Tuesday, 29 July 2008

Public Display of Attention

"I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you too," I said, trying to ignore the fact that, as of tomorrow morning, I'll be absent from not only the Internets, but also my home town of London - and this holiday makes meeting impossible, even though it should be fun. I kissed her softly on the lips, and kept doing so.
As her neck seemed more and more appealing, I worked my way downwards, figuring that since I'm going to be away I may as well take the chance. I wasn't expecting, but dealt quite well with, a long, slow and almost inaudible moan that could only mean the stimulation on her neck was turning her on.

By "dealt quite well", I mean "continued".
By "continued", what I actually meant was: I not only kissed the nape of her neck, but also stimulated it with my lips, teeth and tongue - not a bite (I mean, me? Bite? Really?), more of an elongated lick... and as her breathless, silent moans picked up in speed, so did her pulse, which I felt beating against my generous tongue.

I couldn't stop - I doubt that, even if I wanted to, I could have. Fortunately, I didn't want to. I knew what the result would be; I suppose it was inevitable. After a mere couple of minutes of mouth-to-neck attention, she whispered something which, although under her breath, was as plain as day - I felt it.
"I'm coming..."
I held her as she came, felt her shake gently, a slow grin unfurling on my face, gave her a final neck kiss, and then leaned back to gaze into her eyes.

"Do you know what you just did?" she whispered, in a post-orgasmic hazy voice.
I nodded my assent, as around us, the sounds and colours created by the rest of this afternoon's visitors to St James' Park worked their way back into my sense of perception, all blissfully unaware of what had just happened in their very midst.

Above us, the sun smiled indulgently down onto London.

Monday, 28 July 2008

Sweat

It's hot.

It's also the holiday season, and for that reason, nearly everything else is on hold. I don't have a job, but that's not getting me down. For the moment, I'm free. Left to my own devices, as it were. Free to live... free to love.

I'm spending some time with the girl, which is always, unequivocally, good - mostly - except from the times when we are apart. While she was away, I wrote her a song (and considering how my last song hinted that I may not be able to write them any more, it turned out quite well, comparatively) - and since I'm going to be away very soon, and then she is, again, there's bound to be a few rather emo moments from my side. I guess I dealt quite well first time around. Let's see about the second time around.

She said, the other day, that she needs space. But this wasn't the "I-don't-want-you-any-more" type of "I need space" that I've been handed before; she wants space... but she wants me.
"You want space, and you want me to be part of that space," I supplied.
"Yes."

Sweet thing to say, really. Considering that my previous relationship made me a pale shade of a person, considering myself to only factor into someone else's life, this one basically works on the premise of us being different people; our lives just happen to coincide quite well. That's love for you.

[Damn, no sex in this entry. Next time.]

Thursday, 24 July 2008

Coffee, Coke and Kink

So, CCK is closing down and that's Not Good News.

I went to the celebration/commiseration party yesterday (it was also my last day at work, so I had to find something to fill the endless void of the evening), and I wasn't expecting much. Considering parties I usually go to end with:

(i) consistent wallflowering on my part followed by me traipsing home at the end of it all feeling a bit let down
(ii) consistent wallflowering on my part followed by me traipsing home after an hour of boredom
(iii) consistent wallflowering on my part followed by dancing until my feet hurt and then traipsing home in pain
(iv) falling asleep in a soft, sinky, warm bed with my arms wrapped closely around a gorgeous female (although that's only happened once)

I thought I might as well go along and give my support, I wasn't really in anticipation of anything exceptional to happen.
For a while, it didn't. Nobody needed to pay for anything, so there was free cake and drinks, but not much coffee on offer. I descended into the red lounge, which was more packed than I've ever seen it before, and made my way to the non-alcoholic beverages, filling up on Coke and the slices of cake on offer. Then, and only then, did I take a look around.

A lot of people were in gear - no full-on fetish gear (until later on), but there were a lot of people in ill-fitting corsets, some people on chains, and a couple of people wearing Roman-slave-esque costumes and worshipping at girls' feet. Given the attitude of the regular clientèle at CCK, they were all merrily talking about sex and stuff they'd had and done (and in some cases, discussing this quite naturally while their subbies rubbed their feet or back - it's a hard life for some...) and, being the person that I am, I was ready to chat about it too...

...only I didn't. I didn't talk to anyone; I was too shy. I wrote a long message on the 'farewell boards' upstairs, and indulged in some more Coke. I wandered outside, upstairs, downstairs - looking at all the stuff on display - until I really thought I ought to talk to somebody, otherwise it would've been a wasted journey.
I decided upon chatting to a girl who, thankfully, was reading a book that I've read. This was quite cool, as there was something to talk about, and it was a good ice-breaker, until her friends arrived and she drifted off with them; after that time, though, the garden was open, and I slid into it (quiet at the back) to see if there was anyone else worth talking to.

Then I got a shock.

Harlequin's housemate walked in, and I recognised him before my brain actually put two and two together - he is also, coincidentally, a good friend of one of my best friends (incidentally, the friend who introduced me to CCK). I'll call him K, and my friend H.
"K!" I said, quite surprised. I'd worked it out by now, but I was still slightly shocked. He greeted me somewhat briefly, and then wandered off to talk to some other people, so once again I was left alone. I sent a brief text to H, in response:

You'll never guess what... I'm in CCK, and K just walked in!

H's response was also a shock:

Yep - all the cool people are showing up... I might be along in a bit too.

There was no way I could have left if she was going to show up - she's my best friend, after all - so what else could I do? I walked back into the garden and forced myself to talk to some people.
That is, after avoiding the slave who'd been forced by his mistress (who looked half his age) to act as a table. "Human furniture," she was insisting. I was so tempted to push him over, but she had a very severe-looking leather paddle and I thought I'd better not. Besides, Maxine Green had her drink resting on his back and I didn't want to go and fetch drinks I'd caused to spill.
"Don't you think his arms will be getting tired?" I asked, after watching this spectacle for about ten minutes.
"It's a table," a lady insisted. "Tables don't have feelings."

I was spared a discussion by overhearing a mention of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog by Jacqueline Applebee, who I hurried over to talk to, using Dr. Horrible as an excuse. Turns out she writes erotic fiction, recognised me by name and snogs everyone she wants to. A friendly chap named Mark strolled over and, with basically no reason at all, started making out with her.

Whoah there, Speedy!, said my brain. Let's hope he at least knows who she is!

Turns out that he did, actually. He was quite surprised to meet someone else as vanilla as he was, and therefore, we chatted quite amicably about work, places to go, and our respective absent girlfriends. Oh, and porn, too. We chatted about hard porn versus soft porn. Yeah.

The night was wearing on, and I'd forgotten almost entirely about H, until I got another text from her saying she'd be along in a bit. I re-entered CCK, and (being the literature-loving rogue that I am) picked up a random book and started to read it, without looking at the cover. It was, in fact, a sex education book aimed at kids of approximately 11. Sex education isn't given the right amount of attention in Britain, as we all know, but for someone who's now 23, it seemed a little patronising. Still, I suppose that's what they need to know in simple form; nevertheless, I read some of the questions out loud to a reappeared K, and he laughed a lot. Strange, that...

It was nearing closing time, and H appeared and immediately demanded free booze. We went to the lounge, passing Jacqueline Applebee snogging someone else, got some drinks (more Coke for me, natch), and walked outside - past Jaqueline snogging her third - to escape the heat.

Or that was the plan.
I felt compelled to hand over some money and so bought a small present for someone special. We were waylaid by an extrovert extrovert advertising Festival of Sins, and then spotted a guy dressed almost entirely in metal including nipple clamps. Undeterred, we all made it outside, and for the first time in the evening I felt relaxed enough to have a normal chat with a couple of people I actually know.

For what it was, I'm very glad I went, and yeah, I did meet some cool people. And I'm supporting CCK, so it was worth a go. But I'm not the most sociable of people when I feel slightly uncomfortable, and so the first couple of hours were a tad variable in terms of enjoyment.

But I went.
And I had a good time.
Kind of.
After a while.
Here endeth the lesson.

Farewell, CCK.

Tuesday, 22 July 2008

Yawn

I am exhausted, and cranky. Work has left me with cuts and bruises on my hands, sore points all over my legs, no energy in my arms, a huge blister on my foot... and made me a tired bitch.

What happens to your sex drive when you are tired? I wonder, idly, if it is possible to have sex while tired? Surely it's physically possible. But I don't mean the sort of sleepy sex you can have after waking up.

If only one of you is tired, then the other one could do all the work. But that's just not fair, is it? And then... ca you actually be that horny when you're barely awake?

It's something to think about, anyway.

I wish she were here. Her backrubs are amazing. I'm sure one of those and a snuggle would sort me out. For now, it's back to the resting.

Sunday, 20 July 2008

Holy Loverboy

Through a rather random chain of events, I was baptised as a Christian this morning. To be honest, it's not that random a chain of events - I've been a Christian since the approximate age of 6 and asked our minister to sprinkle the magic water recently; he even gave me a date... only I forgot.
Anyway, it was today, and therefore I was baptised. I was wearing a Super Mario Bros T-shirt and my testimony was slightly rushed (although suitably nonchalant; I'm sure you can imagine my speeches are about as serious as my blog entries), but it happened. I am at one with the Lord, and all that.

I could write about how to justify my rather liberal views towards pre-marital sex, homosexuality, the virgin birth, burning one's mother and so forth with the Christian faith, but to be honest this isn't the time (although it is the place) to do that, so that comes later. Instead, I'll tell you about another baptism I went to...

My best friend's baptism was a few years ago. He found God while wearing a trenchcoat and, although it's slightly scary how rapidly he's actually got into his religion, I was - and I guess I still am - pleased for the guy. He's risked alienating a lot of his friends and offending everyone possible for it, which may be a little stupid... however, he has faith and it's to be respected (if not necessarily agreed with).
However, I'm deviating (gosh!); I went to see his baptism and I actually travelled to where he lives (Canterbury, since you ask - or not) to see it. His parents went, too - which is more than can be said for my parents - and I know them well, so that was okay, as did his friends.

Full immersion for him, none of this slightly shivery water being splashed on the forehead, as I had - and he was very pleased to be reborn, it seemed - and after everything was dried off, we all went for a well-deserved lunch.

"Since I've been reborn," he said, "I'm going to live my new life by the first song I hear."

On went the car radio, and sure enough, the lyrics of the first song dictated how to live a life, all right...

"I'm horny... horny horny horny... so horny... I'm horny horny horny tonight..."

Thursday, 17 July 2008

TARDIS

"While we're here," I said, after confirming that my urine and blood tests were actually excellent, and that there's nothing physically wrong with me at all, "I'm trying to lose weight."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah. I'm not actually that thin. You probably can't tell, because of the clothes I wear, but I've got a paunch." I stood up and lifted my top up, revealing that I wear my trousers somewhat low-slung and tops which are too big for me - and that I do, in fact, have a paunch.
"I'm eating less, or differently - and I've been doing more exercise; like, two-hour walks and stuff. What sort of exercise would you recommend, though, if I want to - to decrease body fat, rather than build muscles?" (My arms, which have virtually no excess fat through years of playing games and thrashing my guitar, are actually quite muscular, so I'm assuming the same is true for whatever's underneath the stomach fat.)
My doctor considered for a moment.

He said exactly what I've been expecting; aerobic exercise, which immediately brought to mind pictures of out-of-work mums in old leisure centres, should help. Fortunately, this doesn't mean whatever passes for aerobics: I need to concentrate on things which make me sweat and speed up the heart rate. He suggested running (I don't do 'running'), swimming and brisk walking. I also thought of dance, which is something I should start doing again.

"What about sex?" I said, before I could stop myself.
"Sorry?" said my doctor.
"Sex makes you sweat, and makes your heart speed up. And it's a physical activity."
A wry smile unfurled on his face. "Well, I suppose, but when you're having sex, you know, it burns calories, but it's not for very long, whereas an hour of running..."
"Okay, I see your point."
"But if it makes you sweat, and it works for you..."
"Thanks, doctor."

I quitted the surgery, and considered, while taking the long route home accompanied by a fruit-juice-bar concoction, how much weight one might lose if they were having sex for a longer time than my doctor was thinking.

Wednesday, 16 July 2008

Rubber Love

I came, for the first time in my life, into a condom, earlier on this evening.

Yeah, I was masturbating. Sue me.
She is away. I was, ahem, 'using' her words, and my memories, as well as my imagination. It always works well... after a while, anyway. But I had a condom on... because I wanted to try.

I don't cum into condoms. It's just not something I've ever done. Non-latex, natural feeling, lubricated, flavoured, ribbed or dotted... whatever condom I have on, I've never cum into one. I don't know why... it just doesn't happen. I guess I prefer unprotected sex, but then again who doesn't? It's a more natural feeling. And it's not as if I don't like condoms. I do like them. They feel quite nice to have on, in the right circumstances - plus, they have the slightly cheeky factor so they're a bit naughty to buy (it's like saying, "Hi, I have sex!").

I've just never cum into a condom before. Something happens - or doesn't happen, rather. I could be having the most intensive sex of my life and I'd probably still only achieve a dry orgasm.

But this time, I basically worked at it. Not a bully wank, not a painful one, not with pressure. Just concentrated on what/who I was thinking about, trying to ignore the sounds my condom was making as I stroked it - although after a while they began to sound like a penis slapping into a vagina, so that helped as well - and after about half an hour or so, I felt the first tremors and the tightness around my crotch which could only mean I was about to cum.

I stroked once or twice more, which tipped me over the edge, and as I fell into a pleasant orgasm, I felt the cum fill up the previously empty tip of the condom. This time, it wasn't just precum that it had caught; the actual sticky white salty goo. I tied a knot in its end, felt a bit stupid for a while, and then threw it in the bin, wrapped in tissue.

So, maybe a bit of a pointless exercise, because all I did was masturbate. But I came into a condom, and that proves I can actually do it...

...if I set my mind to it...
...and I have the right stimulation...
...and enough time...
...and it's a good day, with the wind behind me!

But I did it!

Happy now?!

Monday, 14 July 2008

It's Only Words

This sort of thing is more suited to my personal blog - you know, the one where people know who I am. However, as it's doing the rounds on the sex blogs, I might as well post it here, just to prove how sad I actually am.

The rules are:
1. Bold all that you have read.
2. Italicise all that you start (there aren't many of these; I almost always finish books).
3. Put a star next to the ones you love (I didn't do the underlining, 'cause I'm a lazy-ass).
4. Add snarky comments in square brackets.
5. Print the list out, staple it to a Frisbee and sling it over a rainbow.

1. The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger

2. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
3. The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
4. Lord of the Flies - William Golding *
5. Life of Pi - Yann Martel *
6. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
7. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
8. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
9. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
10. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
11. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
12. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell *
13. His Dark Materials (trilogy) - Philip Pullman [If not for The Amber Spyglass, which I didn't like, this would also earn a *]
14. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens *
15. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
16. The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien [Do my eyes deceive me or is LOTR not on this list?]
17. Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
18. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
19. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
20. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
21. Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis *
22. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis [It is pointless putting this on the list as it's a Chronicle of Narnia.]
23. Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne *
24. Animal Farm - George Orwell *
25. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley [Did. Not. Like. This.]
26. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
27. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
28. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
29. Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White
30. Hamlet - William Shakespeare [If you're going to put the Complete Works, then don't put this up.]
31. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
32. Complete Works of Shakespeare * [Yes, I have read all of Shakespeare, I can't remember every detail and character though]
33. Ulysses - James Joyce
34. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
35. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
36. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen [I just can't get into it; I don't know why]
37. The Bible [Not so much a book as a library.]
38. The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
39. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
40. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
41. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
42. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
45. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon *
46. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov [Maybe a bit long, but thought-provoking.]
47. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
48. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
49. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien [Oh, THERE it is.]
50. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling *
51. Little Women - Louisa M. Alcott
52. Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
53. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
54. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
55. Middlemarch - George Eliot
56. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
57. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
58. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
59. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
60. Emma - Jane Austen
61. Persuasion - Jane Austen
62. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
63. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
64. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
65. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
66. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
67. Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery
68. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
69. Atonement - Ian McEwan
70. Dune - Frank Herbert [I prefer the video game from '94.]
71. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
72. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
73. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
74. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
75. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
76. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
77. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
78. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
79. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
80. Bridget Jones’ Diary - Helen Fielding [the original, not the re-written one. I also read The Edge of Reason.]
81. Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
82. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
83. Dracula - Bram Stoker
84. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
85. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
86. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
87. Germinal - Emile Zola
88. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
89. Possession - A.S. Byatt
90. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens *
91. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
92. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
93. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
94. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
95. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
96. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton * [The Magic Faraway Tree, I think you'll find. And, again, this isn't a book, it's a series of books.]
97. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
98. Watership Down – Richard Adams
99. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
100. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas

Friday, 11 July 2008

The Edge of Vanilla

"I really wish I was tied up right now."

I've only just realised how that sentence should have actually been, "I wish I were tied up right now." However (English graduates as we both are and, ergo, one of us should have spotted the mistake), I'm going to use the excuse that we were both too turned on to actually bother with the rules of grammar.

They apply in every other situation. Don't judge me.

I was slightly taken-aback. Given that my large, double bed has a huge metal bedpost, a quick tie wouldn't have been difficult. It would have looked right. It definitely felt right. Not having ever tied anyone up before (sexually or otherwise... although being in a Christian youth club and tying each other up while singing Bind Us Together was close), however (and not having considered the idea), I couldn't think of anything to tie her with.

I regretfully pulled out, and got up from the bed, wandering across the room.
"I think I've got a..." I said, as I pulled open my wardrobe and started rooting through my costume shelf. Come on... you've got something somewhere... a belt or a sash or a...
There it was.

I looped the long, thin, soft, lime-green sash around her hands. After she pulled them out of the loop with relative ease, I did it a few times and pulled it quite tight. A knot, then tied into a pretty bow. Using the rest of its length - it's a long sash, goes 'round my shoulders a good few times - I made some loops around my helpfully-shaped bedpost, and knotted those once, twice, three times.

I didn't tell her the sash was from a Robin Hood costume. Considering what we were using it for, I didn't really see the point.

Okay... so I've tied my girlfriend up. For the first time. Ever.
I considered.
This is going to be good.

And you know what? It was!

Wednesday, 9 July 2008

Phantasy Star X

I know I really shouldn't think naughty things when I'm working. Fair enough, if my job actually were sex writer, then that would be different. Alas, no. I've got a job (although not for much longer; I am applying for other things, honest!) which requires me to be alert and engrossed at all times. I'm quite surprised I wasn't called up earlier on when I completely lost awareness of my surroundings and slipped into a glorious sexual fantasy.

It's one that I've discussed recently on the 'phone, and it's a good one. Not really original - but then again, I don't tend to have any interesting fantasies; they all involve having sex - the situation in which the sex happens is different.

The image was:

We've come home from somewhere (anywhere). It's very late. Nobody else is in the house. I am feeling rather loved-up, and I'm pampering her. She's relaxed. We're both horny as fuck. We get in, and I shut the door behind us.

Time jump: a few minutes later. There is a trail of discarded clothes seemingly leading up the stairs, clearly abandoned in a state of frenzy. Up the stairs to the landing, and around the corner into my bedroom. The door's open, and we're making love on the floor. We didn't quite make it to the bed.

I'm on top. My hands are flat on the floor, and I'm pushing my body upwards, so I can look down as I'm thrusting in. Deep, steady and firm strokes. My breathing is as hard, and heavy and ragged. My penis is pulsating wildly, and the feeling of being inside her, warm and soft, is amazing.

But it's her voice that turns me on... the loud cries of pleasure, the moans, telling me not to stop, telling me I've got her g-spot, telling me she's coming... it's that which tips me over the edge. With a quite un-Innocent roar, I feel myself explode inside her, and the next thing I know, I'm shooting my load, filling her up with it.

And that's the first time of many.

At this point, something someone said found its way into my brain and I snapped back into focus as I realised I'd been lost in a dream world somewhere. Luckily (in fact, incredibly luckily, considering...), nobody had noticed - but I had a huge erection, and a practical need to have it.

I was in such a horny mood and I was craving it right then. Not the most idyllic of situations when you're actually supposed to be doing something else.

I dashed into the stock cupboard and readjusted my garments, feeling a little sheepish, yet unable to suppress a silly grin as I did so. See, although I knew I'm not supposed to get all turned on at work... I was pretty blissful, considering what I'd been turned on about.

Tuesday, 8 July 2008

Something Sweet

I want to hold her, naked.

Rather uncharacteristically, I don't want to have sex at the moment. I'm just "not in the mood". It doesn't happen very often; I've been positively needing it these past two days and will about 101%-certainly be rock hard as I fail to sleep tonight. But this isn't about that.

I want to be in a tight cuddle, without anything on, to feel the soft sensation of skin on skin, as well as the sound of a heartbeat and hair to stroke and a head to rest itself on my chest.

I'll want more, of course, but right now, that is all I want.

Who's with me?

Saturday, 5 July 2008

It's a fucking beautiful game

I don't like football one bit. I don't actually like sports, much. I've been enjoying the tennis on TV in bits, used to enjoy a round of golf, have a killer serve in ping-pong, and play Wii Sports, but that's about it. Football I hate with every fibre of my being. Not only am I rubbish at it, it's an incredibly violent game that makes people do stupid things.

Spain won the Euro Cup Thingy last week, and in this case it's the porn industry that lost out, and that makes me angry (because I seem to work better when I'm upset about something). "The three-day International Erotic Film Festival of Barcelona," says the Metro, "normally attracts around 50,000 sex fans* but organisers claim only 15,000 turned up this year."
What were the usual crowd doing? They were at home, watching football on the TV. Without pointing out the rather glaringly obvious solution of taking a portable radio with you to find out the final score - it cuts out the 90 minutes of men running about on some grass, which is all the sport entails - this confuses me. A festival of interesting erotic films or some football.

It doesn't seem like a choice, but evidently it was made.

"Football is one of the few things that can compete with sex," said FICEB director Juli Simon. Er... dare I say, "lol wut"?

I know which one I'd prefer.

But now, of course, I want to have sex in a changing room or something. That's the way my brain works, it seems.

* "Sex fans"? Are there people who don't like sex?

Thursday, 3 July 2008

Masturbation and Sexual Intercourse

The title of this post is a list of the things that make me cum.

The first is somewhat redundant because I don't really masturbate as much as I used to do now I feel the need much less (shock!), and the second only really seems to happen when I have sex sans protection, and as protection is much more important than the presence of sticky white stuff that looks like congealed milk, I can settle for the twisting, jerking feeling of dry orgasms while doing my best to give my girlfriend all I've got.

However.

I don't cum through being given oral sex, and I never, ever have. I doubt that I ever will.

This is strange, because something I've always enjoyed - and continue to derive an emotion similar to pride about - is my ability to (or the stamina required to) lick a girl to orgasm... yet the same happens to me and there's no orgasm as a result. It's weird. Sometimes it's even a little upsetting.

The thing is, it's not really my fault. I can cum, I just don't cum in a girl's mouth. I don't physically stop myself... it just doesn't actually happen. And it's not as if I don't enjoy blowjobs; I love blowjobs - but I think maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, something is saying, "a blowjob is foreplay, and as a boy you should cum during sex." It makes no sense, because there's so much intense stimulation happening, and I've had some fantastic blowjobs. But even though it's not a conscious thought, it explains why I cum more easily during sex.

It might be fair to say that although receiving oral sex turns me on, it doesn't get me off.

I suppose it's better than premature ejaculation, or something.

And it doesn't stop me giving, either.