Girl, you know its true

I feel like I have wandered out of the 1980's (not a vintage decade, contrary to popular 'fashion'). Weirdly enough, I bumped into two people from that era today (now waiting for number three to come up and bite me on the arse (well, spank would be better, but can't afford to be picky in this day and age)). Anyway, one guy was when I was on my way to the gym (eek, sorry what was your name again?) and another was in my gym. We stared at each other, as you do, and realised that it would be better to just, you know, stare, than actually talk and have to compare notes about the following two decades. (Well, that's my excuse anyway, as for him, god knows).

It got me thinking whilst I was miles away (well, only four today, stamina not up to what it used to be, ahem), how innocent those years were. Don't get me wrong, they were also filled with rampant sex, drug and alcohol fuelled escapades, listening to Hendrix or Acid House as loud as the speakers would go, but also they were easy. Simple even.

I remember this boy. He was the world to me (and if the world had ended, I didn't care, because he was in my arms). His smile would light up his face like the sun. His eyes sparkled like they were on fire. We would lie on our backs arm in arm together in the park, listening to Soul II Soul on his walkman and watch the stars in the night sky, truly believing in the "a happy face, a thumping bass, for a lovin race" philosophy of the time. Simple pleasures. When did it all get so complicated?

Worrying about:
Work
Sex Drive
'Settling down'
Kids
Mortgages
Love

I don't want the burden of the world on my shoulders, but I miss debating the world's burden. I miss talking for hours on end about life, the world and our place in it. I miss having that magic where two people can finish each others sentences and yet are also totally comfortable with the silence that wondering about the world creates. Where they can laugh knowing that whatever lies ahead is exciting and new, not unknown and fearful. Where being in love seemed pure. Light. Beautiful. Nothing seemed to matter back then. Life was simpler.

Plus of course, back then, I was entirely ignorant as to the levels of my newly found sex drive, which meant my love affairs were entirely cerebral, something I also miss. Now however, I sometimes feel like a slave to my own body, following it from one pleasure-seeking-chase to another, not ever really stopping to listen to my brain quietly shouting 'no!' whilst my pussy screams 'yes!' much louder. I guess I should pay attention to what's upstairs a little more often, I might make some better decisions in my life...

So, with that in mind, sing with me:

Back to life
Back to the present time
Back from a fantasy

but let's not discuss my fluorescent yellow leg warmers...

Loaded Weapon

I don't know if it is because:

My 2 hour (!) Bully Wank at 3am this morning didn't fulfill me totally
or
that it's been a month since I have had sex
or
that I have only had three hours sleep and my body is mutinying against me
or
that I have had no time to play today
or
I have had too much Merlot tonight

but I knew it was going to be a tough day when my pussy was soaking wet before I even got on the tube to go out tonight.

So I'm out with my mate JN, and we're getting merry and talking about sex as we do. He'd been having a dry patch recently too, but that has now cleared up: he has a new fuck buddy and she sounds hot. He tells me about their third meeting:

"So I knock on her door and she opens it."

Me: "What's she wearing?"

He: "Does it matter? (sees my disappointed look) Oh ok, a tight top and a short skirt. So anyway I walk in, shut the door behind me, and say to her, 'bend over'"

Me: "And??"

He: "And she bends over. I walk up to her and can see she has no underwear on."

Me: "Oh fuck! What did you do? Stick it in her?"

He: (Grinning) "No. That's what she was expecting, and I don't want her to take me for granted. So I lifted her skirt up and started licking her instead"

Me: (Clapping my hands) "Ha ha! You bad boy! And?!"

He: "Oh you know, I stuck my tongue inside her and she went crazy, started begging me to stick my cock in..."

Me: "And did you? Please tell me you did, you cruel bastard..."

He: "Yeah. I walked her over to the couch, bent her over again, pulled up her skirt and slid it in."

Me: "I bet she came straight away..."

He: (proudly): "Of course, but she came even harder when I slapped her arse cheeks and fingered her hole."

Me: "Mmm.."

So we're sitting there and I am thinking:

JN is my mate
We are friends
Sex would fuck things up

But, I am also SO fucking horny. The whole time he was describing his shag I was getting wetter and wetter. I am regretting not having had time to play before meeting JN; usually my failsafe option of not doing something I will regret later - leaving the house with a throbbing pussy is a dangerous thing... But my rational brain began to shut down. I start thinking about getting out of my seat and walking over to JN and saying:

"You don't mind if I sit on your lap for a minute, do you? It's ok if I just rest my legs here isn't it, how about I wrap them around your hips? You want to know what that is? I am just a little hot, that's all. Yes that's good. What's that? I have no underwear on? Oh dear, I must have forgotten to put some on, silly me. Comfortable now isn't it? You can feel something damp? That'd be me, I do apologise, how about I rub myself against you and let you absorb some of my wetness? No need to apologise, I like that pressing into me, let me just hoist myself up a little - that's better. Maybe you should place your hands around my thighs for stability. Actually I meant the inside of my thighs. What? They are wet? Well, maybe you should rub your fingers all around there, wouldn't want an accident there would we? Now, how about we unzip that fly, get your cock out and slide it deeply into me, hmm? We could talk about that movie we just saw, no need to discuss the pussy juice flowing out of me as you fuck me with your hard cock now, is there?"

And so on...

And I stay there, throbbing away, soaking wet, stupidly tempted to throw away my friendship, all in one quick moment. But fate looked down upon me tonight: JN's fuckbuddy called and wanted to meet up, so we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. And now I sit here, with another great friend of mine and one whose name means so many different things: my Promise. May our friendship continue indefinitely...

Intimate Personals

Perusing the online 'personals' (purely for scientific research I should add), I happened upon these genuine requests. Which ones do you reckon got lucky?

This one?

"Ladies, this really is quite straight forward. If you are in need of some oral stimulation, send me a message. No shagging or blow-job required in return. The only condition is that you are not a 'minger'"

Or this generous promise?

"If we hit it off let me take you back to my hotel to give you multiple orgasms through oral and good hard sex"

Or this modest offer?

"We are two Good-looking guys looking to fulfil the fantasy of having no strings attached sex with 1 woman. We are both well endowed and have already had a threesome with one girl. We are looking for someone who will take double penetration and 2 in one hole. You must be prepared to be awake for at least seven hours as we both have huge amounts of stamina. Our last conquest didn’t sleep all night and came about 25 times"

Or you could even buy-one-get-one-free with this generous guy,

"If you like the idea of a cute guy pulling out his hard cock and wanking it until he shoots, then get in touch. The thrill's in the performing, but I'm happy to lend you a hand, too, if you wish"

and here's some wishful thinking

"I want sex so mail please, this afternoon would be good! nice fit birds with pics please"

If this is what's out there, I can only live in hope...

These are my thoughts


(1) Visible panty lines should be illegal

I hate seeing flesh cut into two by ill-fitted or badly chosen underwear. There should be classes at school that teach you the right pants to wear under your clothes. Modules could include, what to wear with:

a) Tight seamless jeans - (commando or g-string)
b) Tight seamless hipster trousers - (commando or hipster hotpants)
c) Loose trousers - (commando or fitted briefs)
d) Fitted skirts - (commando or g-string)
e) Loose skirts - (commando, g-string, or fitted briefs)
f) Long dresses - (commando)

Of course this list doesn't include the upgrade options :

Demi-cup brassiere
Tie-string panties
Basque
Teddy
Suspenders
Stockings
Holdups
Crotchless tights

But these could be taught as part of the advanced module available to those who pass the earlier tests.


(2) The pros and cons of differences in cock size (in my opinion)

LARGE COCK PROS

a) It fills me up and I feel like I am getting 'fucked'
b) It pushes against my cervix and stimulates my womb
c) It pulls on my labia and thus indirectly stimulates my clit
d) It looks beautiful when hard underneath jeans
e) In fact it looks beautiful full stop
f) I feel like a girl when I hold it, or put it in my mouth
g) It can reach any position, any angle, any depth

LARGE COCK CONS

a) Being filled up can hurt and prevent me getting fucked hard
b) Pushing against my cervix constantly can be painful and annoying
c) It can rub my labia too intensely making me sore
d) It doesn't rub my g-spot
e) I can't get it all in my mouth
f) It can be more labourious to give a hand job
g) Not all positions can be comfortable
h) Forget about anal: no chance that is gonna fit in there mate

SMALL COCK PROS

a) I can get fucked as hard as I like and want
b) It can rub against my g-spot
c) The length of it can rub against my labia and tickle my clit
d) I can get it all in my mouth without choking
e) Easier to give a hand job - if it fits into one fist
f) Holding it makes me feel powerful
g) It feels wonderful inside my arse

SMALL COCK CONS

a) It doesn't fill me up, sometimes it's hard to feel it
b) It doesn't push against my cervix
c) It doesn't show through jeans when hard
d) I can't feel it pressed up against me with clothes on
e) Using fingers (not whole hand) can be frustrating when stroking it
f) Spooning is impossible
g) As is face-to-face penetration
h) As is standing up

But I really don't give a fuck either way. Cock is cock is cock. Big, small, wide, narrow: they are all the same. If I had to choose, I would say I would like to be with a man who is happy with who he is and what he looks like and isn't afraid to explore his desire or mine than with a guy who was endowed one way or the other.


(3) Masturbation, Sex and Body fluids

(In my experience), it seems that

a) Men produce less fluid the more they climax

and

b) Women produce more

Why?

Answers 9 - 10

9. How many sex toys do you own and which do you prefer?

It all depends on my mood I suppose. My most regularly used toy would be the 6.5" Promise Jelly Vibrator. Can't beat it for simulating penile penetration, plus it has tiny little ridges which stroke your clit whilst you thrust it in and out. Great if you want to feel like you are getting fucked; it's definitely my favourite - I have two of them - and use them together, one in front, one in back when the mood takes me.

In terms of DP, the Anal Intruder jelly vibrator (no link on Ann Summers site) is fun too, though I use it more infrequently due to finding the curves of the toy not conducive to my body. (I'm sure they're the wrong way round). I am tempted to purchase the Dual Explorer to replace this toy and may do so shortly.

I also have two sets of vibrating balls, one metal, one plastic - both do the same job, which is to give a wonderful feeling of fullness inside, whilst stimulating the g-spot area. Very delicious, but I find that I need other stimulation (on my clit) to get me off (unlike the Promise above).

Finally I have one mini vibe. It only has one setting (high) and is way too intense for me for clitoral stimulation, but is fun to use to rub the g-spot. I wouldn't use it for a whole session though, more like a starter before the main course.

Personally I am more into penetrative toys, than external (clitoral) ones, hence my not owning a Rabbit (I tried one and disliked it). But I am looking into importing a Hitachi Magic Wand from the USA (hey anything that says it'll give you an orgasm in under 60 seconds is worth trying in my book). If anyone has got any experience of this toy, I'd be interested in getting some feedback on it...


10. Did it ever cross your mind to escort?

When I first received this question, I was very insulted. I thought:

"Typical. A woman writes about her sexual desires, thoughts and experiences and a man jumps to the (ignorant) conclusion that therefore she should work in the sex industry."

And I was about to delete the email immediately. But something in me made me reread it and when I did, I saw that this reader had added:

"I am not trying to suggest that you should do it, 'recruit' you or or anything weird, I am intrigued to know what the decision process might be for a girl to do that. You have all the attributes for success:

1. a voracious sexual appetite
2. a great body
3. from the oblique views, you seem gorgeous
4. you are bright and funny (the real clincher for long-term success BTW!)

so it might have crossed your mind."

And then I thought to myself: good question. Now, can I answer it?

So I have spent the better part of two weeks pondering this question: Would I ever sell my body for money? My immediate gut response is most definitely "No", but I wanted to do this question some justice, so I have tried to look at it with a more open mind.

My feelings about prostitution are mixed. Sure I can read Belle De Jour and feel sisterly support, but could I do her job? Could I undress in front of a man I don't know, pleasure him sexually and then take payment for it? Enjoying sex is one thing; fucking someone as part of a financial transaction is quite another and that brings up a lot of issues for me:

The sexualising and objectifying of women (and girls) in society.
The gender inequality that it's usually (bar the odd Rentboy), women supplying, and men purchasing the sex.
That as women we still don't have sexual freedom in society - we have hypocritical stereotypes that we are labelled with: the slut, the virgin, the sex fiend. How could I give away something that is mine - my sexuality and desire - and accept money in return for it?

But this is capitalism for you: with demand, you need a supply and there are many many women ready to supply this service of sex in return for financial gain. In fact, one could argue that there is something almost Marxist about their profiteering: they own their means of production, there is no surplus labour, and there is no boss exploiting them (I am talking here about escorts, not street walkers with pimps, nor women/girls who have been trafficked into the UK and forced to have sex against their will).

Years ago, I used to think that all prostitution was exploitational and that it should be made illegal. That the men who bought sex were sick despicable fuckers and should be jailed. But getting to know someone (a dominatrix) who worked in the sex industry made me rethink that view somewhat. I watched my friend at work once and I saw that she did not feel exploited with what she did for her client. If anything, she was exploiting him - charging him hundreds of pounds to be punished, degraded and humiliated. Although I did not like the extreme things she was doing to him (which I may blog about in detail at some point) I saw how normal it seemed to her and to him and I thought:

"It's just his sexual fetish. He can't get it anywhere else. What's wrong with that?"

And I realised that it wasn't that far removed from 'regular' prostitution: a client getting (his) sexual needs satisfied, the sex worker making some (good) money in the process. So why do I still feel uncomfortable with it?

I guess that I still feel some disgust with the men who purchase sex, even though some of my male friends have hired escorts. But it makes me angry that it is men who always have the option of buying, women rarely have the same. We always seem to be selling ourselves, why not the other way round? Some people might argue that historically it's only men who have such 'strong' sexual urges that need to be urgently satisfied, that they always want sex and will pay for it if they have to, and that us women don't or wouldn't. For anyone that has read my blog, you and I both know that that is total bollocks. If it was widely available and socially acceptable, I would pay for it too. If it's gonna be for sale there should be some equality in whats on offer - and there most definitely isn't.

One can't deny that there is a male heterosexist hegemony in terms of what's out there, not just in purchasing sex, but in the entire sex industry. Porn is almost wholly directed at straight (or gay) men and yes I do have a problem with that. Even with the advent of Ann Summers and the new 'girlified' sex shops, we still have porn that objectifies women, makes us inhuman - becoming just an 'orifice' and results in us being supposedly devoid of feeling. Not to mention the child porn, or extremely violent material that seems to have become more and more frequent (and more and more in demand?) Surely we should be doing something to change this? But what? Censorship? Hell no. Make our own porn? Maybe. But having a feminist-porn-manifesto about saturating the entire fucking market with some 'female' porn is a whole other argument (and maybe a future blog post too). What I am here to answer is, could I sell my body in return for money?

(On the lower end of the sex-industry scale) I have imagined what it might be like to be a lap dancer. I have thought about what it would be like to have a man want me, to see him be turned on by me, to be the object of his desire and to be able to walk away. Whether this would turn me on, or repulse me. (Both). I have wondered whether being on display this way would just be an extension of my exhibitionist tendencies, or whether I would find it degrading being like a piece of meat on display. And I tried to imagine what I would do if during an intimate dance, I felt the man's desire growing. Whether I would want to reciprocate. Fuel my desire too. Get something in return for my burning pussy. And that this is not that far removed from removing all my clothes, inserting his cock into me and fucking him. Lap dancer to escort, not a huge leap in my mind.

So, what's the big deal? Well, I suppose it comes down to this. The man is the customer. I would be providing a service. My desire is not part of that service, nor would be my satisfaction. The only objective in escorting: (1) to get the client off and (2) to get paid. And it is these two things which disturb me the most.

(1) Because although I adore satisfying my sex partners, I believe in absolute equality in bed. That is: I need and should, get off too. I would not be at all happy if he is the only one getting pleasure. I understand that most prostitutes fake a climax so the client feels 'adequate'; I have not and will not ever fake an orgasm. And certainly not to stroke some guys ego. No point in having sex unless I am gonna get some pleasure too. Call me selfish - that's how I am.

(2) I just don't feel I could deal with accepting money for sexually satisfying someone. Pleasuring someone comes naturally to me. To bring money into the equation confuses things: I don't think I could possibly maintain a (non-fee paying) loving sexual relationship with someone after fucking for money. If anything, it would fuck my head up. And seeing as how I love sex so much, I wouldn't want anything to affect that - or my ability to have great sex with someone.

In conclusion then: whilst the sex industry is not for me, still having lots of sex is. I won't be selling sex as a commodity, but I shall try to understand and support the women who do. And I shall continue being the woman I am, loving sex because I love sex, the only transaction taking place being the consensus between myself and my partner that we are gonna have fun, no matter what...

Answers 6 - 8

6. Does anyone you know read your blog? What would you do if your anonymity was compromised?

Actually I believe my friend K briefly stumbled upon my blog recently (she clicked on a link on a blog that I had suggested she read). She said she knew it was me because she recognised some details I had posted regarding SP. I got freaked. We had a long debate about how I felt vunerable and scared about her knowing so much about me, whilst she was insulted and hurt that I didn't want her to read about my thoughts. K tried to console me that she stopped reading it almost immediately and could no longer find the link as she had deleted the email I had sent her about the other blog. Although she recalled there was a "Girl" in the title of mine, she promised me not to go searching for it, and I (sort-of) believe her.

I would hate to end blogging because someone found out who I am, but I would do so immediately that they did. It's not that my friends don't know I love sex, it's the extent that I love it that I wish them not to know. They already shift uncomfortably when the discussion turns to sex; I don't want them to be too embarrassed to talk to me - as they would if they knew I worte this blog. And as for my colleagues: well, lets just say my career would be over. And no, I am not exaggerating. I wouldn't be able to show my face again on set if people knew this was how pre-occupied I was with sex - I would never hear the end of it. So, anonymity it is, and long may it last...


7. What thought/s turn you on/off whilst masturbating?

I can categorically say that if for some absurd reason a thought regarding a member of my family enters my brain during playtime, the button from mind to clit does get switched off. But only temporarily; I am good at attention switching - I'll change my thought process immediately to one that switches me back on and continue where I left off.

With regards to what turns me on - well how long is a piece of string? I mean, anything and everything turns me on, from my last partner, to the guy on the train, to the woman in the porno, to the fat smelly builder who I find repulsive but I bet his cock in my mouth would ooh yes, aaaah, mmm, let me just rub and..... you see? Anything.

In terms of what material I use to get me off, first and foremost I would have to say my mind. I am much dirtier than anything else I see around me and have multitudes of scenarios in my brain that I pick and choose to stimulate me. Some of the stuff in my 'bank' are real-life experiences re-played for my satisfaction, others are fantasies that I might enact someday. I like to think of my mind as an infinite scratch-free, DVD collection, free to use and with 24 hour access. I also use porn, mostly still pictures off the internet (dial-up prevents me becoming a video download addict, for which I am mildly thankful), plus the occasional magazine, erotic book and the regular surfing of sex blogs for material.

Too many scenarios to talk about what thoughts turn me on specifically, but it would be fair to say that of my wanking:

65% involves 1 guy and me (MF)
17% involves 2 guys and me (MMF)
10% involves 1 guy, 1 girl and me (MFF)
5% involves 2 guys, 1 girl and me (MMFF)
2% involves 1 girl and me (FF)
1% involves 2 guys (MM)

And within all of the above, a good smattering of D/s, bondage, spanking and handcuffs (preferably all used on me!)


8. What fantasies have you not dared to explore?

There are two that spring to mind at the moment:

a) Group sex
b) Public sex (dogging)

a) I have had the priviledge of watching more than a dozen people having sex in a room. Only four of them were involved with each other, the others were just being exhibitionists. It was easily the sexiest, most horny thing I have ever seen. The atmosphere was electric, the smell of sex was in the air, and the walls dripped with the combined sweat of all the couples' exertion. It was hot dammit, in every sense. To the left of me, three couples: Couple 1 - she was wanking him off, Couple 2 - he was kneeling between her legs, licking her pussy, Couple 3 - she was straddling his cock. To the right of me, four couples: Couple 4 - he was fucking her doggie style in the centre of the room, Couple 5 - she was riding his cock on the floor, Couple 6 and 7 - a mish mash of boys and girls sucking, licking and fucking. And me, sitting on the ground, with my mate, just watching. And my pussy was throbbing - calling to my hand to rub it. But I was too embarrassed to do anything, let alone join in. So I let it throb - all night - until I got home and gave it a good old seeing to.

Ever since watching this, I have wanted to participate in it, partly because I want to be watched having sex, (I'll be the girl in the middle of the floor/stage getting fucked hard!) but also because I want to experience playing with others in the group situation. I am still pretty scared about doing it, but if/when I meet the right person/partner, I hope they will want to too and that we can discover this aspect of sex together...

b) Dogging is something I am not sure I will ever do, but I fantasise about this all the time. Fucking my partner in public, on show, people getting off to it - that I like. But the thought of some random stranger peering into my car window to watch my partner fucking me, scares me. Even more, the idea that this stranger might stick his cock into the car, hoping I would give it a little suck, makes me feel repulsed and yet weirdly horny at the same time. I'm not quite sure I could handle this particular fantasy in real life and I find it odd that something that turns me off can also turn me on at the same time. Anyone else think this is strange? I'd like to know your thoughts on this...

Answers 9 - 10 to follow soon

Answers 3 - 5

3. What inspired you to write Girl with a one track mind?

Up until October last year I was a blog virgin. I had neither read nor written a blog. That is until someone recommended Belle. Hers was the first blog I ever read, and I was immediately hooked. I checked it every day for updates; I looked forward to reading about her daily life, her trials and tribulations and as well as adoring her unique outlook on the world. I admired her for being so open and honest about sex - something I related to instantly and I found myself becoming more open to the idea about exploring my views on sex within the blog format. I figured if she could do it (so brilliantly I must add), then why the hell couldn't I?

It took me a few months to pluck up the courage and to figure out what 'angle' I wanted to approach my writing with. In all honesty I did a lot of soul searching regarding the level of explicitness that I would allow myself to express in the blog: at the time I felt quite ambivalent about writing something that could be perceived as erotic. But I also felt compelled to write my thoughts down; here was a way of expressing myself, of finally being able to say 'I adore sex' and not have to worry what people thought of me because of my anonymous status. And I have found it freeing. Wonderfully cathartic. I would recommend it to anyone. And like I said recently, I never expected people to actually read it, and certainly not return, once they had read it. But I guess everyone likes to get off...

Which brings me neatly to:

4. Why do you think people read your blog? Is it because it's 'one for the bank' or is it because they want to know more about you?

I think on the whole, people read my blog for the erotica within it. I imagine a certain majority of readers surf and read, and surf and read, and do it to get off; my blog is just one of those that stimulates along the way - and it's nice to know my words have an effect on people. I think another group of readers who also enjoy my blog for the erotica, visit (semi)regularly, because they like my thoughts and writing style, (plus it gives them 'something for the bank'). And lastly the readers who want to know more about me. God knows why they think I might be an interesting person behind all the compulsive masturbating, but they do. Sometimes I feel like I have truly exposed myself - emotionally - in this blog, and these readers continually offer support and understanding, which is always greatly appreciated.

And although I said yesterday that I was only going to answer two questions, I shall now renege on that:

5. Is your blog porn?

When I first started writing, the thought of anyone having their cock (I assume my readers are most likely to be men) in their hands made me feel repulsed. I mean, people wanking over me/my thoughts? No thank you. And although I knew that the whole medium I have chosen (internet) and the title I chose (Girl with a one track mind) are both totally submerged in sex, I felt snobbish about wanting to be a 'writer' who was expressing herself, rather than a porn merchant who was trying to get cheap and quick results by talking about sex.

But I had to talk about sex. That is ME. And the whole reason I took up writing this blog was so I could express myself freely. So, at the beginning, I just took it in my stride, acknowledged I was gonna have people surfing my blog with one hand and I carried on writing what I wanted.

This is not a porn blog. I stand by that. Not that there is anything wrong with writing in that genre whatsoever (I get off on porn blogs regularly), but this blog - my baby - is my thoughts, my feelings, my experiences and although I now know that people might masturbate about me/the blog, I don't write with that objective in mind. If I did, it'd be a lot fucking dirtier I can tell you - I edit and censor this a LOT.

So, in conclusion, if you do come here to play, I hope you have fun. And if you come here for my words for other reasons, then cheers, I hope you enjoy them however you see fit. And thank you for visiting.

Answers to numbers 6 - onwards, tomorrow...

Answers 1 - 2

Thank you for all your questions and comments; I have created a shortlist of ten questions out of the responses sent to me by the readers of this blog. As a few people have asked similar questions, I have altered the wording to accommodate as many queries as possible. Here are the first two:

1. How would you define the difference between friendship and a relationship? Where do 'fuckbuddies' fit in?

For me, sex is the line that is crossed that takes a friendship from a solely intellectual and emotional plane to one that includes physical intimacy too; a mind/soul/body experience if you will. Friends are people that you don't fuck; although there may be sexual attraction in the friendship, you don't cross that line. I don't think it's possible to be in a relationship without being friends, but I do think it's possible to fuck someone you're not friends with.

Which brings me to fuckbuddies. Not as easy to define, the relationship often seem to be very contradictory. I have had fuckbuddies I am friends with; that is we connect on both an intellectual and emotional level, and I have also had fuckbuddies where the connection is purely physical. I think the general mistake people might make when they hear the term fuckbuddy is to assume that its about having sex with your friends. Let me tell you (in my experience), it's bad news crossing that line. I have lost a few friends this way - both male and female. As soon as sex came into it, the friendship broke down, and never regained the closeness that existed before. I learned the hard way, and don't cross that line anymore. Now I would define a fuckbuddy as being someone that I do not socialise with but I have casual sex with on a semi-regular basis. I'm sure other people have different definitions.

2. Whats your most interesting sexual experience with a woman?

I was in a nightclub with P, my ex at the time. We had been split for a while, but still socialised together. He had taken me to a packed out R & B night in central London. We're dancing away to some hip-hop and I notice this woman, an Angel. She was stunning. She stood out a mile. Her smile was so wide, her almond eyes shining, her lovely dark skin was almost luminescent in the ultraviolet light, her straightened long black hair flowed down in a ponytail and swept her rounded ass gently as she moved and her cleavage was to die for. In short she was gorgeous. But, you know, I was with P (who was still 'up for it' if I wanted him), and we were there to have fun together. So I turned away and carried on dancing with him.

Later, I was sitting down resting. I think P had gone to get drinks. And this Angel comes and sits next to me. I couldn't believe it. She starts talking to me, she's drunk or on something, but I chat back. She's flirting with me and before I know it, I realise her hand is on my knee. Wow. I could hardly move. But she's laughing away and when she moves it up my thigh, I don't complain. I remember JS coming back and me introducing her to him, and then everything happened in a flash. She grabbed my hand, told me to follow her and we made our way to the women's toilets.

So, we're in this cubicle together, she's sitting down smoking, I'm standing over her, and I'm thinking

'What am I doing?'

and we're both laughing away, easy as anything. And then she grabbed me and pulled me to her and then we're kissing and I'm thinking

'Ah yes, this is what I'm doing. I'm kissing a girl in the toilets in a club. And not just any club, a straight R & B club, possibly the most homophobic environment you'll get. And I'm the only white girl in here, and am I gonna get my ass kicked when I get out of here? And what will JS think? And god, her tongue feels so fucking delicious in my mouth...'

And I just went with it. I found myself straddling her and she's kissing my neck, I'm stroking her shoulders. Then I feel her hands on my ass, pulling me towards her, and I get close. But not close enough. We end up standing. She pushes up against me, her thigh in between my legs, mine in between hers. I can feel our breasts touching. Let me tell you, that is hot. I understand why straight guys like breasts. I like breasts. But feeling them up against you - well, it's just fucking hot. And we're pressing against each other, I can feel my nipples harden. And then she reaches up and squeezes my breast. Wow. Electricity runs through my entire body and and adds to the burning sensations between my legs. She rips my top off, unhooks my bra and brings both her hands to my chest, cupping my tits in her fingers. So sexy. I did the same with her, and for a while we rub our breasts against each other, naked flesh against naked flesh. We ended up licking sucking and rubbing each other until we were rudely interrupted by her friends banging on the door and demanding she came out. We quickly dressed and exited shortly afterwards, Angel making some excuse about us 'having a smoke' and we went our separate ways (not before she gave me her phone number though).

So I went to find P, who was thoroughly annoyed at having been dumped over a girl, but we worked it out, and we're friends to this day. And Angel? Well, I did call her, but she was freaking out about how her homophobic Jamaican family and friends would be with her, and begged me not to call her again. A shame - I felt sorry for her. Having to hide who she was with those closest to her - I hope she has come out of the closet today. Plus of course I was disappointed not to have got to explore that glorious body of hers further...

Answers 3 - 4 tomorrow

Excuses excuses

Top 10 reasons I give people to explain why I am not able to speak/see them (when they interupt me wanking):

1. I am on the telephone
2. I am on the other telephone
3. I am on the toilet
4. I am in the shower
5. I am in the middle of preparing breakfast/lunch/dinner
6. I am in the middle of getting dressed
7. I am in the midst of some paperwork
8. I am having a nap
9. I am on my way out
10. I need to send an urgent email
11.* My work related excuses to follow in another post...

Anyone find these familiar? I'd be interested to know yours...



*Final deadline for questions: 24 hours time. Please email me whatever subject or topic you would like me to explore/explain and if it makes it into the shortlist, you shall see an answer to it here on the blog shortly. Thank you to those of you so far who have written to me. Some great questions! Look forward to reading some more shortly...

Because I feel like it...

Addicted...

I am beginning to think there is something wrong with me. I cannot keep my hands from straying between my legs at the moment. Not that there is anything wrong with this normally, but the frequency of masturbation in my life right now is becoming somewhat annoying.

I don't know if this is a result of the winter nights drawing close, the lack of work to fill my time, or whether the break-up with SP is having a physiological (as well as an emotional) effect on me, but whenever I

Wake up
Shower
Feel hungry (for food)
Am bored
Have excess energy
Watch tv
Think about SP
Attempt to clean my flat
Write an email
Cat nap
Talk on the telephone
Try to run some errands
Go to sleep

my pussy starts throbbing and I end up masturbating - and not doing the task at hand (so to speak). And although the climaxes are enjoyable, they seem only to be temporary: once they are over, I feel nothing. In fact, worse than that, I feel empty. Low. Sad. But, like an addict, I crave this short-lived pleasure and want it to last longer; I yearn for the relief that only the next 'fix' will bring me.

Of course this makes me worry that I might be a an addict of sex: a sexaholic, but my symptoms seem to be borderline - my (masturbatorary) behaviour may be compulsive, but my other sexual relationships aren't. I can say 'no' (sometimes) and I don't seek out dangerous, or risky sex with strangers (like most sexaholics).

Nevertheless, I still am not happy with my present state. Readers might enjoy the thought of my fingers being permanently sticky, and of course I love playing with myself, but when it gets to the point where it prevents you from doing the things you need to do, you have to ask yourself 'how much is too much?'


*Final deadline for questions: 48 hours time. Please email me whatever subject or topic you would like me to explore/explain and if it makes it into the shortlist, you shall see an answer to it here on the blog shortly. Thank you to those of you so far who have written to me. Some great questions! Look forward to reading some more shortly...

Power and Dominance...

Some answers: well not officially a response to your questions, which I am still collating and awaiting more of. No, this post is more an answer to myself, to a question that has been swimming round my head for a while now:

When was it that I first became interested in being submissive in bed?

And I racked my brain and thought back. Before SP. Before the masochism that was being with B. Before my experience in an S & M dungeon, before my Domming a partner with whips, belts, hard smacks and handcuffs, even before my roleplaying where I 'took advantage' of a partner 'against his will'. No, now I remember, it was with a cop.

I had been on a demo in central London. It was mostly a peaceful affair, each side keeping their distance. But as usual, the police decided to bring in the heavies, and replace their uniformed officers with the baton-wielding, armoured up riot shielded variety who then proceeded to lock groups of us into sectioned off positions in the West End. Now, I've been up against these guys before - many times. And you don't fuck with them. No sir. And I should know: I've had my head kicked in and been hospitalised just by standing at the front of a march. Anyhow, we weren't there to start trouble: we were begging for peace. So, I did what anyone would do: I walked through the crowds, pushed my way to the frontline, strolled into the no-mans-land that was 20 foot of tarmac between the demo and the riot police, gritted my teeth and walked up to each and every cop on that frontline and handed every single one, a flower. Yes, I was that girl. I was the one singing:

"All we are saying, is give Peace a chance",

and I knew that at any moment one of them could have given me a knock with his truncheon and I would have been on my knees. But they didn't (though some told me to fuck off). Most of the cops grinned and took the flowers; a few of them actually thanked me. It struck me how fucking futile the whole thing was. Here were some blokes having to stop us protesting, where most of them agreed with what the demonstration was about.

Yes some coppers are people too, only one is a bad apple in a bunch, blah blah blah, but in my book, you put a uniform on anyone and they suddenly start to develop fascistic tendencies. You should see these guys in action, I mean in close-up. The buzz they get from legally being allowed to kick the shit out of someone is frightening to watch, (especially if you're the one at the end of their truncheon, feet, fist etc).

Anyway, I digress. Me, the hippie-girl handing out flowers to coppers. I could hardly believe myself. Had I suddenly gone soft in the head? Why did I even approach them? I mean, they pretty much stand for everything I don't agree with: protection of capitalist property, defending the ruling classes interests, and being an organisation filled with right-wing sexist, racist, assholes. So why did I find it such a thrill?

I thought about it a lot that night, even when I was in some internet chat room talking about the demo with others, sharing in the collective fury at having been stuck in cordoned off areas for hours on end. And then this bloke joins in the discussion, quietly knowledgeable - a little too knowledgeable. At first I thought he was an activist, maybe with the Wombles or RTS; he reminded me of people I knew in those movements. But when we entered a private chat room together, I realised that what he knew was one-sided and almost 'state sanctioned' and I could smell Special Branch or at least Special Twig all over him; when I questioned him on how he knew particular bits of information, he finally owned up to being a copper.

I was a knifes edge away from exiting the room then and there. But one thing stopped me. And no, it wasn't about me wanting to get all huggy and friendly with a copper; it was me wanting to get all hot and sweaty with a copper. Our conversation turned into a blazing argument, about politics, the law, socialism, capitalism, you name it. And his opinions were so narrow-minded, I couldn't believe the propaganda he had swallowed and was repeating to me, so ignorant. And to my surprise, with my fury, I got wet. The discussion became more and more heated and before I knew it we were having a hardcore cyber sex session, involving him ripping my clothes off, throwing me on my back, holding me down and fucking me hard (with his cock and er, truncheon).

I could hardly say that we became friends, even though we repeated our online fucking numerous times over many months, but there was definitely a mutual interest there: for me, the thought of having sex with a policeman was absolutely abhorrent to me, but yet totally thrilling at the same time. Not because of the uniform (yawn), but because of the power he wielded. His status, his dominance, his ability to abuse me, hurt me and arrest me, turned me on and I became almost addicted to the thought of being under his total control. And I guess for him, it was the similar thrill of fucking someone you would never touch face to face (unless it was his, er truncheon, against my face).

So I realised that maybe for a long time the idea of being submissive to a man had interested me even though it seemed against everything I believed in politically (especially with my being a feminist). And the way my desire finally manifested itself - having cyber sex with a copper - makes me laugh, now at least, at the time I found it repulsive (and I was ashamed of what I had done for a long time). But now I understand: I don't need or want someone who does have power over me to wield power over me in bed; rather I want to find someone who is my equal, where the status is balanced, where there is mutual respect and love, and then I want them to spank the hell out of me, call me a slut and make me beg for more. That is power, and it's oh so attractive to me...

Keep the questions coming. I shall wait a few more days to give everyone the chance to ask me something they'd like answered (via email please). And will be posting the results shortly. Until then...

Now, where's that truncheon/vibrator?

Celebration time

Ok, admittedly there's not much in the world to be cheery about right now, certainly regarding peace, human rights and the environment.

But here on Camp Sex Fiend, there has been some quiet rejoicing: much to my surprise, this blog has now had over 100,000 visits. Believe me, I am as shocked as the next person; I never thought anyone would want to hear about my thoughts, analysis and descriptions of my sex life, let alone come back and read more.

So, as a way of thanking all of you who did and still do, I would like to offer the only thing that I can to you: more words. But this time, you get to choose what I say...

Yes, that's right. Send me (via email only, not in the comments box) whatever question/s you would like me to answer, on whatever topic strikes your fancy (erm, or anywhere else). I will pick ten of the best questions, list them on a post (or two) and answer them as descriptively and authoritatively as I can.

It's your call...

I cum in Peace

If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the planet...

(Wish I had thought of it!)

Lets all sign up!

x

Fed up

It seems like every woman has them. They walk around, happily content, parading them down the street, not knowing how difficult it is for some of us to get them. And boy, have I been looking a long time. I know I have 'needy' and 'desperate' written all over my face. I sit at home at night thinking about them, wanting them, desiring them. And I am still no closer to finding them.

I am of course talking about getting some black leather knee high boots. I have now visited more than 20 shops, ranging from the cheapest (Shoe Express) to the outrageous (Jimmy Choo). A grand total of two shops had my size. TWO! And neither of them fitted. Or let me be more specific: they fitted my foot, but had huge gaping spaces at the sides dwarfing my calves within them. I looked like a young girl wearing her mothers boots. Now, I know I ain't no skinny model with stick-thin legs (and I wouldn't want to be thank you very much), but 2-inch gaps between the inside of the boots and my calves? What's going on there?

It seems two things are going on:
1) That ALL the fucking shoe/boot manufacturers believe that all women (should) have small feet - up to size 7.
2) That ALL the fucking shoe/boot manufacturers believe that those women with large/r feet must therefore have HUGE calves too.

I mean for fucks sake! You wouldn't believe the amount of times I have actually been laughed at by sales assistants purely by asking for a size 8. And today this fuckwit in Selfridges told me, after he offered me a suede version of the boot which I liked in leather and he didn't have in an 8:

"You can't afford to be too picky being a size 8 you know"

And then suggested I try the designer boots, who could order in my size especially, at the cheap cost of £450, rather than the £90 that everyone else can get their boots for.

And I almost hit him. Why the fuck should I have to buy something I don't want because that's ALL they have? I am being discriminated against because of my foot size, and I don't see why I should have to spend extortionate amounts of money (I'm not rich remember), just to get my size.

Anyway, I am still bootless. And just a tad pissed off. If anyone has any suggestions (minus the fetish-shop route) about where to buy some black leather round-toed, spiky heeled boots in a size 8 (42), I would be forever indebted to you.

So, there I was wandering round Oxford Street, feeling furious, ready to fight (or fuck) someone. I decided a change of mood was in order and I popped into Harmony, to see what new stuff they've got in, for a quick cheer me up. And boy, did I get cheerful.

Things have changed a lot since I first visited a sex shop more than a decade ago. Back then it was all moody and dark, there were limited numbers of toys, lots of "massagers", nothing to rub against your clit though, and there was a really seedy feel to the places. Even in Ann Summers. I felt like I was the only woman who ever visited those places: I never saw another woman in there, only men (yes in raincoats), who would give me the weirdest stares when I perused the magazines alongside them. I always felt so uncomfortable there and when I bought something, it would be because it was the nearest thing, it's packaging was non-offensive and simple, and it looked small enough to use. Then I would rush out, embarrassed by what I was doing: buying something to assist my masturbating. No girl ever did that! Or at least, that's how I felt in those places back then.

But now - wow. It's so great. There were heaps of women in Harmony. On their own, in couples, in groups, with their partner. And enjoying themselves. Talking about the toys openly. One girl to the sales assistant:

"So, if I turn that, it'll make it press my clit harder?"

Another woman talking to her mate:

"That rubs your G-spot - it'll make you cum, hard".

And so on. These women were proud of their sexuality. Of their desire. Of the fact that they were going to go home, put in some batteries and masturbate to their hearts content. And not be ashamed of it. Seeing this today made me think about how far we have come as women. That finally we might be able to explore our thoughts, our desires, our bodies, and be open about it too. These women were not "Girls with one track minds", they were your regular, normal, girl-next door females and they were still gonna go home and wank. For themselves, not for the pleasure of anyone else. Self-pleasure for women as an everyday thing - I love it!

Speaking of which...