Monday, 17 August 2009


I have written before on my distaste for sex toys which have, bizarrely, been designed to look like cute animals. It's just not right.
Today it occurred to me that these infantilised, neutered noncocks probably only appeal to those women who also prefer their sanitary products to look like sweets. For some individuals there is obviously a great deal of potential humiliation in having a product in your possession which looks like it might be applied to a personal use. (This is why people knit those strange toilet roll covers, I suppose. How on earth do they cope with the actual toilet itself, I wonder, just sitting there unshrouded, inviting and clearly awaiting a warm arse?)

There are women out there agonising over how to discreetly hide their jam rag when popping to the bathroom while their male counterparts quite happily shout their requirements for more bog paper from the smallest room in the house for all to hear. Men are a lot more comfortable with their bodily functions. They announce their toilet intentions, march off with adequate reading material and proudly warn you not to go back in there for ten minutes.

Sadly this is not always a two way street. I had a neighbour once who hid her sanitary towels in the cupboard uder the sink as her husband couldn't bear to see them in the bathroom. I suggested she start keeping the loo roll in the same place, as if the thought of a bit of red ruining those pristine white bundles of cotton was distressing, how on earth could anyone be expected to cope with the trauma of what happens to to the toilet paper?

I so thankful that I am not afraid of my body, its needs and functions. I am sometimes surprised by it, but we mostly amble along together in a comfortable alliance. I don't mind people knowing I am a woman and therefore have a vagina. It's ok if they see my period paraphernalia in the bathroom. If I want to wriggle around on a piece of vibrating silicon for pleasure I would prefer it not to look like a teddy bear, dolphin, rabbit or kitten. I am not a little girl misusing the contents of the dollhouse, I am a woman and I like a nice phallus.

What's wrong with that?

Monday, 10 August 2009

In the Company of Pooves

Heterosexual men are so difficult to have as friends.

There is always - always - the spectre of sexual involvement hanging over friendships with the opposite sex. While it is fun to flirt and the frisson of possibility can be most pleasurable, it can also become tiring and, in extreme cases, embarrassing, damaging and unsightly.

This is just one of the many reasons I so enjoy my time in the company of pooves. My friends are not of the high camp variety. Well, maybe one or two have their moments. But in general they tend to ride motorcycles, have beards and drink beer. They love good food, good ale and travelling. When they travel to see me I get to enjoy all the things I like about being with men - motorcycles, beards, beer, to name a few - without any sexual undercurrents. Well, none eddying in my direction anyway.

They spoil me rotten, bringing me fine wines, cooking me fine food, entertaining me with excellent conversation and bestowing all the hugs and kisses I could wish for. It's like an endless courtship, these tactile, attentive things that heterosexual men tend to stop doing once they've nobbed you a few times.

I have spent the past few days in the company of my pooves. I am feeling much improved for it.

Monday, 3 August 2009

Sex Blogger Sex Scandal Sex Exclusive

"I was molested by Top International Sex Blogger" reveals Boudoir Babe.

Popular online cynic and sex blog satirist Luka has been molested while drinking coffee with a well known sex blogger, it was revealed last night.

"After months of pestering I finally agreed to meet up for coffee," explained curvaceous Luka, 32. "I thought Starbucks would be suitably public and unerotic. I had consistently made it clear that my intentions were purely platonic.


"At first it all seemed to be going well. He was friendly, courteous, well dressed and fragrant. He paid for the drinks and made charming small talk. Then he offered me a muffin, I said I wasn't sure I could manage anything too big, and the next thing I knew he had his hand on my knee and I dropped my spoon. It was so unexpected."


Luka bravely continued to describe her ordeal. "His hand was large and muscular, with hairy knuckles, and it completely enclosed my feminine kneecap, squeezing and manipulating my smooth, vulnerable girl skin, while he told me he was sure I could find room for a little something. I couldn't believe it. This was happening in full view of the other customers but nobody said a word. I had to empty my Chocca Mocha Latte into his lap and run away."


Luka continued with a warning to others: "I am sure there are some women out there who welcome such sordid shenanigans and would be both pleased and flattered to have such a renowned sex blogger saucing them up in Starbucks but frankly I'm not one of them. I would advise your readers to take care when accepting apparently harmless invitations to share a hot drink. All too often it's just a poorly disguised ruse for a caffeine fuelled lust frenzy."


Her disturbing experience has not discouraged Luka from making online friends, however. "Next week," she says, "I am meeting a very well established knitting blogger for sushi and a full body hot oil massage in the Chiswick Travel Inn."