Thursday, 23 October 2014

Multiskilled Workers

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's good to have a hobby.

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

The Machine Stops

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

Hope to.

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

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

And I've used it to write blog posts.

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

So I wait.

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Soft Porn Sunday: Nataliya Joy Prieto & Jeffrey James Lippold

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

...Canon in D? Really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't care.

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

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

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

Sunday, 12 October 2014

Soft Porn Sunday: Susan Hale & Tre Temptor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, 9 October 2014

Is it possible to be too nice in bed?

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

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

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

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

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

Is it possible to be too nice in bed?


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

How goes the work?

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

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

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

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

...and then I had a further thought.

How do I know he's not doing that?

Sunday, 5 October 2014

Hello, Smiler

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

One of them is my ex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then I knew that already.




Saturday, 4 October 2014

Review: Belle de Neige

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

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

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

It's put me off skiing for life.

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, 30 September 2014

Having a stroke

"Are you collared?"

The girl didn't answer, partially because she was paying lots of attention to her boyfriend (or, as I assumed, her Dom - or possibly both, of course), but mostly because I said it very quietly, mostly to myself.

I was standing on Oxford Street handing out leaflets and talking to clients outside while enjoying the last of the summer sunshine through a slightly autumnal haze. Yesterday I passed my time by monologuing to myself, mooting the idea of an Erotic Independent Film Club (EIFC) and actually made a list of films, because I am that cool. Today, street life was slightly more entertaining and, crucially, I was doing this for less time.

The girl turned and walked away, upon which I noticed that what I had assumed to be a collar was probably just a fashion statement - wire mesh worn around her neck - but you never know. I was so concerned with amusing myself regarding this concept that I almost completely missed the second girl walking directly towards me. Accompanied by a couple of friends, she looked purposeful. Hot black girl with long curly hair and unreasonably large chest. Okay, I can cope with that.

I prepared to step aside. I've been doing this extra thing for work for the past couple of weeks and, since it's Oxford Street, I've spent most of my time sidestepping people like I'm a confused Knightmare contestant. This girl was no exception, I stepped to the right and...

...she stroked me on the left arm.

And I don't mean a brush, or even the brusque shove I get from Londoners who are too important to deviate an inch from their intended route. It was a full-on stroke, from my shoulder to my elbow, firm and smooth, with the palm of her hand. Without so much as a glance at her strokee, she continued on her way, eventually becoming swallowed by the throng in the distance towards Centre Point.

I stood there in shock, with no idea what just happened, not sure whether to feel violated or flattered. People coming by have taken pictures of me, hurled verbal abuse, claimed to be a poet named Zoltar, even taken a flyer every now and again... but actual physical contact is something I had just never expected - especially not a stroke! Especially not from someone I don't know! And especially someone who didn't even look at me!

And so I did the only thing that made sense in that situation.


Sunday, 28 September 2014

I have the weirdest ideas sometimes...

When you imagine something, do you find it easier to do so with your eyes open or closed?

Okay, so it's an odd question. But it's also something that's been confusing to me for a long time. Technically speaking, I'm pretty sure that if you do have your eyes closed, it's easier to slip into visions and imaginings because there's no outside distraction, such as shapes and colours; however, I've always found it easier to daydream with my eyes open - as do most people, I'm sure, with the slightly glazed expression and unfathomable mouth shape. Even in bed, where I tend to concoct a superhero-based storyline to keep myself entertained, then it's much easier to do so with my eyes open - not very conducive to going to sleep, of course.

But then again, it shouldn't matter anyway; if your imagination is strong enough you're seeing what's inside your head, and your body doesn't have to obey any silly "what it should look like on the outside" rules. I certainly didn't care when I was at work and slipped off into a fantasy Zelda-inspired world halfway through writing important notes, nor in year 7 when I was fighting Galgamort the Destroyer in the middle of the playground and must have been attracting some funny looks.

Which brought me, in one of my more lucid moments, so the subject of sexual fantasies. Everyone - or nearly everyone - has sexual fantasies, I reasoned. Some of which have tangible results (even if stretching does the same, for some reason). So what if I put this to the test? Could I concentrate on sexual fantasies for a long period of time with my eyes open and remain erect, without aid such as soft porn or written erotica or hot blog posts?

So I put on my computer and pulled down my trousers...

This bit takes a bit of imagination, so keep your eyes open for this bit. My desktop background (made, incidentally, by a professional model when she rediscovered Microsoft Paint) is royal blue with yellow stars on it (not as painful at it sounds...), so I focused my gaze on the star that's most central (to give myself a focal point to start from, not that I stayed there) and fired up my brainbox.

It sounds excruciating, keeping an erection without any visual stimulus or touching - I also reasoned that, as this wasn't masturbation, I didn't need to touch - but it wasn't difficult, nor painful. I just drifted through sexy visions generated in my mind palace and sat there with a massive hard penis and a silly grin on my face. This is, after all, what I used to do during my teenage years when I felt horny but had no will to masturbate, and I can't remember any need to have eyes shut then either.

And so I sat there. And I sat there. And I sat there.

Originally my aim was to keep staring into middle distance thinking about sex until it was too irresistible and I had to take matters in hand, or needed to go to the toilet - but, to be frank, neither of those happened. I just sat in my chair for about an hour or so and then found myself getting bored. I hadn't been up until that point, as it was just an unspecified time of pleasure sitting there with a pulsing erection and no distractions to my wandering dreamscape. But then, eventually, I got a jolt back to Earth and realigned myself to the mundanity of real life, although with no mess to clean up this time, so there's that.

Later in the day, when I was going through my earlier experiment, I had one final realisation: I hadn't really achieved anything. I'd gotten an erection, but I have lots of those, so that wasn't anything new; I'd been daydreaming with my eyes open, which I always do. Sometimes the two happen simultaneously, so that wasn't new either. The only difference here was that I had my pants down.

But no complaints here.