Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Heavy Metal

Lying in the bath, she called out to him for company and he dragged himself away from the computer. The candles dotted around the bathroom infused everything with a warm glow and filled the air with the scent of heated vanilla, producing an overall sensation of total serenity. They had spent the weekend wrapped up in each other. Hour after hour of fucking, interspersed with feeding or snuggling on the couch to refract whilst watching a film.

As he stood beside her, she reached out and parted his robe. Her soapy hand grasping its target, carefully cleaning her residue from all the nooks and crannies and rinsing it off with a flannel.

He smiled and knelt down on the floor beside the bath, trailing his fingers through the bubbles until he could run their tips across the soft mound between her legs. Parting the foam, he inspected the area thoroughly, before pulling at the various strands of hair and carefully trimming the longer lengths with the nail scissors. Extending each of the recalcitrant tresses and snipping it level with its neighbour.

Stopping once in a while to watch her face as she relaxed back into the warm water and surrendered herself to his attentions, he pursued his task. Following the line of her outer labia up one side to the join at the top. The little triangle formed by the two lips and her clit and the most delicate of areas. One slip of the hand, one lapse in concentration would mean disaster.

He could feel her shiver every time the blade of the scissors brushed against her clit. Cold hard metal on the softest of hot flesh and the completeness of the intimacy sending the thrills of desire coursing through her. Little rippling shivers communicating themselves from the receivers in her brain and effervescing into the pleasure centres in her groin. Arousing her again and again each time there was the slightest contact. Her breathing building to little short panting gasps of need until he pulled her out of the bath and bent her, wet and dripping, over the side to slide his way into her.

One stroke, two, three and then she pushed him away.

Grabbing his cock she dragged him into the bedroom. Dropping to all fours and applying her tulip to her throbbing clit, he heard her scream for him as the orgasm hit instantly and then multiplied as he plunged into her over and over again. His semen filling her as he collapsed prostrate onto her still climaxing body.


Standing naked as she washed up in the kitchen, he caught her completely unawares. One arm suddenly wrapped around her from behind, forcing her body into his and holding her completely still. The other hand pressing the blade of the big kitchen knife to her throat as she froze in panic.

The cold steel on her neck throwing her into a confusion of simultaneous panic and excitement. She knew what she should do to attempt to free herself and yet, because of who he was, she was unwilling to even try. The penalty for any error could be catastrophic. She stood there immobilised, her mouth vocalising the fear, begging him to put down the weapon, whilst her mind screamed its terror.

And yet she couldn't help but be aware of her cunt moistening; the lust rising and betraying her once again.

The denouement was inevitable.

Did he now know her better than she knew herself...?

Monday, 29 September 2008

Sunday, 28 September 2008

Sugasm #148

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #149? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

People I could hang out with “But it wasn’t just a story, it was a damn sexy story.”

Red, Hot Ass “I grunted, but held still.”

Smart Girls Make Better Lovers “Chicks with brains can make you scream.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice Sex Blogging and Writing for the Drawer

More Sugasm

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See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Saturday, 27 September 2008


I sent the link of Jackie's Queynts to Ruf and asked him to select which one was me.

When his reply come back - 'It's Number *, but if not then Number &', I was surprised because I was pretty sure it was Number &.

So, when Jackie told me, I was actually Number *, as Ruf had stated, I was rather gobsmacked.

To be fair, he did take the original image, but it was a year ago and he was really pleased to be right because he said there was a fair amount of artistic licence involved. However, he worked on the shape of the inner labia which narrowed it down. I think the very fact that he was able to guess correctly shows that the artist's interpretation had not strayed too far from the truth and the essence of the original model is still there.

And, no, I'm not going to tell you which one is me. I think the anonymity aspect is a huge part of its appeal. No one's going to be saying 'that pussy type gets better/more sex' or making any other assumptions. The idea is to appreciate the beauty and the variety of the female vulva.

From a personal point of view, this has been a very empowering project in which to be involved. The thing is that, even with photographic evidence, I just don't really know what I look like down there. Certainly not like I would recognise the back of my hand... *Cue Eric Morcambe-type jump of shock as catches sight of hand*

Comparing Ruf's picture side by side with Jackie's acrylic version is very interesting. I can remember him taking the snap after a particularly vigorous weekend of pleasure and I clearly recall all the teasing and posing, opening and closing to present the various folds and creases in the best possible light. When he showed me the final shot, I was reminded of a flower. A rather swollen and bruised bloom, but a flower nonetheless. Seeing that part of me through the artistic impression of a third party has made me so much more aware of the various constituent parts. Things which I might not have liked before seem less noticeable and others more obvious. To have one's most secret places dissected by a completely unbiased outsider is most peculiar and yet so enlightening.

With some readers expressing a preference for one or two of the pictures over others, I'm curious as to what constitutes the perfect cunt - the so-called Designer Vagina. Should the lips be totally closed with all the goodies hidden away inside? Even when the legs are open? Does the size of the clitoris make a difference to the general appeal of the area? How much of a role does pubic hair play in the appreciation of the bigger picture? And are the requirements different depending on whether you are male or female?

I've watched several programmes recently about ladybits - The Sex Education Show; The Designer Vagina where women were having bits of their inner labia trimmed off because they (and, more importantly, others) considered them ugly; and another The Day I Will Never Forget with the horrendous sight of young girls being circumcised and sewn up because their religion considers the clitoris to be dirty - and it has really made me start to come to terms with my own phobia.

Ruf says I have a very neat and pretty pussy. That, and the fact that he can't wait to get his face in there, has been very therapeutic :)

I shall be looking at my queynte pic on a regular basis to remind myself that this is me. I adore my little inner lady too. That is such a fabulous trademark for Jackie's work and so absolutely right for this project.

Thursday, 25 September 2008

HNT : Queynte

A few weeks ago, I posted a picture of the Olympic Stadium in Beijing and chided you all for expecting me to expose my girlie bits as a click-thru.

Well, about a year ago, Ruf did indeed take such a picture. I sent it off to the remarkable erotic artist, Jackie Adshead, who had asked for volunteers to help her create a whole gallery of blogging pussies as in the famous episode of Sex and The City.

Today, Jackie emailed me to tell me that she has now completed the paintings. Why don't you go over and take a look...

And then you can start guessing just which one is me :)


Tuesday, 23 September 2008


I thought I was not a regular squirter.

But, with this additional highlight, we can both see.

It has sprayed everywhere.

The raspberry rippled puddle on the failed protection of the towel,

A splatter pattern on the surrounding sheet,

Both pairs of hands and the tulip, stained red and tacky.

Crimson finger-printed contusions on my thighs and butt cheeks.

Our matching go-faster stripes from belly to groin.

Pubic hair sticky and matted.

The scene of an axe murder.

CSI would be having a field day.

And this is what defines us.

Where perhaps, in other circumstances, we might wait until another day.

Needs must...

Monday, 22 September 2008

Sunday, 21 September 2008

Sugasm #147

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #148? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Amazing ““You’re lucky I’m not being mean right now.””

Cum Squirt With Me. Confession #131 “Not much research has been done on the female orgasm in general, much less this seemingly new erotic marvel.”

Jealousy, Pornography and the Boundaries of Blogging “I search to be a sexually free, independent and satisfied woman without the stigma of slut yet with the positive implications of slut.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice Blue Fantasy, Red Silk Rope

More Sugasm

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See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Friday, 19 September 2008

OverRated: Toilet Brushes

Reading Peachy a couple of weeks ago, her piece on Lunadiesophobia referred to the disgusting phenomena of the toilet brush.

"The plumbing system tops it. The hundreds of times I've had to brave the ladies to escape the bored to tears monotony and obey my pressed on bladder, I have gagged and had to stuff my sleeve in my mouth and up my nose because there is always a floater in either one of the two loos. And some people have seemingly tried to get rid of them with the brown stained loo brushes - on perhaps several occasions - but have clearly failed and left the sticky shit clinging to the brushes and the brushes rotting in the corners of the bathrooms."

I couldn't have put it better than that.

I also recall a coffee morning when my children were part of a regular mother/toddler group that met at each other's houses weekly.

The gathered offspring were all about four and had disappeared off to the host's child's bedroom upstairs. And it had all gone horribly quiet.

I went off to investigate and discovered them gathered around the toilet, just as one of them had definitely removed the brush from a position very close to its mouth...


My toilet brush is there to clean the U bend with limescale remover, not persuade floaters to move along, but I still bleach it regularly just in case someone else uses it for that purpose.

Celebrity cleaner, Aggie, definitely advises not to have one at all. She says it is far better to don a pair of long sleeved rubber gloves and a disposable cloth to clean that area of the lavatory and then throw it all away afterwards. Sadly, I have enough trouble getting regular non-latex rubber gloves, let alone ones with sleeves that come up to my armpits. Therefore, the toilet brush has to stay.

But it is on sufferance.

Thursday, 18 September 2008

HNT - Feminine Sculpture

Once again, I am hugely grateful to d2b for his hard work in making my skin look like marble.

A couple of weeks ago, I began watching Waldemar Januszczak and The Sculpture Diaries and the first episode was just wonderful.

A proper introduction to sculpture that was not dry or boring but quite inspirational. Naturally I watched originally because the advertising blurb promised to show what the Venus de Milo looked like with her arms and how beautiful she was. He explained that originally Greek statues were all colourful but centuries in the ground robbed the marble of its pigment. Venus's robe was, in fact, a beautiful blue and her hair was brown.

The story goes that Paris was a mortal selected to choose which of three Goddesses was the most beautiful - Minerva/Athena, The Goddess of Wisdom, Juno/Hera, the Chief Goddess and Venus/Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. The victor would be given a special apple. Venus cheated by telling Paris that she would get Helen of Troy (the most beautiful mortal woman) to fall in love with him and so he chose Venus as the winner. The statue is supposed to portray her receiving the apple. So her left hand is slightly out from her body holding the apple and the other is across her body, clutching at her robe which is falling off.

The programme also focussed on another famous armless statue that was on display for a couple of years in Trafalgar Square. The statue of 'Alison Lapper Pregnant' by Marc Quinn has been a very controversial talking point. Ms Lapper, who was born with shortened legs and no arms because of a congenital disorder called phocomelia, said at the time: "I’m very excited about it. This is history in the making," she said.

"Never before has someone with a disability - let alone someone with a disability who is naked and eight months pregnant - been put in such a public place and portrayed in such a positive way."

I am indebted to Shauna Reid for her transcription of this part of the interview:

"... So many people, not just women, [say] 'How can you love your body?' I'm like, Well, why don't you love yours?

I found that very sad, that there are so many people out there, because of the media and all the rubbish that gets thrown at us, [thinking] that we should all be like stick insects with lollipop heads. No thank you."

As Waldemar said in the programme, who better to be the model for a statue celebrating the beauty of women.

Waldemar went on to dissect what it is that makes a woman classically beautiful and apparently the important figure for us all to remember is 0.7 - the ratio between waist and hips that is supposed to signify beauty in all races and cultures. He stated that both Marilyn Monroe and Kate Moss fit into this category. Maths not being one of my strongest subjects, I'll let you work out whether or not you do...

But in all this talk of proportions of bodily parts, he also produced another very famous statue of Venus. The Venus of Willendorf is thousands of years old and so tiny she can fit into the palm of your hand. To many she is the epitome of the beautiful woman because she signifies fecundity, the ability to produce children and it is believed that a woman who wanted to conceive would carry her around in her pocket for good luck.


Tuesday, 16 September 2008


They met through their kids... as so often happens.

A stay-at-home Dad and a full-time Mum, brought together through the medium of the play-date.

It started with an invitation to tea. Amelia and Madeline had taken a shine to each other at school and wanted to get together afterwards. Of course, this meant that there were arrangements to be made in terms of timing and transportation and so she was dragged across the playground to sort things out immediately with Amelia's parent - one of the very few men waiting 'at the schoolgate'. Tall, dark, bespectacled. Not classically handsome, but with a certain je ne sais quoi. They found themselves smiling at each other as parent mode took over and the negotiations with their determined and persistent offspring began. 'No, not for tonight! You have swimming.' 'And Amelia has piano tomorrow.' So, it was agreed for Friday at her house.

The following morning, she had got her act together and was a little earlier than normal on the school run. Not the usual frantic half-run to make it into the playground before the whistle, the well-used buggy creaking and complaining at the pace. This was a much more leisurely stroll in the sunshine.

Only to find him with his daughters waiting for the green man at the traffic lights. Naturally Milly and Maddie wandered off in front of them, holding hands as they chattered excitedly about the day ahead and the forthcoming get together. Leaving their parents to walk more sedately with the two younger siblings and try to make small talk.

His wife was the full-time breadwinner. She should have guessed that, as she had seen the personalised numberplate on their BMW. He was a computer programmer who was between contracts so they had taken their daughters away from their usual childminder for a couple of months since he was at home anyway. He was enjoying spending time with his girls.

Her own husband was working longer and longer hours and they hardly saw each other. She would never have admitted it but she enjoyed this new male's company. Whilst she loved her coffee mums to bits, after eight years, she was a little tired of the continual circular subjects of breastfeeding, nappies and vomit.

They became friends and would stand together in the playground chatting whilst they waited for their girls to come out. Their bodies moving ever closer together as the unacknowledged mutual attraction grew. No one seemed to notice or care... except for her son.

With some strange sixth sense, he knew there was something not right. That this man was some kind of predator when it came to his mother and her attentions. He would climb out of his buggy and, determined to interrupt their chatter, do things to regain her gaze. If he was playing with his friends and saw the man come to talk with her, he would run over and push himself bodily between them, demanding to be picked up. From there he would alternate between using his own head to block her view of what he obviously deemed 'a threat' and glowering malevolently at him. If this did not work, he would physically drag her away. and settle her in the middle of the playground on her own, well away from the object of his fears. Returning to his own chums, he would watch her and, if she attempted to return to the man, he would go back and reposition her out of harm's way.

They both thought his behaviour was rather funny. For what was there for him to fear? They were just friends after all. With daughters of the same age, they had lots in common.

Of course there were further teas at both houses and then came the long Summer break. The girls were distraught at the prospect of not seeing each other for all that time so the arrangement was made for a whole afternoon.

She would deliver Maddie after lunch and come and collect before bedtime. It was all either child could talk about for days. And she couldn't help but look forward to the prospect of seeing him again. She was becoming aware of the way her daydreams would often involve him. Leave her wondering what it would feel like to touch his strong shoulders... to be wrapped up in his arms. Shaking herself, she would administer a mental slap at her silliness and firmly apply herself to cleaning the kitchen floor. Good, hard work, guaranteed to drag her mind away from such fripperies.

On the day itself, they walked to Amelia's house and, before they had made it even half way up the path, the door was flung open. Anyone would think the two girls hadn't seen each other for months rather than less than two weeks, the way they were carrying on. Hugging each other and shrieking excitedly in the way only little girls can.

As she turned to push the buggy home, he called her name. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him smile shyly and offer coffee.

Every instinct in her was screaming 'No'! Bad idea. Further exposure. Going inside his house. But then she pulled herself together, remembering she had the ideal chaperone - her son.

So, whilst the girls rushed around upstairs using up their excited energy before settling in front of the big dolls house, the adults and the two younger children found themselves ensconsed in the kitchen. He started bustling around with his new coffee-making machine and she stood beside him as he showed her all the different varieties of flavours from which to choose. Immediately, the solid little body of a small boy burrowed its way between their legs and clutched at her thigh, whinging. She stooped to pick him up and he stopped at once. His presence interposed between them like some kind of forcefield whilst she made her selection and sat down at the table with his younger daughter.

The aroma of the fresh coffee was divine as he placed the steaming cup in front of her. Strong and black and full of flavour. She savoured each mouthful, whilst her son polished off his apple juice in short order. His plastic beaker refilled, he was dragged away by little Tamsin to watch a dvd, despite her voiced concerns about his ability to retain said liquid in the cup - even with the non-spill lid.

And there they were, alone at last with just the big wooden kitchen table between them. She couldn't meet his eye in case he should see the extremely unmaternal thoughts that were loitering there. She was horribly aware of the red stain as the blush made its way from her neck up into her cheeks.

'So, would you like to come upstairs then?'

'Excuse me?'

'The bathroom suite and the new fitted wardrobes I was telling you about before term ended. They're all finished now and, thank god, the mess has gone.'

He sounded just like 'one of us Mums' and she laughed as she told him so - as much at herself for her silly worries as at the completion of his transition into the domesticity of full-time houseperson.

She finished the last mouthful of coffee and followed him up the stairs into the bathroom. It was lovely. A big family bathroom with a corner suite, complete with jacuzzi feature. All clean and white and fresh.

And then onto the bedrooms, where each room had beautifully fitted cupboards of light oak, each with it's own peculiar shaping to the doors to fit in with the sloping ceilings from all the dormers.

The master bedroom itself was on the very top floor. It looked out over their garden, one of the biggest in the area and, perched on an incline higher than the rest, it had a balcony giving a view over the other rooftops down to the sea. He opened the doors and she followed him out to lean against the railings beside him and admire the curve of the bay with the waves lapping against the shore.

They were so close and yet not quite touching. Each of them aware of the heat from the other's adjacent thigh. One of them had only to move a centimetre and they would be touching, but neither entirely confident to make that step.

Simultaneously they moved their faces towards the other. She was aware of the pounding in her ears as he smiled at her. His mouth coming closer and closer. Her lips opening to receive...

'Aaaargh,' the wail of a small child in the room behind them stopped them in their tracks.

They started and jumped apart with the speed of the guilty caught in the act. As she gasped for air, she realised that she had been holding her breath and needed oxygen before she could run to her son.

Stopping at the entrance, she took in the scene. He had brought his drink upstairs and placed it on the wide window sill on one side of the master bedroom. As he played with the toy car that came everywhere with him, he had managed to knock over the beaker, losing the lid in the process and the sticky juice had run down into the rather strange ventilating and heating unit affixed to the wall beneath.

Of course, it could just have been an accident... except for the triumphant grin that played around his little mouth as he glared at the man on his hands and knees frantically trying to mop up the mess.

Apologising profusely she made her embarrassed excuses and took her son home with all speed. When she drove back later to collect Maddie, it was his wife who met her at the door and made pleasantries as the girls sadly said goodbye. Part of her was glad not to have to say sorry yet again for her son's accident but another was sad not to have a chance to ensure that everything was still ok between them.

Due to both families' annual vacations, there would be no more play-dates before term restarted, so she wasn't surprised when she didn't hear from him again for the remainder of the holidays but, on the first morning, when there was no sign of him on the schoolrun and again in the playground that afternoon, she did start to wonder at his absence.

As the days passed, she realised that she missed the pitter patter of the butterflies of excitement in her stomach at the prospect of seeing him twice a day; the frisson of pleasure running through her like a shiver as she entered the playground and saw him standing there. His half-smile of encouragement as he waited for her to come over and entertain him... or his slightly nervous approach as he meandered across to her. The way her daydreams had been full of the closeness that she felt with him.

By the end of the week the news had filtered down the grapevine. He had been called in to fill an emergency contract which had taken him overseas for three months and Amelia and her sister were now in full-time childcare whilst their mother was at work.

He had been a catalyst between her body's recognition that there was something not quite right and her mind's acknowledgement of what it was.

She had been 'saved by the bell' so to speak and her world would now return to normal. Stable, routine, mundane. Dominated by housework and the female sub-culture of the coffee mornings of a stay-at-home mother. Once again her life would be... dull.

She missed him.

Monday, 15 September 2008

Saturday, 13 September 2008

Putting the Arrrrr into Prostate

When Ruf expressed a desire to investigate his prostate, the lovely people at LoveHoney provided me with two new toys.

Nexus Duo Vibrating Unisex G Spot Stimulator Medium

This little white pleasure stick was actually much smaller than I expected, which is probably why Ruf was quite happy to insert it into his posterior. We've tried before with both a strap on and a medium sized butt plug but his bottom just wasn't having it. Clenched tight in panic and repelling all attempted boarders.

This little white bundle of joy, however, was just the job because, lubed up and switched on prior to insertion, it relaxed his muscles as it progressed inwards.

Once in position, he could leave it in there for a considerable length of time without feeling distended and the vibrations were very pleasant as he pleasured himself... or got me to do it for him.

He felt quite comfortable with it fully inserted because the design of the base made him confident that it was going to stop right there and not disappear inside him, providing him with a very pleasurable first experience of battery-operated prostate massaging. He even fell asleep for a while with it up there, he was so relaxed!

Naturally, I had to get in on the act. Personally, I think Ruf's enthusiastic thrusting has stretched my bottom and I fear fecal incontinence in later life because I could hardly feel the blessed thing. I consoled myself with the knowledge that, since I don't have a P spot, we should really have been inserting it into the other hole...

Toy Joy Private Dancer Beginner's Prostate Massager

Ruf and I both had a go with this one too. It was bigger than the white vibrating Nexus Duo but, lubed up and stretched by the other insertion, this disappeared into Ruf quite easily and he enjoyed having me 'rummage' around with it as we tried to locate his prostate whilst he was pleasuring himself. The little hook handle is very clever.

When the tables were turned, the penetrative part is not as long as the average anal dildo but the shape of it felt very nice as he jammed it against my perineum and waggled using the handle. In conjunction with my tulip clit stimulator, it was certainly very pleasant although I'm not sure it was hitting any particularly sensitive pleasure spots.

The 'bottom line' for both these devices is that they were a good introduction to prostate massage for beginners like us and we have continued to incorporate them into our play, both Ruf on his own and the pair of us together.


Sugasm #146

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #147? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Nipple clamps, butt plug, Hitachi - oh my! “Once the plug is in, I’m going to send you on a little walk.”

I discover transcendental orgasm “It was peaceful, and like holding on to a live wire at the same time.”

When We Were Kids: Thoughts on BDSM “The tying was always my favourite part, whether I was the one tied who had to escape, or the one who got to do the tying.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice Like a Prayer - Part 2

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Friday, 12 September 2008

The Sex Education Show

I didn't get around to watching the first in this new series - Channel 4, 8pm Tuesday - until yesterday when I streamed it from 4OD.

It was only when I googled it to get the website addie to share with you that I realised that it had aroused a great deal of controversy with over 40 complaints about its content as well as its time of broadcast before the watershed.

I have to say it did get a bit near the knuckle in certain parts but I think the whole idea is that it is designed to reach our teenagers as well as their parents. It is a show that is covering everything that a young person needs to know - about their bodies, their development, their sexuality and their attitudes towards all of those things. It also allowed them to understand how much their views are shaped by the information with which they are bombarded, both in the media and on the internet.

The first thing which really made me sit up and listen was the fact that there are three different sizes of condoms. Did you know that? Well I certainly didn't. The main reason that everyone hates condoms is because of their unreliability and tendency to split or come off. Well, it would appear that this is because in many cases, the man is wearing the wrong prophylactic for his personal endowment. In order to ascertain your size, you have to measure the girth of your penis when it is erect. 12-13cms is considered average and means that a 'Medium' condom, the majority of those on sale in stores, will fit you. If your penis is over 13cms then you are a 'Large' and under 12cms a 'Small' or 'Snugfit'. Click on the highlights for a link to some of the different brands suitable for you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, we're not talking about length or ability to satisfy in these terms, just making sure that you are wearing a protective sheath that will do its job properly.

There was a section where a trio of 14- and 15-year-old schoolboys were asked about pornography. They all agreed that they looked at stuff on the internet or were sent stuff on their phones. When questioned about the worst thing they had seen, a clip was mentioned (which had been circulated via mobile phone) of two German women 'pooing and wiping it all over each other and vomiting'. When this information was shared with one boy's parents, they seemed quite shocked and when the film was shown to a group of parents later, they were all horrified. This segment of the programme came with advice on how to safeguard your child on the internet so that they cannot access adult sites. The problem with this is that the information was received via mobile phone. It seems a little shortsighted to prevent your child from accessing adult content on the web with a blanket ban when they are still vulnerable to receiving it from their mates on their phones. It worries me because it does not foster an open exchange of information between child and parent. It becomes secretive and dirty. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't find that sort of clip entertaining in any way and I'd really rather my children didn't have to watch it but I think most of them would make that sort of decision for themselves anyway. Me saying it's disgusting is far more likely to make it extra interesting to them... The other problem here is that you would need ALL parents and guardians to take similar action and, in my experience, that would never happen. This means that you have some kids with information but not necessarily all the correct facts talking to your children about stuff which they know you do not wish them to look at and so they will not ask you to ensure they are getting the full picture.

What did worry me was the effect of surgically-enhanced pornstars on the teenagers' perspective of what they should consider normal. Both the boys and a group of girls were shown pictures of flaccid male genitalia of varying sizes and asked to decide which they thought was the most realistic size-wise. They all chose a penis that was 4 or 5 inches long and were shocked to learn that normal was actually the rather wrinkly 3cm example. It was a similar story with pictures of breasts. When shown a couple of normal pairs in 32C and 32F, both genders complained that the boobs looked saggy and had no cleavage. Admittedly they weren't the most attractive tit shots I've ever seen but, when compared to a silicon-bagged beauty of 34D who had beautiful round, symmetrical, tanned globes with a very definite cleavage, naturally they all chose the fake ones as being the most attractive and desirable. It was very interesting to hear one of the boys draw the conclusion that his attitude to physical appearance was being influenced in a bad way by the things he was seeing on the web.

There was another item where a female doctor and a naked man talked about his cock and balls and explained about the body parts and how they should appear but that there was a huge variety of different shapes and sizes down there. It talked about foreskins and non-symmetrical balls. I think it is a clip that I will recommend that my own son watches - not with me of course - because I think he will learn a lot about his body that he might not want to ask his mother.

The item about Anna Richardson trying to put some spice into her own lovelife was very amusing as well as being informative, but probably not really suitable for a programme before the watershed although, again, it comes back to our obsession with making sex secretive and for adults only when clearly our teenagers are doing it anyway and unsafely because they don't have the correct information.

Channel 4 defended the show, saying it was meant to provoke discussion amongst families and said the scene of nudity had clearly been signposted before the start.

"Whilst we did receive a small number of complaints we also received some very positive feedback," a spokeswoman said.

"The series is aimed at families and we hope it will act as a starting point for a family discussion about the important issues raised.

"The show was preceded with warnings about content and scenes featuring nudity were flagged prior to each part of the hour-long show."

A Channel 4 source added the number of complaints had been relatively small for such a potentially controversial show.

This programme is clearly titled the 'Sex Education Show'. Parents with children under the age of 14 would be wise to study the Radio Times for clues like that. Parents with children over that age need to ask themselves what their kids might already have a sketchy and incorrect knowledge of and whether exposure to such a programme can give them information that could be very important to them over the coming years.

If you're somewhere in the middle, you can watch it yourself - as I did - and give them the website so they can peruse some of the more relevant articles for themselves.

Thursday, 11 September 2008

HNT - Feet

I have very strange fingers and toes. Well not all of them. Just my big toes and the first two fingers of each hand. The joints of each are somehow twisted so that my finger up to the knuckle is straight but above that point it is twisted so that my nails point outwards rather than straight up.

As a child, I would spend hours trying to twist them back. It was one of the first things Ruf noticed about my feet - well that and the hated pink nail polish. The only colour he likes is black, which is strange because my toenails were painted that shade for virtually the entirety of my teens. These days, mostly they remain unpainted.

Somehow, it didn't seem appropriate to be naked on this day. I remember standing awestruck in front of the television in the kitchen as the tragic events unfolded and, even now, I feel compelled to watch programmes about the horror. The amazing bravery of so many people in a familiar world reduced to a landscape that was unrecognisable and so totally terrifying.

Last night the focus was the 9/11 Hotel and its guests on that fateful day. The Marriott World Trade Centre, nestled below and between the Twin Towers, took the full force of their collapse and yet some people still survived. Unbelievable courage and tenacity and luck.

It puts my silly superficial concerns about my fingers and toes into a whole new perspective.


Tuesday, 9 September 2008


He scared her...

Or, let's be more accurate, her feelings for him scared her.

He was the archetypal charmer. Females of all ages fell at his feet swooning; ipso facto, the list of his conquests was long.

And, despite her apparently cool exterior, she was not totally immune.

For what woman would not want to be handled by an expert? A man who could seduce her with the honeyed words dripping from his tongue, coating her in a warm marinade of approval as he promised his unrelenting physical attentions in the pursuit of his goal. It was an almost irresistible package.

So, when the thrust and parry of the game had reached its peak, she climbed the stairs to the allotted hotel room - just as they had both always known that she eventually would.

Growing ever closer to the moment of truth, her resolve engaged her desire in a fierce hand-to-hand struggle... and her good sense lost.

Using the key that he had left for her at Reception, she willingly entered his lair and stepped into the centre of the room to meet his appraising stare.

The hunter and his prey.

Eyeing each other speculatively; both considering the next move in this long-running battle, knowing the precarious position of the Queen and that the denouement was in sight.

The time for combat was almost over.

After some minutes, with a soft sigh, she dropped her gaze, as the realisation dawned that he would not lull her into a false sense of security and then pounce. This predator would not permit her the self-justification of being taken. Would not allow her the excuse of coercion.

Sitting in the chair, lounging carelessly, he watched her humiliation. Waited, finally, for her to accept and submit.

He had seen so many pictures of her in various states of undress but, still, he was unprepared for the luminous whiteness of her skin. Unnerved, he observed her as she complied with his instructions and removed every last item of clothing. Saw the conflicting emotions play themselves out across her face and smiled at the tears as they trickled down her cheeks in distress at her betrayal.

Until she stood there, naked and alone. Slight, pale and totally at his mercy.

It was then that the cold heartless brute behind his strategic Mastery released him and, before she knew what was happening, he was on his knees before her. His face pressed against the soft flesh of her belly. His own eyes leaking with emotion at the prospect of a wish fulfilled.

She had made him work for it but, in the end, she had set aside her principles, made the choice and come to him.

Undressed and offered herself.

In his mind, he swept the pieces from the board.

Mate was about to follow Check and he was victorious.

Kissing her hip tenderly, he allowed his fingers to instigate the job in hand, completely unaware that, before the game had ever begun, she had obtained a crucial permission...

Monday, 8 September 2008