Rolling Back The Years… Cake’s Arse – Owned

It was with some shock that I awoke one morning some years ago to discover that another blogger had somehow bought Joanna Cake on a virtual stock exchange.

I was rather alarmed at the sinister nature of this covert attack where I was completely unaware of my stalker until he had got his hands on almost the entirety of my arse and listed it as an Adultery Blog!

This was a hostile takeover by an infamous raider and I went looking for other bloggers who might be prepared to take on the role of white knight or killer bee in an attempt to limit the damage.

Fortunately for me, the epitome of an English gentleman bought me back and generously returned my independence by handing me the shares.

Originally posted 2008-03-19 10:35:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Sugasm #134

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #135? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Tantra is work and a two way street “Tantra is hard work and is not all light and orgasmic play.”

Nyotaimori “She smiles wantonly, but says nothing.”

Submit “But when you’re really attracted to someone, and part of that attraction is to their dominance, it almost gives you a second wind for pain.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice Discussing a lifestyle event with strangers

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Originally posted 2008-06-03 01:19:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

UnderRated: The Month of May

“Ne’er cast a clout ’til May is out”

According to the Phrase Finder, the earliest citation of ‘N’er cast a clout till May be out’ (never discard your warm winter clothing until the end of the month of May) is the version of the rhyme, Gnornologia(1732) from Dr Thomas Fuller: ‘Leave not off a clout till May be out'; although it probably existed by word-of-mouth since at least the early 15th century.

It probably referred to the blossom of the Hawthorn tree which was once known simply as ‘May’ and comes in various stunning shades, rather than the month itself.

Add that to the colourful hues of the many varieties of flowering cherries blooming locally, which range from almost cerise all the way through to the palest of pinks, plus a large number of types of large and small-flowered clematis and you will understand my assertion that May is the best month for being outside, even if you do sometimes need a cardy.

The last few days of beautifully warm sunshine, truncated suddenly by rather more inclement conditions, reminds me of how much I love this time of year. It is so unpredictable, with the possibility of the occasional rogue April shower or a blustery gale, followed the next day by temperatures soaring into the high twenties or, perhaps, the more usual wet, damp drizzle that precedes an English summer of more of the same.

I got married in early May on a very warm day. They say that the sun always shines on the righteous and that this weather predicted a happy future for both of us. *Insert your own suitable expletive here*

Anne Boleyn was both crowned in May and then executed almost exactly three years later. Most films about her life show her stopping to admire a sprig of hawthorne as she walked to both events and whispering: ‘The Month is May’.

Perhaps it’s not the luckiest of months but it’s certainly a beautiful one and no less appreciated, especially when the breeze gets up and you are surrounded by a blizzard of sweet smelling blossoms.

And, over here in the UK, it has the added bonus of containing two bank holidays. What’s not to like about two extra days off in the space of one month?


Originally posted 2009-05-15 15:53:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

UnderRated: Television that Shaped my Life

Over the years I have been an avid television watcher and there are many programmes and series for which, pre-video, I would drop everything to enjoy. Appointment television I believe it is called. The world stopped for those programmes. Dinner was arranged to be finished before it started. The Onedin Line, Howard’s Way, Dallas and the like. Sunday night blockbusters… (was Dallas on a Sunday or midweek?). Anyway, great series but not life-changing ones like the list below:

Star Trek
My mother used to watch this every week. I grew up worshipping Captain James Tiberius Kirk (and still retain a fondness for William Shatner in his elderly incarnation as Denny Crane of Boston Legal). He was the hero who came through for his people every time, with the aid of his faithful cohorts, Spock, McCoy, Scottie, Chekhov, Sulu and Uhuru. It was a series that gave us ‘logic’, the first inter-racial television kiss and androids. I retained a healthy fear of several of the aliens for many years – the horrible biped dinosaur-type monster that Kirk had to fight single-handed, the ‘bumheads’ who messed with your brain so you saw what they wanted you to see and who could forget the wonderful self-propagating tribbles?

The Six Wives of Henry VIII
Keith Michell as the eponymous King and Dorothy Tutin as Anne Boleyn, with Anne Stallybrass (who would later go on to be Mrs Onedin) as Jane Seymour. Riproaring historical drama, but with a keen eye for the facts as they were known in those days. All those heaving breasts and lusty kisses… but it is the image of the musician, Mark Smeaton, with the scabs and bruises all over his face after he had been tortured with a knotted rope being pressed into his head and tightened that will stay with me forever. It was history brought to life, desanitized and real. And it was on after 9pm so I wasn’t allowed to watch it first time around when I was only nine. It was repeated again when I was 12 or 13 and I was still considered too young to watch it because it had ‘scenes of a sexual nature’. However, I was lucky enough to have a very unreliable black and white tv in my room with a portable aerial and, if I kept the volume low, I could watch most of it before my parents came up to bed and caught me watching something unsuitable.

I Claudius
At that time, I never noticed the cardboard scenery and that they wore the same costumes all the time. This was history on a shoestring budget but the amazing scripts and fantastic performances transcended all that and took you back to a time of poisonous assassinations and the political machinations of a dynasty. Orgies and decadence and murder. Derek Jacobi was unforgettable in the stuttering title role and supported by such theatrical giants as Brian Blessed, Sian Phillips (who brought such menace to the scheming Livia), Patrick Steward (with hair – long before his incarnation as Jean Luc Picard on the Starship Enterprise) and John Hurt as the totally psychopathic Caligula. Magical.

The World at War

With a strong Jewish presence in my family, this series was a timely reminder of just how lucky I was even to have been born. The eye witness accounts, the grainy footage from official newsreel and the immense commentary from Sir Laurence Olivier made this an unmissable, salutary and sometimes terrifying feast.

Blue Peter
What can I say? The seminal children’s programme. How fortunate was I to grow up in the era of Valerie Singleton, Peter Purves and John Noakes, not to mention Petra and Shep? Brave exploits, great endeavours with sticky back plastic and the notorious pooping elephant.

Hill Street Blues
This was a strange one. It was on at 10pm and I was working so I couldn’t watch it very often. But it grew on me to the stage that I was prepared to risk being bleary-eyed at work the following morning. Steven Bochco’s hand-held camera and the unforgettably haunting theme music made it so different to any police show that I had watched before – and I had been a great fan of Softly, Softly and Starsky and Hutch. This was an ensemble piece with no vaunted lead and they all played their part in melding together such a realistic picture of life in a US metropolitan police station.


Another ensemble piece but this time from Marshall Hersgowicz and Edward Zwick and with an earworm of a theme tune by W Snuffy Walden, complete with a baby’s giggle. A feelgood series about a group of people of a certain age starting families, coping with being a parent and all the responsibility it entails. Couples loving each other, hating each other, fighting and making up. It was everything I wanted my marriage to be… and wasn’t. I was in love with the impossibly beautiful Michael Steadman and envious of his immensely capable wife, Hope, and the love they had for each other but it wasn’t until the series had ended and I had my own small child that I could actually empathise with them.

Sex and The City
I don’t think I can quite describe the open-mouthed shock with which I watched this series back in 1998. I was a mother of two, wearing leggings and big baggie tshirts and feeling that no one would ever lust after me again. So here were these four women discussing sexual acts that I had never even heard of. It was energising and exciting. The episodes I remember most? Well the one about the ‘up the butt girl’ and of course Charlotte’s introduction to the Rabbit. It would still take me several more years before I actually got anywhere near one but it was Carrie and co who made the transition possible and Samantha who imbued me with a far more healthy attitude to sex.

Boston Legal
Allan Shore and Denny Crane behaving badly, with the help of Candice Bergen’s Shirley Schmidt and her blow-up doll lookylikey. Completely bizarre and full of cases that would surely never get to trial in the real world but which so definitely should have. A programme that encourages the idea of male bonding and elderly people finding love and having sex.

The L Word
A programme that has helped me to start to examine my attitude towards sex and my own sexuality.

Television has no influence on us? I don’t think so.


Blog every day in May


Originally posted 2008-05-15 23:38:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Sugasm #100

What can I say…? A big big thank you to everyone who voted for me x

And kudos to Juno who, I believe, has had 25 picks out of the 100 Sugasms and three in a row that I do know of! Well Done Mrs!

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #101? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
Note: Usually I only post the top chunk of the Sugasm to save on space. Since this is the 100th issue I’m posting the whole thing.

This Week’s Picks

Do you want me…?

“The shiver that runs through you tells me everything I need to know.”

Love that ass (his perspective)

“But as long as we are in here, she submits to my command; to my every whim.”

Hubb and Spoeker

“He was good for show and good in bed, but an asshole in the real world.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself

125 Magazine, Alternet and Enviromentally Friendly Porn

Editor’s Choice

The very best of Sugasm…. so far

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

Being Stuck Outside

Dominance, Submission, Humiliation, Control

Miscarriage and Feminine Identity

The next colonel sanders or orville redenbacher

No more pen and sexSex on the first date???

What Is Mary Hiding?

Why “Sugasm” Matters

Sex Work

Do you like phone sex?

La Petite Mort

Sex Work And Religion: The Sex Crazed Pagan Cult Fantasy

NSFW Pics & Videos

I could watch her do laundry all day!

Just Teen Site Releases All New Nude Videos

Red RoseToday’s Special Offer: Fresh Hamburgers

Sex News & Reviews

Belated Happy 2nd Blogiversary to My Bottom Smarts!

Fetish Film – How to Use Sounds (Urethral Sounds)

First Purity Balls, Now Integrity Balls

It’s HERE!!!! Miss Francy’s “Spanking the Male Mind”!

Team Up with the 6th Annual Blogger Boobie-Thon

BDSM & Fetish

Back To School

Catalina loves Chat

Dancing with the Devil, a D/s Relationship

The Dungeon: Sex Camp, Night One

Fuck of a Lifetime



I Got Your Number



My Wife is a Skank! pt1

A Nawty Story: Diane Phones Home

Objets d’obsession: neck corsets

Our game

Piss Slut

Who is Elise Sutton and why does it matter?

Erotic Writing and Experiences

100 Sexy

An Affair with the Wind

Corseting Mrs. Russian

Burlesque: Home Coming


I Succumb to Jefferson’s Dastardly Lesbian Plot!

More Than A Breast-Fondle

The Morning RolloverParty Blowjob – Part 3

Kis Lee helps us celebrate the 100th Sugasm.

Originally posted 2007-10-09 06:06:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Times Letter Reunites Wartime Couple

I posted this story recently because it really touched me.

Last weekend, they published an update article, which I thought some of you might enjoy.

The last time that Harold Pettinger saw Dorothy Eastwood was on a station platform in Cape Town 68 years ago, the tearful end of a wartime romance that was always destined to end in such a parting.

Two young people thrown together by fate — he was a 20-year-old officer heading off to fight in the Middle East, she was an 18-year-old girl on her way to a new life in what was then Rhodesia. They had met on board a steamer on the voyage from London, fallen in love and then gone their separate ways, knowing that they would probably never see each other again.

The only memento that Mr Pettinger had was the telegram she sent him shortly after they parted. “All my love. Best of luck, Dorothy.”

For more than half a century they spent their lives thousands of miles apart, he in England, she (now Mrs Crombie) in Zimbabwe. But as fate drew them together on the liner RMS Ceramic, they have now been reunited — thanks to a letter in The Times.

Last November Mr Pettinger went to the Field of Remembrance at Westminster Abbey with his son, Martin. Twice he took a cab that day, and twice the drivers refused to take money from an old soldier with so many medals. One of them said that he owed Mr Pettinger more than any fare. Martin Pettinger described their kindness in a letter to The Times, which was reprinted in The Week.

Five thousand miles away in Zimbabwe, an elderly widow picked up a copy of The Week, saw the letter and noticed Martin Pettinger’s name at the bottom. “The name just came up and hit me,” Mrs Crombie, now 87, said. “I thought, ‘This has got to be his son’.”

Although she had made her own life in Zimbabwe — she married a pilot, and had three children — she had never forgotten Mr Pettinger. “I often wondered how he was doing,” she said. “Every now and then something would happen — an old tune you heard on the boat would be played and you would go back to the old Ceramic days. The big one was Blue Moon — that was our tune.”

Their meeting had been a dramatic one. Mrs Crombie, who was on her way to live with an uncle, was sharing a cabin with her sister, and a young mother with a son. “My sister was seasick and this other woman, who was nearest the door, was in a bad way, too. A drunken sailor burst into our cabin and tried to get into bed with her.

“I knew there were a couple of strapping Army officers in the cabin opposite, so I banged on their door and said, ‘Can you help?’ Harold came bursting out and dispatched the fellow forthwith.”

It was the first time that they had talked, but from there, the relationship blossomed. “He was quite a dashing young fellow,” Mrs Crombie said.

“She was a nice girl,” said Mr Pettinger, who was a second lieutenant with the York and Lancaster Regiment. “I always liked blondes. She was always smiling. She was a lovely girl. Who could not be attracted?”

Small memories survive: playing bridge and housey-housey on board, going up Table Mountain, having dinner together at an hotel in Cape Town.

Then, their parting. “I was a miserable heap,” Mrs Crombie said. “That is why I sent him a telegram from Kimberley — I was on my way up to Rhodesia at that stage. When the war was on, everything was so uncertain. We did keep in touch. I think that we imagined that we might see each other again after the war.”

“I was very sorry,” Mr Pettinger, now 89, said. “But you had to be practical. I was on the way to the Middle East. There was nothing I could do. I just had to say a fond farewell, hoping I could see her again but knowing that it was pretty remote.”

They kept in touch for a while. But Mrs Crombie stayed in Rhodesia, while Mr Pettinger, who won the Military Cross at Tobruk, returned to England, married, and spent his career working for Otis, the lift company.

Two lives went by. Then, the letter in The Times. Mrs Crombie tried to track down Martin Pettinger, but failed. This year she took advantage of the Government’s repatriation scheme to live near East Grinstead in West Sussex, to be near her son. She made another attempt to track down Martin Pettinger, this time successfully. “I wanted to phone Harold,” Mrs Crombie said. “But Martin said he had to phone him first. He said, ‘He’s going to have a heart attack’.”

After discovering that Mr Pettinger was living only 33 miles away, in Cobham in Surrey, they met a fortnight ago. They met at 10am and did not stop talking until Mrs Crombie left at 7pm. “I was delighted,” said Mr Pettinger, whose wife died 21 years ago. “But, if we passed in the street, neither of us would have known each other.”

“I was amazed that it was quite comfortable from the word go,” said Mrs Crombie. “It did not take long to get back to where we were.”

And, yes, now what? “We are getting a bit ancient,” said Mrs Crombie. “We are just enjoying what is left. It is nice just to coast along and see each other from time to time.”

“Take it steady, old chap,” Mr Pettinger said. “There’s not much life left in this old dog.”

But somehow there seems to be a bit more than there was before Mrs Crombie turned up again.

I just think it gives us all hope for the future.

Originally posted 2009-12-20 10:21:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter


My shoulder hurts

My lower back groans

My thighs throb

My hips creak

My buttocks smart

My adductors burn

My cunt is numb

My arse stings

My nipples prickle

My skin tingles

My mind wants to lose itself in the sleep of exhaustion

After seven weeks of barren frustration, culminating in five days of rampant excess, I ache all over

But my smile is beatific

And I know that every cell in my body is alive…

Originally posted 2008-03-26 13:10:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Sugasm #157

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #158? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

A 2009 Wish For Smut Writers “Sex bloggers are on the cusp of what I see as being a new kind of sexual revolution.”

Q&A with Domina Doll “I enjoy teaching others how to explore that aspect of themselves.”

Overtaken “He kissed the side of my neck, sweeping my long hair out of the way, working his mouth across the side of my neck to press little bites along my collarbone.”

Sugasm Editor Sex Work And Honesty: When The Truth Hurts

Editor’s Choice Dictation with Davis

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Originally posted 2009-01-28 16:59:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Rampant Rabbits – The Big O Review

"rampant-rabbits"Now, you will recall that I have not always been the biggest fan of rampant rabbits, having left a trail of discombobulated versions in my wake. I also intensely dislike the whole ‘ears’ thing.

However, after I reviewed the Rampant Rabbit Deluxe Thruster, I was rather more receptive to their charms – except for my feelings about the ears which were still just too sharp.

So, when the lovely people at Ann Summers asked if I would like to review the very newest incarnation of their rampant rabbit range – and before it had even hit the shops – I jumped at the chance to check out the latest improvements.

Sadly, when the postman handed over my latest parcel, I was also extremely busy, so it was another week before it even saw the light of day and then it was Ruf who did the opening.

After sewing the seeds of his possible redundancy with the Deluxe Thruster, the dastardly designers at Ann Summers have really pulled the plug on him this time because the Rampant Rabbit Big O! is HUGE!!! From base to tip it’s 12 inches long – with six inches of insertable length – and just under 1.5 inches in diameter. Made in a pretty pink-coloured TPE material that is extremely flexible and incredibly smooth, as toys go, it’s pretty appealling and I couldn’t wait to get started. But Ruf was in the driving seat and wanted to see just what it had under the bonnet so to speak. Inserting the three AA batteries and giving it a once over with an Ann Summers Buzz Fresh toy cleaner wipe, he began to put it through its paces.

It quickly became apparent that the truly innovative thing about the Rampant Rabbit Big O is that it has an oscillating shaft AND a rotating ‘rabbit ears’ clitoral stimulator. You can clearly see through the tranparent pink material to the articulated stem inside. This means that the shaft can revolve and wriggle in an anti-clockwise direction. So you’ve got the ears circling and vibrating your clit and the shaft gently spinning inside you – each with three different speeds.

Oh, but it gets better than that… and this is where the Big O comes in. You see, the designers have incorporated a special button that makes the ears go the other way. This means that you can have anticlockwise inside you and clockwise on your button, stirring up a vortex – now that sounds as if it’s going to take any woman to a climax pretty damn quick. The look of consternation on Ruf’s face was a picture. A toy that really did have the multi-tasking functionality of a man!

Pushing me back onto the bed, he handed it over and let me attempt the practical road test. The shaft is really easy to lube up – it feels great to the touch and there was something peculiarly arousing about just performing those hand movements. It’s also so smooth that it slides in pretty easily on its own, although it doesn’t seem as ‘fat’ as the Deluxe Thruster – but that might be because the slippery material produces less friction on entry.

Once inside, I did discover one major flaw with this big beastie. In contrast to the Big O, I’m not very tall, which means that my arms are not long enough to operate the controls with ease and hold the device in place. Of course, to ensure the optimum experience and negate his feelings of superfluousness, Ruf sprang into action.

The controls are divided into two columns set side by side, one for the ears, one for the shaft. + for up and – for down with three lights which glow to show which of the three speeds you’re at. He had great fun trying the various permutations – slow ears, medium shaft, fast shaft, medium ears – you get the picture. He even tried a spot of simultaneous thrusting, which rather hit the spot as far as I was concerned.

I just lay back and let him get on with it, submitting myself to the undulations and gyrations. I was very conscious that the ear problem seems to have been rectified – whether through this new soft material or because they were circling rather than jabbing at my clit, I’m not sure, but it definitely wasn’t irritating as with previous models.

Having my G Spot clamped between the two sets of movements was very pleasant indeed and it wasn’t long before I started to get quite hot and bothered. But Ruf being Ruf, one orgasm was never going to be enough and that’s when he played his trump card – the R/S button which sits astride the + and – controls. The moment he flipped that switch, I could feel the difference. With the two sets of circles going against each other, it was like centrifugal force and my pinioned G Spot didn’t stand a chance. The rampancy of this rabbit meant that it was being massaged from both sides and stimulated beyond the point of no return over and over again. The sensation was one of being desperate to pee and yet not uncomfortable in the way that usually is. It was most peculiar and I’m quite sure if I could get the hang of this squirty business, Ruf would have needed a towel because the stimulation was just so intense.

After some considerable period of time and a lot of howling on my part, I finally begged for mercy and, for the sake of my battered G Spot, he relented, gradually decreasing the strength of the circles until I lay there, legs akimbo, totally exhausted. Ruf unceremoniously removed our little pink friend with a squelch and its departure precipitated a gush of trapped fluid.

As he reclined on his side leaning on his elbow, he observed me caustically and muttered:

“So, you won’t be needing me any more then…?”

Reaching out, I grasped his hand and pulled him towards me until our lips met. With our arms around each other, all snuggled up, we both enjoyed the aftermath of a very successful toy, secure in the knowledge that pink plastic, no matter how cleverly engineered, can never replace this level of intimacy.

But it can certainly enhance it.

The next generation of Rampant Rabbits – not so fluffy these days.

Originally posted 2010-11-05 10:48:55. Republished by Blog Post Promoter


I thought I’d seen it all when I posted about Oculingus, but it seems there was more to come.

I learned recently about formicophilia, which is a specialised variant of zoophilia where the arousal and orgasm are stimulated in the paraphilic (paraphylic) through the sensations produced by being crawled upon or nibbled by small insects, such as ants, snails, frogs or other insects.

Apparently research has shown that “Children whose species-specific, juvenile sexual rehearsal play is thwarted or traumatized are at risk for developing a compensatory paraphilia“. But what on earth would possess anyone to have a fetish about exposing one’s genitals to the ministrations of small beasties?

However, unlike oculingus, which did not have too much information available on Google, this one seems to be rather more popular with over 49,000 pages devoted to the subject! And that includes formicophilia pictures and videos!

I have to say that the thought is certainly getting me aroused – just not in a good way!

Originally posted 2010-04-09 11:26:52. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Sex Toys as Pelvic Toners – The Touch

"rabbit-touch"A few weeks ago, I reviewed the Ann Summers Touch Shaft Vibrator but the day after I had tested it, Caroline Ann Summers Sharpe contacted me on Facebook to remind me of its possibilities in my quest for great Kegel exercisers and I am happy to add The Touch to my list of sex toys as pelvic toners.

So, on a very sunny spring Sunday morning, I retrieved it from the drawer under the bed and put it through its paces with a different goal in mind. I wasn’t looking for orgasms – although a surprise climax is always welcome – but for pelvic toning.

The thing about the touch is that it has three bands running across the length of its shaft at evenly spaced intervals. These bands are touch-sensitive so if you touch the lowest band with your fingers as you’re inserting the shaft, it starts to buzz. But just depressing the on switch in the base will produce a token buzz to show it’s on but no more. It’s up to you to activate your toy with your internal muscles.

"touch-shaft-vibrator"At 7.5″ long in total, of which a maximum of 6 inches is insertable and with a circumference of 5″, it’s not a big toy and you only have to push it in a short way before the first of the vibrations begins. A sort of long slow vibration. An inch or so more and you get a pulse and, finally, an inch after that, and closest to the base, a faster, more insistent vibration.

As I have mentioned on so many occasions that you might feel the need to slap me, years of testing pelvic floor exercisers means that I have a very tight vagina. Just the action of inserting the device activates each of the bands and the top muscles are so strong that they have already successfully expelled two IUDs, so the Touch doesn’t really stand a chance of staying put – especially when made super slippery with lube for ease of insertion.

Reclining on pillows just added extra gravity to the downwards process, so, to truly test the process, I raised my butt up in the air on pillows to give the Touch a helping hand and at least point it in the right direction.

I have to say that it is an extremely entertaining method of going through your Kegel exercises. Squeezing the elevator up to the top floor and holding it there whilst trying to retain the pressure on that top fast band of vibrations.

Dr Kegel himself said that the exercises worked better for women who had some visible means of measuring the strength of their pelvic muscle contractions and, for me, this would seem to be a very effective example of such a device.

Whether you’re a new mum, dealing with the problems of sex and Menopause or just someone who wants to get the best out of their girly bits in the bedroom, this is a multi-tasking toy that combines the possibilities of orgasm with the effective results of pelvic muscle exercise.

Originally posted 2011-05-03 11:22:45. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Coming For Accounts

A small interlude chez Cake and Ruf

Cake: “Come on, you know you need to sort out your accounts if you’re going to live here. I don’t want your debts to be coming to my door! Get them done today and you shall have a sexually related reward!”

Ruf: “Hmmmm, what sort of reward would that be… because I could leave the accounts and just have a wank”

Cake: “Well, you could! But then I would have to poke you… and it would not be joining in in a good way”

Ruf: “Would you have had this type of conversation with your husband?”

Cake: “Well, no. I did his accounts myself. That way I wouldn’t have to have sex with him…”

Originally posted 2013-11-20 06:49:26. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

OverRated: Laxatives for Anorexics and Bulimics

It was in the news a few weeks ago that moves were afoot to stop laxatives from being available off the shelf in pharmacies and, presumably, supermarkets.

Apparently, as with paracetamol-based products and cough medicines, we need to be protected from ourselves and our addictions.

I fail to see how taking it off the shelf and making it dispensary-only is really going to stop people from using them for nefarious purposes, specifically those suffering with eating disorders.

What we really need is for more information to be available on the subject. For those of us who have trodden this well worn path over many years to educate those who follow in our footsteps. And, hopefully, to prevent them from making the same mistakes and suffering the same long term health consequences.

For anyone who thinks that laxatives are a good idea for dieting, the many years of intestinal difficulty that I suffered as a result of taking that route to facilitate my own eating disorder should provide a stark warning.

In my late teens and early twenties, I was both bulimic and anorexic. Mostly, I would eat nothing and use the laxatives to lose more weight but, if I did binge, I went through purging myself by putting my fingers into my mouth and activating the gag reflex until I vomited.

This is a totally disgusting process, which rots your teeth and just makes you feel permanently nauseous.

After several months of this, I could bear it no longer and moved onto laxatives to do the job more discreetly.

As a result, my poor bowels never really knew where they were.

Sure, it seemed to work for a while but then my system just became totally confused.

I was either completely constipated, with the waste building back up through my system and causing terrible bloating which only added to my distorted perception of my own body.

Alternatively, my stools were so loose that I was terrified to go out for fear of soiling myself.

However, my body dysmorphia meant that I persisted in this ridiculous routine of starving and purging myself.

Then followed the worst symptoms. The acute stomach cramps every time I did try to eat something. These were so painful that I couldn’t walk. My gut would go into spasm, causing my belly to distend. I wanted to be sick and to defecate to ease the painful swelling but was unable to do either.

Although I only used the laxatives regularly for a year or so, these problems continued for decades afterwards, even during the time periods when I thought my anorexia was under control.

IBS and Crohns Disease were all suspected at various times, but now I know that a lot of it was triggered by my reliance on laxatives.

The damage this did to my intestinal walls was exacerbated by my predominantly bread-based diet and stressful lifestyle. The candida (gut bacteria) proliferated and leeched through into other parts of my body, causing thrush and other yeast infections.

After suffering with this for many years, I have chosen to try the anti-candida diet for the last few months and start making my gut more healthy by taking probiotics.

I haven’t used a laxative for over twenty years, but only now that my diet has improved have I actually started to recover from the damage that my prolific use of them caused.

For more information on how to treat thrush, candida and yeast infections, click here


Originally posted 2010-01-17 00:03:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Advent Calendar

I’ve always loved Advent Calendars and buying them for the children in the middle of November was the trigger to the preparations for the festive season just around the corner.

As the years went on, the calendars got increasingly more expensive when they acquired a taste for chocolate better than Kinnerton or Cadburys, but the excitement of that pre-breakfast discovery still remained.

I was setting up the tree this evening – yes, I know it’s early but I just wanted the comfort – and yet it serves only to remind me that they are no longer with me.

Half-forgotten ornaments at the bottom of the box. Little sparkly trinkets which they made at school with their names etched onto the dull side of the fired clay.

Decades old but accompanied by a painful shard of memory and an echoing snatch of laughter from happier times.

For a moment I try to grasp the unravelled strands and weave them back together.

But those days are gone.

The lovely people at Lovehoney are treating us all to a luxury sex toy advent calendar with 24 chances to win.

From now until Xmas, one lucky winner will bag the fabulous sex toy that is behind the window on that day.

Prizes from Lelo, Fun Factory, Je Joue and We-Vibe and many more.

And every time you share the Lovehoney Advent Calendar on Facebook or tweet about it, you will be put into the special Christmas Day draw with the chance to win a £100 shopping spree at Lovehoney. You can enter multiple times each day if you want to.

Do you feel lucky…?

Originally posted 2011-12-02 13:40:29. Republished by Blog Post Promoter