The Naked Poet

Chastity - Chapter Three

2012-02-11T21:01:00.000Z

Getting even more creative than ever before. Today, I used the Ken Burns feature on my video sequences, for the first time and that's created more of a sense of movement. Now, it's like the video camera is panning and zooming and stuff like that.

The trick, I suppose, is to not overdo that. Or to use it with subtlety. Which is a challenge, because I find myself wanting to use it on every piece of the video.

I think I've found a better way to film myself, too. It seems to me that the "fake fan feedback" sequences of this chapter are of substantially better video quality. That's down to importing the video directly, using the function available within the editing program. So, from next instalment onwards, I'll probably stop using PhotoBooth (the program I used before) entirely.

Chastity - Chapter Two

2012-02-10T21:37:00.000Z

Still in the early days. Still getting used to being caged up in the Spiral.

But today, I went out for a couple of hours. I had some stuff to do, and so this was the first time I left my flat since locking the belt on. Over the last day or so (it's hard to tell - I've lost track of time), I've been busy editing the videos and that takes up a lot of time.

My sleeping patterns are still all over the place. That's nothing to do with the belt, though - it's more to do with internet stuff. Mainly tweaking the videos, then uploading them. I've been writing up cue cards to remind myself of all the steps along the way. Now, whenever I create a new instalment, I refer to the card so that I know what versions to delete, what versions to store, what versions to upload here and what versions to upload onto YouTube - always assuming that YouTube will finally allow me to post them.

So... there are still teething troubles. But those are concerned more with technical details than with the logistics of the belt itself. So far, I've only been intermittently conscious of that. I'm sure that will change with time, though, as I get fewer distractions.

Chastity - Chapter One

2012-02-09T23:27:00.000Z

So the previous posting should serve as a prequel to this posting. Because this has now turned into an ongoing blog.

The challenge has been accepted. T and I have now started our game and I'm locked into the belt. And I'm going to stay locked in until I either win a game or until the 17th of this month - because on the 18th, I have a hen party to attend. Which means I can't stand in front of a group of girls completely naked - apart from a chastity device. That's going to invite some awkward questions.

The Spiral male chastity device

2012-02-08T02:14:00.002Z

I was playing around a bit, today. With my brand new Spiral chastity device and with the video editing tools on my MacBook Pro. This is my first ever proper video. The first one, I mean, that isn't just a series of photos loosely strung together like a basic slideshow set to music. This is me actually trying to create something original and new.

The anticipation of a future of uncertainty and frustration

2012-02-07T17:52:00.000Z

Photography: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Model: G. Farquhar

The items in the picture are the component pieces of a Spiral chastity device for men. Once such a device is locked into place, there aren’t too many ways to remove it. The “prisoner” can use the key – if that isn’t being held by someone else. Or he can try to cut his way free.

The second option isn’t the most advisable one.

This is one of the hazards of owning a penis… it can be locked up.

And this is the main reason I'm interested in chastity as an occasional lifestyle choice... the discipline has to come from without.

And in case any of you are curious... perhaps the above picture will show you what you want to see.

Scrabble... and chastity

2012-02-06T07:15:00.000Z

So... that chick I was talking about recently? Well, we've developed our Scrabble concept a little. Or... more specifically... I've come up with a fresh twist to it, suggested it to her and talked her into it.

I recently ordered and received a Spiral chastity device. It arrived on Friday afternoon. I was tempted to try it on straight away, but since I had a class the following day, I figured it was better to wait a couple of days. I didn't want my cock all marked up when I was trying to look good for a group of girls who are only interested in checking out my naked body. Yeah, sometimes there's a price to pay for being sexually objectified.

Anyway... the game. Tomorrow afternoon (actually, later today) I'll be talking to this chick on Skype and that's when I'll put the belt on for the first time. And then I'll secure the keys, while she watches. And I've already admitted to her that there are three keys - so she'll know to watch every one of them being secured.

I'm not going to go into all the specifics of the securing process, by the way - it's a bit boring.

So once the belt is on, once she's confident that the keys are secure and once she's confident that I can present the keys to her any time we're on Skype - thus proving that they haven't been accessed - everybody's going to be happy.

The main problem with long distance chastity games, though, seems to lie in how to make them interesting. I don't want to force any keyholder to show constant interest in how things are going, because that can turn into a chore. And I don't want to constantly mention the chastity, because that can seem a bit whiney - like I'm talking about how much of an ordeal it is. So I was wondering how to make it a sort of background thing without constantly dragging it out into the open.

And that's when I thought of the Scrabble game. And the concept of turning it into a competition came to mind. So now... if I win a game, I get the right to produce the keys and unlock the belt. Then play a whole game of Scrabble without the belt, which gives us both time to evaluate how the previous event went. And then - if we both want to - we go again with the next game. If she wins, however, the belt stays on.

And these games can last a few days at a time... so it's not a minor thing if she wins.

There are a lot of reasons that this will work. If I expect her to make decisions about whether the belt goes on or comes off, it will become a bit of a chore very quickly for her and I want it to remain fun. But if she's competing with me... if she's playing the best words she possibly can... then it's not about denying me, but about simply playing a good game. That's not a femdom thing. That's a competitive thing - with permission to laugh and to rub it in a bit if she wins. Essentially, it should free her from any real feeling of responsibility. If she wins five games in a row, she's not going to feel like she's being a bitch by refusing to allow me any freedom. She's going to feel like a good player who's winning an extra forfeit every time she succeeds. The distinction may seem like a subtle one to some people, but it's still a very relevant one.

The best thing about it is that we're not just talking about token periods of a few hours or an overnight period in chastity... it's going to be at least three days every time. I'm sure that's going to really create a sense of trepidation when we approach the end of any game with scores that are relatively level.

This is going to be fun.

Claustrophile

2012-02-06T06:48:00.000Z

Photography: G. Farquhar
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

I like how these turned out. Sometimes self-portraits can work quite nicely.

The main prop I used was a chest I found in the streets, one day. It was near my home and had clearly been dumped. I loved it, so I took it home and made it a central feature in my living room. And earlier today, I took these pictures.

It just shows how good the results can be, even with a camera 'phone. I suspect that around 75% of the pictures I post these days were taken with my iphone 4S. Which is why I've started turning some of them into covers for iphones as well.

Walk tall

2012-02-05T01:41:00.002Z

Sometimes a situation can take on a life of its own. One thing seems to be slightly risky, but nothing major; but then an unexpected turn of events can completely transform the situation into something else.

My cousin J and my friend N and I were at my flat a few years ago - back when I still lived in Greenock. And at some point I got stripped down to my boxers. I can't remember why I did that, but it was a laugh. We all thought it was funny.

Eventually, N decided it was time to go home, so she called a taxi. I walked down stairs with her, and since it was summer and since it was late at night and since nothing seemed like a bad idea by then, I didn't bother throwing anything on. I was decent - barely. And if any of the neighbours saw me, I'd have just laughed it off.

The taxi arrived and N asked me to make sure she got home safely, so I got in the taxi with her. I think that by then, she was curious to see how far I'd go. The taxi driver seemed amused, but never really commented.

When I got back to the flat, I was just in time to see J leaving. The taxi was leaving, just as I met him at the stair door. He had assumed that I had gone home with N and was going to spend the night with her, so had decided to go home. Which meant that my front door was now locked.

He asked if I had my key, then remembered that all I had on was boxer shorts - not even anything on my feet. We were both laughing by then, but worrying at the same time. Then we decided to brazen it out completely and walk back to his place, which wasn't far away. Laughing the whole time about just how ridiculous the situation was. We never met another person along the way, which I was grateful for. I like to take liberties and be a bit bold now and then, but sometimes - when a situation takes on its own momentum - it can become a bit nerve wracking. We agreed, however, that there was to be no skulking about and hiding behind corners and checking the coast was clear - nothing like that. Just walk tall and act like there's nothing unusual about two guys - one almost naked - walking the streets of a rough town like Greenock in the middle of the night.

I crashed at his place overnight, borrowed some of his clothes the following morning and used his spare key to get back into my place. Everything was cool in the end. But it made for a funny story that I haven't thought about in months. I need to remind him about it. See if he still finds it to be as funny as I do.

Some smoking pictures (Part Two)

2012-02-04T10:05:00.003Z

Photography: Adriana
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

I thought I would return to this theme... there were too many other pictures to completely ignore it.

Discipline from within

2012-02-03T09:36:00.001Z

Photography: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Words: G. Farquhar

A lot of people might not immediately recognise the sexual content of this picture... but it's got a very subversive and kinky element going on. You just have to know what you're looking at. And if you do... then the words should make sense.

Laundry

2012-01-29T17:27:00.002Z

Photography: Adriana
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Words: G. Farquhar

This is my Laundry series. It could almost be considered as a follow-up to my Domestic harmony series from 2010. Well... sadly, the individual pictures might be too small to see properly. But you could always take a look at my Redbubble site and see them a bit better.

Some smoking pictures

2012-01-27T19:27:00.003Z

Photography: Adriana
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

I don't smoke... but I wanted some smoking pictures. The thing that must piss off anti-smoking campaigners is this one indisputable fact - that sometimes, a cigarette can look incredibly cool. And it was that coolness that I wanted to capture.

There are other pictures in the sequence - they can be seen at here.

This theme just won't end

2012-01-23T07:23:00.001Z

Photography: G. Farquhar
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

Every time I think I won't do another cock shot, something else occurs to me and I manage to stretch the concept out that little bit further. Last night I created this...

Shy

2012-01-20T13:25:00.001Z

Photography: G. Farquhar
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Words: G. Farquhar

Just having fun with my iphone, again.

Cock shots

2012-01-12T19:47:00.002Z

Photography: G. Farquhar
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

I was messing around with my iphone again, last night, while I was lying naked across my couch in the living room. It occurred to me, that with the right bit of creative framing, I could get a nice contrast between my hand, my cock and my thighs. And so this was the result...

2012-01-07T23:49:00.000Z

Photography: K. Bylok
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

These pictures were created last night. They're cool... but a bit dark and probably a bit scary. Do you think you'd like to hang around with me if I looked like this all the time?

Help!

2012-01-04T12:19:00.000Z

Photography: Anonymous
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

I'm not strong enough on my own. Can somebody help me with this thing? I've tried chaining it, but I just can't hold it down.

A new perspective on despair

2012-01-04T11:38:00.001Z

Photography: Anonymous
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

I'm sticking with the recent theme I've been following - that being a combination of white boxers and gratuitously cock-oriented pictures. These might confuse the RedBubble censors enough for them to be accepted.

Dry clothes or wet?

2011-12-27T17:56:00.004Z

Photography: Anonymous
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

What's your preference?

Words with friends

2011-12-23T10:28:00.004Z

A few months ago, I downloaded an app called Words with friends to my iphone. It's a sort of Scrabble game that can be played online.

A few days ago, I started playing against a girl called... well, for the moment, I'll call her T.

A couple of days ago, I started talking to her. And, typically, I can't remember why.

On Wednesday night, we started talking about my pictures. I had already sent her the link to my RedBubble site and she had taken a look. Then I mentioned this site and she said she'd like to see it.

I was reluctant at first. The RB site is cool, because it's out there for anyone to see. The pictures get very suggestive and erotic at times, but they're still good, wholesome family viewing - at least in those families that don't have nudity taboos going on. The pictures and stories on here, though... well, they're much more explicit, even if they're just as artistic. So I really felt that before I could send her the link to this site, I had to be very sure of her age. I was already pretty confident of that, but now I felt like I needed proof that she was at least into her mid twenties.

So she sent me a link to her own site and I took a look... then sent a message to the email address on that site to confirm that she hadn't just picked one at random... and then a couple more emails... and finally I was completely satisfied of her identity and of age. And feeling a little strangely sleazy at the same time. It's like it's not possible to feel tainted if you have to go to such lengths to confirm that you're not talking to a little girl who has somehow managed to demonstrate sufficient maturity to avoid setting off any alarm bells.

Then she sent two pictures. Now, there was no way I would take a look at anything she sent me and then be uncomplimentary - I may have autism, but I do understand the point of diplomacy, sometimes. But these pictures were beautiful. Both were self-portraits with a camera 'phone and presumably in front of a mirror. In one, she wasn't wearing a lot of clothes and I loved it. But the other one - even though she was showing less skin - was even nicer. I loved the shape of her face and the way her hair hung down. Now, I'm not going to say I fell in love with someone after a couple of pictures and a couple of internet conversations... but... I'm really getting to like this chick.

Last night - armed with renewed confidence and now completely sure that she was into her mid-twenties - I was happy to let the conversation rove further into sexual territory as we returned to our online game of Scrabble. And as it got pervier and pervier, I loved the contrast. She laid down the word "Juicy" with the "J" on a triple letter and got a word that was worth more than 40 points - and I spoke about stripping her naked and making her walk with me, out in public, at some hippy art festival somewhere. I looked at her pictures again, with those quirky librarian glasses and we spoke about blow-jobs.

She's nervous about public nudity. But she wants to be dominated and "handled". And so, those nerves just make it even more exciting for me to think about stripping her. I thought about how I'd get her to walk with me dressed in light clothes at first. Possibly a t-shirt and shorts, with a bikini underneath. And how I'd get carry a bag - and progressively, throughout the day, I'd take her clothes from her. T-shirt first, then shorts - stick both of them in the bag. Then, the bit that would push her limits a bit - I'd take her bikini top from her. I'd make her walk with me and I'd watch her critically. If she showed signs of being defensive... if she hunched her shoulders or brought her hands up, I'd tell her to straighten her back, to be proud of her tits and to enjoy showing them off. I'd tell her that every straight man at the place - and a lot of the women - would be watching us, would be looking at her body and would be very envious of me.

When I take her last item of clothing from her, I'd make her go ahead of me - about thirty paces - and walk back to where we were staying. I'd follow on and watch her, wondering how nervous she was. I'd see people look over and wonder if she was alone. And I'd enjoy knowing that she felt alone and vulnerable - but still knew that I was still there with her, ready to step forward and give her clothes back to her if it was too much for her to deal with. And I'd make sure she knew that I would never force her to do this if she really didn't want to - but that it would please me if she did.

I have no idea where this is going. She's married, she lives in Texas and we barely know each other. Odds are against it going any further than this... but she's absolutely beautiful, she seems to think like I do (so far, at least) and I can't help fantasising about her.

We played Scrabble until around 2AM, before I decided that I needed to finish up and get some sleep, but not before I challenged her to send me a couple of topless pictures. Then I wanked off twice, picked up my 'phone and checked my email - and found she'd already answered my challenge. Another seven pictures - showing her in lingerie and lying on a bed and kneeling on the floor and showing me the most perfect pair of tits I can imagine.

I wanked off one last time and went to sleep at last. And while I slept, I had vague, horny, muddled dreams. And, typically, I can only remember various disjointed highlights from them. Some of them were things we discussed last night, so I know that conversation definitely influenced the dreams.

I think they were about a first meeting. And, it seems, that I made her my bitch right away. Stamped my mark and claimed my property. I remember going to a piercing clinic to get a ring put through her right nipple, to match my own. I remember taking her to a clinic to get her pussy waxed. I remember getting some waxing of my own done immediately afterward, and telling her that she'd enjoy my smooth balls when I teabagged her later. And I remember taking her to a fetish party, where I secured her in an A-Frame and got a dominatrix to use her as a model so I could learn the best way to sensually flog, spank and cane her.

I don't remember fucking her, though. I think the dream was all about us teasing each other. Taking her out, marking her, claiming her - and building us both up to a horny, deviant mass of desire.

I could be in trouble, here. I really like this girl.

I want to be fantasised about

2011-12-22T19:28:00.000Z

Photography: Anne
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

But I don't know how to go about encouraging peoples' fantasies. I could post pictures, but my pot belly, bald bit and shrivelled up testes tend to put people off. I could talk about the things that turn me on, but that just makes me look sleazy and depraved. Perhaps I should talk about juvenile stuff like masturbation, but I'm sure that'll just reveal me as a bit of a wanker.

Umm... OK... I'll do that, anyway...

And maybe somebody out there with low standards will like it and start to fantasise about me.

Performance anxiety... and Magnums

2011-12-17T18:53:00.002Z

I've been doing well for sex, lately. It amazes me to think that I used to find it so hard to make a connection with other people that I never thought I'd lose my virginity. That's a common thing with autistic people, by the way - even with the high-functioning people like me.

Anyway... performance anxiety is not the easiest thing to admit to, but it happens occasionally. And rather than let it fuck things up as dramatically as I did last month with the last girl I dated, I owned up to it. Occasionally, I learn from my mistakes.

This time I was dating a girl in London for a few days. And when I wasn't staying hard, she wanted to know why. I really just wanted to curl up in a ball and make the world go away, but I talked about it.

I told her it was a mixture of performance anxiety and restrictive condoms on a cock that's thicker than average. I cringed when I made that second point. It sounds like an incredibly poor excuse. Worse than that - it sounds like I'm taking a personal flaw and claiming it's the result of a personal attribute. Like taking something negative and trying to make it look like something positive.

But I'm generally OK right up until I put the condom on. That's my pattern. In her mouth, in her hand, in my own hand... I was completely fine. Then the condom goes on and I try to fuck her and I feel a bit of softening. Then I panic. And then it's like trying to play Snooker with a length of rope.

And I've even developed strategies to disguise it. I like to play for hours. For a long, long time.

I don't even mind if I don't cum on the first night. Often the playing and the teasing go on for so long that we're both exhausted and fall asleep. Often I wake up in the morning with a hard-on that can break glass - and then everything's different. We'll fuck and I'll cum and nothing goes wrong. But this time - with this girl - she wanted to be fucked hard and repeatedly and often and early. And that's what exposed my deficiencies - for the second time with the second girl in less than a month.

Anyway, she agreed with me about the restrictive condoms. And she produced a different type for me to try out. She got it from the States and said it was called a Magnum. Apparently, these are designed for black men. That's what she said. OK... fair enough... perhaps that was an ego-stroking thing to say, just to make it easier on me. After all, I know I'm not hung that well.

(She sent this to me yesterday, by the way. I thought it was interesting.)

Anyway, it worked. I used the Magnum, then fucked her. I want a lot more of those condoms. What a relief. I think, perhaps, I was able to redeem myself with her in the end.

I didn't actually cum at all until the last day of my stay in London, by the way. And that was a five-day trip. I really enjoyed bringing her off and whenever I did, we both would relax and chill out. Days one to three were about fucking. Day four she went to work and I gave her a long massage to relax her when she came home. Day five, time was limited and I made her suck me, then I wanked into her mouth. We had less than an hour to get ready before we drove out to the airport so I could get home, so I decided that this time I wasn't going to mess around. I felt a little guilty about that. But only a little.

How do you measure it?

2011-12-13T18:49:00.000Z

A couple of days ago, a girl asked me how big I was. I told her it was just shy of eight inches. Saying that sounds good - although over eight inches would be better. That's a male ego thing, though. After all, I suspect that most of us - no matter how well hung - have looked down at them and thought that one extra inch would be sheer perfection.

Anyway, she told me I must have measured it wrong. She's got it in her hand by now, and studying it. She points to a part on the underside - just where the shaft ends and the scrotum begins - and tells me that's the point where the measuring starts.

Now, I've only ever measured the top side. I've placed the ruler right at the junction where the shaft meets my stomach and measured to the tip. The under side seems too vague. After all... what's to stop you from starting at the arsehole?

She's insistent, though... and her rules would give me that magical, mythical extra inch. Without any surgery at all.

I might update my measurement stats very soon.

Trying too hard

2011-12-01T18:17:00.001Z

Sometimes, when I like someone too much, I think I try too hard and fuck it up...

I met someone cool a few days ago. She was staying with me and we were talking about BDSM relationships, so I made a proposal. I dug out my PA5000 and suggested I wear it and give her the key for the duration of her stay. Since her planned visit was barely even 24 hours, it wasn't really much of a hardship.

I think she was initially sceptical. But I assured her that I had no expectations - and that even if she held on to the key and did nothing with it, then it would still add a little extra colour to her visit. I let her know I had no expectations, other than getting the key returned to me at some point. Even if that happened just before she boarded her train, it would still be cool.

No expectations, but plenty of hopes.

She asked a couple of questions, clarified what I was getting at, then went for it. I went for a shower, she made sure the belt was secure, then we got dressed and went out.

We had a cool time. We stopped at the protest on St Andrew Square and she revealed how politically aware she was, when she got into a debate with the people there, while I revealed how clueless I was by standing in the background being quietly impressed. At one point I picked up and thumbed through a copy of Ayn Rand's Atlas shrugged - and Christ only knows what that book was doing lying around there. But mostly I was painfully aware that I would have nothing sensible to contribute to this conversation.

I took her around the Grassmarket and into Greyfriar's Kirk and a couple of places in the general neighbourhood - and eventually we ended up in the Banshee's Labyrinth, where I wanted to show her the free cinema. A great concept - it's like a student pub - but with a cinema. It's on Niddrie Street, if you're ever in Edinburgh... go and check it out.

The Dark Knight was playing, and it was at this point that we really started getting into the full spirit of the tease. She sat between my thighs and I gave her an acupressure massage in the back row of the cinema, and she reached back and tickled my balls gently, until I got her to stop - not because I didn't like being teased into that semi-painful erection, but because while she had her arm reaching back, her scapula was in the wrong position for me to massage her properly.

Then we started kissing and fondling each other properly. I stroked her pussy through her jeans and was delighted when she opened her thighs to let me in. And before long, I had her jeans open and my fingers inside her properly. She showed me how to stroke her the way she liked it.

And then she started telling me what she liked. Her voice was soft, but still... the people in the row in front of us must have heard some of what she said. And by now, I'm hard enough that I'm actually squirming a bit. My cock is really starting to be constricted by the bars of this cage it's locked up in. We decided we'd had enough and went back to mine.

It's still going well. We've agreed by now that if I get any release at all, then I'm going to earn it. And so, when we get in, I take her to my room, and start to eat her cunt. And at this point, it's still going well. I'm having a great time.

It's when the belt came off that it started going wrong. That's when I started to be less passive and more proactive. And normally that's cool. Most of the girls I've been with before now have liked when I've been proactive. And I've liked it, because it's allowed me to set a pace I'm more comfortable with - so if I'm not getting hard quickly enough, I can disguise it by doing something else so they don't get near my cock until it's ready for them.

Not this time, though. She wanted to go on top. And my two main problems started to kick in. A combination of performance anxiety and (I'm not kidding here, though it'll probably sound that way) condoms that are restrictive. Seriously. I know that most men out there claim that they're bigger than they really are, but I do have a bit of a problem with condoms. I don't want to fuck without them, but they definitely impede the blood flow. And that kicks in the performance anxiety. And that exacerbates the problem. Oh, and I'd wanked off twice that morning, before I met her - something I'd never have done if I'd known we might end up fucking. Anyway, she was on top and trying to cram a half-hard cock inside her and I was fully aware of my deficiency.

So... it went badly from then on. And the following morning, when I woke up and found that she'd gone to the spare room, I knew that I'd done something wrong. I could remember some of it vaguely - just enough to make me cringe a little. And then, bit by bit, over the course of the day, the rest of it came back to me, accompanied by a cringe-inducing sense of horror.

As we left the flat to go for another walk into town, I remembered pushing her off me and trying to take her doggy-style. I felt my cock thickening up again when I was more in control and setting the pace, but it was definitely the wrong thing to do. I know I was too rough at that point, because she winced and snarled over her shoulder at me.

As we sat down in a shop in the Grassmarket, I remembered thinking that she just wanted it over with and trying to end it. Probably the biggest misjudgement of all. I actually knelt over her and started wanking - trying to cum over her tits. In my head this seemed like a good idea. I genuinely thought that I was doing her a favour.

As we watched a couple of short films in an art gallery, more and more details came back. And the whole time, I just kept on cringing.

Later, I tried to talk about it, but she wasn't interested in that conversation. I hoped that if I acknowledged my misjudgements and accepted them, and that if I let it be known that I had learned from my mistakes, then - if she came back to Edinburgh and stayed with me again, then she might give me a second chance. After all, I genuinely did like her.

She told me I was a great tour guide, though. So at least I got that much right. Nothing else, though.

Biohazard

2011-11-18T18:52:00.001Z

Photography: G. Farquhar
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

About an hour ago, I felt a bit creative and came up with this concept. I think it works. Some might consider it to be dark, but... come on... biohazards and wanking? They go together, surely.

The guardians of our morals

2011-10-25T15:28:00.004+01:00

I recently uploaded a picture, in which I challenged and questioned some of the differences between art and pornography. The picture was – I strongly believed – artistic rather than pornographic. It was bold and striking and had a strong aesthetic value.

This is it.

I set the following text to accompany it…

The penis has been viewed negatively in the past and it remains a contentious topic, even today. It’s been a long time since we had people chipping them off priceless statues or adding fig leafs to classic paintings, but still… there are people who would rather they didn’t feature in art at all.

Some will concede that – in context – a penis is acceptable, but not as the main focus of a picture. And that’s only when they’re soft. Shy, floppy, discreet, meek and unassuming.

But what about when a penis is the prime focus of the picture? Maybe that’s acceptable – sometimes – but what if it’s hard? Worst of all, what if there’s a hand wrapped round it to suggest masturbation? Why is that STILL taboo?

I uploaded it onto a different site, as well. An art site where I put a lot of my pictures. I use it to promote myself. The site is called RedBubble.

It had a lot of feedback – more so than any other picture I have recently uploaded. And all of the feedback was positive. There was not one single negative comment in there. It sparked off a bit of a discourse about the nature of pornography and it touched on the fact that we are more offended by depictions of our won bodies, than we are by depictions of violence.

After less than two days, it was removed by RedBubble. And I got a personal email to explain why.

Hi Graham,

Thank you for being a part of RedBubble. Recently, one of your works was reported to us as falling outside our guidelines for content so we wanted to send you a reminder about our guidelines regarding nudity and erotic works. Content on RedBubble needs to fall within the community guidelines and RedBubble’s user agreement. Our guidelines on nudity/pornography state that the following material is not permissible: “Penises and vaginas: This will generally include close-up vagina images or images that show intimate details of a vagina and male nudes with an erection, or images where the penis is the focal subject”. You can see the full guidelines here.

We have de-published your works “This is not pornography”, “A life in chains” and “this is mine” as they fall outside our guidelines on appropriate content. Please take the time to familiarize yourself with our community guidelines and our user agreement to ensure that you do not upload any work that may be considered inappropriate according to these guidelines. We also ask that you review your current portfolio and remove any works that may fall outside our content guidelines. In addition, we must remind you that future valid reports regarding inappropriate content may result in a formal warning or your account may be suspended.

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation,
The RedBubble Support Team

Now, let’s gloss over the “understanding and cooperation” part. I don’t understand and I have no choice but to cooperate, so there was nothing for them to be thankful for there. So no point in analysing that particular statement.

But the part that particularly irritated me was the definition for “gratuitous”. The words “unnecessary or unwarranted” were used. I appreciate the definition, but now I think I’m going to have to find out the real definitions of “unnecessary” and “unwarranted”. The picture was illustrating a point. So definitely neither unnecessary, nor unwarranted.

Ultimately, however, Redbubble only served to highlight my point. I think it’s highly unlikely they bothered to read either my text or the comments that accompanied the picture.

I'm curious to see whether the post on Redbubble gets any similar feedback to the picture. Anyone else who's interested in finding out can check here.

The souvenir

2011-10-16T19:08:00.009+01:00

Photography: T. Slilat
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Words: G. Farquhar

I felt bad for him, as soon as I did it, but I couldn’t ignore the opportunity. I mean… how often do you ever get to see a guy actually wanking?

I found his clothes first. Dumped carelessly in a pile, nearby. They were clearly a man’s clothes and I knew instantly that he mst be nearby and naked. Probably sunning himself. Probably swimming in the river. But definitely doing something that required nudity. And so I wanted to see him.

I crept closer to the river. But when I found him, I realised I could have made a lot more noise without disturbing him. He was completely lost in his own world. Blissfully oblivious to my quiet approach.

I was fascinated. I’d been expecting the nudity, so that was no surprise, but to see his cock clenched in his fist like that… to see it pumping so violently… that was beyond all expectations. I mean… I know men masturbate… but I just didn’t expect to see it.

I felt like I was intruding on something intimate and personal, but I coudln’t tear myself away. I was compelled to watch. To listen to the little gasps and whimpers. To see the way his face contorted. To watch the increasingly frantic jerks and pumps of his hand.

But watching wasn’t enough. I needed a souvenir. Some evidence of what I had seen. How else was I going to be able to prove it to my friends when i told them all about it the following day?

So I took out my camera and snapped off a picture. And that was what gave me away. That tiny little noise startled him and his head snapped round to look at me – panic, confusion and shock all apparent on his face.

Like I said… I felt bad for him. But not TOO bad. At least I had my souvenir.

The photographer's education

2011-10-09T19:11:00.000+01:00

Photography: Anonymous
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Words: G. Farquhar

The words accompanying this picture are very candid, erotically charged and NSFW. But since you probably can't read the thumbnail, I'll include them here. That's them below the picture.

The second I saw him, I could tell how much of a whore he was. I knew I’d be able to get him to do anything I wanted.

I slipped him my card. I told him I was a photographer. I told him I wanted to take pictures of him.

I took him back to my studio and started setting up the lights and the camera. From the corner of my eye I could see him shifting nervously - clearly wondering whether he really wanted to participate after all. It crossed my mind that he might chicken out and leave, but I never really took that concern too seriously. This guy was the biggest slut I’d met in weeks. And I had him wrapped round my little finger.

I got him to undress very slowly and took pictures of every step. I could see his hands actually shaking as he unbuckled his belt. He was so far out of his depth now that he couldn’t even contemplate refusing to do a single thing I asked for.

I made him slow down as he went to drop his jeans. I wanted to draw this part out. I wanted to see them open at the waist, just as he started to lower them. I wanted that glimpse of his boxers, that shadow of his crotch to hint at what lay within. And I wanted that tantalising treasure trail of hair, pointing the way downward.

As the jeans dropped past his crotch, he turned away in embarrassment. I wasn’t surprised. I knew he was turned on and was trying to hide his hard-on. He still thought this was fine-art nude. He still thought a hard cock wasn’t part of my plan. And so far, I had said and done nothing to make him think otherwise. I had to speak sternly, to make him turn back to me and reveal his arousal. Then I licked my lips, moved in closer, took some rapid shots of his hard cock straining against his tight, black boxers and I told him how beautiful he was.

When I got him to lower his boxers, his cock spilled out into the open and pointed at me. I moved round to his side so I could photograph it in profile, removing that foreshortening effect that robs a man of valuable inches.

Then I made him lie on his back and I told him I wanted to see him play with himself. For a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed him a step too far, when I saw that he was clearly having trouble overcoming that deeply rooted inhibition, but slowly - very slowly - his hand crept down and
tentatively wrapped around the hard, hard cock that was fully in charge, now. He stroked it slowly, gingerly at first. Then, with my approval and encouragement, he began to pump harder, faster and more violently. I snapped off more and more pictures.

I was amazed. I had no idea that a man could be so aggressive with himself. That a hard cock could take so much punishment. Such a strong beating.

When he told me he was about to cum, I moved in very close and held my finger down on the button, snapping off shot after shot. When he started to spurt, I knew I’d managed to capture the perfect cumshot. And later, when I checked the pictures, I was astonished and delighted at the beauty of his semen flying through the air - erupting from the end of his large, beautifully formed cock.

I know there are people who would call this pornography. But they don’t see the raw, perfect, visceral, erotically charged beauty of it. I’m not one of those people.

I call it art.

This isn't what it looks like

2011-09-23T19:17:00.001+01:00

Photographer: Anonymous
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

Billy Connolly said "I was just counting my willys."

Someone else said "It's my penis and I'll wash it as fast as I want to."

And a lot of people - despite all the evidence to the contrary - will frantically claim that it isn't what it looks like.

To explore the lingering taboo of masturbation in a photograph can be a bit adventurous. Critics, censors and those who seek to define the differences between art and pornography are all likely to become involved in the resulting debates. But it's easy to hint and suggest and insinuate... so this isn't what it looks like.

I forgot I had these

2011-09-23T19:15:00.001+01:00

Photography: G. Farquhar
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

Occasionally, I create a picture that I'm not happy with. Then I sort of set it aside. I kind of give up on it.

Occasionally, I rediscover that picture. And occasionally, I think it's not as bad as I remember it. And occasionally, when I look at it with a fresh perspective, I actually love it.

I vaguely remember creating these pictures. I can't remember why I set them aside. But I seriously love them now.

More depravity

2011-09-17T19:19:00.000+01:00

Photography: N.C.
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

I'm really not sure what I can say to add to this. Perhaps it's better just to see what kind of comments and feedback I'll get.

Memories of summer

2011-09-17T16:41:00.005+01:00

Since summer is heading out, and autumn is coming in, I thought I'd share one of my brightest, sunniest, most relaxing days.

Photographer: A. Webster
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

A few weeks ago, on a beautiful, hot and sunny day, a friend and I were walking along the canal near my new flat in Gorgie. We walked right out of town, towards Falkirk, stopped at a bridge, drank a couple of beers (like a pair of Jakeys) and started walking back. On the way back, we discovered a river that we had missed - it was concealed by some trees - and hiked down to it.

She took some pictures of me skinny dipping. I was a bit hesitant to get in at first, because I hate cold water, but I was really keen on seeing how the pictures would look, so I went for it. After the initial shock, it felt great.

The problem came when I uploaded them. I created thirteen pictures of a similar theme to the this one and uploaded them all to RedBubble. But I like to give my pictures titles, and I couldn't think of enough decent titles without sounding either repetitive or cheesy. When I found myself with four variations of the same phrase, I decided to rethink the concept.

So I wrote a poem. I based it on an old song I like (I think it's called Jeepers Creepers) and specifically created a poem with thirteen lines - one for every picture. And then I went back and renamed every picture after a line in the poem.

The full poem runs like this...

I don't care what the newsman says
When the newsman speaks of troubles.
Your troubles may be doubled,
But there's room in the river with me.

I don't care what the pessimist says,
When he says that summer's ending.
We've still got sunny weather,
So climb in the river with me.

Wash off the grime of the dirty old city,
That dirty old city won't be so pretty,
When you've climbed in the water with me.
The only way to feel free.
Is to bathe in the river with me.

A quick wank

2011-09-11T19:26:00.000+01:00

Photography: Anne
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar

It's strange, how even if we're in active physical relationships with people we love... even when we can fuck all day, every day... even when the sex is absolutely amazing... a lot of us still have to get a bit of time alone so that we can masturbate. Nothing will replace a quick wank.

Part of my story

2011-09-11T19:21:00.001+01:00

Since I'm on the subject of masturbation today, I thought I'd post something else. I've been writing about my life lately, and I included a few pages about my first ever wank. It's a comic - and sadly, I haven't got it illustrated just yet. I'll post the relevant pages very soon.

I want to be fantasised about

2011-09-11T11:59:00.000+01:00

Masturbation

2011-09-04T13:05:00.005+01:00

Anyone who has been following my writing doesn't really need this warning, but I better give it anyway...

I don't consider pictures that feature erections or scenes of masturbation to be automatically pornographic. The "what" is never as important as the "how". In other words, I believe that it's not what you show, but how you show it. So... this should serve as a bit of a caution... if you disagree with me, then you might consider the pictures at the conclusion of this story to be pornographic.

Recently, I've had a guest staying with me. I met her through a sort of international network of people who travel and share their homes with each other. She is going to study in Edinburgh later this year, but wanted to see the country before her studies started, so needed to share a space with someone until her student flat is available.

So, for a few days, everything is cool. She has the spare bedroom and I have my own room. Nothing sexual going on at all. I knew she had a boyfriend, so didn't even consider making a move on her. Not just because of the boyfriend, though... if I made any advances that were rejected, then she might have been uncomfortable afterward and I didn't want her to feel trapped into sharing a living space with someone that had made an unwelcome move.

But one night, my cousin was in town and we all went out for drinks in the Grassmarket. Joe and I got a bit drunk, so the inhibitions were lowered a bit. Earlier in the day, my nephew had been speaking to her about manga and she made a reference to hentai to embarass him - and I thought that was pretty funny. And I realised that she had a dirty streak of her own. Well, that night, the uninhibited, flirty conversations made me realise that she wasn't that easily shocked.

The following morning we were talking again and I asked if she was up for a photographic session. I showed her my book of pictures - including some arty masturbation pictures - and asked if she was cool with all the pictures in the book. She was, so we got the room set up and I started modelling for her.

Initially, the pictures were generally just nudes that I can use on my RedBubble site. I was sometimes hard, sometimes soft - all just depending on the mood at the time. I was just relaxing into it. She told me she'd never seen an uncircumcised man before, so I wonder if she was curious or intrigued by that.

And eventually, I decided it was time for the masturbation pictures. Not all of them are great, which is sad. A lot are blurry. But they're still a lot better than anything I could take on my own. She walked round about me and took pictures from different angles - some close up, some further back to take in the whole body. Some focusing on my face. And all the time, I just went for it.

Unusually (for me) I used some lube. I wanted to make more of a performance out of this one, so the lube seemed like the way to go for that. I was slicker and more "glidey" than usual, which really helped with the mood. And after a couple of minutes, I just went for it - chasing down the orgasm. I think I came harder than I usually do and she captured that, too. Again, the pictures were a bit blurry, but I'm still hopeful that I can use them in my work.

Buy you a drink?

2011-09-02T12:02:00.000+01:00

Well, it's no secret that I have high-functioning autism. I tell everybody about it, so that they know there's a reason for my social clumsiness. But I didn't always know I had it. And I think it plays a part in this story. Because the social awkwardness plays a part in the fact that I was 27 before I finally got laid for the first time.

People on the AS spectrum tend to have repetitive thought patterns - which can easily become obsessive thought patterns. And we tend to overthink things as a result of that. So I wasn't any good at flirting. I wasn't able to use chat-up lines. I still can't do that, in fact - not unless I'm being incredibly ironic and taking the piss a bit.

But there was a very real stumbling block going on. If I wanted to flirt, then it was clear that there was an ultimate goal in mind. Flirting with a girl meant letting her know I wanted to have sex with her. This was how my thought processes ran, back then. And that just seemed rude.

I couldn't separate the steps in the process of flirtation, seduction and taking someone to bed. As far as I was concerned, the first step was really just a means of advancing to the next - and the next - and the conclusion. So even something as simple as saying "can I buy you a drink?" would translate in my head as "I want to fuck you." It was that black-and-white. And, of course, I was far too polite to tell anyone that I wanted to fuck her. In fact, I was so innocent and naive and virginal, that I'd have been horrified if anyone even thought that the word "seductive" could ever apply to me. Of course, back then, it definitely couldn't.

Thankfully, I've become far more comfortable with the filthy, dirty, horny, depraved and perverted part of my nature. It's right there on the surface, these days.

That sort of started when I forcibly made myself separate all the stages of seduction. I isolated them and set them into little groups. I told myself that I could be flirty and it could mean nothing. It didn't have to mean that I wanted to fuck.

So... one day, I quoted a Madness song at someone. I said "The sweetest girl, in all the world, these words are for you only." It was back before the internet really started to take off and I had some pen-pals - this was my means of connecting with other people, back then. I used those words as the opening lines of a letter to her, and I thought they were a really cool way of starting off a bit of correspondence like that. And since I wasn't likely to meet her (so I thought) it was a safe flirt. It didn't mean "I want to fuck you." Well, it did. But not really.

I got better at it very gradually. And about a year ago, I was sitting in a pub called Bannerman's with a girl that I liked and had been talking to for a while. I was wondering how to move to the next stage - or even if she was likely to be receptive to moving on. Then, eventually, I leaned forward, brushed her hair away from her ear and whispered to her "I want to fuck you." Just before I sat back, I added an extra little touch and bit her ear. Then I sat back and looked at her questioningly. She giggled... actually giggled. She had been very self-assured before that, but suddenly she was giggling.

Ten minutes later, I was fucking her. And we hadn't exactly been discreet - we had simply found the first dark spot we could find, out of the way of prying eyes. Not very successfully, as it turned out - because while we were fucking, two girls who had been sharing our table walked past and saw us. They were very amused.

Filthy thoughts

2011-06-20T01:34:00.000+01:00

It's true...

I do have dirty thoughts about you. All the time. They consume me. Night and day, I dream and daydream about fucking you. About grabbing you, hauling you off to the bedroom and throwing you down on the bed. Of pinning your arms and kneeling astride you. Staring into your eyes so you can see the lust smouldering out of them.

I wonder why that lust doesn't burn you up. Why it doesn't flare in your head, in your heart, in your cunt. Why the heat from it doesn't keep building, red hot, then white hot, then nothing but ashes. Why does the heat not consume you?

But it never does. It builds to unbearable levels, but it never burns us up. I'll flip you over onto your hands and knees, then plunge my cock deep between your dripping thighs and into your wetness. You'll scream my name for as long as your voice is capable of finding the words, and then, when you can't find them any more, you'll just scream and gasp and moan. Wordless, meaningless, growling noises that will just fan those flames even further... and still not consume us.

But it's almost too much for me to deal with and I don't want to finish just yet. I want you to taste yourself.

So I pull out and move round in front of you, presenting my cock for your mouth and watch as you lean forward and swallow it without hesitation. Your hand wraps round my shaft and your mouth closes round me and your hungry, greedy, pouting lips slide down so every inch of me is captivated by your throat and your fingers. I throw my head back and grasp your hair in my fists, just as I feel that burst of sensation overcome me.

And so, still holding your hair, I pull myself out of your mouth and release myself all over your face. Your mouth opens wide, but whether it's to swallow or protest, I don't know, because I'm already covering you and I hear nothing I can recognise as words. I ride out my orgasm, then when I look down at you, I see you looking up at me with my fluids running down your face.

Then... still holding your hair... I lean down and kiss you. And together, we fall down onto the bed in a sweaty, sticky, squirming, writhing mass of flesh and lips and lust.

Those are just some of the dirty thoughts I have about you.

He does what he wants to do

2011-06-20T00:33:00.012+01:00

Another comic... I really like this method of presenting both words and pictures.

I've used this metaphor before, but it's still very apt.

He's like a dog that's learned a few tricks but still knows his own mind too well.

He's never going to be one of those dogs that obeys instantly, because he's going to decide for himself what he wants to do.

You can pet him, stroke him, discipline him, put a leather collar on him and try just about anything that you want to try... but in the end, all your little tactics are going to be treated as mere suggestions and nothing else.

You want him to lie quietly in the corner? That's not likely to happen. He's more likely to announce his presence in a lively, animated manner and disrupt all attempts at civilised conversation.

He'll demand attention.

If you ignore him he'll just nudge your hand until you find yourself stroking him, despite yourself.

And nothing will make him happier than getting your full and undivided attention.

He's territorial. He's never going to stop chasing cats. He'll bark when he wants to. He loves sniffing at crotches.

He'll even wake up in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep.

And why does he have such a strong personality?

Well, I know that dogs are easier to deal with when they've been neutered, but I just don't think that's fair.

I'd rather not have to take such dramatic steps just to get a more easily controlled pet. Better to just accept the challenge and appreciate the rest. It's all just part of his personality.

After all, if you really need some peace, it's not like he's completely beyond control.

There are always going to be ways to get him to lie down again.

Adventures in waxing

2011-06-12T23:12:00.002+01:00

I got this idea a couple of hours ago and couldn't settle until I'd at least constructed a sort of prototype of it. This is a long way from being a satisfactory version of the story, so some day I'll get better pictures and redo it. These pictures were taken in my parents' dining room after the rest of the family had gone to bed - so a very poor location. And they were taken with the webcam on my brand new Macbook Pro - which I ordered from my mum's catalogue and which I'll still be paying for in about three years time.

Anyway... the words to this story... in case you want to read them, but are frustrated at the size of them.

I used to work as a massage therapist at a clinic in Glasgow.

And while I was there, I was often the guinea pig as new products were brought in.

I was generally known as being a bit adventurous.

I've been spray-tanned, I've had hot-stone therapy and I've been waxed.

In fact, I've had most parts of my body waxed at some point, now.

One day, I asked if I could get my thatch waxed.

I really wanted to know what it would be like.

I've had my chest done. I actually found that to be pretty easy to deal with, but I wasn't overly bothered about the look of it. I've had my eyebrows shaped. I've had the hair removed from my nose and my ears - and I miss those bits of grooming, when I find myself plucking my nose hairs twice a day. And a couple of times, the boss tried out something on my legs, so I've had smooth, bald patches there, too. We were only testing these products, so never felt the need to do the whole leg.

Now... you know that crease that marks the boundary between the lower abdomen and the groin?

Hang on, while I show you.

Anything above that crease was fine. I could take it with minimal discomfort.

But below it..? Christ! The pain was incredible. I had to halt the whole process while I still had a half-bald thatch.

I had a whole new respect for what women put themselves through after that.

Not that it was needed... I mean, I was already pretty aware that it had to be painful. But this was excruciating.

I just couldn't imagine why they'd choose to put themselves through that kind of agony.

Then, a few months ago, I modelled for Kim Lawless. She was in Edinburgh, teaching a class on mens' intimate waxing.

I volunteered. And one day, I found myself ready to be fully waxed. One of three male models being shared among seven female students.

It wasn't exactly the most dignified day of my life.

But it wasn't anywhere near as painful as that time in the clinic, because these students had been specifically taught how to wax men.

It was embarrassing at times. There was no false coyness and the students were completely "hands on". If anything got in the way of the job, they just moved it aside.

I definitely got a bit hard a couple of times, but that was completely ignored - just part of the routine.

The results were amazing. I was trimmed, shaped and waxed. The last time my balls felt that smooth was before I hit puberty.

And I wasn't left completely hairless. That's where the "shaping" element came in.

And it's addictive. Now I get it done again, every six weeks. And I'm hoping Kim gets in touch again, next time she has a class in Edinburgh.

Because my job requires me to be naked so much, I like to look my best for the girls who hire me.

And now, that's become part of the preparation... part of the grooming.

But I would still recommend this to other men out there.

Guys... get yourselves waxed and then invite your girlfriends to stroke (or lick) the smooth bits.

Girls... just demand it from them. Offer to hold their hands. Motivate them. I'm sure you know what rewards to offer - or what treats to withhold.

Just go for it... you won't regret it. And it might transform your sex lives.

Slow, sensual CBT

2011-06-10T12:04:00.000+01:00

It intrigues me.

I imagine myself sitting on a couch in the middle seat. My arms are tied to the arm rests, while ropes are attached to my feet and my knees, keeping my legs open. In this position, there's absolutely no way I can move to protect myself.

I'm not sure why this attracts me so much. It's kind of scary, really. But the vulnerability is intensely seductive. To have my cock so prominently on display and so open to any kind of abuse or attention - it's a potent scenario.

The key word here is "sensual", I think. That implies that there's no real brutality or nastiness going on. Just the vulnerability of being so open to someone who will use the power to her own advantage. I imagine stroking, licking and caressing, as well as the squeezing, slapping and crushing. Pain and pleasure being alternated, so that I never know what's coming next.

And not being able to hide any sign of arousal. Not clothing, not posture, not the use of hands - nothing to conceal just how excited I might get at any point. And that cock - when it stands and announces itself - surely makes for an even more enticing target.

I'm curious, though... there are a few people out there who know me and might read this. What would you do to me if you had me like this? I'm interested in seeing the different approaches you might have.

Camille Crimson

2011-05-30T14:10:00.003+01:00

Do you want to see beautiful pornography? I mean... porn that isn't nasty or degrading or obscene? Are you like me - constantly looking for porn that actually looks nice? I mean... yeah... horny and erotic and a serious turn-on, but something that actually looks playful, fun and seductive?

Maybe you want to watch the lifestyle of a geeky, redhead, blowjob expert?

Check out Camille Crimson. This is really beautiful stuff. I want my cock to feature in one of her videos.

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Bodyswap

2011-03-28T11:23:00.000+01:00

People who know me are already aware that I have a wide range of sexual fantasies. So the trick here, is to come up with something new. I'll post others in the group that are a bit less fantastic, but I want to kick off with a fresh one here.

I would like to switch bodies - for one day - with a trusted friend. She and I would agree to a time limit. Perhaps we'd go for our next waking period. And then we'd both go to sleep and wake up in each others' bodies.

We'd wake up and spend some time exploring. I would find a mirror and I would touch myself everywhere to see how the different touches felt different. I'd stroke my breasts, touch my pussy - just get very sensual. More exploratory than full-on masturbation at this point. I think I'd take some time building up to that.

Then I'd want a shower. I'd want to feel the water on my new body and build up the sensuality of it all. Soap myself up and delight in this mundane, but fresh tactile sensation.

Later, I would return to the mirror, but I would take some toys with me. This would be more invasive exploring. I suspect that I'd have a bit of a mental block when it comes to actually putting a vibrator inside myself, because I wouldn't be able to shake the feeling that there shouldn't be an entrance here, but time and patience would let me do it. And after a while, I'd probably go back to the bed and full-on fuck myself with that vibrator. I'd try it every way I can think of. On my knees, on my back, on all fours. I would be thinking of how different every touch feels and every sensation feels and I would think about how different my approach would be next time I had a lover. I would have a unique, perspective on how a female body works and this would colour and influence everything I did.

I know that every female body is different and I can't hold up my friend's body as a definitive example of what to do, but I feel sure that I'd still have a better idea.

Sometimes, I hope my friend and I join each other later - still in each others' bodies - and try out our new perspectives on each other. I know I'll take a good look at my cock to see how much she's abused it while she was alone. And I'll get down on my knees and suck her off. Then I'll know that THIS is what my cock tastes like and she'll know what it feels like to get a blow-job. And I'll have the incredibly unique situation where I can observe my body's reactions to a blow-job.

So... yeah... that's my bodyswap fantasy.

Some kinky sex toy reviews

2011-03-10T20:12:00.005Z

A friend and I recently bought some toys from the Love Honey website and spent a couple of days at a hotel in Glasgow testing them out. It was a fun weekend. I've posted reviews of some of the stuff we bought on the website, but for your edification, I thought I'd cut-and-paste them into here as well. I hope you enjoy reading them.

Bondage Boutique Studded Leather Neck to Wrist Cuffs

Sleek, stylish, subversive... and very comfortable:
I love this and plan to get a lot of wear out of it. The locking section is simple, but very effective - a metal D-ring that fits through grooves in the collar provides the perfect attachment for a padlock, thus ensuring it won't come off again until the person holding the key chooses to let you out.
The collar and wrist cuffs are very soft and can be worn comfortably for prolonged periods. The studs look cool and provide a further subversive edge.

It's effective and can provide complete restraint - there's no escaping from this thing. And it looks good, too. I plan on using it for a lot of photography sessions in the future.

Pros:
High quality material with an amazing look.

Cons:
If I'm going to be pedantic... perhaps the chains could be slightly longer.

Bottom line:
A beautiful bondage device that would grace any kinky bedroom.

The Tracey Cox supersex stroker

Hard to get to grips with:
This looked attractive. My first thoughts were about how sleek and elegant it looked - I could imagine it sitting on a shelf in plain sight without attracting undue attention. The material was soft and sleek - clearly very high quality.

The problem came when I actually tried to use it, though. It wasn't that it was uncomfortable - it was more like I couldn't really feel anything other than the impersonal sensations being transmitted through the material. I found I had to grip myself tighter and pump harder to get any kind of satisfaction at all. I'm sure it would work well on a lot of men, but I just couldn't get to grips with it.

I've experimented with different approaches, but ultimately it just keeps leaving me feel like I've wasted my time and I end up discarding it to concentrate on my hand instead.

Pros:
It looks attractive and intriguing. Highest quality material.

Cons:
It was clumsy and left me feeling disappointed.

Bottom line:
Impersonal and disappointing.

Tracey Cox Supersex Twin Silicone Vibrating Love Ring for Couples

Good for solo play as well:
It comes into its own when used by couples, but it can be enjoyed separately as well. The man can strap it on and enjoy the sensations, while the woman can play with it as a clitoral vibrator.
It's easy to get on with minimal fumbling. If you haven't waxed or landscaped in a while, you might get a couple of wince moments as hair gets trapped at that point, but that's only if you're particularly clumsy. It's fairly self-explanatory - just take a look at the picture and you'll know that the larger ring goes round the balls, while the smaller one goes round the shaft. It's stretchy, so once in place, it fits very snugly with no danger of cutting off blood supply or becoming uncomfortable.

The vibrator is surprisingly powerful for such a small device and the vibrations are definitely transmitted up the shaft or on to the clitoris if you're playing as a couple. I'm sure I'll bring it out from time to time when I'm on my own and use it as an aid to masturbation.

Pros:
It fits snugly and provides instant pleasure.

Cons:
I got used to it pretty quickly.

Bottom line:
It definitely provides an extra element of fun during playtime.

Love Honey silicone plug

A great starting toy:
Beyond the occasional finger-up-the-bumhole moment from the occasional adventurous girlfriend, I haven't really experimented too much with anal stimulation before now. So this felt like the perfect way to pop that particular cherry.

Its flexibility is a key feature, making it very comfortable and pleasant. That flexibility also makes it slightly difficult to insert, but once in I was confident it was going to stay in. I was able to walk with complete comfort, which made me confident enough to spend about three or four hours with it in place, providing a decadently subversive sensation to the afternoon. I was the only person who knew it was there at all.

I've never tried anything like this before and it was a bit of an impulse buy, so I'm glad I went for it. I've got every intention of trying for a full day - hopefully soon. Probably the next time I'm on a date with someone a bit kinky like myself.

Pros:
Very pleasant and comfortable. Non-threatening and easy to get used to.

Cons:
Its flexibility made it slightly difficult to "get to grips with".

Bottom Line:
A great way to pop that cherry.

Potent Lustball Remote Control 10 Function Egg

A great idea that doesn't fulfil its potential:
I had high hopes for this one. I dared my friend to insert it and let me have the remote control to play with while we took a walk in Glasgow and she agreed. Once inserted, though... it just didn't pick up any signals from the remote control.
This was exceptionally disappointing, because it was the main reason for buying it at all.

When it could get a clear signal from the remote control, we found that the vibrations were powerful and effective. It would have been a lot of fun. Just a shame it didn't live up to its full potential.

Pros:
Powerful vibrator with different settings.

Cons:
It didn't pick up signals from the remote control once inserted.

Bottom line:
Disappointing

A neater thatch

2011-03-09T12:18:00.000Z

I've been looking a bit unkempt at my classes just recently There's a reason for that, though. I recently agreed to be a model for a class about mens' intimate waxing and had to lay off the grooming for a couple of weeks.

The tutor was Kim Lawless. She's very famous and has featured on GMTV and now - having experienced one of her training sessions - I can see why. The class was fun and relaxed, but very informative.

It takes a genuine lack of self-consciousness to be a model for such a class and some of the stages are very undignified - but the results are amazing. I'm sure it won't be too narcissistic to say that I really like the way I look right now. I had anticipated everything coming off, but instead it was trimmed and landscaped and reduced down to just the thatch running from belly-button to lower abdomen.

So, today, I'm looking exceptionally neat and well groomed. In fact, I don't think my thatch has ever looked better. I'm definitely going to keep volunteering for these classes.

I feel slightly disappointed for everyone who hired me in recent weeks - but I never got the impression that anyone was particularly offended by the affro-bush, so I won't worry about it too much. And hopefully anyone who hires me for future hen nights will appreciate the new look.

One thing I definitely appreciated was the hands-on element of the class. Nobody was particularly shy, so any lingering element of self-consciousness that might have been around was put to rest, the moment the student started wiping my balls in preparation for the wax. Later, I had everything handled by her, by the other student and by Kim, so had to get used to that very quickly. At one point, when my cock was being stretched out to "1 o'clock" and "3 o'clock" there was some definite growth going on, but nobody seemed concerned by that, so I just relaxed and let it subside again. Later, after the various bits of waxing, the bits of stretching were more sensitive and therefore less pleasant - so less growth taking place.

Some bits of waxing were definitely more tender than others. I tried not to wince too much, but I always knew I was going to have to put up with some bits of pain. I was most intrigued by the very definite and very specific stages of the process, though. The underside of the scrotum, followed by the sides of it, followed by the sides and the top of the penis (starting at the root and going almost all the way up the shaft), followed by the circumference of the base of the shaft. Then a bit of "landscaping" at the sides of the thatch that remained and the edge of the hair on the legs.

Later, when I have some privacy at home, I'm going to have to get a shower to get rid of the remaining tacky bits, then take a proper look in a mirror. And then - because some people have asked for them - get some pictures taken.

Update:
I tried taking some pictures, but they just looked nasty, so I deleted them. Then I set up my iPhone in the bathroom while I was taking a shower and created this slideshow. It still doesn't work as a showcase for the waxing, but I thought it would be cool to post it anyway.

Perfection erection

2011-03-04T15:54:00.002Z

I've had the perfect erection all morning. It's been absolutely amazing.

I accepted a challenge recently - no masturbating or even touching myself unnecessarily for seventeen days. Well, I got about ten days (I think - I lost count) into the challenge, before I asked for a reprieve. I was allowed it. It will continue until tomorrow evening, but then I'll get a temporary break.

And this has been responsible for me walking around with a cock that's absolutely rock solid and throbbing all morning. Before I got out of bed, while I was checking emails on my laptop. Then, later, when I was in the shower. After that, when I was getting dressed and having to pull my boxers on over it. It's an absolutely pleasure to have such a perfect erection for so long - even if I can't actually do anything about it.

This, by the way, is going to make things a bit difficult this afternoon. I have a hen-night art-class scheduled for 4PM and although the girls at these events generally welcome an erection once they're settled down and relaxed, they're probably not going to be so comfortable if I start out hard. So I better think about other things before the tutor introduces me so that the swelling can go down. Of course... that's four hours away... so plenty of time for things to settle. And then spring into action again, the minute my exhibitionist tendencies are stimulated.

There were two reasons for asking for the reprieve, though...

First...
Next Wednesday - the 9th of May - I'm going to be volunteering as a model for a class on mens' intimate waxing. This pretty much means that the tutor will wax my pubic area completely, while her students observe. For an exhibitionist like me, that's going to be a major turn-on and I'm going to want to stroke the smooth areas afterwards. Under the terms of the challenge, however, that wouldn't be allowed, so having a wank later would definitely not be allowed.

Second...
A friend and I recently bought some sex toys and we would like to play with them on Saturday night. We've booked a hotel room for the weekend so we can have a laugh and relax into it. The toys include...

A Spartacus lace-up sheath

Leather neck-to-wrist cuffs

A vibrating love ring for couples

A sensation stroker

A remote control ten-function egg

I ordered that last one, later. My friend doesn't know about it yet. Now, she's seen me naked hundreds of times, but she's never really been inclined to reciprocate, so the chances of her accepting my challenging and letting me hold the remote control while she wears it when we go out for a drink are slim. But I'm going to give it a shot.

So... I was allowed the reprieve. The condition is that when I start the challenge again, I start it from day one. And I've offered to post pictures from the weekend. And some before-and-after pictures from the waxing class.

But fuck... I could really use a wank right now.

A quick update...
I got through the class with minimal fuss. In fact, this one was a lot of fun. The girls were very chilled out and seemed to enjoy themselves a lot. One of them gave me a hug, though. That's unusual - it doesn't often happen. I pulled back before I poked her in the stomach.

It might sound selfish, but...

2011-02-16T15:39:00.000Z

...but right now, what I really want is to get my cock sucked. I mean, that's not all I want, but it's the overriding desire of the moment. For days, now - for more than a week... I've had this intense desire to get sucked off.

I want to look down and see someone's head bobbing up and down, taking me in as much as she can. I want to see enthusiasm and desire for my cock. I want to see the shaft revealed as she slides up, then see it disappearing as she slides back down again and swallows it up. Technique isn't really that important in this scenario. It doesn't matter if she's great at sucking cock, because she won't be sucking it for long. I really just want to see her going at it with complete and unfeigned enthusiasm.

She's on her knees and I'm standing over her. I've got my fingers gripped loosely in her hair. I look down at her for a few moments, then throw my head back and groan, then pull on her hair and make her rise to her feet to kiss me.

After that, I'll fuck her. It won't be with great skill, but there's going to be urgency and eagerness. I'll bend her over something and fuck her doggy style and after I cum inside her, she'll get back on her knees, take me in her mouth once more and clean me up.

Then we'll lie together for a while. I might dose for half an hour or so. And when I wake up again - hard and ready for the next bit of fucking. Then I'll take my time and make sure she gets her turn.

Fisherman's friend

2011-02-16T11:49:00.000Z

Misfits is a great TV series. It just doesn't know how to be tasteful. The sexual references, the swearing, the religious profanity in the Christmas special, everything... it's a lot of fun to see a TV series be so full-on without making any concessions to the PC Brigade.

And in one episode, Nathan speaks about the powers of a Fisherman's Friend. Suck one and then go down on a woman - that was the gist of his advice. And I've been dying to try it out ever since. Sounds like a great variation on the old hot-and-cold-blow-job technique. Why should the guys get all the fun?

Do I have any volunteers?

Some of my favourite first kisses

2011-02-12T19:55:00.000Z

A question came up in mixed company. "You're with someone new. What's more exciting? The first blow-job or the first kiss?"

"That's easy," I answered. "The first kiss."

Everybody looked at me in complete surprise. I looked at them with the same amount of surprise. I didn't think I'd need to explain this one.

With the first kiss, you've got all this potential. First of all, you're excited, because you're kissing someone. But that's just the start. How much further can it go? You've got one hand in hair or on the back of her neck, just holding her. It's being a little bit controlling and a big bit sensual. The other hand is on her hip. What does that hand do? Should you pull her in close? But if you do, she's going to feel that you're hard. Is that a bad thing? Will she respond well to feeling your cock eager and responsive? Or will she be angry at the sleaziness of it? Suppose you do pull her against you and suppose she does respond well? What next? She's pressing against you. You get harder. Do you moan? Do you start to grind? Do you break the kiss, take her hand and start leading her somewhere more private?

The kiss is important. It's the best part. It's that playful moment that can mean so much - foreplay and the first part of sex - or so little - just a bit of fun. And even if it's just a bit of fun... even if it's just a tease... well, what's wrong with the tease?

I can kiss for a long, long time. I love to kiss. I think I'm a good kisser.

Some of my favourite first kisses...

Jenn

She was an artist and I was modelling for her. We talked for a long time and I was naked throughout. I lay on the floor, sat in a chair, lounged around... and all the time we talked and she drew me. I had never met her before, but we had talked on the internet and I had volunteered to model for her. At some point in our conversation, I started to suspect that she liked me and if I made a move on her, it would be well received. I wasn't sure, though. I was nervous.

She called for a break and went to leave the room for something. As she walked past me, I caught her arm. She turned towards me, looking surprised and I pulled her towards me and kissed her. She melted into me. We didn't kiss for long, but when we parted, she looked flustered. I was still naked and she instinctively looked down to see what kind of a response I'd had to the kiss.

She turned bright red, then hurried out of the room. While she was gone, I fretted a bit. Had that been too much? Apparently not. When she came back, she knew exactly what she wanted from me and we took a long time getting it.

Tanya

We had been playing a game of truth or dare in a pub near the Grassmarket for a while. It's an app I have on my 'phone that I sometimes use to break the ice with people. We concentrated mainly on truth, because the dares were too much for public spaces. Afterward, I started walking her back to her hostel, when I remembered that one of the dares had been about kissing; she had been dared to rate me on a scale of one to ten. She hadn't wanted to kiss me in the public pub, though. So I stopped walking suddenly and she turned back to me, looking surprised.

I never ask permission for a kiss. I don't think that's a good thing to do. I reached out, took both her hands and drew her back towards me. She didn't resist - she stepped forward and I drew her in. One hand on her hip, the other in her hair. I kissed her and our tongues started teasing each other almost right away. She pressed against me and felt my hardness.

We didn't go back to the hostel... we went back to my place, instead.

Alex

I was pretty sure I was going to be spending the night with this girl, but I wasn't sure. We had been drinking in a pub on the Royal Mile, then we'd moved on to Bannerman's on the Cowgate. As we left, we were walking towards the taxi rank and I still didn't know if she was going to go home without me or not. But we had talked about streaking at one point and so I paused at one of the dark closes on Niddrie Street, then stepped into it and started stripping out of my clothes. She watched me, all wide-eyed, then giggled as I stepped out of the close and ran up the street, past a couple of queues for nightclubs. People cheered and applauded, then I returned to the close.

She was waiting for me inside it, with my clothes. I stepped round the corner, out of sight of the street, then took her hand and pulled her towards me. As I kissed her, she grabbed hold of me with one hand and stroked me to full hardness.

We went back to her place together.

Pervert

2011-02-12T19:17:00.000Z

Or so I thought. But a worrying thing has recently occurred to me.

Occasionally I'll be on some website or other and I'll see a profile that I like. Perhaps the person has said something interesting, or used a cool turn of phrase. Or perhaps - in true deviant style - I'll just see that her picture is exceptionally hot and I'll get horny. And I'll take a closer look. And then I'll see the words "I don't like perverts". And I'll take that at face value and stay well away. Because I know that words like that are aimed at people like me.

OK... so far so good... but then, very occasionally, I'll become friends with someone else. A person who has said something interesting or used a cool turn of phrase, or has pictures that make me horny. I'll interact with that person and everything will be going well. But then, one day, I'll find - buried away in some random posting or other - that very same "I don't like perverts" statement somewhere among their postings. And I'll ask about it. And they'll tell me that I'm OK.

Which worries me. She doesn't consider me to be a pervert. I don't like that. Is my natural wit, charm and charisma carrying me through and overriding her pervert detection mechanism? Doesn't sound likely because, after all, I don't exactly have any wit, charm or charisma. So... what..?

Is it possible... could it be... that I'm less of a pervert than I think I am? Should I stop claiming to be a pervert? Perhaps I should be on some sort of register so that genuine perverts can identify me as the fake I clearly am and so ostracise me for their own safety and comfort.

I'm having an identity crisis, here. I don't know what to do about it. I need someone to reassure me that I'm a genuine pervert.

Qualities I appreciate in a lover

2011-02-10T17:39:00.000Z

Spontaneous
I love it when one of us can come up with an off-the-cuff plan and we can just run with it simply because it's fun.

Creative
I'm very creative myself, so would like a partner who will collaborate with me on various projects.

Funny
It might sound cliched, but it's fun to laugh.

Sexually adventurous
Yeah... or kinky. Someone who shares my kinks, but has a few of her own, too.

Strong willed
I have a tendency to be domineering without meaning to, so it's good to have someone who can stand up to me.

A friend
As opposed to a lover or a pal or a mate... a friend is something stronger than all of those.

Energetic
I have almost limitless energy, so it would be good if she could keep up with me.

Subversive
She'd need to be receptive to some of my more creative theories about what constitutes a good relationship.

Spartan
In the sense that I like to rough it, sometimes. Camping in the wilds, that sort of thing. Spa breaks and beaches are great, but sometimes it's good to get away from all the luxury.

Literate
If she reads a lot - and if we can talk about books (or talk about anything, really) then she's really going to have my attention.

32%

2011-02-10T09:00:00.000Z

I'm very disappointed. I took the 100 question purity test.

I thought I was much worse than this. I've let myself down. And worst of all, I've let my friends down. I know they were all relying on me to be the dirty, perverted deviant they always thought I was, and now I've failed them.

Anyway, I got this result...

"Pure? Sure, you're about as pure as yellow snow. You're a downright devil. But you're also a pretty delightful one!"

A dream of castration

2011-02-02T09:51:00.000Z

OK... is it still castration if everything is taken off or does that word just refer to the testicles being removed? Probably. But that's what this dream was about.

There were three women. I was standing up and had my hands tied behind my back. I was fully naked.

The strangest thing is that I didn't once protest or complain. In fact, despite my restraints, I can remember feeling fairly ambivalent. There was a strong sense of resentment, but I'm not sure what it was directed towards. Because if it was about the imminent chopping, then I can't imagine why I wouldn't have been struggling. There was a bit of tension, but nothing like you'd anticipate.

The girls never once spoke to me. It seemed like I was objectified to a strong extent.

One of them was standing in front of me, sharpening a meat cleaver; she seemed to be all business-like and I get the impression she'd done this before. Another seemed to be pretty new to the whole thing; she was very excited and giggly. And the third seemed to be in charge; she was dictating the process.

The one in charge told the giggly one to get me ready, so she took hold of me and worked me to get me hard. She laughed about how I was responding (and that made me embarrassed rather than scared - I didn't want to get an erection against my will). Then she took hold of my balls and drew them forward, so she was holding me with both hands. Cock in one hand and balls held in place with the fingertips of the other. Then she kept hold of me and held me out to provide a good target, while the one who had been sharpening the meat cleaver took a couple of practice swings. Although she never looked at me directly, she was making it clear to me that this was going to be one single, downward slice. Then she stepped forward... and thankfully, that's as much as I can remember.

Now, that's where I don't seem to follow the standard protocol for nightmares. I don't wake up in cold sweats or anything like that. The nightmare just seems to fade away a bit and I keep sleeping. Then, later in the day, I start remembering some of the details and gradually start filling bits and pieces in. I can never remember them with complete clarity. Just parts of them and some of the emotional charge. And although some of the details (castration) will automatically set them into the category of nightmares, they don't often seem to be all that scary.

The other overwhelming sensation I'm left with is the feeling of the giggly girl's hand. Her fingers kept working at me right up to the end. I'm not sure whether that was to keep me hard and so provide a better target for the cleaver, or so that right up until the cut, it would actually feel pleasant. For some reason that resonates, to be honest. Like a real psychological head-fuck, as if the chop wasn't enough - there had to be even more going on. Also... it's interesting to note that it's the giggly girl that I remember most clearly. She's not completely clear, but I do remember her as being a bit sexy. She was wearing a tight top, showing a lot of cleavage and had erect nipples. The other two seemed business-like and efficient, but she was getting off on it - and she was definitely taunting me.

Also... this wasn't really castration. This was both the cock and the balls. So... complete emasculation? And was this reinforced by the way the giggly girl flaunted herself and took control of my cock? I don't know, but it's left me with a definite sense of disquiet over the last few days.

Suddenly left handed

2011-01-27T07:06:00.000Z

I can't believe I only just thought of this...

Tomorrow afternoon, I'm getting some very minor surgery. OK... that term is probably a bit melodramatic, given the circumstances. The appointment letter describes it as "UltraSound Guided injection shoulder Rt." So basically a needle with the ultrasound guiding it to the right spot. It's intended to break down some calcification in my supraspinatus - the legacy of a car accident I had in 2009.

The thing that's just occurred to me..? It's my right arm. My right shoulder. The part of my body where all the movement of that arm stems from. And it's the arm that does all my favourite things. And if this process works... if the calcification is reabsorbed successfully... then I'm going to experience a few months of great pain. I've been warned about this. Exceptional pain, in fact. Which means that my right arm is likely to be out of commission for a while. Maybe not for everything, but definitely for the more high energy pursuits I usually use it for.

So, three options...

Start using the clumsy left hand.
Cut out the high energy pursuits.
Just deal with the pain.

I better make the most of it tonight.

A darker photoshoot

2011-01-20T23:30:00.010Z

I worked with my friend Janette today, for the first time since 2009. She produced a couple of gas masks and we thought we could have some fun with them. What's surprising to me is just how amiable and friendly I look in a couple of the pictures - despite the dehumanising and alienating effect you'd expect to get from a gas mask.

A new modelling event

2011-01-12T22:24:00.004Z

Eighty two pictures

2010-12-20T21:51:00.001Z

I've spent a large chunk of the afternoon on this. 82 pictures, selected from a photoshoot I did a couple of years ago with a friend. I've been pleased to discover that a lot of them are actually better (and have a higher resolution) than I thought. Which meant that I stepped up my plans to more ambitious levels. Maybe tomorrow, when I've had a chance to sleep, I'll return to my previous thoughts of just creating a couple of montages of selected images.

Now, though... if I can get this to work... here's what I created today.

The "Noisy Rain" magazine

2010-12-15T17:06:00.006Z

A few days ago, I was invited to join the "Noisy rain" magazine group on my RedBubble site. It's an online magazine for gay photographers and photographers who are gay-friendly. A group based on male nude erotica. And since a lot of my art is going to be of more interest to homosexual men than heterosuxual women, it made a lot of sense for me to join. I can easily see the homoerotic vibe going on, even if it wasn't something I deliberately created. I suppose that since I'm a guy and work with male nudes, then even if the model is me, then the visual stimuli will become homoerotic by default. I could explore that concept in detail, but I'll leave it undefined for now.

Anyway, I was asked to submit my own favourite images to the group at a rate of three per day, and if any of them were featured, I would earn an invitation to submit four images to the magazine itself. I got my first feature today, and wasted no time. I've already submitted my chosen images. And since the magazine doesn't have the same restrictions on erections and masturbation that the RedBubble site has, I was a bit more creative in my chosen images. I've chosen these ones...

And now I'm already wondering if I picked out the best ones. I certainly hope so.

RedBubble

2010-12-14T18:41:00.000Z

Self-examination

2010-12-13T00:13:00.001Z

A little over ten years ago, I found a lump on the right one. A quick check-up at the doctors set my mind at ease. It was nothing to be worried about. It's got a bit bigger over the years. Big enough that I sometimes (when I think about it) warn those people that might get close enough to discover it by themselves.

Last year, I found a new lump on the right one. This time, the doctor's appointment apparently wasn't enough to to provide the all-clear, so I was sent for an ultra-sound.

This picture makes me think of those times. There's no sense of fear in the picture, but that's fine because I never really felt all that concerned, anyway. I always kind of knew that there was nothing to worry about. Probably because I always thought that obvious conclusion was too melodramatic to be taken seriously.

I still went through some hypothetical scenarios, though - it was impossible not to. What if I had to lose one of them? I'd listen to what the doctor had to tell me and come to a decision based on what I was told. What if I had to lose both? Well... that just wasn't going to be an option.

So... all the hypothesising ultimately came to nothing. Thankfully.

To be honest, though... I should probably find out about getting them removed, because they make checking for real lumps a bit troublesome. Now I have to remember roughly where they are and keep them in mind whenever I do a self-examination. And then I have to decide if what I've just felt is an old one or a new one. Not as easy as it sounds.

Old pictures revisited

2010-12-09T16:52:00.002Z

These were both taken last year. It was during my first ever hen night and before the girls arrived, I got the tutor to take some pictures of me. I had the usual problem with them, though - a particularly shit camera. And so, I did the usual thing with them. I shelved them and didn't take another look until I got so desperate for something to work on that I dragged them back out again to see if I could salvage anything. And since I haven't done any modelling in at least a couple of weeks, I've become very keen on finding something I could do some work on.

It's amazing what you can get away with if you just keep cranking up the contrast and adjusting the lighting and colouring.

The Cramond Island project (Part Two)

2010-12-03T17:23:00.000Z

On the 3rd of September this year, I went to Cramond Island. with a girl called Lucy and we took some pictures. I wasn't very happy with them, though, so returned to them earlier today and edited them a little. Not by much... just enough to adjust the lighting, take out the colours and make them look a bit warmer. I processed every single one of them identically, to try to make them look like they have a cohesive look.

Nude calendars - A shameless attempt to sell my pictures

2010-11-27T00:56:00.001Z

I've compiled some of my work into a series of calendars. I'm working on creating more, but I wanted to share some of them here.

Go on. Buy one of them. They'll brighten up your living room and you'll really cheer me up. You'll make me start to feel like a proper artist at last.

Cramond is available at http://www.redbubble.com/products/configure/6075288-calendar.

Frankfurt is available at http://www.redbubble.com/products/configure/6344478-calendar.

Domestic harmony is available at http://www.redbubble.com/products/configure/6344326-calendar.

Chastity (Or "A very stupid idea")

2010-11-21T01:28:00.000Z

So I was sitting around and thinking about sex a lot. I had been feeling really horny, so was tempted to go off somewhere and masturbate. But I had also been hoping to get invited to play with two people I've been speaking to recently, so I didn't want to waste the orgasm on a quick wank.

In the end, I didn't get the hoped for invitation, but because I'd been feeling so horny, my mind was in the gutter - a place it really enjoys hanging around in. I discovered a forum about erections and joined it, then wrote and posted a couple of thoughts on the subject. And I still really wanted a wank. I was getting hornier all the time.

And then I had some privacy and I knew the invitation to play wasn't going to come tonight, so there was no harm in that bit of seed being pumped onto my stomach, instead of the warm mouth of someone else. But by this point, I'd started having thoughts about new things to write about, or new pictures to create. And I wanted to create a new photographic project.

It didn't seem like a particularly smart idea. But it also didn't seem like an overwhelmingly stupid one. I thought it would work.

I took out my Prince Albert and replaced it with a padlock. It took a moment or two to put the padlock into place, because it was a bit tender, but I managed it. And then I took loads of pictures. I knew that I'd end up deleting most of them because they wouldn't be up to my standards, so I took as many as possible - or at least as many as I could stand. This padlock was heavy and I was reluctant to move around too much.

Finally, after 74 pictures, I settled down and tried to remove the padlock. It wouldn't come out. Shit. You know that little bit... the groove for the locking mechanism to slot into? Well, that was the problem. I could get most of the bar to slide out, but the groove was stuck. And it was really starting to hurt.

I wasn't ready to panic yet, but it was definitely causing me some concern. After about ten minutes or so, I decided that perhaps if I got hard, then the piercing would enlarge and the padlock would come out easier. That didn't work, though. Mostly because - for the first time tonight - I really didn't feel up to getting a hard-on. Just manipulating my cock was hurting it, in fact. With some perseverence I managed it, though. But no, it still wasn't helping.

I eventually had to grit my teeth and just take the pain. After about forty minutes of sweating and contemplating a trip to casualty (although I suspect they might have sent me to somewhere with power tools) I managed to push the padlock out. It slipped out suddenly and unexpectedly and I heaved a deep sigh of relief, then started uploading the pictures onto my laptop.

Sure enough, I deleted most of them immediately. Then picked out a favourite (or the least shit one) and started messing with it in PhotoShop. And this is the result.

Gay sauna

2010-11-18T06:24:00.000Z

Last day in Berlin and we changed hotels. I helped Lucy move into the new one. A really cool place that's full of homoerotic pictures of shiny, muscular men in creative poses. It wasn't a surprise when Lucy told me it was a gay hotel, although the guy at the help desk wore a very helpful t-shirt with the slogan "hetero-friendly" on it.

To be honest, I loved the place. I thought it was really cool. The gay photographs aside, I really thought the decor was great. Mirrors and black walls all throughout the corridors.

When we got to the room, I idly flicked through a brochure, while Lucy was busy settling in and I noticed that there was a sauna on the roof. The temptation was irresistible. I had no trunks with me, but a quick call down to reception confirmed that nudity was fine in a German gay sauna (big surprise) so we got changed into robes and headed up there.

There was a jacuzzi, but it was right out on the roof. It looked pretty inviting with the steam rising from it, but a quick step outside reminded us just how cold it really was and the water turned out to be barely warm. But we're hardy folks and we plunged in, anyway.

I took my iPhone along with me and we got started on taking some pictures. They were daring pictures. Not because we were both naked (nobody would believe that was particularl daring of me, anyway). Not because there were apartments with a great view of the place in all directions. It was because it was fucking cold - I might have mentioned that already. The water might have been barely warm, but when we were in it kept us from contracting hypothermia and was even almost comfortable. But we would take it in turns to step out of the water for the benefit of each others' photographic skills.

These pictures aren't from the jacuzzi... I haven't uploaded any of those, yet. They're from the sauna. And that was much more comfortable.

Can you feel it?

2010-11-17T05:52:00.000Z

This was me being a bit subversive. I'm a member of a site called RedBubble and about a year ago, I got into trouble from them when they removed a lot of my pictures because they featured erections. I had been under the impression until then that these would be fine if I ticked the "NSFW" button and got them filtered out by people who were of a sensitive disposition.

Well, a couple of days ago, I added this picture - a montage of four other pictures that were taken in a hotel corridor in Berlin. This is me cheating a bit. Because I'm not sure that these qualify as erections. There's no denying I'm a bit hard, but... I don't know... I might just about get away with it.

I got even more daring, because after I uploaded the picture, I submitted it to various groups within the site. And so far, all of them have accepted it. Which makes them complicit with the bending of the rules. They've all taken a look at the picture and decided that they can cope with its inclusion into their groups. Of course, they won't get into trouble if the picture gets removed, so that's easy to do. But the fact remains that they're all tacitly acknowledging they're cool with it. I wonder if they're going to sit back and wait to see what happens.

Domestic harmony (Or "How to make the laundry more fun")

2010-11-16T20:08:00.000Z

These pictures were taken just a few hours ago.

We discovered the laundry room in the hotel after we'd been here a day or so. Funny thing is, it took me until today before I considered the photography potential this room had. So I talked Lucy into taking her camera along.

Now, I didn't want to put on a clean t-shirt until I'd had a shower and I didn't want to have a shower and then wear dirty clothes. So the best way to do this was to take clean clothes along with me, but leave the t-shirt behind. So I put on yesterday's dirty clothes and took along a clean pair of jeans, boxers and socks.

The rest is pure cliche. I loaded up the machine, took off all the clothes I was wearing and added them to the machine. Posed for a couple of pictures with the handy iron. Put on the clean clothes, put my jacket on top and left. We didn't have long, so we couldn't really play around and take loads of pictures, but we got enough that I could make up this series of pictures.

I love these boxers. They really flatter me a lot. At some point in a nude photoshoot they really have to come off, though...

OK... so the cliche is taken care of and all the clothes I was wearing are now in the machine and getting washed. If we'd had the time (and the courage) we might have hung around the laundry room for the next couple of hours, while I completed the logic and waited for those same clothes to be washed and dried. Sadly, that wasn't an option, so why not do some ironing and make the "public" nudity last that little bit longer..?

And finally, time to start getting dressed once again. I really hate this part of any photoshoot.

I think some people in the hotel must think I'm very weird, now. They never saw me naked, but they did see me with a heavy jacket zipped right up to the neck. I'm not sure what they might have made of that.

Potsdam

2010-11-16T07:52:00.004Z

I commented a couple of times yesterday, that some of the streets in Berlin were perfect for some nude photography. Not the main thoroughfares, but the alleys on the quieter streets. With the graffiti and the urban decay, I just felt that a bit of nudity would be an amazing contrast. Sadly, I wasn't able to persuade Lucy that this was the case, so we never took any nudes. But then, unexpectedly, while we were on the grounds of this beautiful church in Potsdam, she suggested I get naked.

I kept my boxers on at first and we found a convenient dip in the ground. After a while, I stripped off the boxers at first, when we got more confident about the situation. It wasn't long after that, before we started being seen. Though it didn't seem too bad, because the onlookers were at a bit of a distance, so we just carried on.

Whenever I've been seen in the UK, people have whistled or cheered, but the people in Germany seem to be more polite. They stopped and watched, took some pictures of their own, but did nothing to intrude or cause a fuss. They can't be seen in any of our pictures, but they were watching from the corridor with the columns.

And finally, time to get dressed. I thought it was kind of fun to be modelling here, so I was disappointed (as I always am) to bring the shoot to an end, but I also felt we'd kind of pushed our luck a bit. Nobody had seen me naked up close (although one man saw me in my boxers and suggested that it might be took cold to swim) so it went well. It's one thing to have them watch me from a distance where they can have a bit of a laugh and take some pictures without getting too close, but people can potentially be a lot less happy when they see me in close quarters. That's a theory, anyway. So far it's yet to be proven. In all honesty, I've never yet been seen by anyone who appeared to be annoyed or upset.

There's a valve

2010-11-08T02:40:00.000Z

I love to subvert things. Especially if I'm backed into something that I don't agree with or I'm shoved into an environment that I don't want to be a part of. Especially if I'm being preached at, condescended towards or patronised. Now, I think subversion is smart - you can't be a subversive without having a minimal level of intelligence. So this is going to be a story of how I was subversive - therefore intelligent - therefore smart - therefore sexy. Or something.

There are also other moments in there - the sort of "Tourette's moments" that I've become known for among my family and friends. Now, I suspect that they're the opposite of smart, but I'll include those moments as well. The thing is, there's a valve that other people have and it works perfectly on most of them. On me, it's kind of faulty. It means I have a tendency to speak before I edit or censor my words.

You can call it sensitivity, if you like. I don't have much of that.

Anyway, there was this one time - about fifteen years back - when I was invited to participate in a team-building project. A friend of mine - Josh - would be going along, too. We would be putting a group of people through various team-building exercises. That's how it was described to me. I and a friend were going to get a free weekend at Bonskeid House near Pitlochry. A beautiful part of the country. Now, we'd been to the house before, as part of other projects, but this time we were actually staying inside the house. We were truly privileged.

We also got a lift there. John Knox - the actual director of the YMCA in Edinburgh - personally drove us up. Now, it always amuses me that he has the same name as one of the more interesting names in Scottish religious history, but at least our John Knox tended to be more amiable and personable.

Thing is... on the way to Pitlochry, Knox started dropping a couple of the details about the weekend. And it didn't sound like the same weekend that had been described to Josh and I. I distinctly remember the moment where we exchanged confused, concerned looks with each other in the back seat of Knox's car, when he started talking about his daughter Kerry's "spiritual agenda" for the weekend.

We got to Bonskeid House without incident, Knox and his wife wandered off in search of Kerry (their daughter) and we were left alone. We wandered off and realised that there was at least one other group there and they were intermingling. One large woman shambled up to me, with a vacant smile and name badge on her right tit that identified her as Bernard. She thrust a hand at me and said "'Allo. You with our lot, then?" I shook her hand, but before I could even think about how offensive it was, I said "Oh, fuck, I hope not." She gave me a bewildered smile and wandered off.

Now, I was really embarrassed at myself with that one. It was a supreme lack of tact, and it was actually offensive. The poor woman had done nothing to merit that kind of abusive response, but the words were out before I had a chance to retract them. She must have been with the other group though, because I never saw her again that weekend. On the other hand, she might have gone home in a puff of rejection.

I found Josh outside, chain-smoking and babbling about seed pods. It took a while to get sense out of him, but eventually I realised it was an Invasion of the body-snatchers reference. If there were seed pods under the bed, he wasn't sleeping that night. He insisted that these religious groups got you this way. They took you away, indoctrinated you and sent you back home as a pod person, trying to convert everybody else.

We went inside and found Knox's study. I stood guard at the door, while Josh went inside and found his agenda for the weekend. It was interesting that this event was apparently Kerry's, but Knox was directing it - I was curious about that detail. Josh picked up the book and started reading out.

"Prayer - Religious thought for the day - Prayer - Spiritual thought for the day - Prayer - Guided meditation..."

"Shut up. You're making that up."

"I'm not, it's right here."

I was laughing by now. Josh was really agitated, and it was kind of funny. But I also was sure that he was exaggerating this. He insisted though, so I abandoned my post (a cardinal sin, in his eyes), crossed the room and took the agenda from him. He swore at me and ran to the door to stand guard, while I read the agenda and confirmed that he had actually been telling the truth. Fuck. It was worse than I thought.

We pooled our resources to see how much money we had. Not enough for two train tickets home. Not even enough for two bus tickets. And there would still have been the matter of the hike from Bonskeid House into Pitlochry anyway. Not that I was all that bothered. I was still curious about how much worse (entertaining) the weekend could get.

We claimed a room that we didn't have to share with anyone else, then spent the rest of that night talking to posh student types and getting to know the people we were spending the weekend with. I'm bigoted, I know, but I didn't like any of them. They were in a different social class to us and we felt like we were being pandered to by them. That night we ate well, then slept in comfortable beds and the following morning, we got up and joined everyone for breakfast - and I had the second Tourette's moment.

At that time I had been doing a lot of voluntary work for an organisation called Tangents. I was educating young people about AIDS, HIV and drug use. So when a Californian woman who was sharing my table asked me, I told her. I didn't pick up on the waves of disapproval that started radiating out from her as soon as I said this. She asked a couple of questions, to find out if I was taking the correct "drugs are bad" tone, but I said that Tangents weren't that black and white. I said they acknowledged that people were going to take drugs and have sex, and so they educated young people on the best ways to minimise the risk to themselves. Their whole attitude was that you could have a lot of fun out of drugs, but they should be treated with respect. And you could have a shitload of fun with sex, but... well, I could go into detail about how cool the workshops were, but it'd take too long. Suffice it to say, that on one occasion I was sent to Shetland where I was giving out free condoms to kids at a rave.

The Californian woman took a moment to share her idealised vision of how the world would be if people just had stronger moral fibre. The only sexual contact that should be permitted - at all - would be within the confines of marriage. Now, I swear that I didn't intend to offend her, here. I just appreciated that she'd shared her vision and mine was a bit of a contrast to hers, so I thought I would reciprocate. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josh wincing even before I started to speak.

I said "In my ideal world, venereal diseases would be non-existent, pregnancy would be easier to avoid and people would be shagging like rabbits - guilt free and consequence free."

That was effectively the end of that conversation.

Later, we had the first prayer meeting and in a fit of rebellion, Josh and I refused to join in. We all sat in a large room, spread out round a coal fire. Very cosy. The lucky ones had arm chairs, but most of us were sitting on the floor. When everybody started praying, Josh and I were left looking bemusedly at each other across a room full of bowed heads. And then we started to snigger. It was really bad. We didn't want to be quite so blatant as that, but we couldn't help it. The heads stayed bowed, the prayers kept going and we tried to stifle our humour, but we just couldn't. Occasionally we'd get a bit of self-control, but then we'd glance at each other and it would start all over again. Eventually the praying stopped and everybody tried to pretend that we hadn't just pissed all over their moment. Again, I felt bad about it. But not too bad. I hadn't forgotten that we'd been conned into this weekend.

The religious thought for the day consisted of everybody sitting on the floor in a big circle while a hat was passed round with bits of paper. Everybody had to pick a piece of paper, read the biblical quote on it and give their interpretation of what it meant. Josh asked to be excused, but was politely told that everybody had to participate. So we took our pieces of paper and awaited our turns. When it got to Josh, he read it out, pretended to think for a moment, then said he couldn't think of anything to say. This didn't go down well, but the next person read his quote and spent five minutes enthusing about how great it was that somebody had a vision on the road to Damascus. Or something. When it got to me, I had been waiting eagerly for what felt like hours.

"You were always in my sight," I read out. Then I started asking why it was in past tense. That provoked a debate. More than one person tried to insist that I was taking it too literally, but I was having far too much fun with this one and spent as long as I could possibly get away with it on that subject. I really got into the fact that it seemed like I was no longer in the sight of whoever it was that had spoken and I speculated at great length on what the implications of that could be. Surprisingly, nobody knew the context of the quote, so nobody was able to conclusively give me a reason for the specific wording, so I got away with it. I would guess, however, that the words were spoken by God to someone who had just died and was standing before him - hence the past tense. But that's just a guess. I never cared enough to find out.

Eventually, the weekend concluded with a sort of analysis on how well it had gone. Everybody gathered round the fire and spent half an hour or so patting themselves on the backs and congratulating each other about all the progress they'd made, but nobody seemed able to quantify the nature of that progress. Josh and I sat and listened.

And then someone said something that really pissed me off. "Maybe we should ask our new blood what they thought of it?"

New blood. They had extended their charity and their kind attention to us and they had automatically assumed that we were going to accept it. There are people who believe that there is no longer a class system in the UK, but that's not true. It's still there, alive and strong - and I think the greatest animosities occur between the middle classes (the posh student types) and the lower classes (the workers and the unemployed). And these prejudices were causing some teeth to grind on this particular weekend. I'm not proud of them, but I can say they're not without merit. I've had my experiences and my encounters and the response can vary from amused contempt to an almost militant rage. And the assumption that we were going to join their pathetic little group - despite us offering no inclination to do so in the entire weekend - really irritated me.

So I told them they had nothing to offer us. I said I had no interest in their message. I asked them what progress they'd made that they'd been so pleased with. I pointed out that theyd made frequent references to a recruitment strategy, but had not come up with one realistic plan. And I told them that they came across as smug, self-righteous, arrogant, privileged and clueless - and so would most likely alienate anyone they tried to recruit, anyway.

This was the one time in the whole weekend that I actually deliberately set out to be offensive, rather than just fall into it naturally. And it was the one time it didn't work. They all listened very politely and then - when I had finished talking - they nodded and actually agreed that I had made some very valid points. And they invited me to come back to the next meeting the following month so I could elaborate on them and help them amend their strategy.

When Josh and I got back into Edinburgh, we pooled our resources once more, bought beer and went back to my flat.

I've never been back to Bonskeid House since then. I've met Kerry Knox a couple of times, though - I worked alongside her for a while. She's a very nice person, and I've actually felt a bit bad about how I handled that weekend. If she remembers me, though (and I'm sure she does) she's been far too polite to mention it.

The bad man

2010-11-03T19:17:00.000Z

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Photography: Anne
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Music: Stack O'Lee by Mississippi John Hurt

Another attempt at adding some video. As usual, it needs a bit of tweaking. I'll get this perfected, sooner or later. In the meantimg... here's a preview.

The Frankfurt shower video sequence

2010-11-03T18:48:00.000Z

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Photography: Lucy
Model: G. Farquhar
Digital editing: G. Farquhar
Music: Salute your salution by The Raconteurs

I created this earlier, today. It's sort of a companion piece to The Frankfurt shower sequence.

Self portraits

2010-11-02T12:57:00.000Z

I just got talking to someone about self-portraits and I thought I'd share some of my own. It's very difficult to get one that I think is worth posting, so I thought I'd trawl through my archives and see what I came up with. Here are the (variable) results.

Random pictures

2010-11-01T15:56:00.000Z

Addicted to the buzz

2010-10-31T10:10:00.000Z

Two versions of this one. I'm curious to see if anyone has any preferences. And if those preferences are the same as mine.

The ghost pictures

2010-10-30T11:05:00.000+01:00

After creating the floral camouflage pictures, I experimented further and created these ones as well. I'm still not 100% satisfied with the results, but I'm still working on them.

Floral camouflage

2010-10-27T11:01:00.000+01:00

I stumbled across a cool digital effect earlier recently, completely by accident. And that led to me putting a lot of hours in on these images.

I haven't perfected them, to be honest. There are definitely areas where they could be improved. But I'm pleased with the potential I have for getting better results if I stick at it.

I like to take control too, sometimes

2010-10-23T10:51:00.000+01:00

We were having a bit of a tussle going on. Nothing overly dramatic. Just rolling around on the bed, playing with each other a bit. Wrestling. Messing around.

We were both naked, but by then we were almost always naked when it was just the two of us together. When there was no chance of us being disturbed or interrupted by other people. Every night and every day was a feast of naked flesh – sometimes innocent and casual, sometimes sordid, wanton and sexually charged. This started out one way and quickly became another.

The change came as we rolled about the bed. I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, then leaned down for a kiss. She freed one hand and moved it down to the side of my face, but I grabbed her wrist and returned it, with slightly more emphasis this time. I didn’t say anything about her transgression, yet.

I leaned in again, and she squirmed slightly. She was still trying to free her wrists, but now I was becoming more detemined. With a bit of fumbling, I managed to pin both her wrists with one of my hands, then drew my other hand down her body to demonstrate to her just how much I could do to her – and how little she could do to stop me. She closed her eyes, so I gripped her hair and then moved my face in close to hers. She opened her eyes again and looked at me. I moved in for a kiss once more, and this time she moved her mouth to respond… but this time I pulled back and smiled at her.

She moaned softly, so I did it again. I moved my mouth close to hers, then pulled back every time she tried to kiss me. After a while, she seemed to realise what I wanted and she kept still. I moved in, and this time I kissed her softly on the lips.

Still holding her hands, I moved to kneel astride her. My cock was still a little spent from our earlier games, but was starting to wake up again, now. I smiled as it dragged heavily across her stomach because I knew she could feel it and I knew she would be very aware of what its weight implied. She pulled a hand free once more, and it immediately shot out to close round my shaft. I sighed and allowed her a few seconds of gentle pumping and squeezing, then pulled myself free.

I stood up and drew her to her feet in front of me, then took her by the hair once more and steered her to the middle of room. She didn’t protest, but now when I looked in her eyes I could see them burning with lust. She was seriously getting turned on. I took her by the shoulders and turned her round, then took her wrists and – very pointedly – placed her hands at the back of her head. She understood what was expected of her and laced her fingers together.

Now I stood back and looked at her. I couldn’t help wondering if she was more conscious of her nudity, now. We were both naked, but was there now a power imbalance implicit in this? I hoped so, and I reached round to take hold of one of her breasts, then pulled her body hard against mine. My cock – fully hard, now – pressed upwards against her back. I bit her shoulder.

I walked all round her. Suddenly I felt much more predatory, more sinuous, more lithe and I wondered if this was some unrealistic and ideal self-image. Either way, she was looking smaller, now. More vulnerable. I looked close into her face, then cupped her jaw in my hand and tilted her head from side to side. She accepted this silently, then gasped as I slipped a finger inside her pussy. She was incredibly wet. My cock twitched in sympathetic response. She felt it nudge her thigh and couldn’t quite suppress a slight smile. I stood back and studied her silently, for a moment. She watched me and waited to see what I would do next.

In the end, it was inevitable. For all my attempts at self-control, there was really only one way I could respond to this situation, and that was by fucking her. By leading her over to the bed, bending her over and burying my cock as deep into her hot, wet pussy as I possibly could. It slid in easily and smoothly, like we were built for each other. A lock and a key, sliding together over and over again. I couldn’t believe how well I fit her perfect body, but right at that moment I felt like I could have rejoiced in the fit for hours on end.

When we lay together, shortly afterwards, basking in the afterglow, I reflected that our time together was short and fleeting. She would return to Edinburgh and she would continue her travels before, inevitably returning to Beijing. In the meantime, however, we were making sure we were draining every last drop of carnal pleasure from the very few days we had together.

Naked in Germany

2010-10-21T11:49:00.000+01:00

Some more pictures from Germany. All barring the top one were taken in a rock-themed hotel - we had a room on the 1970s floor. Not the same kind of cohesive look that was available in the Frankfurt shower sequence, but I like them.

The Frankfurt shower sequence

2010-10-16T11:35:00.000+01:00

These pictures were taken recently, in a hotel in Frankfurt. I thought it would be most interesting to put every one of them through the same Photoshop processing. I wanted them all to have a matching look.

Not punishment

2010-10-10T10:10:00.000+01:00

"This is going to hurt," she said.

"Take your clothes off," she said.

"Lie down on the bed," she said.

She began to spank me. Hard. These weren't just playful swats meant to turn me on or be used as some sort of kinky game or foreplay technique. This was proper, full-on spanking.

"You're not going to enjoy this," she said. "But we both know you need it."

She spanked me until I asked her to stop.

She spanked me until I started to beg.

She spanked me until I actually started to cry.

Later, as we lay together and she cuddled me, she said "That wasn't punishment. That was discipline."

The penis measuring postcard

2010-10-06T19:21:00.000+01:00

I saw a card in Frankfurt today, and I'm thinking of introducing it to my CFNM events. It's got a hole for sticking a penis through. The idea then is to hold the card by the top so the hard cock rests on the bottom. There are measurements with little comments in German. Now, that might sound pointless when I do this in the UK, but I think the fact that the comments need to be translated will just make them funnier.

The other cool thing about this is that it measures girth rather than the more traditional length. And girth is, apparently, more important when it comes to causing pleasure. Now, I know I have the length, but how do I shape up in girth?

Well, I measured in at midway between "Wird langsam kritisch..." and "Gut geübt!", which isn't the best but it's two thirds of the way up the scale. It's the only one with an exclamation mark, too - so that has to count for something.

Anyway... just to be complete, the comments are...

Size does matter (And I'm not sure why that bit was in English)
Wird langsam kritisch...
Gut geübt!
Es kommt nicht auf große an
Bleib besser single
Zeit, was zu tun...
Hier auflegen...

These translate as...

Size does matter (That one wasn't exactly difficult)
Becomes slowly critical...
Good practice
It is not great at all
Remain better single
Time to do which...
Here lay...

So, this does tend to reinforce two commonly held beliefs... the Germans are very demanding people and their sense of humour is a bit... well, let's go with surreal. In the meantime, I have to decide whether I'm happier at describing myself as "slowly critical" or "good practice".

Body art projects

2010-10-05T11:22:00.000+01:00

I've wanted to do that for a while, now. And I've had a few different ideas on the subject.

There's the standard thought - just get painted up and take loads of pictures. But I like the thought of the process being photographed as well. The paint being applied, the whole lot. It could be applied artistically, or it could be much messier than that - great gobs of paint being clarted everywhere. This is a job that should be a lot of fun where you just really cut loose.

But today, I watched the latest episode of "An idiot abroad" and there was this great moment where Karl Pilkington stumbles into an environment where people are gleefully throwing paint powder all over him and drenching him with water. It looked amazing. Now, I'm not completely clued up on India's nudity taboos, but they seem pretty relaxed when it comes to holy men and I can't help wondering whether they'd be so tolerant about casual nudity in other environments. However, if I'd been there and had some friends with cameras around, I would have definitely taken the opportunity to find out if I could strip off and participate.

I'm picturing the scene right now. Different colours of paint flying everywhere and water being thrown all over the place - and me, naked in the midst of it all. In my head it seems so vibrant and dynamic and energetic. I really want to get involved.

And it led me to think of another approach again. I want to have a flat somewhere in the centre of Edinburgh with two rooms. And I want one room to be a sort of studio where I don't care what kind of mess gets made. Now, that's standard - I've wanted that for a long time, but the art project is kind of dependant on that...

I want to get tubes of different colours of paint and to enlist the help of some people who would like to be involoved. They can wear old clothes or they can go naked as well, if they like. And I'd have at least one other person present with a camera each, taking pictures of the whole event. So - paint being squirted everywhere, hands smearing it all over the place, all that sort of thing. I really need to work on this project. I think it could have the potential to make some great pictures.

Caught masturbating Part One - Hotels

2010-09-29T10:03:00.000+01:00

Another time I got caught was when a friend and I were visiting Manchester. We shared a room, because it was cheaper that way.

At one point, she went for a massage and I was left to my own devices for a while. Having shared a room with her for a couple of nights, I hadn't been able to get my usual "wank fix", so I decided I'd make the most of the opportunity. I returned to our room and settled down for some time to myself.

Now, the room wasn't great, so the plug sockets weren't positioned particularly well. And the laptop I had at the time needed to be plugged in all the time. So the best place to use it was sitting at the foot of my friend's bed, so I had some support.

I misjudged the time, though. I was reading stories on Literotica and I had been playing with myself for ages - just slowly pumping my cock and enjoying the moment, rather than chasing down the orgasm. And when the door opened, I was so focussed on what I was doing and what I was reading, that my friend had to say my name to get my attention. I looked up and to my left and she was standing there in the doorway, with an absolutely perfect view. I'm right-handed, so even my arm wasn't concealing anything from her.

Now, wanking off for photographs is one thing - but being caught masturbating when you're expecting it to be a private event is completely different. I was very embarrassed. She didn't seem too bothered, though.

Caught masturbating Part One - Cameras

2010-09-29T09:51:00.000+01:00

I was modelling for a friend of mine. Her name is Janette and we've done this a bunch of times and these sessions usually end up with me masturbating while she snaps off a final few pictures.

The day went well. It was nice and hot and I knew of a place locally where nobody ever went. It's along a nice, countryside path and ends up on the grounds of an old, derelict house. Big, wide open space where we could see anyone approaching for miles.

So we took loads of pictures. Some nudes, some partially dressed, some of me sprawled out on the ground among the grass - the whole range. A few times I made sure I was hard and she took various pictures of me stroking myself, but I wasn't really going for it at that point.

We ended up within the walls of the house itself and took a lot more pictures again. And then, finally, as it was starting to get cold and the day was drawing on, we decided that I'd "go for the climax".

Now... I'm short sighted and Janette is profoundly deaf. I had taken my glasses off, so could see very little. So neither of us noticed that at this point we'd drawn a little audience.

She gestured for me to masturbate and I took my cock in my hand and started pumping, then suddenly heard a sort of strangulated choking noise. My head snaps up and I see that we're not alone, so I fumble for my glasses but by the time I've got them on, all I can see are two girls rapidly retreating. Janette looked round as soon as she saw my head snap up, so she got a clearer look. She told me later, that they were two girls in their late teens. Apparently they'd been completely fascinated by the show, but the moment they had been sprung, they had taken off immediately. She thought it was very amusing. I was much more embarrassed.

I still managed to go on and complete the photography project, though - after all, there wasn't much chance of them returing for another look.

I masturbated in front of her to seduce her

2010-09-26T11:15:00.000+01:00

It was a very calculated display.

I had volunteered to be a tour guide for someone and I was walking with her along the Innocent Railway in Edinburgh. We were talking about photography. I fancied her a lot, but wasn't sure how to let her know. After all, it wasn't a date - I was her tour guide. So it was a very innocent expedition. I just needed to make it less innocent.

I steered the subject to nude photography. I had some pictures on my 'phone and I showed her a couple of them. A few had been taken along this very path and I pointed those out, but expressed sorrow that they weren't as good as they could have been. I somehow let it be known that I was always looking for new pictures for my portfolio. She liked them, so I showed her others. I hoped she was getting intrigued, and she was.

After a while, we agreed that it would be cool if I posed for some pictures. It was a bright, hot, sunny day and there was nobody around. I dropped my clothes by the side of the road while she kept an eye out. If anyone approached, I just ducked to the side. I had plenty of warning.

When the road was quiet, I stepped out of cover and she snapped off some pictures. I posed by some rocks, and lounged around. At first, I tried not to get hard, because I didn't want to charge straight in too quickly with the hotter stuff. But I was definitely out to show off my cock. I wanted her to see what I had.

After a while, I got deliberately more sensuous. I was touching my body, stroking myself, getting more self-intimate. Testing the waters and watching her reactions. My hand glided across my cock, but kept going past it and down onto my thigh. She didn't protest. Even when I started to harden, she kept snapping pictures. I turned in profile, so she could see it more clearly - an erection looks better in profile, because it doesn't have that stubby foreshortening effect.

I curled my fingers around it, so she could see exactly what I was doing - so there was no disguising the fact that we were now in a very sexually charged setting. I squeezed it and looked round at her. She snapped more pictures. I pumped it very slowly and kept looking at her. Then I started pumping harder. Then I was full-on masturbating right there in front of her.

After a while, I lay down on the ground and continued to touch myself, stroke myself, masturbate... play with my cock and turn it into a show. I was indulging freely in my most wanton, decadent exhibitionist traits and I was loving every minute of it. I just had to keep one thing in mind... this was seduction, not a wank. I wasn't going to fuck her - not here. And I wasn't going to waste this by spilling it all over the ground.

So eventually, reluctantly, I let it go. I picked up my clothes. And I put my cock away. We took more pictures later, when we got to Duddingston Loch. And more again, when we got to Craigmillar Castle. And each time, I started off innocent. And each time I ended up wanking off in front of her. She never touched me. She just kept watching and kept taking pictures. And each time, she seemed to appreciate what she saw.

The rest of the seduction came later.

The Aberdeen project

2010-09-07T10:19:00.000+01:00

Recently, I went to Aberden for a weekend away. While I was there, my host participated in a photography trip on the beach. There are two beaches - one on either side of the River Don. The more interesting of the two is the "wild beach", where fewer people go.

As it was starting to get dark, I asked my host to take some nude pictures of me so I had some new material to work on add to my site. She agreed and we walked away from the rest of the group a bit so we wouldn't offend anyone. I stripped off and started posing in front of the water. It was going fine and - as usual - I was enjoying the elements. The cool, sea breeze on my naked body. I loved it.

Suddenly, one of the other photographers saw what we were doing and she eagerly hurried up to join in. So now two girls were taking pictures of me. A third girl wandered up, but didn't have a camera. I thought she wanted to watch, but was a bit wary of intruding, so I invited her to join in. After that, we've got the epitome of a CFNM environment - two clothed girls taking pictures of a CFNM scenario.

Eventually, I got dressed and made a comment about how much I had enjoyed myself. One of the photographers gleefully told me that she could tell, and then showed me one of the pictures she had taken - completely showing off the erection I had somehow managed to convince myself wasn't all that prominent. I blushed a bit at that, but shrugged it off.

Later, I felt a bit guilty when the girl who had joined in told me she had been a bit embarrassed by the event - and had then been shocked by the erection. The other girls told me that they would have been concerned if I HADN'T got hard at any point. I just felt bad that I'd caused any discomfort.

The Cramond Island project

2010-09-04T11:24:00.000+01:00

All these pictures were taken on Cramond Island.

We took well over an hour just to walk along the causeway because we were in no real hurry. So by the time we got there, the tide had started coming in. This made us cautious, but not quite urgent.

When we got onto the island, the last people there were just getting ready to go, so we waited until we had the place to ourselves and then I stripped off for some pictures. It was one of the safest outdoor nude photoshoots I’d ever done. We had a prime view of the causeway, so would have plenty of warning if anyone approached. Of course, there might have still been someone on the island, and someone might have taken a boat out, but still… the risk was negligible. Nobody was going to see us.

We took the pictures, then left. We got our feet wet, but that was no big deal. We walked through Cramond Village and on to the bus stop, then sat down to wait for the bus. Shortly afterwards, a couple came up and sat down next to us to wait for the same bus.

The man started telling me about his camera. He told me it had a great lens that could see for a long, long distance. I asked how long. He assured me it could see from the shore to the island. We were laughing by this point. He assured me he took no pictures. I assured him that I had no problem with it if he did.

When you think the risk is at the most negligible, that’s when someone’s got a high-powered camera, being very entertained.

Show a little restraint

2010-09-01T10:49:00.000+01:00

Another picture. I was messing around with this one and wasn't really sure where it was going to go, but then I solarised it and everything fell into place. I love the sort of texture it's been given as a result.

The fetish gazette

2010-07-23T10:39:00.000+01:00

I created a variation of this image about a year ago, then took a fresh look at it and realised that the pictures were letting it down. So I updated it. The words are just the same, but it's been given a bit of a facelift.

I still have the original, but this is definitely the preferential option.

Modelling with Anne

2010-07-22T13:15:00.000+01:00

Photography: Anne & G. Farquhar
Models: Anne & G. Farquhar

These pictures were taken on the same day, when Anne and I got to somewhere more private. They're just as beautiful, and what I really love about them is the tangle of hands and fingers. Sometimes it's hard to work out just exactly what's going on in some of these pictures.