Looking back on this blog in 2016

2016 ends in a few hours, at least for me.

This is the 1,072th post on this blog. Here’s what I know about you, my readers.

Growth in readership

The stats show that the blog has been growing at a great rate. In my first year, 2012, I doubt if I had any readers at all. Well, I got comments, but my guess is that I only got a couple of 100 views.

I didn’t get a Statistics app until 2014, when I got about 10,000 views. In 2015 I got 32,000, and in 2016 I’ve had about 59,000.

I hope that trend continues: thank you to all readers!

Oh, and if you want to say hello, I’m always pleased, and always reply. Click on Contact us (“us”? It’s just me) and have your say, ask any question, or whatever you feel like!

Who reads this blog?

All I know about my readers is that most of you are in the US, followed by the UK, then Canada, then Australia. That’s not surprising, as it’s an English-language blog. But I also get a lot of hits from Germany and France, followed by the Netherlands.

I’d had readers from almost every country in the world, except for some of the small states in the middle of Africa, who may be short on internet connections and time to worry about middle-class first world people pursuing their pleasures.

And then there’s Greenland. This blog has never once had a single view from Greenland. I vow that in 2017 I will shamelessly pander to Greenland perverts! Siissisoq! Simon Lynge! Handball!

What do my readers like to read?

No matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake that damn stuff off.

The most popular post I’ve ever put up was about toothpasting a girl’s clitoris and waiting to see if she can stand still. (She can’t, and it’s only right that unfair penalties should apply when she moves.)

There were two follow up posts, also popular, here and here.

That was posted way back in 2013, and it’s still going strong. I hope one day to get a cheque from toothpaste companies, for encouraging extra sales.

The most popular post I put up in 2016 is this one, about sexual tension in Raylene’s bedroom.

The next most popular post put up in 2016 is this thought piece about the emotional connections between dom and submissive.

What that tells me is that how-to information is popular, and so is sexual material about different situations I’ve been in, over the years.

The school skirt she bought mail order. But finding a desk that looked school-y, at about the right height: that took serious shopping

The other thing I know is that schoolgirl spanking stories are very popular. I’ve done two series, both times because it was suggested or requested by a woman I was with at the time. The comments make me think that the schoolgirl fantasy is more popular with women readers than with male readers.

Though that’s just a feeling, without enough evidence to make a reliable conclusion.

Men and women readers

I also suspect, without knowing it, that a higher proportion of this blog’s readers are women than men. It’s a truism that women like wordy erotica with a lot of focus on the character’s feelings, while men go for the pictorial. So this blog’s sheer wordiness, and focus on feelings, skews its audience female.

A girl who knows better than that. (Possibly my favourite image, of all I’ve posted.)

I run pictures that mostly seem to me to be hot, but they’re not usually the point of the post. They illustrate the words rather than replacing them. So maybe sex bloggers get more female readers, while sex tumblrs attract more male eyes.

Anyway, I’m grateful to everybody of whatever gender and orientation who has ever dropped by to read me.

I hope your 2017 is far, far better than your 2016!

Some bdsm-related reasons why hitting children is wrong 1

abolishIt’s been surprisingly hard to get rid of “corporal punishment” in schools.

That’s the last time I’m going to use the “corporal punishment” in this series of posts. It’s better to acknowledge openly that we’re talking about the beating of children with lengths of wood or strips of leather,

It’s mostly directed that the child’s hands or buttocks, usually by adults though sometimes other children are delegated to beat other students. Let’s call it “beating of school children”.

Beating children in schools should really have gone out in the 19th century, along with shoving children up chimneys or working them in mines (future posts will go into why that’s so). But the United Kingdom only abolished school beatings in the 1980s, nearly a century later.

Former British colonies and dominions like Canada, New Zealand and Australia, and most of the African Anglosphere also abolished it at about that time. But children and young people are still being beaten at school, quite legally, in quite a lot of Asia, in Islamic countries and, weirdly, in the United States.

Those red-coloured States are the ones where child beating in schools is still legal.

Those red-coloured States are the ones where child beating in schools is still legal.

There’s an interesting correlation between between blue, or Democrat States and red, Republican States. as the map indicates.

The major opponent of abolition has been the political and religious right, particularly the religious right, who fought to keep child beating in every one of those jurisdictions.

In some jurisdictions, like Australia, there was a compromise that banned beatings in publicly owned schools but not in privately owned schools.

So if, as a loving parent, you felt your daughter should have the experience of having her arse beaten by someone you don’t know, unsupervised, possibly a male teacher, then you’d send that child to a school run by someone like the Christian Accelerated Education people. The Catholic schools would make sure the stranger who beat your child would be the same gender, as if that helped.

There’s one oddity about this, because many in the Christian right are fundamentalists, believing in Biblical inerrancy. And yet research on this group has found that most have never actually read the Bible.

“Spare the rod and spoil the child”: what’s that about?

Anyway, there’s that line, “spare the rod and spoil the child”. It gets quoted by people who think it’s God’s word endorsing beating children, and that it was probably something that Solomon said. (By the way, I’m not denying that the Bible says many creepy things about violence against children, including endorsing their sexual enslavement. I’m not arguing that the Bible isn’t nasty.) 

The real story of where that line came from is quite different, and it’s illuminating on why defence of child beating is so often so very passionate.

“Spare the rod and spoil the child” is from a satirical poem by Samuel Butler (a 17th century poet, not the Victorian novelist), called Hudibras. It’s long but very funny.

In the Second Book, the hero’s in jail, since he tried to break up a bear-baiting match. He’s got a nice widow coming to visit him in jail. She’s taken with him, since he’s got money, fame and a certain amount of charm. But he’s disconcerted: he can’t get an erection. 

So the widow gives him some advice. What he needs to get his sexual powers back, she says, is a good whipping. “Why not whipping?” she asks. “What medicine else can cure the fits/ Of lovers when they lose their wits?”

She explains that the god of sexual love, the boy-god Eros, is zestier if there’s a flogging in the air.

“Love’s a boy, by poets styled,/ So spare the rod and spoil the child.”

A good erotic whipping will not only fix his condition; it’ll also stimulate her. She points out that that whipping, done with grace and art, will “raise passion in a woman’s heart.”



Those of us who think that there’s a fair level of unacknowledged sexual interest involved in a lot of the advocacy of child beatings may also think it’s kind of amusing that this favoured phrase isn’t a divine command but a sexually impatient woman’s endorsement of sexual whipping. 

(Future posts in this series will be a tad less literary. But we’ve got to start somewhere.)

A Malmö question: Can men come without touching their cocks?

I’m at a sexology conference in Malmö, in south Sweden. It’s just across the water from Copenhagen, with a rail bridge connecting the two cities, and countries.

images-3Malmö’s not as cool a town as Copenhagen, where I’d move at the drop of a troll hat. I haven’t found a really nice place in the shade looking at water, where some waiter will bring me beers or mineral waters whenever I manage to make eye contact. Lots of places like that in Copenhagen; scarcer in Malmö.

Before I get to my question, here are some observations about Scandinavia, as experienced by me so far. 

1  The people here, and the way of doing things, are friendly and (some people would say “but”) punctual and efficient. 

2  It’s all very civilised. For example, they’ve preserved weekends as times when friends and family can get together and do things, because most people aren’t working at week-ends. Most English-speaking countries were fooled and bullied into giving that away, at great social cost and to no economic benefit. 

3  However, they can’t make a cup of chai tea to save their lives. I asked for a cup in Christiania in Copenhagen, and the girl asked me “what flavour”. By “chai” they mean some sort of powder that you mix with hot water, and that might be vanilla, chocolate, strawberry or whatever. 

4  You should have heard the cheers when England lost to Iceland at soccer the other day. Brexit has not exactly endeared the English to Europeans. 

5  There are no non-pretty girls in Scandinavia. Or if there is one, she must be hiding in Trollhättan. (Trollhättan is a town in Sweden. I think of it as meaning “Behatted Troll”. Obviously, it doesn’t mean that. I think “hättan” has the same meaning as in “Manhattan”.)

Anyway, at the conference there are poster sessions for academics who have something interesting to say, but who don’t have the material or weight for a full session of their own. So you get a room full of posters, with the relevant person standing beside it hoping you’re interested enough to want to talk about their work.  

The orgasm question

One raised a question about male and female orgasm. It’s that some women can come without touching their own genitals, or having someone else do it for them. Just the arousal, the flow of erotic ideas, can bring them to orgasm. But men can’t do that. They can get erect, obviously, without penile touch by themselves or others, but they can’t come without touch. They need friction, ideally slippery friction, to be able to come. 

I thought about that. In bdsm we do a lot of orgasm control. Me, I like female orgasms (I might be a female orgasm fetishist), so as a dom I may deny a submissive girl the right to come without my permission, and sometimes withhold that permission when she really, really wants to let go. However, usually I don’t deny her for long, if we’re in the same bed. Even a few minutes of denial, where she’s fighting back her orgasm while still being vigorously fucked, can get a huge release when I finally tell her to come. 

There are doms who’ve taken that further than I’ve ever felt the urge to. So they might deny the girl any orgasm while she’s being fucked. And then tell her to hold herself in suspense, not erotically relaxing, until he or she gives the word.

Because I like female orgasms, and the more of them the merrier, I’ve never done the kind of training. you need for that However, I’ve met submissive women who can hold on to their peak ready-to-come level for over an hour, and you can command them to come when they’re doing something like watching a movie or doing the dishes. I think of that as interesting rather than peak sexy, but it is interesting.

Master? Tell me a story?

Master? Tell me a story?

The closest I’ve come to that is getting a girl to come by tying her legs apart and her hands behind her back, and telling her a story calculated to appeal to her particular sexual tastes and fantasies. It’s the best possible writer’s audience. 

But she was cheating in a way. That is, she wasn’t being touched externally, but she could get physical stimulation by clenching and unclenching the muscles around her vulva and clitoris.

think that’s how women get to orgasm without apparent touch, though I could be wrong.

But men … We don’t seem to be able to do that, or any useful equivalent. If I have an erection, and I clench the muscles around my penis, I’ll make it wave up and down in a friendly way. But there’s no stimulation for me in it.

And I thought: If anyone can make a man, at least a submissive man, come without his being touched, it’d be a pro-domme. I asked this on Twitter, and got a couple of replies from pro-dommes saying that they’d never seen it done.   

Now I’m throwing the question to the room. Does anybody know of men being made to come without touch?

I’d  count it if the dom/domme used touch to bring the man close to orgasm, followed by orgasm denial, followed by instructing him to stay ready, and more than an hour passing before he was told to come. 

Can anyone help? (I mean, with reports of having that done to them, or doing it to some guy.)

E[lust] 83: One-stop shop

Elust #83

Elust 83 Header Holden and Camille
Photo courtesy of Holden and Camille

Welcome to Elust #83 

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #84 Start with the rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to theRSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

London Crows and London Kisses

I am Her. She is Me.

You Say You Want to Cook for Me


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Unusual Liaison

Community. Respect. Friendship. Fucking.

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Dirty Little Secrets

A male dom, a straight girl and a bi girl wait for Lynette

A male dom, a straight girl and a bi girl wait for Lynette 2

A male dom, a straight girl and a bi girl stop waiting for Lynette


You Know

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

My Bed
Secular Submission
My therapy
from “hard limit” to “want”
We Measure the Nostalgia
The Cure and The Cause


Smut in the 6ix – Porn Conference & Gala

Erotic Fiction

Typing Errors
La Belle Dame
Sex and chocolate
The Imprisoned of HIM-HER-THEM
The Gift
Becca’s Story
Rope and Fixtures
As salty as his cum…
Dominating the Doctor

Erotic Non-Fiction

Teen Sex in Woolly Tights with 60s Beat Music
Dear Sadist: Your Cruelty Is Your Love
A male dom, the straight girl and the bi girl
Owned, Leashed, & Beaten
Jan 2015 Owned & Collared by Mistress Claire
Rinse The Days Filth Away
Power On
Keeping tally

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Formative Kink Epic Fail: “Buck Rogers”

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

If it was easy anyone could do it
What’s a service submissive?
Prescient Words

Writing About Writing

What if aspirational meant something else?


ELust Site Badge

By request: A Keith Emerson (with ELP) introductory guide

Where to start: an ELP New Listener’s Guide

1  Don’t start here

The music is this awful. Not entirely their fault. Atlantic Records insisted on the title and the photo. But the music is just awful.

The music is was bad as its cover. Not entirely their fault. Atlantic Records insisted on the title and the photo. But the music is just awful.

Let’s begin with where not to start. Don’t start with Works 1 or Works 2. There’s some good stuff there but it’s slim pickings.

Forget Love Beach; it’s as awful as its cover suggests. They were forced to record it by the record company at the end of a tour. They had nothing, and they were exhausted.

You could listen to Black Moon some time, because it’s got three good tracks on it. But it’s far from essential.

It really doesn’t sound like ELP, and nothing I’ve said about why they’re good applies to it. It’s pop music because their record company needed a hit. They dutifully released two singles, neither of which were hits. For addicts only.

Their final studio album, In the Hot Seat, competes with Love Beach for worst ELP abomination. (Though the Dylan cover version, “The Man in the Long, Black Coat”, is a cracker.)

2  Songs to start with, to see if you like the taste

i   “Lucky Man”, from the Emerson, Lake & Palmer album. Famous for including the first rock Moog solo, courtesy of Emerson, on record. (Tagged on at the end because Emerson was in the pub while Lake turned a simple ballad he’d written as a kid into something with real studio heft.) It’s still their most popular song. 

ii   “From the Beginning”, from Trilogy. Another pretty Greg Lake song, this time about fucking up relationships. This time, Emerson’s participation is more integrated into the song.

This made artist HR Giger a superstar, and probably helped him get the gig for designing "Alien". The title refers to fellatio, and so does a detail in the artwork, only half airbrushed away from the women's neck

This made artist HR Giger a superstar, and probably helped him get the gig for designing “Alien”. The album title refers to fellatio, and so does a detail in the artwork, only half airbrushed away from the women’s neck

iii  Toccata, from Brain Salad Surgery. Now we’re jumping into the deep end. This is Emerson’s arrangement of the fourth movement of Argentinian composer Alberto Ginastera’s Piano Concerto No 1. It aint that pretty at all.

After ELP had recorded their version, they went, nervous as hell, to Ginastera’s place in France and played it to him. Like Aaron Copeland, who loved ELP’s arrangement of Hoe-Down and Fanfare for the Common Man, he…

Well, Ginastera listened to their version, then threw his arms up and said it was “terrible”. Emerson was crest-fallen. Then Ginastera explained he meant “terrible” in French, as in “amazing, fantastic, formidable”, and so on. It is, indeed, terrific.

If unusual time signatures are your thing, this is orgasm central. It switches times at the turn of a dime and the drop of a hat. Even if the word “time signatures” means nothing to you, it’s exciting as hell. Fuck, it’s fast. 

iv  The Barbarian, from Emerson, Lake & Palmer. Basically an arrangement of Bartok’s Allegro Barbare, this is much simpler than Toccata. But it keeps the Bartok spikiness, the European folksong origin, and then it just charges forward. I believe the Foo Fighters drummer once said he spend much of his adolescence listening to this, over and over. It always cheers me up, every time.

v  The Endless Enigma, from Trilogy. Yeah, it’s prog, so its nearly 11 minutes long, divided into two parts, with a middle section called Fugue. But it’s seriously good instrumental work between the three of them, and a strong vocal from Lake. It has lyrics that sound ok, line by line, and don’t make any sense at all. But at that stage Lake’s voice could sell anything. Anyway, it’s the music that counts. 

vi  Take a Pebble, from Emerson, Lake and Palmer. This would have been a higher recommendation, but it’s in a similar mood to the first two numbers. It’s Lake’s composition, but the long piano solo by Emerson, and his in-fills, are amazing. So are the opening notes, which Emerson got by taking the back off a piano and plucking the strings like a harp. I also recommend the expanded version on Welcome Back

vii  Tarkus, from Tarkus. Actually, I think this is their best piece, and maybe the most high-energy twenty-odd minutes of music by anyone. It’s just not where I’d start someone. Again, the version on Welcome Back is also highly recommended. 

viii  Jerusalem, from Brain Salad Surgery. It’s that song. They play it, Lake sings it. The BBC banned it, for some reason. It’s pomp rock at its finest. It’s brilliant. 

The inside image on the Brain Salad Surgery cover. Same model: Giger's wife.

The inside image on the Brain Salad Surgery cover. Same model: Giger’s partner, the late Li Tobler.

ix   Karn Evil 9, Parts 1, 2 and 3. I have a copy of Brain Salad Surgery on vinyl. Karn Evil 9  starts on side 1. You have to turn the record over halfway through Part 1, and the rest of it takes up the whole of side 2.

Contains the “Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends…” line. 

I’m also fond of: 

“Not content with that, With our hands behind our back, We pull Jesus from a hat: Get into that! Get into that!” They dropped those lines from most performances after they got Big in America. 

The music of Part 1 is pretty much straight-ahead rock, only faster. But it’s great. Come inside! Part 2 is instrumental, with high-speed silly noises from Emerson (that’s praise), and synthesised percussion from Carl Palmer. Part 3 is science fiction: a battle between two space fleets is won when one side destroys the other, and is in turn destroyed by their unimpressed ship’s computers. Lots of synthesiser and Moog, some great guitar and singing from Lake. And silly lyrics. 

x   The Great Gates of Kiev. 

That’s the last section of their version of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. It’s fast, it’s big and it’s grand. Death is not life, by the way, As Any Fule Kno. But when Lake sings the opposite, you can find yourself momentarily convinced. 

3  Albums

If I were going to own just one ELP album, it would be that live triple, Welcome Back My Friends. It’s only a double in CD form, or a few hundred megabytes in digital form. It has storming live versions of most of the above.

Its full title, by the way, is Welcome Back My Friends to the Show that Never Ends; Ladies and Gentlemen, Emerson, Lake and Palmer. I believe it’s still the longest record title ever. They did it as a typesetter’s joke. They knew it’d get into the Top 10, and they also knew that there was no way of fitting that title into the little grids that the music press used to list the charting albums.  

After that I’d buy Tarkus, then the first album (called Emerson, Lake & Palmer), then Brain Salad Surgery, then Trilogy, then Pictures at an Exhibition

Amazing sex fun fact!

Lightly furred redhead, interested in the "Variation" aspect of that weird shit I was listening to.

Lightly furred redhead, interested in the “Variation” aspect of that weird shit on the audio. And demonstrating Emerson’s Famous Mullet haircut. Not the actual girl in the anecdote left of this photo, though she was a redhead too.

I lost my virginity to Pictures at an Exhibition. I doubt if there’s many people can say that, since ELP’s music, for all its merits, was notoriously not sexy. I was giving it a listen when a girl who’d been teaching me how to kiss dropped by. I made her a cup of tea; she brought out some hash.

I started taking her clothes off. She didn’t stop me. “Oh,” I thought. “Oh, oh, I see.”

“Promenade”, indeed. Though you can really go at it during the “Blues Variation” interlude. I could make a “Great Gates of Kiev” joke, but that’d be ungentlemanly, also completely untrue.

I’d have put something else on if I’d known she was coming. But once she’d arrived I was distracted.

Anyway, you know who you are. I still think you’re wonderful. Also, thank you! 

Keith Emerson black armband

Keith Emerson shot himself. Bugger. 

There are some things I’ve only got hindsight on. But I know that if I’d been watching at the time, I’d have got it wrong. When Led Zeppelin broke up, I’d have expected a constant flow of great new music from Jimmy Page, and Plant and Jones to fade into obscurity.

But instead we got Plant casually stepping over the self-parody trap as if it were a puddle, and Jones working with brilliant musicians including Robert Fripp to make vital if not exactly best-selling new music. While Page prepared yet another re-mastered re-release of the Led Zepp catalogue.

Palmer, Lake & Emerson, in this photo. They were pretty lads in their day, but they never really got the female fans.

Palmer, Lake & Emerson, in this photo. They were pretty lads in their day, but they never really got the female fans.

Another thing I’d have expected is that together or apart, the members of Emerson, Lake and Palmer would be making brilliant new music, lots of it, to the present day. Or till about a week ago, when Keith Emerson shot himself. Given the talent that was packed into that trio, many fans, including me, were surprised there wasn’t more music.

Still, the power and passion and aggression of the first five ELP albums is unique. There’s nothing like it in rock, prog rock, or classical. Or heavy metal, though speed metal is probably the genre that comes closest to one of the things ELP were doing. Except that ELP were doing everything else, from classical to jazz, to ambient, to rag-time and boogie-woogie, to blues and hard rock, and sensitive singer-songwriter ballads, you name it, as well. 

Emerson riding and stabbing a Hammond organ, Osaka, 1972. He could get notes from doing that, using feedback. And knives.

Emerson riding and stabbing a Hammond organ, Osaka, 1972. He could get notes from doing that, using feedback. And knives. He got the knife from Lemmy, who was Emo’s roadie and not yet “Lemmy of Moorhead”. Lemmy died this year, too.

I also liked the massive critical hate for ELP. With the advent of punk, critics managed to persuade the world that ELP were ridiculous musos doing triple live albums, putting out pieces of music more than half an hour long and broken up into sections. All of which was true, except it wasn’t ridiculous. They had guts, and they took risks no band would take today. Carl Palmer said they were “a sabre-rattling band”, and he was right. 

One of the reasons I enjoyed the critical contempt for a band I only discovered after it had wound up was that it gave me a shameful secret that wasn’t about bdsm. I could say, “I’m into bdsm! I get off on telling women what to do and whipping them!” And that still wouldn’t have the shock effect in polite society as, “ELP are, seriously, up there with Led Zep! One of the five best bands that ever played!”

Emerson conducting his own music in the 2010s. Not sure which orchestra.

Emerson conducting his own music in the 2010s. Its not often you see a shot of Emo near a flat surface that doesn’t have a drink on it. I’m not sure which orchestra that is.

Although Emerson was 71, he still owed the world his Piano Concerto No 2. I’ve heard he had a worsening of his carpal tunnel problem and couldn’t play, and that’s why he shot himself. I wished he’d stayed. He could have composed and got someone else to play it. He was very kind and encouraging to young musicians like Rachel Flowers, and I wish he’d composed and let them play. 

I heard that Emerson and Lake wrote some music together when they were preparing to go out on the Manticore Tour in 2010. I hope Greg Lake finishes that and shapes it into songs for one final album. But – though I also admire Lake – I’m not holding my breath. 

But I’m too grateful for what Emerson left us to be complaining. Anyway, Keith Emerson is dead. Bugger.



So if ELP are such an eclectic band, you say, they must have done a song about bdsm while they were rambling about from genre to genre. Why yes, I reply, they did: “So Far to Fall”, in 1975.

Sample lyric: 

“Ooh she had me, she had me running rings around the floor.
She had me nailed to a door, she had me crying out,
she had me crying out for more, more, more, more, more, more, more.
She bad me, she tied me up in knots like a piece of a string,
she did a thing to my thing, she did a thing to my thing
like it’s never been done before.”



Mouth to mouth 11: Ropes for Qing?

qing lovingQing made a little noise of satisfaction, and we started to move together. After a while we sped up, and I found that I’d hit an obstruction inside her. It hurt. I thought that maybe I’d hit her spine, since she really was a slender girl and there didn’t seem much room inside her for my cock to go.

But it’d been her cervix. I changed my angle slightly and it didn’t happen again. Qing hadn’t noticed, as far as I could tell.

Her face was contorted in an extreme version of her pleasured expression, and she was making a sound I didn’t understand. (She was saying “cao wo”, meaning “fuck me”, but I didn’t know that till much later.)

Other things were clear enough without language, though, and I let her have my weight for a few minutes while I reached under her to grab her ass. I pulled her cheeks apart, and squeezed her hard, hoping to cause mild pain while she was close to coming.

qing loving 2In a minute or two, Qing opened her legs wide and put her feet on my arse. I sped up, hoping she’d come before I did, and put my right forefinger into her ass, up to the first knuckle. That did it: Qing stopped muttering cap wo. She screamed it, as if she was in a panic.

She wrapped her arms around me, so she was clinging like an octopus on eccy. She had three more orgasms, each a little calmer than the one before. I let myself come in her for the last one.

 Qing sank back, arms and legs flat on the bed. I rolled off her, to lie on my side with my left leg over her. She said, “Well. You’re a dark horse. I didn’t think you even liked me.”

“Oh, I liked you. I just thought that guy was your boyfriend.”

“So does he, half the time. But he’s just a dickhead.”


qing asleepQing was falling asleep. I guessed I’d do the same, so I pulled some of the duvet away from the wall.

I found ties on the side of the bed, made of soft, furry rope. I could see knots on the other side of the bed, now that I was looking for them. 

Four ties, near the bed corners. You could use that to hold someone spread-eagled and immobile.

I said “Qing? These ties … Is this something you’re into?”

But I was too late. She was asleep. 

Sex in the South Seas 9

cupped breastsSenemelia’s teak-dark breasts, her belly and her arms seemed to shine in the halflight. And her eyes. I crossed to stand behind her, to take her hands away and cup her breasts in mine. Senemelia said, “Ahhhhh,” and squirmed back towards me, getting her ass against my cock. 

So that was the right thing to do. Tongue-kissing isn’t a universal practise, but maybe stroking her breasts and jamming her arse with a hard-on is a good cross-cultural practise. Senemelia liked it, anyway. Maybe I was over-generalising from a small sample.

Anyway, Senemelia wasn’t in my room to discuss comparative sexual customs.

I pinched her nipples very slightly, and she turned her head to smile back at me because I was doing something weird, but tried to squirm away. So that wasn’t a Senemelia sexual custom either. 

It would have been even better before the missionaries arrived.

It would have been even better before the missionaries arrived.

So I stuck to things that had already been well received, holding her breasts tight but painlessly,  pressing forward so my cock made known its feelings about her bum. Senemelia pressed back, and rotated her ass against me like a traditional dancer, while I ran my hands down her belly to the catch on that spangled skirt. I fumbled: there was oil on my hands, and on my shirt. Senemelia shone because she’d covered her whole body with oil.

I licked a spot on her shoulder, just below her neck. Coconut oil, I supposed. It tasted mainly of sweaty girl, with faint traces of coconut and something like chili. But Senemelia sighed and sucked her stomach in to help me undo the catch on the skirt. In a second or two it dropped to the floor. 

The knickers were faded and a little worn at the waistband. She hadn’t expected to be taking them off in company. I pushed them down to her thighs. And, because no one could possibly resist Senemelia’s perfect bubble butt, I smacked her arse. “Bed,” I said. 

Back to work: and Freudian fingers on the Iphone

Holidays are over. I’ve got projects, including at least one where I have no idea how to do what I’ve contracted to. But they wanted me, so that’s that. 

I’ll learn how to do the job, and I’ll get a nice transfer of funds, with love, from them to me. (Cue mouth organ break.) 

Anyway, here’s what happened yesterday. A pretty girl I’d been flirting with, months ago, sent me this:

bag flirt















 (It’s just an internet image, which is why I’m prepared to reproduce it here.) Anyway, we’d called it off, but ended on friendly terms, so I thought that was an encouraging sign: she missed me and wanted to pick up where we left off. I felt very cheery. She’d expressed some interest in the leather, semi-flexible instruments, so I sent her this:

Have case, will travel.

“Have case, will travel.”










Anyway, she sent me another message, which went, approximately, “WTF? Nice to hear from you, but why you just text me? & why that?” 

So I realised she’d been texting some other guy, and she’d accidentally sent the picture to me. She’s the sort of girl who’d be horrified to realise she’d done that, so I decided not to embarrass her by explaining. (She doesn’t read this blog). I just apologised. Rush of blood to the head, or something, I said. So there you are.