Tuesday, 29 October 2013

TMI Tuesday: Express!

So, yes. I wanted to do TMI Tuesday this week, but the blog itself wouldn't load for me. I had to filch the questions off Hedone's own blog to get them... but filch I did. It's all about sexuality... and expressing yourself!


1. Can you tell when your lover is close to having an orgasm? How can you tell? What are the signs?

Generally, yes, I can. There are a few signs: a shudder, a noise, a "yes...", gradually increasing pressure from hands and thighs, and others. However, the most vivid memory I have of sending an impending orgasm is from one instance of giving oral sex. I felt a "spreading" sensation from the vagina to which my mouth was attached. I instinctively knew it was the female orgasm, although I'd never experienced such a feeling before. It was a good cue to keep going, though!

2. Ladies: have you ever seen your g-spot? Men: have you actually seen the g-spot?

Nope. The g-spot varies according to person, but in many cases, I find it to be deep enough inside to not see, unless you happen to be very good at contortion or have those special eyes that Superman's got.

3. Which sexual position do you find most stimulating?
a. missionary
b. woman on top, facing man
c. doggy style
d. other – tell us about it

Missionary. It's easy, simple and allows for lots of deep penetration, plus the chance to see who you're making love to. I have nothing against astride (b), doggy (c) or any other position, but this one's my favourite.

4. When you orgasm, are you:
a. silent

b. make a little noise
c. yell out!

Almost always silent, to the point of it being even a little surprising at points! This includes during sex, although I like my lover to make a little noise. Hypocrisy, me? Never.

5. A lover orgasms quickly, way before you are even close to having an orgasm. Do you stop the sex once he/she has had an orgasm or do you continue sexual play so you can orgasm too?

It depends what mood I'm in. In most situations like this, I'd bring myself off manually, so she can watch and possibly bring herself to another orgasm (nothing wrong with two). But I'm try to gauge how the mood is as well - I'm not sure there's anything wrong with more sex, even after an orgasm... unless it starts to hurt; then I'd stop!

Bonus: On average, when you masturbate how long does it take to reach orgasm?
a. Less than 3 minutes
b. 3 – 5 minutes
c. 5 – 10 minutes
d. more than 10 minutes

Usually it lasts about 20 minutes; sometimes more, sometimes less: there are a number of contributing factors, including when my last orgasm was, how horny I was beforehand and how hard I was "feeling" this orgasm (the best ones always happen when I'm totally lost in the moment). There have been a few shorter ones, obviously, but I've always - ever since my first few orgasms - taken a while over it.

Monday, 28 October 2013


The storm woke me up at 5:30, and by the time 7:30 rolled around, I was ready to get out of bed, even before the first of four alarms conspired to irritate me to the point of enervation. Rising, dressing, grabbing my stuff and braving the winds to catch the bus to the nearest tube stop (not trusting National Rail to have their shit together due to the small amount of rain we're having) - it was all a small matter for me. I was energetic, and yet I hadn't quite realised it yet.

Getting to work was a breeze, and throughout the morning, I found myself possessed of a sort of manic energy: showing off to clients, bouncing banter off the administrative staff and (when required) jogging up and down stairs to collect various things other people had forgotten. It was only when I actually realised this that I began to use it to my full potential, and I was practically effervescent - even verging on cheerful - when lunchtime rolled around. And a good lunch it was, too.

Pretty surprising when it was just a random collection of stuff I found in the kitchen last night.

Anyway, the afternoon session probably wasn't as fun. But I kept going. I was in and out of my chair umpteen times and yet I still felt able to entertain, inform and co-operate, all while cracking my absolutely appalling jokes to boot. An unintentional dispute with the administrator followed, through which I held my own pretty well, I thought; I had a temporary dip on the bus ride home but still practically danced down the road to Buenos Aires from Evita.

I can do this. I am able, I am willing. And I can do this!

And how am I now? Frisky? Horny? Cheeky? Well, all three. What I'm not - or at least not yet - is tired.

The crash will come - of this I am doubtless. I'm not even sure I got any sleep last night. But it's not here yet. And while I'm still holding it off, I should very well make use of it.

I plan to.

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Introducing tobacco to civilisation

I last went to Erotica three years ago, and although I went for a different reason this time around (to socialise, rather then genuine interest in the event), I probably wouldn't have gone if I hadn't won tickets for all three days from Bondara. Along I went, anyway, and I was (in many cases) pleased I went, despite still not having much of a genuine interest in the stuff displayed.

One thing I did enjoy at Erotica was the presence of a stall for the authors and editors of Smutters fiction, and related stuff. Here, I felt at ease - what with people I've met enough times before (including Lucy Felthouse, who was nice enough to mention the fact that I give good hugs; apparently, I do!) and a wealthy collection of erotic fiction I've had contact with, through virtue of my owning a couple of the books, having read one or two and a story by my girlfriend being featured in one of them (she signed it, too!).

The rest of the exhibition was a bit bland for me - I wasn't too interested in the collection of stuff available for fetishist folk, although I appreciated it for what it was; unlike last time, I didn't see any of the shows, because the venues were too crowded for me to see anything; I couldn't afford much (but still bought a trial subscription to a geeky porn website and, erm, a potato); and even though I'm genuinely unshockable in many cases, some of the stalls weren't really to my taste.

Leather, for example.

Having said that, I am glad I went, indeed: I got to reconnect with the lovely Emma Whispers, the effervescent Annie and Stu, and the mighty mighty Cara Sutra, amongst others. And - this has to be said - I really liked the venue. A disused tobacco dock, retaining its olde-worlde feel while being used for modern purposes. Seems weird, but it really seemed to work, and the bits that didn't have stalls in (some subterranean tunnels, for example) were very atmospheric. Impressive - and a better place to hold Erotica than the Kensington Olympia, which seemed even more corporate.

So, yes. I went to Erotica. It was okay. I'd have appreciated, of course, more (some? any?) focus on softcore (there wasn't any, again, and it's definitely relevant enough to warrant at least one company!), but my hopes for that weren't particularly high... although that didn't stop me putting it into the suggestion box. I hear that next year they are doing it twice. Will I go? Maybe. It all depends, of course. But at least I had fun this time.

I've still got a ticket for tomorrow. Any takers?

Monday, 21 October 2013

Sharing of Information

Over the weekend I attended one of the best events I think I've ever been to: a training weekend focusing on sex education, run by a group I'm involved with and containing various workshops on subjects relating to sexuality and sex ed... mostly with the focus on reaching out to young people. This included a session run by me (which wasn't really my intention to begin with, but it turned out being really fun) and plenty of discussion and games.

Oh, and genital cupcakes.

I didn't live-tweet the event as we were in a wireless black spot (although I managed to get a couple of pictures on Twitter), but I took plenty of notes. I don't think replicating the notes verbatim would be much help here, but for those of you who are curious, here are some of the things I wrote down which I felt were particularly inspiring, sub-categorised according to the workshop in which I took the note.

UK Law
- Consenting adults are defined by capacity (and the ability to consent) - under-13s cannot give consent. 16 is a (vague) age of consent for all genders; 30% are active before that age
- Countries with lower ages of consent have an older average age of sexual activity for various reasons including improved sex ed
- Child protection has very little to do with consent; two consenting 14/15-year-olds having sex is not strictly illegal unless one is not ready. CSA doesn't happen as much as Daily Mail says

UK Law on Confidentiality
- Everyone has a right to confidentiality of any age
- Parents are the last people who ought to know; if you believe a child is at risk, you can't really be confidential about this, but try to involve people before the parents are involved... if at all!
- Children are sexual: we all have our own bodies, including children, who are curious
- There is NO law on what you can and can't talk about, so take advantage of that

Sex and Religion (my workshop)
- Religion is a sensitive topic and Sex is an important topic, and vice versa; there is a crossover in every case
- "Don't they all disapprove?" Answer: No
- Those who feel stigmatised by the more conservative aspects of their religion should be able to find more liberal outlets with like-minded people: the internet is a resource to do this, as are meetups of those (cf. Spiritual Space)
- Faith in God should equal faith in oneself due to the belief in a creator; faith in the environment (eg. Wicca) should be the same as we are constructs of nature

Mental Health in Young People
- Mental health well-being links to sex education and sexual health well-being
- MH happens on a chemical, emotional, physical, social and spiritual level; an imbalance can cause a reaction and be labelled a "syndrome" - not all terms for MH problems are helpful
- Our aim is to make sure young people feel they have the ability to access the help they need, as opposed to feeling helpless and hopeless (YOU ARE NOT ALONE)
- Stigmatisation happens through lack of care: de-stigmatisation is a good aim

Queer Question Time
- Sex is your physicality, genes, etc.; Gender is a social construct, assigned to you at birth
- Trans used with a * as a wildcard character to be able to be inclusive of all trans* people

Eating disorders, body image and confidence
- Body positivity: think about famous people vs. people you actually know / compare people in magazines, football WAGs to rugby WAGs who were lambasted for "dressing down"
- My mum doesn't look like a Disney princess, and neither does yours
- Finding positives in yourself, rather than your ideal: use bits you are confident with!!!

Plenty of stuff to chew over there, maybe some stuff some people wouldn't agree with, I know. As I said, this is only a snippet of the stuff I got: it was a massive event for something lasting only a day and a half. But a lot of these things I found useful, so I thought sharing them on my blog would be the right thing to do.

And the sharing of opinions is always good.

Thursday, 17 October 2013

Review: PULSE

A month or so ago, I was contacted by Hot Octopuss to ask if I would care to review an upcoming product: the PULSE, something already causing a bit of a buzz in the sex toy world, if their website is to be believed. As you may (will? should?) know, I'm not overly a fan of sex toys, but this one looked very good, and may have been the one to change my mind. Was it?

Here's the review.

Looks a bit like a vagina, on reflection.
PULSE is a male sex toy (a "stimulator", apparently). Unlike the REV 1000, which is a "male masturbator", the idea of the PULSE is that you fit it around your erect penis (you can put it through a hole or open two "wings" at its sides if you're already erect or too big to fit through the hole) and it creates a vibrating sensation designed to stimulate you to orgasm. Sounds familiar, but I was willing to give it a go. It also has functionality for couples, as you can use it during sex or for foreplay, but the lady needs to be on top for that, according to the diagrams.

Admittedly, I fail to see how that works at all, due to its size and shape, unless both of you are very flexible. But I digress.

Keep Calm and Review This Product
The box design is... well, very... black. That's pretty much all it is, save for the top of the box with the Hot Octopuss logo superimposed over a stock model photograph, and the promotional bumph down the side, points separated by the crown from the "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster. There's a picture of the PULSE, avec crown, but as that's also black, it's easy to miss. And some diagrams straight out of Science Now! that I read in year 7. Still, the packaging isn't the same as the toy inside, so what's that like, ILB?

I tried masturbating with this about three times. The design of the PULSE allows for a flaccid penis to be put inside first and then stimulated through vibrations until it's erect, which I did first off. It's made of silicone (black, again) with a curved, ergonomic design, which I will admit is clever, because the penis fits nicely inside it, and it doesn't slip out easily, even when flaccid. I was also pleasantly surprised to find that I initially enjoyed the vibrating sensation emanating from the spot where it... well, emanates from, I suppose. A few dirty thoughts and I was erect, which boded well for the rest.

And here, it ended.

It passed the first test, sure. I had my erect penis inside it and it was working perfectly well. Controls on the side of the thing allow you to cycle through five intensities of vibration, although all of them are quite strong. The intention, clearly, is to allow you to have a hands-free orgasm either solo or with your partner. But it's not a masturbation toy - that is to say, you can't grab it and move it up and down, even with lube - it stays in place. I could stimulate the tip of my foreskin with my index finger, but couldn't get to my shaft, which I suppose was fine. Hands-free orgasm it is, then.

Fifty Shades of Black
Gasp of horror: I didn't have a single orgasm while using this. Why? Well, as with every other sex toy I've used, there were just some things that didn't work with me at all, no matter how aroused I was (and I was very aroused).

The first is the sound. While vibrating, it makes an annoying buzzy sound a but like someone's trying to strangle a Stylophone. While not as loud as some other toys I've seen and used, it's still very audible, especially if you're using this in silence, as I was. In fact, the further you turn up the revs, the louder it gets. Even discounting the "will the neighbours hear?" factor, it's very distracting indeed, and difficult to ignore if you're trying to construct a fantasy in your head, as I was.

It also doesn't really do the hands-free thing it promises. If I didn't use my hand to steady it (realistically, both hands; it needs both thumbs to keep it balanced properly), it just flopped down at a weird angle, which was uncomfortable, especially with a hard penis. Whether sitting up or lying down, I was incredibly aware that most of my concentration was going on keeping it upright, because although it's comfortable inside the thing, if it's not in the right position, whatever's outside won't be!

Something else I noticed may or may not be unique to me. The PULSE is meant to be one size fits all, but it didn't quite fit my full erection at all times. I don't know if my penis is too big, or the wrong shape, or whatever (although I doubt it is either!), but the head was too far out of the other end of the PULSE (wherever I positioned it), and all the vibrations from the centralised "hot spot" here focused on the middle of my shaft as a result. It wasn't unpleasant, but bits of my penis weren't getting enough stimulation to make it a massively pleasurable sensation all over. If I pressed my penis down at a specific point (causing a worrying grinding sound), I could actually feel it growing, probably caused by a combination of the vibrating and the pressure from my thumb, but left to its own devices and the PULSE just let me down. I could feel myself going soft without any hope of climaxing. Very disappointing.
View from the top - or TIE pilot's helmet.

And the one final thing which I really don't like: how my penis felt afterwards. Left desperate for a release after spending far too long trying to orgasm with the PULSE, I decided to bring myself off using my favourite sex toy: my hand. As soon as I grasped the shaft of my penis, I could tell something was different. It was warmer than usual - much warmer. It was also much, much less sensitive than it usually is (and mine isn't very sensitive to begin with), and it took me a while to orgasm with something little more than a warm lump of flesh. It was an almost frictionless wank, and although I did eventually orgasm from it, I could hardly feel the orgasm itself - notably, the pleasurable pulsations while actually ejaculating were barely noticeable. Also very disappointing, especially since I wasn't wearing the thing at the time!

So, yeah. Another sex toy that failed to make me orgasm, and a big disappointment, considering the hype and the thought that's gone into this one. If I'm actually going flaccid while using a toy, rather than getting ready for the promised "most intense orgasm you have ever experienced", then it's clearly not working. And I tried. I really did. I tried it lying down, sitting up, kneeling. I tried it while flaccid and while erect. I even tried visual stimuli and physical stuff too, like touching my nipples or cupping my balls. It just didn't work. I was barely even close.

Would I recommend the PULSE? No. I'd recommend it, perhaps, for something to use as a prelude to sexual activity - because it elicits an erection well enough. I suppose, if you need an erection, this would be a useful toy to have on hand. But I don't imagine many people would need to do that if they can get the right stimulus with another toy (or, indeed, their hand) or just by having sexy thoughts, which is what happens to me!

Not unexpected, really, considering my usual experience with sex toys, but still disappointing, nevertheless.

And I really wanted that orgasm, too...

PULSE (with PulsePlate technology), kindly provided by Hot Octopuss. Available soon from stockists worldwide.

Wednesday, 16 October 2013


I was horny. More, perhaps, than I'd care to admit at the time. Maybe I was just disguising how much I wanted to have sex by being playful. In any case, I pushed her back into the bed and dry-humped her for a while, both of us laughing, thrusting and (in some cases) wheezing, if one bit went in the wrong place. This is it, I said to myself, this is the indication that we need - I mean NEED - to have sex. Like, now. Right Now.

Then I threw up in my mouth.

Only a little. Enough to remind me that @VixOEN used to have that as a tag on her defunct blog. But it was certain: I'd almost been sick in my own mouth. My thoughts changed to something resembling, Ewwwwwwww! What the fuck?!

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, continued my brain as I dismounted my confused girlfriend, racing to the bathroom at roughly the speed of Billy Whizz on crack. I vomited violently into the bowl, surprising even myself at how manly the roars of pain and lack of breath (and, of course, embarrassment) sounded. But that was nothing, compared with the sudden and terrifying realisation that I may have developed some sort of sudden allergy to dry-humping my girlfriend.

And if I can't do that, I reasoned while washing my mouth out, then I can't dry-hump her any more! And then how will I manage to indicate to her that we absolutely need to have sex? Ignoring the fact that indicating casually works well enough, I almost - almost - went into a proper panic. What if we can't even have real sex? That didn't bear thinking about. But there was only one way to test this theory...

Half an hour of oral sex seemed to work moderately well. That is to say, I think it did. It's difficult to tell with her thighs clasped around my head and her hand in my hair, but I take that as a good indication of things. And, despite one sneeze (for which I turned my head; I doubt I'd ever get to do oral sex ever again if I'd sneezed into her vagina), I didn't seem to be allergic at all.

I was SO pleased.

After the successive marathon sex lasting so long I have no idea how to indicate a time, I was even more pleased. Of course, my initial plan to have a shower last night didn't happen, but I think lying in a mass of tangled limbs, sweaty bodies and mixed cum may perhaps have been preferable.

Certainly put my mind at ease, anyway.

Sunday, 13 October 2013


There was a slight ripple at the curtain, and for a while, sufficient illumination appeared from behind a cloud to throw some silhouettes into sharp relief. A booted foot appeared.

"What are they doing behind there?" I enquired.
"THEY'RE HAVING SEX!" everybody shouted.

That was, of course, the standard response. I was collecting quotes and I knew enough to elicit that response. I'd written it down even before they said it. It was still gratifying to get about 25 people saying so.

As far as I'm aware, they weren't actually having sex. But it happened. It never involved me, of course. I was just a casual observer - an onlooker. I was there when we strategically shone our torches onto a tent in which it was happening. I walked into a room to find my geeky friend holding onto a pipe on the wall to stop falling over with laughter after finding two people having sex in a sleeping bag.

Maybe people's laissez-faire attitude helped a little with all the sex at these things. Nevertheless, despite what people thought went on, there wasn't as much sex as there could/should have been. It's just that... that's what one reports, because it's fun.

Here's another example. Rather than a question and answer, there's a statement.

"I'm hosting this event, along with Owen," said Anna, "who's currently having sex with Kate, so he's not here right now." There was a shout of laughter, but not really any amount of disbelief. It didn't matter to us. People had sex. Fine.

I'm seeing some of these people next weekend as we spend three days discussing sex education. It's been a good few years. I wonder if, in the intervening time, people have gotten older and less active. And if they still use strawberry condoms.

Thursday, 10 October 2013

Sleep and Death

These wounds are all self-imposed
Life's no disaster
All roads lead onto death row
Who knows what's after?

Today is also, according to a client at work, World Day Against the Death Penalty. This is also a serious issue.

Obviously I'm 100% against the death penalty. I don't kill fleas and I wouldn't dare condone the slaughter of any living animal. A human is no exception and, because we understand human language, it's even worse. "Two wrongs don't make a right" has long been an adage and yet some countries - realistically a lot of countries - seem to be forgetting that: a fact that was driven home when Texas executed a pen-pal of my English teacher's for a murder he didn't commit. He was in his 30s.

I once saw a softcore film set on Death Row. It was absolutely hideous and the only reason I watched it was because nothing else was on and I wanted to build upon my knowledge of soft porn. Now that I think about it, I'd rather not have seen it at all. The only scene I remember is that of a condemned prisoner sucking a woman's nipple, which had been coated with a toxic poison. He was electrocuted the next morning by the same woman while in incredible pain from said poison.

What's sexy about that? Put me back on a spaceship with pleasure-focused GELFs any day.

In these troubled times with murder and corruption making them headlines, there are people calling for hanging to be brought back (it's actually still legal in Britain, for high treason or piracy in the British waters, but I doubt that's going to be put into practice). But that's folly; it's never worked and it never will. Hang Saddam Hussein, he becomes a martyr. Shoot Colonel Gaddafi, The Sun prints their least tasteful front cover yet. The death penalty doesn't work and it's not in the least humane.

That's two rather disjointed posts about issues which aren't really sexy. But they should be addressed, and if I can do so in my own small way, then I should.

And so I have.

Waltzing Along

Help comes when you need it most
I'm cured by laughter
Mood swings, not sure I can cope
My life's in plaster

Today is, according to Twitter, Mental Health Awareness Day. Evidently, this is very serious. Everyone, I think, has a varying degree of mental health issues; there are just different ways to deal with things and also a varying amount to which people will admit to having mental health issues.

I am free and easy with my mental health. I battled depression for years and still have bouts now. When I think too much, and I do that a lot because I am intelligent, I feel sad. This, I know. Am I OK? No. I'll never be OK. But I'm coping.

What I have is neurosis. I am very particular about tiny things: words that I don't like to see spelled out on a page. Things mentioned that I don't like. Things I don't agree with on blatant display. I can spin out words easily enough - I managed to get my mother to support anti-censorship this evening even though she doesn't agree with porn for some reason. But part of me always wonders if I hide behind words, use them to create a mask: have this cool, sarcastic and loving exterior that hides a bundle of nerves inside.

But that's not how it works. I wear my heart on my sleeve. When I'm upset, I'll say that I'm upset, something that I understand all too well is difficult for many people with one of the varying spectrum of things that could be termed mental health.

I can't say much else. I have the scars of self-harm on my right arm and a multitude of unresolved issues with past failed affairs that I'll never have closure upon. It's difficult. I've wanted to end it all. I tried once, unsuccessfully. But I've talked people off the edge. H, 47, Esque, Mini... I've been called by, and called, them when I can lend my calming voice and hope that they don't jump, for my sake. And they never have. 47 is still in Germany. H is becoming a doctor. Mini and Esque got married (not to each other, but yeah).

I'm not dying of depression. I'm living with it.

Sunday, 6 October 2013

Soft Porn Sunday: Shannan Leigh & Micah Bradshaw

Shannan Leigh has this thing... I'm not quite sure if it happens in every scene she does. Probably not. I don't really care, anyway. It happens in VOSF and in this one, and that's what I'm reviewing. Needless to say, it's the same thing. She plays two characters. One is the one who has sex, and the other one wears glasses.

Hooray, segregation. Some genius in the Surrender studio came up with the idea that if you wear glasses you are automatically a different character, and therefore totally unidentifiable to the entire audience: probably the same people who recoil in shock when Clark Kent takes off his glasses halfway through Superman.

The same genius probably came up with the plot for this film, too. Because it's... well... weak.

Appearance: Platinum Blonde (2001)
Characters: Stella Crenshaw & Jake... erm... Jake. Doesn't appear to have a second name.

I'd better explain (No! Really?) that Platinum Blonde doesn't really have much of a plot. It's a wraparound encasing a few little vignettes of steadily declining quality. Holly Sampson plays Angela, "a Cupid" - thanks for destroying the entirety of Greco-Roman mythology, Surrender - whose job it is to watch other people getting romantic and having the sex, and according to her, occasionally getting involved, which is their excuse to shoehorn a sex scene with Holly Sampson in somewhere.

Which isn't what I'm going to review. I just thought it was interesting to mention, and also expound upon my theory that this film is a series of Surrender off-cuts that didn't quite get made into real films, with the idea that naked Holly Sampson is reason enough to watch it.

Which, of course, it is, so no complaints there.

There's a plant growing out of your back, dude.
Anyway, this scene takes place on a snooker table. Kindly excuse me while I go and press the snooze button on the cliché alarm. Although I'd imagine it's difficult to film sex on a snooker table due to the angle and the fact that they appear to be incredibly flimsy. Anyway, it's happened enough times in soft porn, so I suppose somebody must think it's a great idea. The scene stars Stella Crenshaw (Leigh) and Jake-couldn't-afford-a-last-name, played by Micah Bradshaw, who I often get confused with Jason Schnuit. They tend to star in the same stuff and they're both generic man actors, so that kind of works. Jake doesn't have a personality, so that fits nicely, as well. It also doesn't matter why they're having sex. It's probably not even explained. It just happens. Works for me.

Right, so Stella Crenshaw lays back on the table with Jake Doesn't-matter-had-sex approaching her from above. They're both wearing rejected outfits from The Matrix and spend a while taking them off while kissing enthusiastically, but only after a hilarious joke which involves Stella accidentally lying on some balls, and then laughing, "your balls!".

Give me a second.

No, wait. I haven't finished holding my sides from how funny that joke is.

Comedy gold from start to finish.


Okay, now I'm in an oxygen tent, I can continue the review. So, after that quip that would put Russell
Hide your face, Shannan. They won't know it's you.
Howard, Eddie Izzard and David Mitchell all to shame, a rock soundtrack starts up and disrobing ensues, watched completely indiscreetly by two characters who aren't bothering to hide: Angela, and another character who they didn't even bother to name, Miscellaneous Character 216 (Leigh again). "Oh my God!" ejaculates MC 216, adding to the scintillating dialogue that peppers this scene. Sampson doesn't appear to have any dialogue, but that's okay: I wouldn't know what to say to someone watching themselves having sex either.

Stella has some sort of seizure on the table, giving Nameless Jake time to take his jacket off. The rest of the taking-clothes-off bit is really quite routine (there's only so many ways you can get naked,
"Help! I can't breathe!"
really, but it's usually prettier than this), until J__e puts his head between Stella's boobs. I'm pretty sure that's unscripted; Bradshaw probably doesn't want to be seen or something. There's a lot more pointless touching bullshit for an inordinately long time that manages not to be sexy, and even the incredibly brief cunnilingus doesn't work on account of the fact that Stella's still wearing pants at this point, so unless J*** has a fabric fetish, that makes no sense. Of course, every now and again they cut back to MC 216, for no reason whatsoever. Fills up time, I guess.

Whatever. 01:28 in and we finally get some sex, with Stella sitting on top of Mr. ______, handily indicating the fire escape in case things get too steamy as she does so. After a while, she finally takes her pants off and we get a few seconds of laughter from MC 216 cut with something close to doggy style sex, something which - to Shannan Leigh's credit - she appears to be quite good at, because she can work a facial expression well enough and rocks back and forth to make it sort of credible. Don't know too much about Bradshaw - he seems to be enjoying it a little too much. Anyway, I like this bit, so obviously it goes by too quickly and then we get some more goddamn kissing in the same position with which they started. What, have they only got the one camera setup or something?

Missionary sex now, with some head-and-shoulder shots, cleverly angled to remind everyone that this
Fire! Everybody out! Even you, Jake... Thingy!
is on a snooker table, so that's totally subversive. I usually like missionary sex in soft porn, but this is only okay, really - I mean, it kind of works, and Stella still has her shoes on, a nice touch. But it may benefit more from some different body shots rather than bouncing heads and one final shot - meant to be an orgasm but you can't really tell - with Stella trying to do the YMCA with her legs.

And that's it.

It's not bad. It's not bad at all, really. It's just not good either. There's a lot of promise in this one, and both actors here are usually entertaining to watch (they have their own scene together in VOSF, in which he plays another misnamed character from legend). It's just got a lot of flaws. It's too short, the angles are a bit skewed, and they're not really using the setup to its full potential. MC 216's presence is capitalised upon a little too much, the person who seems to be having the most fun is the guitarist on the soundtrack, and even the décor on the walls is a little too bland. There's a snooker club near where I live, and it has scoreboards and posters and... well, stuff you need to play snooker.

You know what? Now I look closer, I've got it all wrong. 

I think this is billiards.

Thursday, 3 October 2013

It's always the ones you least expect...

"I have never been to Africa."

I took a drink. The amount of lemon Fanta in my blood had increased exponentially since the start of the game. I'd never noticed I was so sordid. Mind you, I don't think anyone else had noticed. Everyone else was drunk.

"Everyone else is drunk," I said.
"Alex isn't," said Hannah.
"Yes he is."
"'M not drunk at all," slurred Alex. "Ah, 'm perfectly okay to... THERE'S A FLY IN THE ROOM," he finished before becoming unsonscious.
"Who's next?"

"I've never kissed anyone in this room."
"I've never had sex with anyone I met on the internet."
"I've never had sex in a bed!"
"I've never had sex in a tent."
I didn't drink, mournfully this time.

"I've never learned how to play a musical instrument."
Three drinks, one for each instrument so far. (I didn't drink twice for guitar and bass; it seemed a moot point. I also didn't drink for piano - having not actually continued playing that after my teacher made my hands hurt a lot. Robinson had the same sentiment.)

The I-have-nevers continued around the circle until they landed on Saoirse, who sat in her quiet bubble in the corner with what may well have been water in her hand. I'd rarely even heard her speak, although she'd always been nice to me. She was nice to everyone, mind you, although she seemed to be the most conservative of all of us, mostly because she kept her clothes on. Rosie was regularly naked before the end of the camp. Several times.

Often with several men.

Saoirse cleared her throat. "I have never," she whispered in a soft, musical voice, "kissed anyone without having sex with them afterwards."

There was an awed hush followed by a few nervous whoops and a sudden respect bordering on reverence towards poor, sexy, desirable Saoirse. Although nobody drank. Clearly this was too much, even for us.

"Fair enough," she rustled. And took a drink.

Tuesday, 1 October 2013


Jilly posted recently about an article she'd read about what the first book she masturbated to was. It got her thinking, and while she wrote a post about it, I think I'd struggle to do the same thing.

Because I honestly can't remember. I didn't read a lot of erotica in the past (I don't even read much now!), and although I read all the famous sex memoirs and then some, I don't remember the first book I masturbated to, although plenty put me in the mood and I'm sure kickstarted a lot of very gratifying wanks.

I remember a few books I did masturbate to, including the third volume of the Battle Royale manga (you won't understand unless you've read it!), Fanny Hill (there's a bit about that here) and some others. It's just not a very long list. I've been turned on by various things - bits of practically every book, ranging from The Man In The Rubber Mask to Adolf Hitler: My Part In His Downfall to Catch-22 - but there's no one book I can remember wanking mercilessly over. It's just... something I don't think I've done much.

I sound like a philistine, especially when one should be aware I've spent many an hour with my penis gently encircled by my right hand in the company of soft porn to which the quality varies and my imagination, fertile as it is. May I just point out that I love the written word? There are things written down that get me going more than any visual stimulus, and in all truth, it's often at the point of climax that I have a word or phrase rattling about in my head, just to tip me over the edge.

I could show you logs of cybersex that I've been sent over the years. I could point you to various tweets that have set my imagination off. Anything that starts off a spark, an idea, a concept, all seemingly with the aim of making me cum. There's plenty there.

But as for the first blog that I masturbated to... well now, that would be telling!