Friday, 29 August 2014

To purr is human

As you'll probably know if you've been keeping track, I've just spent a week house-sitting for my auntie and uncle and two cousins; I did this last year and I've just done it again, both setting a precedent for an annual activity and escaping my parents' house for a short time, both of which are relatively positive.

As I seem to remember, last year's escapades were something of a sexual frenzy, with lots of loud sex, doing it in the middle of the day and in various rooms, with plenty of time to spend being naked and generally taking care of each other with large amounts of skin.

None of that happened this time, and I mean none - we didn't have sex even once, even though I did spend some of the time naked (albeit largely because I was too lazy to get dressed); to be fair, I didn't foresee this being a Thing That Happens, although I could take it in my stride, just about. I certainly had plenty of dreams about sex (although no sex happened in any of them - it was on the cards, though), I just wasn't having any actual sex.

This isn't my fault, nor that of my girlfriend. The blame lies squarely on THIS:

Your soul is mine, human.

This is a kitten named after a field marshal, and she is just about as vicious. While most cats choose a diet based on meat and vegetable protein processed into kibbles, she prefers to subsist on feet and pen lids, causing several amusing hours of chasing her around the house making sure she doesn't choke to death on plastic - followed by several more hours having one's toes mauled while trying to concentrate on Doctor Who. This, of course, continued long into the night; once she had worked out how to headbutt open the door to the bedroom, her arrival would be heralded by an unmistakeable flump and a sharp pain somewhere in your southern hemisphere, be it a foot, ankle or (in one case) thigh.

She was, of course, utterly indiscriminate about when or where she did this, whether you are half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa in the lounge after having a long and crucial meeting at work followed by a long and crushing walk back through the rain, eating a dinner you have worked long and hard to prepare (or ordered from Domino's: I'm not always that brilliant), or being super-affectionate with your girlfriend in the hope of colliding skin with skin. This is her house and she will make the decisions.

This isn't a new thing, but my cat is a little more discerning. In my old house, she would time her scratches on my door to coincide perfectly with the start of my masturbation to soft porn every afternoon. She would meow loudly if I didn't open the door for her. And, sometimes, she would be sleeping on my bed and I'd forget about her, only to finish myself off and turn around to find her sitting up with her judging eyes trained on my face.

But at least she doesn't bite. So she has that advantage over this small but possibly slightly evil kitten.

Still, who was I to assume we'd be having sex? As we all know, unlike other pets, cats don't have owners - they have staff, and it was clearly the boss' decision.

I never thought I'd be saying this, but I'm very glad to be back at SH.

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

Friendship is Magic

Reasons I shouldn't be watching My Little Pony:
- The colours are too bright
- The voices are too high
- The accents are grating
- The storylines moralise too much
- There doesn't appear to be much going on
- Pinkie Pie is really annoying
- Pinkie Pie is really, really annoying
- Oh God, Pinkie Pie
- I'm not a brony
- I'm not in its target audience
- I have much better things to do with my time

Reasons I am watching My Little Pony:
- All of the above

Sunday, 24 August 2014

Back in the saddle

Just two days ago I was asked if I would house-sit for a week or so; if you've been reading this blog for a year or so, you may recall that we did so for five weeks at a similar time last year. Although this is just one week, it's still nice to have a break from SH and dwell on my lack of money and uncertain future in a different location.

I recall making a lot of important discoveries last year in this most unlikely of locations. In a chat room I was directed to social porn GIF-scraping roulette The Worst Drug (I recognise this; it's from Russ Meyer's Up!). I joined the UK Sex Forum and then quickly stopped posting because I got bored with it. I discovered that not being serious can lead to sex, sugar condoms are probably not a thing, some people don't know slang, acting makes me horny, and my sister's best friend is an invaluable soundboard for advice.

Make a cup of tea and read all those, then come back here. Done? Okay, good.

And so here I am, netbook installed firmly in the same place as before and leeching off some WiFi which may or may not belong to the house (I'm not sure). I haven't discovered anything yet other than the fact that wearing stiff work clothes for three days in succession is a really bad idea - as is eating from the Indian restaurant down the road. But I am, to a point, relaxing; I'm taking things easier; I have a lot more space here than I do at SH; I'm sleeping more than I usually do, as well.

Frankly, it isn't quite as comfortable as it was last year - it's colder and I feel a little ill-at-ease right now - but, overall, considering what I got out of the experience last year and all, I do suppose this is a Good Thing.

Stick around. Any epiphanies happen and you'll be the first to know!

Thursday, 21 August 2014

Don't call me doll

When I was 21 I bought a sex doll named Rachel.

I was young, horny and bored. I hadn't had sex for three or so years; I'd just come back from university and I had nothing else to do. I wasn't writing ILB yet; I was masturbating furiously with my right hand to things that I knew I liked, but I wasn't doing much else. Crucially, I was unaware of the whole sex-positive community, really - I didn't read many sex blogs and I didn't really know what sex toys were. I mean, I knew they existed, but I didn't really know what they were for, as such...

With a mixture of anxiety and excitement, I got to browsing and, skipping on the standard options for boys, decided upon a sex doll. Again, I had no real idea - I knew this was a sex toy in the shape of a pretend person; I also knew it was inflatable, but I had very little concept of the fact that it was plastic, like a rubber ring - I hadn't even thought about it, assuming instead that sex dolls were made out of some sort of soft, foam-like substance.

When it arrived, I'd barely even gotten it out of the box when I decided that I had made a mistake - the doll was very plastic, looked nothing like the girl on the packaging, and had a massive open mouth below garishly painted eyes. It looked like I'd bought a dead fish.

"No," I told myself. "No, no, no." By midday, I'd sent it back. I have since never bought another sex toy. But then, I probably wouldn't tend to use them anyway.

And then today Cara Sutra came up with this idea. It's true that I've never really thought about it much - I don't own a sex doll (three minutes doesn't count) and, as far as I'm aware (although with friends like the young raver you never know) I don't know anyone who does. But there are obviously people who do. They are sold and they are bought. So why are they different, exactly?

For a start, I'm not talking about RealDolls, although they are in vogue and now have a UK-based distributor. I was contacted a while ago by the company keen to get me talking about RealDolls; it's not really my sort of thing to promote products, but I am aware of the idea - a silicone-based skin, adjustable skeleton and customisable features - not to mention a massive price tag: it's a doll for the wealthy and those who want a companion. Seaside Slut's recent post had some excellent examples of the kind of thought that goes into their construction.

But what about the blow-up kind? The kind that you inflate and get on top of, the kind that I bought and couldn't use? Is there a stigma? And, if so, why?

From my perspective, eight years after I almost used one myself, I'd still feel a little awkward about doing so. Although a sex doll is, effectively, a pretend person, they certainly don't look realistic enough to actually hold the suspension of disbelief long enough to fool yourself you're actually having sex with someone. I certainly wouldn't be able to. And, from what I hear, the feeling is entirely different from anything you'd experience in another type of toy, your hand, or a vagina. Aesthetically, I don't even think they're particularly pleasing... unless you're a fan of the grotesque... and, in some cases, they could even be considered "wrong" on another level.

Pipedream's "Extreme Dollz" are disproportionate enough (and described as worse!) to be something approaching offensive, in my opinion!

So why would you use one? I don't know, but I'm assuming for the same reason one may use any sex toy - they're designed for sexual gratification. Unlike most toys, they are in the shape of a person, so if that's what you actually want, I don't see why not. But then again, I said no, so why? Is there, as Cara suggests, a stigma? I've seen sex dolls used as a form of ridicule in Fawlty Towers among other things, often characterised as something for sad, lonely individuals in social isolation. Where this idea has come from, I'm not sure - one could use any sex toy as a basis for the same assumption, and this generally doesn't happen - so I'm assuming it has to be the human shape.

I can't, for one second, imagine that anyone at all can believe they are actually having sex with someone while using a Fleshlight or a REV 1000 or a PULSE. To be fair, I'd struggle with a sex doll, too - but evidently it works for some people, if only because there's a face and a vagina where there's meant to be one (or a penis, if it's a male sex doll). But, if there is a stigma, then it's got to be that.

This just puzzles me. While I appreciate that YKINMK, I have noticed something like a blind spot where dolls are concerned. I've never seen one reviewed on a sex blog and no sex toy manufacturer documentary I've ever seen mentions them either. It's almost like dolls are a forgotten sex toy, a relic of a bygone age or something you only have if you are single and absolutely desperate.

But everyone has something that works for them. I don't understand, but then, it's not my place to judge!

Sunday, 17 August 2014

Soft Porn Sunday: Brittany Joy & Jason Sarcinelli

After my shock discovery that wasn't actually a shock of the Emmanuelle Through Time series last week, it only seemed right that I should do an actual Soft Porn Sunday scene review, rather than continuous "ZOMG! SELF-REFERENTIAL! BLIMP!" mutterings. I even downloaded the second film of the series, Sexy Bite, but since that's mostly blithering vampire-related idiocy and more humping the deus ex machina device I decided not to go with that. So let's look at the last sex scene from the first one.

Which, you know, I should have done last week. I just didn't.

Appearance: Emmanuelle Through Time: Emmanuelle's Skin City (2012)
Characters: Emmanuelle & William

Most of the budget went on that beanbag.
Whichever continuity you want to throw at an Emmanuelle series, the title character will always have a standard person-with-whom-to-have sex in the cast, mostly so they can throw in a sex scene or two for good measure. In the original series, it's Jean; in Space, it's Haffron; in Rio, it's... actually, I've no idea, I wasn't paying attention. It's established within the first fifteen minutes of Emmanuelle Through Time that her regular sex partner is named William, and he's even given a job ("He's the captain of the blimp, keeps us afloat"), so he has an excuse to be there. It's also established that he has an "arrangement" with Emmanuelle ("Sex with no strings attached!" - HER ACTUAL WORDS), so hooray for lazy excuse! Humping commence!

This scene happens towards the end of the film, after everyone's managed to return to the real world. Things are back to normal, fifty years of continuity have been retconned out of existence, and the main cast are back on their ridiculous double-breasted blimp. Time to get naked, apparently - preceded by the line, "are you ready for a new adventure?" Absolutely. Bring it on.

Unlike a lot of sex scenes, this one doesn't waste time with taking off clothes and all that malarkey. It
cuts straight from Emmanuelle and William walking off to some shots of the blimp taking off to sex on a squashy sort of beanbag effort that William happens to have in his captain's cabin. (Note the Emmanuelle "E" on the bag - it makes no difference whatsoever, but it's a nice touch!) We start off with sex in the sitting position - nothing new here, but it's nice and bouncy - from various angles including the view from outside the blimp's main window.

Okay, fairly standard so far - but I do like the way it's done. Brittany "Allie Haze" Joy is throwing some lovely faces as Emmanuelle and her smiles do seem like she is genuinely enjoying this; Jason Sarcinelli gives a fair turn as William, but we don't really see too much of him. Mind you, in the second film Emmanuelle has sex with an invisible vampire, so they bothered to hire an actor for this one, showing a little forethought.

An odd shot of the blimp flying over mountains and we then suddenly jump cut to the pair having sex
Bird pendant? She must be a Ravenclaw.
in the same position (or very similar) in front of a weird greenscreen background with clouds billowing forwards like the ending screen to Yoshi's Island and the body of Gypsy from MST3K lying around for some weird reason. I get the fact that they're on a blimp, so yeah, sky. I was completely unprepared, however, for the Doctor Who time vortex that suddenly appears behind them - there's no explanation whatsoever for that. It's just there. There's a little bit more sex and a weird swooshing effect and then the vortex swallows everything. Cut to black.

End of movie. Credits!

Anyway, I like this scene because it's nothing special but it's done well. The music is fairly standard but with some nice electric guitar bits in it (although I doubt it's a real electric guitar), the sex is pleasantly bouncy and there's enough movement to give the illusion of real coitus (but not too much), it's an appropriate length so not too long to be boring... and, although it's a massive "WTF?" moment, the bit at the end with the sky in the background is a nice touch.

I do have a bit of a problem with William - he seems too old and dull for Emmanuelle to actually be
Sunrise? Sunset? Actually, I don't care.
interested in him at all, but then again, one of her crew is played by Ron Jeremy, so there isn't really a lot of choice involved. Mind you, he isn't very interesting (like Haffron) or attractive (like Jean). But he's there, so that's enough. I also noticed the soundtrack being a bit off - they've overdubbed The Moans Of Sex™, but they don't sync up with Joy opening her mouth, so it looks at various points as if Emmanuelle is a ventriloquist.

Unless they're going for that. With this series, you never know.

One point that really goes for this scene - and the series as whole, I suppose, from what I've seen of it - is that I really like Brittany Joy. She's a brilliant actress and I even think she performs better with her clothes on - which is weird, considering she's a porn star! A perfect choice for the role of a more
If you're doing that, who's flying this thing?
savvy, business-minded Emmanuelle who still has the innocent charm and adventurous spirit of the character. She's also got a really cute voice, which helps. This knowledge actually makes me want to watch the whole film through again, rather than just enjoy the ending sex scene - not something you'd get from just downloading the scene from somewhere, but good acting is always a plus, especially in softcore where there has to be a plot!

So, in summary: I like this scene for what it is - and the series, though absolutely bonkers, clearly has a lot of thought put into it. And that, my friends, is the sort of thing that makes me grin. If only for a short while.

Saturday, 16 August 2014


Another story from my past, although this one's from about two weeks ago, so maybe still kind of relevant.

I was in need of relaxation. I'd been working a little too hard, perhaps; I was tired, bored and generally fed up. I was also possibly a little horny, but I was in no position to take matters into my own hands (as I was in the middle of the street and may have caused a little of a stir had I done so... mind you, this is Britain; people would pretend not to notice). What I needed, I reasoned, was a massage, but I had no idea where to get one.

So I went to Bath. It wasn't a long journey from where I was staying and I arrived in good time to explore - although I didn't do much exploration; I went into Primark for the cheapest pair of swimming trunks and towel I could find, and then joined the midweek queue for the thermae.

First things first: it is a relaxing place to be. I'm a sucker for being immersed in warm water, except for warm baths which make me itch for some reason, but this was something else. It's a little expensive, but for £27 you get two hours' worth of main pool, rooftop pool, terrace and steam rooms time - each of which I enjoyed (except the terrace; it looked like a nice place to sit, but I'd forgotten my towel and didn't fancy flashing the whole of Bath my junk if I sat down too fast). But as I sat down in a steam room, a thought occurred to me. Maybe, just maybe...

Okay, so there wasn't going to be much chance of anyone masturbating in the steam rooms. Despite the pleasing scent of jasmine floating through the air and the amount of sweat running down my nearly-naked body - and a handy scented shower to help freshen up afterwards - I clocked it as an impossible place to enjoy yourself thanks to the fact that:

a) other people could enter
b) your silhouette could be seen from outside the steam pod (they all have tinted glass walls)
c) you may have to exit covered in cum and do the very short walk of shame to the shower
d) you may dehydrate; it's hot enough already

Okay, it's not impossible - I used to bullseye womp rats in my T-16 back home, and they're not much bigger than two metres, and I've seen porn set in steam rooms where the participants didn't die. But that's porn. Plus, I wasn't going to be having sex with any nubile Swedish blondes - I was just considering masturbation.

I moved on, interest piqued. There were certainly plenty of delicious opportunities once I set my mind to it. Think of the opportunities in the bubbling hot pool in the Minerva Room, or even under the massage jet (which I found quite painful, but still). Had I visited in winter, the outdoor pool may have been covered with a haze of mist, which may have been a perfect opportunity for some hidden illicit activities. The more I thought about it, the more I hit upon ways to be slightly deviant in Britain's only natural hot spring. Of course, I then considered how difficult it might be for a boy to masturbate underwater, but I brushed that aside. I'd find a way, I reasoned.

But that would be for another day - I'd paid for two hours and, by this point, I still hadn't spent nearly enough time lying in my back floating around the water which makes me feel surprisingly buoyant (I can't float, usually). So I lay back and almost fell asleep.

Almost. Being surrounded by cool, clean water made me feel a little too hot and dirty to sleep properly. What I needed was an orgasm...

Friday, 15 August 2014

Lord Rolle

If I still put my hand to my top lip and press down I can feel a lump inside my flesh, like a spot that hasn't broken out yet. My right leg is pretty healed; it doesn't hurt any more, which helps - and the graze on my elbow is gone. This would be fine...

...if I hadn't done the same sort of thing the other day.

To be fair, this was rather more spectacular (albeit with a little less blood) than the last time I tripped over. I was in the cinema, in fact, merrily laughing my way through The Inbetweeners 2, when I decided that the time was right to go to the toilet. Being that twat who walks across a row of seats, I swiftly clattered down the stairs towards the exit.

I don't know how I tripped. I just did, staggering over a microbe of something á la Calamity James. In any case, with two stairs in my way, I fell, once again heading towards the ground at breakneck speed, throwing out a hand to stop myself smashing my face again, with full knowledge that a bleeding lip may dampen the spirits of the comedy film somewhat.

However, because I was going downstairs at speed beforehand, something else happened.

I hit the ground, and inertia carried me forwards. I did a complete 360° rotation on the floor - an entirely involuntary roll, which would have been quite impressive if I hadn't been an idiot falling over in a full cinema screen. I ended up on my front, having been on both sides and back at certain points. I must have looked stup amazing.

Not wanting people to laugh at me any more than they actually were (which was quite a lot, to be fair), I scrambled up and limped out of the screen on my way to the toilet; it was not until I got back home that I realised that I actually had an open wound which had been bleeding a little throughout the second half. Still, I wasn't hurting so much, and assumed that my roll had taken most of the impact.

I washed my hands and promptly returned to the cinema screen...

...whereupon I fell over again.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Liebster Award: Activate!

I was nominated for a Liebster Award, one of those viral awards that go around the blogosphere. I do feel guilty getting these as I can never find anyone to nominate that I know will actually want to do the thing! Still, I was grateful to Charlie for nominating me. So: I have won an award! Hooray!

Here are the alleged rules:

1. Thank the person who nominated you and provide a link to their page.
2. Proudly display the award banner on your page.
3. List 11 facts about yourself.
4. Answer the questions the award giver asks you and make 11 more for your nominees.
5. List your nominees.


So here are eleven facts. Every second fact is related to sex.

(i) I hardly ever watch TV; my favourite programme is Knightmare, and there's only been one new episode of that since 1994. Apart from individual episodes of things, I can't keep still watching TV and I don't like channel-surfing.
(ii) I don't like being categorised according to BD/SM terms but I occasionally refer to myself as a switch even though I don't actually switch during sex.
(iii) I play the guitar, the violin and various types of percussion, but I've never gotten any further than grade 4 on any instrument; however, I have played in many more bands than people I know who can play proficiently have.
(iv) I put a slash in the middle of "BD/SM" do differentiate between "B/D", "D/S" and "S/M", all of which I've seen with a slash dividing them. It's multipurpose punctuation!
(v) I'm a genius. I was diagnosed with a high IQ when I was very young and I never had problems with anything academic - even maths, which was by far my weakest subject. The upshot of this being that I was bullied for being clever, oversensitive because apparently that's something that happens to clever people, and still get easily frustrated with things.
(vi) I have, in the past, written a lot of lesbian erotica, always from a girl's perspective, but it's not something I've ever felt compelled to finish or go anywhere with.
(vii) Although I'm quite good with words, sometimes I find it hard to articulate what I want or what I feel because of the way my brain works. I can get easily upset if I feel someone isn't listening - even if they are and just can't understand what I mean!
(viii) I'm very affectionate to everyone - friends, partners and even strangers or colleagues. This doesn't mean that I have any sexual designs on anyone (I'm the least threatening boy I know), but it can surprise people as to how much I seem to like hugs, a hand on the shoulder or even a fist bump as a greeting.
(ix) I don't own any consoles that aren't made by Nintendo and I rarely emulate anything that isn't by Nintendo either.
(x) The most sexual discoveries I've had about myself have always been in periods when I haven't been having sex. I had a long period between 2003 and 2007 when I didn't have any sex at all and I discovered, in that time, exactly what worked for me and what didn't. Had it not been for that long period, I'd be a very different ILB and may not even be writing ILB at all!
(xi) I still haven't heard every song by James. Every now and again I catch one I haven't heard before, but as they've been going since 1978, it's very difficult to get to listen to absolutely everything.


 And now for the 11 questions:

1. What's your favourite colour?
Blue - well, it's my blog layout colour scheme, for a start. I like darker blues mostly, like royal, marine, fisherman's, navy. I once painted my bedroom in a shade called "blue jive", which was my favourite of about four thousand I tried. Well, I say I painted it - I went to camp and my parents did so. It was blue jive for years afterwards.

2. Where's the weirdest place you've had sex?
I'm not sure as I haven't exactly had sex in many varied places, although I really want to. I think probably sex in a jacuzzi is about as outlandish as I've gotten, although I once had sex in a disabled bathroom, and that's pretty strange. (There isn't anything else I can think of!)

3. Is there a book that changed your life? What is it and why?
So many books. I love books. They have completely turned my life upside down and it's impossible to name just one that's had a bigger influence on me than any other. I'll go for a few: Lord of the Flies, my favourite book and a great example of contemporary fiction; the Harry Potter, Hunger Games and Divergent series for restoring my faith in YA throughout the years; Quiver by Kevin Smith as it really revived Green Arrow; everything by Shakespeare except Romeo and Juliet; and Girl with a One-Track Mind, for obvious reasons.

4. What's the oddest thing a complete stranger has said to you?
"Excuse me, can I kiss you, please? On the lips? Just quickly?" has to be one of the strangest ones - both because it was a stranger and because it's nigh-on unfathomable to believe that anyone would actually want to kiss me. I believe it may have been a dare - "go and kiss that loner in the corner and I'll buy you a beer" or something.
I've got a story about being asked an odd question about someone I sort of knew, rather than a stranger: shortly after being dumped by Rebecca, one of her friends named Kate (her initials were K.A.T.E.) asked me the question "would you go out with me? be my slut baby! lol", which is odd since I've no idea what a slut baby is. I said yes, actually, but that didn't actually end up happening; I've no idea if she was serious or not!

5. What's your favourite place on your body to be kissed?
On my neck because it's an erogenous zone; on my lips because I can reciprocate; on my back because it's a source of irritation to me, and on my nipple if I'm about to orgasm (but never at any other point and especially if I'm not aroused!). But I'll take your kisses wherever you want to plant one - I like them!

6. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Bath or Bristol, or Nottingham, Manchester, Brighton, London... somewhere here in the UK. Heck, SH is nice enough - it's just overcrowded with my parents here! A lot of my friends - ones I met recently, actually - have been pretty nomadic and travelled around before attempting to put down roots, or continually drift between countries, stopping occasionally due to visa or family shenanigans.
Wherever I end up, it has to have an Internet connection and some bathroom access and I'm sorted... at least for a while, anyway!

7. Are you a cat person or a dog person?
A cat person who actually owns a cat. Willow has been very fussy recently and we only discovered it was due to an abnormally high number of fleas the other day. We've administered some treatment and made a fuss of her and now she follows us around everywhere and sleeps on our bed both day and night, so essentially we have a daughter now.

8. Do you have a celebrity crush?
No - I never have and I never will. I hate celebrity crushes for the simple reason that they put forward the message that your actual SO isn't good enough.

9. Boobs or bum?
Boobs on a girl; bums on a boy, although that can always change depending on who and in what context!

10. If you could do any job in the world, what would it be?
Comedian/satirist - the sort of guy who gets onto comedy panel shows and so forth. Failing that, some sort of sex educator or sex-positive activist. Failing that, a writer and journalist, maybe focusing on video games or music, maybe theatre, maybe relationships and sex. Failing that, a novelist. A singer/songwriter. A dancer. A comics writer. A superhero. You know, I have a lot of impossible dreams; many are uncertain and none are attainable! I do most of the above things as hobbies and that's my problem!
The job I've got at the moment is one that I actually do quite like (and I'm apparently pretty good at), and it's the first time I've actually liked a job, really - but the pay is terrible and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere, which is another problem. I just need to accept that I'll never reach true happiness and that'll all be okay.

11. What do you enjoy most about blogging?
I enjoy a lot of things about blogging! I like the open platform, the unrestricted freedoms and the opportunity to share your words, thoughts, ideas and opinions with the world. I like the fact that people read and that I hope maybe I have influenced at least one person at some time or another! I like the multitude of blogs out there and the links that we share. I like the way everyone does things a little differently. I like the fact that I can talk about sex!
The thing I like the most about blogging, however, has to be the community spirit. I can't imagine a life without it; I've been blogging in some form or another since 2001 and I haven't stopped yet. Without it, I wouldn't have the friends, events or life I have now. I wouldn't have had a girlfriend at all, as far as I'm concerned, anyway! The people who write the words make blogging so fun, so I'll go for that.


I'm not sure I can think of any nominees, hardly eleven! But I'll nominate some people, who can ignore these if they wish:

a) Horny Geek Girl, because I love her writing and want to know more about her!
b) Emma Whispers, because she hasn't touched her blog for ages!
c) Bunny White, as this sort of thing would fit quite well on her blog...
d) Naked Cyclist from LLL, because he needs more recognition!
e) Rose, just to see if she will!


And here are eleven questions:

一 Why did you decide to start a sex blog, in five words or less?
二 What's your favourite subgenre of porn, if you have one, and why? Give us an example.
三 British music or American music?
四 Think of an adjective to describe your best orgasms.
五 Hold it now, and watch me hoodwink; does it make you stop, think?
六 Have you ever seen an episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic? What did you think of it?
七 If you had to choose one single sex act for the rest of your life, which can't be penetrative sex, what would it be?
八 Faith, hope or charity?
九 If you want to be horny, what's the first thought that pops into your head? Why specifically that one?
十 Are you, have you ever been, or were you raised as, a follower of a religious or spiritual belief?
十一 Complete the following quote however you wish: "Disturb not the harmony of fire, ice and lightning, lest these titans wreak destruction upon the world in which they clash. Though the water's great guardian shall arise to quell the fighting, alone its song shall fail: thus the Earth shall turn to ash. Oh, chosen one, bring together these treasures three: their power combined tames..."

These are fun questions! You can answer them if you want, even if I haven't nominated you!

Sunday, 10 August 2014

Soft Porn Sunday Special: The one and only, genuine, original, sexual Emmanuelle!

Something that irritates me about a lot of geeky media - and I suspect I'm not alone here - is the fact that a lot of continuity errors tend to crop up every now and again, and need to be fixed - which is usually done quite poorly. DC's recent "New 52" imprint (something I dislike intensely) is an attempt to refresh everything established throughout decades of comic history, something they felt they needed to do in order to avoid using another bucketload of retcons.

This isn't often a problem with soft porn as the characters are barely ever carried over from one film to
Allie Haze is two years younger than me!
another (sneakily allowing the studios to use the same actors for a multitude of characters) and there's basically no need for any continuity - with the exception of sequels, and even those don't often have the same characters. Mirror Images and Mirror Images II are completely different, and I've no idea about the Indecent Behaviour series!

In any case, an exception is Emmanuelle, who at times has been played by Sylvia Kristel, Laura Gemser, Natasja Vermeer, Krista Allen, Holly Sampson, Julie Lee, Marcela Walerstein and Mia Nygren... and I'm sure there are others. With the exception of her possibly being a Time Lord, the massive discrepancies in her hair colour, ethnicity, nationality, voice and age make the whole thing impossible to ignore like one can with James Bond. Sexy, maybe, but not great for the OCD viewer - and almost forcing one to choose which Emmanuelle is the real one.

On Friday evening I watched Emmanuelle in Rio, an absolute travesty from 2003 starring Ludmilla Ferraz as a version of the title character with no redeeming features whatsoever, and - irritated by this - did a bit of searching to see if there was a better version of Emmanuelle made more recently. There is, it seems, despite my previous claim that there isn't much soft porn being produced nowadays, a relatively recent series from 2012 named Emmanuelle Through Time..., seriously, that's what it's called...

...and so I watched the first one in that series: Emmanuelle's Skin City. I know, stay with me here, it gets better, honest.

The framing device set-up for this series is a little confused before it even gets going. Emmanuelle - this time played
Emmanuelle's double-breasted CGI blimp. I want one too.
by Brittany Joy, aka porn star Allie Haze - is given a massive double-breasted blimp (which looks like boobs from the front: very subtle, movie) by a lover for her birthday. Enterprising girl that she is, Emmanuelle then hires a crew of friends to film a webseries from the blimp - a host, an actress, some camera blokes, an editor who looks like Ron Jeremy's stunt double and a general director dogsbody type girl - which she then broadcasts online.


What I wasn't expecting - and this is what threw me off entirely - was the massive plot twist that comes halfway through the film: a team of random scientists kidnap Emmanuelle when her blimp lands in Las Vegas and use her sexual energy to power up their massive and untested MacGuffin, which somehow transports her to an alternate Las Vegas in a universe where Emmanuelle is a massive star. As she wanders, dazed, through streets bearing her name in lights and advertising products with her name on, all the previous Emmanuelles are referenced, to the point of including a montage of shower sex from previous films and the Emmanuelle in Space theme song playing in the background.

Emmanuelle references in an Emmanuelle film! Trippy!
This effectively renders all previous versions of Emmanuelle fictitious - the actresses playing her in the past are even named at certain points - and, therefore, they're not canon. By the end of the film, Emmanuelle returns to the real world (where these films were never made) and we are safe in the knowledge that there's only one Emmanuelle after all.

It's insane. It's ridiculous. It's stupid. But it's actually a really clever way to deal with the problem - although there is some slight ethical question in erasing all previous Emmanuelles from continuity, of course - and a nice bit of fanservice, giving a cheeky nod to the viewers and those nostalgic for the earlier erotic adventures of our heroine.

Which is why I haven't done a scene review today. Trying to work out what was going on during Emmanuelle's Skin City was so mind-bendingly meta-self-referential-self-parody-retcon-squared left
This idiot hosts Emmanuelle's webseries. It hurts.
me unable to concentrate on the sex scenes in favour of trying to screencap all the in-jokes and references I could find. As the story draws to a close, the US government "helpfully" installs the machine on her blimp, allowing her to continue making and broadcasting her webseries in the real world, but spending her free time hopping between alternate dimensions á la Sliders.

It's not the worst of ideas for a series, I suppose - and they've done everything else: incest, rape, abuse, plastic surgery, travel, vampires, psychics, magic, aliens, Paul Michael Robinson. Dimensional transport is just the next step, surely?

So I suppose I'll just have to watch the other six. Taking one for the team, I know. But I'll be safe in
the knowledge that I now know who the real Emmanuelle is. And as for me, well, ILB is a non-multidimensional variable. I mean, what would you do with two of me?

Don't answer that.

Friday, 8 August 2014

Ge7 p£1d to br0.wse the w3b¡

I returned to the West on Monday afternoon late enough to not get out of bed for an indecent number of hours, but early enough to miss a visit by Robinson and Lovely to deliver some sweets as thanks for helping out at their wedding ("Here's an order of service, it's down the hall on your left, the toilet's over there, no I'm not a member of staff, I am a guest, honest..."). Fully aware that I was being covered, I wasn't expecting to do any work when I got back - nobody actually works in my job - but I most certainly was not expecting to be going home earlier than expected.

Four days earlier than expected.

In fact, I went home on Wednesday (narrowly catching my coach by a nanosecond due to the fact that, despite being in the station, I was reading Terra's World and had no idea that I wasn't actually on Fnrr), miles (if you can measure time in miles) before the Sunday my contract was due to finish, due to the fact that we'd all been very efficient and finished everything long before the projected end date.

So I got four days off on full pay and I'm effectively now getting paid to piss about at home, which is nice.

What did I do in my four or so weeks away? Well, surprisingly not much, actually. I didn't meet anyone since it was all on very short notice and everyone was busy with doing stuff since they actually have lives (a concept I'm having trouble grasping). Until I was moved into my own room I didn't really do any sexy stuff either - not that I'd have had sex there even if I could. But even browsing my favourite sites was rendered impossible by the ridiculously high barriers imposed by the company network.

Of course, now I'm downloading soft porn. But then again, I'm home.

Despite all that (anger-enticing posters notwithstanding), I really did enjoy my time there. Apart from anything else, there was a lot of space to breathe... and the air's much cleaner, I suppose, so breathing is positively encouraged. I did get injured more than once, I did have periods of intense boredom, the working bits were incredibly hard work, and despite practically crawling up a hill in order to get there multiple times a week, I gained weight again, so much so that I now look fairly hideous in any reflective surface... but I really liked the break from everything.

I read books. Lots and lots of books.

Anyway, now I'm back. Hello! Lovely to see you again, London.

Now back to the dirty stuff...

Monday, 4 August 2014

View From The Other Side IV: Robinson vs. Lovely

As they took their first steps away from the gazebo we had spent hours decorating with little paper birds on strings (it's more impressive than it sounds - and believe me, it did take hours), I was wondering how I should feel. This is, after all, something everyone had been waiting for since about seven years ago.

Or thereabouts. I've lost count.

I've known Robinson for the longest time, considering people whose weddings I've been to recently - and there have been a few. My little cousin hadn't even been born when I first met him by the sandtray in nursery, I didn't meet my friend-who-is-a-nurse until three years later, and I met this guy through Robinson himself, effectively; this was - as a result - The Big One.

Until 47 gets married next year. But that's in the future, so it doesn't count.

My first immediate thought was that I should be jealous, or sad, or angry, or lonely. Here he was, my oldest friend, walking away from me - physically, as well. But I didn't feel any of that stuff, because (as I promptly reminded myself), he was with Lovely, who is - as her name suggests - very lovely, and to be fair, the only person I'd ever trust with taking good care of Robinson. She has been doing so for long enough, through a tumultuous seven-ish years of one break-up, two "other" weddings, various failed jobs, 1,500 paper birds on strings, innumerable Disney references and interminable films with Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson in.

I'm sure she can handle it.

"You are so beautiful," I whispered in her ear during the final song, which was becoming more of a weep-fest as it went along. "Take good care of him."
"I will," she assured me, while Jilly clutched my side in a kind of miserable ecstasy and Mane did some sort of highland fling on the other side of the room.

My message to Robinson, however, was slightly more forthright. I was given a lapel microphone and had a camera pointed at me. I cleared my throat impressively.

"Robinson," I said directly to the camera, "I've known you since we were about two or three. You are the best friend a guy could ever have. And now you've got Lovely..."

I paused.

" don't mess it up."

Sound advice for a happy marriage.