Were a sex worker to tell you that you had a nice cock, you might perhaps, have two reactions, one negative, one positive. The negative reaction might go: “I’m paying her to make me feel good, so I should dismiss this well meaning flattery!” Alternatively, were you all post coitally glass-half-full, you might think: ”… Read More »
Fund raising meeting. I’m with a senior guy from our advisers. Late 50’s. Let’s call him Peter. We’ve met these two women fund managers before. The older is late forties, Dutch (I think). The younger, in her twenties, could be a model; stunning in her close fitting skirt, good shoes and silk blouse. They ask lots… Read More »
Soooo…. I don’t like my last two face slapping blog posts. Well the words are OK but I don’t like the images
It’s expensive what I do. Very expensive. As it should be. The people I play with are educated, articulate, independant women who have made a choice to do what they do. Furthermore, they have made a choice to see me above others who have sought their time, so it’s a privilege to be allowed to… Read More »
It may surprise you to know that all the historical details contained in this letter from my imaginary, immoral Victorian alter ego, Wackford Squeers, to his good friend, Dr J Mortimer Granville are accurate. Granville was indeed the inventor of the electromechanical vibrator. My principal source is here. And yes, I really did tie Lilly to… Read More »
My dear Jerimiah. Conceivably, on seeing my seal on this short missive, you will assume that I write to remind you of the debt of two thousand guineas you incurred at the club this last evening. How unfortunate for you that I should find myself holding four Treys against your House of Aces! But fear not!… Read More »
A comment recently popped into a blog post from last year where I had written about “Intimacy and the Girlfriend Experience.” In contrast to the wonderfully affectionate connection that I had described, the person writing the comment had found his experience cold, perfunctory and altogether less joyful.
Having told everyone I wasn’t going to Eroticon, as I was going on holiday instead, a late change of plan actually sees me spending some time at the annual sex-bloggers conference. As one of the reasons for cancelling the holiday was to spend time with my son, I can hardly disappear for the whole weekend,… Read More »
They’re younger than me, these guys. And fitter. After two days I’m wondering why I’m here. In this company, with their second homes and expensive cars, I feel the poor relation, unsuccessful in life and love. It’s nonsensical to feel this way but, after two days of fighting my skis, fighting my lack of fitness,… Read More »
Somehow this blog is still here. I am constantly disobeying my own instructions to myself to take it down; yet, at the end of 2017 here it is and running at eight or nine thousand page reads a month which seems like a lot for so niche a subject area!
Look into my eyes when you hurt me. Measure me with your stare.
I miss her. I miss the directness of her stare as she slaps my face.