♦ I love my camera (even though it EATS batteries) and I really want to get properly good at photography, so I’ve been doing artsy shots of sex toys for my reviews for a little while now. I love thinking up a scene that will complement the toy and I love getting a good shot. Sex toys are, in the main, sexy in and of themselves, I think. Not all of them, certainly, but some are practically works of art and some inspire lust in me by sight alone.
I love to see good photography of toys because I just don’t think there’s enough of it, so I’m thrilled to see Nymphomaniac Ness come up with a weekly meme that focuses on artsy shots of sex toys. Great idea and you couldn’t wish for a better reviewer to lead the charge!
Without further ado, here’s my very first entry to the very first Toy With Me Tuesday…
Until recently when my Lovehoney Satin Drawstring Toy Bags arrived, I had taken to storing many of my dildos up on the top shelf of my bookshelf after cleaning. Many of them stand up nicely on their own and why muck about rummaging in a drawer when I can just grab them when I want them? So here’s the Tantus Echo, Throb, Niagara O2, Acute and Adam O2.
Sure, this isn’t my best sex toy photo in technical or imaginative terms, but it’s recent and you haven’t seen it before and I think it might make you grin. Good old Tantus toys in front of good old Terry Pratchett, both fantastic craftspeople in their differing arenas. Discworld and dildos, what more could a gal want? ♦
♦ You might wonder where I’m going with this, but bear with me. A week or two ago, geek deity George Takei (who you should all love) hosted a photo competition on Facebook to search for his nerdiest Facebook fans. This is the photo that won the Biggest Male Nerd. It was submitted by one of the kids in the photograph, now grown up, who gave it the caption of “Future 40-year-old virgins”.
It is at this point that my imaginary clipboard appears and I start making furious notes, as those who know me well slowly back their chairs away. Because, frankly, what is up with that?
And it’s not just one guy being a bit self-deprecating either. This is a thing. The comments below were similarly full of “Set phasers to virgin!” and “The virginity is strong with this group.” (Wrong series, guy). It’s not just Star Trek nerds either. We posted up some photos online from the gaming event we ran recently and the first comment on a picture of a room full of geeks was “So many virgins”. TV Tropes even has a trope called Nerds are Virgins (don’t click unless you want to spend all day on a trope loop) and when TV Tropes says it, you know it’s true.
The joke that being sufficiently geeky will render you an unwilling virgin has become such an Approved Comedy Standard Joke that you’ll even find it parroted, as in Takei’s competition, by geeks themselves.
Enough is enough when it comes to the constant reinforcing of the idea that geek men (because it almost always is the men, women occasionally get a pass under the umbrella of “thinking man’s bit of crumpet”) will never have sex and never be sexy. Not just because it pisses me off or because it’s not true, but because it’s pretty nasty for men and women, geek and non-geek when you think about it.
So, male geeks are gonna be virgins because their playing Dungeons and Dragons or solving maths problems, for example, is somehow unattractive to women (I’m putting aside guys who like guys and girls who like girls for this to keep it simple, sorry). Not just “not actively attractive”, it’s repellent. Women, society seems to be saying, don’t like these things. And we pretty much just do this with geeky things, as far as I can tell. When was the last time someone looked at a cricket match (not even an overly ‘manly’ sport) and said “Pfft, look at those virgins”? When did anyone ever make a comment of “Look at that guy, he likes sports, he’ll never get laid.” and everyone just sort of accept as a Standard Joke?
On the geek side, it’s offensive to male geeks because we label them as sexless, frigid, awkward, desperate and even creepy. And, sure, while there are gonna be male geeks out there that are some or all of those things, that’s just not the case as a whole. I run a gaming society and the sheer amount of members who have slept with each other is ridiculous. Heck, that’s how I know Fractal and Crush.
What about female geeks? Great news, it’s offensive to us because what “guy geeks are virgins” is saying is that female geeks don’t exist. Think about it, saying that women don’t find watching anime or playing wargames attractive is saying that there aren’t any women out there who value these things and therefore essentially that there can’t be any women that actually do them. Hooray, I don’t exist!
Even if you’re a non-geek, it’s not looking good. Society sees geeks as intelligent and society says that male geeks don’t get sex, which basically evens out to mean that society says women don’t appreciate intelligence, or at least a certain type of intelligence. Savvy business men? Sure. Chess champions? Hell no. Worse than that, to me at least, suggesting that women don’t appreciate intelligence suggests that women aren’t intelligent. Am I going too far with this?
And for men as a whole, geekiness aside? Well, you’re only attractive if you do certain things and like certain things. Good luck. But hey, don’t fret, it’s OK. As this video shows, sometimes geeks are “in” and therefore it’s acceptable to find them hot and the world goes “Ooh, yes, geeks, they’re in, they’re attractive, didn’t you know?”. Because also women only like fashionable things.
I’m not saying we can’t ever make derogatory or offensive jokes about people, I love jokes in poor taste, but we can’t just keep lazily falling back on the “geek = virgin” stereotype. It’s so common, it’s boring. Sure, be funny, but don’t just phone in with “Haha, virgin” every time you see a lightsaber. That’s not a joke, that’s just being a dick. Labelling geeks as sexless losers means that we’re degrading male geeks, denying there are female geeks at all and possibly even implying that women are fickle and made of stupid. It needs to stop. Now.
And actually lots of us have plenty of sex. So there. Kthxbai. ♦
♦ I’d like to say that by now the news that jelly toys are bad should come as no shock to you, but I’ve learned how easy it is to happily wank away without knowing what’s going inside you. So I’ll say it again: jelly toys are BAD.
You’ll have seen me mention this before on the blog when I talked about my own experience with a jelly ‘dong’ that gave me burning sensations and serious discomfort. Yes, it burned. Yes, it put me in pain. But I think the worst part might even be that I had no idea it wasn’t my fault. I thought I was hurting myself through impatience. I thought it was the price I paid for a sneaky midnight wank.
It might sound like I am, but I’m not stupid. I was in the sex blogging world, I was sexually open and inquisitive and I still didn’t know about the dangers of jelly and phthalates and all sorts of horrible chemical crap. Please take the time to educate yourself on this stuff if you haven’t already. It’s in your interests.
And, for the love of all that is orgasmic, throw out any old jelly toys you have lying around. Replace them with silicone alternatives if you like, they’re better quality, safer and will last longer.
In fact, I pulled out anything jelly from my toy drawer a while ago and have been waiting to give them suitably violent deaths. The Savanna jelly ‘dong’? That’ll have to wait for something spectacular for all the pain that’s given me. But for now I thought I’d settle with ripping apart my old version 1.0 Jessica Rabbit.
Yup, turns out one of my first ever toys is jelly too. Can you see it’s gone a bit crappy and mucky and has picked up a few black marks on it? That’ll be a giveaway then. (All these photos can be seen embiggened on the clickthrough, BTW)
It’s a shame, as I quite enjoyed this toy back in the days before I discovered dildos. And it never burnt me like the Savanna ‘dong’ did. (No, I won’t stop putting that word in quotes). But it’s clearly porous and icky, the marks show me that. So it has to go.
Getting the little beads out of their chamber was quite fun, though they were a little… greasy at first. They’re plastic, though, and pretty, so I’ve kept them. Not sure what for yet.
To be honest, the whole thing was greasy, actually. There were layers of jelly I hadn’t expected and between each of the layers was a sort of… stickiness. Lovely. And I bet that stuff doesn’t only leach inwards.
I’ll be honest. I took these photos for a couple more reasons than just to talk again about how jelly sucks: A) because I find the inner mechanics and workings of sex toys fascinating and hope you will too (not everyone gets to rip vibes apart) and B) because I really wanted to stab the stupid jelly bunny in his stupid jelly face. Ugh.
Serves you right for being so awful. I kept the beads, bunged everything else away and then washed my hands. Twice. Then I made sure to upload my jelly destruction photos of doom to the Crystal Delights RIP Jelly Toy Wall of Shame, because it is a fantastic idea and very worthy. The more manufacturers and bloggers and consumers speaking about this, the better.
Anyway, the Jessica Rabbit is gone now. Dead, destroyed, gone from my toy drawer and banned forever from my vagina. As it should be. The Savanna ‘dong’ still remains though. Any creative destruction methods for that one?
Unlike Mr Bunny here, I’m all ears… ♦
♦ Just a little update today because I’ve tons of things to do at the moment. Here’s a quick snapshot of me from yesterday. I went out to the shops as I’ve lost a lot of weight lately and my jeans now fall down unless I’m wearing a belt. So I figured it was time to see if I could fit into the size down. And I can! Hooray!
Whilst in the changing room I noticed how my legs were looking pretty good and what a cute photo it’d probably make in my Converse, Transformers boy-pants and dinosaur tshirt. So, yes, this is me and my legs and a teasingly placed hand. Perhaps I shall have to take a dirtier changing room shot next time…
Hope you like it and it’s not too tame. Figured it was about time I showed off a part of me that wasn’t my boobs for once! ♦
♦ This Sunday I’m joining in again with Sinful Sunday, but with a new twist! This week is Sinful Sunday’s first ever competition and the theme is Underneath…
Penny: Sometimes people are layered like that. There’s something totally different underneath than what’s on the surface.
Billy: And sometimes there’s a third… even deeper level… and that one is the same as the top surface one.
Billy: Like with pie.
So, Crush and I, I don’t know if we’ve mentioned this before, but we’re geeks. Massive, fuck-off geeks. We roleplay, we wargame, we play video games and we play boardgames that, if you’re not One of Us, you’ve likely never heard of. [/hipster glasses]
Also, I just used a fake markup tag, so that’s a hint.
In any case, it’s quite obvious to everyone we know in real life that we’re geeky. But what our nerdy circle of friends don’t know is that I write this blog. They must know by now that I’m open about sex, they probably even have a clue we’re kinky, but they just don’t know how dirty we are underneath our geekiness. Underneath the awkward roleplayer is a wanton slut. Underneath the gawky gamer is a controlling dominant. Underneath our geekery lies a world of smut and filth and fucking.
And, like a pie, underneath that is a good layer of geek again. I mean, we just took naked photos of each other underneath piles of dice and then fucked in the aftermath.
Turns out, dice sex is good sex.
I hope you’ve liked seeing what we are underneath. Like the rest of humanity, we’re layered, but no matter if the current surface is geeky or sexy or something else altogether: it’s us all the way down. ♦
This Sinful Sunday we’re working to a competition on the theme of “Underneath”. Want to see more sinful interpretations? Click the image below…
♦ I found you nestled in the attic, half-walled-in by piles of books and a few old trunks, like a contented Rapunzel in her tower. Like her, your long braid of hair was your beauty, but certainly not your only charm, and now it lay shimmering in the light of an old lamp perched precariously nearby. You were curled into one of our many fluffy blankets that you had brought up the little ladder to the top of the house. In weather like this, you were barely ever seen without one, no matter the actual temperature inside. They comforted you in the dreariness of the bleak midwinter. The soft, fluffy fur laid warm kisses on your skin and I think you liked to fancy yourself wrapped in a pelt, the honoured daughter of a noble barbarian tribe.
I wondered what land you had lost yourself in now, what faraway scenes filled your head. You hadn’t noticed me come up. Your eyes were fixed to the page, your lips slightly parted and your face radiant with a familiar tranquillity. You were transfixed.
I didn’t want to disturb you. It would be like waking you from some glorious dream, a six o’ clock alarm blaring into fantasy land with a cruel message to return to the real world.
Only, I had to get closer. You were magnetic. I love you and I love the trill of your laughter, the feel of your body undulating as we fuck, the sway of your hips when you dance… But this was like candid photography, a glimpse into the private you that even I don’t always clearly see. A you deconstructed.
You turned the page delicately and the movement of your arm pulled the blanket from your neck a little, exposing the start of a collarbone and a hint of smooth skin.
I moved a little closer, the better to see you, my dear, but in the dim attic I caught my foot on some frippery and sent it rolling, clanking a metre or two.
The spell was broken, but you cast another with your smile as you saw me standing there like a lemon. You could so easily have been cross, but you beckoned me close, the blanket falling fully from your bare shoulder as you did.
I too smiled as, in the glow of the old lamp, I saw the spatter of freckles on your shoulder peeking out from under the braid of your burnished hair.
You made space beside you in the blanket-bower and threw your barbarian pelt around my shoulders like a cape, drawing me into your world and pulling me close. You put the book down reverently on a nearby trunk and turned to me, taking my hands in your own.
“Kiss me,” you said and your word was law.
Your lips tasted of honeyed tea and your skin was cool as I brought my hand to your neck. Your braid brushed the back of my hand and your fingers stroked sigils at my temples.
When we moved apart my eyes flickered not to yours, but rapidly around your haphazard book-fort. You raised an eyebrow.
Just enough room, I thought.
I took the blanket from our shoulders and spread it on the floorboards. I tucked a stray curl of hair behind your ear. I kissed you firmly on the forehead, took you by the shoulders and lay you back on the now-covered floor.
You smiled another beatific smile, this one with a hint of something less saintly, and drew me to your hips. My pelvis pressed into yours and I placed one hand on either side of your shoulders to prop myself up. Just the position was a match to my kindling; desire spelt out in flames that wrote themselves onto my skin, that scorched me to action.
I put a hand behind your braided head and pulled you upwards into a kiss. I transferred my heat to your mouth, my ache to your body, sent it scurrying down nerves and pathways into the reaches of your body.
I woke you with a kiss.
As my hand had flown to your head, now yours flew to mine. You took me, but not roughly, by the hair and in a deft movement flipped our positions, sending me to the floor and you over me in an exact and graceful reversal. We were still locked together at the hip, but now your legs straddled mine and you rose above me like a caryatid. You cupped your breasts and caressed them; you rolled your hips, grinding at my pelvis, pressing your sex against mine, only thin layers of fabric separating us.
I watched, enraptured, as you squeezed your pert breasts, your nipples hard under your lace-hemmed pyjama vest. In the dim attic room, your breath misted and caught the low light of the lamp. Your eyes were closed as your fingers pinched at your nipples through your top. Your hips continued to roll as I took them in my hands. My fingers crept under the trim of your top, but not for long as, now warmed a little by your fervour, you stripped it off in one move.
I sighed at the look of you and your eyes opened, fixing me in their sights before you darted forth at your target. You peppered my neck with kisses and pulled my top awkwardly from my torso. The rest of our clothes followed, one by one, until we were both naked in the cool air, surrounded by paperbacks and paraphernalia.
You sunk claws into the flesh of my flanks and rode me again, the slick, soft lips of your downy pussy sliding over my unsubtle erection. I stroked my way up the curve of your stomach, taking my time with your body even as you began to drive me mad with your teasing. Your thighs and hips fully explored, I made my way to your breasts, plucking at your nipples and grasping at the soft undersides. You gasped and quickened your pace, your eyes taking on a lost look as they did when you were reading. But you were lost in the here and now, rather than before in some faraway fantasy. You were lost in the euphoria of flesh upon flesh, your juices and my pre-cum mingling, creating a musk in the air that smelt like all our past lusts together combined.
You pushed your clitoris against the head of my cock as you rode me. Your breath grew heavy as you masturbated yourself on my body, my hands tweaking your nipples and my tongue deeply wishing for your taste. I watched as you shuddered to orgasm, your groans sounding too big for your seemingly delicate body to have made.
“God, I love you, ” I spat out.
Watching you come on top of me was now too much for me to take without burying myself inside you. I needed to feel your pussy around me. I needed, frankly, to fuck.
Luckily, in our time together we’ve come to know what each other wants fairly well and you knew I’d be aching to be within you now. You dipped a finger in your wetness, leant forward and curled your fingertip into my mouth, leaving the indescribable taste of you on my tongue as you kissed me on the forehead and turned to face my feet.
You leant forward on all fours and presented your flawless and slightly freckled behind to me, your plump pussy lips poking out from beneath a sculpted pair of cheeks. You lowered yourself gently, but smoothly, towards my straining erection and stopped just as the tip touched your sex. After a few agonising seconds, you continued your descent and I wrapped my hand around the base of my shaft to keep it steady. I felt the push of my fleshy head against your entrance and the slight resistance of your pussy, even as wet as it was.
Soon the head of my cock slipped inside you, the tight, warm walls of your pussy hugging it tightly. You lowered further and I pushed my hips upwards to meet you, both of us desperate for the feeling of satisfaction it would bring. I wanted my whole length inside you. I wanted to fill you up. I wanted you to bounce on my shaft until I exploded. I wanted to give my pleasure to you, to press it firmly into your hands to do with as you wished. I wanted to give myself, wholly.
You began to move up and down on top of me, my cock sliding in and out of your wet sex, my breath ragged. As you moved your braid swung rhythmically over your back, a metronome for our pleasure. I enjoyed the show before me as much as I enjoyed the feelings coming in waves down my cock. Your back was arched beautifully, forming little ripples at the small of your back. Your hair was shining with a golden tint. Your curves rippled with each movement.
My fingers curled into the blanket beneath me as my shoulders strained and my neck tensed and the build-up of glorious feelings in my cock became too, too much. I was engulfed in my orgasm and you cried out as hot liquid pulsed out into you. When I re-awoke in myself I felt my own juices start to slide from your pussy and pool around the base of my shaft.
You pulled yourself from me and crawled up beside me, pulling the edges of the blanket over us as you snuggled into my chest. I wondered briefly how long we had like this before the lure of the books piled all about us drew you away into a wonderland again.
I decided I didn’t care. We were here now, nestled and panting in our own wonderland that smelt like sweat and felt like bliss. I looked into your eyes and we lost ourselves together there, for a time. ♦
♦ Well, if you didn’t know by now that it was my birthday sometime over the last week, what on Earth have you been doing? You’ve certainly not noticed that I asked very nicely for some photos as presents and you’ve definitely not seen that numerous very lovely people gave me some gorgeous pictures indeed! If you haven’t seen that at least, go click that link right now. Don’t worry, I can wait for you to get back.
Right, all done? I hope you’ve left some lovely messages and compliments to those who sent me something delicious and pictorial, they really deserve all the attention they can get!
So, anyway, as I was saying, it was my birthday very recently. I took a boyshorts birthday picture for the lovely Jilly (go say happy birthday!), which she’ll be posting soon along with her other presents from other fine people, as I pottered around in the morning. Then, when I got changed into actual real clothes to go out and eat something tasty, I took some photos of me in those too. Here they are:
The little red dragon over on the headboard in the first picture is the one I bought Crush for our second anniversary (which is today!) at Erotica 2011 and it is awesomely adorable. To the left of it you can juuust about see the dinosaur stickers which he wore for his unforgettable impromptu dinosaur-pasties striptease (a phrase which I doubt will come up in any of my blog’s search terms :P). The triceratops necklace I’m wearing is incredibly brilliant and was given to me by Crush for my birthday because he is made of win.
Wearing such lovely warm colours and a mixture of summery vest top (don’t worry, I wrapped up better when I actually went out), sparkly bronze pants (fabulous to the max) and warm winter socks was great and really cheered up the slightly dour winter day. I hope these pictures cheer up your day too, consider them a little present in return. :) ♦
I’m playing Wanton Wednesday this week, are you? Feel free to leave me a comment telling me what you think of my pictures. And why not check out the other participants below too?
♦ My name is Blacksilk and I am a lurker. Not here, admittedly, then there wouldn’t be anything for you to lurk at, but I lurk. I have been known to lurk. As a blogger, I feel I should know better. I love to get comments. Sure, I write in part for the joy of writing, but c’mon, everyone likes to feel appreciated. But, of course, as a blogger I also know there is NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THE WORLD. I barely have time to blog, let alone comment on other blogs. So, naturally, there are some blogs where I can just about manage comment or even comment regularly and others where, well, I lurk.
I’m sure it’s the same for you too. Maybe you’re a fellow blogger like me and you just don’t have time to say hello because you know there posts to be posted and blogs to be blogged. Maybe you’re a reader of blogs who has other things to be doing than propping up my sense of validation. We’re all busy. I know that.
Or maybe it’s not that. You’re shy perhaps? You’re not sure I’d like what you have to say? Or maybe I’ve never said anything powerful enough to move you to comment? Maybe you commented once but never again? Whatever your reason for lurking, I understand because I do those same darn things elsewhere on the web. Sometimes I enjoyed the post but feel I have nothing to add. Sometimes I don’t comment because the post has SO MUCH love already that I wonder who’d care to hear from little old me?
But today, for just today, why not say hello? It doesn’t have to be anything more complicated than that, but if you want to, that’s great too. Tell me how long you’ve been reading or what your favourite posts are. do you have something you really love or hate about what I write? Get it off your chest. Today is Love Our Lurkers day and, whilst I’d love you to come back and comment again, today is your day for popping your head over the parapet, saying hi and re-lurking if you want to.
Your comment, yes, yours, would make my day.
And even if you don’t end up de-cloaking and de-lurking for LOL day? Never mind. I loves ya anyway. Thank you. Thank you for stopping by, whether it’s now and then, regularly or even your first time, and taking the time from your day to read my ramblings. I mean that. Just because I’m here shouting into the void, it doesn’t give me any right to have readers. You guys are a privilege and I’m honoured that you choose to spend even a little of your time listening to, and maybe even liking, what I have to say.
Dear Lurker, thank you.♦
P.S. Yes, that is a Lurker from old school Dungeons & Dragons at the top there, if you were wondering whether you were right. And if you were, why don’t we talk more often? :)