tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4868360048933443722024-03-14T15:44:36.638+00:00Innocent LoverboyThe First Twelve Years: 2007 - 2020 || <b><a href="http://www.innocentlb.com/">Visit New Blog</a></b>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.comBlogger1717125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-40579943483059188102020-06-22T23:13:00.000+01:002020-06-22T23:13:22.494+01:00Marked Change<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-size: 85%;">This is my last post, at least for the foreseeable future, on this blog.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 85%;">
Over a year after </span><a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2019/04/ask-ilb-why-isnt-this-blog-self-hosted.html" style="font-size: 85%;" target="_blank">saying that I didn't need to self-host a blog</a><span style="font-size: 85%;">, and then proceeding to not self-host a blog for over a year, I decided earlier this month to take the plunge and actually do so.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 85%;">
There isn't really a reason behind this - I would have happily continued writing here - other than the fact that I wanted to see if I could. As it turns out, and with no shortage of help from </span><a href="http://domsigns.com/" rel="nofollow" style="font-size: 85%;" target="_blank">DomSigns</a><span style="font-size: 85%;">, I can.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: 85%;">Two pointers, then:</span><br />
<br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">(i) My new blog is at <a href="http://innocentlb.com/" target="_blank">innocentlb.com</a></span></b><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: 85%;">This is where all my new content will be from now on. If you've got me linked on a blogroll, or a feed, or are linking to me in any way, then please update these links. My socials will still be the same, as will my disastrous attempts at entertainment and my weak form of humour.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>(ii) This blog will remain active</b></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 85%;">
I'm not planning to migrate all my old content over due to the fact that I'm lazy amount of formatting I put in to display the posts here on Blogger, plus all the cyclical backlinks to older content. I'm going to continue to link back to old content here from my new blog too, so don't be surprised by the twinned sites. Honestly, this makes it easier for me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 85%;">
Thanks for reading, if after twelve years, you still are. See you on the other side.</span><br /></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 85%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-size: 85%;">- ILB</span></span></div>
Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-63331760938756045282020-06-10T14:13:00.005+01:002020-06-10T14:43:44.352+01:00Being an Arse<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] So you're in London?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] Yes. Are you in London too?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] Yeah.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">* ILB offers you his hand to shake.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] Do you like to look at ladies' arses if you can get a peek?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I don't know what I was more confused about - the fact that she didn't respond to my hand or the fact that she'd just started talking about arses. Not that I knew how to respond, either.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] Maybe. I'm fairly sure it depends whose arse.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I should probably point out that I had never really considered this before. I'd been careful, or at least as I could be, to try and show respect to everyone, and as far as all things were considered, that included not openly looking at anyone's arse. One of the boys on my table in GCSE Science hadn't been able to talk about anything else. I was more discerning... and, besides, with people I fancied, I was more interested in their face.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] I thought so... you seem like the kind of person who would look at arses... hee hee!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">That's not what I said, but okay.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] That's not what I said, but okay! :)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] Are you black?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] No, I'm not black. I'm white British. European, really.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] I'm black. Do you want to look at my arse?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">At this point I kind of realised that I was in dangerous territory. I didn't know this at the time, but this was the sort of conversation that could have turned into race fetishisation at any point, and that she appeared to be leading me towards it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In any case, I <i>really</i> didn't know how to answer that one. On account of the fact that we'd been chatting for less than half a minute, I think I'm justified in saying that I didn't know her too well. I probably would have liked to know more than 'black Londoner who likes to talk about arses', which is all I had to go on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So I had two options:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">(i) This was sexchat, so I could just answer yes. But on account of the fact that she had <i>just</i> told me she was black and <i>immediately</i> asked about arses, I was nervous about the racial implications. Also, it wasn't entirely true.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">(ii) I could answer no, but that would seem cold and callous. And she might think I was saying that because she was black.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I paused for a while to run through lines in my head. If she <i>hadn't</i> made a point of being black <i>in the same line as asking about her arse</i> then I wouldn't have been in such a quandary. In fact, I'd never met someone in sexchat who had ever mentioned their race so overtly. I wanted to keep the conversation going, but I was in over my head and it probably would have been best to back out.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] Black women like me have the best arses and of course you would like to look, wouldn't you?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Okay, well, at this point, I knew what her message was. This, of course, may have been her kink (and years later I did, indeed, talk to a person of colour who got off on showing her arse to white guys - I was uncomfortable about the fetishism there, too, but still...). I wasn't particularly into it, but good etiquette (even in sexchat) has always been important to maintain.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] I'm sure your arse is lovely.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Wonderfully non-committal, ILB. Well done.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] You know it!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Okay, now steer the conversation in a different direction.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] Tell me more about you? Do you study, or are you working now?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] I'm a woman</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] Yes, I know! :) I'd like to know more, though.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[YoOo] I like men who look at arses</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[ILB] Okay, but I do have to say, isn't that a little objectifying?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">* YoOo has disconnected (Quit: Connection reset by peer)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
About a decade later, I bent over to pick something off the floor and my girlfriend at the time rhapsodised about my arse. That I don't understand at all, but then she explained to me that she always appreciated a good arse, and that mine was a fine example. Probably a lie, but I took the compliment.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-size: 13.6px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I mean, I still don't get it, really. But it felt safer talking about arses with a girlfriend than with someone on the internet who tried to bring race into the equation.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.6px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Later on that day I showed my mutual appreciation for her arse with my fingers and tongue. And that's the sort of thing I was, indeed, comfortable with.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-51302794776808054882020-06-07T16:16:00.003+01:002020-06-07T16:16:49.827+01:00KRT31+<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Between the ages of 16 and 23, I had a mane of long, messy, curly, rock star hair. For those of you who haven't met me, my hair is jet black (with bits of grey now, which weren't there at 16!). I stopped getting it cut in my teens not because of any particular stylistic choice, but just to make myself even more different from everyone else - as if I wasn't already - and, let's admit it, to annoy my grandparents.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Eventually my long hair became an important part of my identity. If I left it for a few days, it did start to get greasy (I had a few friends asking me if I was going for a Snape impression); if I washed it thoroughly, however, and then blow-dried it (which took, understandably, a <i>long </i>time, due to the amount of hair there), it looked fresh and clean, and felt pleasantly soft. I also developed a disturbing habit of chewing bits of my hair (which was long enough to sweep into my mouth), which thankfully I grew out of eventually.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Nobody in my family liked it, although my mum took some pictures of me with my rock star hair playing a guitar like a rock star would. My friends didn't matter either way, although they did remark upon it when I eventually got my hair cut short. I had my first girlfriend, and lost my virginity, with long hair. I got into touch with my sexuality with long hair. I even managed to get my first three paid jobs with long hair... although, in at least one of those, I wasn't the only one.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I lived in student hall throughout my first year of university with an assortment of straight girls who were fascinated by the sheer amount of hair attached to an ILB who didn't actually care much about what they did with it. <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2017/11/loll.html" target="_blank">Loll</a> experimented with brushing my hair into a variety of partings including zig-zags; the beautiful girl in the room next to mine straight up gave me a few products to try; someone I didn't know who came to visit and allegedly worked at <a href="http://www.toniandguy.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Toni & Guy</a> gave me a haircut completely by eye. Several flatmates, most of them girls, straightened my hair (as it turns out, my hair is naturally curly; straightening it increased its length by a third!). Some people just seemed to want to touch it. I wasn't going to object.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">When I got cast in a movie, the hair and makeup guy had to cut most of my hair off, since the film was set in the '50s and the only people with long hair in the '50s were the Beatles. Pictures were taken of this 'do, and in fact, one of them still exists on my Oyster card and one I used as the author photograph at the back of my first book.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I wasn't happy with this, but hey ho.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Why bring this up now? Well, over the last few years I've started to go bald, and although my hair at the back is longer than it used to be, the effects of this means that my current hairstyle looks a bit like a mullet. It's still mostly there, and still black and messy, but I decided (after about a decade of indecision) that I wanted to grow my hair long again, or at least long enough to have a broad sweep across the top. Any haircut I've had recently includes requests like "please just take about a millimetre off, tidy it up, but please, no shorter!".</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">During lockdown, I haven't had anything close to a haircut (shaving my beard off haphazardly with my razor doesn't really count), and as a result, my hair is longer, messier and more voluminous than it has been since 2008. If I wash thoroughly, shampoo, condition and blowdry (I always do, even when I've had hair of numbers 2 and 3, as a hangover from my past when I <i>needed</i> to dry it), then it looks... okay. It's not <i>good</i> - I mean, this is me, none of me is ever going to look <i>good</i> - but, overall, it's all right.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I mean, it's not what it used to be. It never will be.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But it will do.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-40767869427355675612020-05-31T15:13:00.002+01:002020-05-31T15:16:14.793+01:00Fiction: Bozo<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxrsmEKiy-UK0jmnflgHy-jTg-y9QBCIgl84s1MBYZc955Q4_2nCbEgVVwiIKf7aGUmKhoMqQV3nDDiuPhP42Od7LqAYwX4jucI86hZzywleKRCUt4d7RTLzAY6Z8LbXpgndkzY-lJDZR/s1600/IMG_20200531_143133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1124" data-original-width="1124" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxrsmEKiy-UK0jmnflgHy-jTg-y9QBCIgl84s1MBYZc955Q4_2nCbEgVVwiIKf7aGUmKhoMqQV3nDDiuPhP42Od7LqAYwX4jucI86hZzywleKRCUt4d7RTLzAY6Z8LbXpgndkzY-lJDZR/s200/IMG_20200531_143133.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I like the forest outside too...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">We hadn’t even gotten around to closing the door yet – and, to be frank, we wouldn’t until we had finished; nor would we do such frivolous things as learning each other’s names. All I knew was that I needed her now, now, <i>now </i>– and, from the enthusiasm in her kisses and the way she was practically tearing her clothes off as if buttons didn’t exist, I suppose she wanted me too.<br />
<br />
She tumbled backwards onto the sofa and pulled me down with her. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, but we’d never make it that far. Off came my top, and then my bra – her lips closed around one of my nipples, and as she flicked the very tip of her tongue right over the edge, I let out a long, slow, guttural moan.<br />
<br />
Slick with lust, desperate for more, I fumbled with the clasp and kicked off my jeans while she kissed her way down my cleavage and along my stomach. Flipping me around so she could get between my legs, she made a sort of happy strangled growl...<br />
<br />
...and then she paused.<br />
<br />
“What is <i>that</i>?”<br />
<br />
I didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. I already knew – everyone asks. My boyfriend doesn’t know why I keep it around. But then, he isn’t here, is he?<br />
<br />
“It’s a model clown...”<br />
“But why is it here?”<br />
“It came with the flat. And, I mean, I think it works, you know, with the light coming through the windows.”<br />
“Why do you keep it around?”<br />
<br />
It’s a fair question.<br />
<br />
“Does it bother you?”<br />
<br />
She paused.<br />
<br />
“Because, well, he’s got his face in his hands,” I pressed on. “It’s not like he’s watching.”<br />
<br />
“You know what? <i>Let </i>him watch,” she said, dipping her head forwards and sliding her tongue inside me.<br />
<br />
I’m so lucky.</span></span><br />
<div align="center">
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "times";">[Written as part of <a href="http://www.sexblogofsorts.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Charlie Powell</a>’s 300-word writing challenge! The picture at the top is the prompt for the scene.]</span></span></span></i></div>
Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-40198633931516121412020-05-29T17:11:00.003+01:002020-05-29T17:11:45.157+01:00Southern Hemisphere Dinner<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I don't quite remember this as well as I'd like. It was, after all, about 17 years ago, and the whole midweek was something of a haze. I mostly remember the heat, and the humidity. I don't deal too well with heat. Most of the time there, anyway, I didn't wear too many clothes. Not that that didn't generate any heat either.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I've told this story before and mentioned that she was wearing a bikini. That's not technically true, although what she was wearing could be termed as "skimpy". The top covered her shoulders, but her midriff could certainly be seen. The jean shorts were... short. She was wearing trainers, which I remember. I was in one of my T-shirts and the all-purpose combat shorts I used to wear (when I was still confident about my legs. I'll never wear shorts now).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Louise had wanted to take me to this restaurant that she liked, but I didn't think we'd have the time. As it turned out, we had much more time than I had anticipated; our general activities were tiring, but... as I said... something of a haze. On my last night there, with most of my things already packed (I'd only taken a backpack, of course), we went along, with her assurance that they did vegetarian food.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"They don't really <i>get </i>the concept here," she had admitted, "but they'll do you something friendly if you want them to. I tend to say that I'm a Buddhist, they understand that."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"But you're a Christian..." I pointed out.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"So are you," she countered, "but they don't know that, do they?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">They didn't. But they clearly weren't happy with how we turned up. The very posh waiter (with a faux British accent; I was expecting something more South African) had eyes that lingered on my untidy hair, my loose tee, and Louise's exposed belly button. He called me "sir" and her "modom" and showed us to a table that was as far away from any other customers as possible. He bustled away almost immediately, and we were served by someone else from then on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I don't remember the food. I think it was good, but I'm not sure. Everyone else there was white; I wondered if I should remark upon this, but didn't think it prudent to do so. We'd spent most of the time talking about racial division in the post-Apartheid era and I think we'd exhausted the subject. By this point, she'd been living there for about five years and had spent most of her time reading and swimming. I got the impression that I was there for want of someone to talk to, not that I complained.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"This place is a little... strait-laced," I settled on. "We should have dressed up."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Into what? We're the ones paying the bill."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I was impressed, even after years of knowing her, as how ballsy she could be.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"In fact, we'll show them. We should have sex."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"We've <i>had</i> sex," I pointed out. I wasn't wrong - that had been the central theme of my visit.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Here, I mean. In the disabled bathroom. Nobody's using it. I've been watching."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I mean... well... what? How? Why? Okay, well not 'why'. But how? Wouldn't everybody notice two people in shorter clothes going into a bathroom together, and then coming out together with flushed faces? And you're not exactly quiet."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Use your imagination, ILB!" she said. "I'll go..." (here she fished in her purse and threw a few denominations of Rand onto the table) "...you wait a bit, and pay, and <i>then</i> you come to the bathroom. Walk a different way, behind the plants or something, and nobody will notice." And off she swayed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The replacement waitress came over, not acknowledging that I was there with someone else who no longer appeared to be there. I paid with Louise's money and gave her a tip and a bit of breezy chatter. I waited for five more nervous minutes, and then got up and made my way to the bathroom.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">She hadn't been wrong about nobody noticing. The richer ones had mobiles they were chatting into or businessy newspapers to read. Some of them were absorbed in conversation or tucking into white people food. Nobody looked at me, as if I wasn't there. That suited me fine. The door to the bathroom was open, so I just pushed it a little. And in I went.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Louise was sitting there having already pulled down her jean shorts. She hadn't been wearing anything else underneath, and as I locked the door, I realised that I hadn't known that beforehand. But, knowing Louise, it wasn't too much of a surprise.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"You're right," I said as she sank to the floor, dragging me with her. "Nobody noticed."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I'm always right," she shrugged, as I slid into her for the fourth time that day.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-60041532243023232222020-05-28T14:51:00.001+01:002020-05-28T14:52:16.366+01:00Boom!<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">When one considers the fact that I have occasional sex dreams, it's also important to bear in mind that very few of them are particularly explicit. I have plenty of dreams about being cheated on, but I barely ever <i>see</i> them having sex in that particular context. If I have a dream about <i>myself </i>having sex with someone, it's generally very... softcore, I suppose. Seeing things from my point of view tends not to yield anything more explicit than boobs; if, as is often the case, I see things from the "3D platformer" third-person angle, any sex I'm going to be having also isn't going to reveal too much.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Nine out of ten sex dreams I have are about me not getting to have sex in any case. I still have memories of the one I had back in my late teens, in which I had no less than <i>three</i> girlfriends and spent the whole thing trying to get at least one of them to come over for... whatever counted for "Netflix and chill" back in the VHS era.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Magnetic storage and making love? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'll think about it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">One of the things that barely ever happens... even if Dreamy ILB <i>does</i> get laid... is a particularly explicit orgasm. Orgasms happen, I'm aware, but my dreams don't tend to factor them in. The sex itself may be brief - whether it's me, someone else, or the <i>Blue Peter</i> presenters who appeared in a 15-year-old's surrealist dream world - very brief, in fact, lasting no more than a few seconds. Orgasms don't happen, or if they do, it's very quick and very clean. Implied, I suppose, rather than genuine. We know they happen; we know it's messy. My dreamself doesn't tend to comply.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And then we have the dream the other week, which remains sketched into my brain. A dream which didn't just involve myself (and Jill, who turned up at the end), but no less than <i>two</i> fellow bloggers (one of whom I've only met once), with huge amounts of nudity, openly encouraged boob kisses, and a truly spectacular, all-singing-all-dancing, unrealistically extrovert orgasm, putting paid to the sheets, awakening the entire neighbourhood and soaking me in girlcum, despite being feet away from her!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">For the love of cheese, brain! I'm sure there's a happy medium somewhere there! Are you going to find it, or...?</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-21068281696019154982020-05-24T17:51:00.001+01:002020-05-24T18:13:53.963+01:00Soft Porn Sunday: Nikki Fritz & Everett Rodd<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHegiGh4vpE7QKnGxl53wQVNtjjR4NUoui3Mg7QLzfy-jRAbC0ymrMPlvHlCOiKKmbxN9Kb1-EUghAhyqsqu-WrVxlm1S2ylLReOkQONwmWevpUKwOahrtDHGfR0988AA_3fRkeIpJKCk/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h00m44s515.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHegiGh4vpE7QKnGxl53wQVNtjjR4NUoui3Mg7QLzfy-jRAbC0ymrMPlvHlCOiKKmbxN9Kb1-EUghAhyqsqu-WrVxlm1S2ylLReOkQONwmWevpUKwOahrtDHGfR0988AA_3fRkeIpJKCk/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h00m44s515.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>The Apprentice 2030: </i>"You're fired!"</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">THE YEAR IS 2030: All sorts of transport are blocked. Supplies are running low, hope and happiness are a distant memory, and Sam Smith still has a musical career. Dominic Cummings is still alive, slaking his thirst with the blood of the innocent. To prevent Earth from turning into a hideous dystopia, God-Emperor Morgz declares martial law. The people are huddled and fearful, and suddenly becoming unfettered, nature starts to reclaim the empty cities. Wild Pokémon roam free where humans once walked unencumbered.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">A desperate populace turns to ILB, the last hope in a shattered world. His bleary-eyed stare from behind a wall of beard hair provides little confidence, but then he comes out with the words that provide civilisation's ultimate redemption:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Just travel back to the nineties, innit. That's what they did in <i>Veronica 2030</i>."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Appearance:</b> <i>Veronica 2030</i> (1999)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Characters:</b> Camilla Likenthrow & Dan Silver</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Somewhere in a lab so high-tech that the computers are from that famous manufacturer "DOTCOM", <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigzUMo8AY7G1gSVjSRFSReO1HCz6EULL-4UpoU9-17BxA3U3dGF2zahpsTvrxn_bpBwjVtRiAXhC4ahzF3uSJRS41D_hUpHtydKxIANdjimfukltFcN9qPfiB4FaGORn46FE-0giyXDa0/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h17m02s140.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigzUMo8AY7G1gSVjSRFSReO1HCz6EULL-4UpoU9-17BxA3U3dGF2zahpsTvrxn_bpBwjVtRiAXhC4ahzF3uSJRS41D_hUpHtydKxIANdjimfukltFcN9qPfiB4FaGORn46FE-0giyXDa0/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h17m02s140.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Elon Musk must be jealous.</span></td></tr>
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two scientists, who wear lab coats because of course they do they're scientists, have created a <strike>sex robot</strike> <strike>animated RealDoll</strike> pleasure droid named Veronica (because that's her name). Through the magic of TECHNOLOGY!!!, she travels back in time for some reason.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This is, of course, the excuse for having a plot not set entirely in the future so they don't have to waste any money on special effects. On account of the fact that Veronica's loading sequence looks like someone tried to recreate <i>ReBoot</i> on a Commodore 64 in half an hour, I'm not overly sure that's a bad thing. The rest of the film is something closely approximating a caper, Veronica (Julia Ann) sleeping with basically everyone (because she has no other skills) while good guy Harry (Joseph Roth) and bad girl Camilla (Fritz) vie for her services.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In 1999, as you may remember, the entirety of the world's economy was based on the adult industry. If you had an attractive model and a talented photographer, you automatically became a millionaire and could afford to do things like set up a TV channel in under a few hours and ride around getting head in a limo. Camilla Likenthrow does these things. Harry, who owns a sex shop in Downtown Brick Wall, does not.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm going to skip the rest of the plot, suffice to say there is a happy ending. Everyone gets what they want, except Camilla, who has to make do with having sex with her henchman Dan Silver (Rodd). Quite why she's having sex with him I'm not sure. Some sort of spite fuck or something. It's never quite explained beyond 'needs to blow off steam, oh hey, here's a bed'.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpOvTuKu586gepcbSgOaNiKWYwuSEgC_xXdlBHQnN439leF0YDZSyIGJ747X_o40bGepHDH5ai7fXovgyibfVo3gFH9ZjFmM6xv3HJjGZPu1n6jLHQsHx8iRhbxJM-XJieAdmVXeWSgV2/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h36m16s046.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpOvTuKu586gepcbSgOaNiKWYwuSEgC_xXdlBHQnN439leF0YDZSyIGJ747X_o40bGepHDH5ai7fXovgyibfVo3gFH9ZjFmM6xv3HJjGZPu1n6jLHQsHx8iRhbxJM-XJieAdmVXeWSgV2/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h36m16s046.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Can't she fix her own fitted sheet?</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Unlike a lot of sex scenes, this one doesn't bother with disrobing, or even seduction beyond a perfunctory "now get to work, and don't STOP until I tell you to!" from Camilla - she doesn't even provide a safeword, careless woman as she is - it just quickly fades into sex on the aforementioned bed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I will note two things about this bed: one, it is the same bed that most of the sex in this film has happened on. Veronica/Camilla, Veronica/Gunther, and Veronica/Jason have all happened on it, and now Camilla/Dan is happening. They haven't changed the sheets once throughout the ehtire thing. Two, it's not even made very well, insofar as you can see the mattress quite clearly as the fitted sheet has come loose and nobody's replaced it! Nice one, movie!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Okay, so, the sex. As I mentioned, this is comfort sex with someone who's angry, so there's no real <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZm_LdVk6D70Ilq4-dAfdlWZ0nMTFM4GZSYdeEknGE6obRj_TSpRhXS15g0TKwNRT6hbSKlNwAUFEBupQtSNqoaXS-p2qIgPpDXWXYV0jd_WeXjrZXbfEWxyPpX8XZ696N9-QdTYYFwUri/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h49m09s375.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZm_LdVk6D70Ilq4-dAfdlWZ0nMTFM4GZSYdeEknGE6obRj_TSpRhXS15g0TKwNRT6hbSKlNwAUFEBupQtSNqoaXS-p2qIgPpDXWXYV0jd_WeXjrZXbfEWxyPpX8XZ696N9-QdTYYFwUri/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h49m09s375.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Lock in the auxiliary power, Chewie!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
need to have any sort of romantic build-up. It starts with Camilla riding Dan in the cowgirl position, which is a simple and classic one. If you're not familiar with Nikki Fritz, you should know that she is unnaturally tall and has well-proportioned natural breasts. In this flick she also has long, shiny dark hair, so there's plenty going on there, which is perhaps why they put her on top for this.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Everett Rodd can't act either, so maybe that's why.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">A strange sequence of events happen following the few seconds of astride sex they start off with. Camilla does an odd sort of sexual dominance thing where she brushes Dan with her hair (which, as I may have mentioned, is long and shiny and dark), which I think is supposed to be sensation play although it could just be a way to show off Nikki Fritz's hair. It could be oral sex, but I'm not sure, not that it matters anyway, because after another few seconds of that and a bit where Camilla looks like she's about to attack him with her teeth and WAIT, WHAT IS THAT?!</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3WNpvYf-ce-mDgS2oYBkkS2L-UUqRLrE5GDNuLgtmFH7aHq-ZTB_VdzuFlxI5vHiF-FRTJ2FV5DuBiq6kRCD4HyqxTF-2b4pPDN25lLp0QEKY2vh9aITMmjiNYFu_2im6ZWj3HXOx0r1/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h52m26s203.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3WNpvYf-ce-mDgS2oYBkkS2L-UUqRLrE5GDNuLgtmFH7aHq-ZTB_VdzuFlxI5vHiF-FRTJ2FV5DuBiq6kRCD4HyqxTF-2b4pPDN25lLp0QEKY2vh9aITMmjiNYFu_2im6ZWj3HXOx0r1/s320/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-16h52m26s203.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">SERIOUSLY, THIS IS REALLY OBVIOUS!</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Someone fire the editing department! During the sequence, and I've just noticed this, there are several shots in which you can very plainly see the little bit of black latex Rodd is wearing to prevent real genital contact! It even catches the light a couple of times! I know softcore is kind of about suspension of disbelief, bit there's a limit!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. Camilla doesn't actually eat Dan, because immediately it cuts back to yet more riding, although in this case there's a mirror (in which you can see a bit of the studio light!), so you can have a look at her back, as well as her front, if backs are your thing. I like the way Nikki Fritz moves her body - it's sensual and powerful, like a snake (rather than just bouncing away), and they keep her front and centre for the next few seconds of sideways sex (in come cases almost completely hiding Rodd from view!).</span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnovJL-rEXPZMk-cNgjbsPrQKH3hnEKfgf9WpSXgG661COkONZyYefBn4O9ERCFW27iEWgL2v_3pIBwQwgQCNCf7vk-f2RsKurtFc1pJAAj0EJ5Eb0I-_EWvE9E29qc1p2InhU4iEtZtc/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-17h18m22s078.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnovJL-rEXPZMk-cNgjbsPrQKH3hnEKfgf9WpSXgG661COkONZyYefBn4O9ERCFW27iEWgL2v_3pIBwQwgQCNCf7vk-f2RsKurtFc1pJAAj0EJ5Eb0I-_EWvE9E29qc1p2InhU4iEtZtc/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-17h18m22s078.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Nice art on the walls... sorry, what was I reviewing?</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The more astute of you may have noticed that I've mentioned the shots (and the type of sex contained within) as lasting only a few seconds. This is very much the case for the whole scene, in fact - it's a brief scene as it is (and one of the last in the film) and they appear to be trying to pack a lot in for what they have. The result is a sequence of nothing more than snapshots of sex which supposedly lasts a little longer than what we're shown. See also: doggie style (eleven seconds), spanking (twenty-five seconds, but that involves two perspective changes), yet more riding (nineteen seconds), reverse missionary (fourteen seconds), and more doggie style (sixteen seconds, and that's the end of the scene!)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Of course, all the above is immaterial. What I really wanted to talk about is that there are a few <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvubOrjMDreySPxJiaN6JaKtx3del9YG6NyuAFNcv2zxenxMOeZ-eB3R3D01vN4f5NPwU_8PrC2ufaZI_0e0k-1IkCU3Lu63LqTdsfrMJzokgKgZ1pOHTQIxm4fyThObIlQAkraUBYZ0Q/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-17h20m17s296.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvubOrjMDreySPxJiaN6JaKtx3del9YG6NyuAFNcv2zxenxMOeZ-eB3R3D01vN4f5NPwU_8PrC2ufaZI_0e0k-1IkCU3Lu63LqTdsfrMJzokgKgZ1pOHTQIxm4fyThObIlQAkraUBYZ0Q/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-24-17h20m17s296.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Colour contrast and back dimples. Fantastic.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
seconds where there's an extreme close-up of the pair (revealing an incredibly cute pair of little dimples on Fritz's back! Squeeee!) showing a pleasing, but intentional, contrast of colour. Both characters are white, but Camilla has something of a tan, whereas Dan doesn't, so when you get their bodies together there's a nice differentiation between the two.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[Political ILB suggests this is a kind of class struggle symbolism, indicating that bourgeois Camilla, the rich, is the dominant force having time to sunbed and get a noticeable tan, whereas Dan is the working man and has paler skin due to his lack of sunlight and submissive rôle in this scene. Rational ILB maintains that this isn't the case at all, but Political ILB isn't listening.]</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The whole scene is overlaid with electric guitar-led music (softcore historicists will tell you that the electric guitar is indicative of "slightly harder" sex), which adds to the scene.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm really only doing this one because I wanted to point out the colour contrast and appreciate Fritz' hair, but as it turns out, this is a better scene than I remember. It's by no means the <i>best</i> sex scene in the film... that one's Camilla/Veronica, <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2018/08/soft-porn-sunday-julia-ann-nikki-fritz.html" target="_blank">which I've also reviewed</a>... but it's worthwhile. It's okay. It's more okay when you realise that Dan isn't <i>really </i>having sex with Camilla (the black latex is a dead giveaway), as she's <i>far </i>too good for him. If you want to check it out, then do so, but in the context of watching the whole thing, rather than just this one scene.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I mean, I didn't watch it myself until a couple of weeks ago, and until <i>then </i>I had assumed Dan to be the main character. And wouldn't that be a tragedy?</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-76369025410685778572020-05-15T18:43:00.003+01:002020-05-17T14:03:46.280+01:00Send Me<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In my early twenties, after a game of strip poker which went particularly unfavourably, for me (I've never been good at poker), I decided that I wanted photos of my naked form. To this day, I'm not entirely sure <i>why</i>... but, somewhere along the line, my brain decided that if I was already going to be naked, there should be pictures.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Thus pictures were taken - with my hands covering anything I deemed too explicit, but barely - nipples were visible, though, as was my face, the body I've never been happy with, and the hairstyle I had at the time which a friend described years later as being "like a hybrid between Jesus and Elvis" (which I think I was meant to take as a compliment. I've never been sure.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Like I said, I'm still not exactly certain what I was intending to do with nudes. For a very long time, I couldn't bear to look at them... that is to say, most of them, excluding one.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The first photo to be taken was my favourite (if you can call it that) of the bunch. I was sitting up (all the others had me lying down), my legs hunched upwards to conceal anything, and looking downwards, making me look introspective, intriguing and, above all, vulnerable. In my more pretentious moments, I said to myself that this picture typified me at my most raw - unprotected by clothes and in a defensive position - whereas, when I was being realistic, I just saw it as a good piece of art. The fact that I don't have film-star looks helped in that regard.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">As much as I may have wanted to at the time, I had to be careful with this snap. It's fair enough that it was a picture of me taken with my knowing consent (and the fact that it was my idea, of course...); that being said, there was no escaping the fact that this was a nude and therefore couldn't be distributed wily-nilly. The one place I could think of to post it was in an online community I was part of, but they had a ban against nudity in place <i>and</i> I didn't really want it to be seen by them, either.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So I cheated. I cropped a little 100x100 of my face and saved it as a JPEG, uploading it to the community to use as an avatar to link to my profile. I used a version of the whole thing as the cover for a demo CD, knowing full well that the little hole in the middle of the disc would eliminate the revelation that I was completely bare. I even had it online somewhere in a publicly accessible place, even though it was hidden in some subdirectories and nobody would know where to go in any case.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Eventually, though, I did send it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">A friend of mine - who I'd only met once or twice in real life - and I had an increasingly flirty relationship at this point, and at one point she sent <i>me</i> a nude (I didn't ask - she just <i>did</i>!) via MSN. It was at once clear that this wasn't actually her - just a porn shot with her face Photoshopped in, albeit quite professionally; nevertheless, not her - but I didn't have any fakes nudes of myself to send it return, so I sent my one. She was keen, and in fact, she asked if there were any more.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Now, I know what you're thinking. There were more - quite a few more - and, although I didn't like them very much at all, they were readily accessible on my hard drive and it wouldn't be too much of a problem to upload them and give her a link. But, then again, these were pictures of me I didn't like, and some of them were more explicit than my favourite one (although, again, hands in strategic places). Putting them up on webspace might have been an issue if anyone important had found them (whereas the one I liked might have easily been construed as art).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Eventually, after dithering for a few minutes, I just packed them all into a ZIP and sent it to her, which was probably the right decision.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Thanks!" she said. "Free porn!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I considered telling her that grainy pictures of me in a friend's bedroom taken on a whim after losing a round of strip poker wasn't exactly porn. But then I didn't end up saying any of that. I probably said something like "any time!", which would have been a lie, since I didn't plan to ever take any nudes again and probably wouldn't be sending them to her if I did (spoiler: I did, actually, even though I'd forgotten about them - I have recently rediscovered some and they're not as hideous as I'd expect); nevertheless, for some reason or another, I found myself recently wondering exactly what she did with the pics, whatever she ended up using them for.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[<i>Nota Bené</i>: I have no idea what she did with the pictures. If she masturbated over them at any point - though I don't imagine how anyone would - then I wish she would have told me; I would have gotten +10 Sex Points!]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I was on the verge of e-mailing her to ask when I remembered that, in my recent plough through my computer, I'd managed to unearth an entire archive of everything I'd ever uploaded to my former website(s). Lo and behold, two of those pictures are there - including one I'd forgotten about completely.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">On looking at them now, I feel exactly how I felt back then.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So pretty.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-59683269380994213842020-05-12T14:52:00.001+01:002020-05-12T14:52:18.319+01:00Upgrade<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">My dad won the lottery a couple of weeks ago, and his first act after doing so was to call me and ask how much I'd need to buy a new computer.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">He's astonishingly perceptive. It can't be denied that I need one, although I take good care of my tech. I've got a Toshiba laptop from 2003 that still works well enough; I'm deeply in love with the one I'm using now - my trusty Dell netbook that I've been using since 2009 when I decided that I needed a new PC and succumbed to the TV adverts that made them look like sweeties. But it has been years, and I've used it nearly every day, so behold: the dinosaur.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Certain things don't work because they don't like the amount of RAM I've got, or the amount of memory left, or Windows XP. I can't install any new Java updates because YOLO, and updating Flash is a non-starter. I'm working from home at the moment using Google Drive, and getting <i>that</i> to work is a real adventure.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So I bought, using my dad's money and some of my own to make up the shortfall, a new Lenovo. it's beautiful, and it's shiny, and it will be here in two to four weeks.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The other day (well, I say that; I actually hit upon this idea years ago) I had the epiphany that to mitigate the emotional exhaustion of jumping onto an unfamiliar PC I could transfer over everything in my My Documents folder, basically to give myself a starter pack. I could set everything up (on something I'm realistically only going to use for blogging, e-mails and music) with the comfort of my art, my music, my academia... and my porn.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I don't have a lot of porn on my hard drive. My external HD died (so I can't use it to transfer over a whole My Documents) and most of my porn was on that or my Disks of Wonder</span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd">™ - I do, however, have a fair collection - mostly short scenes with the occasional full movie - hidden in the folder named "Don't Look Here!". Considering this amounts to 9.99 GB when one discounts all the <i>Emmanuelle</i> series and the first series of <i>Co-Ed Confidential</i>, that's probably the entirety of the rest of my documents put together.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd">Since I don't have an external HD to rely upon and I really don't need to be spending any more money, I've had a root around and unearthed a number of USB pen drives that I can use, including but not limited to Darth USB (a pen drive in the shape of Vader which holds 1G GB, the one that The Oxford Seamstress' brother got for me over a decade back (4 GB) and one my dead auntie bequeathed to me (8 GB). I had more, but the company I sent them to never sent them back in the little SAE I provided.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd">Le sigh.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd">Aaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway, in order to fit it all onto USB sticks in order to for transfermaration, I'm having to delete bits I don't want. I've ploughed through pictures, purged documents I don't need any more, deleted update programs I've long since used to update... basically, anything I don't and never have used. It's all gone. The rest can stay and go onto Darth USB.</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd">And then I came to my porn folder.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Oh, well, I can't delete that</i>, I said to myself. <i>I might need that</i>.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>I don't watch that, but I might want to. Maybe at some point.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Can't delete that, either.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>Or that.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd"><i>I'd be watching that right now if there wasn't someone else in the room.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="e24Kjd">I wonder how much it might cost to get a new external HD, after all...<i> </i></span></span></span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-32901737759318450902020-05-03T14:03:00.000+01:002020-05-03T14:03:16.913+01:00Soft Porn Sunday: Shyra DeLand & David Usher<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I notice the stupidest details.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I mean, yeah, these are details I'm not meant to be noticing. But I'm seeing the outside of the castle set that's been used in the "bridge" scene in <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2011/05/soft-porn-sunday-shannan-leigh-david.html" target="_blank">Virgins of Sherwood Forest</a> (2000) - complete with bridge - and acknowledging it. I'm recognising Gabriella Hall and noticing that she's not appearing in a sexual rôle at all... but then she was probably filming something else at this point. I'm fairly certain that the set <i>inside</i> the castle was used in <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2013/05/soft-porn-sunday-amber-newman-stella.html" target="_blank">Dungeon of Desire</a> (1999), and more than certain that the costume worn by David Christensen as Merlin is exactly the same costume Burke Morgan wore as <strike>Merlin, also</strike> Marcus in <i>Dungeon of Desire</i>. There's a titular similarity with <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2011/07/soft-porn-sunday-petra-sexton-david.html" target="_blank">The Exotic House of Wax</a> (1997), and a cast all but lifted from <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2014/01/soft-porn-sunday-shyra-deland-christian.html" target="_blank">Andromina: The Pleasure Planet</a> (1999).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The fact that it's the same studio shouldn't be too much of a surprise, really.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Appearance: </b><i>The Exotic Time Machine II: Forbidden Encounters</i> (2000)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Characters: </b>Melissa & Giuseppe</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">A little bit of context before I dive headlong into this one <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2011/01/soft-porn-sunday-leah-york-jason.html" target="_blank">as I did nine years ago</a> might be nice, right? This is part of a slew of historical fantasy erotica made around the same period (gosh! you don't say!) by Surrender; it's also part two (of two) in the Exotic Time Machine series. The original <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2015/02/soft-porn-sunday-nikki-fritz-buck-obrian.html" target="_blank">Exotic Time Machine</a> (1998) is very difficult to find, at least in its un-edited version - the Italian cut retains all the sex scenes, but the English-language version is heavily edited and rarely shows anything more than brief nudity.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">There is, allegedly, a VHS of the uncut English version which can go for almost a thousand US dollars, but I've never seen one. This, the sequel, is much more easy to access and has all the sex intact; since one of my very favourite instant-orgasm scenes happens halfway through, a quick prayer of thanks may be in order.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The other day I watched <i>TETM2</i> in its entirety for the first time in what must be a decade, discovering along the way that my freakishly accurate memory is, indeed, freakishly accurate. I was curious about this sex scene, though, as I remembered the context very well, but not the sex!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So. Melissa (Shyra DeLand, who's very pretty and should have been in more things) is a reformed villain <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqXfAebvVZBoQYdxI3xA8b0b6LG0rtJ-5I7yMeIO4PhyphenhyphenZ7_7SOejOV5i821GjVuZTGiJOvvazAFwTyH42paGKAnjiFklWOXp1hVSvNK3eM4DmBR54VHAQ9vWr6K6GY6HXIbyLZR0XKFS2/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h01m28s000.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqXfAebvVZBoQYdxI3xA8b0b6LG0rtJ-5I7yMeIO4PhyphenhyphenZ7_7SOejOV5i821GjVuZTGiJOvvazAFwTyH42paGKAnjiFklWOXp1hVSvNK3eM4DmBR54VHAQ9vWr6K6GY6HXIbyLZR0XKFS2/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h01m28s000.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Also starring: A Cushion.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
who travels back in time for some reason. That's basically it; our heroes Chuck (Jason "hooray!" Schnuit) and Darlene (Holly "had sex with Tiger Woods" Sampson) have been gallivanting around with hippies and King Arthur and doing something weird with <strike>MacGuffins</strike> beacons <strike>for no reason</strike> to stop the entirety of existence being destroyed, and then Professor Rachel Conrad (Gabriella Hall) sends Melissa back because she can.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Reason be damned, just send her off without even giving her a beacon to put down. She'll find someone to fuck.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Enter Giuseppe (David Usher, who hasn't yet cut his ridiculous hair since he appeared in <i>Virgins</i>), an all-round patsy for the great Leonardo da Vinci, who's having tortured artist issues and storms off in a huff. I will point out here that da Vinci is played by Kurt "you thought 'Schnuit' was bad?" Schwoebel, doing a questionable Italian accent; in <i>Virgins</i>, he appears, played by Thomas Vozza (credited as Ford "Prefect" Mandalay), complete with questionable Italian accent!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>Excuse me</i>, studio? Why are you having the same character played by two different actors? You were likely filming both movies relatively close together, if not back-to-back... why not just try for a <i>bit</i> of continuity? What is this - <i>The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus</i>?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">See? Stupidest details.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Giuseppe (who doesn't appear to own any shirts that are designed to stay on) and Melissa have sex because they can ("who's gonna know?") , and here we have yet more details for me to notice, if I can concentrate. I may not have a problem with that.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDWnwgKkNTa9sL0_tnjgxuwVTBBu3vf5AcE0uqZbhFor0SaAC8wgG3t4-Q5Fc-1iV8__OrCBekxNzokrX_n-BtRCX1b7lxBOFKdHUhUCRvo6_I62fTuNuS9FrT-6h2wn4cqHkzlBA0wNMA/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h06m04s890.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDWnwgKkNTa9sL0_tnjgxuwVTBBu3vf5AcE0uqZbhFor0SaAC8wgG3t4-Q5Fc-1iV8__OrCBekxNzokrX_n-BtRCX1b7lxBOFKdHUhUCRvo6_I62fTuNuS9FrT-6h2wn4cqHkzlBA0wNMA/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h06m04s890.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The legendary boob close-up, with bonus goose pimples.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The first thing you (read: me) can notice is the music, which comes in with quite a lot of immediacy - a sort of strings concerto symphony thing which melodically references <i>Canon in D</i> (details!), <i>á la</i> <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2014/10/soft-porm-sunday-nataliya-joy-prieto.html" target="_blank">Emmanuelle in Wonderland</a> (2012) without actually being the piece itself. It reflects the renaissance setting quite well, which is good, because the formulaic neck-kissing and very slow disrobing is a little humdrum. There's nothing wrong with it, really... it's just not particularly stimulating. The fact that he's taking <i>off</i> the dress he found her that she's just put <i>on</i> (details!) also makes very little sense!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">As some twat playing the piccolo comes in, we mix to a shot of David Usher kissing a topless Shyra DeLand on her breasts - or, at least, he's meant to be doing that. It's relatively clear that he isn't doing that, but hey, there are breasts, let's look at those. After some fairly extreme boob close-ups and shots which make you realise that Usher needs a shave, his shirt miraculously vanishes and he kisses his way up her legs, which could be sexy, but isn't.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm not quite sure why it isn't. It's just that... neither of them really appear to be into it. At one <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNx0AMff_H1Xdan9l0ecnRPwxshvLBRuzHTVH4Ult0ALFfGCaF_60CfzU_xy7qHHUdEBIT14AYgvYNfs1QF5CLKqLk1kbPobw9gpy8co29We5B7RkTYw8jlv8NFyVdCSzOGdFuDXmGMPhm/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h09m49s093.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNx0AMff_H1Xdan9l0ecnRPwxshvLBRuzHTVH4Ult0ALFfGCaF_60CfzU_xy7qHHUdEBIT14AYgvYNfs1QF5CLKqLk1kbPobw9gpy8co29We5B7RkTYw8jlv8NFyVdCSzOGdFuDXmGMPhm/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h09m49s093.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The eye-roll. If this isn't her trademark, it should be.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
point, DeLand's eyes roll back just like they do in <i>Andromina</i> (details!), but that's basically the only thing I've noticed. Genuinely. Well, that and the fact that the black underwear she has on doesn't appear to be the same underwear as in her first sex scene (details!).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">After an eternity of uninspired kisses and a completely unheralded 'cello/double bass intrusion in 3/4 time, we are thrown directly into full-on penetrative sex, doggie style. It's frightening how quick this transition is, but since that dials up how arousing this is by about 4755505056160%, I'm not really complaining.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhD625S0WWevZxlqwGXZ1TyrCxJjgftlKvyPAVluBAr-2qFn4mtqYTjzAn-59_KY6GruZreKG1SWAhXQMJQuqM8dWwm8-fkgpQ0a781z6CYvVMceUyqqNZXHkeC8vkCjQM1ijlFolgJbN/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h18m38s546.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhD625S0WWevZxlqwGXZ1TyrCxJjgftlKvyPAVluBAr-2qFn4mtqYTjzAn-59_KY6GruZreKG1SWAhXQMJQuqM8dWwm8-fkgpQ0a781z6CYvVMceUyqqNZXHkeC8vkCjQM1ijlFolgJbN/s200/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h18m38s546.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Oh hey, it's my nan's living room's carpet!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Okay, so here's something else I've noticed. Shyra DeLand's sex scenes are all very similar. She has a great body; it makes pretty much the same motions as it moves back and forth, and she also makes the same assortment of facial expressions while doing so. They work, when used correctly, and it's also nice to see the cute little mole between her shoulder blades (details!) and David Usher doing his thrust-from-behind thing which he does in <i>all</i> his other sex scenes (details!) too.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Melissa and Giuseppe don't quite have the same chemistry as, say, Serena and Horatio or Roxie and Jeeter, but at least they're finally putting in a bit of effort here, and working up a bit of a sweat. Due to the fact that this is pretty close to the end of the film and it's one of the final sex scenes, you may as well give us something to orgasm to. This is it. Cheers, studio.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">There's a bit of bouncy riding afterwards, which I'm finding amusing. I'm not sure why. The moment of orgasm is symbolically indicated by a cymbal crash (yes, really!), which is a nice little touch. Also: details!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But that's not why I remembered this scene, oh no. You see, at that point (or at least after Melissa's gotten dressed; Giuseppe doesn't bother) da Vinci comes in to paint her portrait, which he does while Giuseppe hides under her dress giving her oral sex. In fact, she's grinning so much that he has to tell her to smile less. "Stop moaning, Lisa," he advises, without realising what his assistant is doing with the beautiful model he left him in the room with.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNBl7TFE1kTxrDHgaUyN6JQAh97al3XnOVaUIhDRak2ayy0g23IOLk1uAQBCmp2zjQMnoUVcV7p8SXkqdoVzGki0OH4i0HoN_9N57r-c-2CSc1lAyHNW9i6eKgXN7D3ZkwwcJ5jH88IwX/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h35m28s531.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNBl7TFE1kTxrDHgaUyN6JQAh97al3XnOVaUIhDRak2ayy0g23IOLk1uAQBCmp2zjQMnoUVcV7p8SXkqdoVzGki0OH4i0HoN_9N57r-c-2CSc1lAyHNW9i6eKgXN7D3ZkwwcJ5jH88IwX/s320/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h35m28s531.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One of art's greatest mysteries: solved through oral sex.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">You can probably see where this is going, right?</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhpYoKoL3WqeeHcyj4uUBaCMQ0FvwEUGadb03Iurz3DVkTTk71XtO0JWyb4xqeuAwu1SPO8_Zisu72tXVnpv_wqPaH-4TOV3UiWbt0eQtjF5wK8UX6juw5KXhjZbdPLQ1ujkzArAqW7rd/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h44m53s859.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhpYoKoL3WqeeHcyj4uUBaCMQ0FvwEUGadb03Iurz3DVkTTk71XtO0JWyb4xqeuAwu1SPO8_Zisu72tXVnpv_wqPaH-4TOV3UiWbt0eQtjF5wK8UX6juw5KXhjZbdPLQ1ujkzArAqW7rd/s320/vlcsnap-2020-05-03-13h44m53s859.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Authentic Italian dialogue: "What do you think we oughta call it?"</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Of course, they weren't going to let a good piece of art like the Mona Lisa go without making full use of it. A remarkably similar print - exactly the same size, in fact - appears completely by coincidence in <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2013/12/soft-porn-sunday-cc-costigan-brian.html" target="_blank">The Regina Pierce Affair</a> (2001).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And that, my friends, is another detail.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-23270410505121570782020-05-02T17:06:00.001+01:002020-05-02T17:06:48.027+01:00May Masturbation Month: Wank Less, Sleep More<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRf5hLSvnXOHrJ5iS2lcSmdze5X4VAlsnuCod8eheU-St8pQCHjysjGRopzMxa5gn-vjAlf8JNkJ9ZHAqoi2yGQj3YGL4GsabbYTwiVyUMjNmWRb_rN2c8Fso8UMHIF_20uFyjaR2mWssN/s1600/may.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="318" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRf5hLSvnXOHrJ5iS2lcSmdze5X4VAlsnuCod8eheU-St8pQCHjysjGRopzMxa5gn-vjAlf8JNkJ9ZHAqoi2yGQj3YGL4GsabbYTwiVyUMjNmWRb_rN2c8Fso8UMHIF_20uFyjaR2mWssN/s200/may.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I've used this image far too many times.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...don't let them know what you're against or what you're for</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Shake hands with him</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Charm her</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's 1800, ladies! Tell your husbands: vote for Burr!</span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Ahem. Apologies for that - don't know what came over me just then.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And so with May comes another grudging masturbation post. It's not such a bad idea, really: I could talk about masturbation a lot. <a href="http://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2008/01/thoughts.html" target="_blank">Zounds</a>, <a href="http://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2008/02/euphoria.html" target="_blank">so often</a> <a href="http://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2020/04/homecoming.html" target="_blank">I do</a>. Nominally, it's something I do a lot - well, enough to keep an annual tally, anyway (because, yes, I'm That Guy). But here's the rub.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I haven't been doing so.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I mean, that's not an absolute zero - let's be reasonable. Unlike Lightsinthesky, who wrote "NJO" in his homework diary (work it out) and the crossed off days afterwards, or Robinson, who freely spoke of trying to cut down as he had stopped having wet dreams (I haven't had one for over a decade now), this isn't something I'd planned, or happened due to circumstance. It's also not a throwback to my teenaged guilt-fests where I told myself I'd stop.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I haven't been as wanking as much because, ironically, I don't feel like I have the time. As I'm sure you'll be aware, I have plenty of time, and a lot of that time is spent trying to <i>find</i> things to fill that time... and I want to masturbate, really I do, but it <i>still</i> feels like I don't have the time to do so.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Explain? I'll try.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm not the only one here. While my girlfriend is home (she has been working from home for a few weeks, and furloughed for one so far), I am very grateful for her company - particularly shen she is in her better moods, she is a delight - but it makes me feel less alone (technically, I suppose I am), and I can only really masturbate when I'm alone. Even when there's somebody else in the house, I don't feel like I can do it. I need to be absolutely, completely alone to do so.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I know; it's ridiculous, right? But maybe there's a reason behind it. Despite being a longtime proponent of the practice, I've always felt a little embarrassed about masturbating. I'm well within my right to do so, but anyone actually <i>knowing </i>I'm doing so - or suggesting they know - makes me very uncomfortable. If I'm uncomfortable, I can't masturbate, and since I masturbate to feel comfortable in the first place, that puts me in the most twenty-second of catches.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I didn't use to have any particular problem with masturbating in my bedroom in my parents' old house. That wasn't an issue. My room was my domain, and whether or not I was wanking, it didn't seem to make that much of a difference. I had a lock on my door, it was a big house and I was on the second floor of three (and the lounge was downstairs), and - apart from the moment when I forgot the cat was sleeping on my bed - I was alone. When I switched from laptop to netbook, I even worked out a perfect volume so that I could watch porn with the sound on and not alert my parents, who slept in the next room.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In self-isolation, I feel like I'm being watched. That's not a slight or anyone of anything - it's just a feeling I get. I need to be focused to have a satisfying orgasm - it helps if I'm completely absorbed in what I'm watching or reading or where my imagination is going - and anything else - even a feeling - distracts me. Even if I go into another room, I'm wondering if she's wondering if I'm going to have a cheeky wank.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Yes, it's stupid. I know it's stupid. But whatever my brain tells my body, that doesn't mean it's going to co-operate.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So here's my May. I'm starting it having not had an orgasm for about a week so far. Let's give it time, spend a while trying to re-connect with my feelings, and see where I end up afterwards. And if I feel horny, and secure enough to touch myself... then I'll do that.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">No shame, no guilt, no awkwardness. Just wanking.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's a challenge.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-70578333588368306262020-04-22T16:05:00.002+01:002020-04-22T16:05:34.522+01:00An Exercise in Isolation<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The novel(ette) I'm (sort of [meant to be]) writing is set in a desolate, isolated place. My protagonist, Melissa, is there by chance; her companion, Jamie, quite deliberately. He's been planning this for weeks - Melissa being there is as much of a surprise to him as his appearance is to her.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">One of the words thrown around for what we are going through due to the COVID-19 pandemic is 'isolation'. Governments and societies love buzzwords - they give people something to say. 'Social distancing' is being used now, as is 'self-isolation'. Online, people are calling it 'quarantine', even though that's not quite what it is. What it <i>is</i>, of course, is something for which we were not prepared - how could we be? - and though we are all dealing with this in our own way, we are responding to 'isolation' with various degrees of the same uncertainty.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Personally, I'm not scared to go outside. I'm not <i>meant</i> to, of course, but I am doing the shopping for food, and that's something I'm allowed to do. I wash my hands before I go out and upon return, and come into minimal contact with anyone when doing said shopping. I haven't so much as shaken a hand. Even if I don't have COVID-19, and I've no way of knowing if those also in the shops have it, it's best to avoid contact. That's common sense.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">My girlfriend is a lot more nervous about going outside. She is working from home (as, in a way, am I, but there's a limited amount of things I can do here and now - she is doing the same job as always, just from her desk); she doesn't want to go outside, and is incredibly nervous when I do - as if the world outside is a designated red zone and stepping into it is hubris.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This isn't a wrong opinion. It's a different one. I had a cold developing the other week around about my 35th birthday; for all I know, that may have been COVID-19 and I'm now immune. I'm not going to take that risk.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I had a conversation with her this morning about what it's like being in 'isolation' <i>with</i> someone. We live together, of course, so that doesn't mean that this is unusual. It's unusual for both of us to be here all day - for her not to commute into Central London, and me to walk the half-hour route to work. I usually return before she does, and end up here for a couple of hours on my own (isolated, if you will). I don't mind this. It's nice to spend a while in silence - I'm blocking out the world with headphones when going out to shop - and collect my thoughts. But I'm pleased when she comes back. I love company, and I love her.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Much as I like social interaction, to a point, I've never had a big problem with being alone. I don't like being lonely - loneliness is in fact my biggest fear - but I'm OK on my own. Some of the best times in my life happened when I had nothing to do, or nowhere to go. In university I used to sing, dance and wank. To be fair, that happened throughout my twenties too... and my thirties, so far... but you get the idea. I can fill my time perfectly well with music, video games, a nice pile of books, and my imagination.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But, at the moment, I don't feel like that. I'm stressed, and I'm stressed <i>because</i> I shouldn't be stressed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I don't feel isolated, but I <i>do</i> feel left out. There's a skeleton crew going into work at the moment which doesn't include me (and, to be brutally honest, there's no reason why it <i>should</i>) and, while part of me is going "be rational; stay home, wask your hands, do some laundry and read a book or something", a larger part is just on hold, waiting for the call to come so I can go back and catch up on whatever it is I've been missing. I don't quite know <i>what</i> to expect... just that I'm missing it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I know that I'm lucky, in many ways, to actually have someone I'm at home with. I get to do hugs and kisses and chat, and all sorts of other things that those who live alone may not get to do. My family are, at the very least, all on hand, and while it's touch-and-go as to whether or not my grandparents will kill each other before this pandemic ends, my enterprising (and slightly over-keen) mother is making sure we all stay in contact via video conferencing. I'm even playing Jackbox with my friends at weekends, which is something I'd never so much as considered before.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But I'm still nervous.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">My time alone is mine. Give me a day completely on my own and I'd fill it with reading, writing, music and porn. I'd probably do it quite happily and, hey, if I'm at a loose end at least I have DVDs to watch and a huge pile of books to lose myself in.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But give me <i>weeks</i> in a house where I'm <i>not</i> alone and I feel like I'm losing that. I feel like I'm being watched - by the people at work who can't technically watch, the family I can't visit, the friends I can't meet, and the girlfriend who's nominally at work. The back of my brian tells me that, to feel as I myself am valuable, I need to do something big and meaningful. The art project I worked on last week (completely unrelated to this) was kind of a way to do that... but, at the same time, once that is finished, what else is there to do?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I didn't choose to set my novelette in an isolated place <i>because</i> of the situation we are in now. I chose it because I'm fascinated with remote islands and decided to write something set on one - I'm sure William Golding would agree. I'm constantly in company because of the situation we are in. In many ways, at the moment at least, I'm the least isolated person I know.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And yet I still feel like the one who's missing out... but on <i>what</i>, I have no idea.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-65140823630361527862020-04-18T16:01:00.001+01:002020-04-18T16:01:49.118+01:00Homecoming<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[Written in response to the following tweet thread, and the response I (eventually) gave...]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><samp class="EmbedCode-container"><code class="EmbedCode-code"></code></samp></span></span><br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><div dir="ltr" lang="en"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><code class="EmbedCode-code">I'm curious...what is your relationship with Pornography?</code></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><code class="EmbedCode-code"><br />
</code></span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><code class="EmbedCode-code">I was looking up the subject this morning, to talk about it on a forum, and I couldn't find but a small percentage of articles with little to nothing positive to say about it.</code></span></span></div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><code class="EmbedCode-code">— Sacred Ed-- Stay At Home, But Still Sex Positive! (@SacredEd2018) <a href="https://twitter.com/SacredEd2018/status/1251104230858993665?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">April 17, 2020</a></code></span></span></blockquote><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><code class="EmbedCode-code"> </code> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "Times";">My heart is beating from me</span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "Times";">I am standing all alone</span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "Times";">Please call me only</span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "Times";">If you are coming home</span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">What does pornography mean to me?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Familiar.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Much as there's an inherent joy in being a collector (and I've collected <i>everything</i>, from badges to action figures to POGs...), I've rarely been too interested in discovering new porn. Yes, I do have more than 20 DVD-Rs full of the stuff, plus a box of commercially released DVDs and even a VHS or two - and there's a lot more on the external HD that I really need to get fixed at some point - but that collection stalled a few years ago. I really don't need more porn.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It was a long time ago that I realised what worked for me, and since then things haven't really changed. Time moves on, and with it developments come and go - in terms of technology, society, and sexual awareness - and yet the same porn endures, at least in my mind - a bastion of low-budget, poker-faced glossy smut that's just as gawky and silly now as it was more than twenty years ago. Something from the sixties - that's <i>vintage</i>. From the seventies - that's <i>groundbreaking</i>. From the eighties - that's <i>classic.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But late-nineties Hollywood-like sci-fi softcore? That's <i>home</i>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's odd to say that, I know. But let's contextualise a little. Teenage ILB was a little green in what his understanding of what 'pornography' (or 'porno') was. He didn't know the difference between softcore and hardcore; he wasn't aware that hardcore magazines and the like would have male/female interaction (assuming instead that such was illegal); he knew, deep down, that what he was watching wasn't real sex, but it turned him on and that was what mattered.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Teenage ILB grew up on a diet of what Adult ILB now watches. I rationalised, more than fifteen years ago now (when I started buying all the porn I had kept trying to avoid), that if I was going to be horny, I may as well have been comfortably horny, and that meant being horny to something I was comfortable <i>with</i>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Today I watched a film: <i>Veronica 2030</i>. Something so incredibly 1998 it almost hurts: a vision of a future that is closer now than this film is (ten years versus twenty-two...!): a barren world ravaged by political division, where sex has become uninteresting and the population is dying because of lack of sexual contact. It's the same story as a million others, of course - zounds, it's been told in soft porn before, too - but then, this is porn, does it really need <i>too</i> much of a backstory?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Despite never having seen <i>Veronica 2030</i> before, I am familiar with it, or at the very least, I'm familiar with its sex scenes. It's got one of <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2018/08/soft-porn-sunday-julia-ann-nikki-fritz.html" target="_blank">my very favourite lesbian scenes in it</a> (which is impressive in itself, since I don't like lesbian scenes very much!) and a number of other scenes - mostly straight, although there's a little more lesbianity in there (and a couple of "fetish strip club" scenes: don't ask, it's not as interesting as it sounds) - with which I'm familiar. I've seen them. I may even own them. But I've never seen the whole movie before, and today I rectified that.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">What I didn't factor in was the fact that the opening credits would play over both a montage of nudity from the characters, <i>and</i> be accompanied by a music track that serves as the theme tune for the film itself... something that's melodically referenced later on, accompanying all the sex.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Hearing the music, seeing the familiar actor names, and even seeing the studio's logo come up were all like sinking into a bath of warm chocolate. It's not good for me, but it feels warm and cosy and safe. I barely even felt a little aroused throughout the entire thing (I was actually watching it to get a bit of context for the scenes I know and love - as you'll know, <i>that's</i> what's important to me!), but still, I felt good throughout every second.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So, essentially, that's what porn means to me. When nothing else is there, porn I know and like is home.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-32294916211749915122020-04-11T16:48:00.003+01:002020-04-11T16:48:38.854+01:00Warm Tension<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's the middle of the afternoon on Good Friday and I've Completely Given Up™ - I'm lying prone on a soft surface. The sun which I'm not supposed to go out and enjoy (not that I did anyway) is streaming through the window, slowly baking me. Things are feeling hazy. Slow. I'm not napping, not exactly - just resting. I can't <i>do</i> anything else. Heck, I can't do <i>anything</i>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">A piece of music comes into my head. I'm not sure in which bit of my brain it's been hiding, but from there it comes. Gently, like a whisper on a breeze - not loud and boisterous (that sort of thing's more reserved for mental recollections of <i>Radetzky March</i>, <i>et al.</i>), but lilting; maybe even a little fuzzy, like an untuned radio.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Where has it come from? What is it?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>Throb.</i> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Oh, hello there, arousal. Where have you been?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It comes to my attention at this point that I'm lying on my front. If I'm going to be aroused at anything at all, that doesn't help. I'm going to get harder and if I get any harder I'm going to have to deal with my UNUSUALLY LARGE PENIS pressed undernath my whole body weight. And that may hurt. I mean, it's happened before. And it hurts every time.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The music comes back, maybe a little more insistent this time. I'm still not sure where it's from. But this time I have a name - <i>Laura. Laura Nielson</i>. I don't know anyone called Laura Nielson. I'm too tired to think, but a quick scan of my mental Rolodex yields nothing. <i>Nielson...?</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>Throb.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Okay, there's nothing for it, I'm going to need to turn over. I strain a little before my body reminds me that that's far too much effort. I stay there on my front. At least it can't get any harder at this point, and I console myself with this fact. There's nothing else than can happen.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>Oceanographer</i>, whispers the music in my head. <i>She's an oceanographer</i>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Why, yes she is. She <i>is</i> an oceanographer. She's lost her ring, and if Paul has picked it up, he can give it to her. And then she'll reward him by...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>Throb.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I thought I couldn't get any harder, but then that's dangerously tempting fate.<i> </i>This... isn't... helping.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>Throb.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Thanks for the picture in my head, brain.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>Throb.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And now it's starting to hurt. I need to turn over, at least. I can do that. Strain. Roll over. Come on, you can do this - yes, yes you can - come on... over! It'll just hurt for a second and... and... and...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">and...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So I stay on my front. Hot. Hard. Tense. Split in two, almost. Frustrated, content... </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...and very, <i>very</i> tired. </span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-50554349213901014262020-04-08T12:30:00.001+01:002020-04-08T12:30:03.827+01:00Da ba dee, da ba dai<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">At some point in year 11, Lightsinthesky declared that he may (or may not) have a chance of getting a date with a girl in our year I'll call Blue. I knew Blue relatively well - we were in a lot of the same classes - and, polite though she was, I didn't see any indication of her being in any way attracted to Lightsinthesky - or anyone, as far as I was aware. Not my place to pry, one supposes.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I probably don't need to tell you, if you've been reading my blog, that this didn't happen - although he was certainly persistent. This sort of thing happened a lot, and it wasn't new to any of us. Nobody thought to ask Blue, of course, and although I mentioned it in the paper journal I used to keep that night, nothing else was said about it. He just sort of moved on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">At around the same time, I decided that I fancied Blue as well. I didn't, really - I was still hung up on the girl-I-used-to-have-a-crush-on at the time, but since that wasn't going anywhere and wasn't going to go anywhere, I was trying to find solace in becoming interested in other people. It was Lightsinthesky's sudden and unexpected switch-on to Blue that alerted me to her presence.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">As a person, I liked Blue - she was pretty much up for doing anything you asked, whether it was taking part in one of my dramatic history presentations (they were always done as playscripts) or scribing an entire English essay done as a group. She seemed almost disengaged, alarmingly so when one considers what a difficult time year 11 is - she said yes to everything, did the task with enough resolve to finish it, and then went back into hold until something else happened. I considered her a friend, although that may have been stretching it a bit.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The few conversations I had with Blue involved music. Like me, she was a violinist; like me, she also had an affinity for rock, including '70s punk which I liked, but most people seemed to ignore. She was left-handed and we discussed ambidextrous violin techniques - something I've never done with anyone else - and whether or not she could play left-handed guitar too (although she played it right-handed despite being a leftie, like Paul McCartney).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So here's the rub. I started acting out, in my head, what it would be like if I'd actually asked her out and she'd said yes. Of course, I wasn't going to, but it helped to have a contingency plan. I'd tell my dad using a pun - because I always do puns - and for a date I'd take her to see a BBC radio comedy recording, because they are funny, lengthy, and crucially, <i>free</i> - and, because she was also going on to the sixth form, we would have at least two years to see where the relationship went.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This lasted for about a month before I shook myself out of it. It wasn't going to happen, because I didn't even fancy her; I just thought I might because Lightsinthesky thought he might, and anyway, I didn't ask people out as a rule - if anything happened, it was just <i>going</i> to happen, like in Shakespeare comedies or a <i>Point Romance</i> title. (Of course, eventually, it kind of did!) But this wasn't really an option. I'd appreciate her as a classmate and occasional friend, but not somebody I'd ask for a dance at the end-of-year boat party.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The following year, I got a crush on her.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-6872952468986248972020-04-01T13:28:00.004+01:002020-04-01T13:28:59.146+01:00Birds vs. Bees<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It was the middle of spring and I was walking with a couple of school friends around the shops next to the station. We'd been walking for a while - from the school, along the dual carriageway, past Lightsinthesky's house and were heading towards town. I didn't often see my friends from school outside of school, and this was pleasant.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">My token black friend was rhapsodising about his new girlfriend. I say 'girlfriend' advisedly; she was a friend to all of us, but he had been fancying her for a very, very, <i>very</i> long time. From what I hear, he finally asked her out after her birthday gathering (at Pizza Hut) - my Manics fan friend kept up a steady stream of encouragement in his left ear, while the ever-subtle Lightsinthesky was on his right, repeating "ask her out, ask her out, ask her out..." like a stuck record. He eventually did it by text, and she responded by text, in the affirmative.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This was a relief.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Lightsinthesky was also pleased. He'd managed to extriate himself from his toxic relationship with his previous girlfriend (I said from day one that it wouldn't go well...) and was now dating someone younger, who was pretty and clever and a better fit for him - although, as I seem to remember, that relationship didn't last very long either. He moved on a fair few times in the successive year, although I never quite figured out <i>how</i>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Anyway.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The idea was floated as to doing a multiple date, although only two of us were attached and my token black friend's relationship was nascent; both of them had someone to name with whom they were pleased. From what I could tell folllowing clandestine conversations with their girlfriends, they were also pleased - Lightsinthesky's girlfriend had been pushing hard for this to happen, whereas my friend who was now dating my token black friend had been wanting him for months, so perhaps Lightsinthesky's stuck record impression was warranted after all.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">They could go together - Lightsinthesky could go with his new girlfriend; Music Man and <i>his</i> girlfriend; Floof and Bri; Dewey and Bob; me and... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">They got stuck when it came to me. I didn't have anyone. This wasn't a big surprise. They settled on suggesting the Danish girl I'd been talking to with whom I had an almost relationship. She was, however, <i>in</i> Denmark, which presented a problem. (Years later, I went through her town while heading towards Århus. It's a magical place.) I agreed, although it was clear from the get-go that a multiple date was<i> not</i>, categorically, on the cards. (Laer that day, I'd do a stick person cartoon of said date. It involved monsters.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Just as we were on the verge of parting ways, my token black friend had a moment approaching pure ecstasy upon receiving a text that started with "hi babez". I took that as my cue to leave.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I walked home slowly, the warm Spring air surrounding me like a hesitant hug. As I got back onto my street, I paused for a while before heading up towards my house. I hadn't actually asked where Lightsinthesky and my token black friend were going to go after our casual cornerside chat.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'd never felt so alone.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-41894628738581812152020-03-29T16:16:00.000+01:002020-03-29T16:16:07.885+01:00Quoft Quorn<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Gentle Reader, help me solve a conundrum.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Amazon Prime (the streaming service, not the suspiciously fast delivery) has, for what it's worth, a fair amount of soft porn. It's hidden inside sections like horror and comedy, but it <i>is </i>there - from <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2012/12/emmanuwhat.html" target="_blank">Emmanuelle</a> to <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2017/11/soft-porn-sunday-erika-jordan-darcie.html" target="_blank">Escape from Pleasure Planet</a>, it is there.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">You need a subscription to <a href="https://www.fullmoondirect.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Full Moon</a> to watch it, but nevertheless.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">One of the things that unites practically all the softcore featured on Amazon Prime is the subcategory "LGBTQ+ Interest". I initially viewed this with a fair amount of amusement, but then I started to wonder... is this offensive? Is it marketing? And, perhaps most importantly... is this <i>accurate</i>?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">For</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Let's get the first and most obvious thing out of the way first. There's a huge amount of lesbian sex in softcore. It's not particularly realistic (but then, it doesn't need to be), but offhand I can't think of any more than about three or four films that don't contain at least one lesbian sex scene. There are some softcore flicks (<i>Virgin Hunters 3</i>, and yes, that's a real title, leap to mind) which <i>only</i> contain lesbian scenes.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Since I have yet to see a boy/boy softcore scene, and probably never will, we're just going to have to accept that every woman is bisexual, every man is straight as a beanpole, and that people of other genders don't exist (I can think of <i>one </i>trans character, in <i>one </i>episode of <i>Compromising Situations</i>, and even then she's put in as a bit of a joke, and she gets to have straight sex at the end, so...). It's very unfair, but then this is a sort of distinction I've seen in hardcore too (barring the sort of queer alt-porn from indie producers, of course).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">From a marketing standpoint, this kind of makes commercial sense. Flog a softcore flick and you've most likely got the L and B covered, too. Possibly even the Q since that's an umbrella term. You'll never have the G covered (if G stands for Gay Cis Male), or even the T, or any other letters covered by the plus, such as A, I or U (although Bridgette Hudson's character in <i>Emmanuelle Through Time</i> may be asexual - but that's never explicitly said) - but it helps, at least, to have it placed in more than one category. There's more visibility there, and although it seems slightly incongruous to have <i>Virtual Encounters 2</i> sandwiched between <i>Brokeback Mountain</i> and <i>Postcards from London</i>, the option's there if you want it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">My first job after university was working weekends at a large bookshop with a fairly sizeable LGBTQ+ section (labelled "Gay Interest", because of course it was), and it didn't escape my notice that that's where we shelved <i>Best Lesbian Erotica</i> (rather than in <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2015/03/ewbd-or-unexpected-virtue-of-passage-of.html" target="_blank">the erotica section in the back corner</a>). Again, this was a marketing decision - the cute lesbian who managed the section told me so - since customers were more likely to hang around the gay shelves as they would the erotica ones, and then the only person who would know what they were buying would be the bookseller, who they'd likely never see again.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I suppose the same sort of idea floats around softcore, which is essentially the erotica section.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Against</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Me being me, I'm amazed at the fact that soft porn doesn't have its own section. Amazon.co.uk used to have a 'video erotica' section (perhaps it still does; I haven't looked!) where you could buy VHSs for a cosy night in, but it doesn't seem to have afforded the same luxury to its streaming service. Looking for it myself necessitated the wrangling of the search function, which means that you'd need to know the exact title or actor to find something you might like. There isn't even a category or anything.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This works the other way around, as well. If you're interested in LGBTQ+, you may like softcore. If you're interested in softcore, you may like LGBTQ+. It's a very hokey and rather cynical idea, but somebody may have thought about that, even if it isn't quite right.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">As I said above, however, there isn't really a lot of LGBTQ+ in soft porn, lesbian sex and bisexual women notwithstanding. It's very one-sided, and while I'm aware this is probably a point of viewer appeasement rather than deliberate erasure, I'm 99% sure that Director X didn't stand behind the camera and think, "hey, these two naked girls will really pull in the lesbian crowd".</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">While I've always said that one shouldn't make such a distinction anyway and crowd <i>everything</i> into an LGBTQ+ section because it's a little gay (similarly, putting everything with a black character into a "black interest" section... something else we did in the bookshop, to my confusion), if you are looking for LGBTQ+ stuff, you may not be looking for soft porn. I'm not going to assume you <i>aren't</i>, of course, but that's not what you've searched for...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...but, of course, there isn't a category to browse through, so that makes it all moot.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It doesn't matter</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This is the easiest thing to say, because hell, at least this important and popular genre gets a look-in, rather than its noticeable absence from, say, Netflix.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But, overall, I'm not sure if it actually warrants the LGBTQ+ tag, since <i>DodgeBall</i> has a bisexual character in it and doesn't carry it. That's one example, there are many more, of course... and the fact that there <i>are</i> so many more <i>is</i> a problem. Splitting softcore up into different genres (which <i>is</i> a good thing, as it also counts as sci-fi, fantasy, comedy, drama, <i>et al.</i>!) and uniting them under one banner is the right thing to do.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But it's not the right banner to do so. You need a softcore porn category.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Why is that so hard?</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-19122408507883367162020-03-24T16:51:00.002+00:002020-03-24T16:51:27.418+00:00Settle<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And so it goes.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I didn't go back to work after last Wednesday. My colleague-who-is-also-a-friend tells me that, although she was there, there were multitudes of staff who weren't. Also reduced clientelle, but that's also to be expected.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I feel fine now, of course. I've even floated the idea of going back to work if it is at all open (and, as far as I'm aware, it is, although whether or not it remains so is TBC), but because I had Some Symptoms, and J is unwell herself also presenting with symptoms, this flat is pretty much in lockdown. I used my last trip into town to buy various assortments of cake and flirt the man in GAME into selling me a Nintendo Switch despite his insistence they didn't have any...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">[*ruffles hair* Still got it.]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...and I haven't been out since. Once, maybe, to the tiny shop around the corner. I'm not sure that counts.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm in the peculiar and precarious position of not being able to work from home. There are a few smaller things I can do - clerical stuff, online training, <i>et al.</i>, but it's not really working; it's not the job I was hired to do. I'm fortunate enough to be paid for this (at full pay, since the company has been budgeting for this), as technically I'm <i>at</i> work and could be called in at the drop of any number of hats (but I won't be), but I <i>am </i>feeling the strain of <i>not</i> being at work, even if getting up at 10am is nice to be able to do.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The cliché goes that working from home involves a small amount of work, numerous cups of tea, and large amounts of masturbation, often with toys involved if one happens to be a sex blogger (because, as we all know, nobody <i>else </i>uses toys). We now have Amazon Prime TV (because J clicked a button she shouldn't have and is now addicted to <i>Bob's Burgers</i>) which has quite a lot of softcore on it (hidden in the horror section, amsusingly).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And, as I said in my previous post, I sat in the warmth writing about masturbation with a cup of tea, and managed not only to stay gleeful, but turn myself on a little as well.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But, sexually, I'm feeling dull. Doing nothing is exhausting, and though healthy, I am tired. I can talk about sex all I like, but as things go at the moment, I'm looking forward more to lying down on the sofa than I am sitting up with my cock in my hand. When I have done so in the past couple of weeks, it's led to some fairly spectacular orgasms which remind me why I like it so much, but unless I want to make an effort, it's not something I've really been doing...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...and I shouldn't <i>have</i> to make an effort. It's fun and it's free and really, truly shouldn't be a chore.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Of course, this isn't the first time it's happened. It's a phase that will pass, as it was when I started taking SSRIs in university, or got dumped by The Oxford Seamstress, or between the eleventh and eighteenth of March last year. (I repeated the performance of not coming on my birthday this year, but then, I was busy.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Time to re-evaluate. I'm not feeling myself so I'm not feeling myself. It has happened before, and it passed, and it will happen again, and pass. I can sit here with large cups of tea, write my book and do <i>laissez-faire</i> bits and bobs for work. Zounds, I can even play <i>Super Mario Odyssey</i>, <i>Luigi's Mansion 3</i> and <i>Untitled Goose Game</i> now. I've got <i>New Super Mario Bros. U</i> coming too, because I am a massive whore.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I've even got the time to READ SOME BOOKS!!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So, yes. Maybe this sucks. And maybe the government(s) could have handled it better. But, lucky though I will admit to being, COVID-19 hasn't hit me too hard. Whether or not I get it, or may have already (I was bad on Thursday), I'm weathering out the self-isolation in my own way.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It isn't fun. But I'll settle for it.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-87661788624599277162020-03-19T16:06:00.001+00:002020-03-19T16:06:07.902+00:00Further along the line...<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Okay, well, I've had a hell of a time since I last updated. It hasn't <i>all </i>been hell, despite the Hieronymus Bosch painting the media is making it out to be, however. What seems like aeons after everyone else, I'm finally on self-isolation (or heading that way, anyway; I have some symptoms but not too sure if they're something completely unconnected to COVID-19), which is a novelty. It's not a fun one, really, but still... a novelty, nevertheless.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Eroticain't</span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Over the weekend, I took the plunge and attended what remained of Eroticon 2020, that being a little collection of socials in and around the hotel where delegates usually stay. Socialising is my favourite part of 'con, and while I was still upset at the whole shebang being cancelled, at least I got to see <i>some </i>people - my good friend <a href="http://www.sexwithrose.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Rose</a>, who I've missed, was there with her infirm boyfriend - as was <a href="http://www.rebelsnotes.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Marie Rebelle</a>, who was also absent from 'con in recent years.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This makes me the only delegate who's been present for every 'con since its inception in 2012. Check me out, being Mister Predictable over here.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Also present were (and excuse me missing anyone out!) Jayne Renault (also someone I've missed), Zak Jane Keir, Exhibit A, The Other Livvy, Luke & Jack, The Grand Master T, Julie (MPB) - with whom I had a long chat on the Friday night after discovering shared interests - Hannah (the confessional one), and a couple of new people. <a href="http://www.carolynaluna.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Carolyna Luna</a> certainly made an impression on me, and I'll be checking <i>her </i>out for sure!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I hear that on Saturday a mini-version of 'con, complete with cut-down versions of talks, was held at a pub in the vicinity. I wasn't actually told this was happening. Sadface.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Eroticis!</span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I was too lazy to join in the confusingly vague #Eroticonline thingy that happened in lieu of an actual event, but that doesn't actually mean I didn't do anything over the weekend.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Those of you who may be keeping tabs on what I'm doing may have noticed confusingly vague mentions of an erotic novelette I'm writing based on Rockall (complete with a Twitter poll which revealed that nobody voted who knew what Rockall is - do these people even <i>listen </i>to the shipping forecast?). In the time afforded by not going to 'con I managed to write two chapters. I even got some helpful advice from Jayne about what to do in the unlikely event that I manage to finish it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I got my solace by sitting in my computer chair in complete silence, in a heated room, with a good cup of tea and pair of biscuits, writing a female masturbation scene on a weekend evening. Not a bad way to do it, I suppose.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Not Eroticon</span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It was my birthday on Tuesday, and although it was a very miserable way to do so (and I had to cancel my party due to viral shenanigans), you don't continue to struggle through your thirties every day. Unless you count every day as being in your thirties as struggling through your... yes, bad choice of words, I know.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Luck, and a fair amount of serendipity, afforded me getting pretty much all my presents on the same day (barring two, which I got today). With the spoils, I did the Right Thing... and bought a Nintendo Switch.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>ILB:</b> I'm going to get a Switch! Have you got a Switch?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Rose: </b>Of course I have! We should be friends!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>ILB: </b>We're already friends!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Rose: </b>Friends on the Switch, I mean!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Today, while waiting for it to arrive (which may take a while), I bought both the Mario game and the <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2013/03/weegee.html" target="_blank">Luigi</a> game. Check me out, being Mister Predictable over here.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So now I have more things to wait for. At least I get a free Mario keychain for all my <strike>money</strike> trouble.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm consoling myself with the fact that this week could have gone worse. I'm ill, but able to walk and talk and wash my hands when I remember to; everyone else at work is going on leave so it isn't just me; I had a civil conversation with the colleague I thought I upset before leaving (and it turns out I didn't upset her after all...); I got a big box of chocolates and a bag of sherbet lemons for my birthday (diet's going well, then); for the first time in my life, I've been able to buy a home console!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Would you believe it? My NES, SNES, N64 and GameCube were all presents... and I bought my Wii pre-owned!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Now what do I do?</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-56973494523335625412020-03-12T22:00:00.001+00:002020-03-12T22:00:13.191+00:00One More Night<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I made a mistake at work earlier this week which, for whatever reason, my boss termed "a massive cock-up".</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">People (who don't work with me) have since told me repeatedly that it wasn't my fault - and it wasn't; I was only involved for the second half, and a total lack of communication precipitated <i>that </i>in turn; I acted in a professional way and seemed to have defused a situation which could have turned worse - but their words are falling on highly biased ears.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I know I didn't do anything wrong. The little voice in the back of my head is telling me otherwise. The fact that I wasn't allowed to do my regular job yesterday (although I was actually covering someone else's job because they had called in sick and was nothing to do with me) has only served to compound that. My colleague, who has been possibly the most affected by what I did (and is over twelve years younger than me, which makes me uncomfortable), didn't give me her usual trill of "Hi, ILB!" today, and barely acknowledged me in the corridor.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Of course, what I want to do is smooth things over with her. But I decided earlier on that I'm scared to even talk to her.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This has had a massive knock-on effect on my confidence for the rest of the week. I'm suddenly convinced of the fact that I'm not doing too well at my job, despite every shred of evidence to the contrary. Every tiny mistake I make, even the correctable ones (paperwork that can be edited; things spilled on the floor that can be picked up; getting to the copy machine to find there's a queue), are making me panic. While my other colleague (nine years younger) tells me she is having the same problems, and my colleague who is also a friend (six years younger) is visibly stressed, I'm managing to walk around with a huge black storm cloud over my head, like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calamity_James" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Calamity James</a> in the earlier years.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Today I bit the bullet and finally went to talk to one of the deputy managers. He was, to put it politely, concerned - both that I was taking things too much to heart and that there were cracks beginning to show in my cool demeanour - but re-assured me, again and again, that I did absolutely the right thing and that it was wise to come and talk to him. He even offered to talk to the others about this, which I politely declined. He advised me to take the afternoon slowly, and then take tomorrow gently.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">On my way out the door, he asked me if I had plans for the weekend. I replied that I did, in fact, have plans: I was going to a writing conference, at which there would be <a href="http://www.girlonthenet.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">people</a> <a href="http://www.coffeeandkink.me/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">I only see</a> <a href="http://www.onqueerstreet.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">once a year</a>, including <a href="http://www.sexwithrose.com/" target="_blank">a close friend</a> who I haven't seen for two. I admitted to being really excited about it, and that it was one of the reasons I was finding it hard to concentrate. He told me that I should just focus on that and consider it my reward for getting through this incredibly difficult week.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I left feeling a little better, stumbled through lunch, and then managed to do relatively well until half an hour before closing time, when the colleague I possibly accidentally hurt came back and I spent the last bit with my heart pounding and stomach clenching. I got through it and left for another room as soon as I was able to.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I sat in an empty room packing my magic satchel to go home and try to de-compress as much as I was able to. Maybe, I told myself, I'd be able to make it through tomorrow <i>without</i> feeling like a total failure, refresh myself spiritually at Eroticon, and then come back next week with a more positive attitude - and hopefully making less mistakes.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The news on my 'phone, which I hadn't looked at since the morning, came through that Eroticon has been cancelled.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I suddenly realised that I am a terrible person, and went home to cry.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-9928782492502000862020-03-08T16:52:00.001+00:002020-03-08T16:52:11.683+00:00...glove?<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So we're alone, finally. Lying on top of the covers, she and I. Or maybe there were never any covers to begin with. That doesn't seem to be particularly important. We're floating, somehow, in a sea of white. She's asleep... and, when it comes down to it, so am I. Maybe I am - maybe I'm not. That doesn't seem to be particularly important either.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I don't know if I'm horny or not. But it's important to me that she is. Or, at least, she will be when she wakes up. Obviously I can't do anything while she's asleep, because she can't give consent. I need to do something, though.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">How to describe what I'm doing next is proving to be a challenge. It's something between "massaging her thigh" and "squeezing", maybe with a bit of "stroking" involved. My hand is involved, at least, as well as her thigh. For whatever reason, it's working... or, at least, it probably is, even though I don't know exactly what I'm intending to do. She's making all the right noises, though; snuffling disturbed sighs tell me that I'm doing the right thing.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I wonder, briefly, if I can stop, and then find that she won't let me. I can't remove my hand, even though there's nothing holding it there. She's more excited than before now, although still not awake, and she's rubbing herself against my hand, clenching her legs together with a hand (one of hers) between them like something I've seen in <i>Big Mouth</i>. The only thing I can think of doing - the only route forwards, in fact - is to squeeze a little firmer.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">My fingers only meet the soft fabric of the sheet (or duvet, depending on whether there was one or not). I'm clutching at it, not her... and maybe I never have been. I'm also nowhere near her - a couple of feet away, whereas we had originally fallen asleep entwined (although we may not have been asleep at all). She's still writhing and moaning. I must be still touching her...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...telepathically?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's the only logical explanation, although where we're going, we don't need logic. </span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-33239991534369396942020-03-01T15:00:00.002+00:002020-03-05T22:02:16.074+00:00ILBRoticon 2020<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">My current situation, when it comes to blogging, is probably best summarised as "not where I want to be". As Eroticon rolls around, it heralds a quarter of the way through the year - I myself am hitting a milestone birthday the week afterwards - and, while<a href="http://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2008/" target="_blank"> in my youthful zest</a> I may have written between thirty and fifty posts by the end of February, I'd have credited myself by averaging more than ten in two months, even in the face of the advancing years.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The irony of having run a session a few years ago about how easy it is to generate content is not lost on me. Hopefully - <i>genuinely</i> hopefully - going to Eroticon this year will at least help me get some of that energy back, so I can whack out more posts this year. I can always do more.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Herewith, then, the <a href="https://eroticon.co/2020/02/28/2020-virtual-meet-and-greet/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Eroticon Meet & Greet</a>, a random assembly of questions for me to answer, therefore allowing me <strike>free content</strike> a chance to share, for those of you who don't know who this prolific sex blogger who comes to every single Eroticon might be, some random piece of information, which you can probably fit together like a jigsaw, using Silly Putty to fill up the holes. Except don't do that. I need my holes to eat and breathe and I've already gotten lost in this analogy.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Fantastic.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Name (and Twitter)</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />Innocent Loverboy - abbreviated to ILB, pronounced "I'll be" /aɪjelbiː/, not "illbuh" /ɪlbə/. I type this sentence every single year and people still get it wrong. I'll also respond to "Innocent", or my real name, which a few of you may know. Or just throw something at me - that works too.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm on Twitter at @<b><a href="http://www.twitter.com/innocentlb" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">innocentlb</a></b>, but I don't use any other social media.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Tell us 3 things you are most looking forward to at Eroticon 2020.</b><br /><br />(i) This is the same every year, but it counts, so: seeing all the people I only ever get to see once a year. What with the lack of other events or meetups or the like, this is the only chance I get to attend somewhere <i>as </i>a sex blogger. This is my annual chance. And meeting new people, that's good too.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">(ii) As above, a chance to hopefully engender some ideas for content. I mean, that's the main concept behind Eroticon, so this year, let's hope it happens.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">(iii) This is a personal one. <a href="http://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2019/03/70-joys-of-eroticon-part-ii.html" target="_blank">Last year's Eroticon</a> was, although enjoyable, made less so by the fact that I didn't want to bother anyone, so I tended to just sit in a corner being quiet, meaning that both the Saturday and Sunday evenings made me feel quite lonely. This year, I want to sit nearer people, and actually get involved in conversations without butting in (which is difficult, I know). This is a community, but it's hard to feel part of a community if it seems people aren't missing your presence. So I'm looking forward to getting some confidence back... even if I have to <i>force</i> myself to do so.</span></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Sadly with a change of venue this year for the Friday night meet and greet we won’t be compiling a playlist, but I know that everyone enjoys that bit, so… what is a song that always makes you want to dance?</span></span></b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />Really? Has the venue finally had enough of us, then?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br />This has actually always been my least favourite question, because I have a very eclectic taste in music and could probably put together an entire one by myself which I'd always be afraid nobody else would like. The fictional band that I daydream about being in plays an incredibly diverse array of covers, but since that's never going to happen, I'll have to rely upon my imagination.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I dance to a lot of things, although due to general health and weight issues I don't dance as much as I used to (again, it's a part of my lost youth!). One song I will always dance to, however, is <i>Place Your Hands</i> by Reef. Why? Because it makes you <i>want</i> to dance. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>What is the best book you have read in the last 12 months?</b><br /><br />Oh, boy. This is also a very difficult question due to my eclectic taste in literature. I bought <a href="http://www.girlonthenet.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">GOTN</a>'s first book at last year's Eroticon and liked it a lot, so maybe that counts. I've also enjoyed <i>Wolf B</i>r<i>other</i> and <i>Convenience Store Woman</i>, for different reasons. I'm also currently reading <i>The Prison of the Angels</i>, the third book in the series by Janine Ashbless, which I'm quite liking, if not as much as I liked the first two. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>As you sit writing this post what are three things you are grateful for?</b><br /><br />1. My flat. It's by far the best thing that's happened to me in the past few years. It was, for a long time, the thing I wanted the most, while being shunted between rooms in share houses for years. This is somewhere I can call home, and it's big enough to have people over, as well... even if I haven't really done that yet...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">2. My job. Again, this probably won't be interesting to you at all, but I've changed jobs since last year's 'con, and that was both a sensible change and one that I was incredibly, <i>incredibly</i> lucky to be able to effect. The other day I came home and cried because I managed to make someone smile at work. That never used to happen.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">3. Video games. I've always, <i>always</i> been grateful for video games, ever since I first played the ZX Spectrum. Like books, or dreams, games are little universes you can escape into, and they are still as big a part of my life as they have ever been.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>What is your mobile's wallpaper or home screen image?</b><br /><br />This is assuming that everyone owns a smartphone, heh. I actually got a new 'phone back in August, just before starting my new job. The background is Fluttershy, who's my favourite little pony. Originally, I had intended it to be Luigi, but I couldn't find a picture of him that seemed to fit well with the 'phone's aesthetic. Fluttershy seemed to fit incredibly well.</span></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">If someone gave you £5,000 today, which you were not allowed to save but had to spend within 24 hours what would you do with it?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Interesting question, and this reminds me that I need to write a birthday list. I would get the following things:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I. A Nintendo Switch. Everyone else appears to have one of these, and it's something I feel like I'm sorely missing out on. I love my 3DS, but I need some new tech, specifically because I own all the other Nintendo consoles and want to play <i>Super Mario Odyssey</i>, <i>Luigi's Mansion 3</i>, and, of course, <i>Untitled Goose Game</i>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">II. An exercise bike. I need to exercise, and can't seem to get it together to regularly go to a gym. After last year's accident, I'm also very wary about jogging on pavements around here. If I can get a bike, I can exercise <i>while</i> playing the Switch. Marvellous!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">III. A self-hosted blog. This is something I would like, but don't need. I'm not overly in want of any more functionality, but should probably set one up at some point. I'd have the money to pay for hosting space and a domain. (Of course, this was something I was going to do last year, but didn't get around to it...)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">IV. A new PC. I've had this one for about 4,951,573 years and, while I have great affection for it, I do need a new one which, y'know, runs. My plan is to, at some point, get a new PC, and transfer all the files in this one's My Documents over there, since most of the stuff I use is in that folder.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Interesting addendum to the preceding question: with the recent death of a family friend, at some point over the coming month or so I'll be inheriting £1,000. With that amount I can probably get the Switch, the bike and the blog... but am I going to, really? Let's find out!</span></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Complete the sentence: I need...</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...much more confidence, all the brain power at my disposal, and a fair deal of luck, to make the most out of this year's Eroticon.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Let's make it happen. </span></span><b><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"> </span></span></b>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-62489567893574848242020-02-29T19:00:00.002+00:002020-02-29T19:00:55.387+00:00I've seen you around...<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>If you're not in a relationship</i>, I told myself...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Or even if you are," I interjected, "depending on the type of relationship you're in..."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...<i>Quite. It should be easier to look for sex. To be able to just </i>ask.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">That doesn't make any sense, said Logical ILB. It's not courteous to go up to someone and just <i>ask</i> them to have sex with you. That's creepy. Assault, actually. Humanity came up with the concept of flirting, as a sort of courtship exercise similar to birds displaying or frogs croaking or whatever. Maybe the analogy got lost there, but that's the basic idea.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But then again, it happens, replied Whimsical ILB. I've seen it happen, and even without an intoxicating substance being involved. People like to have sex; at least, many people do. I've watched it happen - friends having sex with friends, even if they're not romantically attached. Maybe there's no physical attraction at all and they would just like to have sex.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">That doesn't happen a lot, though, does it? said Logical ILB.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">No, admitted Whimsical ILB. Which is why I floated the idea of why it shouldn't be a problem to 'just ask'... although, yes, strangers on the street not the best idea. Maybe just ask someone you know, like a friend or an acquaintance...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...Or a colleague? put in Irrelevant ILB.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...Or a colleague. Although I work with some incredibly beautiful people, they are all in relationships, and so am I, so that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the more casual side of things...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...Which isn't your jam, is it? pointed out Logical ILB.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It isn't, put in Nostalgic ILB. But it <i>might</i> have been if it were <i>easier</i>. I'm not single now, and I haven't been in recent years, apart from six months or so in 2011 and one month in 2012. But I was, for a very long time. Between 2003 and 2008 absolutely nothing happened, and that included three years at university <i>and</i> a couple of years out of it, and during those years I spent a lot of time philosophically agonising about the ethical considerations of looking for, asking for, and getting to have, sex... despite people living in the room next to me in student hall, or the share houses, seeming to have very little problem with it!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">That's not quite true, said Logical ILB. You had sex with Louise in 2004, and then Alicia in 2007, and then Lilly in 2008.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Yes, said Nostalgic ILB, but I flirted with them first. The internet made it easier. I didn't just ask them to have sex with me. Maybe if hookup apps had existed back then...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I think, pointed out Logical ILB, that you're getting caught up in this. You're massively influenced by twelve years as a sex blogger, plus years of going to Woodcraft events. You've seen all manner of relationships come and go, and some instances where there <i>isn't</i> a relationship, there's <i>just</i> people having sex, and...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But that's what I've been <i>saying</i>! cried Whimsical ILB. I know it happens because I've seen it happen, but it just...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...HASN'T EVER HAPPENED TO <i>ME</i>! all the ILBs said at once.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"So why isn't it easier?" I asked aloud.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"And why should it be?" said a very small voice inside my head. "Nobody said it ever would." </span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-4250095043758572742020-02-23T16:03:00.000+00:002020-02-23T16:03:46.412+00:00Soft Porn Sunday: Gabbriella Gillitlie & Glenn Ratcliffe<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Gillitlie", eh? That's going to cause me some problems. it tool me long enough to learn how to pronounce "Jason Schnuit" - Gabbriella's name may take me Gillions of years. Still, this woman is clearly talented. She's appeared in a fair few things, and was the writer and producer (and star) of her own short film <i>Because I'm Single...</i> (2002), so it's nice to see her branching out.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Anyway, let's look at one of ther Ginitial appearances, in <i>Compromising Situations</i>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Appearance: </b><i>Compromising Situations</i>, Series 3: "Centerfold" (1996)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><b>Characters: </b>Joe & Leslie</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I've looked at this episode (and this male character) <a href="http://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2019/10/soft-porn-sunday-andrea-silver-glenn.html" target="_blank">before</a>, on request from friendly reader S.A., who requested that I look at the other sex scenes therein. Months later, I've gotten around to do the second one. Great use of your time there, ILB.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Let's have a quick recap of the plot. Joe (Ratcliffe)'s task is to choose between three impossibly beautiful models for a "Centerfold of the Year" competition (and, yes, it still hurts to use the American spelling). While doing so, he uses the opportunity to sleep with all three of them. There isn't much more to the plot - it's just a bunch of Gillicit sex in various locations.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4R0Sh2Zss1hCLaSpSlgqabTJg2Lb1TPoFfNp6uc5XXzZYoUgrdD13tg16LunznTS0hzLxBH7XBb1voXu9eaOCjQh_eKCYU4bLltr0JCKNIVvtJMkIYoVPZVcR-5yYRxxULoy_GREGKb3/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h18m10s015.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4R0Sh2Zss1hCLaSpSlgqabTJg2Lb1TPoFfNp6uc5XXzZYoUgrdD13tg16LunznTS0hzLxBH7XBb1voXu9eaOCjQh_eKCYU4bLltr0JCKNIVvtJMkIYoVPZVcR-5yYRxxULoy_GREGKb3/s200/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h18m10s015.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">This is how to flirt. With teeth.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The sex between Joe and Leslie happens in a car and, for what it's worth, it's not a bad set-up. In fact, from the beginning it's quite clear that Leslie is taking the lead - leaning up against Joe with a Gilleaming smile and plenty of lust in her eyes. Following some mild-to-moderate flirting culminating in a "well, in that case..." from Joe, they get down to it. It doesn't take too long, but then again, this is a short sex scene. No point wasting time.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The music cuts in at 00:15, and Leslie's head immediately dips to give Joe one of those sort porn blowjobs that doesn't show anything except hair. I'm not entirely sure if Joe is <i>meant</i> to not be wearing anything on his bottom half before she sharts, but that barely seems to matter, as this is a quick scene and cuts between things with fairly increasing rapidity. Gillossing over Leslie's hair and some valiant (and hilarious) attempts at pleasure faces from Ratcliffe, we even get a shot of his knee hitting the Gignition, which turns on the windscreen wipers.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Which make a better noise than the music, which is thus far uninspiring.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNm1wUcqFvy7xGHVzbXtUT7Xn7j_SpUfvUE-zKKwxVENd4Se8sAE2OyKDSJOCpR0pxDYoI6ILS2DINabF9VwsnAbAuue5XF01HpQgKhJdmA2jZhmvsVbE4F7hTBsOW3KMaAdUJ8I8DUMKP/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h25m25s890.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="720" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNm1wUcqFvy7xGHVzbXtUT7Xn7j_SpUfvUE-zKKwxVENd4Se8sAE2OyKDSJOCpR0pxDYoI6ILS2DINabF9VwsnAbAuue5XF01HpQgKhJdmA2jZhmvsVbE4F7hTBsOW3KMaAdUJ8I8DUMKP/s320/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h25m25s890.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's only at this point that I noticed Gabbriella has wondrous lips.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It gets slightly better, both musically and visually, when there's a fairly close-up shot of Joe and Leslie making out, accompanied by some twat on the Gillockenspiel adding twinkly bits. This is, to be fair, relatively hot, although it's aided a lot by Gillitlie, who is herself very attractive. I don't think too much of Ratcliffe, to be honest, but she's giving all the right facial expressions - something she carries through to the next shot, after we mix quickly to Joe giving <i>her</i> oral sex.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">A quick note on softcore oral sex. It's very difficult to pull off if you're not <i>genuinely </i>pulling someone <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJMbblKllUXOFUt7_sVGOR7-hi-MwUdxY5-v5sheDb9NMbauXG-BHu74ANN701CyVCSDZUZ5Ds9lHoCaVWL7hqsqZPs6clgTwti4SQrRHeDXoq12HcRBk8WauG-ikJzI86V_Qp-8pHaQ7/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h34m23s750.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJMbblKllUXOFUt7_sVGOR7-hi-MwUdxY5-v5sheDb9NMbauXG-BHu74ANN701CyVCSDZUZ5Ds9lHoCaVWL7hqsqZPs6clgTwti4SQrRHeDXoq12HcRBk8WauG-ikJzI86V_Qp-8pHaQ7/s200/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h34m23s750.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Is this an orgasm or is she singing opera?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
off. Success in this field is dependent a lot on the recipient (as the actor - sorry to spoil the fantasy - isn't really doing too much at this point). Joe's <i>The Room</i>-esque facial expressions during the first few seconds of this scene are funny, but confusing. Leslie's here, accompanied by what she's doing with her body (<i>ie.</i> writhing a bit, Girabbing Joe's head and smiling a lot), makes it a lot more believable.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">We even get <i>another</i> shot of oral sex, albeit from a different angle, so I think I know what the director was Gilloing for here.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">At 02:08, several more mixes between faked oral and some incongruous bass guitar later, we cut to Leslie holding onto something unspecified on the roof of the car to stabilise herself (akin to Jenna Jameson in <i>Boat Sex</i>, if you had Girokster at any point during the early '00s), although it's not clear what's going on underneath her (unless it's more oral sex). Gillitlie is doing all she can to keep this scene going at this point, and you get some nice shots of her breasts, so I suppose there is that.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg645m2ZBUV6Vno3jp90XttNtSDgrcLY-vVE7o66AtAmZvct9hNbMLN7P154UTbIHxOPCaYYjJi7FYwJtH0BeKwSZ56aOOOA04laSewL3Kao_laG74FrExz-ZbqT_qqw2LYcETfDrDhwlFc/s1600/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h39m09s515.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg645m2ZBUV6Vno3jp90XttNtSDgrcLY-vVE7o66AtAmZvct9hNbMLN7P154UTbIHxOPCaYYjJi7FYwJtH0BeKwSZ56aOOOA04laSewL3Kao_laG74FrExz-ZbqT_qqw2LYcETfDrDhwlFc/s200/vlcsnap-2020-02-23-15h39m09s515.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I'm not sure whether to wank to this or call the police!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">There follows a confusing few seconds where I'm assuming she's meant to be riding him, although it's filmed in a car so you can't really see much apart from her. She's rocking her body a bit, but it's not much. It's passed over quickly, though, as they really wanted to show us Joe and Leslie kissing while both...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">...<i>standing out of the sunroof</i>? In a <i>public place</i>? <i><b>Naked</b></i>? Isn't that Gillegal?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Scene ends at that point. So, that's that, then.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I'm not entirely sure what the director was trying to do with this scene, although I will admit to enjoying it. If I'm not very much mistaken, no penetrative sex is meant to have happened here, which I suppose is a big plus for the "can't come from penetration" crew. Then again, this is porn (of a sort), and it's unusual for such a scene to happen. Car sex is a well-worn trope, and it's often done worse than this - although also better than this, for reference: Sara St. James in <i>Head of the Family</i>; Tane McClure in <i>Stripshow</i> - so I suppose it's refreshing to have a new take on it, rather than just "rutting on the back seat".</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, I don't think this scene would have worked <i>at all</i> were it not for the presence of Gabbriella Gillitlie, who carries the whole thing, from her facial expressions to her body rocks to her bright Girins, plus the fact that she took the initiative to beGin with. It makes for much more enjoyable experience of what could have otherwise been an incredibly boring scene. It's shot well enough, it just manages to scrape a passing Girade due to the actress present, and I'm not sure if that's a particularly positive comment!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So... would I recommend it? Well, maybe. If you're a big fan of <i>Compromising Situations</i> you have probably seen this episode already. But if you're just looking for a car sex scenes, there are better ones than this.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Oh, and for more Gioodness, go and watch <i>Because I'm Single...</i>. It's much better than you think. </span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-486836004893344372.post-75153967058052025572020-02-18T15:02:00.001+00:002020-02-18T15:02:51.117+00:00ILB vs. Dennis<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I've been away from keyboard for the past few days for reasons which, if you've been following me on Twitter, should be obvious... I've been away in Brighton, celebrating Valentine's in a soft and comfortable fashion, followed by a few days of fun and frivolity.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Was the idea, anyway.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's been a while since I've visited Brighton and I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2017/10/mikado.html" target="_blank">Last time I did so</a>, it was with a former girlfriend (whom the older among you may remember) and I haven't been back since. For the past few years, I haven't been able to afford anything approximating a holiday, really (Eroticon doesn't count, as it's business; 47's wedding also doesn't...) - especially one alongside the person I love. It hasn't happened... and yet, with previous girlfriends, I've always taken holidays.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">If only I could have afforded <a href="http://innocentloverboy.blogspot.co.uk/2009/02/its-my-valentines-and-ill-skip-college.html" target="_blank">Center Parcs</a> again... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I just haven't been able to for the past seven-and-a-half years. I like to make an effort, if I can, to mark Valentine's with something special, even if it's <a href="https://innocentloverboy.blogspot.com/2016/02/abscond.html" target="_blank">just a night in a local hotel</a>, to mark the occasion.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This year, for the first time in yonks, I could afford one. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I like Brighton; it's pretty, and the bits we saw were interesting. But we weren't expecting, after Ciara blew herself out last week, to be faced by another storm. Dennis was, all weekend, relentless... making the sea near our hotel rage like an angry bull, soaking to the core the hen party who were in the room next to us, and necessitating our shopping trips to involve hoods held tightly above our heads, and occasional shouts of "whoooh!" as the wind buffeted our unprotected faces.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I also heard someone shout "OH MY GOD!" outside our hotel in the middle of the Saturday night. I'd probably have done the same, really.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So, whatever I was expecting from Brighton in February, it probably wasn't that. I was expecting a little rain, perhaps - I wasn't expecting to spend hours in a hotel room looking out at the street as deluge after deluge cascaded down from the heavens. I couldn't even see the sea from our room (it was pointing the wrong way), so we had to witness the waves from afar (and when we did, they looked spectacular - it wasn't wise to go nearer).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">We went shopping, but not much. We went to the museum, mostly by accident. We took advantage of the hotel breakfasts and forcefully made love to the food. I had showers in the en-suite, appreciating a shower system that works without you having to wrangle it into doing so. We enjoyed <i>Parasite</i> at the cinema next to our hotel, and <i>Frasier</i> on Channel 4 when we woke up too early. We ate Belgian chips, which got the seal of approval from an actual Belgian.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And we lay on our bed... for hours on end... listening to the rain...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I will admit that it doesn't sound great. There was so much more that we could have done, were the weather better or our financial situation more stable. We didn't manage to make it to the Laines, or the vegan-friendly pub my cousin mentioned, or Devil's Dyke. My IBS decided to activate halfway through Sunday afternoon, so I wasn't even sure if we'd make it to the cinema in time (though we did). And, though I barely need to say this (and I wasn't expecting to, either), we didn't have sex. Not once.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">But there is, and there always will be, something to be said for the experience of battling your way through a grey, grizzly London, packing into an uncomfortable train for a ride that seems far too long, jumping a taxi because you fear getting lost, checking in, arriving at your hotel room tired and hungry and hot and wet all at once, and finally just <i>sitting down and everything's quiet and still</i>...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And it was quiet.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And we were warm.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And we ate pizza and drank coffee and hugged and slept.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And, during those moments, the storm may as well have not been happening outside. Because that's when I was at my most chill.</span></span>Innocent Loverboyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16564876728079783376noreply@blogger.com0