31/03: Admiratio saluto
I know I've not blogged for yonks. My only (and very valid) excuse is study. My Masters (not the nice kind with whips and shackles and things) has me in its thrall. So, you won't be reading a lot from me until it's all over. But today, something happened that I just had to tell you about, dear reader.
On my way home from uni today, I found myself needing a convenience and, knowing the location of a handy block, I headed for it. It's in the middle of a quite busy car park - the block, not the convenience! I went in, - it was empty - unfastened that which required unfastening and started to do that which I was there to do.
And then two young women entered. One went into a cubicle and the other came over and stood beside me. I was a bit surprised at this. I said "Hello" and she returned my greeting. It's important to point out that I was still emptying my bladder at this stage. She then told me that she had dared her friend to use the men's toilet and been dared back to talk to anyone that was inside. Which is what she was doing.
The thing was, while she was talking, she kept looking down at my penis. The fact that she was standing there and looking at my penis, meant that it was growing, making it more difficult and therefore, taking longer to pee. She was quite open about staring. Anyway, after a bit, her friend came out of the cubicle and went to wash her hands. The one standing next to me commented on how long I was taking, to which I just grunted in agreement. She said goodbye and they both left, giggling.
It struck me as I struggled to complete the task at hand, that perhaps this was a WW challenge or dare. I remember someone doing something similar a long while ago. So, I guess what I'm saying is, if it was and you're reading this, can we do it again, please?
On my way home from uni today, I found myself needing a convenience and, knowing the location of a handy block, I headed for it. It's in the middle of a quite busy car park - the block, not the convenience! I went in, - it was empty - unfastened that which required unfastening and started to do that which I was there to do.
And then two young women entered. One went into a cubicle and the other came over and stood beside me. I was a bit surprised at this. I said "Hello" and she returned my greeting. It's important to point out that I was still emptying my bladder at this stage. She then told me that she had dared her friend to use the men's toilet and been dared back to talk to anyone that was inside. Which is what she was doing.
The thing was, while she was talking, she kept looking down at my penis. The fact that she was standing there and looking at my penis, meant that it was growing, making it more difficult and therefore, taking longer to pee. She was quite open about staring. Anyway, after a bit, her friend came out of the cubicle and went to wash her hands. The one standing next to me commented on how long I was taking, to which I just grunted in agreement. She said goodbye and they both left, giggling.
It struck me as I struggled to complete the task at hand, that perhaps this was a WW challenge or dare. I remember someone doing something similar a long while ago. So, I guess what I'm saying is, if it was and you're reading this, can we do it again, please?
11/01: Opening gambit
So this afternoon I was on a train, making my way home. I was busily typing away on my assignment next to the window and didn't notice the person sitting next to me. Eventually I stopped and stretched (as you do) and I noticed it was a woman beside me who was staring at my crotch. I thought that was rather odd but delightful all the same. I returned to my work but kept glancing at her.
She was reading a book but would keep peeking down into my lap. The attention was getting me a bit hard and I was hoping she could see the growing bulge. It was completely putting me off my assignment so I started typing an erotic story to increase the growth process.
As we approached my stop I excused myself and stood up. I reached over her to get my coat from the overhead rack, knowing I was erect but ignoring it. I glanced down and she was looking directly at it. I was trying to pluck up the courage to say something witty when she suddenly looked up and crooked her finger at me, beckoning me to bend over. I complied.
"Do you realise your fly is open," She whispered, smiling.
I hastily zipped up, thanked her and left the train. Very annoying when I didn't mean it!
She was reading a book but would keep peeking down into my lap. The attention was getting me a bit hard and I was hoping she could see the growing bulge. It was completely putting me off my assignment so I started typing an erotic story to increase the growth process.
As we approached my stop I excused myself and stood up. I reached over her to get my coat from the overhead rack, knowing I was erect but ignoring it. I glanced down and she was looking directly at it. I was trying to pluck up the courage to say something witty when she suddenly looked up and crooked her finger at me, beckoning me to bend over. I complied.
"Do you realise your fly is open," She whispered, smiling.
I hastily zipped up, thanked her and left the train. Very annoying when I didn't mean it!
So, I've just recovered from a dose of flu which decided to attach itself to me over the Christmas holiday. And in celebration of that, I decided to carry out an experiment.
The temperature around here reached the dizzying lows of -5 yesterday and threatened to be worse tonight so I thought it would be prefect to see if I could masturbate at the back of my garden and see how long it took to freeze. I took photographs, naturally. And had a thermometer.
Step 1
I set the thermometer onto a small saucer and placed it outside my back door. The temperature was around -3.
Step 2
I first thought I would masturbate into the little saucer but it soon became obvious it was too small. The saucer!!
So I reassessed the plan and moved everything up the back of the garden and used a slate tile sitting on a compost bin which proved an excellent height.
This also proved advantageous for the temperature as it fell a few more degrees.
Getting hard was no problem and I was soon into my stride. Through chattering teeth, I came. I quickly finished up then ran inside to warm my cockles...and my hands.
Step 3
Half an hour later I ventured back out to find it had frozen!
And so, my testing is complete. And it proves that I can masturbate in sub-zero temperatures and my sperm freezes some time before half an hour when it's around -6.
The temperature around here reached the dizzying lows of -5 yesterday and threatened to be worse tonight so I thought it would be prefect to see if I could masturbate at the back of my garden and see how long it took to freeze. I took photographs, naturally. And had a thermometer.
Step 1
I set the thermometer onto a small saucer and placed it outside my back door. The temperature was around -3.
Step 2
I first thought I would masturbate into the little saucer but it soon became obvious it was too small. The saucer!!
So I reassessed the plan and moved everything up the back of the garden and used a slate tile sitting on a compost bin which proved an excellent height.
This also proved advantageous for the temperature as it fell a few more degrees.
Getting hard was no problem and I was soon into my stride. Through chattering teeth, I came. I quickly finished up then ran inside to warm my cockles...and my hands.
Step 3
Half an hour later I ventured back out to find it had frozen!
And so, my testing is complete. And it proves that I can masturbate in sub-zero temperatures and my sperm freezes some time before half an hour when it's around -6.
14/12: ...and out the other side.
So. I have been into the depths and now return, refreshed and revitalised.
I have found some pills which lower the libido to undreamed of levels of non-existence. So low, one would imagine there was no way back to normalcy. It has taken a while for the after effects of these hideous drugs to dissipate but all is well again and I have my mojo back! In fact, I watched some porn today and my little fella grew like never before!
Naturally, I did not take these pills for this reason. They were hyped as a cure for the swelling in my foot. They actually cured the swelling in my cock! Next time, I shall put up with the swelling in my foot.
I have found some pills which lower the libido to undreamed of levels of non-existence. So low, one would imagine there was no way back to normalcy. It has taken a while for the after effects of these hideous drugs to dissipate but all is well again and I have my mojo back! In fact, I watched some porn today and my little fella grew like never before!
Naturally, I did not take these pills for this reason. They were hyped as a cure for the swelling in my foot. They actually cured the swelling in my cock! Next time, I shall put up with the swelling in my foot.
18/11: I'll have figgy vodka
I'm not sure whether I've blogged about it before but I suffer from gout. Good life, real ale, red meat, yadda yadda yadda. It only strikes about once a year but when it does I get to lie on a lounge and watch TV...constantly. No fun.
However, the interesting thing about gout is that people laugh when you tell them!
ME: I have gout.
THEM: HA HA HA HA! I'm imagining you in an ancient bath chair, with a big white bandage on your foot, your nose red and bulbous and being grumpy! HA HA HA HA.
ME: It's actually really painful.
THEM: Oh, yes, of course, sorry (snigger, snigger, snigger)
And so it goes. You get used to it. Though it was a surprise when my mother did the same thing this morning on the phone.
But then...having left out patients after giving them a small vial of my blood to search for uric acid, I hobbled down to the corner store for some provisions. Gout means you can't wear anything on the affected foot so you have to picture me with a cane, one sock and runner on the right foot and a thong (flip-flop) on the left. The guy behind the counter (who I see most days) asks, concerned, what I've done to my leg. I tell him gout and wait for the inevitable bath chair comment. Imagine my surprise (and delight) when he winces and says "Oh dear. That is very painful!"
You could have knocked me over with a gnat's fart. I was, frankly, stunned. When I said people generally laugh, he explained he had a friend who suffered and he'd hand (almost) first hand experience of it. Oh for joy! Someone who understands.
So. I'm laid up for a few days, foot occasionally throbbing, nothing else throbbing at all. Sex and gout do not go together unless you're a total weirdo freak and, to be honest, I can't see it even if you were. And then a joyful happenstance.
Back in September (my reader will remember this) I went to Oktoberfest. While there I purchased a few bottles of fig vodka (yes, it's vodka that's had figs in it) because it's amazingly delicious. I'd forgotten about them and accidentally came across them last night. My face lit up then the smile ran away as I realised the pain killers I had taken would spoil the experience somewhat. And so, today I have forsworn the pain killers and intend to indulge at lunch. Oh joyous tidings indeed!
Ok, so figgy vodka is probably a good way to worsen the gout but what the fuck.
However, the interesting thing about gout is that people laugh when you tell them!
ME: I have gout.
THEM: HA HA HA HA! I'm imagining you in an ancient bath chair, with a big white bandage on your foot, your nose red and bulbous and being grumpy! HA HA HA HA.
ME: It's actually really painful.
THEM: Oh, yes, of course, sorry (snigger, snigger, snigger)
And so it goes. You get used to it. Though it was a surprise when my mother did the same thing this morning on the phone.
But then...having left out patients after giving them a small vial of my blood to search for uric acid, I hobbled down to the corner store for some provisions. Gout means you can't wear anything on the affected foot so you have to picture me with a cane, one sock and runner on the right foot and a thong (flip-flop) on the left. The guy behind the counter (who I see most days) asks, concerned, what I've done to my leg. I tell him gout and wait for the inevitable bath chair comment. Imagine my surprise (and delight) when he winces and says "Oh dear. That is very painful!"
You could have knocked me over with a gnat's fart. I was, frankly, stunned. When I said people generally laugh, he explained he had a friend who suffered and he'd hand (almost) first hand experience of it. Oh for joy! Someone who understands.
So. I'm laid up for a few days, foot occasionally throbbing, nothing else throbbing at all. Sex and gout do not go together unless you're a total weirdo freak and, to be honest, I can't see it even if you were. And then a joyful happenstance.
Back in September (my reader will remember this) I went to Oktoberfest. While there I purchased a few bottles of fig vodka (yes, it's vodka that's had figs in it) because it's amazingly delicious. I'd forgotten about them and accidentally came across them last night. My face lit up then the smile ran away as I realised the pain killers I had taken would spoil the experience somewhat. And so, today I have forsworn the pain killers and intend to indulge at lunch. Oh joyous tidings indeed!
Ok, so figgy vodka is probably a good way to worsen the gout but what the fuck.
13/11: משועמם ועייף
I've just skipped out of the second half of a lecture. And I thought I'd blog about it.
I think it's a sad indication of our pathetic education system that, at Masters level, the most basic referencing techniques need to be taught to students! It was very difficult to stay awake as the lecturer droned on about citations, plagiarizing, journals, etc. I KNOW ALL THIS! Ok, so that's not really the issue. Like Mr Tarrant says, "It's only easy if you know the answer." [Millionarie, ND]. See? He even told us how to do that today. No need to say I've been doing it for years. And so, realising I'd be sound asleep if I returned from the blessed halfway break, I went to Costa's (there's no Starbucks like at good old Surrey U), ordered a very strong coffee and sat to type up my blog.
I guess that's the thing with uni: If you already know it, don't attend. I do this every week for the technical module because I've made a living using the technologies they are teaching us. Thank Belinda* for non-compulsory classes, I say!
Anyway, the highlight of this afternoons lecture was getting to sit next to Emily. She is small and pixie-like and wears a style all of her own which is both flighty and fairy. She has an excellent sense of self deprecatorary** humour and, to top it off, is terribly sexy. She has deep pools for eyes, large and glistening with eye-drops because her contacts are drying out. Her legs are enticingly encased with black tights, a short skirt giving delicious glimpses of them. I could go on. But I won't. Naturally I'd never let on. She's young enough to my grand-niece!
* No idea but I hate saying god because I feel such a hypocrite when I clearly have no faith. Let's call her Belinda, Goddess of Blogs.
** I think I made this word up but I like it, so there!
I think it's a sad indication of our pathetic education system that, at Masters level, the most basic referencing techniques need to be taught to students! It was very difficult to stay awake as the lecturer droned on about citations, plagiarizing, journals, etc. I KNOW ALL THIS! Ok, so that's not really the issue. Like Mr Tarrant says, "It's only easy if you know the answer." [Millionarie, ND]. See? He even told us how to do that today. No need to say I've been doing it for years. And so, realising I'd be sound asleep if I returned from the blessed halfway break, I went to Costa's (there's no Starbucks like at good old Surrey U), ordered a very strong coffee and sat to type up my blog.
I guess that's the thing with uni: If you already know it, don't attend. I do this every week for the technical module because I've made a living using the technologies they are teaching us. Thank Belinda* for non-compulsory classes, I say!
Anyway, the highlight of this afternoons lecture was getting to sit next to Emily. She is small and pixie-like and wears a style all of her own which is both flighty and fairy. She has an excellent sense of self deprecatorary** humour and, to top it off, is terribly sexy. She has deep pools for eyes, large and glistening with eye-drops because her contacts are drying out. Her legs are enticingly encased with black tights, a short skirt giving delicious glimpses of them. I could go on. But I won't. Naturally I'd never let on. She's young enough to my grand-niece!
* No idea but I hate saying god because I feel such a hypocrite when I clearly have no faith. Let's call her Belinda, Goddess of Blogs.
** I think I made this word up but I like it, so there!
I was busy relieving myself today (imagining a certain small hand gripping my testicles as I slowly reached a knee shuddering climax) when I realised how much I enjoy being groped. Not that it's happened enough times for my desires to truly be tested, you understand. Still, I've enjoyed it when it has happened. And, naturally when a man's thoughts turn to something sexual, there's always an experience that begs to be shared.
It was somewhere in the drug hazed 70s and I was at a Slade concert, getting down and getting with it, along with the other screaming hordes (and indeed, hordes they were) as Noddy screamed at us. We were packed in, bodies touching, arms in the air, yelling. I was vaguely aware of my friends doing likewise around me. Suddenly I felt a hand rubbing the front of my jeans. The hand was reaching from behind and having a lovely time as my young penis quickly reacted. It was glorious. The fingers running up and down the shaft, gripping then releasing. Rubbing in time to the music (actually I don't remember if it WAS in time to the music but the poetic imagery is too good to resist). When the song finished, so did the hand, retracted and lost forever.
I have no idea who gave me this delightful thrill. I have no idea if it was male or female. I know I enjoyed it A LOT! The idea of anonymous groping still gives me a thrill. Listening to Slade still brings me over all tingly. Ah, Noddy, if you only knew. I somehow think you would approve.
It was somewhere in the drug hazed 70s and I was at a Slade concert, getting down and getting with it, along with the other screaming hordes (and indeed, hordes they were) as Noddy screamed at us. We were packed in, bodies touching, arms in the air, yelling. I was vaguely aware of my friends doing likewise around me. Suddenly I felt a hand rubbing the front of my jeans. The hand was reaching from behind and having a lovely time as my young penis quickly reacted. It was glorious. The fingers running up and down the shaft, gripping then releasing. Rubbing in time to the music (actually I don't remember if it WAS in time to the music but the poetic imagery is too good to resist). When the song finished, so did the hand, retracted and lost forever.
I have no idea who gave me this delightful thrill. I have no idea if it was male or female. I know I enjoyed it A LOT! The idea of anonymous groping still gives me a thrill. Listening to Slade still brings me over all tingly. Ah, Noddy, if you only knew. I somehow think you would approve.
09/11: Knickers Full of Grace
Sorry, I'm such an awful blogger. I'm using uni as my excuse although I realise how thin that is wearing.
Anyway, having read a recent post about pants, I thought I'd pollute your thoughts with my musings on these most personal pieces of attire.
It's always a concern when dressing, in preparation for a night out, whether to wear the comfortable, old frayed ones or, in expectation, to go for the not-so-comfortable, sexy ones you purchased for that special night that turns into an exploration of them. I know I've spent ages over this quandary in the past. Actually, this morning, I 'um-ed' and 'ah-ed' over which pants to wear, knowing I'd be sitting on them for a lot of the time and no-one was likely to see them. Who am I kidding...no-one was going to see them! I opted for the comfort option.
Now I find myself sitting here, thinking about what knickers are gathered around me. Given that I'm at uni, surrounded by a majority of young people, a few male pairs are on display, showing a desire for patterns featuring an interesting variety of shades of pink. I have no problem with pink, in fact I quite like it, but it seems a young bullish lad in low slung jeans, trying to prove his manliness, would possibly be better served in a more macho colour. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps the whole gender-colour issue has been buried in the trash of yesterdays foibles. I'd like to think so.
Moving on to female pants, always a joyous moment, I prefer the style that is called 'boypants' by the cognoscenti. I have a firm abhorrence for thongs; I find them ugly and can never quite get over the thought that they are splitting the ass cheeks and rubbing where they shouldn't. I have to admit to liking the VPL apparent on a tight pair of jeans which the detested thong removes. I find it odd that people like the flossy things. I see no use or desire in them.
And I like lace. Very much.
I'm off to class now and will continue to think about pants. It's a more exciting subject than Information Science!
Anyway, having read a recent post about pants, I thought I'd pollute your thoughts with my musings on these most personal pieces of attire.
It's always a concern when dressing, in preparation for a night out, whether to wear the comfortable, old frayed ones or, in expectation, to go for the not-so-comfortable, sexy ones you purchased for that special night that turns into an exploration of them. I know I've spent ages over this quandary in the past. Actually, this morning, I 'um-ed' and 'ah-ed' over which pants to wear, knowing I'd be sitting on them for a lot of the time and no-one was likely to see them. Who am I kidding...no-one was going to see them! I opted for the comfort option.
Now I find myself sitting here, thinking about what knickers are gathered around me. Given that I'm at uni, surrounded by a majority of young people, a few male pairs are on display, showing a desire for patterns featuring an interesting variety of shades of pink. I have no problem with pink, in fact I quite like it, but it seems a young bullish lad in low slung jeans, trying to prove his manliness, would possibly be better served in a more macho colour. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps the whole gender-colour issue has been buried in the trash of yesterdays foibles. I'd like to think so.
Moving on to female pants, always a joyous moment, I prefer the style that is called 'boypants' by the cognoscenti. I have a firm abhorrence for thongs; I find them ugly and can never quite get over the thought that they are splitting the ass cheeks and rubbing where they shouldn't. I have to admit to liking the VPL apparent on a tight pair of jeans which the detested thong removes. I find it odd that people like the flossy things. I see no use or desire in them.
And I like lace. Very much.
I'm off to class now and will continue to think about pants. It's a more exciting subject than Information Science!
Not exactly a sexual adventure but something I thought my loyal readership (you know who you are) may enjoy.
This morning I was busy with my task for my Mistress when my phone rang. It was a very good friend of mine who wanted arrange a meeting. After we'd said our hellos, she asked:
"What are you up to?"
To which I (honestly) replied:
"I've just spread chocolate all over the head of my penis."
Naturally she laughed and asked why and, naturally I told her. She laughed some more. And then we discussed more mundane things.
As an addendum, I also texted a female friend that my penis was covered in chocolate and she texted back: I'm on my way! which made me laugh out loud, scaring the dogs.
Just another normal day in crazy-land.
This morning I was busy with my task for my Mistress when my phone rang. It was a very good friend of mine who wanted arrange a meeting. After we'd said our hellos, she asked:
"What are you up to?"
To which I (honestly) replied:
"I've just spread chocolate all over the head of my penis."
Naturally she laughed and asked why and, naturally I told her. She laughed some more. And then we discussed more mundane things.
As an addendum, I also texted a female friend that my penis was covered in chocolate and she texted back: I'm on my way! which made me laugh out loud, scaring the dogs.
Just another normal day in crazy-land.
10/08: The Twitcher
So, walking the dogs this morning, as usual, I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of that rarest of birds, the Kneelus oralius.
I like to keep an eye on the badger sett which is situated in a small wooded area where once there was a chalk quarry. It is very secluded from the rest of the park and is a place I have used for naked photography on more than a few occasions. There is a narrow path which wends its way between the trees, sometimes obscuring the way ahead, other times affording a fine view. Today the view was unexpectedly fine.
The dogs had run off, chasing a squirrel or some other unattainable small mammal as I continued along the track. I wasn't being particularly quiet but managed to almost run into a couple behind a big tree. She was kneeling, he was standing, she had her mouth full, he had his eyes closed. I'm pretty sure he had no idea I was there but she saw me. Her eyes opened wide and she stopped what she was doing, pulling his rather thick and hard cock from her mouth. I figured she was about to say something and, feeling for the guy, I put a finger to my lips and encouraged her to continue, as I backed away. I found the dogs and we retraced our steps, going home via the open park rather than the woods.
Sadly, I had no camera and was not asked to join in but it made my day all the same!
I like to keep an eye on the badger sett which is situated in a small wooded area where once there was a chalk quarry. It is very secluded from the rest of the park and is a place I have used for naked photography on more than a few occasions. There is a narrow path which wends its way between the trees, sometimes obscuring the way ahead, other times affording a fine view. Today the view was unexpectedly fine.
The dogs had run off, chasing a squirrel or some other unattainable small mammal as I continued along the track. I wasn't being particularly quiet but managed to almost run into a couple behind a big tree. She was kneeling, he was standing, she had her mouth full, he had his eyes closed. I'm pretty sure he had no idea I was there but she saw me. Her eyes opened wide and she stopped what she was doing, pulling his rather thick and hard cock from her mouth. I figured she was about to say something and, feeling for the guy, I put a finger to my lips and encouraged her to continue, as I backed away. I found the dogs and we retraced our steps, going home via the open park rather than the woods.
Sadly, I had no camera and was not asked to join in but it made my day all the same!