Hand in my pants

Originally published in Express Magazine on 11th May 2012.  This is not the picture originally included with the article!

Hooray for May! While it’s rapidly heading into the chilly season, I happen to be flinging off my clothes rather than wrapping up warmly. Why? Because it’s International Masturbation Month, and I want easy access to my nether regions!

Not that I don’t wank the rest of the year, of course – but come May I ramp up the intensity considerably. The rest of my spelunking-related-activities increase too. I suspect by the end of the month everyone will be sick of me talking about jilling, writing about rubbin’ the nubbin, whinging about my aching fingers, hunting for more batteries and taking up all the outlets recharging my toys – not to mention asking if everyone else is blissing off as well.

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A brief break from wanking to bring you an update

It’s been a busy seven days since my first Wankfest 2012 update, but it’s not, unfortunately, just been from the masturbation. If anything, those frequent breaks for self-pleasure have been welcome pauses in amongst everything else – so that’s all good by me!

If you haven’t been keeping up with my spreadsheet, it’s a good way of seeing how I’ve been getting my rocks off. What I’ve been fantasising about, erotica I’ve been reading, and toys I’ve been using. My fingers have also been getting an excellent workout – both they and my clit are really feeling the effects! Despite creating rather a lot of my own, I’ve also been using lubricant in liberal amounts (I do recommend water-based ID Glide – we keep a pump bottle by the bed, and it’s so damned handy), and that keeps things nice and slick and slippery.

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Bring on the wanks

It’s that time of year again – May is International Masturbation Month! In 2008 I challenged myself to wank every day in May, and blogged about it as I went. It was exhausting, but worth it! In 2010 I did it again, but upped the ante by not reusing any toy or product (or even my fingers, more than once) in the quest for self-pleasure.

It’s 2012, and this this seems to be becoming a bit of a biannual tradition …

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Sodom: Well stocked

What do you want? At Sodom everyone knows what you want – or what you think you want – it’s why you’re all there. Still, you don’t always get it. Chances are pretty high, instead, that you’ll get what you need.

**

The evening wasn’t going quite as Linus had planned. True, Caroline had looked good enough to fuck, all wide-eyed in her cage; and sliding that heavy metal plug into her arse beforehand had made his cock hard and wanting. But knowing that the person who’d stopped by the cage to talk to her was the owner of Sodom – the Doyenne - someone he’d never seen in all his visits, was somewhat disconcerting. Why now? Why her? Was it a good sign?

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Bite me all over

Biting is a big part of play for me. To be bitten, and to be able to bite in return as well, will reduce me to the primal – growling, lustful and wild. Or alternatively hit my endorphin buttons, so I am reduced to breathless giggles!  For a bonus it also leaves me covered in some pretty epic bruises – which are fun to press upon and feel the bite all over again.

I have some partners who will bite me, but don’t really like to be bitten in return. Apollo has become very good at nipping me over the years, drawing yelps as it still catches me by surprise! Hylas loves to mark me, and is particularly good at bruising the ‘rag-doll’ spots on my shoulders, and gnawing the hell out of my breasts. But the only time I manage to bite him back is if I’ve got him rather well tied down and unable to escape it – and then he whines and whimpers (as if that will stop me…)!

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Sodom: Soaking it up

Sodom is a playground. And so guests are encouraged to play! Try the equipment, have new experiences, make friends, stretch your wings and fly. It’s a safe place to be perverse – and why not? What happens in Sodom stays in Sodom. And if you like it, you can always do it again the next week … 

**

Steam fills the air. Water trickles across the tiles and splashes across the steps. The green plants in the corners soak up the jungle heat.  She soaks it up as well. Hot water. Hot partners. Hot hands. Hot tongues.

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Chill Pleasure

I pull the glass dildo from its fur pouch, and a shiver goes through me as I feel the solid coldness of it. Smooth and rounded, weighted and clear, it holds all the chill of winter within itself.

Other than my questing hand, the rest of me is snuggled deep into flannelette sheets; the winter duvet and two blankets weighs warm atop of me. Resting by my feet is a toasty wheat-bag; another is by my groin. (Over the other side of the bed, Apollo’s feet clasp a hot-water bottle instead. To each their own.)

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As lewd as goats and monkeys

I first read Alan Moore’s thoughts on pornography – not to mention the human obsession with masturbation and fucking, and the history behind all things erotic – back when it was an essay floating around on the internet.  Like all things Alan Moore, it was a bit off-beat, I disagreed with some aspects but agreed with the overall drift, and (most importantly) it made me think.

As a hard-covered book, expanded and edited and chock-full of art both historical and modern? The above still applies. And I get to re-read it, admire it, and ponder more about it.

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Eggceptional Easter Eggstacy

It’s a special time of year

when the Easter Bunny comes

with eggs all in a basket

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Sodom: Impulse moves

The Doyenne had reasons for everything. Even impulsive moves had reasons behind the impulse, and they were considered before that impulse was acted upon. Greeting Caroline had been one such impulse – and going to shake up Arthur would be another.

It was that kind of night. 

**

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