Thursday, 30 January 2014

Eroticon 2014 Introduction Link Q&A Thingy

With five or so weeks to go until Eroticon 2014, I tweeted Ruby Kiddell this morning to ask if there would be an Eroticon introduction post form, like there has been for the previous two Eroticons. Lo and behold, she comes up with one! Thanks, Ruby!

Anyway, I've done this before, so let's see what my answers are like this time around. Read, if you will, and then hop over to the post on Write Sex Right and see who else has deigned to answer these crucial questions...

...and see you all at Eroticon!
What’s your name?

Innocent Loverboy... or "ILB" if that's too long to remember or you just want something quick to tweet or type out. It's three poxy letters, so hardly too taxing.

What are you most looking forward to about Eroticon 2014?

The same thing I looked forward to about both previous Eroticons... a good chance to catch up with friends and allies from the community. I love the sessions - writing and sex ed and advice and networking are all well and good - but, most of all, I love the social atmosphere of the sex blogging community. I've been part of it since 2007 and it still finds ways to amaze and amuse me.

What are you most nervous of about Eroticon 2014?

I've no idea. A lot of people are mentioning falling over in front of a room full of people, but then I did that last Eroticon, and took a bow to laughter from the audience. (Well, what would you do, eh?). Of course, I'm bound to make a faux pas, or (as I'm me) say something totally non-serious which everyone takes seriously - as that is what happens with me - but I'm not nervous about that. I'll just take it in my stride.
I'll be nervous about missing anything, though. It's why I always arrive early and plan and stuff. I don't want to miss a single thing.

What do you hope to get from Eroticon 2014?

Inspiration for writing, material for a host of blog posts, lots of hugs from people I adore and admire, and to make people laugh if I hit my stride (or sit there with a vague smirk if I don't).
The thing I like more than anything is meeting people, though, so what I'd hope for the most is to get connected and spend time in a big room surrounded by amazing people. I have the feeling that that won't be difficult.

What is your bad erotica writer’s pen name?

According to the chart, I'm "Purina Lovebucket Zoneout", which sounds to me like a brand of cat food made from weed. Hooray me!


Sunday, 26 January 2014

Soft Porn Sunday: Shyra Deland & Christian Boeving

One defining characteristic of softcore films produced by Surrender Cinema is the lack of vocal sound effects during the sex scenes themselves. By which I mean, of course, that there are very few (and in many cases a total lack thereof) moans, grunts, shouts of joy, praises to the sky and other strange sounds that, apparently, people make during sex. (People make sounds during sex - who knew?) With that in mind, I tried to think of one that was anomalous to this trend.

Surrender, to its credit, manages to make scenes sexy without people moaning through a combination of expressive facial expressions, music that synchronises with the scene, and a bright gloss over the scenes which show (nearly) everything, in contrast to other film series, like Emmanuelle (which relies heavily on noises carrying the scenes over quite routine music) and Russ Meyer's films (which mostly rely on Prince Igor for some reason).

Here's one which doesn't do that.

Appearance: Andromina - The Pleasure Planet (1999)
Characters: Roxie & Jeeter

I've mentioned Andromina twice before on this blog, so let's skip the plot (it's not important, anyway).
Loosen your belt, dude.
Very little of the action takes place on Andromina, despite the title. This scene happens on the planet whose name I don't remember - the one populated entirely by women where our three heroes go to recruit strippers for Andromina (told you the plot wasn't important). They get separated, and while one is captured by a "savage" tribe (racist much?!) and one by a "futuristic" tribe, Jeeter (Christian Boeving, credited here as John Matrix) hits the jackpot, being found first by a civilisation convinced that the first man they find will be their eternal king and leader forever and ever, amen.

Okay, let's list the problems with this concept, shall we? On the highly unlikely off-chance that any babies are conceived on a planet with no sperm produced anyway, surely there would be male babies, and therefore shouldn't they be kings by default? Or does that not count? Do they just kill all male babies or does this tribe not reproduce? And if not, why didn't they die out aeons ago? Has nobody on the planet seen the gaping flaw in their philosophy? And where's the feminist agenda? Why can't a woman be the leader, seeing as they've coped for centuries perfectly well already? Explain, movie! Explain!


Jeeter (which, let's admit it, is a stupid name, matched only by his actor's last name, "Boeving")
Breath play: ur doin it rong
quickly takes charge of the tribe, but only after an initiation ceremony by one of the girls named Roxie (which is an Earth name, surely?). Well, I say initiation; it's more like "much sex". You probably saw that one coming a mile off, to be fair. Although the first bit of the scene involves Roxie feeling up Jeeter's penis, there's obviously a massive difficulty in getting her hand under his belt, as it takes them twelve seconds before one line of dialogue is spoken. Brilliant acting there. Well done, guys.

The first few minutes of this scene aren't particularly special, but they're kind of hot, in a really odd way. There's a massive contrast between the actors' bodies, though: Shyra Deland is small and slight, whereas Boeving is hulking and covered in muscles which probably shouldn't exist, making Jeeter roughly the size of Centre Point. Kisses, disrobing, more kisses, and a few random things happen before sex kicks in, which is a strange position, actually: her sitting facing away from him and riding (although he looks like he's controlling it), with him sitting up behind her, too. It looks like a fun position, but not very practical.

Drugs: just say no.
This then cuts to standard doggie style, which works to the scene's credit, as it uses both actors to their full potential: Roxie appears full of energy, and Hulk's-twin-brother Jeeter works well just kneeling there like a rock with an array of "damn, I'm huge" expressions on his face. There's a bit of hair-pulling (not really my thing, but...) and bouncing boobs before Roxie goes into anaphylactic shock and they switch to oral sex.

No, seriously, there's no other feasible explanation for the look on Roxie's face.

The simulated blowjob is pretty well done, although it helps that Jeeter's legs are the size of oak trees (it does go on a bit too long), and there's even some simulated cunnilingus, which isn't quite as successful, but at least it fills up some time. And then we get our SURPRISE OMG LOLZ!

Up until 04:12 (out of a scene lasting 05:09), there hasn't been any background noise, just music based
WWF got more popular once this was added.
mostly on temple blocks, something which sounds a bit like a xylophone and wonderfully incongruous electric guitar. But the instant we switch back into actual penetrative sex, there are the aforementioned vocal additions to such a degree that it's actually quite alarming. The final minute-of-so of sex has them both standing up (well, Obélix is standing up - Roxie's just being held up by him, the sad thing being that I actually believe that could happen), and someone suddenly turned Deland's microphone up, because we get the following, in chronological order:

(i) Breathy sounds.
(ii) Breathier sounds.
(iii) Something similar to sounding a bit scared.
(iv) Gasp! Gasp! Gasp!
(v) Uh... aah... aah...
(vi) One very vocal "aih!".
(vii) More assorted noises.
(viii) Breathy sounds.
(ix) Things which wouldn't sound out of place in Japanese porn.
(x) "It's good to be the king" from Jeeter. I can't believe they left that line in.

Not all of us sing during sex. Only some of us.
I've taken the piss a bit, but I actually do like this scene. It's pretty standard in all aspects apart from the male actor being the size of Jupiter and the vocalisations at the end, but it's the vocal additions that make it different from all other Surrender productions I've seen. There isn't anything else like it, and it does make me wonder why they decided to deviate in such an obvious way from their tried-and-tested formula. I suspect that they heard Shyra Deland's voice, which is perfect for the "sounds a bit like I'm scared, but it's actually an orgasm" line that most softcore goes for during sex scenes. She's perhaps a bit overenthusiastic, but it does portray an orgasm in an effective way that would be hard to visually show with both actors standing up.

And it's certainly more arousing than Virgin Snow, at any rate.

Saturday, 25 January 2014

Do you like legroom?

In between my first and second year at university, I returned to my bedroom over the summer holiday. It had an interesting Guantánamo Bay feel to it, completely bare of wallpaper and (in some sections) carpet, on account of the fact that my parents had stalled halfway through redecorating (having appropriated my old room for themselves) - although the nest time I saw it it was, as my sister so eloquently put it, "fuckin' amazin'".

I enjoyed being back in my room. A bit rustic though it may have been, it was a bigger space than the box-sized room I'd had in hall at university, and living at home, I got to take advantage of both the things I'd left behind and my dad's tea-making skills. Lack of a desk, though, meant that I didn't really have anywhere to use my computer, and so I have jumbled memories of putting my laptop on the floor of the living room, lying on my belly to type, as well as propping it up on the kitchen table, having it on my lap while sitting on the sofa and (most often) just having it open on the end of my bed.

One of the things I remember most about this was the problem and solution of masturbating to porn on my laptop while both myself and said device were on my bed. I had the volume adjustment down to a fine art (there was a little dial on my laptop, actually, very useful for quick volume change), there just wasn't a lot of space; it was a single bed with enough room for one ILB and I wasn't keen on ejaculating over my laptop.

In any case, I do remember how I solved this, and it required CONTROL.

On this occasion, I was sitting cross-legged watching something quite unlike me to watch: hardcore, starring Japanese AV idol Kaori Shimizu. I was, in fact, watching something called "Leg Fetish Volume One", although I wouldn't say I have a leg fetish, really: it was just easy to download and quite pretty. I squinted at the low-resolution depictions of "THE EROTIC STORY OF GIRL LEG 2" and so forth, and after about 45 minutes of intense frustration that no actual sex had been happening, there was a sex scene with sexy sex, and that got me off.

Just as I felt I was about to orgasm, I leaned back. My cum shot over my stomach and chest, not a bit of it endangering my laptop or threatening my bedsheets. I was so pleased.

That became my ritual during the rest of the holiday. Open bedroom window (I didn't bother to close the curtains; maybe I should have, in retrospect - people see things through windows), get naked, get horny, adjust volume on laptop. Position laptop, position ILB, start up video(s), grip shaft, move hand, lean back, ejaculate over self and then panic because I forgot to get some tissue beforehand. Profit. Eventually, this developed into masturbating over other things - sex chatrooms, erotic-ish fiction-ish, porn both soft and hard downloaded, oh my!. I was 19 at the time, more virile, very keen, and I hadn't had sex for a long time at that point - so I kept on going.

And going and going and... you get the point.

Once I returned in my second year, I was in a room in a share house with much more space to stretch my legs, and crucially with a desk, so I could peacefully wank in my computer chair. In fact, I think that that was the year I possibly did so the most, but then who's counting?

Don't answer that.

Thursday, 23 January 2014

Journey Planner

I wonder where this girl sitting opposite me is going.

The train's in almost total darkness, the occasional streak of light permeating the tinted windows coming from a house or pub that we pass. The only time we are truly illuminated comes when we pull into a station. This girl (huge glasses, red hair cascading down to her shoulders, unique selection of clothes - a vision of perfection) leans over and asks her neighbour where we are. Her neighbour answers and I listen over the music from my iPod.

I watch the girl looking at her reflection in the glass. Where is she going?

My first thought is that she's going home. To be honest, that's probably where she's actually going. But then, I think, what if she's not? What if she's going somewhere else? London is huge - there are plenty of places to go.

My next suggestion is much more exciting. What if, I reason, she's off for some clandestine rendezvous with a new lover? Maybe this is why she looks so nice - she may be glowing with excitement or trepidation. Maybe it's even the first time she's meeting a lover. Were it me doing so, I would be sure to check my location at every given opportunity, just to make sure I know where I'm going.

She smooths her hair and looks distractedly at her phone (maybe there's an illicit text there?). I tug nervously at my suit. I look like I've come from a business meeting, although to be honest, I have, so that's not unusual. We pull up to a station about halfway through the line and she gets up, almost gracefully, but with a nervous twitch about her. I mouth a silent goodbye and... she's gone.

Why her? I have no idea. But I just got something about her that piqued my interest. Something different. That suggested to me that, perhaps, there's more than she has to tell about her final destination.

London is full of possibilities. Almost enigmatically so. And I like that about it... and the people on the train too.

Monday, 20 January 2014

Project X

This is going to be a difficult post to write, so bear with me as I try to clarify what it is I'm going to say.

My dreams have been a bit disturbing recently because my exes have been in all of them. All my exes, that is, except Catherine. So... two of them. Including Rebecca, who's been dead now for a while. Although she hasn't really been taking centre stage.

In the dreams (nightmares, really) I used to have about my exes, they all ended up cheating on me; in reality... well... this actually did happen more than once, which is probably what precipitated both it and my general mistrust for girls, something I've been working on and through ever since. Jilly appears in my dreams too; she doesn't cheat on me in them (as far as I can remember), which I can only construe as a positive thing.

For years, though, including the one-and-a-half-years in which I was in a relationship with Catherine, the drinking girl from my previous relationship continually turned up in my dreams seemingly in order to cheat on me. That relationship didn't end very well (although on better terms, I suppose, than that with either Rebecca or Catherine did), but there was absolutely no indication of infidelity on either side, so my brain managed to do so in its absence.

A couple of weeks ago I read a book of poetry that reminded me of TD and how she was doing a Ph.D. on the subject (and how I've said on multiple occasions that one of the things I missed about not being with her any more is that I couldn't go to any talks about the poetry in question!). Considering how a quick Google search didn't yield much, I had no idea if she was still working on it. I took to Google Chat to ask her directly and she told me that she had finished it, yes (so she's a doctor now), and that she was now living in Brussels with her boyfriend.

With my boyfriend. How strange those words sounded or even looked on the screen. That used to be me. (In case you're wondering, I suddenly envisioned Peeta from The Hunger Games.)

And yet I'm someone else's boyfriend now. I'm in a happy, stable relationship with my girlfriend, who I also live with, so I can't begrudge that statement. And yet, for a moment (a split second), I felt desperately unhappy, as if the intervening years between January 1, 2011 hadn't happened, and neither had a multitude of the things I mentioned in my previous post.

So, yeah, she's back in my dreams now, as is Rebecca. Jilly is present there, too, and (thankfully for me) she is always ensconced in her rôle as girlfriend, but at the same time, I'm an onlooker to something which has/is happened/happening, with both girls at points, and although I'm aware of it in abundance, something in my dream-self screams: cheating! cheating! cheating! I wake up, I feel ashamed, depressed, sad, fraudulent, like a failure... and I fall asleep again. Or I don't want to get up.

Why is this happening? 

I'm in the middle of what is probably my best relationship yet and rebuilding a life that took a bit of an emotional tumble since the first of 2011. I flatter myself when I'm saying that I think I'm doing pretty well, considering.

I don't want to have dreams with my exes in. I particularly don't want to have dreams in which they're cheating on me with other people. And I don't want my dream-self to still be in a relationship in which I'm not (apart from the few dreams where Jilly is present, as I've mentioned). It's disturbing. It's upsetting. It's frightening. It brings back all those old feelings I had before, those of not having closure - those of not ever getting closure. No resolutions, no explanations. I'm willing to bet everything I own, including my reputation as a hopeless social misfit, on the lack of closure being the reason my brain keeps bringing me back to this point.

Words of comfort would be nice right now.

Wednesday, 15 January 2014

Ceci n'est pas une porte

I sometimes wonder what might have happened if I took a different path.

Things would be very different if I hadn't started writing ILB. They probably wouldn't be better. They'd be different. When setting this thing up, I hesitated - I even closed Firefox at one point because of all the faff it took setting up a new Google Account in order to use Blogger. But I kept going, eventually ending up doing what I'm doing right now. What would I have done otherwise? What would my life have been otherwise? I've no idea.

I wouldn't have met TD, or Catherine, or Jilly. I wouldn't have made any of the friends I have in this developing circle. I'd have less to talk about in my friendships with H, 47, or Robinson and the crew (although I'd still be friends with them all, of course). I certainly wouldn't have been brave enough, or insightful enough, to go to any of the CCK socials, Spiritual Space, or the SlutWalk. I may not even be as into sexual health as I am.

I'd almost certainly be having less sex. Or none at all.

Then there are smaller decision that I could have made. I could have not gone to Oxford to see TD that one night. It would have led to more sex with snowdrop, who's now married and has a baby and on a path that I wouldn't have wanted to be on myself at this time. I could not have had sex with Jilly the first time I did and our relationship may have started later (or been a non-starter). Alternatively, the different things I could have said or done at Erotic Meet, the people I talked to and socialised with, the things I did, even having Rose stay over for a night to kick my arse at Mario Kart...

They'd all have had their different repercussions.

Every decision I made, every action I've taken, after I started writing ILB, has had a result. Most of them have been good results. There are times when I look back and wonder where I'd be had I made a different sort of decision and gone down a different path, had it presented itself to me. But then I become more confident that I (almost) always made the best sort of choice.

I do miss my old life, yes. But when I look back at the time I (still) consider my most comfortable, writing ILB is always involved. So that was certainly a great decision.

Sunday, 12 January 2014

The Greater Game

I've got to get a sexual reference in here somehow.
I was playing a board game with my family. I wasn't winning, but wasn't doing too badly. Still, I shouldn't really have any idea about that; the rules are about as simple as trying to fathom Sherlock's thought pattern. It's even meant to be played in four parts and, an hour in, we were still struggling to clear part one.

I wouldn't recommend this game. Give me Wario Ware instead, and then we'll talk.

Still, I set myself a challenge. Get as many sexual references in as possible, and I'd reward myself with a cookie for each one. This is before I realised that cookies aren't, in fact, vegan - and therefore the only thing I'd be rewarded with would be a lazy sort of smug self-satisfaction. I get that enough via just being me. Still, I soldiered on.

Dad scored a point.

"What does that mean?" asked my mother, my father, my girlfriend and my cat all at once.

I consulted the rules. They confirmed that every time someone levelled-up in this game, their playing piece (a long, thin post) should be adorned with a decorative "crown" (actually a thin ring of cheap plastic) to denote their level: white, blue, green, red, and gold in that order.

"Okay, so you need to put a ring on Dad's pole," I said.
"Job done!" said my shoulder angel.
"What?" said I. "What did I... oh!"

Life is remarkably easy sometimes.

Saturday, 11 January 2014


It's come to my attention, although I'm not sure if it has yours (although I have no idea who you are, so it may not have done), that not a lot of sex-bloggy stuff has happened recently. Despite all indications to the contrary, and that also makes no sense, so I'll attempt to justify what I've just said.

What I mean, in a rather contrived way, is that not a lot of sex-blog-related stuff has happened to me. The Eroticon bandwagon is chugging away and I, for one, am excited about this one, despite the fact that some drama may have possibly happened and then been averted quickly and humanely. And what with planning the whole thing - hotel, travel, discussion of sessions and speakers and all - there's certainly that to look forward to. Readings (on February 7?), meetups (as and when) and drinks (the day before Eroticon, so I'm not sure if that counts) all satiate the palate a little, but it's not much.

Although I've picked up the pace on having sex more regularly, so yeah, that's... well, that's fricking brilliant, actually.

My brain has been reminding me regularly that I'm a sex blogger in my dreams, although that's no unusual thing: one a few nights ago involved suddenly getting a sub from somewhere (weird considering I'm not a Dom, you don't just "get" one, I was with my friends at the time and her name was Suki; I don't know anyone with that name, so why it would be in my mind I've no idea!) - with whom no sex happened - and last night's also involved being with friends, although we were on a protest against the Coalition Government's cuts and I was being very free and easy with my identity as a sex blogger.

Oh, and Russell Brand was there and he was possibly having sex with one of my friends. Or maybe that was Robin Thicke. I forget which. Minor detail.

Why is there a dearth of blogger activity, in my mind? I don't know. I certainly haven't been writing as much as I could/should. And, notably, a lot of the sex blogs I read have had a lack of new posts. It's a slow period, of course, what with people having had the festive period and the January blues. And although I've been as active as I can with reading and commenting on blogs, it's sometimes difficult to do when there's not too much to comment on.


February has always been the pick-up period in my experience. What with Eroticon on the horizon (it's not the only thing, but it helps) and the fact that a new year's underway and you can't stop it no matter how hard you try, once the year gets going, blogs start getting updated more and more. At least, that's the theory. I think it kind of works, right?

In any case, I'm going to play my part. More posts are forthcoming. I shall, for want of a better word, force myself.

Or I may have to get a sub after all.

Monday, 6 January 2014


I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. We'd been here for quite long enough. It just never seemed as if it was on the cards. We always went to bed tired out. Maybe we were recovering from the multitude of mould and dust that was present in our old room (and still is). Maybe we still are recovering. The bed is like a board, hard and inflexible. It's healthy to sleep on a hard surface. I just don't sleep much. Less than usual, y'know. Haven't been sleeping. Glod knows why.

And then there's the creak that happens when too much movement happens on a sofa bed. The gentle thud on the floor when the legs rise a few millimetres and fall again. My parents aren't too far away - two walls and a hall with a piano in it separate us - but still, it's a worry. I never used to worry about the sounds of sex on a sofa bed. Now they are plaguing my ears.

I didn't think it would happen... and then it just... did.

I mean, I'd been wanting it for. long. enough. Had she? It seems so. What was going on? Was is teasing, extended foreplay or just a physical admission that sex wasn't going to take place? Well, whatever it works. It took place. Were naked, were horny; I (at least) was hard. Positions were taken, there was a lot of moisture. Much wetter than one might expect.

There was a familiar warm, wet feeling as I sunk my penis into her soft folds, feeling her contract around me. I could have sworn, at that point, that she said "thank you". In fact, I'm pretty certain of it. I do like to remember sex I've had, surely. But that whispered "thank you" is what sticks with me about this one instance.

You're welcome.

[Nota Bene: This happened before Christmas. But that's okay. We've had sex after Christmas, too.]

Friday, 3 January 2014

Silver Sandman

My dreams often take things that happen over the Internet and turn them into real life events. I've always said that communicative methods - such as IRC, our dear departed MSN and its usurper Skype - are a more valid way to talk to people than a lot of people give them credit for, and (of course) this now includes Twitter.

This, in some cases, allows me to "meet" people who, for various reasons, I either haven't seen too much, or have never actually met - but have communicated with online. This includes members of the community mentioned here, strangely enough, people who I don't have a visual picture of who I've only ever talked to via IRC. In some cases, my brain brings up people who I have met and like, but haven't seen for far too long. What may usually happen via a chat window thus happens IRL(ish), leading to some of the best, but by far the most bizarre, dreams I've ever had.

The other night, I found myself sitting on a large bed with Jilly. This may not be an unusual situation, all things considered, but we were having a conversation with Silver (aka Bad Kitty) about all and sundry. He was, also, on the bed, which was clearly the cool place to be. This was the online conversation, by the way - there was no physical contact involved.

That is, until Bunny appeared magically out of nowhere. Her I haven't seen for a long time. Silver, ever helpful, identified his fiancée in a shot - "Hey, it's Bunny," he said. Very profound.
Mind you, my reaction wasn't particularly erudite, either. "Kiss her." I think that was about it.

Silver took my advice, however. It wasn't just a peck on the cheek or a greeting snog. He leapt - there is no other word for it - from his sitting position right on top of her, and there certainly was a kiss. An incredibly passionate, enthusiastic one, at that. Possibly loss of clothes - it looked like that sort of kiss. And with that I was pleased... meaning that I not only approve of this relationship, but my brain does too, enough to elicit a dream kiss/possibly-leading-to-sex-but-I-can't-remember.

What was Bunny's reaction? Well, her mouth was occupied. But she gave me a thumbs-up. And I think we all know what that means.