Friday, 31 October 2014

Losing it

I will admit that I've been a bit confused this week as to the current spate of people writing various "first time" posts - I've seen some people doing it as a Wicked Wednesday entry - although it did get me thinking about my own first time. I have written about various firsts, of course: my first orgasm, for example, is still one of my favourite posts of all time. But I don't really think I've ever written about the first time I had full-on all-the-way sex (blowjobs are different, but that's another story...). So, erm, here it is, I suppose.

Wicked Wednesday entries I enjoyed, by the way, can be found at Sex Blog (of sorts) and Horny Geek Girl - I'm sure there are more, but those ones stood out. This isn't one (as it isn't Wednesday), but I was inspired. So sue me.

Out of the eight people I've had full sex with, three were virgins, and I was pleased - very pleased - to be able to lose my own virginity to someone who was a virgin herself. She had, for some reason, told all her friends that she wasn't - doing it underage was in vogue or something, I don't know - but, in any case, we were both completely inexperienced insofar as penetrative sex was concerned. By this point in our relationship, however, I think it's fair to say we were ready - we had been going for a couple of months; we'd gone well past the "sneaky feeling-up and occasional flashes of boob" stage; we were already making plans for the future. I was 17; she was 16. I'd even read up on The Pill since I thought that I'd be having sex for the first time at some point.

Of course, I never dreamed that it'd actually happen, but I was cautious.

The build-up was immense - a lot of cuddling, giggling at each other like we'd overdosed on Cheering Charms, much awkward fumbling and always being uncertain as to where this would lead to. A bit of it involved 47's bed, although I've no idea why I even remember that. For a while, we were really ready for it. And it was the first time I'd seen her naked, the first time I sucked her nipple or stroked her mound. And yet, when it got to the point of no return... it went a bit wrong.

The reason being the condom that I was wearing.

I wasn't going in unprepared. I just had no idea that I'd be having real sex at any point that weekend. I'd envisioned a weekend full of dry-humping and slightly awkward lewd suggestions while holding on to the flashing V that everyone at school had been trying to hard to lose (Lightsinthesky had already managed it; several other people had, too, but they weren't as vocal about it). I didn't have any protection with me because I wasn't going to need any. But there were condoms available - they were promotional condoms branded by a rock band.

Yeah, really.

So I put one of them on. I knew how to from sex education - the problem being that the latex was so thick that I couldn't feel much at all. I'm quite big, as well, when erect (I'm a grower... apparently), so I found the thick sheath of latex quite constricting on my cock; while the familiar pleasurable pulse when turned on was still evident, I felt myself getting a little squeezed, and I was getting less and less turned on by the second. I felt dull and uninspired, and even like I didn't have a penis any more, and yet I had a naked girlfriend who was clearly very wet indeed in front of me. For a while, I panicked.

I kept trying. I did. I kept trying to get my penis inside her, but, what with the thickness of the condom and - let's be honest - first-time nerves, I found it impossible (months later, I heard this referred to as "couldn't get it up". That's not true - I could get it up; things were conspiring against me!). I even gave up at one point and sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. She tried fellating me - although I'm pretty sure it didn't taste great as I was still wearing the condom at that point - and, just as I was beginning to give up hope and reclaim my flashing V for eternity, she straddled me, and I was at the right angle, and I was hard, and that's it. I was in. Sex à go-go.


The sensation, as I described later, was akin to dipping my erect penis into warm water - perhaps not the mind-blowing, description-defying sensation that I now know sex to be. And, to be fair, this wasn't anything to do with her, me, or the fact that there wasn't any movement going on. I later found out that it was, of course, the condom that caused this sensation - the next time we had sex, I used a much thinner one from Durex and that was dramatically better sex as well - however, both the thought of sex and the creeping realisation that I actually was having sex at the tender age of 17 kept me up. And so there we were, having sex.

Of a sort.

It was enough. Our sex life waxed, and then waned, throughout the course of our relationship. The first few times, after that initial one, were experimental. I tried a few different condoms and eventually she did actually go on the pill. We went on holiday together and had sex in a caravan at one point. But mostly on her bed. And once in the bath... but that ended up on her bed anyway. And I started to masturbate at that point. It did take me months before I started coming inside her, but that happened too. So, although I wouldn't say my first time was fantastic - because it wasn't, I couldn't feel anything - it could have been much worse, considering what it led to in the long term.

And at least it didn't hurt. And that counts, right?

Monday, 27 October 2014

Review: The Story of Control

Adrianna Taylor, dominatrix and now author, was kind enough to offer me a copy of her autobiographical spank-heavy book The Story of Control. I gratefully accepted, because:

(i) I like writing reviews
(ii) I like reading
(iii) Wheeeeeeeee, free book

However, one of the reasons I was so keen to read this is that I'm not really interested in BD/SM, and particularly not domination. I mean, I know what it involves and all - it's just not my thing. YKINMK, after all. So I read this book from the point of view of an "outsider looking in" - not someone who needs to be instructed so much as someone who's just... curious.

So, anyway, The Story of Control is similar to a few other books I've read, except it's not made up of a number of blog posts or newspaper columns: it's a book of ten distinct chapters, presented in prose, going through a time in Adrianna's life in which she attempts to juggle her professional life as a dominatrix with various relationships and adventures out into Real Life. Which is fine, really.

The good points: I like the way she writes. She's got a pleasant, almost brisk tone that moves along at an okay pace, and she certainly characterises the people she writes about well enough - in fact, I found myself able to visualise them - even her clients - which is the sign of a good author. She's no-nonsense and down-to-earth and sometimes writes with genuine feeling.

The bad points: Despite all this, there were a few sections where I felt the feeling had gone missing somewhere. There are a few paragraphs where Adrianna talks about, in a kind of printed monotone, her professional boundaries, and they get a little repetitive. She states more times than I'd care to count that she doesn't have sex with her clients (I could have done with once!), and even tends to sometimes interrupt the flow of a scene with a couple of short sentences explaining what she's about to do, or has just done, which I'm sure is important but seems to make things a little stop-start to me.

Sometimes, it even seems as if she's trying to justify being a dominatrix with these sort of things. I'm reading a book by a dominatrix about domination; I've got no problem with it - you don't need to make any excuses!

In any case, from my point of view, this was a good book - but not much fun. It's well-written and nicely presented - and if she's a first-time writer it's a really good start, given its frank nature and range of experiences to describe. It's just too serious for me: I like there to be at least some laughs in my literature, and this has the potential to be much more light-hearted than it actually ends up being. I'm not saying it's dark and sinister - because it isn't, which is a relief - but it's not really something that grabs me as much as it could have were it written with just a pinch of salt towards all the happenings and goings-on.

But, as I say. YKINMK - and the same probably goes for books, too.

The Story of Control is available here. Thanks to the author for the copy.

Sunday, 26 October 2014

Alain Siritzky

It came to my attention a few days ago that Alain Siritzky, head of ASP and the man behind the entire Emmanuelle series and about a billion other things, died on Saturday 11 October "after a short illness". He was 72.

A legend of softcore cinema is gone.
- Rolfe Kanfesky

Legendary he may be, but what a lot of people don't know is that he wasn't actually behind the original Emmanuelle (he just distributed it and took the helm for Emmanuelle II), but throughout all the years after that he either produced, directed, or was executive producer for all the Emmanuelles, plus a whole phalanx of other films including the Click series, The Sex Files and Passion and Romance (which I remember being played on UK Living billed as "woman's entertainment". I watched it anyway).

A quick glance through his filmography coupled with a Zsasz-like tally (on paper, thankfully) shows that I have, throughout the years, watched no less than thirty-four films in some way credited to Alain Siritzky - possibly more, although I can't claim to remember all of them. However, many of the films I made a mark for are familiar in a slightly more intimate sense - insofar as I actually own them, in MPEG form or on a DVD or VCD (or all three; I'm a hoarder) - in fact, I once had two of them on VHS before I gave them away.

In fact, in many ways, this man is responsible for the majority of the orgasms I've had in my life. Yes, I actually did just type that sentence.

Where things go from here, in regard to the franchises his company owns, I have no idea - but, looking back, Alain Siritzky did so much for soft porn throughout his film career, leaving a back catalogue for one to cock a quizzical eyebrow at, at least. I never knew him, never met him, and (until I watched a documentary with him in it last week) never knew what he looked like - but I shall certainly always owe a lot to him. Many shall miss him dearly.

Alain Siritzky
1942 - 2014

Saturday, 25 October 2014


Every now and again, when my life gets a little too much for me to handle, I sink into sex.

This doesn't mean that I have sex. When I have sex, I'm sharing sex with another person (and, I suppose, those who read my blog, should I care to share the gory details in this space). Nor am I talking about having sex with myself - although I do suppose that's part of it, to an extent. What I mean is, when I sink into sex, I just... escape.

It's not like I sit around for hours, lost in glorious visions and imaginings. But this is more than just the fleeting thought of sex that I'm meant to be having every six seconds. It's the action of losing myself so completely in something sex-related that everything else becomes secondary. Faded. No longer relevant.

At university, to escape, I used to visit sex chatrooms. It seems like a bit of an overly geeky thing to do, and even has something of a darker overtone than it should - but, of course, not everyone in that sort of room is a creepy old man in an anorak. I rarely even had cybersex myself - just sank into that community: constantly shifting, with users coming and going, but people always there, always turning up, all united by a love of sex. It was an escape.

I suppose we all have the same things - like getting yourself stuck in a good book or tuning into beautiful music and ignoring everything else. It's very soothing. For me, the fact that what I was doing was sexual made it more exciting. More illicit. It was my little secret. Special to me.

Now, there's the same need. I can get lost in an erotic film, in a lusty dream, reading a raunchy book or even just flicking through the first issue of Sex Criminals. I can read through things I've written - or things other people have. I can easily spend inordinate amounts of time zipping through the sex blogosphere like a virtual ninja.

And the fondest memories I have always involve this window open, where I'm tapping out stuff to post on my blog. Maybe with a cup of tea in hand and a convection heater to my left, while it's cold and brisk outside. A warm, safe sanctuary where, once again, I just get lost in sex.

Sex is not something to be feared. It should be loved, cherished, celebrated. But, in some ways, sex is also my secret world - where I can go to just hover surrounded by things that please and excite and interest me.

And I suppose we all need that kind of escape. I just chose sex.

Thursday, 23 October 2014

Multiskilled Workers

Part of my job, strange as this sounds, is replying to job applications, apologising to people that we can't employ them. I know - nobody actually replies to these, right? Well, I do, because I'm nice like that - and, having been unemployed myself, I know how crushing it is not to get so much as a polite no.

So polite nos are a part of my job. I suppose somebody has to do it.

One of the results of doing this is that I have to read through the e-mails these people send to me. Some are erudite, some nonsensical, and some formulaic. The one I got the other day will stick in my mind as, among other achievements he listed (all of which make him more qualified than I am - but don't tell anyone), he did mention that he's written an academic-sounding book. Idly intrigued, I sent an e-mail back, asking him if he'd care to share the title of his book.

He obliged. Having a spare few minutes and with nothing else pressing to do, I flicked through Amazon searching for the title of his book - which it found. In turn, it linked to his author page.

Very intriguing to find that he'd written not only this book, but another one on the same subject, an essay on the link between Ovid's Metamorphoses and modern literature...

...and a large amount of explicit LGBT erotic fiction.

It's good to have a hobby.

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

The Machine Stops

My 'phone appears to be broken - at least, that's the sanitised version. It's still operational, although the trackpad isn't responding. For those of you who are still unaware, I use a BlackBerry - a blue one (BlueBerry?) - and to do anything with that, you need a trackpad. I've put it in for repair and hope to get it back in a few hours.

Hope to.

People talk a lot about how people are becoming dependent upon technology, and due to the fact that I now feel like someone's cut one of my arms off, I would be inclined to agree. But this is different.

My 'phone has been a sort of lifeline for me - the Twitter app is permanently signed in to @innocentlb and even the BBM section has fellow BBMers from the sex blogging community in it. I've got texts dating back months from people who I've texted from events like the drinks before Eroticon 2014 and even Erotica 2013. I used that 'phone to arrange drinks with Rose and Charlie, and even Dave, who some of you may remember. I've used that 'phone to DM my girlfriend to let her know things both sexual and mundane. I've even used it to view soft porn, as I managed to get it to run a scene on its limited media player.

And I've used it to write blog posts.

Okay, so yeah, it's just a 'phone. But it's important to me. It's like having a permanent link back to the sex blogging community in my pocket. A reminder, perhaps, of who I truly am. And that's what I need right now.

So I wait.

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Soft Porn Sunday: Nataliya Joy Prieto & Jeffrey James Lippold

A while ago I mentioned the Emmanuelle Through Time series and, realistically, I spent a large portion of the summer trying to garner all seven films in the series - partially because I am a massive soft porn whore, but mostly because of Brittany Joy's tits.

After a few months of frustrated despair at not being able to find both two of the episodes (#3 and #6) and the alleged musical extravaganza that accompanies them, I got into contact with writer/director Rolfe Kanefsky, who very kindly agreed to send me copies of the missing episodes. So I now have a complete collection. Uhm, here endeth the lesson?

In any case, I've now watched everything I missed. Episode three (Sex, Chocolate & Emmanuelle) I like - lots of sex, a rollicking adventure storyline, and one of the best characters - Gwen, played by Bridgette Hudson - gets to come out of her shell a little. But, although I enjoyed it, I was more intrigued by THIS:

Drink me.
Emmanuelle in Wonderland is the aforementioned musical extravaganza - and yes, you read this correctly, it is a musical. It's an actual musical, with real songs, sung by the characters, along with the appearance of multiple favourite storybook characters, so an an added bonus, this thing ruins your childhood FOREVER. 

Yes, it is ridiculous - it's completely nonsensical, it bears no relation to the plot at all, the songs are of varying quality and there's actually very little sex for an Emmanuelle flick. And it is also completely brilliant because it is, apart from anything else, totally unique and dangerously entertaining.

And has a scene with a rapping Ron Jeremy. That one'll stay with you.

Appearance: Emmanuelle in Wonderland, aka Emmanuelle's Sex Tales (2012)
Characters: Snow White & The Huntsman (the characters, not the film with Chris Hemsworth in it)

Rolfe also informed me - and I had been wondering this - that film six in the series is a more canonical version of Wonderland, named Sex Tales. A quick viewing of Sex Tales confirms that it is indeed the same story, albeit with some of the songs removed and more sex... much more sex. This kind of tears me in two due to my affection of softcore sex and ingrained love of musical theatre - not to mention the vast knowledge I have of fantasy fiction and fairy tale lore - so, as you can imagine, I watched the whole of Wonderland perched on the edge of my chair halfway through imagination and amusement, and almost forgot to choose a scene to review.


Enter Nataliya Joy Prieto, who plays my favourite character in the series: young, ditzy actress Renee.
Gregory was always surprised at his own reflection.
In Wonderland, all the characters are exactly the same as similar to their "IRL" counterparts, and here we have her playing young, ditzy Snow White - yes, Snow White is in Wonderland; bear with me here - who, instead of being killed by the Huntsman (who here is given a name: "Gregory"), has sex with him after taking him through the Magic Mirror in the Queen's bedroom. Again, give me some time.

Unlike most of the scenes in Sex Tales, Wonderland doesn't actually skip out on this scene, although what it does show is a heavily cut-down version which might be at home in something rated 12A. I'm not a fan of cut-down softcore, but at least this film has Ron Jeremy doing a rap, which... actually, no, you'd better make up for this in other ways, movie. Sex Tales itself has the full scene, so that's what we'll be watching. Let's dive in, shall we?

She climbs on top of him the second he enters the mirror, and they tumble backwards onto a bed which just happens to be there, all accompanied by...

...Canon in D? Really?

Well, it's one way of showing off your boobs.
They start disrobing pretty quickly, actually, and after the first few bars of something I learned to play at the age of 8, they are both topless and show no signs of slowing down. In fact, they don't; two seconds later the Huntsman is naked and there's a very brief simulated blowjob from Renee. You've got to give her credit - she certainly knows how to get this party started.

The next part made me laugh out load and I genuinely had to stop writing in order to get all the laughs out. Renee pushes him back onto the bed playfully, and then jumps onto him, audibly shouting a little "yay!". It's almost as if she's going to follow with a "wheeeeeee, sex!". Love it.

On top goes Gregory and he starts eating her out, which I suppose is only fair since his job was originally to kill her, and then off go the panties. One quick flourish, a jump cut, bish bash bosh, yay sex!

"Hmmm... now what shall I have for dinner later?"

So they start with reverse cowgirl and I am immediately reminded of why I love Renee's sex scenes so much. They're full of energy and she's rocking back and forth like a pro - not too fast not too slow - with a classic look on her face that I'm very sorry not to have screencapped. She gives another audible "aah!" before falling forwards, but this doesn't stop any of the action; they just continue having sex, Renee bending forwards to hold onto Gregory's feet for balance (yes, really) while continuing to ride him. She even changes facial expressions a few times, including one where she looks like she's having a think.

Alas, poor Yorick.
At one point we transition to regular cowgirl which is mostly a shot of her breasts close up, with Gregory coming in to spoil the view by kissing them - although I suppose that's his prerogative - and, yes, then she does indeed say "yes!" - followed by, "oh, you're like a wild boar!".

I have no idea what it's like to have sex with a wild boar and I have no idea how Renee knows, but I'm not going to question her.

As the sex ramps up in terms of intensity and speed, the vocalisations start coming - not only Renee's characteristic moans (she does them in every scene), but also the comment, "so much for being pure as snow!" from Gregory. Clearly unimpressed by this joke, Renee then shuts him up by slapping her boobs in his face, and is then flipped over into missionary, at which point we see that the Huntsman is still wearing tigerskin boots - at least, that's what I think they are, or else ASDA was out of all other designs of Ugg boots - and Renee, who is also wearing shoes, starts doing the YMCA with her legs. Supple.

You probably don't care, but this is the bit which they kept in for Wonderland, as it's a close-up - and it's not a bad bit, either, with Renee starting the "oh yes!" mantra that she espouses in all her more lucid moments. A few more thrusts and we're done and there's an immediate cut back to Gregory trying to get it on with the magic mirror. Was it all a dream?

I don't care.

So, synopsis. Well, I love this series and I especially love Nataliya Joy Prieto and I really love Renee -
It's so fun to stay here.
she's a brilliant character, wonderfully written and very cheerful in her carefree, almost nihilistic, shagging. This scene - even though she's playing Snow White - is no exception whatsoever. Gregory the Huntsman, to be fair, isn't great, but he's not the real star of this scene. It's great stuff - it makes me laugh a lot (genuinely!), it's stimulating enough, and it's really well shot and lit. And Canon in D, for what it's worth, is a really great piece.

What I haven't mentioned is that, throughout, there are Tree of Life-esque cuts to various shots of tropical birds, which is confusing. But I suppose it makes a change from constant mix shots, and it's better than those of the same ilk during Emmanuelle in Space, where those shots can be a little tiring - this is just pleasant confusion.

But hey, enough of Canon in D. If you want great quality music, well, look no further than this!

Sunday, 12 October 2014

Soft Porn Sunday: Susan Hale & Tre Temptor

Neon lights, glass table - hey, it must be a strip club!
My Discs of Wonder may have stopped working, which is A Terrible Thing.

Actually, it's not so terrible. What probably happened is that my external DVD drive has stopped working, or is intermittently doing so - however, my Discs of Wonder are all CD-Rs (or CD-RWs in some cases) with a collection of softcore scenes on each one, and maybe my DVD drive doesn't like playing those. It's a particularly dodgy drive anyway, being as it is the same brand as the previous one I broke, and although it seems to handle commercial DVDs fine, it needs a few goes to play a DVD-R.

That and my Discs of Wonder are all old, scratched and dodgy as they are anyway. I'll get a new drive at some point - just not today. Which is frustrating, to a point, because the scene I wanted to feature is on one of my Discs of Wonder. However, after a bit of searching and password retrieval, I appear to have quite a lot of unrestricted access to one of the biggest softcore download sites on the Internet. So that's okay, then.

Finding out the name of the male actor in this scene was a much more momentous task, however.

Appearance: Andromina - The Pleasure Planet (1999)
Characters: Dancer & Pilot

Right, so, yeah, I've mentioned this film before - three times, in fact. The jury's still out in my mind as to whether the set-up is sexist or not (the overall theme of recruiting girls from a female-only planet in order to work at an intergalactic strip club suggests it is; a variety of empowered and tough female characters says otherwise), but in any case, the sex scenes are done well enough, and it's often overlooked in lieu of other Surrender fare.

One of the boxes to tick in a by-the-numbers Surrender film is that the first sex scene should happen
It took me ages to snapshot this particular frame.
in the first few minutes after the opening credits roll... before the main plot happens, if that is achievable. This one itself happens pretty much instantly after the opening credits finish - it's perhaps the most immediate sex scene in any soft porn film - although it doesn't really establish anything; it's just sex.

What it does do, which the other scenes in the film don't manage to accomplish, is incorporate three positions often used in softcore (missionary, doggie, astride), and take place on Andromina. None of the rest of the film actually does, which makes me wonder why Andromina - unless it's a small planetoid with one strip club on it - is called "the Pleasure Planet", but then I'm overanalysing. As I do. Probably not you. But I do.


So this scene is, essentially, to show what happens on Andromina about ten years before the main story begins and - as such - doesn't feature any of the main characters. The participants in the sex are an unnamed female stripper - named as "Dancer" in the credits - played by Susan Hale (whose real name, I found out today, is actually Darby Daniels) and an equally-unnamed male pilot, played by Tre Cool... sorry, I mean Tre Temptor... in what appears to be his only screen appearance. She's dancing; he gets up on stage; they have sex.


Except that's not all. The entire thing - dancing, stripping and sex - happens on stage, in full view of an audience played by Robert Mahood, Daniel Cheldon, Thomas Vozza, Mark Smith, Don Pascual, Donald James and Jack Steele. One of them - although I don't know which; they're all nameless characters - is some sort of cyborg with a video camera attachment STICKING OUT OF HIS HEAD (that must make getting passport photos taken a challenge), and he spends some time leaning uncomfortably close to them, seemingly filming the sex. Whether or not this is a hidden message about voyeurism or invasion of privacy or just something the writer or actor felt like throwing in is unclear, but it makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

Stop filming, idiot! This isn't gonzo porn!

The rest of the scene I kind of like. It's quite formulaic, with sex happening in three stages - missionary, then doggie, then astride - each shown in sequence with a mix shot and (strangely) applause from the audience to indicate the change. They are a rowdy bunch.

"My neck feels so soft!"
The sex starts at 02:09 in the file I've got here, which means that the first two minutes and nine seconds are basically messing about aimlessly on stage and some slightly dull disrobing. The crowd cheer for no apparent reason as we mix to Hale on her back and Temptor on top of her, not actually doing very much. Her hair is splayed out attractively an he does some interesting things with his arms and her legs, but not much actual action happens until we get a close-up, which I'm assuming is what the robot-man-camera-voyeur-coloured-python-rock-snake is filming. There's some more pointless applause and neck-kissing, before a mix at 03:16 to the second stage of the sexy sexy sex.

This bit is doggie, and in my opinion is the best bit of the scene, if you can call it that. Cambot appears to have given up filming them (although he stands up for a few seconds, looks confused and then sits down - interesting sequence of events there), and we get some quite good angles. Doggie is very popular in soft porn and it's not hard to see why; you get a fair view of both participants, and as neither Hale nor Temptor is particularly unattractive, that's not so bad a thing. There are some odd close-ups which give us a view of Hale's back - it's quite a sexy back, I suppose - and Temptor's washboard stomach, which makes me feel a little queasy. Still, at least he looks like he's enjoying himself.
At about 03:40 he gives her three incredibly light-looking spanks, accompanied by a musical note
What could compare to my hair today?
clearly added in post-production, as not even the best of softcore music composers could plan that far ahead. This is followed by my favourite bit, some fairly enthusiastic sex with Temptor actually holding Hale by her elbows while she bumps and grinds against him. (I don't care if it's probably impossible, it's a hot bit of sex!) This is - as I've just noticed in rewatching - accompanied by something that sounds a bit like a broken wind machine, but is probably the crowd giving some sort of odd vocal support like they do to accompany the descending columns in Pointless. Whatever it is, it's quickly overlaid by some more scattered applause until 04:30, at which we mix to Stage Three.

Riding. Okay, well, there's less than a minute of this as the scene is already overlong. They're meant to have hit their stride at this point and the first few moments are shown from the front, with one audience member making a noise like a dying cat...

...seriously, there's no other way to describe it...

 ...and then there's the odd spot of riding. It's not particularly bouncy as some astride scenes are, nor is it particularly intense "soft" riding like we get in Emmanuelle in Space. There's a vague middle ground it occupies, most comparable to Kira Reed's first scene in Passion Cove's episode "The Surrogate" OH GOD I NEED TO GET OUT MORE, but it's not unpleasant, just unremarkable until about 04:50ish - but that's because the orchestra clearly get bored and start playing some odd synth lines which haven't been present at all until this point. Wonderfully redundant; well done, guys.

They sell BEER? In a bar? Well, I never!
Sex speeds up a bit with some smiles and bouncing hair from Hale, and then we just... kind of... finish. End of scene. Switch your camera off, weird man-machine-HAL hybrid.

What do I like about this scene? Well, I like Susan Hale. I haven't mentioned her before and a lot of her scenes are pretty duff, but she's a fairly decent actress and I like her makeup in this scene - clearly she's meant to be some kind of non-human alien because she's got diamonds stuck to her face - and her costume. I know there's not a lot of it, but she keeps both her cardboard necklace thingy and her boots on during the entire scene, which is always a nice touch that I appreciate. The same can't really be said for Tre Temptor - I don't dislike him but he doesn't really add much to the scene apart from being a bit of manflesh for Hale to have sex with. But I suppose that's probably the point.

I don't, however, like the way that this is staged. The décor is too seedy even for the setup - neon
There's an empty chair here. Are you meant to be in it? Weird.
lighting suggests cyberpunk and it's not even that (by the way, somebody make some cyberpunk soft porn; I'd watch the hell out of that!), the lighting is quite poor so you can't see some bits, and some of the camera angles are slightly dodgy. The music's fine, insofar as it works, but it's not brilliant. And the audience start to get annoying at some point, which makes me wonder if this scene is meant to be more exploitative than erotic. Even if it isn't, it's managing it, which is a worry.

However, having said that, I do like it - it's something I've come back to a few times. It gets me aroused, makes me hard, and has sometimes even helped me orgasm. And that's what it's all about, at the end of the day.

Thursday, 9 October 2014

Is it possible to be too nice in bed?

A tweet of mine was quoted in Metro this morning in response their weekly "LOL people have sex" column - the correspondent in question having been dumped for being "too nice", something I sympathised with, having been told the following at least once:

You're a really kind, passive person... and I find that a very unattractive quality in a man.

In (what I hope was) understanding sympathy, I tweeted the following:

Thankfully, the people who write the column's response seemed to agree with me - although I'm not so sure being nice is an indication of low self-esteem... cliché much?

However, what really got to me - other than the idiot who spouted the "nice guys never win" mantra of the arrogant and the column at the bottom of the page promoting a site where people can write anonymous blog posts about their sex lives, as if that's a new thing! - was the question that Metro saw fit to append to the page, repeated three times throughout the paper. Clearly nobody has answered this, so here's my answer:

Is it possible to be too nice in bed?


Communicating with your partner to find out what they like in bed... that's being nice!

Getting consent and agreeing on safe boundaries... that's being nice!

Being gentle and kind because they feel like they want a soft touch... that's being nice!

Exhausting yourselves with a long, hard shag because you want to work off energy... that's being nice!

Experimenting with yourself to discover what works for you and incorporating that into your sex life... that's being nice!

Physically inflicting pain on your partner if they want it, like it, work with it? That's being nice!

Doing anything - anything - that you both want to do because it feels good for you both during sex? That's being nice!

No, it's not possible! It's necessary!

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

How goes the work?

I was sitting at my desk when the 'phone rang for about the four-millionth time. Ready for it to be my boss at the end of the line, offering another pathetic excuse sotto voce for why she hasn't paid me any more this month even though I've been working three times the hours, I picked up and trilled a grim platitude into the mouthpiece.

But it wasn't her. It was her son, who I suppose is technically also my boss. I've got the word "senior" in my job title and I'm still at the bottom rung.

"Hey, I've got a... well, two... okay, three things for you to do..." he started.
"Yeah, nice to hear from you too."
"Right, so I'm working from home today, yeah, and I'm doing a lot of stuff, so I want you to send me these e-mails..."

This is insane, I thought, as I half-listened to what he was telling me and started typing said e-mails in a rather lacklustre manner. Were I working from home, I wouldn't be sitting waiting for e-mails. I'd be in my computer chair, masturbating furiously with sexy images on at full blast while gorging myself on chocolate biscuits and coffee, occasionally going to the kitchen via the 'phone to refuel on coffee and call work to pretend I'm working...

...and then I had a further thought.

How do I know he's not doing that?

Sunday, 5 October 2014

Hello, Smiler

I logged onto Facebook today and the first item on my timeline was a photo of a happy couple in southern Italy. Matching smiles, radiant, ebullient... drunk with happiness. I could practically feel the sunshine.

One of them is my ex.

TD got engaged. I don't know how I'm meant to feel about this. Throughout all the years, from the time I left her house in Oxford and started walking to the station in floods of tears to the sad, slow journey home, I didn't know what to think, what to feel, where to go. Then came the uncertain years: the long periods of unemployment, going back into education, a turbulent LDR with a tragic end that made me feel even more uncertain. All that happened in between - Eroticon, the new friendships in their droves, the connections and re-connections, the downward spirals and the upward highs, and the moving between houses and locations in too short a period of time.

It all happened, from then to now, all with her in the back of my mind, faded like a faint, uneasy smudge of a mistake. Not gone. Just resting there.

It's my fault, I know. My brain just won't let go. So many memories of terrible things, things that made me feel bad, painful, worthless. But then there are the good things too - and so many of those. I was there for the results of her finals and both graduations. I was there for her brother's 21st. I was even there for the start of her PhD. We had holidays. We had laughter. For a while, the pretty girl smiling in the photos was with me.

Skip forward four years and the world has moved on. I'm in my relationship; she's in hers. I've seen my cousin, my weightlifting friend, my friend-who-is-a-nurse and Robinson get married. Lady P got married too. Next year it's 47. It happens - people get engaged; they get married. In fact, in a way, I was waiting for this. I didn't know how I'd react, but I was waiting for it.

A small moan escaped from my mouth. I don't know why. Was I pleased, confused, shocked, scared or disappointed? I've no idea. I don't know why it should affect me so. But it does.

Wise people tell me I should move on. But I think we should keep hold of our memories. I don't have much of a choice, anyway, the way my brain works. I think it's important to learn from history. People have been learning from history for centuries and to stop doing so would be, frankly, idiotic. But what have I learned from all this? I don't even know what I'm finding so difficult.

I don't want to move on - I can't just abandon things in the past and leave it all behind. I want to move forward; go on to other adventures and pastures new. At the moment I'm in the doldrums, trying but not moving much. And when you're not moving forward it's all too easy to look to the past.

So now TD has her own future to look forward to. I just won't be part of it.

But then I knew that already.




Saturday, 4 October 2014

Review: Belle de Neige

There's a blog too!
I got sent a book to review recently, but I haven't got so far as opening it yet, as I was too busy reading Belle de Neige's book.

Enthused as I am to read things by fellow bloggers (such as, er, blogs) I was keen on a copy of this one because I've long been a fan of her blog (and it's in paperback; I don't own any version of an e-reader so that's a major factor in choosing something to pick up and read). Perhaps a strange choice of reading material, because I've never been skiing and have absolutely no desire to go.

Why read this, then? Well, it's not so much a book about skiing as it is about the people running the piste, and even then, it's more about the people than what they do. In a style clearly derived from writing a pseudonymous blog, Belle exploits the foibles of those around her in a familiar, yet slightly scathing, way. The chapters are short and so the book skips through at a fast pace, like a series of blog posts presented as vignettes exposing various tribulations in the life of a Chalet Bitch.

It's put me off skiing for life.

What I like most about this book, subject matter aside, is the fact that there are zero holds barred, especially with the language. This book is completely uncensored, with more "fuck"s than the South Park movie and a "cunt" thrown in every now and again - often in the dialogue. Again, the blogger head is reared a little here; one of the things I like about blogging is how explicit you can be, and this transfers really well to the page, whether Belle is talking about drink (there's a lot of that), drugs (there's a lot of that), snow (there's a lot of that) or sex (there's a lot more of that than you'd think). There's practically nothing that's left out - and that is wonderfully catastrophic.

The only thing that I can find fault with, really, is that it reads a little like an uncorrected proof. There are noticeable grammatical mistakes at times, and quite a lot of missing punctuation - there's even one chapter that starts on the same page as a previous one finishes without so much as a line break - which, although bearable, does sometimes overshadow exactly what you're reading. I'm aware that, from an English graduate's point of view, SPAG seems a little more important than it may be to the less pedantic, but I noticed it.

Although, having said that, this has since been released with a variant cover - so it may well have been improved since then.

However, that shouldn't put anyone off reading this - whether or not you ski - especially if you're a fellow blogger and like to see how the style translates to paper. I really liked this, it made me laugh out loud a lot, and was an incredibly pleasing diversion to whatever it is I was meant to be doing these past few days.

Belle de Neige's book is available from Amazon - there's an eBook available too.