Silent Sex

She sat in the leather chair, sipping her wine and guffawing with laughter as her friend continued to explain about her exploits the night before; all the time with a subtle eye on him.

He stood at the bar, leaning towards the barmaid, intent on showing some interest in the tedious conversation but managing to maintain a polite regard whilst glimpsing her in the mirror in front of him.

It wasn’t the first time.

It wasn’t the first time he had watched her without her knowledge.

But he knew that she was looking at him.

He’d known that before tonight as well.

They had passed one another in the street, on the way to the train station. They’d occasionally bumped into one another at the supermarket but not a single word or even a nod of recognition had transpired between them in the four months that she had been living there.

That’s London for you. Your own neighbour, who lives diagonally opposite your own front door and you have no idea what her name is.

She continued to listen to her friend and drank the remnants of her drink before gathering her bag from the floor and walking the short distance to her house. As she walked towards the door, she twisted her head to look but he did not move.

Of course, she didn’t realise he was looking through the bottles into the reflective glass.

He saw every move.

Time for a game!

..............................................................................................................................................

It was a month before when it had first happened.

The sun had been shining through fiercely and she had gone and pulled the curtain to as she clutched the wet towel around her body. As she reached to draw the curtain, she was somewhat shocked to see him brazenly doing the same as she, only fully naked without a single ounce of inhibition. As she shrunk behind the curtain, she watched as he raised his arms high into the air, taking a deep breath and relaxing into the day. He looked in both directions up the sunlit street before turning his back to the outside world and walking away from his exhibitionism.

She had stood for some time, in disbelief at the gloriously exciting sight she had just experienced. Had he known what he was doing? Did he worry that he might have been seen? Did he see her looking? She didn’t think so but she was wrong. Four fingers clutching the curtain had given her away, and he’d seen instantly as he turned his stare down the road to his left.

The following day, the same thing happened, only this time he leant his hands on the window sill as though to give her a better look at his flaccid but wonderfully strong cock.

The four fingers remained clutched to the curtain in her bedroom but she held her other hand firmly around her right breast, covered once more in the moist towel.

Every day for the entire week the same thing happened. He walked to the window, revealed himself without flashing. Every day for an entire week, she felt the stirring in her own body; a reminder of her sexual arousal.

And then there was nothing; days without a glimpse.

Perhaps he was away from home, but no, there he was drawing the curtains with a towel wrapped around his waist, hiding the excitement of the previous week.

By now she longed to get another glimpse of that cock.

But he was game playing. He’d seen those fingers and he’d imagined, hoped he knew what the other hand was doing as he exposed himself to his neighbour. He’d seen her clasp her breast and wondered how long it was before she mirrored his lack of concern and dropped the towel to the floor.

Anticipation greeted her with her alarm and she found that the first thing she was doing each morning was to walk to the window in hope.

She kept waiting and he kept holding back.

Nothing.

And then all of a sudden, a couple of weeks later, the curtain withdrew just at the expected time.

Her eyes stretched wide and she felt her body moisten as she looked in astonishment as he held his cock in his hand. He reached down and cupped his balls and then turned and left the voyeurist alone.

She threw herself down onto the bed, released the towel and pushed a finger or two into her already wet pussy. The mixture of her sexual juices with the clean water from the shower made a delicious and refreshing feeling in her groin. She removed her fingers and rolled the towel into a hard ball that she used to rock her clitoris to orgasm.

Perhaps she ought to reciprocate. Perhaps she ought to give him something in return, just in case he knew she was there.

The next day, she carefully dressed herself in matching bra and pants and walked to the window to draw back the curtain. The other side of the road was marginally elevated so he could possibly see down to her knees, but he wasn’t looking and the curtains remained in place, drawn tightly oblivious to her attempts at seduction. She turned, only she didn’t look further up into the attic room, and she didn’t notice the slight glint from the reflective glass of the camera lens.

The next day she did the same with the same response, only this time she waited to put her bra on for when she got to the window. Her pert and very beautiful breasts bobbled into place as he looked down at her without her even realising.

..................................................................................................................

And so it was time for a game.

She waved goodbye to her friend and walked upstairs to her bedroom. She sat at the end of the bed and waited. The darkness increased both her anticipation and arousal but she refrained from touching herself. She remained fully dressed.

Soon she saw him walking back from the pub, opening the gate and placing his key in the door.

Did he look up towards her? She could no longer distinguish between her hopes and reality.

She waited. No lights came on. What was he doing?

Her curtains were only slightly ajar and the streetlight was the only glimmer she could see.

All of a sudden, his bedroom light went on. She watched intently to see if he would open the curtains but as she watched, she saw the light diminish and she was left with the initial light from the street.

Disappointed, she was about to withdraw when she saw the curtains open in the darkened room in front of her. He stood there fully dressed staring directly into her room.

She stood up with her hands by her side, waiting.

He looked up and down the street and then stared directly into her room as he removed his t-shirt. He leaned his hands on the pane of glass and stood still, waiting.

She walked towards the window and placed her fingers into the voyeurist’s position. He continued to lean forward, urging her to do something.

She clasped the curtains in both hands and ripped them apart ferociously, standing alarmed at the urgency of this action.
As he saw the curtains separate, he stood erect and removed himself from the glass. His hand wandered towards his belt and he undid the buckle. He slid his hand down towards his flies and undid the top button. He then returned his hands to the pain of glass, open palmed as though inviting some reciprocal behaviour.

She walked up to the glass and pressed her chest towards it. A furtive glance up the street suggested that they were alone and she started to unbutton her top, slowly and hopelessly seductively.

He remained in place, watching and delighting at her slowness.

As she stood there in her bra, he moved his hands across his chest as though expecting her to do the same.

She mirrored his movement and smoothed her hands over her ample breasts, caressing them gently.

He leaned once more towards the window with his hands returning to the clear pane. He wanted more and he was trying to show her.

She took his cue and slipped her hands around her back to unfasten her bra. She arched her back and released it, slowly taking her hands up her arms and slipping the straps down. Her breasts cascaded out and he smiled.

He unzipped his trousers and thrust his hand down into his pants, again placing one hand on the glass.

This was now his cue and she finally realised.

She undid her skirt and let it fall to the ground. Once done, she too placed a hand on the cold pane, waiting.

She didn’t have to wait long before he slipped out of his trousers and his pants, and stood there in full glory with a semi-erect cock. He took it in his hand and started to rub it gently.

Once more he placed his empty hand on the pane.

She slipped her hand into her lacy panties and pushed them to the side, exposing her bushy pussy which was hard and wet, and she wished he could see.

She pushed her fingers inside and wiggled her fingers around. Withdrawing them from her body, she slid them down the pane to show how wet they were.

Still clasping his cock in his hand, he smiled and waved to her.

He didn’t want to give her too much on the first time of reciprocal voyeurism and action.

He closed the curtains, returned to the darkness of the room and wanked himself to climax quicker than he had expected. He was extremely aroused and he wanted more.

She fell into the bed, reached into her bed side table and helped herself to a healthy dose of a much needed rabbit that was eagerly pushing and vibrating over her clitoris.

........................................................................................................................................

And that was just the start.

Over the next few weeks the masturbating continued, the excitement increased. Every night they said goodnight in this dramatic and exciting way.

She pushed a chair into the window and sat with her legs splayed so that he could see as she pushed more than a few fingers inside her.

He stood in the window wanking hard as he watched her fist going in and out, with her legs sprawled over the chair leg, gloriously maintaining her black fuck me shoes on her feet.

He wanked hard, turning profile so that she could see the extent of his extremely elongated cock and then he returned to face the window, raised his leg as though on a stool and fired his spunk all over the window.

As he did so, she suddenly felt a surge of action within her and with an amazing and unexpected force she found a spray of ejaculation urge itself out of her.

Fucking unbelievable.

She had never experienced such a fulfilling sexual pleasure, not even with another human being in the room. The elation that she felt was invigorating. She was learning to do things with her own body that she had no idea she was capable of. It was so amazing, so sensual and it was all her own work!

 What more could she get out of this non-penetrative sex?

How long could this go on without an urgent need to run across the road in the middle of the night for an excited and necessary fuck?

Who was going to break the silence?

And whilst all of this was happening, they remained silent as they stood on the train platform together, as the shopped in the same supermarket and drank in the same pub.

..............................................................................................................................................

A few week’s had passed. Morning and night time, they watched each other venturing further into one another’s silent lives.

Who was going to make a move? Was any move necessary?

She went down to make some breakfast and heard the letterbox rattle. Too early for the postman she rushed to the door.

There on the mat was a single piece of paper.

As she opened the paper, she saw the familiar blue and white logo of Skype. Underneath was a name: Jokerman45, followed by a time, 9pm, and an ‘x’.

....................................................................

The evening came too slowly.

She returned home and prepared for the evening by walking around the house totally naked. Little did she know that Jokerman45 was preparing in exactly the same way.

He took his laptop up to his room and waited.

A contact request came in at 8.45 from “Amiability42”. He accepted immediately.

At 9.00 he pressed the call button on Skype. He set the video to start and waited.

Before she could open her mouth, he held a sign up in front of his face that simply said “SShhh!”

She giggled as he took the sign away and immediately waved his hard cock in front of the camera.

She placed her lap top between her knees and stretched down to tickle her labia. She held them open and focused the lens on her needy cunt.

He responded immediately by jerking his cock in front of her. He paused as though hoping to last a little longer but she could not do the same.

Once more her orgasm came quickly and she spurted her juices out all over the screen. It was utterly divine and she delved inside herself for more.

It was not long before he too spurted his stuff all over the screen; great globs of spunk rolling down the screen for him to see and her to imagine.

They both lay back and felt their simultaneous orgasms, once more in silence.

It was blissful. It was delightful and empowering to know that you can do that to yourself.

So wonderful.

It was time for another of Jokerman’s  note.

“1 am, in the middle of the street. You know what to wear”.

She leant forward and stared at him in disbelief. He looked at her, nodded and pressed the end button to finish the call.

The silence and the solitude was about to be broken.

The Age of Sexism or the Sexism of Age

The Age of Sexism or the Sexism of Age

Or neither?

Today I am probably writing about the age of sexual ageism and how once more we have fallen into the trap of societal expectation rather than relying on our instinct and our primal sexual desires.

We do live in an age of sexism despite the many advances in feminism. Women still get paid less than men. Female sexuality is still not fully understood with an apparent lack of urgency to do any further scientific research. There is still an expectation with some women that it is the man who should be doing the wooing. We still have quite a road to travel.

There is also sexism within age or “Sexism of Age”. Ask the BBC if you want a definitive definition. They seem to have understood the sexism of age by getting rid of older women because high definition television apparently shows us more wrinkles that we allegedly find displeasing.

Older men still manage to get work but according to the Beeb, we don’t mind their wrinkly bits.

Which brings me onto the age of sexual ageism.

The age of sexual ageism is a nasty little issue that is so often overlooked in our society. People find older mothers abhorrent, not necessarily because they are the age of grandparents but more because it suggests that they are still “at it” and that is not a very pleasant thought apparently.

Men who father children well into their seventies and eighties are seen as dirty old men rather than virile.

The little blue pill has actually added to this problem so now younger generations are under the impression that as soon as a bloke hits their fifties, his bits start to droop and he is reliant on the chemistry of Viagra to get their cocky parts to work.

From personal experience, I would like to verify that this is not the case, well certainly not with my beautiful 50 something. His cock is in perfect working order, thank you very much. Furthermore, I am eagerly anticipating many more decades of sexual togetherness where all sorts of sexual excitements can come from both is erect penis and his delightfully adventurous fingers.

Having a lover who is ten years older has certainly given me a sexual experience that I definitely did not have when I was younger. Our love making can go on for hours. A quickie is fifteen minutes not two, and let me assure any young readers that this is a good thing!

There is something rather amazing about being with a man who has enjoyed a lifetime of sexual learning, and guess who reaps the benefit? Moi!

And this brings me to another issue. Should I really be the only one benefitting from this study and demonstrative knowledge of the female being?

In an age of sexual ageism, most people think that he should probably give up this sexual excitement. By the time he is of an age to retire, he should definitely have given it up. Most certainly he should be monogamist if he has to do it at all, though clearly, according to society, celibacy should be the order of the day.

Well, society is wrong. And I have to say that I have been wrong too.

So conditioned am I into thinking that there is something wrong with large age gaps that I have hysterically overlooked the fact that I am in a relationship that other people might suggest has an age differentiation too wide. However, I think that it is eleven years plus difference that really bothers those unenlightened folk in life.

My lover has had the opportunity to have sex with a woman who is half his age. At first, I thought this was inappropriate. Yet now I am thinking, why should it be so?

In many ways it is no different than the ten years between him and I. If she was younger, and I mean significantly younger, then that would be different. If he were in some sort of powerful position, then that too would be different as it could potentially be deemed as exploitative, but who the hell says that two people who are sexually attracted to one another cannot have sex merely because there is a couple of decades between them? Only a green eyed monster – hee hee!

It didn’t stop Catherine Zeta Loveliness and her sixty six year old husband. Whilst I may not necessarily wish to sit here conveying such positivity about marriage, I am really pleased that theirs has been a success (and if anything were to happen tomorrow, I would still regard the longevity of their partnership a success). It has proved society wrong. It has shown that a beautiful woman is perfectly normal in being attracted to an older man, especially if he is allegedly very practiced in the art of knowing how to make a woman climax.

If Catherine Zeta Jones has as many orgasms with her older man as I do with mine, then she is not only very fortunate but extremely sensible in wanting her man rather than a supposed Brad Pitt whose age is more akin to the Welsh buxom one.

Recently, I have been talking to a group of women who I work with. They are much younger than me but are probably more aware of their sexual needs than I was at the same age.

They fancy a fuck. Some of them want to find their perfect man and live happily ever after but I will work on them so that they are fully aware of the facts before they get into such a partnership. Others, however, are honest and enlightened enough to admit that what they really want is decent sex with an interesting guy who is going to sexually satisfy them whilst also being able to be sociable. They are not looking for lurve; just a cockful of it.

At first, I automatically thought about a group of young men who I know who could do their duty and get on with having a decent shag with my friends, but in reality, if I really want women to be enlightened sexually, which is indeed Zenpuss’s mission, then maybe I should be pointing them towards older blokes; not necessarily my lover but certainly people of his age who can keep it up and keep it passionate far longer than men of their own age.

And why not my lover? I rather fancy being a voyeurist, and looking in on these activities, seeing how much younger women can get from a horny man who likes pussy. I rather like being a facilitator of women learning what can happen sexually and positively, and how they should never settle for anything less. Empowering these women has actually become quite important to me. I do not see an age difference being anything other than advantageous in the expressiveness and fulfilment of female sexuality. I genuinely don’t think that most younger men can possibly give as much as an older man who is turned on and excited. I mean let us face facts, an older guy is not usually going to shoot his load too early, and if he is turned on, believe me, he can stay stiff for a considerable amount of time.

Now I am fully aware that some people will disagree with me. I am not advocating paedophilia. I am not suggesting that at all. But once women are of a certain age and maturity with enough nous to know that they might be missing something sexually, then why should they not explore the talents of an older man.

And likewise, why shouldn’t a horny sixty year old woman who is fit, active and gagging for a fuck invite younger men into her special place? Maybe they too could learn from a sexy older woman who can be assertive enough to tell her young lovers what is required, thus enabling them to be even greater lovers ahead of their chronological age?

Like with many things that I write about, this is all a thought that should probably be pursued further. I hope it at least makes people think.

Men and women of a certain age are still sexual beings. They still like sex, enjoy it and need it. This is perfectly normal.

The idea of sharing their experience and understanding makes perfect sense. In every other area of life, people suggest respecting their elders and learning from them, so why not in sex too?

Comments gratefully received.

Healthy Sex on All Days

Well it is that time of year when one thinks about lurve and valentines and sex.

In true British style, we tend to have special days for certain thoughts or actions and then we put it to rest for the entirety of the year. For example, how often do you eat pancakes other than in the middle of February? The shops are full of eggs and lemons and all things nice for the days prior to Shrove Tuesday. Those same ingredients are in the same shops every day of the week, throughout the year, and still we pass them by or buy them for different purposes, not thinking to combine them for a very tasty and enjoyable fodder.

So it is with Valentine’s Day. It is a time for us to declare our love for a partner or a lover or a prospective one at least. And once we have done it, we can shyly retreat into saying nothing at all, ignoring the basic fact that if a relationship is ever going to work, interaction of all sorts is required.

Valentine’s Day is stooooooopid.

Wikipedia says that Valentine’s Day is “an annual commemoration held on February 14^th celebrating love and affection between intimate companions”.

If I am honest, I am not sure that I would want to be with anyone who thought that they had to wait to be amorous on a given day in the year. I mean, what ever happened to spontaneity?

Real affection and intimate companionship requires none of this mock-religious western celebration. In fact the very thought of having such a day makes a total mockery of intimacy.

The most wonderful thing that my lover could give me on Valentine’s Day is a mighty big fuck; no different from any other Monday. I like being fucked to pieces on any day but especially so on a Monday! So it is rather befitting for me that Valentine’s Day falls on a Monday this year; as I said, no different from any other Monday.

However, if he wanted to find a jar of chocolate paste for me to play with at the same time, I wouldn’t say no!

Which partly brings me onto my next conversation piece on this subject.

Being a few days before the “V” day, the shops are full of pink and red, with puke-making lurve all around. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not averse to being wooed. I like being told that I am lovely. I love being hugged and kissed with passion, both tenderly and forcefully. But all of this is so damn commercial and bears very little resemblance to real love.

I digress.

Because there are only a few days before the “V” day, not only are the shops full of this sentimental rubbish but so too is the internet.

As I closed down my mail page earlier today, I found myself transported to the following page

http://uk.health.lifestyle.yahoo.net/is-sex-good-for-your-health.htm, all in the name of Saint Valentine.

Aha! We are allowed to discuss sex on this day too because some people think that sex and love are mutually tied and the former should not happen unless the latter is well and truly in place.

Deary me!

So, according to this link, sex is good for you; in seven clear ways.

No! You don’t say! Though I have to say, I could think of more than seven reasons for having sex.

I mean, I am genuinely worried if people only come to such sites and such facts on this commercially driven love-fest day.

So here is a little tongue in cheek (or something else in cheek) response to the masterful seven sexual health tips.

1.       Good for the heart

Sex is good for your heart. Like any physical exertion, sex is a form of cardio-exercise, which gets your heart pumping faster and helps it stay in shape. What's more, studies have shown that men who have sex two or more times per week cut their risk of a fatal heart attack by half.

Well, there you go! Does that mean that men who have sex more than four times per week cut their risk of a fatal heart attack by half again? In which case, bring it on baby. My cunt is ready and waiting to do its little bit for a certain person’s life expectancy. Surely this has to be the very best cardio-vascular exercise for man and woman. Surely it is the most natural method of exercise know to the human race. In fact, it makes me want to get up and exercise immediately. My muscles are all rippling up at the very prospect.

2.       Helps you lose weight

Like any form of exercise, sex helps you lose weight. Having sex for 30 minutes can burn off 85 calories. To put that in perspective: 15 minutes on the treadmill could burn up to 200 calories; 42 of these half-hour sessions, then, could shave a pound off your weight.

Well there you go again! I have to have sex!

If I manage to get sex on a daily basis, for a really good work out, I could be ten stone again in six months time. I’m more than willing to put this theory to the test. Okay, so you don’t burn up as many calories as getting on the treadmill or the cross trainer but think of your soul! I can cope with over an hour of sex as opposed to fifteen minutes on the exercise machine, and the sex that I have can be more energetic. In fact I am completely convinced that once a few pounds have been shed I am going to be jumping all over the place. It’s so exciting and such an incentive.

Just think, I could spend four hours fucking instead of one hour in the gym. Perfect!

3.       Boosts your immune system

While it's possible to contract a wide range of diseases, both from sex and from simple contact with others, safe sex between healthy partners can make you better equipped to fight illness.

Those who have sex once or twice a week have been shown to have higher levels of immunoglobulin A or IgA, an antibody which helps protect you from respiratory diseases like the cold and flu.

Don’t go overboard, though – in studies, those who had sex three or more times a week had the lowest levels of antibodies.

I’ll ignore the last sentence. What utter rubbish!

It is not only the physical act that boosts the immune system. I do believe that there is the mind over matter issue and if you are doing something positive for the soul, it has to have a knock on effect on your physical wellbeing too. And visa versa.

This is just common sense isn’t it?

4.       Reduces the risk of prostate cancer

For younger men, sex reduces the risk of prostate cancer. Researchers have found that men in their 20s who had five or more ejaculations per week were one third less likely to develop the cancer in later life. Although they found no such correlation for older men, you could try to prove them wrong.

I’m now even more delighted that my lover was such as sexy beast in his twenties, and his thirties for that matter. I don’t suppose it is something that a twenty eight year old would be concerned about as he jacks off for another wank in the week. However, it yet again reiterates the vitality, importance and necessity for a healthy sex life. Honestly, people really ought to know about this stuff. It should not be contained for the middle of February each year. Those who know this stuff should be shouting at the top of their voices about this. Tell people to have sex. Tell people to have sex regularly and enjoy it NOW!

5.       Relieves stress

There's a medical explanation for the mood boost sex gives you. The brain releases endorphins during and after sex, and these neurotransmitters create a feeling of euphoria while masking the negative effects of stress.

Researchers have also found that sex lowers your blood pressure, which is good for your health and allows you to better keep your cool in stressful situations.

Now if people have not heard about endorphins then they should really get on and learn. These clever little neurotransmitters are the essence of life. Their effects resemble the effect of opium. They are the natural highs of life. Why would you turn to the poppy plant if you could get this wonderful, exhilarating, natural boost all of the time? It has to be the very best way to alleviate stress. It works for me, for sure.

6.       It relieves pain

Endorphins and lower blood pressure also mean that sex relieves pain. Endorphins are released during sex because of the heightened levels of the hormone oxytocin in your body. This has been known to alleviate arthritic and menstrual pain, among other things. Lower blood pressure can also help relieve migraines.

There is that myth that women feign a headache if they want to avoid sex. There is a myth that one should not have sex, therefore, if you have a headache. On the contrary, it appears in many studies that if you are suffering from a bad migraine, take a penis instead of a paracetamol.

Menstrual pain is another one. Menstruation is a bit of a taboo even between people who are allegedly intimate. This is suggesting that a drop of natural blood should not get in the way of a bit of sex. Rather it should be encouraged if the monthly cramps are ludicrously painful, and yet, we are so reluctant to have sex when we are menstruating because that’s just not the done thing.

Change your mind folks. Do it, talk about it and see it as a healthy activity and a natural part of being a woman and being in a partnership.

Just on another note, all this sex can clearly alleviate pain but also having something wonderful to think about can take your mind well away from any potential psychosomatic or actual physical ailments.

7.       It helps you sleep

In addition to relieving stress and pain, the oxytocin generated during sex helps you sleep better. Sex relaxes you, promoting deeper, more restful sleep. What more do you need?

Well duh!!

What this does not mention is the whole issue of Satori.

Sex, the best sex doesn’t just have a soporific effect. It completely transforms you, lifting you into an all too illusive state of wonderment and being utterly at one with yourself. That feeling is beyond explanation. There are no words that can possibly explain this brilliant phenomenon but it is something that all sexually active people should aspire to.

So there we have it. It appears that we would not be wasting our lives if we were spending hours on end in bed, and in fact we would be prolonging it for even more hours in bed.

Can’t be bad.

Only as I said, this is only half a list of the all encompassing healthiness of sex. And this is something that everyone should be aware. Furthermore, do we really need an excuse for sex in the veiled benefits to our health, or should we just for a minute consider the instinctive nature of the glorious beast.

Just fucking do it!

And when you do, talk about it and let the world know that good sex is happening and the shiny face and the healthy mind, body and soul of the speaker is mainly attributed to a healthy sex life.

Oh how I need some exercise!

Sexual Snippets in February 2011

Sexual Snippets

It has been some time, too long since I wrote on this blog and there seems to be so much going on in the world of sex once more, so I thought I would start by writing a small, sexual snippets on a range of subjects to get my writing juices flowing, and hopefully some other juices whilst I am at it.

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People in the News

Robert Lindsay

A couple of weekends ago, the actor Robert Lindsay was in the news. Apparently, he had been out to celebrate the end of a theatre run, darling, and had run up a £1600 bill at Spearmint Rhinos.

http://boomnews.info/tvs-robert-lindsay-i-ran-up-a-1600-bill-at-a-lapdancing-club-and-my-wife-doesnt-mind/

The various newspapers that reported on this were trying to imply that there was a story here; that this married man should not have been cavorting with these lewd women in such a dirty place. However, dear Robert gave them a different story to cover.
His wife knew where he was and was allegedly perfectly content that he was out with friends enjoying a bit of titillation by looking at some very handsome tits. Not only did his wife know where he was but so did his son.

There seem to be no sexual secrets in the Lindsay household and how wonderful is that?

Personally, I am rather delighted to know that Mr. Lindsay still has a healthy libido and enjoys the delights of looking at nubile young women. I am further delighted that the very lovely Ms. Ford, his current partner, recognises that such sexual excitement in her man’s life is not in any way going to deter him from wanting her. It is not a distraction or a threat to their relationship. Rather, the fact that they seem to be so honest about his sexual desires suggests that there is a greater chance of longevity in their relationship as this sincere honesty underpins everything that they have.

It does also show a determined liberation. Many actors would have run a mile at being photographed coming out of such an establishment. Many would have tried to shy away, possibly getting into some hideous brawl with the paparazzi. And this is where I admire Robert Lindsay for simply strolling out of the bar, a little worse for wear.

He was doing nothing wrong and so he didn’t have to hide. That was what he thought, so why not be photographed?
Perhaps he is such a big star that even being captured in legitimate sex places can do him no harm, or perhaps it is those eyes, that charm and twinkle, so that one could not possibly print a bad thing about him.

Sally Bercow

In direct contrast to Mr. Lindsay, Sally Bercow went on the radio yesterday to apologise for her sexiness.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2011/feb/04/sally-bercow-bedsheet-photo

She had posed for a photo, draped in nothing but a sheet with the esteemed tower of St. Stephen’s in the background. In the original piece that was written for a build up to Valentine’s Day in the Evening Standard, Mrs. Bercow had mentioned how sexy she thought it was to go to bed with the light from the Big Ben tower shining into her room.

So far so good, and well done to her for posing that way. She looked very erotic in a cheeky sort of way.

However, her hubby, unlike Rosemary Ford, was not amused and was concerned that this pose would have a detrimental effect upon his career. After all, this is parliament dear, and there should be no talk of sex in that institution, other than to pass legislation that supposedly protects us from this evil force.

Sally therefore went on the Radio Five Victoria Derbyshire programme to say that this whole incident had been a mistake, that she had looked a complete idiot and that she regretted posing for the cameras in this way.

What I would like to know is how Sally Bercow felt whilst she was posing. Did it make her feel sexy and alive? Did she want to dive into bed with or without the bed sheets having got herself aroused by this sexiness? If she did, then why on earth would this have been the wrong thing to do? How could it be idiotic?
Too many times in life, people push aside the naturalness of sexuality, and that is the idiotic thing. Too many times in life, people react negatively to this perfectly natural expression of sexuality, and that too is an idiotic thing.

I would have admired Sally Bercow much more if she had taken a leaf out of Robert Lindsay’s book and said “yes, I posed for a photo with parliament in the back ground. What of it? I like sex. I have a good sexual life and a healthy libido. If I happen to be turned on by screwing my husband with this phallic symbol of power behind me then so be it.”

But she didn’t because Brits just don’t do that sort of thing when one’s partner is Speaker of the House.

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The Joys of Teen Sex

http://www.channel4.com/programmes/the-joy-of-teen-sex

This is a tricky one. I am all for people being honest about sex. I am all for people recognising that teenagers do have sex rather than pretending that they do not. However, there are ways of doing this and glorifying abnormal sexual behaviour is not the way to do it.

Let us get one thing straight, right here and right now. Sex is a wonderful thing. It is such a precious thing that it should not be entered into (excuse the pun) lightly. People should think very carefully about normalising sexual behaviour of, say, a thirteen year old. In my honest opinion, all that is happening with a child of that age is a physical act of sex. There is nothing about the real essence of sexuality in sex at this age. That requires maturity and an emotional development that simply cannot exist in the minds, lives and souls of such young teenagers.

So what should we do about it? We should think in terms of being sex positive. We should tell young people about the preciousness of the very best sexual experiences and that this really can only come later in life when you have developed a maturity and understanding of oneself, so that you do not become falsely reliant on either a person or that feeling of having sex. We should shy away from telling young people that they should not have sex. All they will do in return is mockingly state that if sex was such a bad thing then why do we, as adults, partake? Good response in my opinion.
But we should certainly help them in delaying their sexual activity, supporting them in maturing their emotional intelligence and making them see that there are also alternatives to penetrative sex that go beyond the idiotic 101 ways to make love without doing it rubbish.

http://priory.com/paeds/101%20ways.htm

I mean, is a rampant sixteen year old boy going to be happy walking arm in arm in the woods (no.13) when what he really wants is to get down in the leaves and shag his girl as quickly and urgently as his body is telling him to do so?

Or is a seventeen year old girl going to be happy with a gaze (no 39) when she wants her boyfriend or girlfriend to wander their hands across her pubic hairs and into her pussy?

Of course they are not but suggesting that they wank one another off or wank themselves off whilst a partner is looking on, well, that is certainly going to give them a whacking great big orgasm without the problems associated with penetrative sex, and it is obviously extremely intimate.

Wake up world.

Admittedly, I only watched a small section of this programme but it struck me as serving the sort of stereotyping that should not be happening.

The first participant in the programme was a girl of thirteen who had been taken to the lurve clinic by her mother who was concerned about her having sex. When she got there and was talking to the counsellor, she disclosed that not only was she having sex but on many occasions it was unprotected. By the time she got to the doctor to discuss the range of contraceptives available to her, she further disclosed that she had indeed contracted Chlamydia at the age of thirteen.

“That’s unlucky!” said the ever so politically correct young doctor.

Unlucky???? Unlucky????

This isn’t unlucky. This is downright negligent and the child should be told.

The trouble with programmes like this that are ever so right on and cooooooooool is that they have a tendency to normalise things that are not normal. It is like suggesting that all Texans wear Stetsons every single time that they walk out of the door – ok, perhaps not the best of analogies, or that all Japanese people have quirky sexual habits or that all Germans have no sense of humour.

All teenagers are not having sex. In fact the majority are not having sex, of any sort, let alone penetrative.

Yes, help this girl out, and the other person that I saw on the television who was scared of having anal sex but do it so that it is absolutely clear that these are not things that confront every teenager in the country the minute they lose touch with being twelve.

I deplore sensationalism of any sort. I despise it even further when it diminishes and belittles something that I hold very dear; good sex.

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And talking of good sex...........

Nobody, be it teenager, famous person or a simple pleb on the street should settle for anything other than the best sex you can have. Okay, a little bit of recreational sex to get rid of urges. Or a little bit of recreational sex happens just because you fancy a fuck or a person. Well that’s fine every so often but there is no substitute for the real all-encompassing togetherness of glorious, loving sex.

And yesterday I got just that.

It made me think as I lay in a comatose state of utter bliss how vital it is to have this in one’s life. I have therefore decided that I need at least one completely overwhelming session of sex per week. Ideally I would have it at least four or five times a week, at night so that I can drift off into a good six or seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, other than the times in the night when my lover just fancied burying his fingers deep into my cunt.

And in case anyone was worried that Zenpuss’s libido has shrunk. Be assured that it hasn’t. A good old rampant bang, or a quick shag on the bathroom floor will do me on a daily basis but I need that all out loving at least once a week.

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And finally for now.......

There is still debate about what is happening to a woman during orgasm. There is still debate, unbelievably so, about whether a woman is actually capable of having a vaginal orgasm.

I am interested in this area and have been doing some research both with my partner and on my own, checking what my body feels like after copious orgasms and also after a self-indulgent clitoral climax.

For me, and I appreciate that I am a lucky one, for I can spurt out all manner of fluids having being stimulated in the right way.
But what are these fluids if they are not urine? Where have they come from and why do I think I need to pee when I am excited?

I implore any female reader to check this out. (Not female, suggest to your woman that she does this, preferably with you watching on).

 Go to the toilet and release any urine in your body. Then give yourself a good clitoral stimulation so that you orgasm. Then see how long it takes for you to need the toilet. I suspect it won’t be long. When you go to the loo, just check the colour of your emissions. I suspect they might be extremely clear.

So what does this mean?

More later but do tell me of your findings and whether my hypothesis is correct.