Monday, 30 April 2012

Trouty mouth

I have a wound on the right-hand side of my mouth, and IT'S ALL MY FAULT... I was shaving rather zealously with my faithful electric razor last night (although to look at me you wouldn't know I'd had a shave at all), and managed to catch the skin in between my lips. After the necessary blood-flow, washing my face and trying to stem the sanguine stream with a flannel, I finished up shaving and went back to my daily business of pissing about online, reading books and longing for bed.

Upon awakening this morning I found that the place where I'd cut my skin had healed, but swelled up to a size noticeable to the touch. Touch, that is, by both fingers and tongue, but now that I know it's there, it's even harder to resist licking it, like some self-obsessed cat that's convinced his own cheek is made of milk. Yes, it's painful. Really quite painful, to be brutally honest. But it's a small, concentrated wound that's in a place with lots of nerve endings; ergo: it hurts.

I'll live, but my first thought was: "giving oral sex with this will be really painful."

Yes, that was my first thought. I didn't even think of talking, eating, yawning or any of the other activities which involve opening my mouth (which is when it hurts the most, natch). I barely even thought of kissing. In all honesty, I visualised myself giving oral sex to a girl and thought, "yeah, can't do that for a while - it'd hurt."

It's not like I even plan on engaging in oral sex any time soon. Not that it's generally a planned event; I don't write "oral sex, three o'clock" in my diary (although now I'm going to, because that will amuse me) alongside "pay in cheque", "see off 47" or "write the damned poem already" (ought to do that, really). But, short story even shorter - I'm probably not going to be licking any girls out at any point over the next day or so. Next time I actually find my head in between some wonderful thighs, there probably won't be this tiny wound in between my lips and I'll be free to open my mouth as wide as I damn well please once more.

Although, in case you're curious about hypothetical situations, I probably still would give oral sex... even if it hurt a bit. See, my heart's in the right place after all.

Sunday, 29 April 2012


Let's play a game.

Comment on this post with the word "Why?".

Thursday, 26 April 2012

So say we all...

There's this girl who hangs around at work. I think that's the technical term, but it's definitely the literal one. I've never actually seen her do any real work. According to lore, she's the big boss' PA. But I've never seen the big boss either. Here in the underclass that is our department, we have few visitors. The occasional client, a past employee or two, and the cleaning staff, which consists entirely of one man who I've never heard say a word, although he's hit me with his vacuum a couple of times. But this girl isn't bad company. She turns up to see one specific member of staff, but he's barely ever around. I'm usually sitting here doing nothing, though, so she knows my name by now at least.

I walked into the break room today to find her sitting there, having a conversation with my geeky colleague about antidepressants. Well, I say geeky. He's not a real geek, but he used to play AD&D a bit and he knows what Alien Breed is. He's not me, but as a geek-in-training he's not half bad. He's who this girl comes to see. And there they were, having a conversation about antidepressants. I joined in, mostly to interject the fact that what they were technically talking about was "selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors". I stopped short of explaining how they actually worked, as I think that may have caused some sort of seizure.

As isn't difficult to imagine, it transpired that all of us have been prescribed SSRIs at some point in the past. And they've all had the same effect. While the rest of us were hedging the subject, my geeky colleague put it succinctly: "my dick stopped working." The girl said that the same had happened to her - not insofar as she has a dick which stopped working, of course... but something to the same effect. She had trouble, she admitted, reaching the grand finale. But then again, I think we all did. That's what SSRIs do. It's an unpleasant side-effect.

But we all stopped taking them pretty soon afterwards. And as she put it, she'd rather be prone to bouts of intense depressive mania than go for years without a spark of sexual pleasure at all.

As would I, dear lady. As would I.

Wednesday, 25 April 2012


"What happened to Mister Simms?" asked Robinson, with a gleeful grin at Mane, who lowered his drink slowly.
"Who's Mister Simms?" inquired the young raver.
"He runs the other sweet shop in the town," answered Robinson. "Only I think it's a chain, because I'm pretty sure his name isn't Simms really."
"He's a corporate liar," rasped Mane.
Everyone stopped chatting, although the rest of the faceless masses in the pub continued with their inane banter.
"Why?" I asked, which was clearly a mistake.
"Well, I applied for a job there," said Mane. "He had all my details. I gave him all the contact and work history stuff I could; I even gave him loads more stuff... anyway, I called up and he said he'd call back. He didn't. I called about three times..." He took a breath. "...and then he opened. I went in there, right, and all the people he'd hired were pretty young girls! I'm pretty sure that's discrimination!"
Everyone grinned evilly.
"You know," said my friend-who-is-a-teacher slowly, "you may not have given him exactly what he wanted..."
"Like what?"
"He may have wanted to see your... you know... your humbugs."
There was a ripple of laughter.
"Humbugs? Surely they're more like Sally Lunn buns?"
"Fresh cream éclairs?"
"I'm not sure," pitched in Robinson. "Maybe he'd rather have seen your liquorice wand."
"Sherbet straw?"
"Strawberry lace?"
It's amazing how these things get started.

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

TMI Tuesday: S. E. X.

Hey, here's a TMI Tuesday. I'm aware that I do too many of these, judging by the fact that every time I look at my blog, I see large blue text every two posts or something. Do real posts moar, ILB. Yeah, anyway, here's this week's. They're all about S.E.X...

1. What is your sexual personality?
a. The Controller – initiating sex, twisting your lover into positions you want, and driving scene play by play
b. Sex Slave – You love to be used and at the mercy of your lover. You don’t initiate but follow and do as you are told. You love to be used.
c. Daredevil – Sexual adventure and sexual thrills are what you are all about. You get off on the risk factor.
d. Subdued – Sex is a necessary part of the relationship so you are available when needed.

Is there a 'none of the above'? I think, if you're going to twist my arm and demand I have to pigeonhole myself into one of those categories, I'd go for A. This doesn't mean that I'm dominant, or unfair, or demanding. It just means that I'm not afraid to initiate sex. Although it depends who I'm with; I've sometimes been hesitant, in the presence of someone with more experience than me, to start anything because I'm waiting for a sign that often doesn't actually come!
But, although I'd still never actually ask (God forbid), I'm getting better at giving the signs myself. I'm not brilliant, but I'm improving. So, yeah, hypothetically A, but I don't fit into any of those really.

2. How many times have you sneaked away from party guests to have sex in another part of the party venue. Where did you sneak to? Were you ever caught? For example, at a wedding reception you sneaked to have sex in the coat room. At a party, you sneaked to have sex in a bathroom or closet.

The phrasing of these questions can be really bad sometimes. Anyway. Never. Ever ever. The closest I've got is kissing on the bedroom floor during a party, but that didn't last long and didn't really go anywhere either.

3. Your sex partner that you are mad crazy for has requested you do one of the following, which one would you grant consent to do:
a. Bondage/light restraint with your hands, legs tied while having sex
b. A sexual spanking that leaves light marks
c. Record the two of you having sex
d. Have sex in a mirrored room where you can see yourselves having sex from every angle

D. I actually quite like the sight of myself having sex. It's still difficult to believe that it's actually happening. However, assuming that my sex partner could see everything too, in a room full of mirrors, then I couldn't wink at the camer... er, mirror, and give myself the thumbs-up. Which is what I generally do. Yeah, I'm that cool.

4. Do you act out your sexual fantasies (select one)? Why?
a. I act out all of my fantasies.
b. I act out many of my fantasies.
c. I act out some of my fantasies.
d. I act out very few of my fantasies.
e. I don’t act out any of my fantasies.
f. I don’t have any fantasies.

Tempted to go with F for this one because I genuinely don't have a lot of fantasies. Most of my fantasies, if you can call them that, involve other people having vanilla sex. They very rarely involve me, and if they do then it's the concept of sex, rather than the act itself, that turns me on.
Anyway, I'm going with A, because if I'm fantasising about having vanilla sex, and I'm having vanilla sex, then it logically follows that I'm acting out some of my fantasies. That's how it works, right? I know this would be more interesting if I were really into more nonconformist sexual practices, but as the most extreme thing I've wanted to do is make someone orgasm in public, and I've done that several times, I've pretty much fulfilled them all. Kinda.

5. How important is sex in your life (select one)?

a. I could hardly survive without it.
b. It is very important.
c. It is somewhat important.
d. I could live without it.
e. If it were up to me, sex wouldn’t even exist!

B. Insert your own "it's not a necessity but I like it" phrase here. You kinda know what the answer is.

Bonus: Finish the following phrase.

Sex is pretty cool, yo.

Sunday, 22 April 2012

Soft Porn Sunday: Maya Divine & Eric Masterson

Masterson. Interesting. I wonder if he's any relation of Danny Masterson. Judging by my blog's stats, typing "Danny Masterson" will probably double my readership. Here's hoping.

Okay, I'll admit it here and now. I've never seen Bikini Airways. I don't even know the plot. I know it's got Jason Schnuit Jay Stewart in it, and I know a lot of it appears to be set on an aeroplane. I think Stewart's character's wearing a lei at some points, which makes me wonder if poisonous snakes are going to attack at any point. It would certainly improve the film, which doesn't have a good write-up.

Apart from the scenes with Maya Divine. Everyone likes those.

Appearance: Bikini Airways (2003)
Characters: Francine & Delivery Guy

Maya Divine, performing as Wendy Divine - not that she's a famous porn star or anything, so masking her name totally makes sense - here plays Francine, the fiancée of Stewart's character (whose name I can't be bothered to look up). She appears in cutaway gags only marginally longer than those in Family Guy, but through the three brief scenes, we see her extramarital relationship with a pizza delivery guy progressing through different stages. In every instance, it's the "cheating girlfriend on the phone" scenario, but - unlike in Magenta where it's played for dramatical emphasis - here it's played almost exclusively for humour.

nd it makes me laugh. Deliberately. So it's kind of working here in some ways.
My parents have those wooden chairs!So the first thing to mention is that this isn't one scene. It's three. In the first two, Stewart's character (who is having lots of illicit sex himself, so he's not portrayed as a victim here) is calling Francine, who's at home while he's flying around with the motherfucking strippers on the motherfucking plane. In the third, Francine is calling him. But in each time, she's engaging in flagrante delicto with this tough-looking, unattractive pizza delivery guy. He doesn't have a single line in the entire movie, however.
Unlike Francine, who is a chatterbox. In the first scene, we see that she has the delivery guy's head between her legs - with conversational lines like "well, he came about five minutes ago" to her boyfriend on the 'phone, and then a superfluous "I wasn't supposed to tip you" to the delivery guy in question, whereas we all know what's coming next - he licks her to orgasm.

In the second
scene, we see him taking her from behind. Again, she is on the 'phone, but this time we actually seeThat TV's straight out of the '50s! the pizza. Because pizza is important, apparently. And it provides a few gags along the way - "pepperoni and sausage" being a rather obvious one, topped only by "hey, don't stuff yourself" and the customary "oh, I don't think I could take another inch... I mean, another bite." And the third one - in a radical departure - we see her riding the delivery guy, declaring her intention to become a nun, then thanking her boyfriend for some flowers - which the camera then slowly pans to at the end of the scene.

So - the good points. Well, we know what the main attraction is here: Maya Divine. As a porn star, I'm pretty sure
she's well-accustomed to giving it all she's got in terms of body movements, but as these are intentionally humorous scenes, they are exaggerated even more than otherwise - not to a ridiculous degree, but enough. Vocally, her performance is initially a bit off-putting, because rather than overdubbed moans she lets out a series of very high-pitched squeals, but I actually think that adds to the fun. Her speaking voice isn't anything particularly special, but it suits the character (or what little we see of her) and the idea of a telephone conversation preceding the main event is a nice touch - a cliché, yes, but a well-executed one.
I think you can see Jesus in a picture up there.The music is suitably light-hearted and even a parody of itself in some cases - the fake saxophone jazz in the first two scenes is standard softcore fare, but in the third scene, it's some sort of weird bouncy thing - almost like muzak in some ways - which you'd initially think might get really annoying, but makes me smile for some odd reason. And the décor is suitably characteristic of suburban America, but let's face it, it's probably someone's actual house, isn't it?

The only thing I don't really like about these scenes is Masterson himself. I know he's playing a nameless, ineffectual character and his only job is to have sex with Divine, but to be honest, a lot of the time he just looked kind of bored. You could argue that he's a buff, attractive man who thinks nothing of sleeping with slightly older ladies on his rounds, but to be honest I'm not sure he's really feeling it. On the few closeups you get of this guy, he just assumes a face which is a composite of confused and that which they make in Jizz In My Pants. It's not really that sexy.

Nevertheless, I like these. I've actually deigned to download them after I got some free download credit from one of the sites I used to use. They do turn me on, but in a more effective way, they do make me laugh - and laughter, gentle readers, can sometimes be sexier than any pizza-related sex you want to throw at me.

I probably won't be buying the DVD though. I still can't get over someone called "Schnuit".

Friday, 20 April 2012


Back in those heady days of three weeks ago when I was unemployed, I put on and wear the same clothes for the whole day. A radical concept, I know, but it worked for me. I never changed out of school uniform when I came home in my childhood, because what need did I have to change, were I already wearing clothes? The same philosophy followed me through Life, only whereas once I was wearing a white shirt and dodgy grey trousers, now it's one of my hilarious T-shirts and scrappy blue Chinos, or something similar.

Until I started work. Now I'm wearing a selection of casual shirts and trousers which range in exciting colours from beige to more beige, stretching to the giddy heights of black at certain points. Good (well, less bad) as I may look in a shirt (even if the fact that I'm still a bit porky is more than evident), it's not something I want to rock at home. I have various shirts, and by and large they're comfortable beasts (ref: the one I wore to Eroticon; sub ref: the one I wore to my first Erotic Meet), but some of them - including my old school shirt - are a little constricting, and after a day or so of having been hung around my odd frame, a little more than scratchy. By the time I get home, my one desire is to cast off the self-imposed shackles of a day, and throw on the T-shirt of liberation, giving my body the chance to move.

But I don't, because frankly I can't be bothered.

What I do is put on my pyjamas. This is odd, because I don't wear these for much else. I sleep naked, usually, and if it's really cold I'll keep my T-shirt on or something. Pyjamas are there as an emergency standby, which I use for holidays, costumes, special events and that rare occasion where I have a shower at any point before the hour preceding bed. But over the past week I've taken to changing straight from clothed self to pyjama-clad self at nine o'clock (or thereabouts, it's not like I time it). Why? Well, it's easy. They're light and comfortable and you don't even need to bother with underwear, so I have that short window of full-frontal nudity while I switch outfits; a bit like Cutie Honey, only not as heroic. Or maybe more so.

Anyway, my pyjamas have another benefit: there is a large convenience hole right in front of my crotch (deliberately so; it's not like my UNUSUALLY LARGE PENIS ripped a hole in it or something). This makes it less convenient if I get an erection, but on account of the fact that I rarely venture out of my room in my pyjamas then it in fact reverses that effect - a testament to the laziness of ILB, perhaps, evident insofar as this renders it possible for me to masturbate while still wearing what is effectively a full set of clothes - read as: "while my legs are still warm." And so, wonder of wonders, joy of joys, I am finding it increasingly easy to slip back into ILB mode when I re-enter my hallowed domain, through the simple expedient of slipping into something a little more comfortable and, dare I say it, a lot more sexy.

And, of course, it makes the semen easier to clean up, as well. Except for last night. Last night I took a nap covered in my own cum.


Tuesday, 17 April 2012

TMI Tuesday: Skillz

Post #800!

It's TMI Tuesday, and in a wonderful break from tradition, I'm actually doing it on the correct day! The questions are all about super secret special skills. I don't really have many of those apart from being able to hold my breath for about two minutes if pushed, hold a note for an inordinately long time and list all the chemical elements in a rhyme. None of those are in here, but let's do the questions anyway.

1. Do you know how to pick a lock? Have you ever used this skill to gain unauthorised access?

No. And no. My fingers are skilled, but I'm not sure I'm either dexterous or devious enough to pick a lock. I'm pretty sure it's really difficult - although what I have done at one point was jimmied open the holder of a pair of binoculars at a theatre because I was too tight to shell out 20p. That's kind of like a lock. Alohomora!

2. Do you know how to open a safe with a rotary combination lock? Have you ever used this skill to gain unauthorised access? What did you find?

No. But I've played enough third-person-perspective point-and-click adventure games to be able to understand the theory. I'm sure with a stethoscope I'd manage it eventually. Which may come in handy if my parents die in a freak yachting accident, because their wills are in the safe upstairs and I don't know the combination...

3. Have you ever made a copy of a key you were not supposed to have? Did you use it to gain unauthorised access? What were you looking for? Did you find it?

Not entirely. I was sorely tempted to make a copy of the master key to my university's halls of residence. I'd declared myself king by that time anyway, and nobody minded, so I'm sure strolling around with a master key would have been the bee's knees. But I never managed to hold onto one for long enough.
Being lent a master key for a few seconds gave the the crazy idea to write, direct and star in a film about a university student who became obsessed with taking, or making copies of, the keys to everyone's room, and eventually becoming the undisputed ruler of the campus. It'd be a black comedy and incredibly popular. Needless to say, I didn't even begin to write it, but I have the film poster in my head. I'm probably too old to play a university student now, though.

4. Have you ever stolen or guessed a password? Did you use it to gain unauthorised access? What did you do?

Yes - at one of the places I used to work. I was in a library and the computer was locked. I typed "library" as the username and then just guessed "books" as the password. Guess what? It worked! How original.

5. Do you know how to get data from a computer that requires a password you don’t know?

No! Although it should be something I actually know how to do, being a geek and all. But I've never actually managed it. I guess the closest I could get is hammer F8 really fast when a computer turns on and copy files via the command prompt. Do new versions of Windows even still do that? See, that's how quickly I keep up with technology.
My new job took three days to sort out a Windows password for me. They made a system one really quickly (my name with a number after it - wildly original), but didn't realise after I explained it to them in a very loud, slow voice that without access to Windows, there wasn't any point giving me a system password. Turns out the Windows password is really easy to guess. I'd probably have got it eventually anyway.

6. Do you know how to record a telephone call? Have you ever done so secretly? Did you hear anything interesting? What?

I don't technically know how to do this, but I know where the speakerphone button is on my 'phone, and I know where the record button is on my dictaphone. The only call I've ever actually recorded was a job advisor one, where I was about to 'phone to get some "free" CV advice. 47 told me that although it was free, they'd only advise you once and you'd have to pay to hear any more. It was worthless advice, but I recorded it anyway.
Of course, answering machines used to use microcassettes, which could be fun, as you could line those straight into an audio jack and record them onto your PC. Mane's little brother used to make rap electronica tracks with the intros to songs remixed with repeated lines from the tapes. "This is Steve, Steve, Steve Mack, calling for Si-si-si-si-simon, mon, mon Hick," and stuff like that. Amazing.

7. Have you ever used a webcam or nanny cam to photograph someone secretly?

Nope. And I don't even know what a nanny cam is.

8. Have you ever used an infra-red camera to photograph someone secretly in the dark?

What is this, Kaori Shimizu's Semen Game of Death?!

9. Have you ever learned anything important by deliberate eavesdropping?

Yeah - loads of things. I've had the feeling that my parents are talking about me a lot of times, and most of those times, they usually are. It's not always very kind but I can eavesdrop really easily by lying on my stomach on the stairs. To be perfectly honest, though, if I want to know what my mum's really thinking about me I can read her diary. I know she thinks I don't know about it but she leaves it lying around. It's a list of things that she's "grateful for" and I rarely ever feature.

10. Do you know how to hot-wire a car?

Nope. I've seen it in movies and stuff but I'm really unsure exactly how it works.

Bonus: Have you ever been paid for your sexual skills? What skill(s) did you perform?

I actually had to think about this one. No, I've never been paid for my sexual skills, nor have I paid to use them, before you ask. I mean, I've used them on people for free. I'm just that nice.

Sunday, 15 April 2012


You know how chocolate is meant to pump up your sex drive? Like, it releases endorphins and that fires off pheromones to other people and makes you feel more ready to transfer affection and thus increases your lust for sexual activity and all? Yeah? Well, it isn't working for me. I think it's having the opposite effect.

Don't get me wrong. I haven't lost my sex drive. But I have been having an awful lot of chocolate recently - mostly due to the fact that originally I was expecting to get one Easter egg from my parents and ended up with about six - and, what with the man flu and the working from home and all, I've eaten quite a bit. Hey, it's chocolate and it's free, I'm not going to complain... even if I do prefer sherbet lemons.

So I got back from The North yesterday and after an evening of Sorting Shit Out and so forth, I went to sle... well, bed. Ostensibly to sleep. I didn't sleep. I didn't masturbate - that's what I'm trying to say. To be fair, I had had a large orgasm the day before, wherein the cum hit my neck and Cath licked it off like some form of reverse vampire. By this time, there was such a build-up of chocolate (white, in the shape of a love heart and decorated with some swirly red stuff that thankfully wasn't cochineal) that one would think any form of sexual indulgence to take place today would resemble some form of volcanic kinetic energy in the shape of male ejaculate substance production.

It wasn't. I did masturbate, I did orgasm. I even did so to soft porn, which as we all know I love, especially on a Sunday. I just realised half a second too late that I wasn't really feeling it. I had, essentially, cheated myself of a really satisfying orgasm by... well, having an orgasm. I'm aware that not every orgasm involves scented candles, rose petals, pink sheets, lace and soft focus, but at least I usually make sure I'm in the mood before doing so. Chocolate hadn't been the trigger. It may well usually be, but it wasn't here. Or there. Or, let's face it, anywhere. Unlike a heffalump or woozle.

Despondent and lethargic (also odd, because chocolate contains a lot of sugar), I realised it was well past six by this point, and that what I actually should be indulging in was food of a more savoury nature. So into the kitchen I went, emerging with a tray laden with a floured bap cuddling a modest amount of Camembert, a pile of ready salted low-fat crisps, some toast and hummus for dipping, and a cup of steaming hot tea. My normal lunch, sure, but after I supped at this cup of bland depravity, I almost immediately felt my energy rising to a peak once again.

I didn't try to masturbate a second time. But I think I've just found my aphrodisiac.

Friday, 13 April 2012


In answer to your unasked questions, this week I am working from home... and by "home" I mean "my girlfriend's house", and by "working" I mean "cuddling my girlfriend". I was commuting daily only last week, and it already seems worlds away. Mind you, I may as well not have a job at all if all I do is cuddle. I am doing work, on and off, and other work-related things like getting Cath's printer to work so I can actually hard copy some of the stuff I've been doing.

Thing is, I'm not in a position to do much of anything right now. I've been struck into near-perpetual silence by a bout of man flu, and with it comes nausea, retching, vomiting, and almost interminable coughing. It doesn't make for the most attractive of conditions, really, and Cath herself is proving quite susceptible to malaise, thereby leaving long periods of time where one of us is alert and the other is not. The result? Not so much sexytime as anyone may have thought. There have, of course, been a couple of times wherein my face ends up covered in girlcum, but it's hardly a rip-roaring 24/7 adventure into massive sexual activity territory.

That's not to say I've not being enjoying myself. I have. There've certainly been a lot of cuddles, and sometimes it's a good warm cuddle an ILB needs, especially if he's full of cold. We've been indulging in shared masturbation sessions and there's always the opportunity to slip a hand between some indulging part-Greek legs. And then there are the trips we can take together - specifically, to sunny Bradford, where we found a museum in which I forced her into watching an episode of Knightmare and geeked out over some computers from the '70s. So, yeah, I have been having a good time up here these frozen wastes. I've just not been feeling well enough to have the best of times.

Probably because I haven't been doing as much work as I'm supposed to be doing. If I believed in karma, I'd say it was a bitch.

Monday, 9 April 2012

TMI Tuesday: Love, Hate & Guilty Secrets

This week's TMI Tuesday is about love, hate and guilty secrets. I am aware that I'm answering these questions on a Monday, but I'm going to the North to see my girlfriend tomorrow, so I'm doing these questions now. Formatting this post also took longer than writing the answers - ph33r!

1. Food
I love sherbet lemons. They make my mouth hurt and they're bad for me, but they are still absolutely delicious.
I hate mushrooms. I can't eat them. They make me throw up and even the scent of them being cooked will make me heave and gag.
My guilty secret is premade cheese and onion sandwiches. They don't taste good, they're clearly really fatty and greasy and they come in heat-sealed plastic boxes from cheap shops. But I am addicted to the bloody things.

2. Apparel
I love my James shirts. T-shirts make me feel good because they're comfortable and often warm and snug, and so obviously it stands that shirts branded with the logo of my favourite band are my favourite ones.
I hate things branded with fashion labels, like Moschino, Ralph Lauren, Bench and Superdry. I'm sure they're nice clothes and all, but they're far too expensive and I don't see the point.
My guilty secret is my T-shirt. I keep it in my wardrobe and occasionally I wear it, but I can't put it in the wash in case my parents see it!

3. Books
I love all kinds of books, but my favourite genres are children's fantasy, sci-fi, and (predictably) sex memoirs. I'll read just about anything, though, and work my way through books as often as is possible.
I hate books about comedy. Comedy is funny, but trying to write about it isn't. Books that are funny are a different thing entirely.
My guilty secret is that I have never read Pride and Prejudice. I know the story and I have read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, but I've never read the original. I've just never really had the interest.

4. Songs
I love alternative rock (James, Barenaked Ladies), indie pop (Architecture in Helsinki, Patrick Wolf), some girl singers (Taylor Swift), electro (Cuban Boys, Little Boots) and comedy (Mitch Benn, Flanders & Swann, Tom Lehrer).
I hate garage music. I think hip-hop lyrics are pretty good, and some rappers are really talented (GLC make music funny in a wonderfully original way), but garage in itself doesn't really do it for me. I think it's just a boring genre.
My guilty secret is Baby by Justin Bieber. It's actually a really good song, and I have recently covered it. Twice. No, really.

5. Movies
I love Battle Royale. It's original, fast-paced, and wonderfully deep, with some great examples of humour, action and pathos. And it's Japanese. Wonderful stuff.
I hate Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. What an overrated, boring piece of drivel this actually is. I know it's well-directed and has good acting and whatever, but I completely zoned out watching this. It's just really, really dull.
My guilty secret is that I own the Powerpuff Girls movie. And it's actually really good, as well.

6. TV Shows
I love Glee!
I hate reality TV. Seriously, who actually watches Big Brother and enjoys it?
My guilty secret is Eggheads. I'm known for liking intelligent quizzes like University Challenge and Only Connect, while I laugh in a scoffing manner at teatime quizzes like Pointless and Countdown. So I shouldn't really like Eggheads at all... but I do.

7. Celebrity Crush
I've said it before and I'll say it again... having a celebrity crush is a particularly cruel way of telling your other half that they're not good enough. Thus: skip.

8. Music Group
I love James. Throughout their history from 1978 to the present day they've always had a perfect song for every occasion. Fantastic group with a great ethos and very talented musicians. They also have the best bassist in the world, Jim Glennie.
I don't hate any musicians, because any sort of music is designed to suit a particular taste. But I am disappointed with Belle Amie. I know I had a dream about dating one of them at one point, but I know that their tragically short career has resulted in dire manufactured pop, and the one time I saw them on The X Factor (my parents watch it all the time, so it wasn't my choice), they looked like they would be really good at more close-harmony singing than what they've ended up doing.
My guilty secret is that I think The Scaffold are the best group to ever come out of Liverpool, and I'd rate them above Wings, the Bonzos, GRIMMS, and even The Beatles, even though I like all those other ones.

9. Sports Team
I love Quidditch. Although I've never played it.
I hate sports. And I particularly hate how so many people seem to like them - especially things like football, where it becomes a religion. And things like fighting, which can sometimes result in injury, division, discrimination and bullying can often come from one particular team. It's stupid. And ridiculous. These players change teams for no apparent reason all the time - and it's just a game, people!
My guilty secret is that some of my university... well, not friends, just people I knew... started a football team and named it after me. I never went to see a single game because I was totally uninterested. I was more interested in the fate of the football team my friends in the sixth form started called Norfolk In Chance (wildly original there) and laughed my head off when they were thrashed 3-0 in their first game.

Bonus: Sex Position or Sex Act or Fetish
I love giving oral sex. I absolutely love it and the different ways it can be done. I particularly like the way the thighs close around my head and the feeling of the vagina as it gets wetter and wetter as my tongue explores all the areas, openings and parts of the labia. And I think I'm probably quite good at it too, judging by all the orgasms...
I hate daddy/babygirl roleplay. It makes me feel really weird. I don't really like roleplay at all, actually - it makes me feel as if you're wanting to have sex with someone else, and that seems wrong to me.
My guilty secret is a secret. And I feel guilty about it (even though technically it isn't anything too bad!), so I'm not going to share it here. No, really!

Sunday, 8 April 2012


I had this really odd fantasy in bed last night. As you may be aware, I was ready to catch up of a week's worth of sleep, and I could hardly breathe, let alone move, by the time I got into bed. My labyrinthine mind was still alert, however, and ready to put anything into effect. Having just seen Hanna, I was ready for uncontrollable thoughts about blonde teenagers shooting people... but instead, and a pleasant surprise it was too, a fantasy about sex with my girlfriend presented in my mind. One that I wasn't even aware I had.

But I remember it. It's the setting that was so strange. There was a very large, very spacious pink room. Everything was pink. Pink walls, pink carpet, pink door. There weren't any apparent windows. And there was no furniture or anything apparent at all apart from, in the centre of the room, a large pink bed, perhaps one and a half times as wide as a king-size double. Because of the size of the room and the absence of anything else, your eyes were drawn to this bed. I was looking down on it at a sort of angled bird's eye view.

In the middle of the bed, there was myself. I was lying on my back and completely naked. On top of me was my girlfriend, Cath, riding me in the reverse cowgirl position (so I could see her face, boobs, front and arms, but not her back. I couldn't see my top half at all, but as with the position, my legs were apparent). Her hands were behind her, presumably flat against my chest (if that's possible) or holding my sides or the sheets. She was leaning back a bit, so she was arched forwards, and - this is the unusual bit considering my fantasies are usually in softcore mode - you could see my cock sliding in and out of her. Not in its entirety, but you could definitely see a bit of the shaft every time she moved up and down. She was moaning. Her hair, of course, had spilled down to my chest.

That's it. That's the whole fantasy. It didn't go anywhere other than that. The whole thing was constructed in a split-second and took up residence in my mind for quite a while. It was made memorable by the shocking abundance of pink in the room, the absence of anything other than the bed, and the very precise details of the sex depicted.

Yes, it seems unusual. But fuck me, that's a good fantasy to have.

Saturday, 7 April 2012


I've got a week of holiday starting soon. Okay, technically it started on Thursday evening, especially as what I was meant to do at work was cancelled at the last minute and I got to skip off home merrily in preparation to dress up as a dark wizard and spend an evening in the company of Robinson, who was only wearing boxer shorts, and Mane, who wasn't wearing anything except a model horse. Towards the end of the evening, I was trying to explain the difference between a rent boy and a male stripper.

Stranger things have happened.

Take Friday, for example. That was pretty strange. It started as a pretty standard Erotic Meet, with the added quality of Louise and without some of the regulars who, for one thing or another, couldn't make it (it was, after all, Good Friday). I wasn't reading this time so I was ready for a relaxing evening, maybe a few hugs and drinks, but overall sitting back and doing basically nothing. This concept lasted for all of ten minutes, before I volunteered my services as a compère for the evening's entertainment.

I've no idea why I did it, but I'm glad now that I did. There were only three acts (but they were all brilliant in their own special way), so I knew I'd have to pad it out a bit. With basically nothing prepared in my head, I bounded onto stage and ejaculated, "Good evening, good evening, good evening, good evening, good evening, and welcome to April's Erotic Meet! I'm Innocent Loverboy..." There was a cheer.

I had to improvise a bit. Okay, a lot. Sarah took Shalla's bra off. Miss Ann Thropist filled the void (quiet at the back!) nicely with her comic sexy poems. Molly did her entire set chained to Mia, who stood there looking pretty and confused. After every act I came on and rapidly made something up on the spot. Massive thanks to God here, as through his grace I didn't clam up (except when I pretended to have had three orgasms in a row) and I always came up with something to say! But, as with usual, I felt at home on stage and was greeted with this lovely tweet when I checked out Twitter this morning. So kind!

The world phased slowly into existence a few hours ago when I found myself in my own lovely, warm, comfortable bed, with which I am attempting to get re-acquainted. Upon realising that I had an erotic writers' meet to get my arse to, I jumped out, threw some inoffensive clothing on and sloped off to London, where I rejoined some of the usual crew and some interesting others - poets, prose writers, The Joy Of Sex's Susan Quilliam and, er, Molly - where a lovely amount of food, water, and tea - oh dear Glod, such lovely tea! - was shared over a discussion of how to write sex. Like a mini-Eroticon, perhaps... except without that amount of books. Not quite, anyway.

And tonight I'm going back to Mane's house for pizza, movies, and general debauchery. I think. I won't be debauching. The others might - more so if the young raver's changed out of his suit yet. On Thursday evening it looked like he'd spraypainted it onto his body.

So. A rather disjointed post, then, but in my defence I've had a rather disjointed few days. Spending a couple of days next week doing nothing but sleeping might be a good idea, and going to see Cath for a while may also be a good idea, so I'll get working on that. But for now, I'm jumping from event to event on high-powered energy and not quite running out yet. Not quite. Nearly, but not quite. If I start to evolve into my next stage, a being of purely awakened sexual energy, let me do so. After all this, an upgrade is well overdue.

Wednesday, 4 April 2012


I've been in this job for barely a week and already I'm feeling the twitch. Not to leave, or to change anything (although I might need to start bringing a camp bed to satiate both the want of something to do during the three-hour-or-so break I have in the middle of the day and the general haze of tiredness that I found plaguing me this morning), but to give in to my primal urges and sink back into the world of blogs and e-mails and Twitter and... well, general ILBness... that keeps me going.

I am well aware that when I feel down and out (and in this job that happens every now and again, of course), I simply remind myself that I am ILB, and that makes me feel like I have more of a sense of self-worth and stuff. And, of course, it's not like the idea of the ILB blog was to write about sex while I'm not busy with work (which is the reason you find me writing this post on a work computer in my break). But, with a few small exceptions, for the past year-and-a-half I've been out of work, and apart from actually putting any amount of effort into things every once in a while, it's almost a solid time period of just being ILB. It's difficult to throw myself in at the deep end and not feel the call to tap away at a keyboard and craft my post every once in a while.

Of course my evenings are different. I went to the Distraction Club last night and, although that's not a purely ILBased activity, it was ILB who promised @MsClara three hugs. And this weekend I have not only the Erotic Meet, and the proposed meetup of the same group on Saturday, but also Mane's little brother's birthday party (for which I really do need to sort out a costume tonight, as it's tomorrow and I need to get one ready if I can) - although, again, that's not an ILB thing.

I was standing in front of a group of clients today. They were all busy doing whatever it is they do when they're not addressing me directly and I found myself staring, not at them, but at the computer terminal. I opened GMail, and automatically typed in my ILB GMail address, as opposed to either of my others. Why? I don't know. It just happened. And so I checked and replied to some e-mails. I'm sure that nobody can begrudge me that, especially as I used private browsing. Nevertheless, it did feel a bit naughty, especially as I was checking the e-mail address that's got a large stockpile of naked pictures of my girlfriend a few clicks away. Not that I looked at any, of course... just in case.

And so I feel the twitch. What does a sex blogger do at work? Secretly update blogs? Have sex with someone via text while in a board meeting? Not wear any underwear? Shamelessly browse Tumblr? Masturbate in the toilets or, if you're feeling daring, at your seat? I really am very poorly-versed in this sort of thing, although I see it mentioned all the time on Twitter... what people are doing to stay sexy at work.

But I'm feeling the twitch. So, with limitations considering what I do... suggestions, people. Suggestions.

Sunday, 1 April 2012

Sex Meme

Sort of tagged by Rory. She got e-mailed a set of questions and tagged me with the admission that I didn't have to answer all the questions. Let's be honest, five of the question slots were to list celebrities you wouldn't kick out of bed, and typing N/A five times makes for a dull meme. So here's the edited version.

I cut some other questions out as well. Mostly they don't apply to me, but if you really want to know, there's nothing to stop you scrolling backwards through the blog. Nevertheless, I just can't throw away a chance to talk about me. here goes...

underwear & lingerie

Do your bra and panties match? If you’re a guy, do you prefer it when a girl wears matching underwear?
I don't wear a bra. Heh. Matching underwear... no, I don't think it's absolutely necessary. To be honest, pretty or novelty pants make me laugh. But my current girlfriend doesn't wear a bra so it's not really much of an option!

Do you wear patterned underwear?
Occasionally, yes.

What is your favourite colour when it comes to underwear?
Blue. But simply because it's my favourite colour.

Do you wear skimpy underwear? If you’re a guy, do you like this on a girl?
Not so much, actually. Either regular underwear (all right, maybe a bit tighter than usual but still, regular underwear) or a bare bum is nice, but things like G-strings or thongs... I don't see the appeal. They're just a little pointless!

Do you like bows, lace or other décor? If you’re a guy, what do you prefer on a girl?
Bows, yes. Lace, yes. Other décor? It depends. Entirely on the person.

Have you ever worn underwear meant for the opposite sex?
Who hasn't? (Seriously, I'm asking.) Anyway, yes.

When was the last time you woke up without any underwear on?
This morning, as I almost always sleep naked.

What sort of underwear would you put on if you wanted to surprise a boy- or girlfriend with it?
One with a picture of a big scary monster on it going "Rah!"

What would a boy- or girlfriend choose to wear for you?
I suggest you ask her this one?


What’s your favourite song to have sex/make love to?
I don't really have one. I haven't had sex to music too often. Shall I just put a funny answer instead? Okay then: Prodigy - Smack My Bitch Up.

What’s your favourite sound that your partner makes in bed?

Ever said something stupid when you were trying to be sexy?
"No, that bit doesn't go there!" Actually, I don't think I've ever said that. I once assumed a Cockney accent for no reason, which didn't work too well.

Do you like dirty talk?

Are you quiet or loud?
Virtually silent, but then again, I'm half angel so I'm a higher power and communicate through touch and thoughts. I like sex noises, but as I'm really quiet I like to be with really loud people to balance it out.

Would you mind your parents/neighbours overhearing you having sex?
Yes. My neighbours have children under five, as well. Whoops!

turn-ons and turn-offs

What about your partner turns you on the most?
Her eyes, her smile, her boobs, her bum, her back and her sexuality. Also her hair, which (although it's annoying) is really lovely.

What’s your biggest turn-off?
Violence - I don't mean light bondage or playful spanking. I mean things that actually hurt, like whipping, flogging or hitting, or especially violence towards other people or especially animals. Various "specialist" kinks, like scat, golden showers, incest, rape and degradation also turn me right off. And I've seen enough of daddy/babygirl fantasies on the blogs to really not like that one any more, either. Well, I say "any more". I've never liked it.

Do you like body hair?
Yeah. It's natural, so why abhor it?

What’s the sexiest part of your partner’s body?
Her eyes are beautiful, her hair is lovely, her vagina is soft and delicious and her bum has a lovely curve to it, but I'd have to say her back.

Is there any part of your body you’d like to hide from your partner?
My stomach. I hate it. It's too fat for the rest of my body, which is generally quite trim around the shoulders, arms and chest. But then again, I'd like to eliminate my moobs altogether and get rid of the red patch that forms when my thighs rub together. However... if it's your partner and they're still in bed with you having seen all that, why hide anything from them? Embrace the naked body... and theirs, obviously.

What sexual position is a turn on for you?
Please don't say I'm boring, but I like the missionary position! It allows for a lot of speed, depth and control. I like the reverse missionary position as well, as there's the chance for a lot of speed during that one - good if you want hard and fast sex.

What’s a location you never had sex in, but want to?
The forest. I appreciate it might be scratchy, or something, but yeah. Then again, a beach or a natural hot spring would be good too.

have you ever...

Walked around naked in your own home, without a real reason to? (getting undressed and then walking to the shower does not count)
Yes, of course.

Had sex when there was a risk of someone walking in on you?
Had sex in a bedroom with an unlocked door, yes.

Made out during a movie, and let your hands wander?
First part yes, second part no.

Made out or had sex in the water? (your bathtub doesn’t count)
In a hot tub, yes!

Kissed someone you wish you hadn’t?

Slept with someone and regretted it?