» I don't understand the attraction

You know what I don't get?
Erections.
(Sat 17th Oct 2009, 17:05, More)

» Public Sex

*gulp* Let's get this over and done with, then!
Hey – I’m not that longtime a lurker (only nine months or so), I just feel I’ve been meta-referencing this place long enough to finally take the plunge, as it were, and gently lower myself in and register. And hopefully I can find a story to fit this…

While my coital occurrences have been pretty vanilla (hotel rooms, friend’s dining room floor, more hotel rooms, student flats, did I mention the hotel rooms?), my other antics have been a bit more interesting.

I have given my ex-boyfriend a blowjob while in a bush, while his older brother did the weeding about 5 metres away. Also given this boyfriend a handjob at a packed gig and touched him inappropriately at his grandmother’s house. In the same room as his parents and grandmother, that is, but tucked around a corner. He did do a classy thing and finger his next girlfriend at a gig while she was on her period (leading to a lot of mess and mass deduction of man-points), so I think I had a lucky escape.

I have been felt up by my Ex while sitting just off quite a busy road in my home town, under the cover of a poncho. That was pretty fun, especially as a group of yoofs came and sat opposite mid-fingering. I hope they didn’t realize what was going on, though my red cheeks and huge pupils probably gave it away somewhat…

And finally, and most recently, I gave a guy a blowjob on a trampoline while one of his good friends was passed out at the other end of the garden, being attended to by paramedics. I have to say, the funniest bit of the whole affair was what he came out with afterwards (besides the obvious emission, of course); which was “Well done. Not meaning to sound patronising, but well done.” I felt like I’d got full marks on my homework or something.

So that’s it – as I talk about sex way too much, I thought it was an ideal question to break my posting hymen. Please don’t hate me for not being strictly on topic. Apologies for lack of amusement, for excess of length, for wasting your time. That was what sex with my Ex is like!
(Tue 28th Apr 2009, 18:06, More)

» Turning into your parents

Not parents, as such, but close relatives.
Fairly apt, actually, because a few nights ago I was looking through some old family photographs. My grandfather was an avid photographer, as was my dad – as a result there are many, MANY photos of my aunts, uncle, father, and grandparents scampering around, having a jolly old time. Up until the age of six, my life was fairly well documented in a series of well-taken black and white photos – along with the typical “birthday-party” and “look-at-my-daughter-she-can-play-the-piano” posed type, there are ones of me and my sister engrossed in T.V.; me doing homework with an expression of utter concentration on my face; eating cereal; doing the washing up. I’ve always been allowed to wear what I want, and when I was little it usually consisted of either Clarks or Doc Martens, teamed with Laura Ashley dresses and cardigans knitted by my grandmother. Which leads me back to the point that I was trying to make.

In these photos, my grandmother was beautiful. She was incredibly well-dressed – not in the formal sense, but her outfits were unique and really quite special. She was an avid craftswoman, and made countless nighties and dresses out of William Morris fabric or old Liberty prints. At the age I’m getting to (i.e. old enough to need to buy my own clothes) I’ve realized how useful it would be to be as good a seamstress as her. I’d also been nursing a desire to find some cats-eye glasses, and, lo and behold, there is my grandmother wearing such a pair. I think about the sort of things I’d like to wear and I see my grandmother – who I only really knew when she was dying from a dehabilitating illness – as the sort of person I’d love to be. This is a woman who had five children, lost her husband early and lived a full life, never losing heart. If I were to turn into my grandmother, I would be happy. She was so strong; and so beautiful.

As mentioned, there are a lot of photos of my three aunts, uncle and father. All my aunts are stunning. They have dark hair and huge eyes, and big grins. But the one that stands out most to me is the middle sister. In this particular album, she is around my age. She was not the most beautiful – that prize goes to the eldest – nor was she the most attractive – that was the younger. She had closely cropped hair, like mine, and she looked solemnly at the camera. Most of the handwritten captions (by my grandfather, with obligatory puns – it runs in the family, but that’s getting off the point) make reference to her being pensive, thoughtful, contemplative. She is the aunt I see myself most in.

This is the point where I mention there is quite a large problem of mental illness in my family. My father has suffered, I am suffering at the moment with similar problems, and we have the suspicion that both my grandparents had such illnesses too. But this aunt – the one I like the most in the pictures, the one I would imagine myself to be – went off to university, like I myself am about to, and had a mental breakdown. She developed schizophrenia and has not led a normal life since – understandably. And that terrifies me. That is what I dread most, as concerns “turning into your older relatives”. I had a phase where I was convinced I was developing it, to be told that worrying about developing it was a sure sign I HADN’T got it, which made me feel a bit better. But I do fear losing my mind. I fear losing the ability to live my life. It may be unlikely to so closely follow in my aunt’s footsteps, but the fear is there.

I’m sorry for lack of humour, and the tenuous link to the question. As for length, it’s my second time, I’m warming up a bit and can last a bit longer. But I’m sure I can perform even better ^_^
(Thu 30th Apr 2009, 16:39, More)

» Asking people out

Well,
after my second marriage ended horribly (I have no idea why - something about me not being the man she married or some other thing) I found myself single, with the only female company being my dog Molly. I decided that things must be done and started posting on a popular digital arts website. After all, the internet is full of ladies, and I am a stud who has won many medals for bravery and brilliance in the face of battle. I became very popular and requested ladies' presence on multiple occasions, but for some reason my efforts were unrewarded - even with the attractive pictures of myself I supplied by gaz! I decided to call it a day and continue planning my trip to the South Pole in a fighter jet powered by the blood of diabetes patients, but some pesky solider who OBVIOUSLY had a dislocated hand decided he wanted to prosecute me. How inconvenient.
Speaking of which, I didn't ask anyone out to be in my current relationship. It just happened, you know? I would like to keep all my teeth and Bubba can be very persuasive...

Regards,
Edmund
(Fri 11th Dec 2009, 17:12, More)

» Festivals

Somewhere, Somewhere, Leeds United
I've been to Leeds the last three years (2006 for the Sunday, which was a shame as I really REALLY liked all the bands that weekend...but I was only ickle :( and the last two for the whole weekend) and I'm going again this year as a volunteer for Oxfam. Now, the first two years I was sober, which was interesting. There's not much to say about my first time, as it was only for a day and probably not the most exciting of events (though I remember seeing Dead Disco on the Unsigned Stage...that's Victoria Hesketh's, aka Little Boots, old band). Also saw the lead singer of Mystery Jets, though he was quite a way off and we decided it wasn't very nice to run after him (he has spina bifida)

Well. Those familiar with Leeds festival site will know, at least vaguely, the layouts of the campsites. There's Blue, close to the arena, Red, Yellow, Brown (hahahahahahahah) and Orange. Oh Orange. The main thing about Orange is the fact it's UP A FUCKING MASSIVE HILL. Seriously, it's a bloody steep angle, and muddy too. So on the last night of 2007, my (rather chemically altered) friends decided that it would be a good idea to toboggan down Orange Hill.
While pissed.
On an inflatable sofa.

Not the best story, I know, I might spend some time beautifully crafting a story about my Encounter With The Russian, or What I Gave My Best Friend For His Sixteenth Birthday, or maybe even the expanded Edinburgh Fringe Absinthe And Sobranie Saga.

Threadwaste. Sorry >_< But those going to Leeds, I'll tape the Furtive Bear to my head or something, so you know it's me ^_^
(Thu 4th Jun 2009, 15:19, More)