entry to the Erotic Meet competition! Well, yes, anyway, here is is. The theme is "The Big O", which - as I'm sure you'll know - refers to the orgasm; this entry is by myself and Catharine. It's a photo of - well, us.


Disclaimer: Yes, that is actually us. No, we're not actually having sex in the picture; this is (almost) immediately following orgasm and that's why I'm using it. And Catharine's left breast is glowing because it's reflecting the light from my halo, which is - of course - sadly not in the picture.

Vote for me, because clearly I really need a big sack of sex toys.

Saturday, 25 February 2012

Back to the front

We were lying on her bed, having walked for miles. I liked the walk - we rarely ever go on walks. A stroll for a couple of hours was actually a lot of fun. At least, I thought so. I didn't run into the river either, because I would have drowned. I was barely even tempted to jump off the cliff and see if I could fly. But after such a long walk, and a return from Skipton, naked cuddles were pretty much a requirement.

She said how much she liked the fact that I was massaging her bum with my leg. I hadn't noticed I had been, to be honest. But after she said it, I realised that I had, in fact, been rubbing my right leg over her lower back and back down again, gliding over the smooth skin of her behind as I went. As she said she liked it, I continued doing it. I got the contented hum from her, which indicates I'm doin it rite. So I decided to enact a certain fantasy I've had for a while and see if it worked.

It worked.

I slid onto her back. Nestling my cock into her crack and leaving it there to throb, I sat up on my heels and dragged my hands over her back, scratching lightly. I paid attention to every inch, using both hands in a rhythm, covering her back in light scratches and, when that had been done, little rubs, again every inch, using both hands. I massaged her, shoulders down to the small of her back, and took my time over the bits that made her hum a little more intensely than others.

Leaning down and pressing my chest against her back, I propped myself up on my elbows and placed a small kiss between her shoulderblades, eliciting an "oh!". I liked that response, so I did it again. I caressed that sweet spot with my tongue, licking it in circles and figure-8s, as well as smoochy kisses, long licks and even just breathing gently on it. Alternating a few minutes of this with a few more minutes of scratching and massaging seemed to be winding her up, little by little, and after lying on her back, rubbing my body against hers, I noticed when I sat up that a perfect loveheart-shaped mark had appeared on her small. I traced it with my fingers, glad of a stencil to follow. And a very appropriate one, at that.

More than half an hour of this and I decided to move on. Lying my whole body down on top of hers, I adjusted myself to the feeling of her well-rubbed back against my chest, the fullness of her bum pressing against my crotch and her long hair sprawled out in front of me, some of it tickling my chin. I felt my penis twitch as I started gently rocking my hips, eventually slipping down so that it rubbed against her perineum. Without even entering her I started increasing the rhythm, sliding up and down against her back, feeling her gentle hum turn into lusty moans. I pecked at her shoulder and our mouths mashed together in a long kiss, breathing from both of us increasing as my heart pounded harder and faster.

As she eventually fell over the brink to orgasm I practically felt her unwind underneath me. I pulled myself together and slid off her, leaving her lying in approximately the same position as she was before, a look of blissful serenity spreading across her face.

I found out afterwards that she was in a state of intense relaxation. After idly marvelling at what else I might be able to do through curious experimentation, I decided that to relax was probably a good idea in the circumstances. Wrapping myself around her again, I snuggled down under the duvet, and saw her falling asleep, hoping to fall into that state myself soon enough. But at that time, I was content to listen to her breathing slow down as the fact that I'd relaxed her enough soon swept her into a gentle slumber.

Thursday, 23 February 2012

Sharing in Skipton

As I type this, I can look out of the window in front of me and see a green hill covered with sheep. This chair is too low for me and, until I discovered Google Chrome lurking on the Windows bar, I was fearing that I'd have to use the AOL Browser to do anything. I wasn't even aware that the AOL Browser still existed. Wonders never cease.

I'm in Skipton. It is a town comprised almost entirely of charity shops, estate agents and cafés. The houses are nice, and there's a castle which may or may not be worth a visit (I'm truly not sure; we didn't have time to go), but there is the spectre of impending doom hanging over this town, truly suggesting that old people come here to die. I can think of worse places, but frankly, I can't help feeling that, as I type this blog post, I am in Skipton: God's waiting room.

Our hotel room is really quite nice. It's well-stocked, has complimentary vegetable soup as well as teas and coffees (which will be my dinner as Catharine doesn't like eating out), and a magnificent four-poster bed, which makes me feel like a mixture between minor royalty and Paris Hilton when I lie down on it. I've only ever slept in a four-poster once before and that was in a low-budget B&B in Bath. This is a less nice town, but with a nicer bed. I guess that's almost a fair trade. Y'know, almost.

We arrived here bang on the check-in time and, after I opened all the drawers and examined the free stuff, we sat on the bed and got down to some serious kissin' time, which turned into scratching of the back when I removed my T-shirt. You can probably tell where this is going, so I'll just skip the boring bits.


She lay on her back. I'd been trying to count the orgasms, but to be fair, I was otherwise occupied, and hadn't really been in a position to count. I could tell when she started having orgasms, and I could tell when she stopped. I just hadn't been able to clearly define what had happened in between. She was sitting on my legs with her left hand in her crotch, and I was lying on my back, so I could probably be forgiven for not exactly seeing...

...but anyway.

I listened to her heavy breathing. I kissed her and tasted a slight tang in her mouth, which - as I then realised - was probably a result of her intermittently giving me sweet blowjobs in between her own orgasms. Insofar as I was concerned, I was really very close. She kissed me, crawled up into a seating position and spread her legs open, looking directly at me.

I closed my eyes and bit my lips as my own orgasm hit. I wasn't counting seconds, but if I had been, I would have lost count. It was long. I felt my cum hit my collar bone, and trace a line down to my hand, which was still tightly wrapped around my throbbing penis. Unable to move, speak or even breathe properly, I gradually brought myself back down to earth, feeling the softness of the bed under nay back and grasping hold of the warm, soft hand of Catharine to my left.

It took me a while to recover. I went into out en-suite bathroom, which looks like it cost about £1m alone, to clean up the bits that she didn't lick off. That took me a long time, as well - I kept finding bits in places I didn't even know I had.

And then we walked into Skipton.

I think I'll be using our hotel shower this evening, though.

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Eroticon 2012 link-up

I present here, for your delectation and delight, the Eroticon 2012 link-up meet and greet list thingy, that Ruby sent out to us "delegates" (ooh, fancy!) recently. Here's the link back to her initial post so you can see who else is coming - hooray networking! My details are below. You know, evidently.

Name: Innocent Loverboy / ILB
Blog: innocentloverboy.blogspot.com

Twitter: innocentlb
Facebook: I don't use Facebook - well, I do, but for my other, more boring life
Height: 6'0"
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Describe yourself in three words: Flirtatious, cute*, angelic
What are you looking foward to at Eroticon? Meeting everyone... again**
What’s on your Lovehoney wishlist? Soft porn! And lots of it!***
What song would you add to the Eroticon playlist? James - Laid

* so they say, although I'm not sure about this one. Catharine insisted.
** everyone that I've already met, that is. Not that I'm averse to new people.
*** although I'm not sure this is included, it's a real answer!
**** is a type of petrol

Monday, 20 February 2012


Even though it's actually taken this long for me to start doing this, I now stroke the bottom of my balls and occasionally my perineum while masturbating.

I'm almost 27 and, what's more, I spent two years telling people something like, "when you stroke something along the length of your perineum, you may experience a brief pleasant sensation," and it only occurred to me that I should try doing so about three days ago. Annoyingly, although the rest of me is hypersensitive, my penis isn't actually that sensitive, so although this gives me a lot of staying power, sometimes it requires a bit of extra sensation to get me off (ref: extra stimulants; sub-ref: Catharine sucking my right nipple; soft porn; stroking my hair). Well, cupping the underside of my balls is one such stimulant.

It's only me as well. I've stimulated other people's areas for sexual pleasure as well. Nobody with balls, evidently; I hold true, though, that the area of skin between vagina and anus is oft overlooked in the practice of oral sex and should not be avoided. But nevertheless, I forgot about trying it myself.

A few days ago, my left hand slipped and accidentally brushed against my perineal raphe, which made me go audibly "ooh!". While gripping my penis' foreskin with my right hand, I brushed my index finger of the left underneath my scrotum and along the line. It sent a tingling sensation throughout my sexual organs, producing a sensation not unlike the slight tickle that I feel in my balls when I am suitably interested enough to get aroused. And, due to the fact that the testes tighten up during sexual arousal coupled with the fact that I have freakishly large hands, it wasn't any trouble to continue cupping my sack and occasionally stroke myself there while continuing to tug on the penis.

Since this happened - you know, by accident - I've continued to do it when I masturbate, just to bring that extra edge of pleasure to my playtime. And it only took me 27 years to realise this. Fantastic.

Sunday, 19 February 2012

Soft Porn Sunday: Kim Dawson & Steve Curtis

It's really odd, sometimes, that when you consider how formulaic soft porn can be, how few recurring motifs there actually are. Bedtime Stories, however, isn't afraid to use them - there's usually a lot of simulated cunnilingus, there are two or three (almost always three) sex scenes per episode, and there is a host character, Belle (Kim Dawson) - who, unlike other characters such as the jilted man in Red Shoe Diaries or Samantha from Passion Cove, actually gets involved in the action.

But there's another recurring motif that I've noticed - and I'm sure I can't be the only one to have noticed it. It's a piece of music. I've heard it elsewhere... and I'm sure it's not just used in Bedtime Stories, either. I've heard it in other soft porn scenes from ot
her series, and that's both worrying and intriguing. It's a good piece of music actually, and it fits sex well enough, so I don't mind it being used more than once. I just wonder why it's not done more often, and why specifically this one. I wonder if royalties are involved.

Appearance: Bedtime Stories, Series 1: "No Names, Please" (2000)
Characters: Belle & Michael
So. This scene features Belle. I've featured her in a scene before, so we know what she's like. Cascading blonde hair, nice enough body, cheeky grin. Clearly knows what she's doing, although that may be because she's Kim Dawson and has done this sort of thing many times. It also features Michael. Michael is a nervous young man who's clearly quite inexperienced with sex, and he's played by Steve Curtis. Which is a really unassuming and quite uninspiring name. Then again, so is "Michael". I started writing a soft porn script the other day in which the protagonist is called Carruthers Fortescue Smythe. Anyway, yes.

In this episode, called "No Names, Please" as if we needed a cunning clue as to
what it's about, a woman named Tania (Michelle Hall, pretending her name is Monique Jeanette) is looking for a "sex only" relationship with a nice man, so for some reason she knows exactly who to call. She calls Belle, who recommends Michael. This is Belle, uh, "trying him out".

Ah, the familiar drum beat.
The characters start this in a state of semi-undress as it is, Michael's hand between Belle's legs briefly (very briefly) before we cut to Belle disrobing and several mixes to them in various stages of rather extreme foreplay. It's quite nice lingerie she's wearing, actually. She moans (loudly) and then climbs onto Michael, and them we cut almost immediately to them having sex in the astride position, Michael lying back on the sofa with a steadying hand on Belle's hips. She's riding him as Kim Dawson is want to do, with a nice fluidity and very good body movements, and a few pleasurable moans thrown in (although hers always sound more like "oh!" to me than anything else). She guides his hand to her breast and bounces a few more times, a very enticing, mischievous grin on her face... and then we cut to...

They're having sex in the missionary position now. An immediate cut, not even a mix or a link. I like that - the jump doesn't interrupt the sex. It even prompts you to think of exactly what happened in between. But it's this bit of the scene that's my favourite. It's very intense, clearly, and although by this point
Belle's moans are getting a bit annoying, they're clearly both having a good time doing whatever it is they're doing. Michael is propped up on his hands for much of this, and Belle closes her legs around his waist at one point - something I've always found ridiculously hot for no apparent reason. They've both got a mixture of arousal and confusion flickering across their faces at points, and by the end, you really do get the feeling you've been watching them have sex - which, I guess, is the point.

One thing that I'll remember about this scene is that after the "orgasm
movement" - there always is one, and here it's the only time you'll actually hear Michael make a single sound - there's a quick close-up of Belle's face. She's moving too rapidly for it to be happening at that time, so it's clearly a very quick bit of footage they've added in for a second or two. Why? To fit the length of the music track, of course!

The scene closes with Michael lying on top of Belle. She's got an arm around him, resting on his back. Very sweet.

What I think I've said before, however, and which I'll reiterate here, is that one of the best things about Bedtime
Stories is that it's actually really well thought out in terms of setting and scenery. I've put a couple more screenshots up here than I usually would, so you can see. The sex, of course, takes place on a sofa, but the room they're in is really quite cool. Nice décor, candles (one quite prominent one, which I hadn't noticed up until now!), an open French window to a garden with fairy lights... it actually gives the impression that this is happening on a balmy summer night, which all works out quite nicely. But, as pretty as it is, the stars of this scene really are the two humans. I'd like to see more of the chemistry between these characters, or even just the actors themselves - did they enjoy it? How planned was it? It seems a lot deeper than just your average sex scene, and while the cinematography, setting, movements and (of course) the familiar soundtrack never fail to arouse me within a few seconds, it's almost what you don't know that intrigues me about this one.

Saturday, 18 February 2012


Staring out of the window at the rain. It's always the same view. The leafless, dry trees in the gardens opposite. The large firs, those ones from the Wood Man level of Megaman II, swaying slightly in the breeze. It's not dark. White cloud blocks the sky - we are overcast. A white sky with clear rain pattering gently onto the rooftops, before trickling down to the ground below. Every time it hits my window, I hear a small drop, and if I listen hard enough, I hear it falling. Up and down, up and down, like the waves of the sea.

As the sea of green dances against the white overcast sky, I look north and wonder what I would find if I left. If I kept walking, what would I find? I'd go through the town. And what then? When I escape London, I go in, and then the train takes me out again. What if I went out? Starting going, and kept going? What would I find? Who would I meet? Where would I end up?

When I was young, it was my greatest wish to be able to fly. In my dreams, in my fantasies, I used to climb out of my bedroom window and fly down to the end of my street. The big, long road that leads northwards towards the town was where my friends and I flew. Four of us, flying in a diamond shape, at increasing speed down the road in the dead of night. And yet not, with the gentle spring rain, and the white sky, I look out over the chimneys of the houses opposite, and it seems even more appealing.

Tonight we fly
Over the houses, the streets and the trees
Over the dogs down below
They'll bark at our shadows
As we float by on the breeze

Same house. Same road. Same neighbourhood. Same trees. And the same dream.

Wednesday, 15 February 2012


There was a soft, irritating knock on the door.

I paused. "Uhm, the door's locked?" I said, adding a totally unnecessary interrogative to my sentence. I knew the door was locked. I'd locked it, after all.
"Uhm..." I started. "Can I help you?"
I was hoping my mother wouldn't ask what I was doing. I could hardly tell her I was wanking on my back in the middle of my bed. I'd also probably have to mention that this was the second time in a matter of hours that I had indulged in self-pleasuring, and that I had been so tightly wound up during the afternoon by flirtation with my other half, browsing through sex blogs, starting a script with fellatio in it and browsing soft porn for "inspiration" that I doubted I'd actually manage to unwind myself, even if I managed to masturbate three times.
"It can wait," came my mother's voice, to my intense relief.

Of course, my mother's voice had turned me off. But it didn't take long for me to flick that switch back to the "on" position, and after a while I'd had a more intense orgasm than the one I'd had just before dinner. Interesting. I didn't think you could do that unless you were Peter North.

I was rather crooked as I managed to make my way downstairs. After all, I'd been masturbating with my legs spread. Twice. So perhaps I can be forgiven fro my somewhat ungainly gait.

"You, uh, wanted to see me, Mother?" I asked as I opened the door to the lounge.
"Yes, I did. About that £100 you owe me..."

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Bieber fever

It was with an emotion nothing short of glee that I finally sliced open the large Jiffy bag this morning to reveal an interesting selection of presents. Said bag had been on my bed for far too long, but I knew exactly what it contained, and what's more, who it was from. After extricating clhg's card from the general mulch of discount gifts (an excellent card, home made and signed from "SOMEONE MYSTERIOUS" - I only managed to get her a card with a Stegosaurus on it, ILB FAIL!), I emptied the bag onto the bed and got to sifting through the gifts. Good stuff, in fact - including a couple of breakfasts and, erm, princess chocolates - and, among other things, a set of pencils featuring none other than Justin Bieber.

I tried to find places for all these gifts when I started feeling slightly guilty. I had, after all, just received a load of presents for Valentine's, whereas I'd only bought clhg one measly card. I felt really quite mean. What I needed to do, I reasoned, was to do something wildly inventive for her. Something special. Something totally original, that nobody in their right mind would do...

My eyes fell on the pencil I held clutched in my hand.
"What do I do, Pencil?" I enquired.
"Do it, ILB," said Justin. "You know you want to. You've wanted to for a long time. What better time than now?"
"But I've got a job interview this afternoon," I pleaded.
"That's not for hours," remarked Justin. "Go on... do it. It'll make you feel good."
"But it'll take so long!"
"That's the beauty of the thing. It'll take a long time and you'll put a lot of effort into it. But we know clhg will like it. Don't we?"
"Well, she's liked it before..."

And so into the studio I went, with the pencil stored safely in the pot where all my stationery seems to end up. I fired up my old laptop, and broke out the guitar tuner. Emerging two hours later, I staggered down the stairs dishevelled, and opened up GMail in order to send my Justin Bieber cover to my girlfriend for Valentine's.

If that's not love, I don't know what is.

Sunday, 12 February 2012

Soft Porn Sunday: Raven de la Croix & Monty Bane

"Have you seen Up?"
"The sexploitation film made in 1976 by Russ Meyer? Yes, I've seen that."
"No, I mean the one with the cranky old man and the irritating teenager..."
"Wrong Russ Meyer film. That's Beneath the Valley of the Ultravixens, from 1979..."
"I'm not talking about Russ Meyer! There are some villainous property developers..."
"Ah! Supervixens! 1975!"

Love him or hate him (and I'm referring to his films here - I get the distinct impression that I wouldn't like him as a person), Russ Meyer's films definitely made an impact and filled a niche market that I don't think any other
film-maker ever has. Although some of his films - Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!comes to mind (which, apparently, they are remaking... is nothing sacred?) - have been referenced here and there, a lot of the films he made aren't recognised. They've barely been played on UK TV since Bravo stopped showing them, despite the occasional one popping up on Channel 5, but then again, they are very American. Unlike other things which are American (Tickle My Tush), though, I enjoy these.
Mostly. Your average Meyer flick tries to carry a message along with a healthy dose of skin. Some of these messages are a warning - Vixen! is something of a scaremongering tactic about Communism (and as a leftie myself, this is why I don't think I'd like him), Beneath the Valley... is a satire on small-town American industry (to the point where the film is set in "Small Town USA"), and the aforementioned Faster, Pussycat!... is about female empowerment, and pretty much coined the term "sexploitation".

Up!, my favourite of his films, I like because it parodies even itself. Aware that there's meant to be a moral carried in the film, it even starts with a character who is, down to the moustache, a very obvious pastiche of Adolf Hitler... being brutally murdered by an unidentified assailant (via a piranha in his bath). A message about Nazism? Probably not. He's dead. And thus begins a film in which none of the characters seem to care much that he's dead.
Fortunately, a Greek chorus played by Kitten Navitidad keeps popping up to remind us of the plot, the suspects, and where we are in terms of how the mystery progresses.

Aside from everything else, Up! is more of a comedy than any other genre, and for that, I hold a special place in my heart for it.
Appearance: Up! (1976)
Characters: Margo Winchester & Homer Johnson

With Russ Meyer, the nature of his films means that a complete sex scene is hard to find. You'll get subliminal pictures, sure, and you'll get snaps of sex. You'll even get the same characters - some of them stock - popping up over and over again. In Up!, however, there are some clearly defined scenes which are just a minute or so of fun sex, and that's what I'm meant to be talking about in these reviews.

This one happens about a third of the way through the film. New in town, Margo Winchester (a "doe-eyed fucking
machine") witnesses a murder - not the one of Adolf, another one - and is initially cornered by local lawman Homer Johnson. She explains that she is innocent, but it's very clear they are flirting. After he says the immortal line, "let's talk about that at my place," they go to his place and have sex. That, of course, isn't the only place they have sex - this is a Russ Meyer film, after all. They have sex in the fields, in the river, outside his house on the steps, in his car - we cut between locations regularly (but not too rapidly) before ending up inside Homer's house, where Margo (de la Croix - an odd name, but at least it's not got "St." in it) is merrily, and with gusto, riding Homer (Monty Bane - trips nicely off the tongue, that one). Eventually they get tired and stop, but not before everything's nice and satiated.

I assume.

Let me remind you that this takes place partway through a murder mystery film.

Why do I like this scene, you may ask? Because I do like it. I do. Is it the cinematography? Well, yes and no. It's cut well, and cleverly - quickly between scenes of Margo and Homer in varying positions and varying locations, each one beautiful in their own way (and most of them outside). Even the sex on Homer's bed is very clever, not showing
much but cutting to close-ups of the tattoo on Margo's thigh, a shot of Homer's head or Margo's top half bouncing jauntily up and down. But it's not that.

Is it the sound? Well, yes and no. The music is classic - I know I recognise it from somewhere. Meyer tends to use a lot of familiar stuff in his soundtracks - Borodin's Gliding Dance of the Maidens (or Stranger in Paradise IF YOU REALLY MUST CALL IT THAT) is one. This isn't that. It's a good piece though, nice country-type banjo plucking mixed with swing. I'm sure I must have even played it in some ensemble or another at some point. It's clearly not been written for a sex scene, but it works really well.
Is it the people involved? Again, yes and no. Thematically, de la Croix is very well-endowed in the chest department, but then again, they all are - this film even contains a character called "the Chesty Young Thing". But she's very good-looking in all areas. Bane is your average man, giving hope to average men everywhere - and it's nice to see a softcore scene not focusing on somebody devastatingly handsome with a six-pack. They're giving it their all, too - something I always like to see. The sex is lusty and vigorous, and the sounds they're making are nothing short of comedic (Homer especially - if you see this scene, listen to him - he sounds like he's going to explode!). The actors work well in sync together, and it's a good set-up for the rest of their storyline ("Margo's found equal justice under Homer," as our Greek chorus points out. Er, thanks.).

But what really makes this scene good for me? Really? It's fun. That's all it is. We've already had spanking, murder and dildos in this film. This is just pure, unadulterated fun. And it is! There are some neat little touches - Homer keeps his hat on all the time, for example (apart from in one instance where it's hanging off his car's aerial for no reason other than to keep it on show). And some of the sex positions are clearly ridiculous. But that just adds to all the fun. This is cheerful, random, pointless sex - nothing too intense or serious. And that makes it a brilliant scene. It's fun to watch, it's fun to review, and I imagine it was fun to make as well.

And it makes me laugh. Which is just what you need sometimes.

Saturday, 11 February 2012

Past Times

Yesterday afternoon, for want of something to do, I decided to have a go at recording a song so I fired up my old laptop, which is currently in my attic studio along with a collection of guitars, an electric drum kit, a real drum kit, various percussion instruments, electric music aids and a double bed.

Oh, and a toothbrush.

My attempts at making music, save for incredibly lame beatboxing, a song that doesn't rhyme and the realisation that I can play The Battle Hymn of the Republic on the swannee whistle quite accurately, were all a bit fruitless and, because I had nothing else to do (well, nothing that I actually wanted to do), I decided to browse through the hidden depths of my old laptop while I was still there. Okay, so I had that laptop as my primary computer for a very long time, before I got my shiny netbook, and I already kind of knew what I'd find. But I'd forgotten the extent...

...of my collection of hentai games.

Okay, calm down. Before you ask, no, none of my hentai games involved tentacles. I was quite specific in terms of the games I dowloaded. They had to involve boy/girl sex (well, that's hentai anyway, although there was a bit of yuri in some of them... I never saw yaoi though), there had to be decent enough animation, and the sex scenes should be easy enough to get. As with all the games I've played, there had to be some semblance of a plot, but then again, with H-games the plot is often the main focus of the gameplay!

I loaded up Runaway City. Ticking the other games off in my head... True Love is the best but far too addictive, Paradise Heights 2 I just wasn't in the mood for (and I've played it enough times anyway), RSP is a bit lame and doesn't have a plot, I always got frustrated by X-Change, and I knew the other ones didn't work. So I played through the first half of Runaway City, well aware that with the linear nature of the game it's damn near impossible to actually miss any of the scenes.

My intention wasn't clear to begin with. I wasn't aiming to orgasm by clicking quickly through to the inevitable animated shags. I also wasn't trying to entertain myself, as my attempts at music earlier in the afternoon had proved that I was incapable of doing that. But, as I paused and dreamily gazed up out of the window, flashes of my life came back to me; bits of my history in which these games had been important, in which this computer had contained a large part of my life. I played my first hentai game the night before I went on a trip with my A-Level English class. The night I got back, I resumed playing it. In my second year of university, I wrote an essay on a train with this picture of Kaori Shimizu as my background. In my third year, I spent every single night for a month in a sex chat room, trying to make friends and see if I could keep it up.

I spiralled into a nostalgia trip... and it only took a few scenes of hentai to start me off.

And realise what a dirty boy I used to be. At least, I thought I was dirty. I probably actually wasn't.

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Keep it simple, stupid!

I had a dream last night that involved kisses in a big house. I think I've seen that house before. I remember the kisses not being what kisses actually feel like. But they were kisses. That's what counts.

It feels like I haven't kissed anyone for a long time. In reality, it's less than a month ago. I once went over three years without having a single kiss and I missed it - of course I did - but nevertheless, it was fine. I last kissed clhg eighteen days ago and it seems like forever. I guess you don't really know what you've got until it's gone, and other Joni Mitchell-type adages.

What made me dream of kisses? No idea. There were lots of kisses going on on Friday - some of them appropriate. I've been reading a teen romance novel this week, and that doesn't go any further than kissing. I've suddenly read a lot of poetry and fiction that involves kisses. This week's episode of Glee ended with a kiss. And yesterday I found out the game Catherine is coming out in the UK, and although I'm mostly attracted to it by its box art name, I'm pretty sure its plot involves kisses. (Probably won't be playing it, though, unless someone releases it for the Wii. Nintendo solidarity!) Yup, I actually am surrounded by kisses. They're everywhere. And I'm not getting any kisses. Well, not at the moment. I will, but not for another two weeks' time.

I mean, I'll be alone on Valentine's (again) this year. I have a job interview on the day itself. Fantastic.

Still, I can take comfort in one thing. When I do get to kiss, it will be very sweet indeed.

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Something for everybawdy

"How's your knowledge of British seventies sex comedies?" asked my friend.

I hadn't expected him to ask this, but then again, if I had to pick any one of my friends who would ask that question, it would be this guy. His walls are practically made out of piles of British comedy in VHS format. I think he sneezed once and they had to get a JCB to dig him out. Why he was casually asking me that question, though, I don't know - although he hadn't exactly asked the wrong person. It doesn't take a genius to work out that I do, in fact, have a rather extensive knowledge of British sex comedies. I've watched enough of them.

As the question hung in the digital ether in front of me, I allowed myself a few seconds' hesitation to craft a reply. My fingers twitched before falling to the keyboard. What, exactly, was I meant to say?
"Why, yes, of course I do. I used to wank to some of the scenes when I was 14."
"What sort of sex comedies? Do they have to be from the Seventies?"
"I've seen a few, but not many."
"What's a sex comedy?"
"What's sex?"

Feeling that I really ought to say something, I dragged my fingers across the keys, and flashed him a reply.
"What do you want to know?"

"Well, there are these available on eBay for... [Some small amount of money. I can't recall exactly, but this guy doesn't buy anything that's over 99p. He haggles in charity shops.] ...and I wanted to know if they were worth it." Dude, you watch Open All Hours. Of course these will be worth it. "Which ones?"
He reeled off a list. I started to type a remark that the Confessions films were conspicuous by their absence, but then I remembered he'd already got them. Nevertheless, I recognised most of the titles. This, then, brought up the question of exactly how much I could say without letting on that I'd liked these films a little too much.

"Well," I said carefully, "Adventures of a Taxi Driver isn't funny. The Amorous Milkman isn't funny. The Ups and Downs of a Handyman..." I paused. "...has a good theme tune, but isn't funny." Another pause. "There isn't any sex in it either."

I wondered idly if that mattered to him. It probably didn't, but then again, 21-year-old friend is different from 14-year-old ILB. He probably had a different reason for getting the films. When there wasn't any response from him, I carried on.
"Rosie Dixon: Night Nurse is worth it for the sex," I finished. This was, of course, a lie. But I needed to say something other than "...isn't funny." And I couldn't very well have said, "...made me orgasm even though it's not actually meant to do that."

And now, years on, I still wondered how much of a contribution my carefully restrained comments made to his decision. He bought them all anyway. But then again, I knew he would to begin with.

Monday, 6 February 2012

Retrospective, part 2

Okay. I'll finish this now. Honest.

Friday's Erotic Meet was, for me, an experience. Like my first CCK Social or my first Spiritual Space, this was an unknown quantity. And like both of those events, this was (for the most part) in a public arena, so I was idly wondering exactly how far it would be able to go.

Pretty far, it turns out.

My head divides the main body of the Meet into three distinct stages... which is how it's divided anyway. Good one for picking that one up, head. The beginning, dubbed "Meet the Members", was... well, maybe "meet" isn't the word. I'd already met twelve of 'em. But as more and more people began to trickle in, I gradually felt like less of a wallflower and more like a member of a gradually increasing social clique. I'm usually left out of cliques, so this was interesting. I got chatting to Jilly, who I hadn't said too much to throughout the rest of the day, and Blacksilk, who turned back up in a different outfit. Rose, in an outfit I'd laced up for her eleven hours earlier, put her cookies on a shared table and offered them up to everyone. Annie strolled about enthusiastically greeting people as if they'd been friends in utero. It was a bit of a slow start for me, but generally picked up. And it certainly attracted attention when Molly got hit by a riding crop three times by DomSigns.

Told you it went far.

Eight-thirty rolled around, aided by a cheap(ish) bar, and the Members' Mic started. This was the bit I was really looking forward to, and as the first act started, I knew it was going to be at least entertaining. DragonKingsDaughter was the host, and she did a good job. Although they all had their merits, the acts that really stood out for me were Annie, with her exaggerated sexy movements, Sarah Berry (who read out a piece which not only titillated, but amused with such enthusiasm, and even recovered well after she was heckled) and Jill's short, sharp and punchy poem which summed up sexual desire in about thirty seconds.
My bit happened and I was very pleased with the introduction I got, in which DKD referred to me as "...our innocent loverboy." Although stage fright isn't really a thing for me, my head was still refining exactly how I'd perform what I had planned, although I had the cue-sheets and prop ready in my pockets. To my immense relief, everything went almost exactly how I'd rehearsed (a surprise, more than anything else, on account of the fact that I improvised half of it!), and at least I got the laughter, which was my overall aim. People did keep telling me that they enjoyed it afterwards, however, and DKD said I was cute, which I suppose is the best an ILB could hope for. I'm not sure if they could hear it at the back, but I gave it all I could.

The speech section finished and we moved on to the raffle, in which I didn't win anything, but some people won multiple things; we were then told to move our stuff because the corner had been double-booked. Hmmm. In retrospect, moving our stuff may have been a mistake, but we didn't have much of a choice. We relocated to a far corner of the venue as the floor cleared for the club night.
As the hours went on various things happened. Lots of people were touched, sometimes inappropriately (but seemed to enjoy it anyway). I pole-danced for about ten seconds, because there was a pole. I took a picture of John's foot. Blacksilk and Jilly kissed passionately (which Jilly described as "divine") while I discussed roleplaying and fantasy novels with Crush - who is a geek of the highest calibre. John made out with a slightly drunk Annie, who got more drunk as time went by, and at one point needed me to hold her up to John could extricate himself from the sofa and go to the toilet. Rose danced with an anonymous guy who was incredibly persistent. I texted Catharine to let her know how things were going. I cuddled Jilly. I danced for a while, mostly on my own.

I was still probably the best behaved person there, and I yet felt so naughty. Not so innocent loverboy.

So was it a good night? Yes. One of the best events I've been to. Hell, I may even go to some more... I have a habit of doing that. I probably won't write three blog posts again, but with the multitude of bloggers who go to these things, I don't imagine you'll be too short of things to read. And with that, I finish my overly long analysis. This blog will now revert to its usual brand of advanced lunacy.

Thanks, everyone.

Sunday, 5 February 2012

Retrospective, part 1

Being a recollection of all that happened before the post-party-sleeping-people-sex-people-coke-getting-rickshaw-based adventure.

Thursday was fun and frantic. I went to the station to get @sexwithrose, who turned up at the right time. I was worried I'd be late because the Victoria Line decided to stop working. I was, incidentally, accompanied by Mane's older sister, who was heading to uni at the time. After I'd said hi to Rose we had breakfast at Pret while waiting for @spacecheetos and good-boy-bad-boy to turn up. They did... eventually. But it took a while for us to find them. Or for them to find us. Whatever. We met up; it matters not.
We went up to Camden, which was freezing cold but a lot of fun. We looked in thrift shops and through stalls in the Lock, avoiding the market in case all money was spent randomly. GBBB acted like a tourist and took lots of snaps. Lots. And lots. There was a smattering of people with pink hair and big shoes on the side of buildings. I almost hit GBBB with a flogger I found in Cyberdog, but I didn't. He hit Shalla with one, however. We ended up in a pub, where we stayed until well past four, and were joined by another guy, whose name I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say or not. But that's pseudonymous blogging for you.
We then went into the City of London, which was kind of interesting, except about fifty degrees colder. We went to a pub in London Bridge with a view to a drink and games, except there was nowhere at all to sit. Eventually we split up with the promise to reconvene the next day. I went back to my house, feeling slightly weather-beaten, but more upbeat and energetic than I'd been during the first half of the day. I put Rose in my spare room and we chatted for a while about why they hadn't made an Artemis Fowl movie yet (although apparently they're writing one!) and how Twilight is shit. We played variants of Smash Bros., at which she started beating me after a while, and Mario Kart, wherein we were pretty evenly matched (both kept losing). And there were cookies.

Friday was frolicky and frisky. I travelled up to St. Pancras, again accompanied by Mane's older sister. I stood for far too long in a line to get tickets, then found Rose, Shalla, GBBB, Lusty, Lily, @lostwithoutluna, @blacksilkblog, @jillyboyd and @annieplayer. I bought some Innocent juice and we piled onto a train, for a ride which included lots of loud discussion about sex toys and some quite scared passengers. Taxis took us to the headquarters of sextoys.co.uk, where @rebeccalowrie, @mollysdailykiss and @domsigns joined us. @thecarasutra organised chairs for us while Emma made tea, and we had an impromptu discussion about sex education, perceptions of different sexualities and whether or not boys tend to use sex toys. It was the kind of discussion that it felt appropriate to have in a room with samples of toys that looked like doorstops and, in some cases, disembodied bits of what used to be people.
We were eventually taken upstairs to a corporate-looking office and then stepped into a board room with the very surreal quality that every single inch of the table in the middle was covered in sex toys. We were talked to about how the company made this range of toys, how 99% of them are from China, and how they're impossible to open. We had a long group rap session about what different toys did for different people, although we all seemed to agree that some of them should come with handles. Eventually we were shown in small groups around the warehouse, which was humongous.

That's a great word. I should use it more often.

We bundled back into taxis at the end of the tour clutching bags full of sex toys. On the train back to London there was a lot of swapping. At some point I'm pretty sure that nobody had the same ones they started off with. I also seem to recall offering some to other passengers. These passengers were grateful, as opposed to scared.

After a vague middle period in which members of our group peeled off in order to reconvene later, a few of us went to the Green Carnation. Annie went in to set up and make sure that we didn't get mixed up with the birthday party which was going on downstairs. Rose, Jilly and I went next door to have some semblance of dinner, which was actually delicious; I think I was the only person who didn't then change clothes for the Erotic Meet. Which started.

I'll continue this in a later post. Mostly because I've just realised I haven't had an orgasm for six days and should really check if I'm still working or not. I have a bag of sex toys, in fact.

Saturday, 4 February 2012

Treks with Rose

I was on a bit of a comedown from the heat and hype of the Erotic Meet as the club music came slowly to an end last night. The lights went on, illuminating the Green Carnation, and those of us who were still around (which was a sizeable number) went around collecting our things - including, but not limited to, plastic bags stuffed full of sex toys procured from our sojourn to their spiritual home earlier in the day. However, it was only at that point that Rose realised that one of her bags had gone missing; more unfortunately, it was a bag containing her bank cards, money, passport and train tickets - in short, everything she needed to get home.

We spread out, more and more people attempting to find it, and in the end, the manager took my number on the promise he'd call, whether or not they found the bag.

He didn't call.

Everyone went on to the afterparty, and by "everyone" I mean, you know, ten people. Elenya fell asleep on her boyfriend; John and Miss Player were... doing something or another, I was trying not to look; our host had gone to get some cock. Sorry... Coke (the drink). The rest of us had managed to procure a laptop and a dodgy printer which I managed to make work by holding its power lead and USB cable firmly in place. Through the grace of modern technology, Rose managed to print out a fairly good-quality copy of a form of ID, along with her tickets. I called the police to file a report of loss and/or theft ("Someone's nicked it," said the copper on the other end of the 'phone.) and we got a reference number.

Everyone was very kind. They all saw us out of the flat. I, for my part, pretty much insisted upon going with her - partially because she'd been staying at my house the previous night, but also because she's a friend, somebody needed to go with her and I'm an ILB, so I felt somewhat responsible. Oh, and we had twenty minutes to get her on a train to the airport. And I do like a good adventure.

So we got a rickshaw.

Okay, so yeah, it's not the ideal mode of transport. We were, in fact, looking for a taxi. But we didn't have a lot of time and a confident rickshaw cyclist was insistent that he'd get us there in time. So off we went. We didn't, obviously, get there in time, but at least we got to the station. I managed to procure a ticket and we discovered that there was another train in half an hour. After sitting on a seat which was far too cold, I finally saw Rose off onto a train and, still worrying that she might not be able to board a 'plane, I headed back to the station concourse.

It was, of course, at this point that I realised I hadn't even considered how I was meant to get home, effectively stuck in central London without any visible means of getting home at four in the morning. After dithering around for a while, I decided to withdraw £20 to see how far I could get in a taxi that wasn't attached to a bicycle. I got as far as a bus station from where I managed to get on a bus that took me to a place ten minutes from my house. I was home by a very respectable 5:30am. A text from Rose confirming that she would be allowed to get on the flight alleviated any worries that may have been afflicting my brain, which was shutting down anyway.

I went back to running over the positive points of the previous two days in my head. There were many, but I won't list them here because this post is too long anyway. It didn't take me long to fall asleep, but it did take me a much more sizeable amount of time to wake up this morning. And hey, at least a dash through London in the dead of night makes an interesting day a bit more interesting. Add that to the mix and I've got plenty to remember.

Unlike John and Annie. I doubt they'll remember much.

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Standing on the brink

And so this is it, the day that I was waiting for. A bit of an anticlimax really.

Okay, that's really cryptic. Well, starting tomorrow I'm giving myself four days off worky things to centre my entire existence around the Erotic Meet for a while. Yes, I am a whore. You can't berate me for being excited. I'm an excitable person. I just hide it behind a mask of laissez-faire boredom. Anyway. I'm excited.

I had big plans for today. I had a lot of stuff I wanted to get done and, to be fair to myself, I got a lot of it done. But it feels as if I've barely done anything. I actually don't know how much more I could have done. My 'phone is still being a bitch and intermittently cutting out signal, so I haven't been getting the deluge of tweets that sometimes keep me going through the day. But I don't feel like I've done much.

If that makes sense. It probably doesn't make any sense.

In any case. I made it through to today and that's what I've been sort of waiting for since last month. This had better be good, blogosphere. Don't disappoint me.