So, there’s been a lot of talk about words and their ability to turn people on/off going around on Twitter the past couple of days, and (as ever) I have more I want to say on the topic, so this is the first of a couple of blog posts about sex and words.
Category Archives: Sex
Better than hugging
Among the stranger conversations I’ve had in the past few days was one with my former boss, when I asked how things were going with her (relatively) new boyfriend.
‘Good, thanks’ she replied. ‘Except he’s a moody bugger and I can’t so much as do the washing up without getting smacked on the arse with a tea towel.’
I have *no* idea how we got there.
Not my fantasy
When it comes to writing erotica, I tend to stick to things that turn me on personally. Hence, certain themes crop up time and again.
Strangers. Non consent. Anal.
But recently, my heroine seems to be branching out, which, given the above, probably means that I am too.
Sleaze, yes please (occasionally)
Another blog post hot on the heels of last night’s – partly to make it clear that I have no intention of this becoming a largely protected blog and also because this was the post I wanted to write last night but wasn’t thinking coherently enough to pull all the strands of together.
It started with reading Justine Elyot’s short story, Thames Link, which opens with this line:
” I sing the praise of the sleazy man.”
Ode to missionary
There’s a small chance that if I post something tonight it’ll tip my blog hits over the 10,000 mark, and seeing as we all (well, me at least) love a bit of stats porn, it seemed as good a reason as any.
I was perusing Twitter a few days ago, when I saw this Tweet. And I was looking at it again just now and the comments, especially ‘never been bored on my back tbh’ made me LOL on the bus (it’s ok, I promise never to say that ever again). Because I totally agree. I love the missionary position, and not just because I’m all insecure about my body, but also because:
Squick
If you talk about something enough, people start to think you actually know something about it. Which, of course, is not true. I could talk at length about the geography of Europe or the different species of animals in the Lion King, but actually, I’m pretty ill-informed on both.
The same is true of sex. I’ve had much less than most of the friends I talk about it with, so it’s strange that they nonetheless sometimes come to me for advice. I wonder occasionally if it’s because I’ve somehow cast myself I the role of big sister – at uni I was one of only a couple of girls on my corridor who took a gap year, so suddenly I went from being the youngest in my year group to being the oldest. Not that that meant more mature. Who set fire to the toaster at 3am and ended up greeting the fire brigade? Yep, that was me.
Rules are made to be broken
Lots of talk about policy/rules/guidelines for life/dating going on around Twitter this week. Like most girls, I have a few policies of my own. Never trust a guy who doesn’t like garlic. Wine is not a treat; it’s the drink that goes with dinner (hmm, these are all to do with food). A hot bath with Radox solves a lot of life’s problems. And finally, kind of linked to that, if you’re spending the evening with a guy, you need some time to get ready.
Hotel sex
A few years back, I stayed the night in a hotel in London. I was spending the day with one male friend, and the evening with another, and I was intending to spend the night with neither of them. (That’s to say: I would have quite liked to spend the night with Male Friend No. 2, but I knew that that was extremely unlikely to happen).
Male Friend No. 2 and I were having dinner when I got a text from No. 1. The text said something like:
What time will you be done? How about I come to your hotel later and we can enjoy fresh sheets and each other’s bodies?
Red: a fantasy
WI last night (it caused much joy on Twitter that I’m a WI member) and a lesson in the art of perfecting the smoky eye.
Actually, I’m a big fan of sexy eye make up, but the smoky eye is, y’ know, sensible sexy, isn’t it? It’s not slutty, or attention grabbing, it’s office appropriate.
Last time I had a professional make up artist play with my make up, I got her to show me what would be my perfect shade of red lippy, and then I bought it, and all the shebang that goes with it: liner, a brush and sealant.
Do you want that with cream or ice cream?
A long while ago now, I introduced the boy to a small group of my friends. I can still remember the conversation we had after he left, and specifically, this line:
‘He’s very alpha, isn’t he?’
Hmmm. Up to that point I hadn’t really considered where he sat in the Greek alphabet – all I cared about was that his confidence carried over to making me feel comfortable getting naked with him. But yes, compared to the men my friends and I were used to, he was / is very alpha.
Sex blog (of sorts) 