- Be smug. Really arrogant. Write about how you could have countless women if you chose to (but no ugly ones, obviously). The smugger you are the more attractive to women you become and the more likely it is you will get a book deal.
- Be sure to illustrate your blog with soft porn. Nothing enhances a well-written piece of prose like a picture of a huge breasted 17 year old with her arse pressed up to the camera lens. Women love to see images of how they would look if they were made by Mattel and are far more likely to email nudie pics of themselves to you if you make sure you keep a smooth minged flapshot at the top of the page. Oh, and if you can build a big arse into the background and ensure the reader is unable to scroll past it, ever, as it moves with the cursor, that would be fantastic. Women really, really love that. Makes 'em wet.
- Only acknowledge comments from people you might get to shag, or at least exchange nudie photos with.
- Make a point of trying to have sex with as many other sex bloggers as you can. This enhances your reputation and makes you look like a GOD. Be sure to drop plenty of hints so the casual reader knows you have done so, otherwise the sex you had was pointless. Much as if a tree falls in the forest with no one to hear it, sex with a blogger who doesn't blog it is lacking verification. You need those comments to let you know you really do have a cock, you really have done it with a lady!
- Betray no emotion. Emotion makes you look weak and your willy look smaller. Concentrate on the mechanics of sex (and illustrate it with a photo of a pneumatic blonde with a shaven minge) and how much the ladies gush their girl juices when you put your finger up their bum because you are that good at giving orgasms.
- Never engage in intelligent debate with women who don't appreciate just how sexually desireable you are. If they are not going to email you for the exchange of nudie photos and a possible meet then they are obviously hairy faced feminists with no tits who just want to make you look stupid.
- Your blog is your castle. You make the rules. You can write what you like about who you like and damn the consequences.
- All right, so if the consequences are bad, you can always build a bigger and better castle elsewhere.
- And put a new arse photo on it, bigger than ever!
- Remember, it's not just a bit of fun. You are doing this for the hits, for the possible book deal. Don't just take a laid back approach to it all. Make sure you are listed everywhere and try to get as many award winning posts as you can. Stick more nudie pics up and if all else fails, invent your own sex blog award system so you can win every week and all the new girlie sex bloggers will want to keep in with you. You can't fail!
Monday, 31 December 2007
Friday, 28 December 2007
What an explosive start to the New Year with arse pics galore and postings about sex! Many bloggers resolved to get really creative this year - maybe starting with some really arty shots of their own backside and more postings about putting things up their bottom in a hotel room. It was an optimistic beginning that left we, the readers, a-quiver with anticipation.
Ah, Valentine's Day - what a feast for lovers those Cupids of Sex-Blog-Land laid on for us this year. There were pink arse pics and postings about sex! Who could forget the romance of the tale of the cucumber up the ringpiece, or the spunky eyebrows?
March saw a return to the gritty realism that sex blogs do so well. There were spotty arse pics and postings about sex! I was particularly interested in the award-winning post about fisting for feminism in a Ford Fiesta. Stirring stuff.
Drip, drip, drip little golden showers....yes, a whole new world of watersports was unveiled as sex blogging took to the toilets and showed all of us dry-night vanilla types just what we were missing out on. Wet sheets, mostly. But kudos to those who bravely wrote of their piss-stained passions. And if that wasn't enough there were also ground breaking arse pics and postings about sex!
Spring was definitely in the air and so were many sex bloggers legs. As the sap continued to rise we were treated to some saucy arse pics and postings about sex! Fresh talent started to appear all over Sex-Blog-Land, with whole new perceptions to discover on how cucumbers feel up the arse and how good it is to have sex with a sexy person.
Half way through the year and still no sign of flagging from our tireless sex bloggers. Against all odds each day they still managed to come up with something new - perhaps an arse pic, or a post about sex! My personal favourite from June was the arousing story of how it feels to nosh off a stranger in a public lavatory whilst supposedly out picking up a pint of milk for the missus. A deserved Sugasm winnah, that one, I'm sure we all agree.
Oh, those suh-hum-mer.....NAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHTSSS........ Ah, Danny and Sandy never had as much fun as our depraved, sticky-fingered keyboard jockeys. Summer lovin' was having a blast, with hot arse pic action and postings about sex! And if you needed to cool down, there were many marvellous hints on how best to insert a cucumber into yourself or a loved one.
While many sex bloggers took a well-earned holiday there was still plenty of essential reading to be found online. If you were looking for something in the buttock department, there were arse pics aplenty, and some amazingly new and interesting posts about sex! The most fascinating post of the month had to be the revelation that if cucumber up the chuff is cool, then ginger in the fundament is hot hot hot! It certainly brought tears to my eyes.
The month of the literary sex blog. There were still arse pics and postings about sex, but in a blurry, obscure sort of way. The mindfuck was where it was at. The days of "he took me up the arse and I loved it," were over. The days of "he took me with his soul, my mind filled with billowing steam from the engine of his desire, and I loved it," were here. Readers weren't quite sure what had been put where, so just had to comment "beautiful and evocative" and go wank off on YouPorn.
As the nights grew colder and longer we could rely on our tireless sex bloggers to keep us warm. Cosy arse pics and snuggly postings about sex - what more could you need?
As winter set in, so did introspection. Angst was a common theme, with arse pics and postings about sex combined with a twinge of sadness. Kind of, "here is my arse - but why? We all want to stick things up it except for the person I married - what's that all about?"
Revelatory posts abound. Who'd have thought sex would be a different experience with different people? Or that Christmas could be so stressful? Thank goodness for our cutting edge sex bloggers. A whole year of posts and still they keep coming up with new insights, arse pics and posts about nobbing! Hurrah!
Sunday, 16 December 2007
Reading through many blogs you could be forgiven for getting the impression that spouses tend to be callous, insensitive, unfulfilling bastards and that only lovers are gifted with sexual prowess and the ability to siginificantly dampen a duvet. After reading some authors you are left wondering why they married such an unsexy, joyless git in the first place, and why they remain if life is so fucking awful and red hot lover is so a-MAZ-ing. (Usually it's because despite being an insensitive, sexless destroyer of self esteem, the spouse pays the bills, keeps the roof over their heads and is good with the kids. But will they tie their other half to the bed and jam a sex toy up their arse whilst snarling "you love it, you dirty slut"? Will they fuck. The selfish cunts!)
Anyway, this little post-ette is just to say that I had one of the best evenings I have had in a very long time with......(fanfare).....my husband. It wasn't set in a hotel room, it wasn't illicit, it wasn't risky but it was warm and loving, companionable, sexy and fun. I wouldn't swap it for a room full of dildo-wielding casual fucks. (Actually, that is quite a scary image, and not many people would put a tick in that box).
I have not been drinking.
Thursday, 13 December 2007
The reason the Sims have been on my mind is that I find blogging can feel a bit like that frustrating networking malarky sometimes. I am not good at maintaining dozens and dozens of online acquaintances. I can keep up with a handful of blogs and bloggers, and then I've reached the limits of my time and capabilities. Others seem to tackle it all like a military campaign. They are all over the blogosphere, flirting, luring, self-promoting. How the fuck do they have time to actually do the things they blog about, given the vast numbers of sites they visit and comment upon? I am fucked when it comes to the networking stuff, as I still find it all as bum numbingly boring as I did in the Sims. I mean, I could visit numerous blogs and comment "LOL" or "that was beautiful and evocative" or "you are SO hot!" or "wow, it's like you're typing my pain with your fingers, writing my life with your words" or some other derivative platitude, but it would all be just so much white noise. A quick burst of static that means nothing other than "I am here! Come look at me and leave your own white noise, quick, before my popularity levels drop again!" Bollocks to that. If I leave a comment it will be because something engaged me sufficiently to get my lazy fingers typing. Or because I have been drinking. Either way it will be a genuine response.
Maybe I'm just not good at playing the game.
Monday, 10 December 2007
Thursday, 6 December 2007
I want you to be the one to give me what I need.
I want you to make it how I love it - hot, wet and oh so sweet. Bring me tea. And a biscuit or two.
I want you to admire the way I sip that glorious liquid, my ruby red lips pressed to the porcelain as I drain your nectar. I want you to see how I swallow for you, swallow what you give me, again and again.
I want to hear your empassioned voice telling me how much I love it. Whisper to me as you bend over the coffee table with the tea tray. "You Biscuit Sucking Slut! You Tea Drinking Tart! Yeah baby, that's it, take it all!"
For you make the tea, and I drink it.
Sunday, 2 December 2007
1. You are invited out for cocktails, but it clashes with your favourite TV programme. Do you:
A) Compromise by offering to host the cocktail party at your place instead.
B) Record the programme and go to the party, of course.
C) Watch the programme with your laptop on your knees and have a virtual cocktail party instead with your favourite blogging chums?
2. You're planning a dinner party. What's on your menu?
A) A home-cooked three course meal accompanied by carefully selected wines
B) Whatever the nearest takeaway is prepared to deliver
C) A pot noodle and a fag - the rest of the guests are online and in different continents after all?
3. You decide to play a party game. Is it most likely to be:
B) Spin the Bottle
C) A meme along the lines of "7 things no one knows you put up your bottom"?
4. Your favourite party outfit is:
A) Chic and exquisitely tailored
B) Colourful and fun
C) A Pot Noodle and fag ash stained dressing gown, a pair of bunny slippers and your laptop?
5. You decide to host a party of your own. Who is most likely to appear on your guest list:
A) Only your nearest and dearest friends and family members
B) All your friends, work colleagues and neighbours - the more the merrier
C) A couple of bloggers and that geezer you chat to on MSN?
So, how did you do? Tot up your scores to find out!
Mostly As - you are sociable and prefer quality over quantity when it comes to partying.
Mostly Bs - you are the life and soul of the party, full of fun and Bacardi Breezers.
Mostly Cs - you are a Firewallflower and should consider getting out more.
Thursday, 29 November 2007
She said "That's too bad!
You really are lovely, you know."
From her I get hugs
And sweet tea in mugs
She brings me back up from my low.
I said "I feel sad"
He said "You've gone mad!
You're needy and too hard to please."
I didn't get hugged
Just left feeling mugged
He knocked me down onto my knees.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
I've had every cure thrown in the mix
I've been prodded and scanned
Traipsed the length of the land
Climbed up walls in windowless clinics
I'm the woman that no one can fix
I've consulted shamen and medics
Though I've cried and they've tried
I'm still broken inside
It's a woefully small bag of tricks
All I have for my wounds are these licks
And medicinal gin and tonics
A placebo or two
Well what else can I do?
I'm the woman that no one can fix
Sunday, 18 November 2007
Looking for a post that might relate to you
So you can say this blog is crap
You had one eye on my comments box
Which always makes you snap
And all the time you hoped that you’d be mentioned
That you’d be mentioned, and....
You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this post is about you
Don't you? Don't you?
You started several years ago when you were still quite naive
But you learned if you wrote about kinky sex
And kept nothing up your sleeve
Your stories would be widely read but be so hard to believe
And you so want to be picked for Sugasm,
Picked for Sugasm and…
You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you.....
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this post is about you
Don't you? Don't you?
Well I read you have a lot of admirers and of them all it seems that you’re number one
Your lurid descriptions of the way you fuck
Amuse far more than they ever stun
Well, you so need attention all the time
And when you feel overlooked you
Come here and then throw a tantrum
Then throw a tantrum, and....
You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you.....
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this post is about you
Don't you? Don't you?
Friday, 16 November 2007
You give me so much pain
You keep my buried treasure
You are my secret stain
You liberate my passion
You tie me up in knots
Your love flows without ration
Your torment cramps and clots.
Monday, 12 November 2007
Congratulations to my dearest blog friends, Slutty Fuck, Fucky Slut and Sucky Flut, for being this weeks top picks! Wow, you guys are the hottest. I would shake your hands but I can see they are busy elsewhere.
(Insert nudie lady picture here - preferably one with pneumatic boobs like lightly oiled spacehoppers)The shittest of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Shitasm participants. Want in Shitasm #9? Submit a link to your shittest post of the week using the comments box below. Participants, repost the shit list within a week, to the annoyance of anyone looking for something that doesn't appear as an identical feature on every adult themed shit blog, and you’re all set.
This Week's Picks
The Judicious Use of the Word Fuck
"If I could also find a way to add 'slut', 'whore' or 'cunt' to the title of my post I would be sure to be in the top 3 picks for the 24th week running."
Don't Forget the Lube!
"A bit of back door action doesn't do any harm either when you want to be sure your post will be the chosen one."
Double Penetration Group Sex Orgy Cumslut Fuckfest - With Pictures!
"And as I saw my sexy post had been chosen as the best sexy post, from the past week, ever, I pulled out and sprayed my hot, sticky seed all over the keyboard."
Sunday, 11 November 2007
I mean, how hard is it to give yourself a ridiculous fake name like Mr Pants or Captain Cuntflap or something?
Is it because their quota of creativity has been used up for the day with the monumental effort it took to think up a variant on "you suck" and then having to laboriously type that in with their webbed fingers, without getting too much drool in the keyboard? It's a tiring process, I agree, but a little bit of extra effort in providing a comedy name would reap dividends. People would read the next "you are crap" comment, see it was written not by the instantly forgettable "anonymous", but by the incisive and witty Hairy Bumcheeks. They would be looking out for more pithy put-downs and inspirational one-liners from the Oscar Wilde of the blog comment world.
So come on, anonymous commenters - next time you're cruising by the Boudoir to tell me I smell, make yourself look marginally more interesting and imaginative by signing yourself off as Fanny Batter, Ben Dover or Phil McCrack or something. It may take a little longer, and you may start to flag, but if you give the helper monkey another banana I am sure it can be done!
Thursday, 8 November 2007
No monument to prove I was desired
I don't need a trophy to assure me I'm adored
I simply close my eyes to be inspired.
Tuesday, 6 November 2007
Certainly, the alcohol had helped things along a little. There had always been a frisson of interest, an undercurrent of intent never expressed, with neither party willing to risk the shame of potential rejection. But now, with alcohol warming my senses, thawing my reserve - and a tongue in my mouth that didn't belong to me - I was beginning to feel more sure of the situation.
The evening up to that point had been fun, lots of noise, lots of people. We had been most tactile, my friend and I. Embracing each other at every opportunity, trading passing caresses, a casual finger trailed along an inner arm or the back of the neck, sensual lips brushed against sensitive ear, a whisper stirring perfumed hair. And all the time we’d been as uncertain as everyone else in the room – were we for real, did we mean it? We’d sat, for a while, in the throng, shouting over the noise, making uninteresting conversation with our fellow party-goers. I gradually, and with great delight, became aware of my friend’s fingertip tracing a delicate pattern over the nape of my neck, under my hair, hidden from view. I’d smiled and leaned a little closer, enjoying the feeling of intimacy in such a communal setting. Shifting position slightly, masking my arm movement from the rest of the room, I'd placed my hand on my friend’s back, effortlessly finding the small strip of bare skin where her top didn’t quite meet her jeans. Such soft skin, warm and scented, begged to be caressed. I'd found myself wishing I could explore further, to touch and be touched, free of the constraints of the crowd.
When my friend turned her head, to smile her delight, our eyes met and a moment of unspoken communication passed between us. The unasked question was answered, it seemed. We rose from our seats simultaneously and left the crowded, noisy room, to exit into the cool night air. Above us the moon was full and round, rich and fecund, that eternal symbol of womanhood, lighting the deserted gardens with a soft glow. As we crossed the frost-coloured lawns we left dewy footprints in the grass, lazily entwined, much as our fingers now were.
When we reached the Corsican Pine we stopped, wordlessly turning to fully embrace each other. She tilted up her head to meet my ruby red lips descending toward her, and abandoned herself totally to the kiss. The scent of her filled my senses, the feel of her lips thrilled me. Firm yet yielding, soft and demanding, insistent yet gentle. I thought I might never come up for breath, content to drown in these unexplored waters.
My hands had found their earlier position on the small of my friend’s back, softly stroking the smooth skin, drawing invisible lines up and down her spine, teasing with their promise to explore further, deeper, but not just yet…
I could feel soft hands engaged in exploration of their own, slipping familiarly under the silk of my blouse, making me catch my breath as they glanced over my belly, over my breasts, then down again to rest lightly on the swell of my hips as the kiss deepened with renewed passion. Our bodies pressed together tightly, desperate to connect as deeply as our lips and tongues. I broke the kiss first, to lift her fair hair from her neck and bury my face into the scented hollow beneath her ear, sharp white teeth gently nibbling the tender skin, sending pulses of desire down her body. Her hands grasped my thick, dark hair, first pressing my head even tighter into her neck, then pulling me away, lips parted with desire, to plant another kiss, even deeper than before.
We finally surfaced for air, me standing in the moonlight, hair dishevelled, lipstick smudged, panting hard, dark eyes large, dilated with desire. I could see the beat of her pulse in her throat, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Reaching under her top, I pushed it upwards, lifting it over her small breasts, over her head, and letting it fall to the dewy ground. Her nipples hardened inside her bra, her skin instantly covered in goosebumps, both at the touch of the cool night air and in anticipation of the pleasure to come. I lowered my head to her neck again, this time working downwards, trailing kisses and bites over her collar bone, the hollow at the base of her throat, and then further down, down, until my hot mouth was positioned over the thin fabric of her bra, where her nipple strained against the delicate material, begging for attention. She moaned as my mouth responded to her body’s plea, working against the fabric, creating a delicious friction. The sensation peaked and then faded as my kisses trailed their way over to the other breast and repeated the procedure, while she tightened her grip on my shoulders and tipped her head back to the skies, eyes full of starlight. I reached around her back to unhook her bra, sliding the narrow straps over her shoulders, freeing her perfect breasts so I could give those beautiful pink nipples the undivided attention they deserved.
The decadence of our situation, the cool night air on naked skin, the perfume and lipstick, the insistent sucking and gentle biting was intoxicating. We swayed together until she leant backwards, against the tree, the mossy bark rough against her back, contrasting with the soft skin beneath her hands.
That insistent mouth, that sucking, demanding, knowing mouth of mine was still working its magic on her body, sending jolts of pleasure from nipple to groin, while my enquiring fingers were busily working at the button on the waistband of her jeans, pushing at the denim fabric, sliding over smooth hips, suddenly exposed in the moonlight. She moaned and her pelvis seemed to tilt forward of its own accord, pressing her heat against my hand. She shifted her position against the tree, lowering her body, parting her legs slightly, eager for my fingers to find their way. And they did, unerringly, slipping down through the silky hair, now damp with desire, and finding the slippery heat of her, gliding between her labia, skimming past her clitoris, tracing all the right paths, effortlessly, with the sure knowledge only another female could possess.
Her breathing had become fast and shallow, interspersed with involuntary noises of pleasure. Her hands tightened in my hair, her pelvis raising up in its own counter rhythm to the movement of my probing fingers. I continued my fervent devotions with hands and lips until her back arched away from the tree and her cry echoed across the still night air.
She fell back, spent, her pupils dilated, breathing hard. She looked quite beautiful, gloriously abandoned and gilded with moonlight. I took her in my arms and held her tightly.
“I never realised until now,” I murmured into her hair.
“That everyone in the party can see us through the window.”
Monday, 5 November 2007
Saturday, 3 November 2007
There is something wrong with me
There is something I am lacking
It's called Virtue Deficiency.
I'm not very good at waiting
I'm not happy hanging round
I'm not content with later
I am Impatient, I have found.
There are meek souls who wait in line
There are some who won't pursue
There are those who bide their time
And wouldn't dream of jumping queue.
Not me, I'm tired of forbearance
Not me, I hate being "good"
Not me, I'm not rewarded
For any attempts at sainthood.
Don't tell me more will come later
Don't tell me I ought to wait
Don't tell me, I can't hear you
You took too long, now it's too late.
Thursday, 1 November 2007
Wikipedia gives this definition:
Polyamory (from Greek πολυ (poly, literally “multiple”) and Latin amor (literally “love”) is the desire, practice, or acceptance of having more than one loving, intimate relationship at a time with the full knowledge and consent of everyone involved.
I have seen slightly different interpretations on my travels through cyberspace, but this seems a fair summary. I am particularly interested in the "full knowledge and consent of everyone involved" bit. As some of the self-proclaimed polyamorous types I have been reading about on their blogs seem to fall down a bit on that last one.
Some seem to think that although they have a wife who believes she is in a monogamous relationship, as long as their lovers know about each other, that means they are polyamorous and not just shagging around.
Then there are those who bully, coerce or just plain nag their partners into "consent". These poor sods often acquiesce because they feel that any part of their loved one is better than losing the relationship altogether. Inside they burn with jealousy and insecurity, and the cruellest part is that the partner pushing for polyamory knows this. They are perfectly aware that their partner's natural preference would be monogamy, but nuts to them, their desires are the ones that need fulfilling most. Their bollocks might just swell up, explode and kill them if they don't get to explore their needs with other people. Or their emotional growth will be stunted. And you wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you? No, you must encourage them to be free, to be who they must be, even if it means you must become someone you no longer recognise.
In many instances the "amor" facet has been lost, with the "poly" taking precedence. There is a difference between forging a loving relationship with more than one person and getting your hand up the skirt of as many internet conquests as you can.
Oh, it fair makes my blood boil.
Still, I shall finish on a positive. Someone who does put the amor into polyamory is Curvaceous Dee. The love and respect she has for her lovers, and they for her, comes across in a way that is conspicuously absent from other faux-poly blogs. She doesn't claim it runs smoothly all the time, but hers is one of the better examples of how polyamory can work. Read and learn, pretenders to the poly throne.
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
And you can call it “loyalty”
But really it’s duplicity
And I have caught you out.
What you think is malevolence
Is my brand of irreverence
You insult my intelligence
The way you have sold out.
I don’t like how you patronise
Devaluing me with your lies
And I'm not one for big goodbyes
So I have thrown you out.
Monday, 29 October 2007
"I am a black cat."
"Where are your ears?"
"They fell off."
"Where's your tail?"
"I haven't got one."
I was beginning to sense some doubt and felt obliged to point out I had actually put a bit of effort into my outfit.
"I did stick some wicked claws onto my gloves."
They glanced, tellingly, at my bare hands.
"I had to take them off though. It was too hazardous when I went to the toilet. I've got a mask. I only took it off for a moment as it made my face so hot. It's got whiskers and everything."
Some people have no imagination. I shrugged and sipped more wine. As far as I was concerned, I was Catwoman.
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
So, which children's classic would you like to see alternatively illustrated?
Sunday, 21 October 2007
You take the kind of lovers I eschew
You've spread 'em for the losers, the loners and the lame
Fucking those that no-one else would want to.
I would shake your hand but I have read where it has been!
Still, leaving all my little jokes aside
By keeping all those weirdos in your pants and off the streets
It really is a service you provide.
Thursday, 18 October 2007
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
It won't split your face in half
Sitting there so dour
With a face to turn milk sour
Puts me off my wine
Stop looking so malign
Give us all a smile
Or would that cramp your style?
Angst is such old hat
You miserable twat.
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
It is hard, isn't it, to pick out one coherent voice in the cacophony? This weird online world we choose to visit is a hubbub of voices striving to be heard. Unless you have a good ear it is likely to sound like generic crowd noise, the "rhubarb rhubarb" of the extras.
Those who shout loudest are not necessarily those worth listening to, though that doesn't mean that those who whisper have anything groundbreaking to say either. They just want you to lean in close, a subtle yet effective seduction technique.
Finding a writer you enjoy reading as you skip from site to site is a bit like tuning in your radio. You turn the dial and hear someone reading the news, the cricket scores, a burst of music, a burst of static, until suddenly you find something that makes you pause. You sing along if it's a song you know. You consider phoning in if it's a discussion topic you have an opinion on. You hope that what follows next will be as enjoyable. If it is you'll tune in again next time, if it isn't you turn the dial and move on.
What I find most frustrating is finding an original, interesting voice and tuning in each day to find it slowly becoming assimilated into the bland melange, until it is no longer distinguishable from any other voice in the chattering babble.
What I find most amusing is a voice trying to disguise its accent. "Ay em no longer a sex bloggar," they enunciate, carefully. "Ay em a literate!" This is entertaining enough to tune into on a daily basis just to hear the gradual re-emergence of their true voice as the effort of maintaining the facade becomes too great to sustain. "Ay was listening to some opera last night," they will announce. "Being classy like what I am, and, oh, fuck me ragged, guv, those great big wobbly men make me so wet! Have I mentioned my stockings today? Sex!"
That makes me dance around the living room in sheer, unadulterated joy.
Tuesday, 9 October 2007
No, actually, looking back on it, it was all wank.
Monday, 8 October 2007
I suppose this means a plethora of "100 Sugasms - How Wonderful" posts now. I hate them all, in advance. If I come to your blog and see one I will deface it. Yes, I know that means my monitor will be the only real sufferer, but so be it. You drove me to this, Sugasm Spammers.
Sunday, 7 October 2007
You silly fucking bitch
Kick you in the chuff box
And scratch you like an itch.
You arouse my passions
In ways you'd not foreseen
You emit an aura
That makes me feel unclean.
God, I want to smack you
You utter waste of space
Push you off your slingbacks
And watch your fall from grace.
Friday, 5 October 2007
Thursday, 4 October 2007
Do you guys remember this highlight from August? Now, if you can be arsed, scroll down to the comments and read the one from Anonymous.
All water under the bridge now, of course.
And yet, as I perused my website referrers I discovered this. (So, that's who you are, Anonymous! Why didn't you just say so? If you'd been open enough to direct me to your post at the time I would have happily responded to the points you raised. As it is, rather than "reasoned debate from an old bear" coming "hard", it appears to come from a safe distance without any danger of an actual dialogue occurring. Still, that way you get to strut a bit in front of the laydeez and make out you bravely slayed the big, bad dragon.)
The comments (on this particular post, and others) do rather give the lie to the claim "I know none of these people" but they are amusing, nonetheless.
So, this last comment from the Anonymous Jungle VIP:
"Despite all the protestation.
She'll be more careful next time I think. Eiether that, or be worse."
Pretty much covers all the options there. No flies on that old bear. But what do you think, gentle readers? Have I become more careful or have I become worse?
Monday, 1 October 2007
Others, though, make a huge production number out of fucking off for a bit. They have Guest Bloggers, to post on their blog in their absence. They ask someone to moderate their comments while they are gone. Why? It's not like asking the neighbour to feed the fish or water the plants when you go away for a few days in Real Life(tm). No lives will be lost if people don't get to hear about what you stuck up your chuff on Wednesday. No harm will occur if people have to wait a few days to read about what Big Ken thought of your arse pic.
Is it an insecurity issue? Are these addicts afraid they will be forgotten about, abandoned, if there is nothing new on their blog for a few days? Is it all part of this insane Stats Fever that infects even the most rational blogger after a few weeks? Suddenly their sense of self worth is defined by how many people stumble across their blog and how many comments are made. The thought of potentially losing a reader because no new material was on the blog today brings them out into a cold sweat. So they have to schedule their machine to post automatically, or ask somebody else to post for them, in order not to see a decline in those precious precious numbers. It all gets very tabloid.
Or is it that some bloggers sense of importance has bloated beyond all recognition? Perhaps some bloggers truly believe their readers will suffer unbearably from withdrawal symptoms if they don't have some sort of placebo on standby. They look fondly upon their loyal commenters, suckling from their bloggy teats, ingesting the food for thought only they can provide, and believe a wet nurse is the only answer. They can only be weaned bit by bit, they believe, or they will howl all night long, such is their need.
Pah. What a load of cock.
Just fuck off, is my advice to anyone thinking of taking some time out from the blogging world. Just fucking go and stop making out you're some kind of BBC breakfast show DJ who needs someone to cover for them when they have a holiday. You're not. You don't. Fuck off.
I have had four days of intense mental stimulation, some physical exertion, and constant company. I have eaten good food, drank far too much wine, danced, entertained, acted, reacted, and laughed. I have not slept enough.
I am, however, no longer bored. I have not yet fully caught up on those blogs I frequent in these parts, it's true, but I am confident I shall be able to find something interesting this time round.
In the meantime let's have a gander at the comments on my boring post, below.
Thursday, 27 September 2007
Tuesday, 25 September 2007
Try my Fun Quiz to find out!
1. You are feeling in need of more attention. Do you:
A) Write a really thought provoking, interesting post to generate debate and get everyone talking to you
B) Decide to make a big "farewell cruel blog-world" post to generate "we'll miss you" comments that you won't be able to resist wallowing in and commenting on yourself
C) Get your arse out?
2. Satire is:
A) A literary genre, in which human or individual vices, follies, abuses, or shortcomings are held up to censure by means of ridicule, derision, burlesque, irony, or other methods, sometimes with an intent to bring about improvement.
B) Nasty filth
C) Best enjoyed with your arse out?
3. You are most proud of:
A) The friends you have made and the enjoyment you find through writing
B) Having impressive site stats and numerous top entries in the "This Is Good To Wank To" listings, even though it's pretty much the same list with the same "winners" and the same topics every week?
C) Your arse?
4. Literary posts are:
A) Well written, intelligent pieces that speak to everyone
B) Pretentious, incomprehensible self-absorbed, self-referencing bollocks that only special literary people in literary club should understand and be allowed to comment upon
C) A load of arse?
5. Reading parts of this quiz that you felt might possibly be applicable to yourself made you feel:
A) That Luka writes a lot of crap but it relieves the monotony
B) That Luka has RUINED YOUR LIFE!
C) That Luka should get her arse out?
So, how did you do? Tot up your scores to find out.
Mostly As: You are as normal and well adjusted a person as we are likely to find in the blogging world. You avoid conflict as a rule, but can argue your point eloquently should the need arise. You have lots of online fans/friends, but be careful not to veer into smug territory.
Mostly Bs: You are a twat.
Mostly Cs: You are cheerfully reliable in the way of the arse. You have many admirers and find you can defuse most situations with a carefully timed display of bum cheek.
Sunday, 23 September 2007
Did anyone get in a fight?
Who was sad, who was bad, who behaved like a cad?
What dramas occurred out of sight?
Who walked out, who’s in doubt, who has put it about?
Has anyone posted their arse?
Who got kissed, was I missed, who got royally pissed?
Whose fancies have turned into farce?
Did you post, who wrote most, who appears to be toast?
Did anyone start a new blog?
Were you bored, or adored, did you win an award?
Who is finding a new horse to flog?
Who’s at rest, who was best, who’s had some sort of test?
Who’s not playing with a full pack?
Who was mean, who was queen, who was mostly obscene?
Just where do I start, now I’m back?
Saturday, 22 September 2007
*Presses play on CD player*:
Hello, Hello. It's good to be back, it's good to be back."
*Has a bit of a sit down in a that-was-too-much-exercise-after a week-of-over-indulgence stylie*
As soon as I get unpacked and this bottle open I shall have a little peruse of the blogoverse to see what you've all been up to while I've been gadding about enjoying myself.
And then I shall take the piss out of it.
Hooray! I'm back!
Friday, 14 September 2007
I know you will miss me terribly, and that the sex blog world will seem emptier somehow without me pointing and laughing at it, but I am hoping you will all copy me in on what I'm missing while I'm away.
When you spot something interesting or amusing do flag it up in the comments box, so I can enjoy it when I return. Be eloquent. Be pithy. Enjoy yourselves. Oh, and the most beautiful and evocative comment will win a fantastic prize!*
So, see you all in a week! Be wicked, bad and naughty for me.
*Definitions of "fantastic" may differ from person to person.
Monday, 10 September 2007
To qualify as "literate" you will need to include a lot of analogies in your writing and obscure your meaning as much as possible, so that your post resembles a prolonged cryptic crossword clue.
Oh, and the subject matter should be about yourself whenever possible and emphasise how very special you are.
If you are still in any doubt as to whether a blog is literary or not, here is a generic example to help you:
"I am like water. See how my surface sparkles in the light. Yet don't be fooled when you look into my liquid depths, it is only your reflection you see, not the inner me. I lie hidden in the abyss like a fish, some dweller of the ocean floor, formed under pressure, unique and unseen.
Or maybe you are the fish. Slippery and somehow wet. I am elemental, like fire. Or wind. I blow strongest when you are weak, like cheap tea. Like a fairground ride I go up and down. Admire my bright lights, listen to the music I make. Enjoy the ride and breathe me in, like oxygen. Don't try to understand me though. Like the deities I am a mystery. I can not tell you where I am, you must find me, follow my clues and dig me up, like treasure. See how my jewels glitter, desire my lustre on your skin, but don't try to wear me everyday, I am far too precious and rareified for that! I will draw you a map with the salt of my tears. But don't try to find me!"
And so on.
It has made me appreciate "and then I came all over her tits" a lot more, I can tell you.
Sunday, 9 September 2007
Forget Sugasm/Oopsasm - even Shitasm.
There are really only two things that people wish to know from these repetitive circular lists:
1. Am I on it?
2. Which posts can I wank to?
Well, to save you all the bother of tiring your wanking hands and fingers any further, I am here with a new feature, the Wank Week Wound-Up.
Frankly, this week has been piss poor. Very little in the sexblogs I have perused (on your behalf, selfless type that I am) to inspire a spot of self abuse, I must say.
Best erotic prose goes to Amy, with this post. I reckon that should inspire a bit of rummaging around in a few people's undies. Plus, there are many images of bosoms, which is always good.
If bosoms aren't your thing and you prefer arse you could do worse than read Bittersweet Me on a Thursday.
If , like The Man, you prefer a shaven minge with a bit of metal through it you could have a read of this (or this or this). Don't know if it'll bring you off though. Perhaps someone could let me know if it does?
Other than those, it's all been the usual smug crap, with not even a jauntily inserted cucumber to brighten my day.
Saturday, 8 September 2007
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
Tuesday, 4 September 2007
Would it help to arrest your downfall?
Would your anguish seem less,
If you suffered distress
Caused by my pointy shoe in your ball?
Would a kick up the arse do the trick?
Would it stop you from feeling heartsick?
Would it distract your brain
From emotional pain
If I work some boot/buttock magic?
Sunday, 2 September 2007
Blog Law says I really should make the effort and answer the list of questions below as everyone is just gagging to find out my inner thoughts on things like my favourite Spice Girl, or my hair. No, really, that's not me taking the piss, those are two of the more interesting questions. Look:
*What side of the heart do you draw first?
Well, we're off to a good start with a choice opener. Were these questions drawn up by American teenage girls, by any chance? There seems to be an assumption that we all wile away the hours doodling love hearts on our exercise books. Well, no, actually. Some of us are past that stage. I sit around all day doodling crudely drawn nobs onto historical figures in library books, like a proper grown up.
*Can you dive without plugging your nose?
Well, yes, anyone can. Whether anyone can do it without cruelly burning their sinuses as they fill their cranial cavities with water is another matter.
*What color is your phone?
Its colour, you mean? Hint O Smegma.
*Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?
Fuck right off. Only those with no mental capacity for Thinking Things Through would believe this would be fun for more than a few minutes, no matter who the unlucky object of your tethered affections might be.
*Where are you right now?
The Land of The Bored, hence having to resort to this festering pile of donkey doo to try to alleviate the tedium.
*How do you feel about carrots?
Given my extensive research on such matters, I understand they are great up the arse, but not as good as cucumbers or ginger.
*How many chairs at the dining room table?
8 plus 2 benches. I entertain a lot at the Boudoir.
*Who is the best Spice Girl?
They're all shit. Sporty is less shit than the others. But she's still shit.
*Do you know what time it is?
Yes. It's the time this list really should have finished, as it's far too long.
*What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator?
Never happen. I only take the lift.
*What's your favorite kind of gum?
Gun gum. Useful stuff.
*T or F: All is fair in love and war?
What the fuck is "T" or "F"? Trite? Fatuous? If so, then yes, T and F.
*Do you use words that you don't know the meaning to?
Argh! It's "don't know the meaning of"! Illiterate tag-list monkeys, you piss me off!
*Do you like to sleep?
Yes. I also like to eat and breathe and go to the toilet. Why, why, why is this 12 year old's list of wanky questions doing the rounds of all the sex blogs, why? We can't all be this bored, surely?
*Do you know which US states don't use Daylight Savings?
Why would anyone outside the US give a flying fuck? Can the creators of this tag-meme-thing even point to the US on a map of the world? That's what I'd like to know. Actually, no I wouldn't. I'm lying, I don't care.
*Do you know the song Sugar We're Goin' Down?
I always play it on my kazoo at parties.
*Do you want a bright yellow '06 mustang?
I wouldn't mind a bright yellow moustache, that could be fun. I want to see if it would tickle anyone's fancy.
*What's something you've always wanted?
*Do you wear a lot of black?
Does rubber come in other colours?
*Describe your hair.
*Are you an adult?
*Who is/are your best friends?
Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker. Sometimes I hang out with Ruby Cabernet.
*Do you have a tan?
No, it's just dirt.
*Are you a television addict?
I am down to just 20 televisions a day.
*Do you enjoy spending time with your mom?
I enjoy spending time with my dear old ma, yes. "Mom" indeed. Tsk.
*Are you a sugar freak?
I am not sure what that is. Is it like the Elephant Man, made out of sugar lumps? I could make one but then I would be overwhelmed with pathos everytime I looked in the sugar bowl and tea time would become tinged with sadness.
*What is your favorite movie?
Shaun of the Dead.
*What's your sign?
Hump backed bridge.
*Where do you wish you were right now?
*Who did you copy this from?
The Man. He made me do it. Him, there.
*How do you know them?
I found him rummaging through my knicker drawer at one of my Boudoir Book Club soirees.
*Would you have sex with them?
Hmmmmm...... He does have his own flogger as well as his own hair and I would be a prestigious notch on his bedpost, but it would be deeply unfair to ruin him for all other sex bloggers.
I am not tagging anyone else. I don't care what anyone elses favourite Spice Girl is or what colour their phone might be. I am very self-involved like that.
Monday, 27 August 2007
The Postman Always Knocks At No. 5
“I think this is yours,” I say with a smile
Handing over the brown cardboard box
“He brought it to me, though it says 'No. 3',
When nobody answered his knocks.”
“Have you opened this? Have you had a look?”
He examines the box for a sign.
“Because if you did, if you lifted the lid
Whatever you saw is not mine.”
“Well, really. I’m hurt. As if I would look.
You should know that I really don’t care
It means nothing to me, and I didn’t see
Your dildo and lace underwear.”
“They really aren’t mine, you nosy old cow!
These are items I’m hoping to sell.
It’s just a figurine, it’s nothing obscene,
And fabric to package it well.”
“I don’t give a stuff if you wear a bra,
With your 'figurine' stuck up your arse.
I know you obsess about wearing a dress
I see you at night through the glass.”
“My windows? Well, yes, you looked through my box
The word “private” means nothing to you.
You should get your own life, stop looking for strife
And get your own parcels to view.”
“Next time I’m asked if I’ll sign for your post
As it’s too big for your letter box,
I will tell him no way, just take it away.
Go pick up your own cocks and frocks.”
Sadly, the first rule of Swing Club is we do not talk about Swing Club.
However, today is Slide Club. The first rule of Slide Club is wear shiny trousers, then you'll slide faster and no pushing on the steps.
Friday, 24 August 2007
The question is, when you have a tiny little blog, like the Boudoir, with a small, yet select, number of regular readers, can you really have that much of a detrimental effect on a Goliath of a blog, with thousands of readers who will return and enjoy regardless of what I may or may not post on here?
Does it really have that much of an impact?
I began the Boudoir because I was unable to post my opinions freely on certain blogs. I discovered that if you held an opinion contrary to that of the author, if it didn't perpetuate the myth, if it pricked the fantasy bubble, it would be deleted. That frustrated me a great deal. Still, I was informed, their gaff, their rules.
So I decided to open my own gaff, where I could post as I chose, say what I liked and no-one could delete me. It has been more popular than I thought it would be. I think I sometimes say what others are thinking but feel unable to post for fear of finding themselves outside the inner circle. You can only post comments that support and agree on most blogs. Debate is something which simply never happens. I don't believe that's healthy.
I am more than happy to argue my case with anyone. The situation now is much as it was at the genesis of the Boudoir, with certain parties rending their garments and wailing "not fair! Luka is a big bully!"
No, Luka is not a bully. And nor are her commenters. There is such a thing as Free Speech (you may have heard of it). If someone does something that seems silly, anyone of us is at liberty to say "that was silly and made me laugh." If you post in the public domain, if you harbour dreams of one day being A Real Writer, then you'd better get used to a few dissenting opinions, and fast. I am a pussycat compared to Real Life, believe me.
I will tell it like it is. I will happily hold my hand up and confess my sins. I would welcome a debate, a discourse on the rights and wrongs of lampooning sex bloggers. The truth is, those who bleat the most, will also never, ever take me on in a reasoned, fair argument. They would argue it is because I am far too childish, too babyish, to bother with. I would argue it's because I would run rings around them and still have time for a couple of nob jokes.
Still, here I am. I am waiting for that intelligent debate. Would anyone care to tell me why it is wrong to poke fun at some people, but not others? What is the difference between lampooning the practice of figging (and it was the practice, not the person, you'll note), and, say, lampooning the entire male population, just as an example? I am most interested in the frank and honest exchange of opinions on this one.
Thursday, 23 August 2007
For those of you who have been following another blog elsewhere you may, now, be familiar with the sexual practice of "figging". In essence, this is where you insert a "finger" of peeled ginger root into the anus, to induce a harmless, but intense, burning sensation.
What is less well know is that the word originates from a much older term, "feague", the definition of which is:
"To feague a horse; to put ginger up a horse’s fundament, and formerly, as it is said, a live eel, to make him lively and carry his tail well."
Basically it was a trick used to present an old, tired beast as a younger, livelier model.
It is interesting to see the old practice of sticking ginger up the ringpiece to try to flog a dead horse is alive and well in blogland.
Yes, ma belle muse has once more worked her magic, and I am left giddy with the possibilities of sticking new and wondrous culinary items into my various orifices.
The humble cucumber, a favourite of organic produce lovers for years, has been relegated back to the salad drawer. Now there's a new kid in town - the ginger root!
I scoured my kitchen cupboards, looking for anything ginger, so I could discover what this "figging" business is all about. All the cool kids are doing it.
Sadly I had no fresh ginger in the house. Damn.
Ok, what else was there? I unearthed this:
which has ginger in it, but I suspected it wasn't really up to the job.
I paused and pondered. Hmmmmm.... Spice.... Ginger... Ginger....Spice...
OK, perhaps not. Silly idea. She is so far up her own arse I am not sure she'd be ready to adventure up anyone elses. Though I am quite sure she would sting a bit.
No, I must have something in the back of the cupboard that would do the trick.
Aha! Could have been made for me! The Lazy Luka I'm-not-actually-gonna-stick-anything-stupid-up-my-arse option!
Happy Half Mental Thursday! More in depth thoughts on this subject matter to follow later!
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
I know I enjoyed the cucumber post a lot.
But this, this is something special, that came in a beautiful box, gift-wrapped, with a bow. A thing of beauty to savour. Figging. With pic! Oh, thank you all the blogging deities and spirits of satire, thank you! Oh, my sweet muse, you never fail to deliver.
I have laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Tomorrow I get creative. Tonight I just lie back and enjoy my gift.
Saturday, 18 August 2007
"I can come just from reading a text.
I don't need your hands
On my mammary glands
Just some chat, cos I'm that highly sexed."
"I'm ever so manly, I am" he wrote
"You could come just from reading my blog.
Read how I'm hung
How I'm skilled with my tongue
And a right horny old Alpha dog."
"Oh, I'm such a cynic, I am" I wrote
"And I have to be perfectly frank.
I don't masturbate
When I read how you're great
And the irony is it's all wank."
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Must have sense of humour
Delight me and you’re hired
You’ll be working online
Most evenings, some weekends
Putting in the hours reaps
Rewards and dividends
Please enquire within
Fits like a second skin
Candidates are welcome
To send in their CV
Interviews will follow
Come sit upon my knee
To keep me entertained
Send your application
And you’ll be fully trained
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
However, I have never banned anybody from my forums, or even deleted so much as a comment.
I don't mind if people disagree with me. I enjoy a good debate, an argument, a ruck. It fires my synapses and I spark and fizz. I don't mind if people are rude. It doesn't make me look bad, and it means I can dive deep, really plumb the depths, to be as gratuitously offensive in return as I possibly can.
I'm trying to think what would make me ban somebody, other than them posting obvious spam or illegal images.
What are everyone else's thoughts on the subject? Have you ever deleted a comment? Or banned somebody altogether? And if so, why? Or why not?
Monday, 13 August 2007
"Don't you just love the way that a post - nay, a blog - that targets blog cliquiness has managed to build its own clique of resolutely non-cliquey folk, busily deriding every perceived clique, other than, er, that is, their own. Ironic. Just an observation. As our gorgeous hostess would say, needed saying, I think."
This is a blog that targets anything that stimulates me sufficiently to type about it. I am very liberal with my venom. It is not a limited resource. I wouldn't define the Boudoir as a blog that targets blog cliquiness, rather that this is a blog that targets certain cliquey behaviour from time to time. And, ultimately, of course, some cliques generate far more to point and laugh at than others.
I have yet to spot the Boudoir clique. Maybe it's so cliquey I'm not even in it. There are those that comment fairly regularly, but they tend to comment elsewhere as well. So far, to the best of my knowledge, there have been no Boudoir based posts about how we all want to live together in a meringue castle, with marshmallow clouds, and have fabulous sex with each other, in between writing our literary masterpieces. I'm checking the archives, but I haven't spotted a single reference to the Boudoir elite being an "inner circle" that none shall penetrate. Which is a shame, as I could do with a laugh. I shall ask the gimp to keep his eyes peeled, though, in case the clique are hiding under my bed, designing hilarious t-shirt slogans ("Boudoir Bitches!") or something.
When I do spot any derision-worthy behaviour you can rest assured I will be eagerly composing something barbed and fabulous, regardless of where it occurs.
Sunday, 12 August 2007
The shittest of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them.
Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Shitasm participants. Want in Shitasm #8? Submit a link to your shittest post of the week using the comments box below. Participants, repost the shit list within a week, to the annoyance of anyone looking for something that doesn't appear as an identical feature on every adult themed shit blog, and you’re all set.
This Week's Picks
Response to "Posting Typsy"
"I thinl AMy coukld handle double penetration. I notice my little cunt isn;t twalking about THAT yet. God. The second Maragarita is getting to me."
"His touch. My sigh. We are light, we are oxygen. We are beautiful and evocative. I cry. He cums on my tits and leaves."
"Bollocks! Arse! Big fat hairy elephant fannies!"
She huffed a bit and sighed.
"And that means that you don't like me,"
She stamped her feet and cried.
"But," he ventured, quite perplexed
"You know that isn't true.
I write about you all the time
And chat for hours too."
"Not good enough!" she snapped, in tears
"You commented elsewhere.
You comment on your other friends
The ones I won't go near."
"I'm Alpha Male!" asserted he,
While puffing out his chest.
"I comment where the hell I like
And where I think it best."
She lectured him, she whinged and whined
She spat her dummy out
"All right," said he, defeatedly
"I'll write away your doubt."
He commented on every post
She'd written the past week
So now she knows just what to do
To keep her Alpha meek.
I see all this and shake my head
Watch Utopia fade
The inner workings of the clique
Are not as they're portrayed.
Thursday, 9 August 2007
As (stupidly) promised last week, here are my clingfilm bloomers. I can confirm that my buttocks were as fresh when I removed the clingfilm as when first I wrapped them. Well done, Extra Wide Clingfilm!
As an aside, I just want to say a respectful "hats off to all those who manage to photograph their own arse and keep it in focus". I failed in that department, and so - to the great relief of all concerned - pictures of my own arse will not become a regular feature of the Boudoir.
All other forms of arse remain.
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Measure every word
Practice til you’re certain
You do not sound absurd
Keep up with me, match me
Try to walk my walk
Can you fit in my shoes?
Back up the fancy talk?
Why this competition?
Anyone can see
However hard you try
You can’t out-alpha me
Monday, 6 August 2007
In itself, a list should be nothing to fear. A list is functional, a useful tool for imparting necessary information clearly and swiftly. Lists, to my mind, are not really a form of entertainment being, as they are, inherently dull. Lists are lazy ways to fill space (which is why they are such a popular feature in Sunday supplements and magazines).
My katalogosophobia kicks in whenever I go a-wandering through blogland. It is a list-filled minefield. From the dreaded meme ("8 Tedious Things About Me You Didn't Know and Never Wanted To!"), to the irritating Sugasm, to the Sex Blogger Special - the lovers list.
You know the kind of thing: "And then there's Neville, who is my soulmate and confidante. He likes to be tied to the radiator and pelted with cream buns. So different to dark, brooding Hector, with his artistic temperament. He loves to paint his bollocks black and rest them on my eyelids while I fellate him. He calls this his Panda Passion Performance. Then there is Tim..." And so on for a good few scroll downs.
This type of list is a form of validation, I suppose. A way of saying "Look! Look at all these people who found me attractive enough to fuck me! Am I not desireable? Am I not exciting? Do you not want a slice of this action?"
Which is fair enough. And it works, the comments soothe and reassure. Yet I am still left with my aversion. Maybe my attention threshold is simply too low. Or maybe I just don't have much interest in any list I am not topping.
Friday, 3 August 2007
The shittest of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Shitasm participants. Want in Shitasm #7? Submit a link to your shittest post of the week using comments box below. Participants, repost the shit list within a week, to the annoyance of anyone looking for something that doesn't appear as an identical feature on every adult themed shit blog, and you’re all set.
This Week's Picks
Slut is a Feminist Issue
"And the reviewer had the cheek to say we'd be better off reclaiming the word "dull" since our endlessly dreary posts on the subject had taken them to new levels of understanding of the word!"
Fanny By Gaslight
"Excuse me, young man, but you appear to have your moustache in my woman's area."
"Would I be less of a bitch
If someone would scratch my itch?
Would I stop causing a ruck
If I simply had a fuck?"
Thursday, 2 August 2007
Smug Girls Who Think They're It
Sex and insecurity, infused by the lame
Smug, Catty and Deadheaded
"I just laughed so hard I think I dislodged my cucumber."
"We're great, aren't we?"
"Better than them."
"Especially that one."
"He met them both this week you know."
"Yes. But we will meet him and have a Big Fuck Fiesta. We win!"
"Do you think anyone will realise we really are this transparently insecure?"
"No, we are far, far too clever for anyone to spot that!"
Wednesday, 1 August 2007
I have never been impressed
You think that means I'm bitter
I am sure that means I'm blessed
I love my independence
And I don't follow the herd
Few deserve my reverence
And your words leave me unstirred
It doesn't mean I'm joyless
If I find no joy in you
It only means I possess
An alternate point of view
Monday, 30 July 2007
"Oh my god!"
"Like what you see?"
"That wallpaper! I haven't seen anything like that since the 70s."
"LOL. But what about...this!"
"This. It's all for you, you know."
"Hang on, I'll just make it full screen. Oh yes. Goes well with your wallpaper."
"What are you wearing?"
"A Fat Slags t shirt and big knickers."
"Can I see?"
"Why would you want to?"
"Are you touching yourself yet?""Oh yes."
"Let me see. Put your cam on."
"I haven't got a cam."
"Then why do you have a webcam icon next to your pic?"
"Oh, that webcam. It's broken. It only shows bored women eating cheese."
"Just put it on."
"What kind of cheese is that, anyway?"
"So, you going to take your top off?"
"I have. I am completely naked and saucing myself up as we type. Sadly, with my webcam being broken as I explained earlier, all you can see is a bored woman eating cheese."
"But I'm really horny!"
OK, readers, over to you. What do you think happened next?
Saturday, 28 July 2007
The spirit of sharing is wonderful. The support given to each revelatory post is outstanding. "Bravo!" read the comments. "Oh, you lucky slut! I'm so envious!" And so on.
Occasionally I will read something that sets all my alarm bells jangling. I have read posts that truly shock me. Not the ones designed to shock, of course. I mean, yeah, yeah, so you got tied up and spunked over by 5 different men and all with an avacado up your arse. What do you want, some kind of award? (Well, you're in luck - I am sure some cybertwat somewhere is designing a crap meme-style Shockin' Blogger award you can gush all over at this very moment.)
No, sometimes I read something and think "You can't be serious. Surely you must know you have gone insane." Yet when I read the comments beneath, the sex blogging community have posted a very different verdict: "Wow! Hot stuff! Go for it!"
Which is all very well if you're posting about maybe buying some new thigh boots and a corset, or possibly shaving your pubic hair into a love heart or something. But when it's a post about meeting a stranger for sex because your cyber dom told you to, or about taking the kind of risks that could well end in a world of hurt for all concerned, or about the pain you've caused, or the cycle of abuse you want to escape and yet keep flinging yourself back into - when it's that kind of post you would hope at least one commentator would have the courage to speak up. Just one person to swim against the tide and say, "Actually, no. Don't go for it. It sounds grim and will most likely end badly."
Maybe the real friends do so in email and the blog posts and accompanying comments paint a false picture. I don't know. All I do know is that I read the "you should do whatever makes you feel sexiest" style comments and despair at the one-dimensional faux-hedonism of it all. What kind of advice is that? Yeah, do it! If anyone gets hurt, at least you got to do what makes you feel sexy! You might end up dead in a ditch, or divorced, or disillusioned and alone, but at least you got to do something that people you don't know pretended to feel aroused by! Woo!
It's a great little community.
Friday, 27 July 2007
The shittest of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Shitasm participants. Want in Shitasm #6? Submit a link to your shittest post of the week using comments box below. Participants, repost the shit list within a week, to the annoyance of anyone looking for something that doesn't appear as an identical feature on every adult themed shit blog, and you’re all set.
This Week's Picks
Lord of the Ringpiece
"Oh, so many alpha males desperate for a slice of my hot botty action. But there is only one Lord of the Ring, only one who can bend it to his will. And he does not share power."
Blogging my Flogging
"Ow! You fucker. I only bent over to pick up the paper."
"I sit on the seat, her in front of me. I tried it with her behind me but it just wasn't the same. I run my tongue, searching, flickering like a strobe light. I'm concerned she might have a fit so I stop. I pull up her right leg to rest her ankle, stork-like, on my shoulder, revealing her birds nest of pubic hair, wiry and abundant and everything me and my Remington Fuzzaway have been saving ourselves for."
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Do sex toys need to be de-sexualised in order for them to be accepted by some women? Or is this simply a marketing myth on a par with the desire to disguise sanitary products as sweeties and the belief that vaginas themselves should be disguised as pine forests, with the liberal application of chemical sprays?
I believe these ideas persist because they tap into that same rich vein of shame that the purveyors of such products have drained for decades. The message is repetitive and unchanging: as a woman you shouldn't feel proud of your vagina or your sexuality.
You should be concerned about odours. You need some FemFresh, scented tampons and a handy wipe. Then when your poor chuff rebels at all the harsh chemicals, the same manufacturers can flog you some thrush cream.
You should be concerned that other people - other women, even - might know that you menstruate. They must never know! If they see you carry sanitary products in your bag you will be a social pariah and no man will ever want you. You need to wrap it all up in ribbons and bows to make it safe and non-bloody.
You should be concerned that the urge to be penetrated with a phallus of some description, to want to have an orgasm by yourself, makes you a strumpet. You need something cute to take the edge off such raw power. Then it keeps it not sexy, really, not adult, really. You can remain infantilised, your sexuality trivialised. (Male sex toys, I note, have no cutesy bunny equivalent.)
Worryingly, it seems you should even be concerned that your vulva doesn't look like those you see in pornography, given the rise in popularity of labiaplasty.
I am not sure why these ideas persist, or why women keep buying into them. It really is ok to have a cunt that smells like a cunt. I don't expect cock to smell like a summer meadow (though I do have a hankering for spunk that tastes like chocolate).
It's ok for people to know you menstruate. It's not a secret. I have only encountered one man, the husband of a friend of mine, who was so distressed by the concept that he insisted she hide her sanitary products where they would not offend his sight while sitting on the bog. I suggested she hide the toilet rolls also, as they eventually get covered in shit, which is far worse.
It is ok to have sex toys that look like they were made for your cunt, rather than looking like they were made by the Early Learning Centre.
And it is more than ok to have a normal body, in all its imperfect glory. Big flaps are fun! Put it on a t-shirt and spread the word.
Monday, 23 July 2007
I don't get off on frotting myself against the faces of small animals. I can see a fluffy bunny or a dolphin and feel no urge at all to shove its visage into my groin. This is great, as I can happily visit pet shops or the Sea Life Centre with no fear of social embarrassment.
Sunday, 22 July 2007
And chances are that if the post title includes a Roman numeral, and is part eleven of an unending series of tedious, drawn out, wank fantasies masquerading as Proper Writing, it is probably not going to be worth the bother.
However, if you are still not convinced, as a public service, I am prepared to offer up a condensed version so you can decide if reading the entire post would be a wise investment of your time.
Reprobate in a Tutu
The Nudie Ladies VIII, Chapter 18
There were all these nudie ladies, and I nobbed the lot of them. When I stopped nobbing them they got all lesbotic with each other before letting me nob them again.
It was great!
Log in tomorrow for the next enthralling chapter!
Saturday, 21 July 2007
If I wasn’t quite so tired
Finishing the washing up
Has left me uninspired
I could put my stockings on
But I simply can’t be arsed
I did consider lipstick
But now the moment’s passed
I could play with you, lover
I don’t have the energy
It’s so hard to stay awake
When playing just with me
I could be a dynamo
But if you take me to bed
I’ll lie down and close my eyes
And fall asleep instead
I could have such a passion
If I only had some rest
I’d wear my boots and corset
And not this thermal vest
I could fuck you all night long
If you help me, there's no doubt
Then I won’t be so knackered
And we both can be shagged out
Friday, 20 July 2007
The shittest of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Shitasm participants. Want in Shitasm #5? Submit a link to your shittest post of the week using comments box below. Participants, repost the shit list within a week, to the annoyance of anyone looking for something that doesn't appear as an identical feature on every adult themed shit blog, and you’re all set.
This Week's Picks
11 Things Women Don't Know About Men
"You do look good without makeup, just not as good as I look with it."
Won't You Take Me To Spunky Town?
"Well that's not going to wash out in a hurry."
"'Just leave the tray there,' I breathed, tugging my towel off in one fluid motion and hanging it on the bellboy's magnificent bellend."
Thursday, 19 July 2007
>In the car park at Asda.
>Are you wet?
>Yes, it's raining.
>What are you wearing?
>High heeled shoes, seamed stockings, a tight black pencil skirt and a fitted blouse, buttons undone to show just a hint of the lacy basque I have underneath. And a thong.
>No, not really.
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
"It's going to be quite a long day for you," I said to the Maid. "You'd best get started."
I sat and watched as she resignedly began to pick the cigarette butts out of the foie gras. Fuck me, but that was a humdinger of a brawl, last night.
It had all started so well. A select gathering. A few drinkies. A bit of chit chat, the chink of glasses. Very pleasant. Then someone said something about someone else being a clueless wanker and before I could say "mind the vol au vents" I was wearing a bowl of sherry trifle and grinding Quavers into somebody's hair.
Fucking Book Club.