A Rabbit's Tale

It’s a coincidence that my last post was about sex toys as this week I was party to a related incident. I used to enjoy flying. Handy as I have to attend a number of overseas porn shows. But I have to admit recently it has become a complete pain in the arse. I know the extended security measures are for our protection. The problem is it now seems to take 4 hours to board a plane for a 40 minute flight. Plus, since the liquid restrictions have been in place 180 quid’s worth of my top-notch, designer make-up has inexplicably gone astray in the X-ray machine. But that’s another story.

Though flying for me has become a real drag, my last trip back from Munich was livened up thanks to an elderly couple. We were at the last security check before boarding. The one where you have to surrender your Evian bottle just in case it’s a dirty bomb. As I waited in line, I noticed a beautiful leather bag being pulled aside for inspection. An elderly couple indicated it was theirs and I watched as Mr Security Guard opened it and removed a few items. Mr & Mrs Elderly must have been in their 80s. They were incredibly stylish and impeccably dressed. He had the air of a retired Swiss banker and she looked like she owned a collection of fur coats. They reeked of old money.

While I watched them, I daydreamed about a life where I had enough cash to afford such exquisite hand luggage. Suddenly I was shaken back to life by a familiar sound. When my eyes focused, I saw Mr Security Guard juggling an enormous, bright pink jelly rabbit complete with clit-tickling tongue. He must have accidentally switched it on and judging by the noise, he’d racked it up to full speed. I don’t know if it was the sudden realisation of what he was holding. Or whether it was the first time he’d seen such a massive sex toy (we’re talking a whopping 10 inch vibe.) Or that he wasn’t expecting it to vibrate quite so violently. But a second later, it slipped out of his hand, flip-flapped on the counter making enough noise to alert everyone around and then fell to the floor where it continued to move like a huge, penis-shaped fish out of water.

There was a collective shocked silence and for a moment all you could hear was the vibrator as it travelled across the floor. Mr & Mrs Elderly held their composure and stood like expensively dressed statues, staring straight ahead. Mr Security Guard’s embarrassment had caused him to sweat profusely and he had turned an odd shade of red. He suddenly dashed to retrieve the offending item. Each time he tried, the rabbit just hopped right out of his shaking hands. By then the silence had been broken and the air began to fill with stifled giggles and murmurs as the passengers watched on.

I don’t know if it was the pornographer in me or just my familiarity with sex toys but I did the dutiful thing. I reached down and picked up the rabbit, switched it off, returned it to the counter and then stood back in line. Like I said in my last post, any sex toy with a jelly surface seems to attract all manner of dirt and dust and I noticed that this one now had a coating of greyish gunk from the floor.

Mr Security Guard got up off his knees and gave me a nod of gratitude as he returned to his counter. The surrounding passengers erupted into hysterical laughter. Mr & Mrs Elderly remained rooted to the spot, their gaze transfixed. If they were embarrassed, as I’m sure anyone would be had their 10 inch jelly vibe performed acrobatics in front of 50 strangers, it didn’t show on their faces. Mr Security Guard, obviously wanting the whole affair to end, hurriedly threw all their possessions back into their expensive bag. Just as he reached out for the gunked-up rabbit, Mrs Elderly picked it up, walked with dignity over to the nearest bin and threw it away. She linked arms with her husband. Or was it her husband? And they both disappeared to catch their plane.

Is Plastic Wanktastic?

While clearing out my wardrobe I discovered a forgotten drawer full of freebie dildos and vibrators. Some are porn shoot leftovers while others I’ve acquired in exchange for my porno movies. The reason I had to brush the cobwebs off the toy box is because I have one all-time favourite vibrator which is far too good to mingle with the common hoi polloi and instead has pride of place by the bed or in my handbag, depending on my mood.

I have a strict 'one in, one out' wardrobe policy which has obviously failed as I always need more drawer space so the sex toys had to go. But what should I do with them all? I have tried every one at least once so I could hardly give them away or sell them on eBay! And I don’t think my local charity shop would appreciate a delivery of used ‘marital aids’ (albeit from one careful lady owner).

While pondering my dilemma, I came to the conclusion that most sex toys are bloody ugly (especially plastic dildos which in my opinion are also useless). Who the hell wants the classic, bright pink, odd-shaped cock-a-likey? I have a particular disgust for any any vibe or dildo with a smiley face or those shaped like a deformed telletubby or a dolphin or a giraffe or whatever…

I have to admit Candida Royalle’s Natural Contours collection does look a bit more classy and could be mistaken for some trendy Phillipe Starkesque kitchen utensils. Supposedly the range was inspired by the contours of a woman’s body. I have the Superb model which is the medium size, lime green one. When I hold it to my fanny it doesn’t really do much other than make a hell of a noise and vibrate very mildly. It is either completely bollocks or I should consult my doctor about my misshapen 'contours'!

There are also a number of 'rabbits' lurking in the drawer. Thanks to Sex In The City and TV appearances from the likes of Graham Norton and Jonathan Ross, the rampant rabbit has become a fashion accessory. I just don’t get it. In the drawer there is a lurid purple one with beads inside. There’s a vivid green one smiling at me. Yuk. Another has a jelly surface which attracts fluff, hair and dust from miles around. And the last is a waterproof model with a brick sized remote that weighs a ton. It’s hard to choose between them. Um? Er? Actually they’re all rubbish! I’ll freely admit I’m biased as my favourite vibrator is just so much better…

In fact my vibrator is practically perfect in every way and it guarantees me a mind-shattering orgasm every time. It looks a bit like a trendy metal key ring. Very simple in design - a metal rod about 10 cm long with a screw attached to the bottom. What makes it so impressive is the incredibly powerful, yet silent motor. Just turn the screw and you get va va va va va va vooooooooooom… with hardly a sound (if you ignore the noise I make). You can stick it wherever you fancy or just get off by using its explosive might. It’s made from the same material as piercing jewellery so it’s hygienic and easy to clean. I know the blurb on the back of every vibrator box promises power and stealth but with mine it‘s true. Aside from myself or my man, nothing can turn me on and get me off faster.

Let me tell you the story of how I acquired this precious metal object. At trade shows, just before it’s time to pack up the stands, there’s always a frenzied swoparama between exhibitors. That year I was having fun with the Wildcat boys who had spent the entire show swigging Jack Daniels out of Vince Ray mugs and eyeing up the ladies. That’s Rock ‘n’ Roll! We have a perfect symbiotic relationship – they love porn and my movies in particular and I love their glass dildos and rocker jewellery. I handed over a stack of films and they presented me with, amongst other things, the metal vibrator. I was impressed with its stylish looks but completely blown away when they turned it on. Straight away I headed for the ladies loo and boy did it get me going! Orgasm over and still slightly flushed, I legged it back to their stand and put in an order for 20. That was birthday and Christmas presents sorted for all my girlfriends.

A few weeks later, the rock ‘n’ rollers called with bad news. The genius old codger who had invented the incredibly powerful yet silent motor had disappeared. Nobody knew if he had died, retired or gone out of business. He’d vanished and taken his secret with him. Damm that man! Didn’t he know that there were women out there in need of his invention? I was gutted for my girlfriends, but in a selfish way relieved that I had mine.

Wildcat have since recreated the vibrator with a new motor. I haven’t tried it so I can’t comment on the power. Go to the Wildcat website and search for VIB3 Unisex Internal Vibrator. It amazes me that such a powerful little sex machine is simply referred to as VIB3!

Recently there has been a lot of talk about the Rock Chick which is hands-free and stimulates the G-spot and the clit. I have made a declaration of love / lust to my metal vibrator ‘til death do us part, but I might be fickle… If I do I’ll report back.

So there I was bagging up the vibes and dildos when I got an idea. Every where I look these days I see ads encouraging us to recycle our broken or unused mobile phones. It’s good for the environment and they get sent to people in need. Maybe I should launch a similar service for sex toys? Do my bit for the community and reduce my carbon vag-print.

The Girl With A One Track Mind

It all started when I was waiting for a train to take me up north for the weekend. There were the usual delays so I tackled the physically demanding assault course that is buying a book in a minuscule magazine kiosk. Amid thousand of other pissed off commuters, I browsed the special offers and emerged exhausted with a copy of Girl With A One Track Mind (because I liked the cover).

I was vaguely aware of Abby Lee's book. I knew that she was a woman whose high sex drive had caused quite a stir. What I didn't realise was that she is a blogosphere legend with 100,000 readers a month all eager to find out about her latest real life sexploits. (I get excited when I get 1 comment, I can't imagine what it must be like writing for 100,000 fans!)

Anyway, there I was whiling away the time with Girl With A One Track Mind and I have to say I was shocked. Not shocked in a Mary Whitehouse way but shocked that a fairly innocent looking book contained such graphic sex. Her writing is genuine and frank with stories of fucking strangers in pub toilets, alfresco wanking, S&M and rock hard cocks being shoved up her arse. And anybody, including a young impressionable teenager could have easy access to this material.

If I'm honest, I'm a bit jealous. I deal in porno, with moving images of strangers getting fucked in toilets, wanking and rock hard cocks, and my business is heavily restricted by UK law. So how come there are none of these restrictions when it comes to reading about X-rated sex? Can I deduce that words do not deprave and corrupt but moving images obviously do? Dress hardcore sex up as something else, i.e. a French arthouse film or Abby Lee's book, and you have no problem...

So I read Girl With A One Track Mind and despite getting angry that her book is available everywhere and my movies are not, I really enjoyed it. I got so turned on that I suggested to my boyfriend that we have sex in the train toilet, but that's another story... (Sounds like a porn script, doesn't it?)

Her sexploits are honest and I love her philosophical attitude to sex (is that sexophical?) But I found the ending quite intriguing. It seemed to me that she loved every minute of her explicit sexual journey whether it was a one night stand or lesbian lust or being a voyeur at a sex club orgy, but ultimately she realized that to have the intimacy of a relationship she ought to give up instant gratification fucking. If that was the case could her blog exist beyond the book? Whether this was intentional or not that got me reading online and now I’m hooked.

I read other blogs (mostly those about sex) on a regular basis, all of which are beautifully written (I’m always envious) and make me think and / or laugh. But there’s something about Girl With A One Track Mind that keeps me coming back for more. I think I’m addicted for three reasons:

1. She genuinely lays herself bare (no pun intended) and exposes ALL aspects of her sex life which makes it so compelling.

2. The girliness. Despite being overtly sexually and admitting to wanking three times a day, she still gets upset when the guy doesn’t call. She has a fancy knickers fetish and explains in minute detail about blowing her budget on the latest silky purchase. My girly fetish is expensive skincare, different product same thing.

3. Her passion seems to rub off on me and I find myself agreeing and disagreeing with her in equal measure. I wholehearted agree with her pro-safe sex message. One of her posts reads:

“People like to fuck.
People will fuck.
Throwing money at teaching young people not to fuck doesn't work.
Spending money educating young people about fucking safely, does work however, resulting in lower rates of STIs and teenage pregnancy.

Advocate condoms not abstinence: it's common fucking sense.”

I think that is marvelous. Being a big-titted woman myself, I don’t agree with the fact that she loves having big tits but hates people looking at them. If you don’t want strangers to stare at your cleavage either cover it up or get over it. Men are obsessed with boobs – as I have already posted.

All in all, I say well done Abby. It is a joy to read about an intelligent woman loving sex. Long may she shag. And if you are reading this and fancy trying your hand at porno, let me know as I’ll be the first to offer you an audition.

Sex Education

One of the weird things about porn being your job is that sooner or later your parents will ask you work-related questions. Being a convent girl from a good Catholic family, I did not receive any formal sex education. Instead I remember being taken to the library by my older sister who thrust a book into my hands which showed an anatomical line drawing of a couple during intercourse. The guy was on top with his hands by his side about 2 inches above the women. As a result for years I believed that the cock muscle was so strong it could support a guy's entire body weight so he could sort of levitate during the act of lovemaking. I spent many years thinking about this and wondered if the cock muscle could always perform the levitation trick or was it just in female company that it gained it's super-power!

Thankfully, 30 years on and my knowledge of all things sexual is much more extensive. Despite the fact that I spend a lot of my working day talking about sex, I still find it a little tricky when my parents grill me for information. I know most people don't want to think about their folks having a sex life (I'm cringing now as I write this) but count yourself lucky that you do not need to explain the finer points of sex play to your mum and dad!

When I started the business my mother wanted to watch one of our movies as she had never seen a “pornographic picture” before. I told her that I would happily give her a VHS (it was 8 years ago) but she couldn't watch it in front of me. She sharply told me to stop being so prudish and proceeded to watch the movie in my office. Her deadpan expression remained unchanged as she sat through blow jobs, threesomes and a bit of girl girl action. When it finished she proclaimed “there's an awful lot of penis licking.” She was right, porn does involve an awful lot of penis licking.

A few years later our printers produced a calendar with a glossy, double-entendre picture for each month. Two iced buns looking like tits, that sort of thing. My Dad loves a good calendar. He uses it to mark down the cricket and rugby dates, so I gave him one. Everything was fine until he called asking about November. This is how the conversation went:

Dad: Great calendar, thanks darling.
Me: You're welcome.
Dad: There's one thing, I don't understand November, it's a picture of a necklace.
Me: Yes, a pearl necklace.
Dad: So what is the double-entendre?
Me: Dads, it's a PEARL NECKLACE.
Dad: But what does that represent? I asked the lads down the pub and they didn't know.
Me: [sighing and cringing at the same time] OK, um, ah... well what does a guy do when he has sex?
Dad: Inserts his willy into a woman.
Me: [more blushes] Yes, and what, um, er... happens when a bloke plays with his willy? [why on earth am I referring to it as a willy???]
Dad: He ejaculates.
Me: [cringing so badly I'm doubled over at the other end of the phone] Yes and where does he ejaculate?
Dad: Inside a woman.
Me: Yes, but um... where else can he ejaculate?
Dad: [confused] On the floor?
Me: [at the end of my tether and talking really quickly] A pearl necklace is when a guy falls short of cumming on a girl's face, hence pearl necklace. [Ah, relief!]
Dad: [amazed] Really, that's a pearl necklace? Well I'll get brownie points from the lads for knowing that, thanks darling.
Me: [still sighing and cringing] My pleasure Dads!!!

The pearl necklace conversation was just the start. Since then my Dad has asked me if double anal is “two willies in the bumhole”? Answer: Yes. “How do you shoot a double anal scene?” Answer: With great difficulty. And finally after watching Brokeback Mountain, he quizzed me about gay sex. A key moment in the film is the sex scene between two macho cowboys, shot in such a way that you only see their silhouettes projected onto the side of the tent. Dads was under the impression that all gay men did was wank together and was quite surprised when I told him that they do have anal sex.

We all know our parents have sex, how else would we be here? I have 3 sisters, so mine have obviously have done 'it' more than once. Despite this, discussing sex with my parents is an odd role reversal that still makes me a little uncomfortable. I thought I had rid myself of all the Catholic convent girl repressions, but being open and frank to your folks about the ins and outs of sex is one hang-up I think I'll hold on to.

Women and Porn Lesson 1

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BOYS TOYS AND TITS

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Porno Food

We have instigated a new lunchtime regime at work. We take it in turns to cook. I say 'we' but actually I'm not part of the cooking rota because I can't cook.

Since we started, a plan has been hatched to create a cookbook. We have had hours of fun designing this imaginary book, which has been titled 'PornoFood: recipes from the kitchen of Hot Rod Productions.' The book would combine glossy, hardcore pics with simple, healthy recipes. Sounds good, eh? All we need now is a publishing deal.

I ought to mention that there are a few rules to our smut-inspired lunches:
1. Every dish has to be christened with a porno name.
2. The budget is £1 per person per day. Depending on how many people are at work, lunch ranges from the expensive, like 'Piss On My Rice Bitch', to today's dirt cheap Brigitte Bui dish which cost an unbelievable 38p per head.
3. Where possible we use organic vegetables, the dirtier the better.
4. All dishes must be made and enjoyed within the 1 hour lunchbreak.
5. Friday is dessert day, money permitting.
6. The cook doesn't wash up.

One of our staple lunches is 'Lesbian Stew' thus named as there's no meat in it. For cold winter days there's 'Hot Rod Hot Pot' or a particular Geordie favourite 'Toad in My Juicy Hole.' There's also 'Cock Soup' which sounds disgusting but is actually delicious when made by my sausage-obsessed Polish assistant.

'Stuffed Lolly' is named after the Great British porn star Lolly Badcock as a roasted red pepper looks just like her stretchy labia. Lolly's labia lips are discussed at length most lunchtimes, today being no different.

'Piss on My Rice Bitch' is one of our posher recipes. It is a feta cheese risotto with lemon grass. Now on to the Brigitte Bui dishes... Brigitte Bui is a stunning Italian 21 year old, ex-model turned porn star. Busty and blonde with legs up to her armpits, everyone agrees she is absolutely drop dead gorgeous and very, very sexy. Problem is she fucks like a plank. So Brigitte Bui dishes looks great but are actually tasteless.

For dessert there's the scrumptious 'Banana Rimmers.' Melt a massive bar of Dairy Milk chocolate in a bit of full-fat milk and pour the gooey, pooey mixture over the bananas and there you have it... Banana Rimmers. Eat and enjoy, safe in the knowledge that it is so calorific that it is actually off the scale, which means that it's on a par with calorie free. That's girl thinking!!!

Aside from the health benefits of a hearty home-cooked porno meal, another good reason for our lunchtime get-togethers is that we sit round the boardroom table and chat. Today the conversation started with the problems associated with shooting a DP (double penetration). Then we discussed bank charges. Followed by a lube review where we came to the conclusion that warming lube is a complete waste of time as who'd want to rub chilli on their fanny! This lead us on to herbal viagra and we decided that 'Golden Root' does the trick. Then our favourite topic of conversation - just how stretchable are Lolly Badcock's lips? And we finished off chastising Jenna Jameson for being far too thin and Katsumi for have surgery. Not bad for 30 mins.

I love my lunchtimes. They're the perfect chance to get away from my desk, eat good food (unless it's a Brigitte Bui dish) and gossip about sex. What more could a girl, who can't cook, ask for?