Category Archives: Ranty ones

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On what is not wrong with you, part 2: having body hair

There seems to be a fashion these days for guys to shave their bollocks. The first time I ever touched shaved bollocks I was utterly fascinated – mainly by the weird plasticine-y feel of them, but also partly by the motivation.

Why the living fuck would a guy want to shave his bollocks? What earthly good could it possibly do him? Does it make him swim faster, bang harder or achieve greater recognition for his successes in the workplace? Does it make him good at science or gain him entry into exclusive private members’ clubs? Is the warmth generated from having all the extra pubic hair rendering his sperm so relaxed and sluggish that he is incapable of impregnating a lady friend?

Baffling.

I’ve since met more guys who do it, and have discussed with them the reasons why they might be tempted, on a weekly or bi-weekly basis, to take a razor to their genitals.

Girls like it

I’m informed that some girls like naked balls. It apparently makes it more pleasant when you’re running your tongue from the base of his cock down to his perineum if you don’t end up with the odd hair in your mouth while doing it.

Fair enough – if a girl’s giving you head she doesn’t want all that icky hair getting in the way. It’s just not natural – having body hair that naturally grows from your natural body.

It feels nice

This one is a divider – some guys think it feels lovely, and they like the feeling of clean pants rubbing against a freshly balded sack. But I’ve met others who hate the extra stickiness generated, and think the feeling is somewhat akin to having bollocks made of silly putty.

It makes your cock look bigger

Why on earth would you want to make it look bigger? The best thing about having a big cock is that when you put it in me I can feel it stretching me and filling me up and banging hard against my cervix. No amount of shaving will make any difference to this and, in fact, if your cock looks big and feels smaller, the only reaction you’ll get is one of initial delight followed by mild disappointment.

Body hair: the right answer

By ‘the right answer’ I, as ever, mean ‘what I think.’ Body hair is completely natural and normal, and as such it is yet another of those genuinely delightful things about naked boys. I would prefer it if you didn’t shave it all off.

Obviously some body hair is nicer than others – that line running from your crotch to your belly button is so sexy that I’m not sure I can write on it in detail without going for a lie-down. Likewise, the fuzz of hair that collects in the crook of your back is delightful and beautiful and almost worthy of a blog of its very own. So hair is good.

That’s not to say smoothness feels bad – on the contrary it can feel really nice sometimes. But shaved bollocks in particular feel odd and clinical. What’s more they grow back stubbly, and then they scratch.

But the look and feel of them isn’t the main thing that gets me. By all means shave the fuck out of your body if you genuinely want to, or if you enjoy cupping your nuts when you’ve had at them with a razor, but I’ll still think you’re a bit odd for wanting to because it just seems like a lot of unnecessary effort.

Shaved things have to be reshaved regularly, which takes time as well as effort. Time and effort that could much better be spent doing something fun – forcing me to bury my face in your hirsute crotch and suck your dick nice and hard, letting me grip it until you moan a little and ask me to stop squeezing, then making me sit on the coffee table touching myself while you stand over me and shoot jizz all over my face. For example.

WARNING: I am about to mention the patriarchy

Ever since man first dragged woman out of the cave by her hair, women have been giving a massive shit about their hair. It’s not my job to question why, only to lament the fact that, as a woman, I spend far more time than is sensible either removing unwanted hair or explaining to people in stampy feminist tones why actually no, I don’t have the fucking time to wax myself bald from the waist down. I am usually too busy having a career, or seeing friends, or fucking guys, or enjoying a life that does not revolve around beautifying myself to achieve the validation of shallow people.

This shit is a pain in the arse for women. Men – you’re lucky enough to be in the 50% of the human race that isn’t currently burdened with expectations about the removal of your body hair. Don’t fuck it up for yourselves.

Society doesn’t – at the moment – expect you to shave your balls. Be wary of turning it into a majority activity. I’m not telling you not to shave them – do what the actual fuck you want to do with your own body – but please keep reminding yourself that you never ever have to.

I dread living in a world where men have their back, sack and crack waxed because they think it’s normal. It is not ‘normal’ to remove your body hair. It’s onerous, boring and unnecessary, and you probably have better things to do. Like me.

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On sexy slang

Language is a beautiful and ever evolving concept. There are some sexy things that are beautiful to say, some sexy language that can be hilarious, and some that can just be satisfying and brilliant in conversation down the pub. But why does so much sexy language have to be completely unrepresentative of the act that it purports to describe?

Lick her out

Hi, teenaged boys. When you generously give head to a lady it is extremely unlikely that you are actually going to be licking her out. Hopefully you’ll be moving your tongue around with varying degrees of pressure in the vague arena of her clitoris.

But if you are actually ‘licking her out’ that sort of implies that you are scooping unwanted gunge from the depths of her ladyspout, which is not only odd but will probably make the sexual experience drier and therefore less enjoyable.

Blow job

Spread word throughout the land to all inexperienced teenage girls: you do not blow on it. In fact, I think we should make it a national priority to rename the damn thing a ‘suck job’.

Because (and do correct me if I’m wrong) I believe you actually suck on it.

Fingering

Wow. Your finger looks nice and thick and satisfying. Almost as satisfying as a cock. Except of course it doesn’t unless you happen to be a genetic freak with gigantic cock-sized fingers who should definitely drop me an email.

‘Fingering’ implies that you only use one of them. It also sort of implies that the fingers are the most important part, which of course they’re not.

Any self-respecting pervert knows that what this should really be called is ‘using your hands to fuck me and generally mess around with my genitals in a variety of interesting ways until I squeal and bite through your shoulder.’ Although I guess that has the downside of being impossible to contain within a tweet or sexy text message.

Smash her back doors in

If there are breaky noises then you are definitely doing it wrong.

While we’re on the subject you might ‘get laid’, but you never ever ‘smash it.’ No matter how you generally rate a good fuck (based on romance, enthusiasm, inventiveness, or simply the ability to remain erect despite having a decent view of my face with the top light on), I don’t think anyone alive enjoys it more if it’s accompanied by the sound of a shattering pelvis.

On whether I like spanking

Some questions are designed to elicit sexy answers, and others invoke a sense of wariness and dread. “Do you like spanking?” falls into the latter category, and here’s why:

‘Spanking’ encompasses a range of things – you can be spanked by someone who is giggling and brandishing a pink heart-shaped toy from Anne Summers. You can be spanked by a teacher, parent, boyfriend, girlfriend, or midget in a gimp suit. You can be spanked until it just about hurts or you can be spanked until the agony is so much that you want to bite straight through the pillow and into your bottom lip.

You can be spanked by someone who can’t get hard unless he knows you’re uncomfortable – who digs his fingers into the back of your neck and forces you over his knee, yanks your knickers down and rubs his cock into you while he whacks you. You can be spanked by someone who’s afraid that if he gives you more than a light-hearted slap you’ll report him to the authorities.

So the question ‘do you like being spanked?’ is about as relevant as ‘do you like food?’
Like ‘food’, I think everyone likes spanking. Be it a gentle tap on the bum to demonstrate ownership or so they can see your butt jiggle as they’re fucking you from behind, right up to a full-on gutwrenching spitefuck accompanied by slaps so hard they give you stars behind the eyes.

The question might open things up for more discussion and more extravagant play, but I’m always wary of giving a fully honest answer. Yes, of course I like spanking. But I’m loathed to tell you how I like it in case you spend the next five fucks trying to get the tone, the rhythm and the strength to my exact specifications.

So I think what I’m proposing is that we come up with a Universal Spanking Declaration, along the lines of:

“I like being spanked in some way, shape or form.”

That way we can assume everyone likes a bit, and push things gradually until we reach the point at which they say “oh fuck yes, that’s it.” After all, that’s basically what we do with sex itself, right? No one says “once my penis is inside you, do you want me to maintain a fairly steady, slow rhythm, or would you prefer me to tease you a bit then go at it hammer and tongs until you come all over my cock?”

No. With sex we play jazz. Because we assume everyone likes it we expend our energies working out how they like it best.

From now on, if you sign up to my Universal Spanking Declaration, I shall do the same. I know you like it, I just need to find out how; I’m going to play jazz.

Now bend the fuck over.

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On being out of your league

This. Does. Not. Mean. Anything.

Let’s stop using this phrase, yeah? Because what it implies is that one person is better than another purely on the grounds of sexual attractiveness.

I don’t know about you, but I’d find it difficult to rank the entire human race on an objective measure of sexuality. Sure, there’s a fuzzy and generic scale on which we might say that more people want to fuck Anne Hathaway than Anne Widdicombe, but that doesn’t mean that there’s no one who finds Widdicombe’s rotund Tory cuntitude more shag-worthy than Hathaway’s fey charm.

Have you ever passionately lusted after someone and had your friends tell you you’re mad? Because I have. I love guys who are not conventionally attractive – guys who might be a bit shy about their pot-belly but have hands that I can’t look at without imagining filthy things. Guys who are old enough to be my parents but have disgustingly compelling ‘come to bed’ eyes, and an aura of dominance that Brad Pitt will never achieve. There are guys that I want to fuck because they’re funny, because they’re angry, or because they seem like they’d get hard just waiting for me at the bus stop. Boys who’d prompt my friends to stare and my parents to raise surprised eyebrows.

Guys who might generally think I was ‘out of their league’ are frequently the exact ones that I want to bury my fucking face in. Why? Because if they hold me in such high esteem I imagine that there’d be a spectacular erection and enthusiastic sex if I were to take them somewhere private.

I am in no way out of anyone’s league, and damned if I think anyone’s out of mine. The issue in any situation where you’re propositioning someone is simply whether there is mutual attraction. By all means turn someone down because you don’t fancy them, but don’t assuage your guilt by implying that no one else like you would fuck them either.

Some women are genuinely offended to be propositioned by someone who they don’t find attractive. In these cases ‘out of your league’ serves the dual purpose of being a painfully effective brush-off and also a consoling tool for those who place a pathetic mountain of importance on their own appearance.

If I don’t fancy you I won’t shag you – I’ll turn you down as nicely as possible, and perhaps even point you towards a friend who I think might be turned on by your specific charms. But be assured: if you want to fuck me you’re in my league, it’s just that sometimes I don’t want to play.

And to those who actually use the phrase ‘out of your league’ to refer to potential partners, I’d strongly advise that you piss off far out of my earshot. I am liable to step in in situations where someone’s been brave enough to make an approach and has been shot down with the kind of cold-hearted bitchery that’ll take them years to get over. What’s wrong with saying ‘no’? Why do you have to turn it into a weird competition for attractiveness that will destroy the confidence of someone who may already be lacking it in the first place?

If some misguided league system is your reason for not fucking someone then I’m afraid we’re not just in different leagues, but playing different games altogether.

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On condoms – how to make condoms sexy

Everyone hates condoms – they’re rubbish. They’re all rubbery and they smell weird and there’s a break in sex where you have to tear the packaging and struggle your desperate, throbbing cock into something that will end up diminishing your enjoyment of the whole thing. See? Rubbish.

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