Saturday, 31 May 2008
It was such a fantastically good and useful review that I have not been approached by any sex toy companies to review their buzzy bits of plastic tat. The miserable sods.
Well, fuck 'em. I don't need them or their overpriced bits of silicon junk. I shall henceforth review my own range of sex aids, beginning right now with The Brain.
The Brain is an amazing bit of design. If you were to remove it from its protective casing you would find it looks a bit like a cauliflower in a pool of blood. My advice is to leave it in its packaging and simply enjoy what it can do.
And, boy, what can't it do?
I find what works best for me is to simply relax and start my Brain on a slow speed. You really don't need to crank it up to full power to achieve amazing results. Even on the lowest setting you will find sensory input flooding your body and an array of arousing images playing across the inside of your eyelids. Whatever your kink or preference the Brain can provide a tailor made masturbatory fantasy to enhance your solo pleasure. And this is one sex aid that you truly can use anywhere.
Enjoyably, it can keep giving the good stuff for as long as you need. It does not require batteries or power cables. It does not have an array of speed controls and buttons to rival the flight deck of the Starship Enterprise. You won't find yourself fumbling with a sticky thumb to find the next variation on buzzy-zap-thrup. It will take you to the next level with effortless discretion.
Maintenance-wise it just needs a bit of a recharge every 18 hours or so and then you just open it up and away you go!
You do not need to clean it after use. A dirty Brain is not, unlike other sex aids, a bad thing.
Best of all it costs nothing and you already have one.
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
I keep so many secrets, some my own, some belonging to others. I find people confide in me. Maybe I look like I can be trusted, maybe I seem unlikely to judge, maybe I give away too much myself and encourage a trade in confessions. The reason doesn't matter. I am a receptacle of uncommon knowledge, a repository of intrigue.
I won't talk. Ply me with alcohol (oh, go on), seduce me with your silver tongue (oh, please) and do your worst. The key to the confidential filing cabinets is hidden somewhere deep within my vaults. You'll enjoy looking for it but I think you'll find it perpetually elusive.
My lips are sealed.
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
You may be wondering what this fluffy nonsense is doing in the Boudoir. After the somewhat unexpected shit storm that raged due to my Class Wars post, I promised my next effort would be about cute, inoffensive kittens.
The interesting thing about kittens is that the way they happen is quite disturbing, from a human point of view.
The male cat has a penis as barbed as my posts. When mating these spines rake the walls of the female's reproductive system and this is what leads to the distinctive caterwauling one hears when cats are at it in the back yard at night. The pain of the barbs is the trigger for the female to ovulate.
No pain, no kittens.
I have pondered upon this disparity between brutal beginnings and cute, fuzzy results before as I have sat by the water's edge, watching the drakes gang rape a duck. They all pile on, pecking and holding her head under the water, quacking and fighting. Sometimes the females drown.
No near-drowning, no ducklings.
I think there is a definite metaphor for life to be found in these observations. The contrast of harsh and soft is, after all, encapsulated within the title of my blog.
So while I might cause unrest and caterwauling with my barbs, the end result of a fluffier, cuter world where bloggers stop being wanky and just have big eyes and fuzz, is well worth it.
Monday, 26 May 2008
I clasped the three bottles of champagne safely to my bosom and went inside to make some room in the fridge.
It's always nice when your guests bring a gift, and it would have been churlish not to open a bottle at once.
The next morning I woke up with the hazy recollection of peaking too soon.
"I think I overdid the champagne," I said as I wandered into the kitchen.
"You were fabulous on champagne," said my friend. "I shall buy you more."
"Well, fabulous for five minutes," clarified his companion. "Then you fell asleep."
"I burned briefly, but oh so brightly," I said as I rummaged in the drawer for paracetomol. "Much like my party snacks."
Saturday, 24 May 2008
Which tickled me, as that is typical of sex blogger double standards.
Selecting a dozen sex blogs at random, to assess their classiness, I attempted to try to get this "class" issue straight in my own mind. After all, much like the sex bloggers, I tend to write about the various twats and cunts I have encountered. What's the difference?
It would appear that it is ok to write about people you have sex with, often without their knowledge or permission, and give away the most intimate details of their anatomy, preferences, skill, quirks, kinks, passions and private life.
To post pictures of your own orifices stuffed with household items is both interesting and informative. It's sexually empowering or something. Posting pictures of other people's naughty bits proves you are a sex deity and is to be encouraged.
Lurid descriptions of your sweaty body, spunk-spiked hair, soggy undies and gushing bodily fluids just exude class. Boastful write-ups of adultery, glorifying the lover and vilifying the spouse, gilding and glossing until one can barely recognise the tawdry tumble in a Travelodge it truly was, these are more than acceptable, these are award winning.
But to write about what one finds annoying or silly, and why, that lacks class.
So, if I write about what I find silly or annoying but added that by doing so it made me come and then posted a pic of a courgette up my ringpiece, would I gain that unique brand of sex blogger classiness? Or would it still take the edge off the mindless wanking by adding an undesirable element of reality and thought, thereby forever to remain in the virtual gutter, sullying your monitor with its hurtful truths?
Thursday, 22 May 2008
I find it hard to turn my back on anyone. It is a failing of mine. I am loathe to let a friendship go, even when it is obvious to everyone that I am not getting any worthwhile return on my investment. I find myself giving second, third and fourth chances. It takes a long time for me to finally reach the limits of my patience and walk away. (And even if I do I can probably be called back. Especially if they've just got another round in.)
So, this view is reserved for those who are asked to assist me in fastening a necklace around my throat and those who would slip my robe from my shoulders and plant a kiss upon my exposed skin. Those situations aside, it is unlikely you'll see the back of me.
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
So you write a good fuck, and so what?
All that proves is you’re able to type
And you know what goes where
In what order
You are mere repetition and hype.
So you talk a good time, well so what?
All that proves is you know what to say
To make people believe
That you’re normal
You’re a simulation, a cliché.
Saturday, 17 May 2008
While it will be interesting to see the results, I don't expect many surprises. I think the questionnaire findings could be condensed thusly:
Q: Why do people blog?
I mean, yes, there's attention seeking, yes, there's the desire to be discovered, published, yes there are those who write just for fun and those who are touting for cash. But the common element all blogs have is that they are the one place where the author can be an expert in their chosen field, even if only upon themselves. Blogs are where people are free to say "look at me! I know a lot about this! I am a good writer/wife/mother/artist/lover/cook/waiter/person" and have it backed up in comments. Even if what they are posting about is something "bad" they can rely on their readers to tell them it's ok really.
Still, it has made me think about it all. I was musing on the origins of my desire to blog and a far distant memory resurfaced. When I was a very young girl, maybe 4 or 5 years old, I was learning to swim in our village pool. It was a small outdoor pool so we only swam in the summer months. I could manage to stay afloat, but only with the use of my inflatable orange armbands. My mother had been slowly deflating the armbands a little at a time over the course of the summer, until I could swim without them, really, but needed the pyschological comfort of having them on my arms.
Then one day a classmate of mine managed her first width, unaided. She swam! There was a flurry of acivity when she reached the other side of the pool, the grown ups crowding round to tell her how clever she was, heaping praise upon her. There may have been talk of ice cream.
I watched this wonderful reaction, chest deep in water, from the other side and definitely wanted a piece of that. I tore off my armbands and launched myself across the pool, flailing and splashing, until I reached the other side, width completed.
I don't think my motivations have altered that much with time.
Friday, 16 May 2008
Take my fun quiz and find out!
1. Your oldest friend does not get along with some newer friends you have made. Do you:
A) Keep them apart and enjoy quality time with them individually?
B) Invite them all along to a party, ply everyone with alcohol and try to get them to see how much they have in common really?
C) Tell your oldest friend how much your newer friends think they suck and tell your newer friends how much your oldest friend dislikes them and then stand back and enjoy the fight?
2. Your friend has fallen in love and is at the annoying "I'm so happy stage" and regaling you with details of their last romantic encounter. Do you:
A) Listen with genuine pleasure for them?
B) Pretend to listen, smile and nod a lot, but be thinking about what you'll get for dinner really?
C) Listen for a bit and then tell them your lover does all that, only better, and more often and with more celebrity contacts and a faster car?
3. Your friend is having a tough time and is not their usual happy self. Do you:
A) Ask them what's wrong and offer helpful suggestions and comfort?
B) Try to cheer them up and take them out for a drink?
C) Tell them how much tougher your life is and chastise them for not being more supportive during your time of need?
4. You accidentally find yourself reading your friend's diary. In it they mention that you are a nosey twat who can't be trusted in a room alone with an unlocked diary. Do you:
A) Feel bad, close the diary without reading any more and confess, tearfully, to your friend that they were quite right and you are sorry?
B) Feel bad, put the diary back and keep schtum?
C) Read the rest of the diary to see what else they've said, harangue them for their harsh words and, when they express dismay or displeasure at your invading their privacy and betraying their trust, blame them for leaving the diary where you could find it, berating them for having written about you in their diary in the first place?
5. You have concerns about one of your friendships and worry that you are not as close as you once were. Do you:
A) Sit down and talk about any issues you have over a glass of wine and a nice meal?
B) Not worry unduly, relationships all go through their peaks and troughs?
C) Contact your friend anonymously, wearing an ill-fitting disguise and deploying a silly accent, to ascertain what they really think of you?
6. You have been discovered in a phone box, wearing an ill-fitting disguise and deploying a silly accent, leaving anonymous messages on your friend's answerphone. Do you:
A) Feel mortified and offer to make amends?
B) Accept you need help and make a doctor's appointment?
C) Blame your friend for having an answerphone in the first place, throw your false moustache at them and run away?
7. When your friend is successful at something you feel:
B) Pleased and slightly envious
C) Insanely competitive and bitter rivalry?
8. Your lover wants you to ditch your friend because they don't like them. Do you:
A) Tell your lover no way - lovers come and go but a good friend lasts a lifetime?
B) Keep your friend but only see them on your own, so your lover doesn't have to endure their company?
C) Ditch the friend, a fuck is worth a thousand friendships?
9. Your lover wants you to fuck their friend, as part of a threesome, even though you don't really like them. Do you:
A) Decline, politely?
B) Stick cornflakes to your genitals and pretend to have herpes?
C) Fuck the friend, moan about it in private and blog about how great it was in public?
10. A good friend is:
A) Someone you enjoy spending time with and who is always there for you?
B) Someone who shares your interests and makes you feel good about yourself?
C) Hard to find?
How did you do?
Mostly A - You make a great friend. Sympathetic, comforting. I'd be happy to go to the cinema or a walk through the countryside with you any time.
Mostly B - You're a good friend to have, always ready with words of wisdom and a bottle of Bacardi. I'm free next week if you want to come round to watch a DVD?
Mostly C - You are a friendless tit who spends a lot of time alone, and no wonder.
Thursday, 15 May 2008
There is a theme this week, to celebrate three years of HNT. Three years! I've only been doing it three months and I've already run out of body parts to parade. So it's back to bosoms for me, as I am very fond of them and they are easy to take pictures of, unlike my arse.
So, I had a good, long think about three, as a theme. I had some great ideas. I considered a prosthetic third nipple. I considered a fake third leg. I pondered a threesome with two of my favourite bloggers and then posting pictures of it, but then remembered how immensely classy and non tacky I am, so didn't.
Instead I just took off my top and grabbed three roses. I know. I could have been more creative, but time is precious and the sun was shining outside.
I suggest you go check out Osbasso's blog for much better Third Anniversary HNT efforts.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
So my golden skin is somewhat marred by big, red, itchy insect bites that I have to womanfully resist clawing into and dab, delicately, with soothing ointment instead. My decolletage has been viciously targetted this afternoon and I look like I am growing extra nipples.
It is most unfair. My friends and family do not get bitten at all. They claim that flies are only attracted to rotting meat but I am not pleased by this explanation and find I have to push them into the stinging nettles to even things out.
Monday, 12 May 2008
Ah, yes, it's not all spiked heels and black leather with me, you know. I do beach babe too.
So, as I shake the remaining sand out of all my crevices, who wants to fill me in on what I've missed? I bet there's been No Blog Drama At All, which means that I must either be a catalyst/troublesome bint or that the warm weather has made everyone too lethargic to bother with fake IDs, shagging the wrong people, and all that nonsense.
I shall return shortly with a proper post. I am still in holiday mode at the moment and just want to drink beer and fuck about outside, in the sun.
Thursday, 8 May 2008
I will be relaxing and being self indulgent.
I tell you this partly so that you may envy me and imagine all sorts of hedonistic delights that I am enjoying while you are not, and so that you understand why I am not posting or responding to comments for a short while.
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Cross my palm with silver, possibly chocolate, no more buttons thanks, and I will tell your fortune.
My powers are such that I can divine the path you will tread simply from the verbal and visual signals only a mystical mind like mine can detect. Like a map sticking out of your back pocket or a casual mention of a desire to study the indigenous peoples of the rainforest. My spirit guide (I call him Jacky D) will divine that means travel is afoot and will whisper in my ear accordingly, from the other side. I wish he'd speak up, frankly. Or come over to this side.
I do ask for absolute quiet and a degree of patience while I concentrate and communicate with Jacky D, straight from the bottle, until the spirit is strong within me.
If it's going particularly well there may be ectoplasm involved. I am not telling you where.
OK, form an orderly queue and hold out your hands.
Monday, 5 May 2008
I miss you so much that I am going to write, graphically, about what I long to do to your quivering and compliant body.
I am going to reminisce about the feel of your mighty buttocks as I heft them in my hands, kneading them like hairy dough.
I am going to wax lyrical about the swollen purple head of your colossal, throbbing, veiny love prong and how much I miss the way it bobs about, fetchingly, as you dance naked for me on the lawn.
I am going to write pages of masturbatory prose and use the words cunt, wet, hot, fuck, spurt, gasp, slippery and lego.
I miss you, darling. I miss you so much. It's all I can do not to email or call and tell you in private.
But no! Better than that. I will write it all out in a public forum so that the world can see I have done sex, I have, and everyone can have a wank about us and Fleshbot will be mine! I mean ours.
I miss you, honey.
Sunday, 4 May 2008
Hands slick with scented oils, gliding over my skin, unpicking the knots of my tension, erasing the memory of pain.
Oh, how I want a tireless pair (or more) of generous hands upon me right now. But then, I also want a pair of magic trousers that make my arse look great, remove my back and leg pain and sexually stimulate me on demand. Life's full of frustration.
Friday, 2 May 2008
Talented writers can disguise their own voice. They are able to empathise with other people and give a convincing performance, creating characters you can believe in.
Recently I have been contacted by a strange "new" blogger. I put new in quotation marks as the more I conversed with this character, in email and chat, the more familiar their turns of phrase became, the more their prejudices began to show and the more their true voice emerged.
It was, in short, the least convincing disguise since Bugs Bunny put on a pair of false eyelashes and batted them at Elmer Fudd.
I am left to conclude that this is either a symptom of a troubled mind, a manifestation of a split personality, or a laughably transparent attempt to try to get me to dish lots of dirt about my friends, confess to my evil plans to poke fun at completely innocent and hard done by literary sex bloggers and admit that I have strong, unspoken sexual yearnings for the person behind the ill-fitting disguise, aka Mystery Blogger X.
I am guessing it was the latter, given the number of "so, what do your friends think about Mystery Blogger X/you seem to be targetting someone, is it Mystery Blogger X/but what do you really think about Mystery Blogger X?" style questions I was subjected to.
Oh, dear, sweet, mental Mystery Blogger X. Your alter-ego was rubbish. Here are some top tips should you ever (and I hope you won't, as you really are very bad at hiding your inner self) attempt this again:
1. When pretending to be a big Luka fan it helps to say nice things to and about Luka. You should notice when she changes her icon picture in chat, for example, and you should be interested when she posts a saucy pic online. If you were truly keen to get to know Luka you would ask questions about her, how she is, what she likes, rather than about Mystery Blogger X all the time. You twonk.
2. If you are pretending to be a dog owner it is more convincing if you bone up (heh - did you see what I did there?) on breeds of dog beforehand and decide what kind you are supposed to have. You twonk.
3. When quoting me to a friend of mine, try quoting what you, in your fake persona, have been told rather than what you, in your real persona, have been told. That is what gave the game away very early on. You twonk.
4. Try imagining being someone else for just five minutes a day. It's hard, I know, but I believe you could do it if you tried. Imagine how you might think or feel if you were someone other than yourself. Try to live somewhere other than Planet Mystery Blogger X now and then and not only will this improve your creative writing and give you more believable characterisation, it will also help with your interpersonal relationships. You unbelievably mental and self centred twonk.
(Is it just me, or does this kind of thing happen to other people too?)
Thursday, 1 May 2008
I have not as yet listed any fetishes of mine. I am concerned I may not be a proper pervert, given the choice of fetishes available. I have never felt the urge to wee on anyone, I don't find enemas arousing and I don't want to stick a fake tail up my bum and canter around a paddock.
What I do want to do though is put tiny yellow bras on cucumbers, blindfold them and subject them to all sorts of depraved happenings. Whilst wearing a latex glove.
But there isn't a name for it yet. Suggestions?