Friday, 30 May 2008

It's only words...

Level 4, Level 4, A, prize, A, A, A, 2xA*, prize, B, A, BA (Hons). I've always thought words are sexy. I've lived through words and their potential to do so many things is evident. If you know how to use them, of course.

While masturbating, I've sometimes used words to my advantage. Particularly earlier today, for example; I was, as you do, enjoying myself. There were pictures in my head (memories, actually - you can probably guess), but I don't think I'd have had such a good time were it not for the words I was putting into the situation.

That sounds a little confusing. The situation/memory/person I was focusing on didn't need words - they were an integral part of my thoughts. That is, there are words to describe it:

I was having sex with her.

Just look at the sentence above and tell me that's not sexy. It really, really is. Just to say it in such a blasé fashion. Six words which not only say what's going on, but leave a lot to the imagination too. So, with that ringing in my mind, I moved on.

I was making love to her.

Now that's always been a good one. I think it's that incongruous "to" after the action. You don't make love "with" someone (although technically you do...), you make love to someone. Blimey. And it's a phrase that rolls off the tongue laced with sexuality.

He said, "Come with me, my love, come with me into my room... where I will lie you on my soft, warm, comfortable bed, dim the lights, caress you softly, and soothe your pain as I make love to you through the night, while the rain patters gently on the windows."

Of course, erotic writing isn't always buxom females and muscular men in faux-Victorian settings (I don't actually read it, so I wouldn't know). It's definitely not all slash fiction - well, it had better not be! But the deliberately pretentious passage I wrote up there is basically a random situation. When you're using words actually directed at someone, then they really achieve their sexy advantage... particularly if you're intimate enough with someone to be able to tell them exactly what you're thinking:

I'm in that mood. I want you, and I want you now. Here. Now. I want to get you into my room, kiss you desperately, hungrily... and then hurriedly take your clothes off, lie you back, lick you to near-orgasm and then ravish you silly, over and over again... until you scream my name, at the top of your voice, and I wouldn't stop until you reach that peak and cum your gorgeous little heart out...

And then there's the words you can moan during sex. But even those I can't emulate... although, as I reached orgasm earlier on today, my mind definitely had a fair try.

Thursday, 29 May 2008

Never give out your password or credit card number in an instant message conversation.

I know I'm attached, and if you're reading this, I'd imagine you do, too. But some people - particularly this girl who kept offering me oral sex (although I doubt she was for real) - doesn't appear to get it.

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
what time shall we meet then?

Innocent is as Loverboy does says:
never?

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
that's a bit too early for me

Innocent is as Loverboy does says:
later than never? how does that work?

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
that's perfect

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
uptight cunt

Innocent is as Loverboy does says:
no, just attached. *bows*

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
oral sex doesn't count as cheating, duh

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
lol

Innocent is as Loverboy does says:
it does in my book!

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
you'v e written a book? great

Innocent is as Loverboy does says:
i have.

Innocent is as Loverboy does says:
it's called, "innocent loverboy's guide to refusing oral sex from strangers."

IF YOU JUST WANT SEX WITH NO STRINGS - USE YOUR HAND says:
it's not gonna sell well

Innocent is as Loverboy does says:
works for me!

At which point, creative use of the "Block" button was administered, and the world was suddenly made that little bit brighter. <3

*

[Additional: The comments thread in this entry is turning into a debate. Any over-the-line comments fuelled by anger are not exactly what I'm wanting. Opinion, yes, but not war. I am against censorship and won't delete anything, but (and I'm getting in before any of this starts up) if you can't be civil, shut the fuck up.]

Tuesday, 27 May 2008

Space

The thing that troubles me most about being attached is when someone is not there.

This doesn't mean that someone is not in your presence - no matter how enamoured you are, there are going to be points when, physically, you are not together. There always are, specifically if you do not live too close to each other (fortunately for me, however, the journey I can make actually isn't as far as you'd think). What I'm referring to is that, when you are used to someone being in a specific place, you expect to see them there after a while, even if they're not - a family automatically stepping over the space where a dog used to lie, for example - and therefore, the... [well, not shock, but an emotion close to it]... is something that brings about a slight feeling of unease.

Despite a walk around London earlier on today, a trip to Selfridges where there were cakes, but no fridges (they are clearly lying in their name), and a subsequent visit to the Tate in which a surprisingly interesting and thoughtful display of street photography was present, what got me the most was the fact that she wasn't in my room when I got back home.

It's not that we spent all our time in bed; rather, the rest of the time, we were on the move, whereas in bed - particularly while just lying there peacefully holding each other - a feeling was basically forged. You know, a feeling of what has been, and what can be.

By the time we had our farewells at the station, we were both very tired, and all I wanted to do was get back home and go to bed, but I got back home, and... waivered. She's not there, but the faint scent of her body spray still is.

I don't feel lonely, I don't feel sad. I do feel loved, and appreciated, and cared for.

But I also feel a little uneasy.

For now.

Sunday, 25 May 2008

What I do is secret

My mother wants me to be a magazine journalist.

While I can see the advantages of it (it's one of the jobs I could conceivably do without slitting my wrists), it's extremely different from my current job and difficult to get into.

And then, of course, there is the problem of what I should write about.

Now, we all know what I write about, but my mother doesn't. Not that I want her to, but it is quite galling when I hear her say, "well, you don't seem to write enough articles to build up a portfolio of your work." Especially seeing as how I spend a lot of my spare time writing lengthy articles in a sex blog (and additional pieces for other things, some of which have, sadly, sank without trace).

I may have to build up a portfolio of my other stuff, none of which is as satisfying as this stuff.

Oh, how British.

Saturday, 24 May 2008

Addiction VII: Nun's Tipple

There's something to be said for the female form. It's curvaceous, attractive, smoother than the male, and it has breasts.

I'm not really like other men (*hordes of girls shout, in chorus, "oh gosh! really? we hadn't noticed!"*) in that I didn't take for granted the fact that breasts are considered attractive, and attempted to work out why they're so damn attractive. There's no actual reason for it, as Hugh Grant expounds upon in Notting Hill; they are, in fact, just extra bits of flesh.

I think it's the nipple.

Not that I'm attracted to nipples by their shape - some breast fetishists will often ask about the size of the areola or how pointy the nipple is - in fact, compared to the breast itself, or the girl's face (of course!), it's not always the best of sights (not ugly, per se - just not exactly something of immediate preference for someone as thoughtful as our ILB). It's just very sensitive.

Mine are extremely sensitive, and they go so far as to hurt under extreme stimulation. But we don't want to give you that. I'm here to say that, well, I just like to suck tits.

God, that sounds crude.

But it's true. The nipple has a huge collection of nerve endings which makes it one of the most sensitive parts of the body - there's always the idea of the nipple going hard after extreme excitement or stimulation (or just if you're cold, but that isn't the most preferable reason). And, as a vital bit of foreplay, I just like having one in my mouth.

It's amazing. The amount of pleasure you can deliver from actually sucking on a breast...
- circling it with your tongue, in wide flat circles
- then using the very tip of your tongue to work around the areola
- gently touch the nipple with the very tip of the tongue, or give it a traditional kiss with your lips
- take the nipple into your mouth and actually suck
- work the nipple with your tongue, or flick steadily against it, while it's in your mouth (by now it should be so hard that you won't have any problems)
- bite gently on it and vibrate the lower jaw rapidly; this is a very good sensation if you know what you're doing
- but don't bite too hard, unless you're into BD/SM, in which case continue, and have some plasters ready
- and when you are certain the nipple is at its hardest, move to the other one, using a hand to continue tapping at the first one, so it doesn't lose its stimulation

Of course, all this is rendered irrelevant when you actually have sex anyway, but the value of suckling is a fantastic way of toeing the line between teasing and foreplay, and it's been suggested that perhaps it's a good way of getting your mate to cum before any actual intercourse takes place. Maybe it's easier to do that through oral sex, but f you like suckling the nipples as much as I do, it would be a good thing to try.

Not that I've managed it...

...yet.

Thursday, 22 May 2008

Whisper

(This post is going to be somewhat explicit and maybe a little embarrassing. But then again, this is a sex blog.)

I have a longing. It's a longing for a certain person - my certain person, although I prefer to think, being the ILB that I am, than I am hers - and my head, my heart, and my lips occasionally drift to the memories of her that are fresh from the latest vestiges of time - making me giggle like a schoolgirl, live like a student, and make love like a Greek demigod.

But when I'm on my own, and the sexual mood takes me, I wonder to myself... what do I do? She is not here. I came while inside her the other day - why does my hand have to do this now? Porn has no meaning - I don't want other women. Fickle though I may have been in the past, I now want her. My penis wants her. Not just my penis, true... but when I am in the mood... well, you get where I'm going with this.

So what do I do? I want to cum, for the first time on my own for a week, or maybe more. What do I do?

So I put on a carefully selected sexy video. It has the moans, the sounds of sex, but nothing overly specific. I close my eyes, and visualise her body as the sounds come through. I lose myself in the moment, and I let myself fall away...

then i orgasm, and as i do, i whisper her name

Wednesday, 21 May 2008

Don't Wanna Die

I have experienced dizzying heights and pit-like lows. I have been euphoric, dizzy, supportive, dismayed. I have tried my best to help. I have done the best I can. I have enjoyed it.

I've had late-night pizza, jigsaw angst, bitching, celebrations both formal and informal, discussions about animation / hip-hop / careers / smoking / drugs / Holmes and Watson / all sorts. I've met new people, made new acquaintances, been in the most random groups. I have seen rowing, milkshakes, rivers, fields, underground bars, moths, and geese.

I've seen people playing jokes over MSN, discussing Facebook, talking about people, talking to people, appearing and disappearing at a moment's notice, drinking copious amounts, blowing noisemakers, throwing glitter, studying and then forgetting everything. I've had cuddles that last for hours, snuggles that last whole nights, kisses that blow my mind, and wonderful, frantic, meaningful sex.

I've had two days of a whole new life. It's probably never going to happen again, but I experienced the student lifestyle a couple of years too late. And, for what it was, I loved it.

Don't leave me behind.

I don't wanna die.
Don't wanna die.
Don't wanna die.

Monday, 19 May 2008

Spellcasting: D-R-Y

There's a display in Amora about the prospect of a man having a dry orgasm. (The subject is even vaguely touched upon in Wikipedia, so it has to be true). I had a dry orgasm the weekend before last, however, so it's no longer a prospect.

According to the girls I've talked to and/or openly asked (I was that curious a person a year or so ago), the spreading feelings of euphoria usually emanate from the stimulation of a certain area (not always the vagina or clitoris, seeing as how you can cause an orgasm by correct stimulation of any area in the body if you're good/lucky enough), but end up taking over the whole body (hence the occasional shiver that travels over the whole body of the girl, or the twisting and jerking that all of her tends to end up doing, plus the loss of control - although that's not unique to the fairer sex, really. This can be followed by aftershocks... or another orgasm if you're/she's really good/lucky.

Well, anyway, a dry orgasm's a bit like that.

The whole point, biologically, of a male orgasm is the release of semen into the female body (or, to put it another way, to fill her up with your love juice) - so it makes sense to claim that at the point of heightened sexual arousal, the sexual organs contract and release said salty milk [[this is Britain's entry into the Eurovision Euphemism Contest]]. Hopefully, you'll still be inside her when that happens, otherwise, break out the baby wipes.
But a dry orgasm isn't exactly like that.
From what I experienced (and have before, only not during sex), although the penis/blood-engorged mayonnaise cannon [[okay, okay, I'll stop now, honest]] pulsates slightly, not as much so as it would if it were ejaculating, and in a similar vein to the female orgasm, basically all the muscles in the body seize up and a feeling of being at your sexual peak ripples throughout the entire body, causing less of the sudden spasms followed by being extremely sleepy, and more of the almost-bestial roars followed by the puzzled sensation when you realise you've had an orgasm, but not actually cum.

And then you can keep going.

Saturday, 17 May 2008

Rambling poets / Poetic ramblings

To be in your presence is intoxicating, merely;
To hold you in my arms is to be in heaven, really.

Thursday, 15 May 2008

Week Without Wanking

I present here a conversation between Green Arrow and Black Canary:

BC: "Like the man who's been celibate for a year?"
GA: "Hal's got a big damn mouth."
BC: "Oh my God, it's true. Ollie, that is that about, if--"
GA: "You wouldn't believe me."
BC: "I don't believe you. It's herculean. It's impossible. How can you shut off a waterfall? How do you stop gravity from working?"
GA: "I was waiting for you."

Okay, well, that may not exactly explain things as well as I had exactly planned...

...but the message is, I haven't masturbated (or even gone so far as touching myself at all, truth be told, except for cleaning it in the shower)... in over a week. Probably well over a week. In fact, if I cast my mind back to this time last week, I probably hadn't indulged in that particular sin of the flesh since Monday. I certainly didn't on Thursday.

And over the weekend, I had a dry orgasm during sex, so although I reached Everest's peak, it wasn't snowing. (Or some other such metaphor. Look, shut up, I'm trying to be polite here.)

But - yes, it's been a week, possibly over, since I last had a wank.

Why?

I'm waiting. What's more... I'm enjoying it, too.

Wednesday, 14 May 2008

Closer than you think

"You should be a writer, Son."
"I already write, Mum. I write almost every day."
"Maybe you should write for Scarlet magazine. I saw a copy of that in the office today, it looks... interesting."
"I don't think so, Dad. But I know someone who..."
"Maybe they need a male perspective."
"I don't think so, Dad, because..."
"Like, a boy's corner."
"Dad!..."
"It's..."
"You're right, Dad. Maybe every female-dominated article-type text-based medium needs a column by an innocent lover boy."
"That sounds good, Son. 'Innocent Loverboy.' Maybe you could write like that. You could use that name, even. 'A Letter from Innocent Loverboy.' That sounds good."
*pause*
"You have no idea, Dad."

Tuesday, 13 May 2008

Addiction VI: Squeeze

Okay, we all know how epic cuddling someone can be... but, when you think about it, has anyone actually taken the time to really consider why it's amazing to hold, not move at all, but just to hold someone you love?

I know cuddling can be a prelude (and always is an afterlude, unless the person you are with is a selfish bastard/bitch) to sex, but that's only sex. Sex is amazing, I grant you (yes, you! I'm talking to you!) - but, when it comes down to it, at the end of sex, you can get tired. You can't get tired of a cuddle. It can go on for hours, days even, and the only thing you've got to worry about is getting too hot (or needing the toilet, or starvation...), and that can be averted by changing position, or removing an item of clothing (*ahem*).

And that's my point. They can last for hours. And while you (yes, you! I'm talking to you!) are holding your lover/friend/boy- or girlfriend next time, I suggest you use those hours constructively:
- Warmth. I know I've gone on about this already, but summer has suddenly pounced on us, and you can probably use body warmth to get a tan (note, I have no idea how this will work, but I hope it does), and be the envy of ALL your friends!
- Sleep. You sleep under a blanket or duvet (or in a sleeping bag, or on a sofa - allegedly), and they are soft and warm, so why not while curled up with a person?
- Consider the heartbeat. Really, that's one of the best things about hugging - your heart beats louder, because of the emotions running through you (and occasionally the pressure on your arteries caused by extreme squeezing). The heartbeat is a very powerful tool - not only is it a good indicator of how you are feeling, it is also rhythmically soothing... and can lull whoever you're holding to sleep...
- Stroke. I know, cheeky isn't it? But you (yes, you! I'm talking to YOU!) don't need to stroke anywhere untoward... although, as I've recently discovered, anywhere can be untoward if you stroke in the right way (*blush*), but a simple, repetitive hand running through the hair, or over the small of the back, or even another hand. You're curled up with someone, so you may as well take this action. It's repetitive so you don't even need to think about it that much, once you've started...
- Euphoria. The final stage. I can't even put this into words - wordsmith as I may be, there's nothing you can really say about this feeling. Nirvana, the state of absolute nothingness; mandala, the perfect circle? Not quite... Love? I can't say.

But I do have to say this - kisses, yes; sex, yes; cuddles... fucking HELL, yes.

Appreciate the damn things - they're what you miss most when suffering from the lack of love. (Yes, you! I'm talking to you!)

Sunday, 11 May 2008

Justify (watch us explode)

Given the intensity of the last post, perhaps I do need to justify myself before I do this.

I spent a lot of my time writing about relationships, but I cannot (for the life of me) claim to understand the way the heart works. I don't think it's anyone's prerogative to make that claim, either. Love is a rather abstract concept to grasp, and it'd be foolish to try and reason, using logic, the way that people fall for people... or the way people fall out of love with people, either.

I'm not entirely sure where this is going...

Okay, so, on Friday, snowdrop told me a few different things: one, that even though she liked (note the use of the past tense) me, I am still single; two, if any opportunity comes along, I should take it up. Since I liked her as well, this hurt quite a lot. To me, it said, "actually, I don't like you, go and find someone else." As if that sort of thing is something I can do, like order a pizza with four types of tomato and asparagus spears. But I digress.

I got a sudden invitation on late Friday evening to go and visit a friend. Because, basically, we both needed a friend - I was upset... and she was stressed. So onto the train I went, arriving at my destination so inhumanly late at night it was actually early morning. I found her, we hugged, talked for a bit and then went back to her place for some warming cuddles (which, as well should all know by now, is the best cure for anything).

And - now, you may wish to make me a badge labelled "fickle" for this part - suddenly, without any warning, I forgot about everything that had been bothering me. I forgot about losing my job, I forgot about my family stressing, I forgot about snowdrop. They were still there, but they weren't there any more. What was there, however... was this person, and their arms, and their face and hair, and... oh my.

I had a crush. A sudden, totally unexpected, completely random, heart-throbbing crush.

No, I don't know how someone could fall out of love and then in again within the space of twelve hours (realistically, twenty minutes). Maybe that's not even what happened. But, from my point of view, it happened.

I still didn't know what I was doing, but through a seemingly random set of circumstances we ended up in a kiss... and then in bed... and by the time the first light of morning rolled around, something had clicked.

I hope you all find this an adequate explanation as to why I am now in a relationship with someone intelligent, witty, attractive and talented, and - most importantly - she is not snowdrop.

Short version: I has a girlfriend.

Friday, 9 May 2008

Innocent Love

You know when:

- you meet someone, you spend time with them, you kiss them, you sleep with them
- you end up totally smitten with them and they seem to reciprocate
- you are miles apart...
- but you've been in a long-distance relationship before and it's worked
- they say that logically, it just can't work because of the distance...
- but your heart only wants them, and theirs wants you...
- but they are ruled by their head, and you by your heart

Sucks, doesn't it.

Then:

- they say maybe you should stop
- but you want to carry on
- and logically, you know this is going somewhere bad
- but your feelings want to say otherwise
- and you're a nice person so you don't voice your opinions
- and the conversation ends awkwardly
- and you hurt...

Yeah? You know that? Well, that doesn't just suck. It fucking kills.

Thursday, 8 May 2008

Hot Hot Heat

The summer does strange things to strange people.

I wouldn't say I'm more horny during summer. Not really. Perhaps the whole image of making love in large bales of hay to farm girls during warm summer evenings turns me on (boy, does it ever), and of course there's the added detail or more sweat during sex while it's hot, making for more lubrication, ease of sliding back and forth, and of course no covers on the bed afterwards, so you can sleep together totally naked and exposed to air, which has a certain na
ïveté to it, even.

Anyway... before I get any more in the mood to slide recklessly into any warm and welcoming girl (please form an orderly queue over there; snowdrop gets first priority), back to my point... I may not be any more horny during the summer, but I do flirt a lot more. Like, with everyone... constantly.

It's not that I don't flirt anyway, because, well, I do. A lot. But often, I manage to curb it. If I think I'm going too far, or she's not comfortable, or I'm not comfortable (usually, it's not the latter), I change tack and talk about something different. But mostly, I flirt - it comes naturally.
But in summer, for whatever reason, I just flirt more. I don't think there's any explanation for it - maybe it's the desire for a summer girlfriend, summer sex, summer lovin' (only not Summer Nights as I don't like Grease) - I don't know what it is. But it's summer, so I am constantly winking at girls I vaguely know, flashing smiles at counter girls, chatting informally to girls I work with...

I'm hardly a creature on the hunt (to all intents and purposes, I don't want to hunt; I have my sights on one person... mostly), but I am flirting. And I'm a nice person to flirt with.

Especially in the heat.

Bring it on.

Tuesday, 6 May 2008

Damn you Blacksilk

I was mercilessly tagged. What's that, some sort of sexual domination? I'm not used to it!

This is a non-sexual meme, so it's more suited to a personal blog, rather than a sex blog, but, erm... I'm not gonna link to that! Anyway, on with the rules.

1. Pick up the nearest book.
The nearest book to me - and it's not the one I'm reading at the moment - is the rather marvellous work, "George - don't do that..." by Joyce Grenfell. This is the reissued version, with "Stately as a Galleon" included as a bonus.

2. Open to page 123.
Alas, page 123 is not part of the Nursery School sketches. It's from "Stately as a Galleon" and is titled "Visitor". As Grenfell states, "I am never quite certain whether this speak is Dutch or Scandinavian." Thanks, really helpful.

3. Find the fifth sentence.
"Is always quite noisy and nowhere for sitting," says the Benelux-Scandinavian hybrid.

4. Post the next three sentences.
These three sentences go together wonderfully and really capture what the piece is about - how randomly fortunate is that?
"Yes, ve are here in London vis my husband. My husband is having business associate here in London, so ve are coming to London - and to Oslo, Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Paris, London - all over; and everyvere dere is a cocktail party. Most kind."

5. Tag a few people.
Fuck you.

Monday, 5 May 2008

Breaking the Pattern

It's an interesting pattern, my sex life. Consider the following order:

Rebecca: Girlfriend (100+)
Louise: Friend (c. 15)
Alicia: Casual Lover (c. 10)
Lily: Stand (1)
Kitty: Epic Fail (0)

So, since you actually can't get any lower than a failure, I had kind of hoped that my next sexual encounter would be a romantic one - that I'd go back to having a girlfriend and have great sex with her as well as companionship and perhaps enough joint money to get the hell out of my parents' house.

That's not quite what happened - but it wasn't far off.

I'd like to state (and these are her words, not mine - although I would sorely like to say the reverse) that we are not a Couple. We're not really in a relationship, although she turned down the offer of a date for my sake - very gallant of her, if I ever get those kind of offers I'd have done the same - I had to travel from London to Wales (sound familiar?) to see her and she isn't too happy with a long-term relationship which relies on two-and-a-half-hour trains rather than a quick call-up and a bus ride, or something.

But aside from not being a Couple, we spent the weekend acting like a Couple...

- We kissed. Lots. She started it, and she is amazing at kisses.
- We hugged (cue confused look on ILB's face as he realises he hasn't done an entry about hugging). In fact, there was barely a moment wherein we weren't in some sort of physical contact. A regular feature of the weekend appeared to be her sleeping on me (on me, capice?) - a pillow on my lap, her head on the pillow, our arms linked, and her drifting off. Sublime, and very soft. (Every girl, ever, has told me that I'm very comfortable to sleep on indeed. Hmmm, not sure if that's a compliment or not!)
- We listened to a lot of music.
- I cooked her some meals. I'm a good boy, I do domestic duties as well as being a lover. Check me out.
- We watched the entire second series of The Mighty Boosh back-to-back. What can I say? It was raining.
- We went to a small village and took in the history.

And as for the sexual things that didn't take place until last night...

- She gives the most amazing blowjobs. This is not a lie. Five stars.
- I gave her oral sex. This, she thought, would be tricky, as she is - how do I put this? - "on" at the moment. Nevertheless, I convinced her to let me lick her. The fact that some music was on at the time was rather helpful, as I managed to keep my licking in time with the songs. Half an album (that's about 20 minutes if we're counting) later, and she had had probably the loudest and most intense orgasm I've ever seen a girl having. Wow!
- We then had sex, which brings my total of people up to 5 (but who's counting?). Doggy style - I've never done that before. But it was pretty amazing. Neither of us came, though.
- So I gave her oral sex again. More music, more licking, another - bigger, louder, more intense - orgasm on her part. I had to crawl back up to the pillow end of the bed, because my knees had given out.

And now for something completely TMI...

I didn't cum. Not that I didn't want to - I actually couldn't.
This is not her fault at all. The blowjobs, sex, wanking, et ceteri were all fantastic (in reality, probably the best I've had on all counts - ever - with the exception of sex, because I was completely exhausted by that time). But for the whole weekend, I had a problem with achieving orgasm. I was there - I just didn't cross the finishing line.
This is something that happens to me and I like to call it 'stamina', although my sweetheart got somewhat worried that she wasn't doing something right, which couldn't be further from the truth. As she noted herself, there was nary a minute of the weekend wherein I wasn't hard (and if I wasn't, she simply gave me a long kiss, and that did the trick). I just... didn't cum.
I hope she understands that it's not her fault. Maybe I was just having dry orgasms. I certainly felt like that.

Conclusion: Fantastic, but actually quite painful weekend which has left me feeling both loved-up and empty in equal measure. Why painful? Why empty? Well - she didn't want me to leave. I didn't want to leave. We were both heavily into each other (more than was expected, I think), but the distance thing means that we're both still on the market. I'm not sure when I'll see her again and in what capacity (it's really up to her), but that didn't stop us both shedding tears as I bade her my farewell this morning.

Not a girlfriend, because of the M4.

She needs a name for me to refer to her as on this blog. I think I'll call her Snowdrop.

Hey, girl... you are beautiful.

Thursday, 1 May 2008

Sex and Shopping

I don't know what's more amusing about buying condoms: that they come up as "chemist goods" on the bill, the heading "family planning" that they come under in the shop, or the fact that the counter girl asked me what wanted them for.