Author: Innocent Loverboy (Page 19 of 31)

Should’ve gone to Specsavers

March 14, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 1 Comment

It was a very sleepy Monday. For reasons unrelated to each other (but I suspect “it’s the middle of the term and there aren’t any holidays in sight” was probably a big factor), none of us had had a restful weekend. Nobody wanted to be in school, and you could tell that the staff felt largely the same way. Nevertheless, I tried to make the best of it.

“Hi, Ant.”
“GET YOUR EYES TESTED!” shouted Ant at maximum volume, and he stormed off.

Tuesday was a little better, although the weather was proving to be muggy and uncomfortable. I spent most of my breaks in the library, anyway, but it was still a relief to get inside. Ant came by at one point, and I raised a hand in friendly greeting.

“I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR EYES TESTED!” he yelled in my face before walking off in a huff.

On Wednesday, I was sitting with my friends in the dining hall when Ant came up to me from behind.

“HAVE YOU HAD YOUR EYES TESTED YET?” he caterwauled into an ear that hadn’t worked properly ever since.
“I have, but my astigmatism is very mild,” I replied pleasantly while he stood there giving me a frown so hard it was very clear he wished me nothing but a slow and painful death. “Am I ever going to find out what this is about, or have you just started this and don’t know where you’re going with it?”

[NB: This last statement was used as the basis for ABC’s Lost, a few years later.]

“It’s because you can’t see,” hissed Ant – which I can’t fault him for; that’s the usual reason you should get an eye test.
“I thought I could, unless I’m actually dreaming and this is all an illusion…?”
“No, I mean you can’t see. Ugliness. You can’t see that she’s ugly.”
“…Who?”

This was a genuine question on my part. He could have been referring to Ann Widdecombe and wouldn’t have been wrong, either.

“You know who I’m referring to. That girl… the one you sit opposite in Science.”

‘That girl’ had a name, which everyone knew, including Ant, who had been in the same classes as her for five years.

“Oh,” I said softly. “But I don’t think she’s ugly.”
“Well, you need to get your eyes tested, then,” said Ant. “Because she is. And I heard you fancy her, so you need to…”
“…get my eyes tested,” I supplied. “But your information is wrong. I don’t fancy her. I just want to have sex with her.”

Okay, maybe I didn’t say that last bit. But it wasn’t false. I didn’t fancy this girl and I never had, but we had been friends for a long time and I really, really, really wanted to have sex with her. I’d been having dreams about the subject since year 7.

“Sure you don’t,” retorted Ant sardonically. “I heard otherwise. You’ve had dreams about kissing her.”

My dreams were more about how well my penis might fit into her vagina, but I wasn’t going to say that either.

“I have,” I admitted, “but you always dream about crazy stuff. I’ve had two dreams in which I found out I was Jesus. In the first of those, I used my divine powers to turn into a dinosaur.”
“You what?”
“And in any case,” I ploughed on, “you’ve had strange dreams yourself. You told me about that one you had about Britney…”
“I HAVE MANLY NEEDS!” Ant screamed like a banshee, and without another word, he turned and steamrollered off, right into a wall that had been there since we started and you may think he might have noticed.

There was a pause.

“What was all that about?” asked Einstein as we carried on with our lunch.
“I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “Maybe he needs his eyes tested.”

Smart casual

March 7, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 0 Comments

“What’s up?” asked Lightsinthesky, once the hustle and bustle of the younger students had calmed down. The little recess in the corridor, which housed the door to the library, was always a good place to have a conversation without being overheard.

Or so we thought.

“I’ve been having too much casual sex lately,” said Music Man blithely.

Everyone laughed – although not unkindly. Attractive though he may have been, Music Man hadn’t had any casual sex. In fact, none of us had. The first of us to have any sort of sex was still yet to happen, although – by this point – we were all of legal age. Music Man just said random things like that. We loved how random he was in any case.

“Who’s been having casual sex?” asked our careers advisor, opening the door to his office (which also opened onto the little recess). It was always a gamble whether or not he’d be in there – although it was pleasing when he was; he was always up for a chat about musical theatre, a shared interest between both of us. I’d also allowed him access once to a BBC contract for my work experience placement in year 10, something he was very excited about.

“Music Man,” we all said, pointing to him. Our careers advisor cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, make sure you use protection,” he said. “Anyway, it’s none of my business. I’ve got to finish getting ready for the weekend.”
“Paris again, is it?” I asked innocently.
“Amsterdam, actually,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me…”

He retreated into his room and locked the door.

“I can think of one person who really is having casual sex,” grinned Lightsinthesky as we finally made our way into the library.
“Actually, that reminds me,” I said quietly.
“What, casual sex?”
“No! The office! If he’s in it I can’t have my session with Eleanor!”

Which was entirely true. Eleanor, who was a year older than me, was my unofficial counsellor thanks to a youth outreach programme they had started offering the sixth form. We’d been using our careers advisor’s office as a space since he was hardly ever there and she had a key.

“Why, what is it you’re doing with Eleanor every week, anyway?” asked Einstein.
“Oh, you know…” I said. “Music Man’s been having too much…”

“CASUAL SEX!” shouted Lightsinthesky, at which everyone in the library looked around.

Hard Porn Tuesday

March 2, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 0 Comments

It had been a difficult week. Illnesses, money worries, body image and projects that only get finished at the last minute. Yesterday afternoon was a hodgepodge of excitement and exhaustion. I couldn’t focus; I couldn’t think. Time for porn.

I opened VLC and started browsing the folder I’ve helpfully named “Don’t Look Here!”. What should I watch? All my favourite scenes were there in alphabetical order. It shouldn’t have been difficult to choose one – specifically since I hadn’t had an orgasm in about a week and now had a couple of hours to kill. My finger hovered over the Shannan-Leigh-in-Andromina scene and…

…and…

The problem with this was that, for the last two weeks, I’d mostly been eschewing softcore in favour of harder stuff. It was easier (and more unfamiliar, which made it better, since I love discovering new stuff) to spend a while on Chaturbate than it was to spool through the several-hundred-strong scene count I’ve got on my HD and/or my Discs of Wonder.™

I’d even started delving into the murky depths of genuine hardcore porn. I’ve always been fond of Laura Angel, but right now I’m a bit of a fan of cute, nerdy starlet Leana Lovings (although that’s Emma‘s fault, so blame her); in fact, I’ve even invented a new mark to put in my diary when it’s Leana I’ve been watching when I come. (Is that creepy? I think it’s creepy. I don’t know… I just don’t…!)

Yesterday afternoon, however, I waivered. I’d just come home from a rather intense job interview, during which I slipped and fell in some mud (before doing the entire interview with my brand new suit and coat covered in it (and still managed to get the job!)). My entire intention was to work off all the stress of February with softcore, and yet ILB of February hadn’t been watching softcore.

What had I become?

Okay, fine, I thought. I’ve got time. I’ll watch a few things. I opened some tabs, and then closed them again. I cued up a few videos, and then hit pause almost immediately.

Flappy ILB is not good ILB. My brain was shattered into little pieces, my heart was pounding, my memory spinning, and worst of all, my penis was rock hard and I wasn’t doing anything about it, which was my intention when sitting at my computer to begin with!

In the end, I chose a scene completely at random. No skipping, no closing it after the good bit, no cinematographic criticism in my head. Just a scene. I just needed to watch a scene – good old clean, glossy soft porn. My gateway drug and my first great love.

And I had the biggest orgasm I’ve had in weeks the instant the scene ended.

…

There’s a lesson here somewhere. If only I could work out what it is…

TMI Tuesday: Savour

February 22, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 0 Comments

Say I love you, girl, but I’m out of time
Say I’m there for you, but I’m out of time
Say that I’ll care for you, but I’m out of time
Said, I’m too late to make you mine, out of time

Attractive curly-haired black lady eating a cupcake and looking like she is thoroughly enjoying it. — An appropriate picture since I’m the King of Cake.

Wow, okay, it has been a while since I did a blog post.

Time has not been on my side. I have spent two weeks caring for a fiancée with incredibly debilitating COVID-19 (worse than when I had it; I just slept most of mine off). The art project I’ve been doing has been pretty stop-start as a result of this, and although it started well, I genuinely don’t think I’m going to finish it before the deadline. I’m also still looking for a job and, every now and again, have a trial day somewhere that fails, or get given a start date somewhere that ghosts me.

I genuinely want to blog – it’s one of my favourite things to do, even here partway through year fifteen. However, with everything going on at the moment (even though it seems like I have a lot of free time, I genuinely don’t), blogging has had to fall on the back burner.

It’s fitting, then, that one of the few snatches of time I’ve got to knock out a post is on a Tuesday, when there’s a handy meme to get the fires burning. I don’t know if there’s a theme with this one (it appears to be “savour”, as evidenced by the image), but it genuinely allowed me to get my geek on.

1. What did you last savour and when?

Three Batman-themed OREOs. Just now.

OK, I will explain. There are now OREOs with Batman’s face on them, to tie in with the upcoming release of The Batman. They don’t actually taste any different from normal OREOs, nor do they cost more. But I am a gullible fool, and yesterday I was having a Batman marathon thanks to a box set I got for Christmas, so in the evening I saw a pack and bought it.

J'onn J'onzz sitting in a chair holding a glass of milk surrounded by OREO cookies. — J’onn and his one true love.

I’m still not going to get over the fact that they’ve never made Martian Manhunter OREOs. I mean, he’s the superhero who actually manages to savour them.

2. Athletic, mind-blowing sex or slow, sexy romantic sex, what do you want right now?

Can’t slow, romantic sex also be mind-blowing?

In any case, having not had sex for about six or seven years now, any type of sex would be good for me. I’ve put on a bit of weight and lost the use of my left arm since, though, so I’d be a little nervous about not being that good any more!

(Is my excuse, anyway. I’d probably just get her to orgasm via oral and then see what happens.)

3. You are being interviewed and asked to comment on sex work. What do you have to add to the discussion?

Nothing that hasn’t already been said, although I have plenty to say about sex work.

I was once stopped by a madam in Soho who offered me girls, and when I politely declined, boys. She also said that I didn’t actually have to have sex – she could offer massages with or without happy endings to savour – but I again politely said no, thank you, I was in a bit of a hurry anyway, but thanks for thinking of me.

I couldn’t fault her sales patter – offering viable alternatives according to the customer’s needs – but I think she was as surprised as I was that I stopped to talk to her!

4. Should sex work be decriminalised?

Yes, and it should have been already.

I’m astounded that it hasn’t been. From what I can tell, criminalisation is dangerous, the Nordic Model is overly regulated, and because there are so many different types of sex work (full-service isn’t the only type – do you count a porn star or an erotic masseuse as a sex worker?), it would be impossible to introduce a law to protect them all.

Decriminalisation is the only way, and it’s only really because of the social stigma that this hasn’t been given a higher agenda. I’m saying this now: if I ever become an MP, it’s the first thing I’m mentioning.

5. Fill in the blank. Don’t…

…throw fruit at the computer.
Don’t what?
Don’t throw fruit at the computer.
Don’t what?
Don’t throw fruit at the computer.

Who do they think I am? Some kind of fool?

(If you know what this is, I love you.)

Bonus: Are you bored with people who are successful and unhappy? Why?

No; people who are successful and unhappy are fascinating. It’s interesting to see exactly why people can be emotionally down when economically up, and it’s also a refreshing antithesis to the “greed is good” philosophy of the ’80s and the already-rich silver-spoon élitism of the Tories.

I’m more bored with those who are successful and happy, or even worse, successful and smug about it. Even if (and this is overall not the case) they have actually worked for it, the way they overtly savour their wealth is sickening.

Of course, a lot of the most interesting people I don’t know have no idea what they want to do with their life. There are a lot of cultural riches to be found within the average Joe, and so many more than you will find behind the vacuous smile of someone so often in the spotlight.

You, I Love

February 14, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 1 Comment

As much as I’d like to say so, I can’t – and never have been able to – hate Valentine’s Day. I never quite got the vibe as a single teenager (or single young adult, if you are counting 18-23 as being anything else), in particular seeing websites and magazines continuously saying it was the perfect day to pull, but never being able to pull myself.

I’ve never managed to pull. I don’t even know how to attempt it.

Since I was a very young person, though, I’ve been fond of the phrase “I love you”. It’s very simple, three syllables, but it carries so much weight. I like to use it as much as I can, and even when I was five, I wrote a song based on what I’d heard on Top of the Pops:

Ooh, I love you, baby
But only when you’re singin’ true (ooh-ooh-ooh)
Singin’ true
Is just for me and you…
“singin’ true”, 1990

As a single teenager, I said it a lot as well. Usually choked out through a veil of tears in paroxysms of grief, but I said it. At one point I stood at the edge of an echoey valley and shouted it at maximum volume with the idea that the girl I was saying it to would hear somehow.

Sometimes, with the pretence that I was writing artful poetry an an excuse, I’d write it. I was a fairly angsty poet, for sure, but I very much liked to make a declaration of love:

You are agony,
Yet the agony you bring I have to endure.
If I’ve decided that I love you
Then I have to face the consequences.
“The Pleasure of Agony” (1999)

My first girlfriend didn’t like to say it. She was of the opinion that it was “a bit overdone”, whereas I was always fond of saying it to her. If American sitcoms are to be believed, some couples don’t say it at all, and I made a point of doing so. And in my second, and third, relationships, it was always something I’d say – first thing in the morning, and last thing at night.

When I was single, I used to say it every Valentine’s anyway. Me being me, I would have had a crush on at least one person on every occasion, and they’d be who I said it to. Not out loud, of course, but by myself in a corner somewhere. I felt it a little cathartic to say “I love you”, even if they’d never know or care.

Having someone to tell you love them makes it all somewhat different.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t tell my fiancée I love them enough. I say it a lot – sometimes it’s a simple text; sometimes it’s every other sentence – but I can’t get enough of saying it. I feel love for them, I do love them, but I can’t ever feel like I say it enough. I could say it ∞ times, but it still wouldn’t quite express how much I want to say it.

So today I kept a tally.

Today, I have told them that I love them eighteen times, and every time I meant it. By the end of the day, it will probably reach about twenty or twenty-five (I’ll update this post when I reach a final total!). But I’ll keep saying it. I like saying it. I can’t tell them enough. And, of course, I like to hear it back.

[UPDATE: 27! More than I had predicted, helped a lot by us ending up batting the word “love” back and forth just before bed.]

And, gentle reader, I love you too.

Okay?

February 10, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 1 Comment

[11:00 pm.]

ILB: “Huh. Huh. Huh. Huh. Huuuu…”
JS: (off, from bedroom) “Are you okay?”
ILB: (from sofa) “Yesss…”
JS: “Are you sure you’re okay?”
ILB: “Yes, I’m sure, I’m…”

[Pause. ILB orgasms violently, a string of cum shooting from the tip of his throbbing penis. It lands on his supine body, leaving a continuous trail from his shoulder down to his belly.]

ILB: “Uh…”
JS: “Are you okay?!”
ILB: “Yes, I’m good!”

[ILB hauls himself from his position and gropes for the tissues. There is a lot to clean up. He starts wiping, both impressed and appalled by how much there is.]

JS: “You’re good?”
ILB: “I’m good!”

[Quiet. JS has gone to sleep. ILB crawls under the heavy duvet he has brought to the sofa. He gives a soft, satisfied sigh, upon which the CURTAIN falls.]

The Mystery Crush

February 2, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 0 Comments

A few months into our relationship, my ex indicated to me that she had a crush on someone else.

“She doesn’t want to say this, and she isn’t going to mention it again, or act on it,” said Oxford (although his voice sounded a lot like the Seamstress’ own), “but… there is someone else.”

My eyes, already filled with tears, started to leak. As they rolled down my cheeks, he carried on.

“As for you,” he said to the Seamstress, “what do you think you are doing, hurting this beautiful boy? You don’t want to upset anyone, and Lady Pandorah would be very upset with you, so there.“

“Right,” I whispered through a veil of tears. “Thanks, Oxford.” And I curled up to cry as the Seamstress awkwardly – but sweetly – stroked the hair of the boy she hurt.

A few months after our relationship ended, I asked the question that I’d been aching to ask since that moment.

“You know how you said, a few months in, that you had a crush on someone else? Who was that?”
“Oh… no-one.”

That didn’t make sense. It couldn’t have been no-one. She wouldn’t have said there was otherwise.

“No, I really need to know. It doesn’t matter who it was. Really.”
“Oh. No-one.”

This time, there was a finality to her voice. The conversation ended, as they tend to do, and neither of us ever mentioned it again. In fact, I don’t think I have heard her voice since.

But I still wonder who it was. It can’t have really been no-one, or she wouldn’t have indicated otherwise.

It was more than a decade ago… but it still keeps me up at nights.

TMI Tuesday: Bondage & Dwarfs

January 25, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 1 Comment

I opened the door
The place was crawling with dwarfs
I said, “what is this, some kind of orgy?”
But she just smiled at me as she picked up a dwarf and greased him up
Then she started wanking off Dopey…

For ~~want of content~~ your perusal, I’m once again doing this meme. Yes, I too was slightly disturbed by the title of this one. I have, incidentally, once been in a production of Snow White and Several Dwarfs (we had eight), but I’m fairly sure that’s not what this is about.

My fiancée is fairly short; let’s go with that.

1. What is one thing your significant other could do to you to rock your world?

Sexually, or generally? This is one of those open questions, so I’m not sure how to answer that.

If we’re talking sex, then the thing that affects me the most is having my nipple sucked while I wank myself off. I like having sex, of course, but since that isn’t happening, this is as close as we’re going to get. Not that this has happened, either.

On a more chaste, but no less intimate, note, they could let me spoon them in bed. We used to do this all the time, but it doesn’t happen any more.

2. You have been granted the super power you always wanted. How will you abuse that power? Why?

I’ve always wanted to be able to fly. Ever since I was very young, that’s been one of my desires – as a child, I was obsessed with the concept of freedom. Being able to take off from the ground and go anywhere was a way of escape.

I’d abuse this power by going places. I’ve always wanted to visit Japan and probably never will, so that’s the first place I’d go. I’d also be able to visit all the people I know abroad, like my hairy friend in the USA and my cousin in Australia. I’d also do a few good deeds, like Moe at the end of The Homer They Fall.

Of course, I’d save a packet on commuting too.

3. For sexy play, would you rather be tied up or tie someone else up? Why?

As regular readers will know, bondage really isn’t my thing, although I have been talked into it.

On the few times that I have indulged, I’ve always been the one doing the tying up. I can’t stand being constrained – it does odd things to my brain – and, anyway, I don’t like pain, and the tight knots experienced practitioners use always look painful.

4. What is your best physical and non physical asset?

My best physical asset is, unequivocally and without doubt, my eyes. They’re a lovely shade of medium blue and shine ‘just so’ in the light. They even look pretty when I cry, which is a feat all on its own. I’m not happy with the rest of my body… but I have good eyes.

My best non-physical asset is probably my honest, unwavering heart.

5. Referring to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, if they were naming new dwarfs beyond the seven, what would your name be and why?

Trivia time! Disney had a long list of dwarf names before deciding on seven; he rejected a lot of alternate adjectives before making his choice.

I think I’d probably be “Pretentious”. You don’t really need to do much except reading my blog to see why.

Seastorm

January 20, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 0 Comments

For the fourth time that day, I regretted not bringing a hat to Chessington. Although the continuous beat of the sun had proven quite effective in baking off the water I was covered in from Professor Burp’s Bubbleworks, it was still feeling quite oppressive as we stood patiently in the queue for Seastorm.

Lightsinthesky had left us a while ago, accusing us of living in “pencil-land” when we both refused to go on Rameses’ Revenge. Einstein and I were enjoying ourselves, however.

What neither of them knew was that I had had A Moment™ earlier that day. As usual, nobody had wanted to sit next to me on the bus, so I had a double seat to myself – most of the rowdy boys opposite me were more concerned with making V-signs at lorry drivers than haranguing me, so I had a quiet journey. As we pulled into Chessington, however, the radio blasted an Elton John track the instant the second bus came into view.

The first person I saw through the window was Zebra, the girl I had a crush on. Granted, she was the only one I’d been looking for, but the combination of the music’s swell and her long, dark hair (and beautiful toothy smile) had a profound effect on me. At that moment, all I felt was love, love, love, and the dark and difficult year I’d just had seemed to simply melt away.

As Einstein and I clambered onto Seastorm, she hovered into view again (and I mean that – her feet never seemed to touch the ground), accompanied by her short, cheeky friend and two tall, white girls with glasses. Eventually, I’d end up with a crush on all of them. But, at the time, I only had eyes for her.

“Look, there’s…” I started, but I never got to finish my sentence, as she faded into a blur when Seastorm started moving. I held on, let out a few whoops every now and again, and thought to myself, this is all right. Everything’s all right.

For the rest of the day, I kept an eye out for her, although the milieu of warm bodies throughout the park was too dense to make out her shape. I went on as many rides as I could, for sure, but I never did see her after Seastorm.

As it grew darker, the teachers corralled us and we were duly shepherded back onto our respective buses. I sat in the same seat, the multitudes prepared their V-sign fingers, and I trained my eyes on the window I’d seen Zebra sitting at that morning. As I’d hoped, she materialised in exactly the same place, smile fixed to her face, looking straight forwards.

She wouldn’t see me unless she turned to the right.

So I stared…

Ring

January 15, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 0 Comments

Ring ring
Is that you on the ‘phone?
You think you’re clever
But you’re never saying nothing at all

It was the middle of a lazy Saturday afternoon when the ‘phone began to ring. My parents were out, my sister was away, my gran was at a day centre, and my dog couldn’t use a ‘phone. Moreover, the landline was just outside my bedroom, so it was easy for me to get.

The problem being that I wasn’t really available to answer it. We had decided to take advantage of the empty house and spend an hour or so of having very energetic, very messy and very loud sex; not content with re-aligning her spine on a regular basis, we were now trying to murder my mattress. She was certainly making all the right sort of noises, and tight around my shaft…

I was going to come inside her. I was so close (and she was approaching something like her second or third orgasm), so I couldn’t just stop now, could I?

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.

“How long does it take you to answer the ‘phone?” squawked Lightsinthesky by way of a greeting. “We were wondering if you were going to come and sit in when we record the song?”

The song! I’d totally forgotten about it. I’d even written a verse myself and hovered in the music room making suggestions while Music Man strummed chords. I owed it to them – and my token black friend (whose song it was, nominally) – to turn up.

“I was… was… going to…”
“Are you coming back to bed, love?” she said, loudly and breathily, grabbing my arm and hauling.
“Yes, yes,” I gabbled. “I’ll come…” (at which point she laughed) “…I’ve just got to finish something first. I’ll be there, I’ll be…”

She took the ‘receiver from my hand and hung up. We went back to bed, and half an hour later with my cock still tender and her full of cum, we turned up at Lightsinthesky’s house. None of those present had ever met her before, but one supposes meeting someone in their “just got railed” state isn’t an entirely unpleasant experience.

*

Later that day my mother deemed it prudent to ask the perfectly innocuous question of what we had been doing that afternoon.

“We went to Lightsinthesky’s house,” I said, perfectly truthfully, “and recorded the song we wrote for my token black friend. It was very good; she was still singing the chorus afterwards.”
“Did you say hello to Dane?”
“Dane. The builder, Dane.”

I knew Dane. He had helped to convert our attic into a third bedroom. But I’d no idea he had been present. Maybe he had come by while I was at Lightinthesky’s?

“I didn’t see him – when was he here?”
“He’s been here all afternoon, finishing the bathroom floor! You didn’t see him? What were you doing for most of the afternoon?”

😳

He’d certainly done a good job on that bathroom floor. Six years later and I was still fucking on it.