Thursday, 20 December 2012

Masturbation at 30.

So I'm meant to be continuing on the Mr Sporty saga but seeing as very few people probably read this blog right now I don't think anyone will mind waiting. 

I should be marketing the bejesus out of this thing but I'm still kind of slowly plodding along and I'm finding it hard to get everything done in the day even when I have oodles of time to spare.

So I fancied talking about masturbation today instead.

Masturbation...what a mouthful - what other words can we find for it and with regards to a woman?

Google will provide you with many such as:

flickin' the bean
a night in with the girls
clam bake for one
tickling the taco
petting the pussy
flit your clit

And trust me there are many more I just enjoyed these ones in particular.

Unlike some girls who discovered the joys of this fun activity by accident (shower head anyone?!) I read about it in detail at the age of fourteen when I stole one of my father's sex books How to Drive Your Man Wild in Bed by Graham Masterton and Liz Coldwell. 

I remember locking my door and lying on my cabin bed to read the whole book - and boy was it insightful. It suggested ideas to me that I had never before imagined and provided me with lessons on what definitely NOT to do (science test tubes and champagne bottles are a bad idea ladies...think about it).

I felt rather guilty exploring myself afterwards. I vaguely recall using a makeup mirror to see down there and the first time half-way through I just felt too shameful and stopped. What if someone knocked on the door?!

Slowly I came round to the idea and I'll admit even took advantage of my nearby flute stand to aid me in the process! I remember asking my girlfriends about whether they did it one New Year and everyone just looked at me blankly, some mortified and all were quick to say 'no.'

Only when more booze had been drunk did a few approach me secretly and begrudgingly admit their secrets. Why were we all so ashamed?

Compared to boys who will happily declare it and boast, girls tend to be more shy and coy about it. Why is this? (some research needs to be done here I think...)

So anyway, throughout my life masturbation has been okay and at times it has served a purpose when I've been feeling frustrated but I have shied away from it somewhat. The only time I ever bought a vibrator was when I was in a serious relationship and we wanted to spice things up. Now the thing lies dormant and decaying in an old suitcase under heaps of clothes. It was one of those rampant bunny ones except now the rotary mechanism has given up the ghost. I should seriously consider investing in a new one.

But it is funny...vibrators. I remember my friend who had TONS of them taking to hiding them in the boot of her car for fear her parents would find them, only to one day absent minded-ly give her father the keys to go fetch something out of it.

Did he see ALL of them? She panicked 
Good God, I hope not! Who knows what he would think!

And I remember my mother stumbling across my sister's vibrator in the garage as we sorted things out for a car boot sale.

'Could we sell this?' she asked.

I looked at her wide-eyed in disbelief.


'Yes but ----- said she's never used it.'



'She was lying.'


'No, we cannot sell it at the car boot fair.'

You have to laugh. But these days I'm more happy to talk about the topic and maybe it is because I am single, maybe it is because I'm in my sexual prime or maybe it is because I'm more relaxed and content with my body but I'm definitely doing it more.

The blog Sexual Feelings provides great material for the job too and so handy with smart phones. When I have a spare ten minutes or so and I have nothing better to do - why not? I might not be getting all the sex I desire but I can certainly still have the orgasms I want.

So at 30, I'd say I've had a new lease of life when it comes to flickin' the clit. I wonder if I am alone in this process or if there are other women out there experiencing similar things? Hey, I might go away and find out for you and come back with a follow up....

(Though feel free to leave comments and help me out too!)

Tuesday, 18 December 2012

So...I was saying about Self-Respect...

...and more so self-discipline...

It isn't easy to put the theory into practise! I have the right mentality but never underestimate LUST (or I prefer the term: DESIRE).* 

This is why it was decreed a cardinal is a powerful force to be reckoned with.

So just to give you a little update on my ongoing love soap opera...

As you know, I called things off with Mr Sporty. I went to Madrid and I didn't throw myself into the arms of my Spanish friend, namely because I didn't think it was a good idea nor did I want to, but I could have been selfish and reckless and followed the manta:

'the best way to get over someone is to get under some one.'

But I'm beyond this way of thinking these days and I don't necessarily agree with it. I just slowly accepted that I was back to being Miss Solo again. It isn't the end of the world.

Then came the night at the creperia when I had my first slip up. I embraced Mr Sporty to say goodbye, after a group of us had gone there to watch some live music, and there was some awkward Spanish-style-two-kisses-on-the-cheek malarky and then I wandered down the hill drunk lamenting to the universe, arms dramatically held aloft and doing what I often do when drunk and impetuous (ah who gives a f&ck!)....texting.

'You know it takes some effort to stop myself from wanting you sometimes...'

Followed by

'And I'll regret sending that message in ten minutes...'

Eek! Not ideal behaviour whatsoever. I then crawled into bed and promptly passed out.

I woke up to his reply in the morning:

'Had to draw back earlier too...'

Okay...a little stroke to the ego and not so bad. I didn't beat myself up and I just left it. I'm only human, I'm allowed some hiccups.

But then the Christmas party came on Friday... (to be continued)

* Lust / Desire plays a big role in this story and requires further analysis at some point.

Monday, 10 December 2012

Some Great Sex Memories

I was on a train for seven and a half hours...what's a girl to do in that time but daydream? :)

I was 21 and at University. He was dark, intense and delicious with deep chocolate brown eyes. I was mildly obsessed and had foolishly left my three year boyfriend to be with him. I don't remember all the details but we'd been smoking weed and got rather frisky as a result. I remember him doing me doggy style; it was a pleasing view. Then he withdrew and came all over my back. We looked at each other and there was a pause and then we burst into hysterics for no real reason besides the ludicrousness of all his wet cum everywhere and me, lying helplessly waiting for him to clean it up.

We're good friends now. Sometimes we remember this together. Clearly it resonates in both of us as an image. Him: awkwardly mopping from my viewpoint, and me: ridiculously messy and comically vulnerable.


Another dark, intense creature. I was on the verge of falling in love (notice a repeated pattern here?!) but he was dangerous and it was never going to end well. When he embraced me the coarse fibres of his beard tore at my face. I always came away looking mauled and sore. Red raw cheeks like I had acne. It felt very animalistic. He used to press down on my abdomen as he fucked me which seemed to increase the pleasure. When he came his breathing would become short and raspy, like he was being restricted of air. It really turned me on. This one time everything he did felt so perfect that afterwards my legs spasmed incontrollably and I almost wept over the intensity that shook my body. I've never experienced a thing quite like it. Maybe I felt this way because I knew it was never going to last...


He was a sensual lover. Caresses and strokes, doing all that he could to please me, complimenting my hips and delicate piano hands (not that I ever fulfilled that ambition). He never took the chance to go down on me but I remember him kissing my inner thighs very gently and sweetly after sex like a form of 'thank you' and it totally endeared me to him. I told him we had a great chemistry not to be overlooked. He said that I brought out this side in him. One time we kissed and for some minutes our lips traced each others carefully and repeatedly - just the lips, no tongue, lingering...

I still think about it now. I hope I don't forget that.


Annoyingly I don't remember a specific time anymore from my long-term ex. There are moments but they are vague - most blur into one another. I remember fucking in a field whilst the jack-russel looked on and a herd of cows wandered over to observe and interrupt. I remember straddling him in the back of some stranger's pick-up truck at the Full Moon party in Thailand, metres from the beach or him tipping my head back, off the bed, to force me to cum harder. Or the intensity I felt for him on MDMA at a rave and how I had to find him and be with him -nothing else mattered. Or laughing as he tried to fuck me on his rowing machine rather unsuccessfully. The videos...the photos, all the ways we explored.

Do you have any fond sex memories that stick out? I have some negative ones too...maybe for another post!

Tuesday, 4 December 2012

Emotional v Rational: Self-Respect

One of the reasons I began this blog was because I wanted to talk and explore at times the topic of self-respect. In the past, this element was highly lacking in much of the way I conducted myself in and out of my relationships, although I didn't realise it. I learnt the hard way through experience. 

Today when I look around and listen to other women's stories, I often find I'm not the only one with this problem. As I continue to write this blog, I hope to explore the topic in great depth but today it we'll just touch upon it a little.

RS: So you - we - should be really proud of ourselves.

ES: Hmm...Nope, I feel glum...Glum, Glum, GLUM!

RS: Well, you were never a great one at letting go...but you've done it before, you can do it again.

ES: Yeah but it sucks. He was the closest thing to perfect in ages.

RS: I know, I know and whilst you can't deny or suppress these sad feelings, you know they will play out of your system eventually. Just keep them behind closed doors as much as possible, ok? Don't keep sharing them with any one who's around to listen -that's also a big flaw of yours.

ES: Yeah I know...

RS: Listen. You did the right thing by calling it off with Mr Sporty and taking a step back. If you'd carried on - sure, you would have been happier for a little while but the doubt would have kept nagging. You would have been living in a dream world and the longer you'd stayed in it, the harder the fall would have been later. Not only did you protect yourself but you did the most positive thing you could have done because you gave him space to work out how he feels in his own time without pressure or coercion. 

ES: I suppose...

RS: No, I am right. If he comes back to you now then it is because he has decided he wants you - not simply because he's going through the obligatory functions and playing out the role expected, all the while thinking about how to break it to you gently. 

ES: I really don't think he's going to come back though...

RS: Well then...he wasn't right for you and never was. I know it hurts but it is best to know this now. And anyway, if he doesn't come back? Well, you've handled it really well and he's still being cool with you so you've saved face and you might still have a great friendship. Plus he does fancy you. You know he does - there is no disputing that. It is just that he's very settled in his ways. He probably still wants you even now but he can't and that's just tough luck I'm afraid. He can't have his cake and eat it. If you're going to get glum behind closed doors...let him get sexually frustrated. 

ES: I guess I can take some comfort in that.

RS: Do, but then move on.

ES: I will try my hardest. Your logic helps to soothe the blow...but sometimes I let it all build up and I get sad again - you know those times - when you're alone or walking -times when you get stuck inside your head. Plus I can't help it. I do wait to see what will happen next.

RS: I know, but just keep those thoughts inside and take pleasure in the here and now. Go walk by the sea if you have to. As for waiting to see what happens - sure, watch if you can't help it, but also start looking at other avenues. Don't become obsessional. Don't chase after more grief.

ES: When you put it that way it does sound like solid advice.

RS: It is. You deserve to be treated well and adored and you deserve to be happy - so do all you can to make that your obsession if necessary.

ES: Thanks...

RS: And I'll always be here to listen and talk it though.

Monday, 3 December 2012

Kinky Tikki: Down the Rabbit Hole Part 2

SFF was on a mission. A mission to get someone to tie me up. I tried to tell him that watching was more than enough for me, but he wasn’t having any of it. He seemed to consider it part of his hosting duties to get me some. I figured the only way out of the belly of the beast was by going through the other end, so I swallowed my nerves and accepted the situation. K was the ultimate target, SFF explained, but he was a busy man with many girls to tie up. But he, SFF, would not let me down.

In the midst of the sexual silliness, the second-in-command of the bar – we’ll call him Speccy – came over and had a bit of a flirt with me. He called me 'baby' and I only slightly objected because I figured I’d cut him some slack due to the language barrier. He was cute, not as cute as K and a bit younger, but cute all the same. He introduced himself saying: 'My name is Speccy and I am very small.' 
I still don’t know what part or parts of himself he was referring to.  We chatted, he tried to get me to take some tequila shots, I refused, he wandered away. All drinks in this bar were free, all night (wow!), once you were inside, but I wanted to stay sober enough to a) make clever decisions and b) remember making them.

A little while later SFF announced that Speccy would tie me, and I should take off my bra. I went to the toilet, looked at my reflection in the mirror and said to myself 'Well… goodbye comfort zone.' then took a deep breath and returned to the club. SFF told me that he had passed on my preference to keep my pants on, and also asked Speccy to whip me a bit. There was a glint in his eye. Thanks a lot, SFF. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a topless onstage whipping, I suppose.

Speccy was Japanesely formal in his politeness at the beginning. He requested that I take off my top, bowed to me, kneeling face-to-face on the stage, then positioned me with my back to him, facing the audience. His first touch was soft, gentle, a sensuous trailing of fingers down my naked shoulders. 'Relax,' he breathed in my ear. His hands were sure, subtle, across my shoulders and down my arms. I sank into the sensation of it, closing my eyes. I felt the brush of the rope against my back, easing down my spine, and then dragged slowly across my chest, the fibres of the hemp scuffing lightly against my skin. He let the rope uncoil in front of me, let it catch on my nipples, let me feel every inch of it, pulled it back across me towards himself. And he was there, warm and present behind me, I was nestled between his knees, his arms about me, his breath in my ear. He took my arms and folded them behind my back, and then he began to tie me. 

I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened or when; I slipped into a half-hypnotised, meditative state where I was only very dimly aware of anything other than him and the rope. I was pulled back into him, my head against his shoulder, our cheeks pressed together, our breath mingling, the ropes slowly binding me, squeezing me tightly, securely, helpless but so relaxed. Rope time is special – it seems like eternity, but it’s always over too soon. I remember blended fragments: the soft growls in his throat as he bound me tighter, pulling me into him, the sparks of sensation as he dragged the rope across my nipples, the press of his body against mine, his hand in my hair, squeezing, pulling my head back, enjoying my vulnerability. It was sexy as hell. 

I responded with all of myself, dropping into rope space, leaning into him, utterly relinquishing control, except for once succumbing to the desire to run my hands, bound at the wrists, across the part that was pressing into me, as he pulled me backwards. Then my weight was lifted as he tied the ropes into a ring in the ceiling. I wriggled into him as he pulled me by the hips and murmered 'Doggy style please,' before tying me so that my knees were still on the floor but most of my weight was taken by the ropes, and I was face forward, parallel to the floor, hands bound behind my back, ready for phase two.
Now, I’d seen the whips he had laid out on the stage, and they weren’t friendly – he’d chosen a couple of large, heavy, club-ended single tail whips of braided leather. I assumed that he’d warm into it though, and I trusted that he knew what he was doing and that SFF was looking on in case anything got too edgy.

[Educational aside: when I say 'warm into it', I’m referring to the common practice with impact play, or 'stuff where you get hit by stuff for fun', to start with lighter impact, and build into the stronger, heavier stuff. This serves the triple purposes of letting the submissive acclimatise, avoiding peaking too early (I mean, when you’re at a theme park, you go on the smaller rides first, so you can enjoy their effect, and save the biggest for last, because to do it the other way round makes the rest of the day a bit of an anticlimax, right?), and physiologically building up a cushion of swelling, which protects your flesh from being damaged too deeply as you progress to the heavier stuff. Not everyone does this, but I’d say it’s generally considered to be sensible.]

Well, he patted me on the bum, and I relaxed, thinking he was going to spank me a bit, but then the next thing I knew he’d taken a few steps back, and thrown a first thud of the whip. Oh wow, that hurt. He was hitting me on the part between my hips and my lower back, a part less cushioned by fat, and I was excruciatingly aware of it. I tried to wriggle into a slightly different position, so he’d hit me on a softer part, but it was impossible, I was trussed up like a chicken. He hit me again, again, not quickly, lazily, with a smile on his face, and every blow felt like it was sinking into my bones. I cried out. I NEVER cry out, at least not loudly and involuntarily. Now I was making noises I didn’t know I could make. It was almost too much, I wasn’t sure I could take it anymore. 

I realised we hadn’t agreed a safeword (I’m going to assume that, thanks to that god-awful tome which I refuse to name, most of you know what a safeword is). Stupid. A couple more blows landed and I was really reaching the end of my tether, convulsing and yelling into the floor. I looked back at him in desperation, wanting to say something, but still not wanting to humiliate him by shouting 'stop' onstage. He must have seen the look in my eye because he stopped. He came over, stroked my trembling buttocks, and brought a magic wand into the equation, first rubbing it against me, then strapping it in place with more ropes. This was a nice thought, but I’m more specific in my orgasmic needs than some, and the wand just wasn’t placed quite right, so actually it was vaguely annoying. And then he stepped back again, and picked up the whip... 

Having had a chance to breathe, I thought I could take it for a while longer. The endorphins were no doubt flowing. Soon I was back into hurt animal mode, knowing nothing but the pain, not caring what noise I made. Letting the thud of the whip reverberate through me and explode out of my lungs somehow reduced the agony. He was a little gentler this time, I think, but not much. Occasionally he whipped the magic wand instead, making it jerk against me. I don’t know how long I would have stood out, but suddenly it was over and they were untying me. K was onstage helping Speccy to get me down. In fact, it was all a little perfunctory and rushed. Something was up. SFF wandered over to me, leaned in close with a little smile, and said 

'Ze Yakuza ‘ave just told us zat ze Police are ‘ere, so we must take you down now.' 

Oh god. So there I was, bound up onstage, waiting for the police to come in. That’s a vulnerable moment. High on endorphins, I decided there was nothing to be done – struggling would only make it more difficult to untie me, and make me look like an idiot to boot. Pride gets me through – not to mention into – a lot of situations. So I waited patiently for Speccy to untie me, and smiled at the ridiculousness of my life. I fully expected them to rush in and deport me at any moment. But low and behold, my luck held, the police didn’t come in, and soon I was free and clothed, and being thanked by Speccy for the experience. 

'You are really sexy. That was great. You are a sexy dynamite blonde. Take my card. Send me your contact.'

And so the night wound down. I went to sit, floating and grinning, on the edge of the stage, get checked over and grounded by SFF and his lady, and make conversation with my new fans from the 'audience'. SFF was leaving and I elected to go with him to his crash pad rather than stay at the club alone with no language skills and no knowledge of the way back to the station. I levitated along behind him, noting with an internal giggle the cherry-on-the-cake surreality of his comment as we walked down a narrow alleyway: 

'Zere are many leetle toads in zis alley. Try not to squeesh zem.' 

Back at his we were treated to champagne and cakes, and his lady got drunk instantly, broke her stony reserve, and demanded that he teach her how to compliment my breasts in English. The hilarity of a Frenchman trying to teach a hammered Japanese girl the phrase 'nice tits' still makes me smile to this day. The only thing that from then on, in fact, that DIDN’T make me smile was the sight of my arse in the mirror. I had known it was a bit painful to sit on, but jesus christ. 

Sunday, 2 December 2012

Let's face it: it isn't going to work

I should be feeling great this morning after cooking a kick-ass Christmas feast for 12 people in someone  else's kitchen but I feel quite sad.

Maybe it is a hangover or lack of sleep...I could blame these things. However, I think it is the realisation that as much as I'd like things to work out with Mr Sporty...I feel in my heart of hearts they are not going to.

Let's look at the positives first. We have a great chemistry and we really fancy each other. Good start eh? Conversation comes easily and we're both nice people (he's not a dickhead) who work in the same industry and we both appreciate each other right down to the little things. We're different but that is okay. The sex is really good, he's very sensual and he's a great kisser. He ticks a lot of boxes.

But then there are some major boxes he doesn't tick. He has been single for a long time. He likes his space and his freedom and he's not sure that it will be easy for him to change though he wants to try. His moods fluctuate. One minute he's with me and he feels so present and so there and then the next he's as far away as he can possibly be.

A challenge is one thing but I think this is going to be some awful hard work and whilst I can try to be patient and easy-going there is not a lot else I can do. We've talked about it and he has said that there will come a point soon where he'll know if he can or can't commit. And if he can' won't be me. It will simply be him not being ready or willing. He tells me this so I don't get attached and so I can protect myself and not get hurt.

It has been three weeks of seeing this guy and he's telling me this late last night as we head back to mine. We then get into bed and it is fantastic for ten or so hours. We talk and play with each other all night and it feels so good and we're both happy. In these moments he says that he cannot imagine walking away but we know that this is only in these moments. The morning will come, the day will develop and then he'll slip away again. Which he someone flipped a switch around 11am.

And it makes me feel really sad because its just another hope I pinned on someone that will probably never come to light. It was all the promise and potential that I can now see slipping through my fingers once again. I haven't liked someone like this in some while and now I know I will have to draw in a breath, take a step back, push through the pain and watch it all unfold and play out.

I would like to be wrong. I could be wrong and pessimistic but so many other past experiences have told me not to kid myself. Still, I'll hold on and see...and then I'll deal with it and keep moving on.

Sunday, 25 November 2012

Kinky Tikki: Down the Rabbit Hole

Part 1

Tied up, topless and immobilised onstage in a surreal fetish bar, waiting for the police to rush in and deport me on the spot, I wondered how on earth I’d got there. Well, let’s see….

One of the things I most wanted to do in Tokyo right from the start was to check out some shibari, or erotic rope bondage. Being tied up seems to make me feel instantly relaxed and submissive, and from the few experiences I’d had, I knew I liked it, so what’s a girl to do when she comes to the home of shibari? Get right in there, that’s what. I wasn’t fully prepared for the surreal night I was letting myself in for, though…

Basically, a friend of mine who’s an international expert in rope bondage gave me the contact of  a guy who was big in the Japan scene, so he could introduce me to a couple of places. This sounded great at the time, until I was waiting in one of the grottiest parts of town on my own, to be picked up in the car of this fifty-something guy who had sounded on the phone rather like the phonehacker’s impression of a Nigerian scammer – 'Con ah have your bankaccountdetailll?' I stood there uneasily on a street corner, at a safe distance from the pimps, mentally going over polite ways to back out if he turned out to give me really bad vibes. Thankfully, up rolled a debonair silver fox of a Frenchman in a tiny racing Porsche that already contained his Japanese girlfriend. I felt instantly at ease, and allowed myself to be bundled into the back, where I could barely sit upright, and driven, playboy style, to the club.

Walking in we passed a load of Yakuza – Japanese mafia – whom Silver Fox Frenchie informed me were just there to keep the peace and make sure things ran smoothly. 'Do not bozzer zem and zey will not bozzer you.' Yakuza and wasps – the only difference is that one takes some of your fruit and the other takes some of your profits, apparently.

After becoming a member, they gave me a pink wristband for single females, or as they put it, “lonely girls”, and SFF paid for the whole thing so smoothly and quickly that I only realised it had all happened after I was in. It was a small bar with one main room and a low stage, strung with tacky paper Halloween decorations, childrens’ games like Hungry Hippos and Boppit on each low table, with a pole in the middle of the room, a couples’ room off to one side, and a changing room with a rack of silly costumes. Quintessentially Japanese in its mix of cute and filth. SFF presented me to the two guys who ran the bar – both stars on the Tokyo shibari scene – like a gift. Behind the polite Japanese smiles, their eyes lit up. And low and behold, they were both young and cute. I was a happy bunny, in spite – or maybe because – of being treated like an exotic blonde treat.

Things were slow at first. There were quite a few Japanese guys running around in schoolgirl/sailor costumes and being harmlessly silly, and a girl in a bunny suit who was getting quite a lot of attention. For the first couple of hours I made polite conversation with my benefactor, surveyed the scene and fended off the approaches of drunk Japanese men, which wasn’t difficult, because even in a fetish bar, they’re pretty polite and respectful of personal space. Plus I could just pull the ignorant foreigner card if in doubt. I felt like I’d walked into another world rather, and blinked dazedly, taking it all in and adjusting slowly like someone entering a cave.

Things got a bit more sexual, gradually – a woman got tied up onstage with the top guy who owned the bar – we’ll call him K – another girl got pleasured whilst a guy next to me shone a torch at her lady parts, and other people kept running around with Hitachi magic wands if you don’t know what it is, it’s probably the best known and most used vibrator on the kink/porn scenes, a giant, buzzing, mains powered behemoth of a thing) doing dastardly deeds. 

Bunny girl ended up in a groping pile, which I joined briefly just to see what Japanese boob felt like (underwhelming), and the ridiculously costumed men began wandering around wanking. One wanked at my hair for a little while, about a metre away (remember what I said about personal space even in a fetish bar?!) but I ignored him and he went away. I went back to sit on the sofas and watch SFF tie up his playmate rather nicely onstage, but Bunny Girl was having sex with several different men by this point, and she kept blocking my view. 

I was frankly a little bored, and stifled by the language barrier. Still, I felt I’d achieved what I’d come there to do, and seen some real Japanese shibari, so I contented myself with the fact I could go home a success.

Little did I know what else the night held in store...

Thursday, 22 November 2012

Emotional v Rational: The Waiting Game continues...

ES: So you know this guy at work?

RS: Yeah...

ES: I'm getting a tinsy-weensy bit impatient.

RS: Hmm...Patience was never your virtue.

ES: is just that - I've read the books...if a guy is 'into you' surely you know? Like, he's meant to be chasing you and stuff?

RS: Yes, I guess so.

ES: And he's kind of sending me mixed messages right now. Hot one minute, detached and simply friendly the next. I think he's making up his mind. He pretty much said so in the last text he sent...

RS: So give him some patient.

ES: Yeah but isn't that a BAD sign? That he needs time to make up his mind?! Why can't he instantly see how wonderful I am?

RS: It might not have anything to do with you and everything to do with him.

ES: Hmm.... What if you're just making excuses for him? I just have a bad feeling about this and I'm trying to, you know,...practise self-respect and all that jazz...

RS: Yeah but you're not losing any self-respect right now by simply holding back and waiting. If you go charging in there making demands like a bull in a china shop then you certainly will....

ES: Hmm.... okay, I see your point. I'll try and be patient.

RS: Good - it will be excellent practise for you. Keep me posted.

ES: Hmpf!

Sunday, 18 November 2012

A week of the waiting game

So after four days my impatience wore thin (I was pretty impressed I lasted so long) and I sent Mr Sporty a text:

'So last Saturday night...Have haven't spoken about it...Are we going to?'

I guess sending a text automatically displays my interest but I tried to keep any emotion out of it or to reveal too much. I wish I hadn't been so impatient because he came back with:

'Sure. Hadn't avoided it particularly, just acting normal. Should be a chance over a beer tomorrow.'

I could have held on until the weekend when I knew there would be a chance to talk. During the week my mind had been plagued with various thoughts on the matter and I went from total scrutiny to not giving a f-ck and back again. Sketchy memories of last Saturday night and Sunday morning came back like a boomerang to hit me dully on the side of the head. I cringed at how much I talked...I really need to work on this but its been a battle I've been fighting for years. I used to have a plaque on my school folder which read:

'But your brain into gear before you set your mouth in motion' 

Or something along those lines. It is so true.

Lying in bed, post-coital I actually said to him with no thought and no scrupples:

'Oh you were lucky, I wasn't sure if I was up to it with this hangover, at one point I thought I was going to burp in your mouth.'


Yup, I've got no shame and all the best lines.

And I showed him some stupid cat videos on YouTube...

(don't look at me like that)

...there goes my cool credentials totally. As my dear friend said later in an email quoting Scrubs:

'Deal out your crazy in small doses.'

Apt advice...thought I can't imagine I'll ever learn how to put it into practise.

Anyway...the good news is - despite all of this - he likes me! He must be mental as well because I think he finds these quirks endearing right now... ('right now' being choice words). all looks promising!!!

Or does it?

The guy is 33. He's rather private but he told me he's never had a relationship that lasted a year let alone a couple of months. Why? He wouldn't say...


This is total alarm bells. 

A) It means I now have to be even more cautious and vigilant of my poor 'achey break-y heart' 


B) Even if we get so far it implies that I might have to train him... 

Oh boy! As ever I'll keep you posted.

Saturday, 17 November 2012

Kinky Tikki: Perverse Pilgrim

So you've met Miss Stiffy and you've had our male perspective writer who has yet to choose a name for himself. Now, our fourth and final writer: The wonderful Kinky Tikki!

Perverse pilgrim, warped wanderer, salacious sightseer, I suppose you could call me Franksexual’s 'foreign correspondent'. I’m currently in Tokyo and planning to do more travelling over the next year or so. I’m also, perhaps, your window into a bit of kink. 

I hesitate to describe myself as 'kinky', since in the grand scheme of things I’m pretty laid – back: your conception of what counts as extreme definitely shifts in relation to what you’ve seen, so it’s sort of impossible to put kink on a graph. I usually say that on a scale of vanilla to… err…  liquorice, I’m about cinnamon. 

I’ve tried a few things and floated around the fringes of the kink scene for a few years, but I’m by no means experienced. I do adore the unconventional, challenging and lascivious things in life, though, and I have a tendency to seek them out. Comfort zone? What comfort zone?

When I was asked to write for Franksexual, I must admit I saw it as a challenge. Maybe even an excuse, as though I should need one. I’m now officially TASKED with the job of getting into all sorts of mischief in order to answer those burning questions everybody has about the Japanese sexual underworld, viz:

'Do they really have tiny cocks?'

'Do they all secretly lust after schoolgirls and tentacles?'

'Do they really sell used knickers in vending machines?'

'After all the rape porn they’re inundated with, does “no” kind of mean “yes”?'

'Do all Japanese girls really make that squeaky noise in bed?'

'What do they think of Westerners and our own sex lives?'

So stay with me, dear readers, as I attempt to answer all this and more. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. 

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Men Who Lose Interest After Sex

It is not a hard and fast rule, there are exceptions, but general advice on the street is usually to avoid sleeping with a man until the 3rd date. Hopping into bed with a guy on the first night might mean instant sexual gratification but it can pose problems after if you're looking for something more serious - or even just simply 'some more of the good stuff'.

I have been known to not take this advice often and I have suffered the consequences. Now, I have a bit of a problem with this rule. 

Sometimes you get drunk...

Sometimes you get carried away... (if you're impatient and cock hungry like me)

Sometimes you're not even sure if you like the guy but sleeping with them is a good form of research...

Sometimes you think:

 'Hey! This is the 21st Century, woman have adapted with the pill...come on men! Get modern...'

It seems these thoughts still don't change things. If you find yourself dealing with a guy who has lost interest...I'm afraid it is what it is and all you can do (to keep your self-respect in tact) is to move on.

What you mustn't do is turn bunny boiler and chase're not getting this lost opportunity back.

So...why do I mention this? 

Well, because it is two, almost three days later and I don't know have a clue where I stand with Mr Sporty yet. I have hardly seen him to be fair and it can take a while for the 'mist' to clear.

I've been very well-behaved though. No texts, no chasing, no nothing. Just the odd smile in passing here and there. It really is up to him to decide the next move and this is very important if I want to 'rescue' this and maybe start something.

I don't know if I do want to start something...

But I'd like to also keep my options open as I do fancy him a little and it could be fun. I may have already screwed it up though...

But then, if I was never right or meant to be in the first place. I'll keep you posted anyway...

PS I just also read this article whilst I was doing some research...Even I have to admit I was talking too much in my still drunk stupor the next morning...

Damn it! I always do this! Hmm...not sure the odds are in my favour!

Oh and I love yahoo answers take on this from some random chat room:

Sex is used by women to CREATE bonding and intimacy.
Sex is used by men to DECIDE whether or not we will create bonding and intimacy.

Well there you go...the ball is in his court.

Monday, 12 November 2012

You know how I wrote about options...? surprisingly presented itself -or should I say 'himself' as he is a person - to me on Saturday night. It just goes to show again how wrong I often am about these things. I always think 'nah...that will never happen.' - perhaps I underestimate myself  - and then I'm rather wide-eyed in disbelief and startled when things do actually happen.

It started like a normal night with dinner and some drinks round mine and we then popped out for a few more as it was still early hours. My intention was to then head home...

Fast forward through many red wines, beers and tequila shots and we've got some crazy dance floor antics. Its all a bit blurry (too many dance spins and twirls) but I was talking away as you do and engrossed in conversation and I don't know...the more you drink the more tactile you get... and before I know it I'm being enticed down the road at 3am in some direction nowhere near to home and then I'm waking up at sometime around 10am and wondering where I am and who left the lights on - oh that is actually the sunlight...!!!

I did wake up to a nice view - in more ways than one. His house overlooks the sea. The rest of the morning was spent nursing a hangover, feeling too sick to really move or do much else other than huddle shakily (me, not him) together under a blanket on the sofa. When I finally had the energy he lent me an umbrella and walked me to a place I recognised and I crawled home and into bed.

Before I had even properly digested the evening's events I realised I was due to talk to my Spanish friend on Skype (was it 4 o'clock already!?!) and that I would have to tell him because we don't really keep anything from each other.

I decided to go with the open approach. We're not dating and he's not the jealous type and I'd rather be truthful and totally 'me' with him. I was a little worried though. We talked and it all seemed to go okay but later he got in touch again and we discussed it all a bit more in-depth. I feel better about it now and whilst he isn't glad about my actions he's not upset either. We're 'cool' so to speak.

As for my work colleague...I have to face him today and see how the dust has settled. What this will all lead to I have no idea, no real expectation and I'm in no rush. He's a very nice man so I don't expect any dick head behaviour though.

Oh and in case you're was the Sporty one.... 

Friday, 9 November 2012

Miss Stiffy: I'll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours

Introducing our latest writer: Miss Stiffy, a twenty something lovefool looking for love in all the wrong places, fumbling in her newly found singledom like a furious horny mole.

Modern relationships are a funny thing, hey? The boundaries change from day to day and if you're a bit like me, you're likely to run into trouble at some point. Or crash face first into a wall, completely destroying any shred of dignity you thought you once had.

I suppose after four years in a relationship that I was misguided in thinking that I knew what to expect or that somehow, with age and experience, that I was in the know.

Well, that relationship recently came to what mostly resembles an end. It was all very grown up and matter of fact. You're going to be there for a long time and I'm going to be here so let's just say 'see you later' and hope that one day we do, in fact, actually see each other. In the meantime, lets concentrate on our careers and be all mature and cool and adult about it. Fine, fine. All good. And I genuinely thought it was.

Or at least I did until my super hot guy friend (on whom I secretly had a crush) from the coffee shop got in contact after a few months of my being in the single world. 

It all started with an innocent picture of a chocolate pumpkin on my lap but before I knew it (what's that behind the pumpkin?) it was rapidly resembling something more like soft porn. I guess that sometimes happens when you've got a whole bunch of pent up frustration you didn't realise you had and needed to vent.

And so our deal was tit for tat. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Oh the wonders and immediacy of modern technology! From chocolate pumpkin to papping my own breasts in the mirror. I felt completely comfortable in forging ahead, pausing only momentarily to think 'is this really slutty?' and brushing it off. We were equals. We had each denied wanting it for such a long time and were now comparing notes. Both plunging into the pool of pure filth hand in hand. These are contemporary times and, what's more, I bloody felt like it. Plus, we're both adults, you know? You know? (Please tell me you know?)

It was scintillating. It was delicious and it made me feel really damn good. Your totally cool chica. That's me. Showing my vag to the coffee boy in exchange for his lovely penis.

Well, fast forward a full month and there has yet to be another word from coffee boy's mouth and obviously I'm not. fecking. impressed. However, what I'm mostly not impressed with is not that fact that he is ignoring me (even though it's the mark of a totally vile beast) but a few words a girly friend of mine dared to utter when I regaled her with my sorry sordid story.

 'Well, what did you expect? Of course he was going to ignore you after.' 

'Erm. I'm sorry. Come again? Did you actually just say and imply what I think you just said and implied?!'

I suppose I'm the fool. Of course! What did I expect? Naturally if you show someone your vagina in exchange for their cock then you're a slut and that gives any guy the go-ahead pass to completely deny your existence the following day. Oh and it's all your own stupid fault. It's not as if we're both supposed to be adults just having a little girl on guy fun. It's not because as women we have become sexually liberated and it's certainly not because we're equals, he and I. 

Oh no, because girls shouldn't be like that, should they?  

When he asked me what was behind the chocolate pumpkin, I should have said 

'My 100 denier Marks and Spencers tights thanks'

and saved the trouble.

Silly me. Silly boy. Silly fucking vagina.

P.S I love my vagina, really. 

Sunday, 4 November 2012

What are my options?!

So I am in Spain and I want to learn Spanish...

Many bright sparks tell me knowingly: ' Find yourself a Spanish boyfriend....'

Well...okay, thanks for the tip...but where? I teach teenagers and kids and I don't come across many tasty male Spaniards, unless you count my banker but he's average and if I f-ck that up then who will help me with my banking?!

There is my Spanish friend but we've already covered that ground though he is a great asset.

Ok Cupid is another place to turn but seriously...?! I think I must be too fussy as every person on there seems to be a moron.

What is it with dating sites? All the men look like they are posing - don't get me started on photos of men holding up their iphones as they snap themselves in the mirror!!! I hate it! - or they write just the most pretentious stuff when engaging with you.

The last suitor was getting all excited and kinky one minute after only a few lines of conversation, inviting me to chat on whatsapp (no thanks...not until I know you're not a weirdo that I can't shake loose), and the next he was asking me if I wanted to go for a blueberry tea....Bizarre.

Anyway he looked like the son, Neil, of hotel owners from Dirty Dancing - you know who I mean? (see photo if not) The cheesy, arrogant twatbag who wants to dance 'The Pechanga!' I stopped writing back as I often do when they fail to impress me.

So I look around me and I end up focussing my attention on my male colleagues who are a rather decent and lovely bunch of gentlemen. Except they are English...Hmm...

But in terms of talent it is still worth consideration, (they aren't unattractive and they are very nice)...except that's as far as I get there too. One or two of them might be worthy of a fling but in terms of something substantial I think I'd be wasting my time. Let's break it down and consider the three contenders:

The Sporty One

Possibly the most attractive. Tall, lean, bearded...bright, expressive eyes and a nice smile. Very chatty and intelligent and probably the best option. Except he's often out doing his own thing and he's too into football for my liking and healthy living and sport...I don't mind this but I need someone who is sometimes a bit of a deviant and the occasional couch potato. I promised myself this after my long term ex.

The Friendly One

Lots in common and lots to talk about. A really interesting and lovely guy...except he's riddled with surgical scars, he's shorter than me (total no-no) and he's just not my type. Plus he seems a lot older than he actually is - not that this is a bad thing, just saying...

The Nowhere Man

Also attractive with a nice body from climbing regularly - he looks excellent for his age in terms of physical fitness - but he's quiet and a drifter who admitted to me that he's secretly somewhat depressed.  He doesn't know where he's going to and he needs to work this out. He's floated from one station to the next all his life without what seems to be any real consideration or passion. Once he knows what he wants I think his life will become easier. Though when this will be looks uncertain. The last thing he needs is someone clouding his vision and I don't want to appear to be a solution as I wouldn't be. I'd just become a problem.

So...the well is dry. Not ideal when I am meant to be writing about relationships and sex... Fortunately there are other writers who can contribute and there are always the archives! You'll just have to bear with me I'm afraid!

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Emotional rationalisation: Something to add...

RS: Hey!

ES: Oh hey...what do you want?

RS: Well I've been thinking...

ES: Yes?

RS: You know how this year you slept with two guys who had girlfriends?

ES: Oh...yeah that.


ES: I won't.

RS: Dude, it is so not cool. Once is possibly understandable, people are happens... but twice?!!

ES: You sound like my best friend.

RS: They're right. What do you think it says about you?

ES: That I was selfish...that I gave into desire...that I didn't think about the bigger picture.

RS: Right. Do you want to be that kind of person? Where are your morals? How would you like it if someone did it to you?

ES: I know. I did think about that at the time briefly but then I just decided to take the karma whack later.

RS: Well...People will always disapprove and they will think less of you.  Not that you should care what people think always but...You should care about yourself! Your decency is coming into question here! You really should have more self-respect...and self-restrain for that matter! Aim higher and don't be a douche bag. No one really gains from that sort of situation, okay?

ES:...Well... there is the sexual gratification in the moment...

RS: ...but it is short-lived and then there is aways the guilt! And if you're not feeling guilty...?!!!

ES: Okay, okay...I don't know why I let it happen...Well I did...they were both too fit to resist. I guess I was just being selfish, it was thrilling and I thought no harm could come of it as no one would find out.

RS: Well, you're wrong - if anything you've harmed yourself. You have called your character into question, I thought you wanted more for yourself?

ES: I do...I guess I just rationalised that it was all part of life's rich tapestry and a mistake to try and then be able to take something from it...the experience, a lesson learnt.

RS: Rationalised? Don't blame me for this... Well, consider it a lesson. It is not a good thing to do.

ES: Ok, ok...point taken.

RS: Good....but I'm watching you!

Sunday, 28 October 2012

Emotional rationalisation: inner dialogues

This is an inner dialogue between my emotional side and my rational side about recent friendship worries.

ES: I'm angry with my friends.

RS: Anger is not going to get you anywhere.

ES: Okay, I'm a bit fed up then.

RS: That's better. Why?

ES: Well...I love them but some (in particular) of my closest friends have been pretty lame at keeping in touch and showing me they care.

RS: They do care about you, they are just busy.

ES: That's the same old excuse you give me every time.

RS: Well, it is true. Anyway, they have been in touch so you're kind of exaggerating and maybe blowing things out of proportion. You know you tend to do that and your friends have even told you that yourself.

ES: Yeah...but I remember days when our correspondence was more frequent and plentiful.

RS: Life changes and it can't always be a show centred round you.

ES: No, I'm not saying it should be...

RS: Plus you don't live in their city anymore and they could argue that it is you who has taken yourself off.

ES: I don't know...I just would like to hear from them a little more. I want more meaningful conversations to reassure me that I'm still special to them.

RS: I'm sure you are special to them...

ES: Well I don't feel that way...

RS: Well, isn't that your problem? And you've just got to deal with it. You need to work at letting go.

ES: Yeah I guess...still, I'm allowed to feel fed up a bit, right?

RS: Yes, but if you start getting demanding and grumpy with your friends you know you'll always get the opposite of what you desire...

ES: Man, this is frustrating!

RS: Yes, I suppose it is. Look, just leave it for now. Go busy yourself with making new friends and having new experiences. Your old friends will be in touch sooner or later if they are worth anything.

ES: Yeah but I worry, I have been busy doing all you said...

RS: Come on...don't focus on the negative. I know you miss these friends and worry about losing them or them not valuing you enough as you value them but it is also down to needs. They are in a city surrounded by your other friends - their needs are being met, your needs are wanting because you are in a new place and you have been in a lot of new places over the last few years and this is a great thing but doubt and loneliness initially come as part of the package. Anyway you need to look at the positives...

ES: Go on...

RS: Those other friends who are more reliable right now and in regular contact. The ones you've been Skyping and sharing long emails with. You have lots of friends! What does it matter about a few? Things ebb and flow...maybe one day in the future these people who write now will be busy and those other friends will be more just never know.

ES: OK...yeah. You're right. I just hope that distance doesn't destroy things in the end.

RS: It shouldn't...and anyway we live in a world of social media and connection these days. It is hard to lose total contact.

ES: OK, but one more thing...there was that drama I had with that one friend back in June. I worry there is still ill feeling. I really don't know what brought that on...

RS: Yes you do, she was stressed from her course.

ES: OK, but girls don't forget these things...what if she is harbouring bad feeling still?

RS: What? Like you?! Let it is colouring your perception.

ES: I'm trying to but I worry...

RS: You worry too much!

ES: Yes, yes I do.

RS: Just be patient. If in doubt, do nought. Just wait and see how the tide turns.

ES: Ok...but you know patience is my weakest point, right?

RS: Well that is something to develop then. Now go and do something else rather than writing out this dialogue to sort out your feelings!

ES: Okay! (reluctantly) Thanks....

RS: Anytime! I know you'll be back.