Monthly Archives: October 2008

Old Skool Sex Toys

We get asked to review a lot of sex toys. After a while we started to see the similar themes repeating themselves. You might have thought that one toy was very much like another, but just because they look the same doesn’t mean that hey perform the same way.

What you often find is that one manufacturer copies another’s ideas, expands upon them and creates something unique. That may or may not work, but it forms part of the evolution of sex toys. It’s rare that you see something really revolutionary, though it does occasionally happen.

So when Suze was asked to review the Jessica Rabbit 2.0 vibrator she was a little apprehensive because it’s a little long in the tooth. No apologies for that pun.

As it happens Suze had quite a pleasant surprise and you can read about it in her Jessica Rabbit review.

Letting Her Squeeze It – Part 2 of 2

In my dimly lit room, surrounded by my collection of super-cool and super-tatty clothing and a stack of vinyl LPS we lay down on my single bed, still fully clothed. The coffees I had made in the shared kitchen on our way in sat cold and forgotten on my bedside cabinet while we explore the possibilities of prolonged groping until we both felt the need to expose more skin.

We both sat up and removed our T-shirts. My chest was a little less impressive than hers, my body has never been quite as muscular as I would have liked, but she seemed to approve. I wasn’t complaining either, pert B-cup breasts in a smooth cupped black bra.

She unhooked herself and tossed the bra across to the chair next to the door, smiling impishly. Both or us now naked from the waist up I wasted no time in investigating her enticing breasts. The nibbling and sucking I gave her stiff, pink nipples eliciting moans and a grinding of her pelvis against me.

I couldn’t wait any longer, my cock was painfully hard in my jeans and wet with precum. I began to fumble with her jeans.

“No.” She said.


“I don’t, not on a first date.” She sounded disappointed. Not as disappointed as I was, but dejected enough to ensure I didn’t feel I had been led on.

“Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?” She asked. “It’s too late to get home.”

I looked at my battered alarm clock. The fluorescent hands showed it to be almost five in the morning. Time flies when your having fun.

“Of course you can stay.”

I found her a clean T-shirt to wear, it was too big for her small frame and made me even hornier, especially when she slid off her jeans and I watched her pad off to the bathroom in a pair or white cotton socks.

Jess slid under the covers with me. We spooned my hand reaching round and resting on her breast, my cock eventually succumbing and becoming flaccid before we drifted off to sleep.


I was awoken by the sounds of a tray being placed at the side of the bed. Light crept in through the cracks in the badly hung curtains allowing me to make out Jess, still looking sexy in my Motorhead T-shirt sitting next to me on the bed.

“Last night was nice.”

“Nice?” I was a little hurt.

“Yes, most guys would have got pissed off and told me to leave.”

“I’m not most guys.”

Her hand slipped under the covers and came to rest on my crotch. I was already hard, having woken with a healthy dose of morning wood. She slipped back the sheets and pulled down my briefs.

Her fingers curled round my shaft and slowly stroked it. I watched her studying my foreskin hide and reveal the tip of my cock.

“What was all that about first dates?”

“I’m calling this date number two.” She grinned.

I lay on my back, enjoying the unexpected hand job. My eyes closed, laying on my back I began to wonder if I was about to wake up and find I was having a wet dream and had shot my load up Jess’s back.

Her hand disappeared. When I opened my eyes she was standing at the side of my bed, removing her panties. I caught a flash of pubic hair as she straddled me. Her hands reached down and guided my cock into her. She was wet and warm, obviously as much in need of a fuck as I was.

She bounced up and down, quite slowly and ever so sexily. Her pussy gripped my cock, the sensation enhanced by the slow rolling of her pelvis and grinding of her mons into my pubis.

My hands rested on her thighs, my hips bucking, wanting to thrust but not wanting to spoil the experience of Jess fucking me. Fucking me wearing my Motorhead T-shirt. Now that was making me horny. What is it about girls wearing your clothes … ?

Jess leant forward and steadied herself by placing her hands either side of my chest. Her hair fell forward and covered my face. She rocked up and down, obviously bringing herself off on my throbbing penis. She gasped and I felt her wetness increase. I couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to hold back. I dug my heels into the bed and oblivious to the creaks and squeaks of the ancient bedframe I thrust into her pussy. Cumming felt like the rush of the wind in your hair when you stick your head out of a car window at 70 mph. Try it you’ll know what I mean.

She collapsed in the sort of sweaty, satisfied heap that only come after a really good shag and we drifted off to sleep with my still inside her and two more cups of coffee going cold on the tray beside the bed.

Letting Her Squeeze It – Part 1 of 2

Shake up at the disco
And I think I’ve got a pull
I ask her lots of questions
And she hangs on to the wall
I kiss her for the first time
And then I take her home
I’m invited in for coffee
And I give the dog a bone
She likes to go to discos
But she’s never on her own
I said Ill see you later
And I give her some old chat
But it’s not like that on the TV
When its cool for cats
Its cool for cats
Squeeze, Cool For Cats

I washed away the taste of the smoke from my mouth with a swig of bitter, but my eye’s were still stinging from the DJ’s attempt at Halloween atmosphere. Difford and Tilbrook wafted out into the side street and beckoned me back in to risk rejection from the tight-jeaned leather-jacketted girl with the long permed hair who I’d noticed over an hour ago.

I reached into my jacket pocket for the soft packet of Gallois. I extracted a slightly bent cigarette and straightened it by gently stroking it’s length between three fingers, careful not to rip the paper as it was one of only three left in the packet. I placed it in my mouth and fished out a box of Swan matches. The bright flair and sulphurous bite of the ignition speared my retinas and nostrils moments before the nicotine and asphalt grade tar hit my mouth and rolled down the back of my throat.

The carefully trained receptors in my brain lit up like the warning lights at Three Mile Island and made me feel like a hero. They gave me the determination to seek her out when I went back inside and make a move on her. The cigarette crackled with each deep breath I inhaled through the shredded nicotiana leaves, the sickly smell of the smoke generator replaced by the smell of French bars and an all too brief visit to Paris.

After drawing my last lungful of deadly particulates I flicked the butt into the gutter where its glowing cherry fizzed into darkness and turned towards the fire door. I pulled it open to find her silhouetted in the red light from the dance floor.

“I wondered where you’d gone.” She said, “Got a light?”

I fumbled with the matches and offered her a flame in cupped hands. She drew on her menthol vine, illuminating her face with a golden glow. She exhaled, wreathing me in smoke. “What’s your name?” She asked.


“Alex … Alexander?” She giggled.

“Hmmm? What’s funny?” I asked.

“Nothing, a bit posh isn’t it?”

“Do I sound posh?” I enquired.

“No. I’m Jess.”

Small talk ensued. Music, clothes, TV, films, music again. At 19 your conversation can be a little limited. There was an attraction there that we both wanted to explore. I took a step closer to her, she didn’t back away. I slid my arm around her back, and she moved toward me. I bent down to kiss her and her face turned upward offering pouting lips.

They tasted of cherry lip balm.

Her ass felt soft through the denim of her jeans. She pressed into me, the fullness of her chest making itself known against me. Her tongue was at first hesitant when mine challenged it, then with growing enthusiasm contended with mine first in her own mouth then in mine.

Her hair smelled of patchouli oil and smoke, her mouth tasted of larger and black, and her lips where the softest, vivacious, yielding skin I’d ever felt against my own.

We parted mouths after several minutes.

“Want a dance?” I ventured.

“Not really …” The look in her eyes said she had something else in mind.

“How about a coffee at mine?” My voice was a little shaky, I didn’t want her to say no. “I live about half a mile away.”

“That would be nice.” Her smile was warm, the tone of her voice told me the invitation was what she’d been waiting for.


We held hands for the 800 yards back to my digs. I enjoyed the sensation of her hand in mine and the second-hand smoke that she exhaled.

The house I had was shared, four bedrooms, one bathroom, one living room, one kitchen. I had the upper rear bedroom, which was handy for the loo in the middle of the night. A lighter sleeper would have objected to my housemates late night bathroom antics, but especially after a few beers I have always slept the sleep of the dead.

Bondage In A Virtual World

Australian Internet Censorship

I came across this article on the BBC last night.

It raises a number of questions about the Australian government in particular, but also about the role of governments in general when it comes to the filtering of content on the Internet. We’re all aware of the Chinese government’s aggressive filtering of what its citizens can view on the web. Anything that is judged to be potentially harmful by the Chinese authorities is blocked by the “Great Firewall of China”.

In one sense this is actually a good thing, in that it will stop one hell of a lot of content such as child porn being viewed by Chinese Internet users. The problem is that by using methods such as proxy servers and by the fact that it’s impossible for any government to keep up with the paedophile pornography sites, some consumers of this heinous filth will always find a way to access it. That of course ignores the fact that P2P networks are almost immune from such filtering and make the whole exercise a joke anyway.

Of course I’m not condoning the Chinese attitude towards filtering. Their whole policy is at best patriarchal, at worst Orwellian, sinister and oppressive. Right, That’s got us banned in China, LOL, back to Oz.

I am quite obviously a great advocate of freedom of speech, but I readily agree that freedoms come with responsibilities. That I can accept and try to remember every time I commit my thoughts to metaphorical paper.

What the Rudd government seems to be advocating is the nightmare scenario envisaged by Ray Bradbury in Fahrenheit 451 where freedom to think is suppressed to ensure that nobody can think impure thoughts or be damaged by any ideas that may be harmful to them.

But of course you hit the problem of who decides what the apparently hapless and sheep-like should and shouldn’t be exposed to. The second problem is that in a world where nobody has to exercise their mind to distinguish between ideologies that are fair and just and those which lead us into oppression and the persecution of the innocent they will lose the ability to make those distinctions.

Tags: Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451, Internet censorship, Kevin Rudd

Sex Shop Sniffing

We were at the local sex shop today. Yes I know, just for a change!

On the counter was a display of Vulva Original. If you don’t know what that is I’ll explain. It’s a scent that claims to replicate the aroma of a woman’s naughty bits.

We’ve had a sniff before and weren’t entirely convinced it was accurate in its reproduction of the female bouquet. At the time we both pondered if it was because the vial we tried had been opened and under the hot halogen lights of the shop.

That aside I decided to ask the two ladies behind the counter who actually buys Vulva Original. The answer was that it was purchased by a variety of their clientele from people who though it was a bit of a laugh to those who “buy it with DVDs”. Presumably the latter group sample the fragrance while enjoying the DVDs?


So, with that in mind I decided to contact the suppliers of Vulva and ask them for a sample. We’ll see what happens.

And BTW if you are reading this and a rather over-confident guy in a green fleece started asking odd questions about your stock today – that was me :o)

Tags: Vulva, Vulva Original, Scent Of A Woman

Suze And Susana With Sex Toys

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Over the years that both Alex and I have been writing for this site we have encountered all manner of “flattery” from simply taking our ideas through to actual plagiarism, where posts have been used on sites as their work with no link to AlexSuze.

One of the latest and most astounding examples of this was a site who created a whole section of their site with a batch of posts taken from here.

I suppose we should be pleased that so many out there consider us to be so good that they want to, quite frankly, rip us off.

What brought this post to mind was Alex’s latest find on Youtube, there is a Spanish sex toy store who are now creating videos very much like mine. Go take a look at mine here and we will wait for you.

Then take a look at their version here. Very similar aren’t they. Lol. It’s really nice to see someone making videos, rather than just downloading them, sticking a title page on and reloading them as their own.

BTW, if we have any Spanish speaking readers out there I would be very interested to know if the dialogue is anything like mine too. 🙂

A Very Dirty Thirty!

Diesel reached it’s 30th year in October and to celebrate they created a video to mark the occasion. The theme being “Dirty At Thirty” to promote their series of global parties which took place on 10th October.

The viral video features clips from cheesy 1980’s porn films and used animated overlays to cover up the action, rendering them SFW. As well as promoting the brand’s XXX parties they were sending out the message that they are not to be taken for granted. Oh, ok then!

Very creative use of bananas, pinball machine and my favourite…look out for the candy money shot. 😉

Right Hand Job

AlexSuze.comI woke up this morning and my right hand is killing me. No, I haven’t been pleasuing myself. We were out in the garden yesterday, putting it to bed for the winter and I was doing pruning. A lot of pruning.

So I have a blister on my thumb and last night my hand ached. This morning it’s seized up and feels like someone’s got it in a vice and is slowly tightening it.

Ah well, no wanking for me. Hang on, I have another hand mwahahaha.


PS If you want something a bit naughtier click here and peruse the rest of the blog.

Jump On Your Dildo

OK everyone, it’s your last chance to sign up for the Sex Toys Buzz newsletter before it’s released later today. When you do you’ll get the chance to win one of five Magma Phoenix Vibrators.

The Newsletter will have a number of important announcements about new developments on Sex Toys Buzz and our other sites, so you’ll be amongst the first to know about them.

So don’t use that extra hour to have a lie-in, get up and sign-up to the newsletter. Oh, of course unless you’re reading this in bed you already are up. LOL.

And the image? As they say in the Wizard of Oz, “Pay no attention to her“. I just like the image Hehehe.

Sex In First Class

AlexSuze.comThe train pulled away from the station and began to build up speed. Around the sparsely populated carriage our fellow passengers settled themselves for a long journey. A winter night, cold, moonless and dark painted the carriage windows a pitch black. An apparent void only pierced by the lights of the towns we passed and the occasional signal.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

We too settled for the trip, a long day behind us, another long day ahead.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

The rhythmic rocking of the carriage slowly lulled us to sleep.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum …

… Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum

I drifted towards waking, eyes closed, ears sensing that I was not in my own bed, mind slowly realising that the coarse texture of the fabric against my seat and the unfamiliar smells that pervaded my nostrils meant I was still on the train. I slowly opened my eyes, blinded by the dimmed lighting in the carriage, to find I was the only one awake.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

My thought processes increasing in speed with each waking breath an accelerating mass of neural energy, a Shinkansen of thoughts and ideas.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

She was beside me, slumped in her window seat. I reached across and slid my hand across her chest feeling her soft mounds. She stirred, making sounds I recognised from many nights sleeping by her side. A sigh, a half-spoken word. My name? Maybe.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

My hand travelled southward to the waistband of her jeans, flipping open the button, sliding down the zip. I delved inside. She stirred again, I waited.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

My explorations went further, deep into the neatly trimmed hair of her mons, seeking out her delicate, soft, moist slit with a single finger. It was all I could manage in the confines of her panties and tight jeans.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

Her clitoris was alive. The movements of my middle finger soliciting moans from her. A soft, semi-conscious, lament escaping from her lips like a gentle zephyr. My finger worked deftly, knowing her well. Her hips rose pushing her mons against me.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

Her eyes slowly opened. Her expression passed from the serenity of sleep, through curious arousal and appreciative self-satisfaction to slight alarm at the situation. She flashed an alarmed stare at me while simultaneously holding her hand across her crotch and pressing my hand deeper into her.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

The passion had its own momentum, overcoming the gradient of apprehension, speeding forward to the crest of the rise. She closed her eyes, savoured the decadence, the indulgence of the moment. Amongst the strangers sat around us she came with muffled grunts of appreciation. Her body convulsed, restrained by invisible bonds of her own making to disguise her orgasm. Finally relaxing, eyes still, shut into a contented doze.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

I glanced across at the woman asleep across the walkway, facing us. Her eyes opened, not as one disturbed from slumber but with the presence of someone totally aware. She slowly licked her lips with the tip of a glistening tongue, slid her right hand to her left breast and squoze her clearly visible nipple through the cotton of her T-shirt. Her gaze never left me until she shut her eyes again a few moments later, a broad smile on her lips.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum.

Tags: public sex, outdoor sex, sex on trains, train sex, exhibitionism

Fantasy Sex Or Reality Without The Complications?

One passage from the book “The Man In The High Castle” by Philip K Dick has always intrigued me. If you’ve not read it (and you should as it’s one of Dick’s more interesting works) the book deals with alternative histories. In the book’s reality the second world war was won by Germany and Japan, yet some of the world’s inhabitants are haunted by flashes of insight into the fact that their world might not be real.

There is a point where a character called Mr Tagomi meditates on a piece of jewellery created by another character in the book and for a fleeting instant gains insight and almost attains a state of Zen.

I had a similar moment at work today, but it was while watching David Bowie on YouTube. For a brief flash I found myself purged of all complication and the day-to-day worries that plague us all. I was simultaneously transported back to my early childhood. A moment later I felt myself existing at all points in my life between the ages of four and twenty.

And no I hadn’t just done a dot of LSD.

I enjoyed every moment as I felt I could experience all those lost moments again … then it was gone.

Modern life is like porn. Despite us all thinking we all know what we want we are often distracted by things that are essentially irrelevant. After all, once the bills have been paid and there’s food on the table money and the acquisition of things is a distraction, but one that some people are quick to pay attention to.

Porn is similar. While it is essential to have variety in porn to prevent it becoming the same old in-out, in-out, too much inventiveness can be distracting or just plain silly. I often wonder what directors are thinking when I see some of the elaborate scenarios rendered asexual by bad direction and production.

What I want from porn is what I want from sex. The feeling that two human beings are sexually aroused by each other and are engaged in acts that they find enjoyable and mutually gratifying. I think this applies to all types of porn, from softcore to the hardest of hardcore.

Fetish sex, as portrayed in some movies, is the biggest offender for getting it wrong. Whereas vanilla porn may fall down and just be plain boring, the producers of some fetish porn betray their lack of understanding of the scene and lack of skill as directors by simply browsing a list of gothic themed props and building a movie around them.

It’s the same with real life sex. If you’re into a fetish and your partner is too then you will not feel the need to overburden yourself with equipment. You may decide on shackles and binding and a variety of wax candles. But it’s unlikely that you’ll have a dozen different paddles and whips to hand.

We don’t over complicate our sexual play. Yes, we experiment and do use props from to time, however if we do use a toy or a prop, it is usually just that, singular.

So I am now on a quest to find the essence of what I fundamentally enjoy about sex and strip away all the day-to-day crap that intrudes on our intimacy. Our sex is already great, but I think that if I can strip away that which is unnecessary it can be something that transcends anything we’ve had before.

Danger, New Panties

After the false start detailed in my post a week or so ago entitled “New Boots and Panties I hope we now have a stable template. So if you’re seeing this on a black background with red headings and a red and blue logo then it’s working.

If the background’s white … Oh bugger. LOL

We’re off out now, but while we’re gone you can subscribe to the Sex Toys Buzz newsletter for the chance to win free sex toys and get the latest news about adult toys.

See you later.

Be Careful Who’s Cock You Lick

It has dominated the news recently that dairy products made in China have been deliberately contaminated with melamine, a chemical which enhances the levels of protein found in milk. These contaminated products have led to four baby’s deaths and made tens of thousands ill across China.

The EU has ordered the testing of products like chocolate, candy and cookies with a content of milk powder higher than 15% to contain the problem.

This has led to Adult toy store Ann Summers suspending the sales of their chocolate body spread, which Britain’s food regulator found to contain small quantities of melamine. The chocolate novelty spread was manufactured in China and brought over to be sold here in the UK.

The Food Standards Agency has found that the spread contains more than 50 times the permitted level of melamine.

So, be careful what you lick.

Just a moment, isn’t melamine a hard surface you find in kitchens and on some old tables? I’ve heard of getting wood but that is bloody ridiculous. Lol

Organic Food Fucking

I just came to sit and write this between watching some Friday night, I’m so glad the weeks over, porn. It’s a compilation of scenes set onboard an airplane, not very believable but most smut isn’t.

The scene involves an airhostess dressed in a very nice latex, baby blue uniform with a hat to match. She slips off to the back of the plane to the kitchen area and removes a couple of large cucumbers from storage.

And I bet you can’t guess where they are going. Lol Strange, in all the time I have been viewing porn I have never see a DVD with vegetable dildos being used. She rather unconvincingly pushes the first couple of inches inside her pussy and starts to fuck herself with it.

There is lots of sucking in of air through teeth and CTM action. You want to know what CTM is? It stands for Cucumber to Mouth. 🙂 This DVD is certainly one for the men, every move designed to titillate you guys, cause I know sucking a cucumber doesn’t bring me off.

I will review the DVD when we have watched it all but up to now I really haven’t been impressed. There are some original ideas but they haven’t been executed very well. Pity, but we’ll see if it redeems itself.

Watching did get me thinking. The UK is currently running a healthy eating campaign called “Five A Day”, where you are encouraged to eat 5 portions of fruit or vegetables daily.

Which five would be the most “useful”?

Cucumber…banana…corn on the cob…

Sex With A Stranger

AlexSuze.comAccepting an invitation to a party when you don’t know the host, or most of the host’s friends, is not something I normally do. The chances of being left in a corner cradling a beer and edging yourself into crowds of revellers to join in their conversations, without looking like that’s what you’re trying to do is pretty high. I accepted the invitation nonetheless, I mean your friends wouldn’t abandon you, would they.

So there I am ninety minutes after arriving, standing in the corner hugging a beer and wondering how my so called mates managed to lose me. I decided that the answer was that they were well practiced at it.

One of the two couples was notorious for slipping off at the first opportunity to get busy in the coat bedroom. This meant that in the winter they were in danger of dying from heat exhaustion due to the layers of heavy garments they burrowed under to fuck. In the summer late arrivals were more likely to see his backside rising and falling as she screamed her passion in a complete stranger’s coat pocket.

The other couple seemed to be locked in a nihilistic cycle involving flirting outrageously with members of the opposite sex just within earshot of each other, getting up close and personal with their chosen temporary paramour then erupting into a brief and apparently cataclysmic row with each other before retiring to the lavatory for thirty minutes for a conciliatory shag. They seemed totally unphased by the accusatory stares of the queue of full-bladdered party goers that greeted them on their exit.

My glass looked rather full so I decided to empty it and make way for the second of what I hoped would be many beers to make the night go quicker. It was either that or walk home now.

I retrieved a recently arrived can from the fridge and cracked it open. The resulting spray soaking my arm. I turned to the drainer to leave the can to settle and in so doing dribbled foaming beer down a skirt worn by a female guest.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Twenty minutes” she replied.


“I’ve been here twenty minutes, I usually manage about an hour before having anything spilt on me.” She laughed, her light brown eyes twinkled.

“Sorry. I’m Peter.” I offered a beer drenched hand.

“You don’t have to apologise for being Peter.” She took my hand and shook it. “I’m Tina”.

Tina it transpired was in pretty much the same position as me, except the couple who did know the host and had invited her hadn’t even bothered to turn up.

Small talk ensued, encouraged by the bond that only two misanthropes can share. Jokes were exchanged, brief biographies, appraising glances. Here hair was dark brown, shoulder length with a slight natural wave to it. Nice neck, with collar bones to match. Her cleavage was enticing too, a B or a C at most but nicely presented.

I didn’t notice she’d stopped talking, I was on my third beer and my mind was relaxing. “Are you looking at my tits.” She asked, amused.

“Yes.” Was the all I could think to say.

“Thank goodness you’re not gay.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.” I was puzzled.

Then I felt her hand grab my crotch. “Because you’ve been looking over there at the rugby player type and I couldn’t work out if it was so you could get a crafty look at my boobs or you fancied a prop forward.” She adjusted her grip, obviously enjoying the feeling of my erection through denim. “Are my boobs that good?”

“You have to ask?” I took half a step closer to her and pressed my groin against her. “I’m guessing that there’s a room free upstairs this early in the evening.”

“I’m hoping you’re right.” Replied Tina as I led her up the unfamiliar stairs.

The first room we visited was occupied, the creaking of the bed announcing it’s tenant’s carnal activities before we stepped through the doorway. The second room was free. A feeble bare 40 watt bulb filled the room with a yellow glow.

Tina sat on the bed before I closed the door. When I turned to face her she was patting the space next to her. Rather than join her I knelt between her legs and kissed her once on the lips. Her hand stroked the back of my neck.

I kissed down her neck, making her shudder and in a few moments was nuzzling between her boobs. She groaned her appreciation. My hand slid up her naked leg, traversing her thigh before reaching her pussy. Her legs parted, my fingers found their way inside, past her underwear and into her moistening slit.

I toyed with her for a moment, but she was impatient and could not quite reach the bulge in my groin that fascinated her. She lay back and I rolled over her onto the bed. Tina pushed me back onto the bed and unfastened my jeans. Her fingers insinuated themselves inside my boxers and stroked my cock. I reached down again and slid my hand inside her panties.

Her clitoris was easy to find as it was sensitive making her quiver with the slightest contact from my middle digit. We stared at each other, not with some new found love, but with fascination as each of us gently masturbated the other. Two people who had only met a few minutes before frigging and wanking in a third stranger’s bed.

“Are we bad people?” she asked with mock horror.

“Very, very bad, they’re the best kind”

I could smell her hot moist pussy, its aroma as much as her gentle wanking of my cock coaxing me towards the final destination. Her panties were soaked. Dipping my fingers further into her snatch I began to slosh around in her fluids. I curled my middle and ring finger inside her and found her g-spot.

She was fixed to the bed, her moans became gasps with a few firm strokes of my fingers. Moments later she came, covering my hand with a stream of fluid. I teetered on the brink of orgasm, the excitement of watching her writhe and moan driving me to climax.

Tina roused slightly from her post orgasmic haze and driven by a lustful enthusiasm pumped my cock with her fist. She slid down my chest and rested her head on my stomach. I thought she was about to take me in her mouth but she simply wanted to watch.

When I came in four or five powerful spasms I splashed my stomach and her face with my semen. She lifted her head and looked toward me, a white viscous streak on her cheek. She smiled for a moment then turned her attention to licking the cum from my stomach and cock.

Which is when the “Coat bedroom couple” stumbled in.

Girl In An Ivory Basque

Ivory BasqueThe second Christmas we were together I bought Suze a new outfit. It was an ivory coloured basque with suspenders, panties and some matching stockings.

At the time I remember writing on the gift tag “To Alex, from Alex”, as a joke. After all, I would be the one looking at it, right?

Suze loves nice underwear, she says it makes her feel feminine and special, glamorous even. She likes getting ready for a night out (I just about remember the last time we had one of those, I hate being broke), dressing up, making herself up.

I think it’s mainly because she doesn’t feel the need to spend hours each morning in the bathroom beautifying herself. Nor does she have to wear designer clothes to go to the supermarket, and normally she wears no makeup.

So when she does get dressed up/made up I suppose she feels like a different person.

Which is why, at the time, the joke I made was a joke. Since then I have come to realise it said more about my immaturity than I could ever imagine. Now I can’t help but be reminded of the line from Melanie Griffith in “Working Girl”, “Couldn’t he just once buy me something I can wear outside the bedroom”.

Because despite the fact that she enjoyed wearing it and the seeing her in it effect it had on me. And despite the fact that she felt sexy and glamorous in it … I had bought it for me. OK so a lack of imagination at that young age, and the knowledge that she would want to be wearing it while I fucked her can be presented in some way as mitigation, but when I think about it now it bothers me.

Here’s the thing. If you give someone a gift and you were thinking about yourself when you gave it, isn’t that selfish?

I suppose it’s a bit like the series of comedy sketches by Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse depicting two aging DJs “Smashey and Nicey”. One of them “Does a lot of work for charity”, but, “Doesn’t like to talk about it”. Of course he finds time to mention it in every show, I seem to remember him depicted as a deity of sorts tending to sick children in one sketch. Or was that Michael Jackson at the Brits? I forget.

Anyway, the point is giving your time or your money to charity is to be applauded. But then telling everyone about it makes people wonder about your motivation for giving in the first place.

Take for example Jimmy Saville, he used to be very high profile in his promotion of children’s charities/hospitals. In itself this was great and his style. He has quite a unique style :). But then again there’s another celeb, I think it was Norman Wisdom (apologies if it isn’t him), who would quietly slip into his local hospital, put on a porters uniform and simply work as a porter. Each to their own.

So there we are, back to motivation again. I’m not saying that either style of giving is more or less valid or useful to the causes in question, just different.

OK so the choice of present was not the most heinous of sins, but it does make me feel uncomfortable, even now.

Alcohol, Mishaps And Boobs

AlexSuzeI told you we went over to Busty’s last weekend for dinner which consisted of homemade Thai cuisine, it was delicious. Alex spent the night ogling Busty’s chest and because I was a little nervous I drank quite a few glasses of red.

Alex was driving so he refrained but thoroughly enjoyed the evening, and the company of course. I must say I was a little surprised by Busty’s choice of male companion, he was in part what I expected as she talks a lot about him and his faults at work.

However, I didn’t expect him to be quite so squeaky. He sounded like a pre pubescent boy waiting for his balls to drop. Lol I had envisaged that she like a masculine and musky male who would scoop her up and take care of her. On the contrary, it looked more like she was taking care of him. I must add at this juncture that he is younger than her and that may account for it.

Busty is a bit of a cradle snatcher! 🙂

Since our little soirée moments of the evening have popped up in conversation and she took great delight in pointing out that I was so busy (and probably drunk) to notice when Alex at the end of the evening helped me put my shoes on. I allegedly kept on turning to face her and moving my feet whilst he had great difficulty in fitting my shoes for me. Lol

I giggled when she told me this with a slight rose tint to my face. Although she wasn’t having a go at me, just laughing at the situation.

Well, today I got my chance to laugh at her. The office staff go together as we do when there are Birthdays for a quick drink and cakes to celebrate and recognise the day. As we stood in a large circle around the Birthday boy one of the guys from upstairs happened to mention that when the office staff last went out (I didn’t go) she had mentioned to a girl on the top floor that she was quite posh to come from **** (insert your inner city council estate here).

You should have seen her face, she couldn’t remember saying this to the girl and looked amazed. Until another member of staff agreed that she had said that. We all broke in to fits of laughter (the girl concerned wasn’t there).

I reassured her that know this girl, she would have took it in good spirit. There may be an apology on the horizon tomorrow, me thinks. 🙂

Secret Sexuality, Forbidden Fruits and Private Passion

AlexSuze.comI woke up this morning and lay in bed for a while thinking about the sort of relationship Suze and I have. As I spooned with her, enjoying the touch of her naked body on mine I considered the things about our life that we can share with the rest of the real world and those we can’t.

I often want to shout out and tell friends and family what we do online and be more honest about our attitudes towards sexuality. However society is not ready for that. Even with our relatively conventional sex life we would shock most people. Not because we do anything that should be considered particularly shocking but because most people seem to be in denial about the true nature of their sexuality and the sexuality of those around them.

Each person should be allowed to explore what sex means to them, in their own time, at their own pace. If they are not harming any one and everyone involved can give informed consent then where is the problem? Part of this train of thought is due to an article I posted yesterday on

It’s more than that though. Controlling sexuality is a tool for totalitarianism. Theological edicts on the “right” kind of sexuality have been used to guide followers of all religions and from there transferred to the legal system of secular societies. Often these are based in common sense, promoting the idea that people be faithful to one partner. On the whole this isn’t a bad idea because most people can’t handle ideas like polyamory, swinging or open relationships. They are difficult concepts to accept and deal with, and if you can’t deal with them a relationship can only go one way, down.

Early belief systems, secular or religious, had a few things in common. Namely that they generally advocated heterosexual relationships for the purposed of procreation. The recognition that sexuality is more complex than that has taken centuries to displace those one-dimensional beliefs.

Sadly it is still the case that some people are still shunned, or even worse persecuted for their sexuality. Indeed in some previously forward looking societies there is a movement to roll-back the hard-won recognition that people with different, non-monogamous, heterosexual, vanilla, sexualities are not monsters and will not undermine our society by their “deviance” from the narrow and prescriptive view of normality held by some people.

In light of which the fact that Suze and I have to be guarded about what we reveal to the real world about our sex lives and online activities is not such a problem after all.

Tags: BDSM, sexuality, homosexuality, polyamory, swinging, sex and law, religion, monogamy

Foursome Anyone?

Do you remember we went over to Busty’s for a lovely home cooked Thai meal and cleavage a couple of weeks ago. 😉 Well, today I decided that we ought to set a date for her and her vanity stricken boyfriend to come over to dine at our house.

I suggested a couple of potential dates, she could have accepted there and then but Mr Vain likes to watch his football so we are governed by his match fixtures. I’m hoping to hear within the next couple of days when we will be getting together.

I’m hoping that he offers to drive which means that Busty can let her hair down for the evening, unlike last time when she was cooking and playing the perfect DD host. 😉 At the time I didn’t consider where we all sat but I ended up selecting my seat which placed Alex directly in line of sight of her ample bosoms all evening.

Not until the next day did he mention this. I suppose it would be rather awkward to come out with it over the dinner table. Lol Apparently he had spent all night trying not to make it obvious that he was enjoying the view without either her or Mr Vain finding out.

It’s funny when you think about it, I spend all day trying not to get caught looking at her lovely curves. There have been the odd moments when I’m sure she may have seen my ogling momentarily but I think I got away with it. After all she must be used to it by now.

It reminds me of a conversation I once had with a client and he spent the whole time talking to my cleavage, not me. I should have bent my knees and met his gaze to say “hello”.

Right, so the question is…what should I cook for us? Her Thai dishes were wonderful and all of the meal was pre prepared and frozen days before, which only involves you reheating rather than having to cook on the night and ignoring your guests.

Any suggestions will be welcome. She has set the standard so high that I may be struggling to be anywhere as good. I may have to ply her with alcohol and offer her nibbles. 😉

I wonder if I could persuade her to stay the night…

The Master And the Maid

The Master reigned-in his horse to a gentle trot as he approached the house. He brought the mare to a halt outside its stable and handed the reigns to the stable boy, who touched the peak of his flat cap in deference. He walked across the cobbled yard to the entrance to the back stairs.

Reaching the top he was greeted by the maid. She curtseyed and followed him to his room.

She waited until he had thrown his jacket onto the bed and collapsed into his chair and then began to remove his clothing. She began with his soft leather riding boots. The smell of the leather made the hair on the back of her neck rise and seem to crackle.

Socks and breeches next. She looked up at her Master, his eyes were closed, apparently exhausted from his long ride. Her eyes dropped to his groin, woollen long johns covering his cock as it lay on his left thigh. Her hand slid up his leg and came to rest gently on his groin. The Master’s hand grabbed her exploring fingers.

“Did I tell you to touch me?” He demanded.

“No, Sir.” She whimpered, eyes downcast.

He chuckled. “Continue Lizzie, I was rather looking forward to your attentions.”
Relieved Lizzie slowly massaged her Master’s cock through the wool until it began to rise away from his leg. She licked her lips and looked imploringly into his eyes.

“A bath first.” He instructed.

The Master stood, allowing Lizzie to pull down his undergarments. Knelt in front of him his thick, veined cock, almost erect, danced in front of her face emitting a deep musky aroma.

They took the few short steps to the bathtub, already filled and steaming in the centre of the room. The master stepped in and settled into the water. Lizzie reached for the soap and, beginning with his head and neck started to wash her Master. He lay back, letting her cleanse his body of the sweat and grime of the ride. She carefully washed every centimetre of his skin but avoided his groin until last.

Her hands finally dipped under the surface and took hold of his hard shaft. His hips rose, pushing his cock and balls above the water, allowing her to apply soap and gently stroke it clean with both hands. From tip to balls she work his prick, cupping his testicles and washing his perineum.

The Master’s eyes were closed, his body undulating as Lizzie played with his cock. The water sloshed from side to side in the bath, splashing her uniform.

“Enough.” Said The Master, opening his eyes. “Dry me.”

He stood and stepped out of the bath. Lizzie gently patted him dry with a soft cotton towel. She lifted the moisture from his body with care and thoroughness, ensuring that she brushed against his erect cock every so often, knowing how sensitive it must be. When she had completed her task she walked to the four poster bed.

The Master watched her lift up her short skirt, revealing the stockings and suspenders he insisted she always wore. Her thumbs hooked inside the waistband of her silk knickers and pulled them over her hips. She let them drop to the floor and kicked them to one side. Ready for him now, she leant forward, crawled onto the mattress and waited.

The Master pushed her skirt up to reveal a round backside. He slipped his fingers between her labia and revelled in the warm, wet folds of her lips. He found her clit and toyed with it, eliciting whimpering moans. His index and middle finger slipped inside her, feeling her heat, invading her. He withdrew them and knelt on the bed behind her.

She felt him push against her opening then slide inside her cunt, centimetre after beautiful centimetre of hard, broad cock. He filled her and did not stop until his balls rested against her skin. Strong hands gripped her wait. He started to fuck her, without care for her pleasure, he was after all The Master, this was for his gratification.

But His pleasure was her pleasure, not simply knowing that he was excited by the increasingly powerful assault on her pussy he was administering, but because she felt both out of control, but also under His control, in His care. Lizzie felt her wetness rising, her slit first slick then running with excitement until his thrusts were accompanied by sloshing, splashing sounds, her wetness running down both their thighs.

The smell of her was what tipped the Master over the edge. She felt his speed changed, the pulsating of his cock, or did she just imagine that, whatever it was she knew he was filling her with hot, white cum. He grunted and growled from deep in his throat and with a final buck of his hips sent her face first onto the bed, then collapsed beside her.