Addicted to love...

Are you a sexual addict? These are the prescreening questions that one should apparently answer to ascertain whether you have a problem. (I found this on JJ )

Answer these twelve questions to access whether you may have a problem with sexual addiction.

1. Do you keep secrets about your sexual or romantic activities from those important to you? Do you lead a double life?
Yes I did. Not proud of it. Never going to reveal it to my wife.

2. Have your needs driven you to have sex in places or situations or with people you would not normally choose?
Yes. I have fucked women found physically and mentally unattractive in slightly seedy surroundings - thinking back, one or two make me feel a little sick. I have also had some wonderful experiences...

3. Do you find yourself looking for sexually arousing articles or scenes in newspapers, magazines, or other media?
Yes. Next? Well I can hardly deny it - a cursory glance at the list of blogs to the right rather gives the game away... Trouble is, dear reader, you are almost certainly "bang to rights" too, by the very fact that you are reading this...

4. Do you find that romantic or sexual fantasies interfere with your relationships or are preventing you from facing problems?
Hmmm. That was the case. Much less so now but not fully resolved. So, yes.

5. Do you frequently want to get away from a sex partner after having sex? Do you frequently feel remorse, shame, or guilt after a sexual encounter?
A bit like the last one. Don't want to get away from my wife after sex. But after seeing an escort there was all that feeling.

6. Do you feel shame about your body or your sexuality, such that you avoid touching your body or engaging in sexual relationships? Do you fear that you have no sexual feelings, that you are asexual?
No. At last something I don't fricking agree with...

7. Does each new relationship continue to have the same destructive patterns which prompted you to leave the last relationship?
Gosh, been married for ever, so not sure how one should answer this... My relationships have never had a destructive pattern (if you don't count paying a string of escorts to go away...)

8. Is it taking more variety and frequency of sexual and romantic activities than previously to bring the same levels of excitement and relief?
Yes - as demonstrated by this post.

9. Have you ever been arrested or are you in danger of being arrested because of your practices of voyeurism, exhibitionism, prostitution, sex with minors, indecent phone calls, etc.?
Never been arrested, hopefully won't be arrested because I've given up on prostitution. But I have been at risk historically. Sex with minors???? Yuck...

10. Does your pursuit of sex or romantic relationships interfere with your spiritual beliefs or development?
Bad karma, man. No, my spiritualist beliefs are humanist - no difficulties for me here.

11. Do your sexual activities include the risk, threat, or reality of disease, pregnancy, coercion, or violence?
Since I got a social disease, I suppose I have to answer yes.

12. Has your sexual or romantic behavior ever left you feeling hopeless, alienated from others, or suicidal?
Way too self-centred and smug for this...

So - 9/12. What's the required score?

If you answered yes to more than one of these questions, they encourage you to seek out additional literature as a resource or to attend an Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting to further assess your needs.

Oh. My. God. I'm fucked up beyond all recognition - 9/12! They'll be putting me in a cage for people to gawp at - "come and see the freak." Either that our they'll strap electrodes to my balls and try to shock me out of my habits - "drastic times call for drastic measures..." I guess that I'll steer clear, just in case.

How do you fare?

Enjoy...

It's in the genes II...

The callous view of my son got me thinking. I read a couple of articles and settled on a book "Evolutionary Psychology - A Critical Introduction" by the wonderfully appropriately named Chris Badcock. The gist of this is that male infidelity is a case of pure genetics. We can try to be simperingly New Man. We can attempt smug Metrosexuality. We can claim to be in touch with our feminine side. But our genes rebel - we just can't help it. A pig is a pig forever, no matter how much he claims to have an interest in silk purses.

Now, it is obvious that there are some inherent reasons for promiscuity - a man could father 365 children in a year (theoretically 730, if his little black book was sufficiently well stocked and his bank balance allowed for the inevitable flowers and requisite meals at the Ivy...). One suspects that the Child Support Agency would probably get on your back pretty sharpish (or maybe not...) but that is mainly one of society's means of mitigating our disgusting behaviour.

Meanwhile, a woman, no matter how many sexual partners she has, can only sprog once in a year.

Clearly, it is in the woman's interest to have a partner to help bring up this mewling child. That is why women are similarly hard-wired to feel betrayal when their partner strays.

So far, so conventional.

Additionally, we know that children in stable family units are more likely to grow up to be well balanced individuals, so there is some self-interest for the man to stick around to make sure his offspring are protected (though sowing wild oats as he stays...).

Well, no big surprise there...

But the strange thing is that our bodies like it when we are unfaithful - suggesting that both men and women are biologically encouraged to infidelity. We know this from various - and I presume perfectly horrible - studies into sperm competition.

"The number of sperm ejaculated is proportional to the risk of the female haviing been inseminated by another male, as measured by the amount of time the couple have been apart."

In other words, your minxy cheating partner gets more of your sperm, if she's been playing away.

And here's another one:

"sperm retention is higher in extra-pair copulations than in pair."

To put it simply, you stand a greater chance of concieving if you slip a length to the little hottie you've just picked up in a bar than you do with your partner (take note, Boris Becker - whoops, too late). So watch out.

And one more thing. If you have a high sperm count, you will be more disposed to shagging around than males who have a low count.

Now clearly this cuts no ice with your nearest and dearest. Medical science won't save you from the wrath of the wife and her ravenous pack of divorce lawyers. Indeed studies have shown that it is not love and commitment that keeps men on the straight and narrow but rather the courts.

In a final bitter-sweet irony, if you do separate, are ripped to shreds by her lawyer and then return for one last bout of nostalgic (and probably regretful) sexual intercourse, your chances of conceiving are exponentially higher than when you are in a monogamous relationship.

So, male behaviour is determined by an inate desire to reproduce with fecundity and diversity but female physiology encourages cheating too (at least up to the point that they get pregnant).

It is interesting that women can seemingly control this inbuilt desire pretty well but men can't (see also the comments on the previous post). I guess it's down to the old Robin Williams quote:

"God gave us men a penis and a brain, but only enough blood to run one at a time."

Enjoy...

It's in the genes...

My middle son, Dopey (aged 10), had a girl in his bed the other night. A cousin, Sophie (also aged 10), was staying with us over Christmas and we were, with 18 people in the house, all out of beds. Hats off to the little lad - he suggested that she share his double bed. Sophie, the little minx, didn't demur...

So, enormous credit to the boy - if he can keep up that hit rate, he'll be a very happy teenager.

Now here's the thing. There I am the next morning, doling out sugary cereal to the masses when he sidles up to me and whispers: "Daddy, when is she going?"

So, that uncouth instinct must be hard-wired into the male brain. Will she see him next year and furiously bleat, "You didn't call, you didn't write!"?

Us grown-up males fight the instinct. You may provide breakfast in bed for that sexy poppet that you have finally bedded after weeks of trying, or cuddle up lovingly after your first sex in 12 years. But even then it's a bit of a struggle - your very male core is probably screaming "I want you out of here!"

One of the advantages of escorts is that you are as much paying them to leave...

Enjoy...

Meet the Neighbours...

Those of you paying attention will have noticed that I finally braved the template to add/update/rearrange my links. I thought that, being a well brought up Englishman, I should make some introductions. Also, I have strived to categorise the blogs into some semblance of topic. I have done this in terms of how I perceive the intent of the author. However, I am prepared to think again, if someone objects to where I have placed them...

So, first the "Erotic Blogs":

Bent on the Edges is my American alter-ego, living on his wits in the world of finance but frequently deflected from his chosen field by a healthy obsession for sex (though unhealthily focussed on a mistress rather than his wife...)

Confessions of a NY Escort is (or at least purports to be) the diary of a NY call girl. Whilst not as funny as Belle de Jour (and subject to the same debate as to veracity), it serves as my window to the female side of escorting now that Belle has “retired”.

Dirty Boy's Thoughts is more for the “Laydees”, I must admit. Also his writing can be a bit too centred on what he imagines his female audience doing with him. However, his occasional longer stories are excellent.

Fun with your Clothes Off gives a snarky view of sex that almost had me putting him in the “Amusing” bit...

Jay loves Kitti is just a very strong relationship with lots of sex. It's great to see such open communication - I aspire to this in my marriage.

Messalina's Daughter is sort of the opposite and yet the same as Jay loves Kitti. It is a loving relationship with a scarily powerful - but potentially negative - sexual energy. The couple play with other people, but the husband is merely an observer and is verbally abused as being weak. The couple are very happy with this arrangement. I don't intend being judgemental because different people live different lives to me and if this is what floats their boat, who am I to suggest they think again. I read it because it is a bit like watching a race car slithering around a track. It's fast, impressive, daring - and yet there is a terrible fascination that it will all go horribly wrong at any moment...

Rentboy Diaries is a BoB finalist and a damn good writer. One suspects that he might be too consciously trying to be a male “Belle” but with lots of well written interesting stuff, who cares?

Sexy Sophie is new to blogging but has written some hot stuff. I wish her well.

Virgin Slut is the oxymoronic title of a far from moronic blog. Whilst she has had an unhealthy interest lately in pubic hair, has some interesting insights into her dilemmas

Wicked Wife just sounds so much fun...

The next category is "Infrequent Erotic Blogs" purely named because you won't need to check every day for new eroticism.

Edinburgh Dinner Party is a fascinating insight into swinging. Well written, it always leaves me wondering about the emotional relationships behind the sex (though not as much as Messalina)

JJ, Sex Educated is funny and sexy. Trawl the archives for some laughs...

The Sin Bin has an irreverent attitude to sin - and all the better for that.

The “Amusing / Thoughtful Blogs” was included in the vain hope that I could pretend that I am not totally sex obsessed...

Bridget Who? is another that is perhaps aimed more at the female audience (the title says it all) but is funny enough to have wide appeal.

Does this Mean I'm a Grown Up is just plain hilarious - parenting from an ironic viewpoint. It chimes so well with my experiences... Priceless and a Bob winner to boot.

Doing Time is Trashman's funny corner of the blogsphere (though describing him as "funny" might elicit a dark, Joe Pesci-like "You think I'm funny?" response). One has the feeling that you wouldn't want to cross him but equally he'd be an excellent and loyal friend. So hopefully, I won't insult him...

Evil Doctor Explains It is a snarky look at life that has me smiling.

Gwydion is an intellectual blog written by an academic. I don't agree with all his politics but he always has an interesting point of view. However, if he ever gets too uppity, I'd remind him of Edgar Wallace's words:
“An intellectual is someone who has found something more interesting than sex” (so that counts me out then...).

My Boyfriend is a Twat is a wonderfully named blog. A woman lays out her boyfriend's frailties (and her own) for our amusement.

Odd News is the Odd Wife's collection of the weird and wonderful news stories happening around the world.

Things We Argue About is now defunct (though there is a mailing list). It is worth a read as Mil is hilarious.

Finally I have “Relationship Blogs” which, I have to admit, has some sex in too...

Laid-off Dad is charming but misnamed (he is now back in gainful employment) blog about a man's relationship with his young son.

The Odd Wife could slip into any number of categories but I felt, despite the humour and sex, it was about the stronger marriage that the Odd Wife has today, after working out some tough issues with her hubby.

Return to Happiness is, sadly, the second incarnation of the Good Husband. Currently, he is proving the adage that “when it rains, it pours” as he copes with divorce, impending redundancy and car crashes.

Unlucky Man is a “moderately successful marketing executive” and sees himself as perpetually unlucky. His bad luck creates a hilarious backdrop to the blog. I have begun to suspect that he may be my Dorian Gray “portrait in the attic”, suffering for every time I am a jammy bastard, so I (slightly guiltily) wish his run of bad luck continues...

What's "Up Chuck"? is a reincarnation of an old friend...

So welcome to these newcomers! You can probably see why I was dreading updating the template.

Enjoy...

Test your knowledge...

Sorry, a bit busy at the moment - try this to amuse yourselves, my sex-obsessed readers....

Sex Quiz

Enjoy...

The trick is in the tail...

Is there such a thing as sex immunity in the same way as one gets porn immunity (thanks to DTG for pointing out that post)? The reason I ask is that I have begun to find it harder to cum unless we are indulging in some slightly aberrant act of sexual congress.

Me, cock deep in Mrs S's arse with her hands pinned over her head?
Fine - I'll be gurning like a loon in a few minutes.

BTW, why do men pull ridiculous faces when they cum?

Missionary with the lights out?
It isn't going to happen.

Don't get me wrong I enjoy it all. I remain priapic to the last. However, the orgasm is tough to come by, so to speak. So, have I become too anally obsessed, too desensitised to vanilla sex?

Well, not completely. I can still orgasm through quite normal sex - I did last night, for instance :-). It just takes some time. I guess that may be the reason that I have been coming more frequently in anal sex - by the time the wife is turned on enough to want it, I am close to the brink anyway. But what concerns me is that it's taking me longer to get to that "point of no return".

As an aside, on porn immunity, I'm not sure that the theory works completely. Yes, my tastes in pornography escalated to more and more hardcore stuff over the years but it has now hit a plateau (though some would say that its tough to find more digusting stuff than "Anal Sluts III"*, I am very sure it is possible...). Furthermore, I still find soft core images or even just perfectly innocent pictures of a beautiful woman very erotic (for example, Bliatz's gallery is more than enough to get me hot under the collar...). I can still easily stimulate my “mind clit” as Bliatz calls it.

What's the male eqivalent of the “mind clit”, by the way?
“Dickhead”, I suspect!

Enjoy...

* I made up that title, so if "Anal Sluts III" exists and happens to be so disgusting that merely perusing the cover art induces violent vomiting, then don't assume I watch it on a regular basis...

Sauce for the goose II

Someone posed me these questions by email. Made me think...

"You are with a long term partner. You may be married. You may have children together. You do not want to jeopardise the relationship. Your sexual high points are now few and far between. You need her and don't want to lose her, but you sleep with escorts. "

Answer this multiple choice question:
How is my partner getting the same highs I get from escorting?

a) None - I am enough
I think that my sex drive outstrips hers but I am not foolish enough to think her horizons begin and end with me.

b) Masturbation on her own
Funny, I guess my wife must masturbate - it's just that I can't see her doing it (as in, it's difficult to imagine, not that she won't let me watch...). Yes, there is evidence (the moving vibrator) but I've never caught her "at it". Why don't we try sharing this? I find I get very embarassed wanking in front of someone - to the extent that I find it almost impossible to come. My wife is the same.

c) Imagining she's with someone else as we go through the motions
I hope we don't "go through the motions". Within the bounds of possibilities, likes, etc. we do mix it up quite a bit. I think for a couple that has been married as long as we have, we now have a pretty varied and fulfilling sex life.
Does she think of Brad Pitt while I'm shagging her? Well, I do look rather similar - though a little better looking, of course ;-). I don't know if she fantasises about someone else (she's never screamed out "Brad!" at an inappropriate moment) and I really don't care. If she wants to imagine that she is fucking some Adonis (and has a sufficiently powerful imagination to ignore the troll grunting on top of her) then good luck to her. No, I mean it. After all, I occassionally fantasise that I am screwing someone else... (Just as an aside, I do it more now than when I was sleeping with escorts - they provided the variety I craved, so I didn't need to imagine - and yes, I know that is a really BAD thing...).

d) Strangers, perhaps male escorts, friends / colleagues of mine
Ah, now we get to the tough stuff. I've said before that it would be fine if she had played away. But it doesn't leave me totally comfortable. She knows that I want sex all the time. She knows that I want to experiment. What is there that someone else would offer that I wouldn't (except variety)? The worrying answer is an emotional connection... That's an avenue that really concerns me. I know that I can separate an emotional connection from a sexual encounter but can she? In that way, I guess I'd be happiest if she saw a male escort. Friends would be really difficult - I'd prefer not to know; never to know.

g) Girlfriends who know how to hit the spot
Ohh. Can I join in? Nice thought but not my wife (but she has surprised me before...).

h) Porn
Ditto. One of my fantasies is to watch porn with my wife and suck/fuck each other into oblivion. But my wife hates porn. She started exploring my fantasies to stop me looking at porn. And as Bliatz points out, finding female friendly porn is quite difficult.

i) Joining me in my adventures
Yes... but no... but yes... She comes along on my journey of sexual exploration but not totally willingly. Some of my fantasies are probably a bit too extreme for her at the moment. For instance, I doubt threesome with a friend or an escort is something that she'd go for (though it is one of my fantasies...). This may need another post to explore...

j) Checking my bank statements and letting it go because she loves me so much
Not sure that the bank balance has any influence but the three angelic faces of our children have probably saved our marriage more than once.


Now, for all the men out there, what do you think your wives/girlfriends are up to?

Just a reality check for all those cheating husbands out there who believe they are so superior...

On a lighter note:

A loving couple was celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary, privately, at home with a couple of bottles of champagne. A bit tipsy and feeling very intimate the husband turns to his wife and asks, 'Tell me truthfully, have you ever been unfaithful to me?'
'Well,' she replied, 'since you ask, to tell you the truth I have been unfaithful on three occasions.'
'What? How could you?'
'Let me tell you about it,' she said. 'The first time was back when we were first married. You needed open heart surgery and we didn't have the money, so I went to bed with the surgeon and got him to operate for free.'
'Gee! That was noble of you. And, besides, I guess I should be grateful. But, tell me, what about the second time?'
'Do you remember that VP of Sales promotion you desperately wanted, and they were going to pass you over for someone else? Well, I went to bed with the President and he gave you the job.'
'Hell, I think I could have done it on my own. But, then again, I guess I should be grateful. And so, what about the third time?'
'Do you remember two years ago when you wanted to become president of the Golf Club, and you were missing 53 votes...'

Enjoy!

Boys and their toys...

Continuing my series of posts on New Year Resolutions, I get to cars...

Did any of you spot that literary device - a post on each resolution? Cool, eh! It's deep, this blog. Really deep. I could be the next Joyce. This could all be a metaphor for man's Sisyphean struggle with self doubt and the ineluctable modality of desire. Or I could just be a self-obsessed sex addict wittering on in an onanistic celebration of my frailties. What's that? I'm a fuckwit? Oh, OK then...

Used Car Sales raised a question some time ago about the pointless nature of owning high end automobiles. Since I've confessed to an unhealthy fascination with these beasts I thought that I better tackle it. I put some of this in comments on Robert's blog but I thought it worth a follow up here.

Am I a tosser for buying these cars? Fair question. Well, we all know the answer...

Why do I waste money on cars? Well, I love cars. Ever since I was a little boy of about 7, I could recognise any car on the road, even from a tiny detail. I was obsessed. But my parents could only afford a second hand shit bucket (and I mean shitty). I wanted to be in one of the gleaming monsters I dreamed about. Now I can afford to have a dream machine or two, I have seized it with both hands.

I don't do it for anyone else - the effect it has on others - I do it for me. I don't need that sort of affirmation (I get that in other ways - my properties, for instance, were selected to impress). Indeed, my favorite car of the moment in the Salvatori stable is anonymous in that most people don't know what it is (I mean that they have to ask what type of car it is - I won't elaborate, as it may serve to identify me). Rest assured, it is flash, fast and fantastically expensive, however. As for people who say it's a penis extension or designed to impress women, well the only people who are impressed by that car are 12 year old boys and that's certainly NOT my sexual demographic...

Also, as I got in my car this frosty morning and fired up the heated front screen, heated rear screen, heated seats and heated steering wheel, secure in the knowledge that I had 4 wheel drive and a complex stability program to keep me on the road, I didn't really want to be in some piece of shit car, sliding around, freezing my arse off - why do I work 12 hour days?

Finally, I have found ways of defraying the cost. I drove one high end, £100k car for two years and sold it for what I paid. My current car is still worth more than I paid six months after I bought it. How? personal imports and buying high demand models with long waiting lists.

That said there is the Tony Dron quote,

"The definition of an optimist is someone who thinks they can just afford to run an Aston Martin."

These things are money pits and best avoided unless you are a rich hopeless addict like me.

Enjoy!

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Not me that's for sure. Why would I want to be poorer? ;-)

So, I'm bitching about not being able to retire but I have already admitted that I earn a seven figure amount each year and run cars worth six figures (NB: all in Sterling not worthless greenbacks - so devalued that, rumour has it, even Cuban hookers refuse to accept them...). Where the fuck do I get off with this. What a wanker I am.

Well, sorry to disappoint you if you thought £1 million is a ticket to the high life - helicopters to Bali, yacht to Venice. It's just enough to ensure you lose all your friends but not quite enough to buy anything worthwhile.

You get all those poor saps playing the National Lottery, fake Burberry caps on, shirts not tucked in handing over their social security checks believing that if they win a million they will buy a Ferrari, a mansion and end up shagging some chav princess like Jordan. Oh no, they won't!

For those who don't know Jordan is a “model” who has two major assets (how ridiculous do those breasts look?) and a penchant for revealing her sexual exploits with celebrities to the newspapers (a bit like a Paris Hilton with bigger tits and less class - and bear in mind that I'm talking about a woman with two sex tape scandals...).

BTW is it just me, or would Paris Hilton without her inherited wealth just be trailer trash? Reminds me of Dolly Parton's comment,
"Believe me it takes a lot of money to look this cheap!"

If a mill were enough, the skies over London would be clogged with Learjets and MacDonalds would be offering a McPanda burger. Why? There are probably half a million houses in the South East worth more than £1 million (and no, I do not own all of them). Millionaires are all around you, sitting on the bus (what's a bus?). These days, to live what we still perceive to be a “millionaire” lifestyle, you need to have a damn sight more than £1 million. £1 mill won't even begin to keep you in Prada and Gucci heaven.

In 1961, Viv Nicholson won £152,000 on the pools and became the darling of the nascent tabloid press by declaring that she was going to “spend, spend, spend”. She promptly embarked on a remarkably tasteless shopping spree. Within fifteen years, she'd blown the lot. That would be £3 million in today's money. Or, put another way, £5 million of pre-tax income (His Toniness will of course raid your hard earned cash) can be blown in 15 years with no appreciable assets to show for it at the end - in less than a quarter of our allotted “three score years and ten”. Depressing.

Let's look at the basic maths.

• £1.5 million for a small London house
• £1.5 million for a large (but not outrageous) house in the country

Er well that's £3 million gone and you haven't even started buying Ferraris...

• You'll be wanting to educate your children privately - well that's £200,000 a pop. Call it half a mill for the average 2.2 kids.
• You'll want a nanny, housekeeper and perhaps a cook. Well they are £25k a head until your kids leave home or you die - call it £1 million over 30 years.
• On top of that, you're now one of the “super rich”. You can't go for a caravan holiday in Margate. You'll want the 5 star holiday to Barbados, turning left as you get on the plane (you don't travel cattle class anymore - you're a millionaire). Now that's £50k a year (remember you'll be taking the kids and nanny, staying at Sandy Lane with all the other nouveau riche). That's a mill right there till you're to old to get your arse on a plane.

So you are out £8.5 mill and all you have to show for it is a suntan, a terraced house in London and a crumbling pile in the Cotswolds. You are too fat and have surly kids who'd rather have gone to the local comprehensive.

And you haven't even thought about buying a ski chalet in Verbier or that villa in Cap d'Antibes. They are £3 mill the pair. And the upkeep on this property - you'll need £100k a year (£2 mill earns that much in interest, if you are lucky).

Hmm £10.5 mill gone and you haven't even got the money to go grocery shopping at Tesco, let alone have larks tongues slavered in Beluga caviar fed to you by Nubian slaves...

Ok, perhaps we can economise a bit. Let's leave some of this stuff out. We'll skip the holiday homes. You'll still need £2-3 million stashed away, giving you income, to be able to hop on a flight to Prague, Paris or Papua New Guinea whenever you want and dine at the Ivy without worrying about the bill.

So call it £10 million (£16 mill pre-tax, remember...). However, that's not the end of it because now everyone expects you to pay for everything. Your old mates look the other way when the bill arrives. They don't get their rounds in. Fair enough you can afford it but it becomes wearing after a bit... So you start socialising with richer people. The rich are different - they have money. But they are all drug dealers, gun runners or worse, investment bankers. And what's mortifying is they are richer than you and you start to feel poor again (I have been at a dinner party where people have argued over which private jet is better...). These are people who would agree with Nelson "Bunker" Hunt, "If you know how much you are actually worth, it proves that you are not really rich"....

And you'll always be expected to bid for the star lot at any charity auction - I don't mind giving £10k but I really don't want David Beckham's underpants, thank you... You become a one man social security organisation for the local community.

And then your wife runs off with the gardener with half your money and you're left wondering what your old mates are doing... Probably having a great time at the local bistro drinking Aussie Shiraz and carefully splitting the bill.

So, now you see the scale of the problem facing Salvatori. Those chavs playing the lottery just don't understand... But anyone who says that money can't buy you happiness doesn't know where to shop...

Lastly, I just want to remind you of the value of hard work as summed up by Homer Simpson:

"If you really want something in this life, you have to work for it.
Now, quiet! They're about to announce the lottery numbers... "

Enjoy....

Madness: an inherited disease - you get it from your kids...

"You need a licence to buy a dog or drive a car. Hell, they even make you have a licence to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a parent..."
Keanu Reeves as Tod Hawkes (Parenthood, 1989)

Well, we know that I enjoy reaming butts and that I'm an arsehole. Am I a shitty father to Frogmella, Dopey and Tantrum (my three)?

Parenthood isn't easy and there are numerous blogs that attest to this. My wife is great at doing this stuff - she knows how to engage them, how to distract them, how to develop them. Me, I just bumble along, doing whatever seems right. I am getting better. As they get older, I think I relate to them more.

I love them with all my heart - they complete me. As worried about divorce, it was the impact on these three souls that really concerned me - everything else would have been irrelevant.

They certainly seem to love me too - I love the way that when I get home, they rush to be the first to embrace me (only the dogs are keener...). Unconditional love - it's better than sex (and for me to say that is quite something)!

But...

Frogmella is now a teenager, all spots, raging hormones and "Kevinesque" harrumpfs. When the first boyfriend comes along I really don't know what I'll do - it'll either be break into the vintage port (for me) or break out the shotgun (for the worthless piece of shit that turns up on my doorstep, hoping to get lucky with my daughter). Spending a few years in a drunken stupor or a high security jail seems eminently preferable to suffering teenage insecuity, especially second hand... Luckily, Frogmella is as yet uninterested in boys or her appearance (the grungier the better, as far as she is concerned at the moment).

Dopey is interested in PS2 and video games. He is so laid back that he is beyond horizontal. The concept that trying at school might be useful (or even listening - hey, just listening would be good: perhaps some form of osmosis might happen...) seems totally alien to him. No amount of encouragement seems to work. Bribery has some effect but I don't think this is what parenting is about. I'm thinking about corporal punishment next and capital punishment as a last resort...

Tantrum is just scary. She has her mother's determination coupled to my pig-headedness. She is the living incarnation of that old adage that the only difference between a terrorist and a toddler is that you can negotiate with a terrorist... If she has brains (and there are signs that she is very bright) the world better watch out 'cos it'll be her holding it to ransom with the giant "laser"...

Until then, enjoy...

Lead me not into temptation...

Avoiding escorts isn't a problem at the moment (despite the temptation), as my wife is doing her level best to leave me weak-kneed with sexual exhaustion. In the last five days, I have had seven orgasms (all whilst making love to Mrs S, for those that think I'm a wanker...). If I booked an escort, it would have to be for a rest!

Mrs S claims to be knocking on 35 big O's over the same period and, whilst I haven't been keeping count, it can't be far off. She just is a sexual dynamo at the moment.

Take last night for instance. We were out for dinner. There she was sashaying into the restaurant before me wearing a tight fitting top, a short brown velvet skirt, fishnet stockings and those bloody boots again. She looked sensational and male eyes were watching her across the room. I also knew that underneath there was some sexy Agent Provocateur underwear. She dresses this way when she wants my attention (and was succeeding, I might add).

We slipped into a corner table and sipped on some champagne.

Conversation started slowly, discussing how the kids were settling back into school but my mind wasn't on it. My hand slipped below the table cloth and stroked her thigh. My fingers slipped under the hem of her skirt but I could not easily reach her stocking tops. I left it there till we had ordered before I adjusted my position to enable me to touch her bare flesh. She jumped but gaveme a knowing smile so I caressed her bare thigh, looping my finger around the straps of her suspender belt. I was tumescing under the table and I knew my wife wasn't totally focused on the conversation.

The starters came and I told the wife to slip closer to me. She was nervous and shot a look around the restaurant. "Where is this going? Who can see us? Who here knows us?" she was thinking. I didn't really care. My hand reached further up her thigh and her legs clenched shut. "No!" she whispered, "Not here!" But it was too late. My hand was fluttering across her bare skin and I felt her legs relax and part. Lucky I had ordered soup - one-handed food...
My fingers began to stray under the silk of her lingerie, as I casually supped my soup. I found her labia - soaking wet already - and gently teased them, feeling the slickness on my fingers. The index finger slipped inside and there was a little gasp from my wife. But she was pushing her hips forward to get some pressure on her clitoris. My thumb, moistened, went to work on her rosebud. I watched her lids droop and jaw slacken. A little more application and dexterity and she was biting her lips and pushing hard against my hand. Then there it was - legs clenching, her hand grabbed my wrist to push my fingers hard inside herself. Well that was a good start.

And just in time... The waiter was solicitously asking whether every thing was okay - eyeing my wife's almost untouched starter. "Oh, just perfect!" My wife smiled back at him.
The main course involved her giving me a gentle hand job under the table - getting her revenge. I didn't come but my sea bass didn't really get much attention...

We decided to skip the pudding and coffee and as soon as I could stand, we headed to the car park. I opened her door, as I normally do but I surprised her by clambering in after.
"Not here!" she said for the second time that evening but the giggle gave her away. I pushed her skirt up and grunted, "Now it's my turn to come."

She reached inside my trousers to release my hard-on as I rubbed her pussy. It was obvious that both of us were ready for what was about to happen. Time was of the essence - cars were pulling up and leaving and whilst it was dark, we weren't in the most secluded part of the car park. Also, we were in a car that acquaintances would know (and is sufficiently distinctive for the curious to come and have a closer look...). Since "dogging" is not our scene, we were both eager to find release.

Knealing in the footwell, I slipped her thong to one side and pulled her hips towards me. My cock slid easily into her pussy and I began pounding into her, urged on by her calves on my bum. She was gasping in her second orgasm and biting my neck, as I came hard. Now I never normally come quickly (or in the missionary position) but the build up and fear of discovery did it for us.

It was a quick drive home and I thought the fun and games were over. However, as I slipped into bed Mrs S was wearing a baby-doll nighty - something that signals she wants action. I wasn't sure I was up to it - but my wife is Viagra on legs to me (I needed a lot of stimulation from escorts to get a hard-on, my wife can get me hard just with a look). So, I knew I'd get a hard on but I didn't think I'd come again (it usually takes a snail less time to run an uphill marathon than for me to ejaculate again). I don't mind fucking with no orgasm, if it gives my partner pleasure - it's all good to me. However, after an hour of trying every position and orifice that we could think of in a Kama Sutra style marathon, I finally came again. My wife had a great time...

Perhaps, I am getting too old:

An 85 year-old man marries a lovely 25 year old woman. Because her new husband is so old the woman decides that on their wedding night they should have separate suites. She is concerned that the old fellow could over exert himself.

After the festivities she prepares herself for bed, and for the knock on the door she is expecting. Sure enough the knock comes and there is her groom ready for action. They unite in conjugal union and all goes well whereupon he takes his leave of her and she prepares to go to sleep for the night. After a few minutes there's a knock on the door and there the old guy is again ready for more action.

Somewhat surprised she consents to further coupling, which is again successful after which the octogenarian bids her a fond good night and leaves. She is certainly ready for slumber at this point and is close to sleep for the second time when there is another knock at the door and there he is again fresh as a 25 year old and ready for more. Once again they do the horizontal boogie.

As they're lying in afterglow the young bride says to him, 'I am really impressed that a guy your age has enough juice to go for it three times. I've been with guys less than half your age who were only good for one.'

The old guy looks puzzled and turns to her and says, 'Was I already here?'

So escorts are not a problem - unless I forget!
Enjoy...

Staying faithful to my wife, unfaithful to my desire...

To bastardise a wonderful quote,

"The honest man must be a perpetual renegade, the life of an honest man a perpetual infidelity. For the man who wishes to remain faithful must take himself perpetually unfaithful to all the continual, successive, indefatigable, renascent errors."
Charles Peguy, the French poet.

There is a dreadful insincerity in my fidelity - I desperately crave the variety that other women would give me.

Temptation is all around. It is not just escorts (this one particularly haunts me at the moment for some reason...) but women I meet everywhere. Two secretaries at work tried to snog me over the Christmas period (one was very drunk - in vino veritas? - the other was deadly serious in intent - talk of wanting a sugar daddy...). Three wives of friends (very attractive ladies, I might add, but nothing compared to my wife) have propositioned me (again two subtly yet clearly, the other not so delicately) whilst at Christmas drinks parties. It would have been so easy to take any of these further. A quick hotel booking, a discrete phone call. I wanted to do it too. But I resisted.

I am a sex addict and my drug of choice swirls around me... The pain of foregoing this pleasure, so tantalisingly close, is painful to the core. As Oscar Wilde says:

"Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love's tragedies. "

Why would I stray? I have a beautiful wife. I love her. We now have a great sex life. And, as I've said before, there is nothing better than sex with the one you love.

And yet... there is that familiarity, that comfort level, that repetition. Where is the frisson, the thrill of the chase, that glorious exploration of the new? Even doing new things with my wife lacks some of that sense of experimentation, of variety just because I know my wife so intimately (in all senses of the word)...

I will remain strong, I will remain faithful but it is so difficult. Am I alone in this struggle? I think not: I once read that 80% of men would be unfaithful to their wives if they knew for certain that they would not be found out (and the other 20% were lying...). But what about women? I think that statistic would be lower - but not much.

I hope that William Blake is wrong;

"Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained."

My desire is not weak and who am I to disagree with a great author but Wilde worries me too when he said;

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself."

I just hope that I am the inverse of another wonderful bon mot from a Frenchman, Sacha Guitry;

"An ideal wife is one who remains faithful to you but tries to be just as charming as if she weren't"

Perhaps I can be the ideal husband, with the mystery of one who might stray... But I will be struggling every day with inner demons, because I know that I will not be protected from temptation by the surest of means - cowardice.

New Year Resolutions...

A belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my readers. If you don't believe in Christmas then I hope that you had a good holiday. If you object to the mention of Christmas, then feel free to bog off and never return... (Sorry, I'm with badbaby on this - what is all this "Happy Holidays" shit? Far too PC for me...)

It seems to be traditional for Bloggers to set themselves up for a big fall by setting out their resolutions for the world to see (and ridicule). Being a reactionary (and notwithstanding my tsunami post), who am I to stand in the way of tradition.

So, with due pomp and ceremony, here are mine:

1. Stay faithful to my wife
   Proving to be surprisingly difficult as Mrs S was run ragged over the Christmas period and shagging me seemed to be low on her list of priorities. I was suffering from a near terminal case of TSB (toxic sperm buildup) and even came close to having a wet dream - something that didn't even affect me as a teenager (but only because I masturbated like a rabid monkey back then...). Things have improved in the last couple of days but I will need constant attention over 2005 to stay on the straight and narrow. What a shitty thing to say (but at least it's true - I don't write to be liked: I write to get this stuff out of my head, where it's fucking me up...) !
   
2. Avoid escorts
   This is obviously a follow-on from point 1 but is not quite the same given my slightly strange views on fidelity... Should be easy but I feel a bit like Jack Nicholson, who reputedly said,
   "There is so much porn on the internet that I'm finding it hard to leave the house".
   Well, I know where they are (NWS) and it preys on my mind...
   
3. Spend more time with my kids
   Ahh, bless... Except - what the fuck is this doing down at number 3? I am a totally self-centred prick sometimes... Well, the kids do deserve some of my time, I guess. The problem is how to do it - my job requires total commitment (hence my snatched and erratic blogging). Any sign of weakness and you consign yourself to the scrapheap (hence the next resolution).
   
4. Earn enough to retire
   That's more like it - back to being self-centred again... Well, it provides a solution to number 3 but raises other issues. I think my wife would kill me / divorce me / kill herself if I were around all the time. She married me for "better or worse"; not from "9 till 5" (perhaps that's why I got no sex over Christmas?).
   
5. Keep a clean driving licence
   Stupid resolution but when you drive like I do in Aston Martins, Ferraris and Lamborghinis (well, it was a good year...), just one of my daily forays into 100mph+ motoring would see me banned. It would seriously cramp my enjoyment to have £300,000 of motorcars and not be able to drive them.
   
6. Get fit again
   I think better, work better when I am fit. However, I have no time to get fit. My wife even objects if I take the dogs for a run (on the basis that I could take the kids with me if I walk - but they are very happy watching TV, playing computer games, dismembering Barbie). I used to be as fit as a professional athlete and I miss some of that - mostly the six-pack (but not the mind-searing pain)... Does Mrs S want me to become fat and unhealthy? Perhaps she is trying to kill me...
   
7. Have fun
   Since one avenue is outlawed (point 2) then I will need a couple of outlets. Shooting may have to be one and motor-racing another (but these conflict massively with spending time with the kids, retiring, getting fit again, etc.). Who ever said that life was simple?..
   
8. Blog more
   Another conflicting aim for 2005. But this catharsis is good for me (I have no idea what it does for you, Dear Reader...). I also need to sort out my links as they are becoming a little dated (e.g. the Good Husband being, very sadly, reincarnated as Return to Happiness) but that involves editing the dreaded template...
   
9. Actually do something sensible with my money
   Financial irresponsibility (see above passim for ways to blow excessively large amounts of money in a short period of time...) has meant that despite my prodigious earnings, I can't afford to stop working (and it pisses me off). The worst thing is I never do anything sensible with the dough I have lying around - I can think of lots of things to do to earn more but when I have it, I leave it lying around...
   
10. Hold the world to ransom with my giant "laser" ## mwhah, hah, hah ##
    Well, perhaps not. But, boy are there some things I'd do differently... For instance, free trade is worth a lot more than aid - a 1% increase in Africa's share of world exports would be worth five times as much as the continent's share of aid and debt relief. Meanwhile, Europe's Common Agricultural Policy kills one person every 13 seconds in developing countries. Happy New Year from the bureaucrats...

So, in short, the goal is to emerge from 2005 happily married, with a load of money, having had fun, unlike the chap who is similarly sex obsessed.

Bill worked in a pickle factory. He had been employed there for a number of years when he came home one day to confess to his wife that he had a terrible compulsion. He had an urge to stick his penis into the pickle slicer.

His wife suggested that he should see a sex therapist to talk about it, but Bill indicated that he'd be too embarrassed. He vowed to overcome the compulsion on his own.

One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen. His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong.
"What's wrong, Bill?" she asked.
"Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my penis into the pickle slicer?"
"Oh, Bill, you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"My God, Bill, what happened?"
"I got fired."
"No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?"
"Oh...she got fired too."

Enjoy...

Congratulations!

Congrats to four of my links, who have been nominated for Sex Blog of the Year. They are (in alphabetical order...)

Bliatz

The Good Wife

Mistresse Matisse

Pussy Talk

You go, Girls!

There are also a couple that i've been meaning to add... I don't know if this means I have great taste in blogs or I am merely another fool reflecting the concensus. However, IMHO, these ladies have written some great stuff over the last year

If you don't read them yet, do.

If you do read them, vote (polling finishes on Jan 17th).

If the girls want my vote, I find bribery works well... Erotic missives to my usual email address please...

Making waves...

Blogging seems pretty pointless with the devastation of lives that has happened over the holidays.

Salvatori has bunged £10k to the Tsunami Earthquake Appeal. I hope that you can give something too.