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?
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.
It’s the second week of 2022 (possibly – time has very little meaning any more) and the first time I’m doing this meme. Hmmm, that isn’t as snappy a sentence as I thought at… wait for it…
…at first.
When you’ve finished rolling in the aisles and being carried out helpless with mirth, would you mind reading the rest of this post? Cheers.
1. First app you check in the morning?
This is Twitter. I don’t have any other apps on my phone – I use Facebook, but rarely, and primarily on my computer, and I don’t have any other accounts – ie. I don’t use Instagram, Snapchat, TikTok et al. (edit the preceding sentence according to the year). I routinely check Twitter, since it genuinely is my only link to the outside world.
I’ve got WhatsApp too, which I guess is an app of a sort, but I’ll check Twitter first.
2. First kiss location?
In her bedroom, on her bed, just after asking her to be my girlfriend. I’d never been kissed before, and I had no idea how to do it. It was messy, deep and surprising – I didn’t even imagine that there would be so much tongue – but so, so good.
She kissed me again afterwards, which was also a surprise!
3. First major purchase over £1,000?
I don’t think I’ve ever bought something that cost over £1,000 (not even rent – the rent here is £950 per month and the deposit was paid by my grandparents)… and, even if I wanted to, I would never be able to afford that!
My biggest purchases have been video game consoles. My Switch set me back a couple of hundred.
4. First song choice in a karaoke song book?
For someone who can’t shut up once he’s started singing, I’ve got very little experience with karaoke. I know all the lyrics to the greatest hits of James, so I’d go for those (as long as it isn’t Sit Down), and I’d sing anything by Smash Mouth by virtue of them being my second-favourite band. But, generally, I’d sing anything.
The first and only time I’ve ever tried karaoke, I sang Gangnam Style. No, I can’t read Korean, but I knew the words phonetically… to a point, at least.
5. First internet screen name?
Benvolio. We were studying Romeo & Juliet (and I was reading Doctor Faustus, in which he also appears), and it seemed an appropriate enough sobriquet.
6. First break-up reason?
Oh, well done on opening up that wound.
This is still unresolved, and won’t ever be. I think the most simple reason is “dumped me for someone else”, but I’m fairly certain there were multiple other reasons for what happened. She was reading The Ethical Slut before breaking up with me, and I’m pretty sure that was a contributing factor.
The fact remains that I was being cheated on (and I knew it was happening and didn’t say anything on the assumption that it would end soon), and as a result, I find it incredibly difficult to trust my partners, especially if they have a celebrity crush.
It’s a silly thought, but it stems from how my first relationship ended. One word from anyone else and they’d be out the door.
7. First concert and how old were you?
Green Day 2002. I was 17.
I’ve been to a lot of concerts (I almost saw Staind before Green Day, but Music Man also promised the ticket to his then-girlfriend), and prior to this I saw a lot of classical music at the Barbican. I am assuming that you mean rock concerts, though, and therefore The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party at the age of 12 probably doesn’t count.
It took me long enough to get to a concert. I had tickets for blink-182 the previous year, but then 9/11 happened and all the flights got cancelled. Then Tom broke his back. I eventually saw blink-182 in 2004… I was going to go with my girlfriend, but – well, see above…
8. First crush?
My first crush was a very quiet girl who sat in the most inaccessible corner or every classroom. I had a crush on her for a very long time, actually, and until the end of school, I still sneaked a few looks at her. We eventually became friends.
At the time, I gave all my crushes code names. Hers was The Zebra Project.
Bonus: What was the title of your very first blog post?
It was “I really don’t understand some people.” The first sentence was:
It’s so unfair, sometimes. I try my damn hardest not to get so upset about everything and yet some things just whistle by.
2001 ilb
Most of my earliest blog posts were angsty teen rants from a boy who desperately wanted a girlfriend – more intimate and love-fuelled posts than I had in my paper diaries, but still on a public space and intended to be read. My early blog posts weren’t good reads, but looking back on them, they do provide something of an insight into the teenage male mind, and maybe that proved useful…
First post of 2022 and it’s a meme. ILB, you predictable bastard.
In any case, this is my attempt at taking part in the new Five Things meme, with thanks to Julie from MPB for coming up with the concept. The prompt is “journals, diaries and planners.” I can do that, I’m sure.
When I was in my teens, before I stated blogging, I kept a journal. I wrote it, diligently – almost religiously – every single day. Occasionally my entry would be a couple of sentences (on two occasions I wrote “too tired to write”, read: “too lazy to write”), but more often than not, I managed to fill the whole page. So here ae five things about my handwritten journaling days.
1) My journal was written purely to entertain.
From the instant I started writing, I knew that the intent was for my journal to be read. Once it got out that I had a journal, I knew people would want to read it, and I knew that I liked to write. My aim wasn’t to keep secrets, nor was it to mention anything too explicit. I wanted my writing to be read and I kept that in mind.
2) Once it was read, it became wildly popular.
Maybe “wildly popular” is a little hyperbolic, but for a while, it was one of the few things any of us brought to read on residential trips, holidays, etc. – and I certainly took a few of them. Since I didn’t mind my journal being read (and it was written for that purpose), I was quite pleased to let it be passed around the group and let everyone read my words. (This may come as a shock to you, but some writers are self-obsessed, wanting people to actually read their content. I know: amazing, isn’t it?)
3) Other journallers were confused by my attitude.
Our year 9 History teacher once asked if any of us wrote a journal; three hands went up. His question was about reading – did any of us let anyone else read their diary? Both girls who had also raised their hands confessed to letting each other read (they were best friends who, at this point, lived together), but that it was private. I said, truthfully, that my journal was an open book (quite literally, heh…) and that I would willingly read bits out if people wanted me to. Neither girl understood this, but they both ended up reading it.
4) I wrote my journal with an incredibly specific style and structure.
This is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else ever do. Every journal entry had to have:
(i) A title – usually a pun, or a sentence, or a couple of key words… like a blog post does. This would range from “Xmas Day” (my very first entry) to things like “Venture On In!” (a Venturer day out) or “Droit du seigneur” (when we’d first done sex ed in school and I was amused by it). I did this accidentally at the beginning and liked it so much I carried on doing it for all three journals I managed to fill.
(ii) A quote of the day. This was something funny, clever or memorable that somebody had said throughout the day. My favourite was “I shall never make soap”, but that takes a bit of explanation to justify.
(iii) In later years, I’d add a statistic or fact (one that I knew; I was too lazy to look anything up) relevant to the day’s events. This went after the quote and was rarely a replacement for it…
(iv) …and/or a “moral learnt”, which was later still and only really appeared in “Journal III”, the final one. This was intended to provide a bit of humour – everything I write is meant to be humorous, really – but throughout the year it became more and more bitter and self-deprecating.
(v) Cross-posting appeal. My first diary was a little longer than my second, so I would write each entry twice: once in my first journal, and then again – word for word – in my second. Towards the end of my third, I started a LiveJournal, and when I didn’t have anything new to add for a journal entry, I would print out that day’s LJ entry and stick it on the page.
5) It wasn’t just a journal.
Because I’m… well… me, although my main intent was to write an entertaining, humorous, self-deprecating account of my life, my journal was used for more. Every now and again, snippets of fiction that I was working on, bits of a playscript (I finished the play, eventually, after photocopying journal pages), song lyrics I’d written, schematics for a droid I wanted, or emotional short-form poetry.
I started my journal when I was 14. At 16, I genuinely wasn’t sure who I was or what I wanted to be… but I was pretty certain that I could write anything I wanted. About anything. In any form.
Why won’t this work? AAAAAAARGH!!! Oh, there we go.
Typing is difficult when you’re sick. I mean, yes, everything is difficult – to a point – when one is sick, but I’ve been finding using my computer particularly hard, which is why I’ve been completely off work since Wednesday last week and written one single blog post in that time. Even in this paragraph, I’m doing the same thing: making an excuse for not blogging, justifying this through having COVID.
30 is a surprise, insofar as it’s a higher position than last year and I have categorically been a worse blogger in the last twelve months. There were less people nominated this year, though, so I suppose that may have helped a little. I’m genuinely grateful for anyone who voted for me.
I’m not even sure if the theme of this TMI Tuesdayis money. It seems to attach itself well to the first few questions, but then peters out. Still, it lets me answer questions, and if there’s one thing I like to do, it’s answering questions.
Ask ILB is still an option, btw.
You went to dinner on a first date, and your date took care of the bill. But when you get home you get a text from your date that is a Venmo request for half the cost of dinner. Do you…
a. Pay the Venmo amount in order to up your chances of a second date? b. Only pay for what you actually consumed? c. Pay nothing because the date supposedly picked up the tab and did not discuss halfsies when you were face-to-face? d. Call the date and yell, “WTF?!”?
Hmmm. There isn’t an option here that matches what I’d actually do. I’d never expect someone else to pay the bill on a first date anyway – going Dutch is always my preferred method, but given the choices here, option A is the closest thing to what I’d do.
I wouldn’t pay my half to increase my chances of a second date, though; I’d do so because it’s the right thing to do!
Does anyone owe you over twenty pounds? How many different people?
A few people, and I’m never expecting to get that back. Two come to mind – the housemate I had at uni, who needed £30 to go to Germany and never mentioned repayment once he returned, and the £100+ I was owed by the lady I went for a sex date with in Brighton and vanished halfway through the night. It transpired that she had never paid the hotel bill (as she said she had done) and I shelled out cash I couldn’t afford for one night of sleepless worry and no sex.
She ghosted me and I’ve never heard from her again.
Are you one to sneak food into cinemas?
No – I’d buy food from the kiosk or the Starbucks my local cinema contains. In fact, that’s what I do do, since I go the cinema a lot and… well, do this.
There’s a Pizza Hut next door to the cinema, which is a popular source of comestibles for the local youth. Rapscallions often go through to the cinema screens with boxes containing side orders from the Hut, or even full pizzas to eat with their film! They’re never challenged for this by the staff, so it’s my assumption that, were I to sneak food in, it wouldn’t be a problem.
What do you want to brag about?
I rarely brag. Let’s think.
[Thinks.]
I’m a very considerate lover.
This is something I’ve been told, rather than something I’ve pulled out of my arse. I will genuinely go out of my way to do something for someone I love (romantically, sexually or otherwise), even sometimes doing something I’m not comfortable with. I’ve been told (again) that it’s apparent I’m very focused on my partner’s pleasure, and won’t stop until she does, unless I’m told to stop, in which case… I stop!
What do you get in trouble for the most?
I have no filter. It takes a huge amount of effort to remember that not everyone is part of a liberal, sex-positive community and that sometimes I have to moderate my conversation to not drop in casual references to sex shops or soft porn actresses.
In my professional life, I can’t do this; it’s a point-black no-go area (as opposed to something in an office which might raise a few eyebrows at most). As a result, I’m slightly more free with my words outside. Most of my friends are relatively chill with my innuendo (which has increased since I started a sex blog); a few are exasperated but tolerant. I can’t think of anyone I still see who’s genuinely offended by my sex talk.
Most of my friends have children now, so I’m assuming that they’ve all had sex themselves at least once.
Bonus: What is in your attic?
I genuinely have no idea. I live in a rented flat. There is an attic, but there’s no stick to open the stairs or ladder to ascend to the loft with, so I haven’t a clue. Most of the overspill from my life is in my parents’ attic, and due to my disability I’m finding it very difficult to get up there any more. My sister may have to sort out my shit at some point, and some of it could be very valuable if she does!
When Channel 5 launched in 1997, it quickly gained a reputation as “the porn channel”, even though it didn’t really show anything that could be broadly categorised as porn. It did show, on Friday evenings, the occasional erotic thriller (which teenage ILB translated as “plot with sex”) or erotic drama (“less plot, more sex”), usually carrying nothing more than a two-star rating.
Is this what counts as censorship in 2004?
It stopped doing so after five years. Had it not, it would have shown this, hands down.
Appearance:Passionate Encounters (2004) Characters: Cassandra & Doctor Jenkins
So, here’s the tea. Passionate Encounters is billed as a drama, but we all know what it really is. The female character Cassandra is played by hardcore porn star Venus; Jenkins by softcore stalwart Burke Morgan (although in this case he isn’t playing the ‘slightly older non-sexual thingy’ that Surrender had him booked for in the early ’00s). There is, in fact, a plot: two psychologists start an experiment… which is meant to explore various people’s behaviour towards each other.
It soon turns to… okay, I don’t need to finish this sentence, do I?
The first thing that I need to talk about here is Burke Morgan. I’m aware of his work in Virgins of Sherwood Forest (in which he plays the viceroy) and Dungeon of Desire (in which he plays the wizard Marcus). I’m also aware that he’s in Friend of the Family and Scandal! On the Other Side (and LA 7 with S Club), but as things stand, up until this point I can’t really recall seeing him have sex.
Here, he presents as being in possession of a short, stubbly goatee (black with grey streaks)… and a mullet.
The scene takes place he has a mullet in an apartment he has a mullet with a city-scape outside he has a mullet at night he has a mullet with beautiful, younger girl he has a mullet Cassandra he has a mullet (played by he has a mullet Venus). He does appear to be markedly older than her, but maybe that is the point – Dr Jenkins is a clever professor, after all – and it doesn’t make a lot of difference to the proceedings, either.
Did the camera operator faint? This is at a weird angle.
We start with classic softcore disrobing, although to the scene’s credit most of Cassandra’s clothes come of after Jenkins has started licking her out. There’s actually quite a lot of soft porn cunnilingus here, actually, accounting for a quarter of the scene, and it’s not badly done, either: Venus is making all sorts of noises, and it has a sort of “I must lick, now, right now” urgency (I feel you, doc) that I like. Waste no time, start with the pleasure. Impressive.
At 01:16 we mix to a different shot, and this is initially of Cassandra just bouncing up and down (making the same noises she was making in the previous shot!). This is sex, clearly – and yes, we cut to a wider shot of sex – bouncy sitting position sort of sex – on a sofa with the city twinkling behind them.
That’s either a brown curtain behind them or abstract photography. Either’s fine, really.
A note on the city, then: this is the backdrop for the entire scene. It’s remarkably simple – lights of an urban area at night – but it works, insofar as highlighting the grandeur of the place in which their warm room is a tine part and offsetting their cosy arrangement with a bustling metropolis that never sleeps. It’s a remarkable piece of mise-en-scène that I’m fairly sure I’m the only one to have noticed. Nice to see these things.
Anyway, is there sex still happening? Ah, there it is.
There is a fair amount of energy in the scene, as well – even if there isn’t a lot of variation in the sex position. There’s quite a lot of bounce – standard bump’n’grind – but Venus’ facial expressions and constant soundtrack underline how much fun Cassandra is having. Jenkins he has a mullet isn’t seen much, but when he is, he appears a little overwhelmed, maybe by the sex itself, or the beauty of the lady he’s having it with, or how his hairpiece went out of style two decades earlier. It’s good acting, anyway, and done with adequate amounts of enthusiasm.
Welcome, watchers. Pause a while, for here’s adventure, dungeon style…
At 04:43 there is an interesting up-close bum shot. It’s a transition between sex positions, but it’s very close and very apparent for about a second. Thought I’d mention that.
Cassandra spends the rest of the scene riding Jenkins in the more classic front-on “cowgirl” astride position. As with before, there are plenty of noises, a fair amount of bouncy energy, and of course plenty of skin (by now she has fully disrobed, so we get boobs as well).
And then they kiss, which is kind of gross, before a pan to the city through the window once more… and fade out.
So, the big question: do I like this scene? Well, sort of. I like the set-up well enough, and the aforementioned urgency leading to the fun energetic sex make for a good scene. Both characters are clearly enjoying themselves here, and the fact that they’re not doing anything other than enjoying themselves also helps. Sex is presented here as just a break from doing anything else… AS IT SHOULD BE!
Venus is hella pretty, so here she is, in all her glory.
A special note goes to the soundtrack. As I’ve mentioned before, Venus moans a lot, and you can even hear their bodies slapping together (making the dull thud, you know the one). There’s a piece of music undercutting the whole scene, which is reminiscent of both other softcore scenes from the period and video game boss fights, but it’s at no point intrusive or distracting.
In fact, the only thing (other than Burke Morgan, who has a mullet) this scene does for which it can’t be reasonably excused is go on for too long. The whole thing is more than seven minutes and comprises of oral sex, riding in one position and then riding in another position. In real life this wouldn’t be wildly unrealistic; in soft porn, however, it genuinely seems like too little variation in too much time. It’s odd, and although genuinely hot, it does kind of drag after the first five minutes.
This is good; can you do something different, please?
ILB’s Brain at 05:13
Having said that, there’s nothing too wrong with this. Morgan, who does seem very old here, is okay, and Venus is gorgeous, so it’s easy on the eye… and, as I’ve mentioned, the contrast between the warm room and the dark city outside adds a bit more depth and dimension that there otherwise would be.
There could just be a little more done in a little less time, really, and due to the fact that I’m a big fan of longer scenes, that genuinely is saying something!
With thanks to friendly reader SA, who recommended the scene to me.
I spent a large amount of time hating myself for not writing a blog post. It is, however, Tuesday, and I remembered quite late in the day that there is a quick and easy meme available for my disposal that I used to do every week.
What I didn’t realise was that I have, in fact, been incredibly introspective all day, and so my fun little confessional meme is presented here as a visceral, raw exposé of my deepest flaws.
Let’s Play!
1. What’s for breakfast?
This morning I was genuinely sinful and actually ordered McDonald’s breakfast. I had it delivered to my flat and everything.
There’s a reason for this.
Last night I didn’t sleep well. In all honesty, I’m not sure if I slept at all. I went to bed at about 9:30, convinced that I felt tired, whereas in actuality I genuinely wasn’t. I was labouring under the impression that I would just fall asleep – which I didn’t – and, that, if not, I could entertain myself until I did. Which I couldn’t.
What did happen was that I spent hours mentally beating myself up about the failure of my first relationship. What happened, how I handled it, and the eternal question – why? I should have moved past this, of course – I was 18 when this happened – but it comes to me at night. Terrified to move into another room as I felt the creeping night surround me, I huddled there in my bed, unsure, uncertain and full of self-doubt and unresolved trauma.
And that’s why I ordered McDonald’s. Because I needed something quick, easy, and indulgent.
2. Three words you don’t want to hear during sex?
“Call me names.”
I’m genuinely not good at dirty talk, and especially not on command. My second girlfriend used to say this during sex, and it immediately put me on the spot: I didn’t really want to call her anything, in case it was the wrong thing – even during sex, one can be insulted.
The worst thing is, of course, that I’m meant to be good with words. I just can’t be that good all the time.
3. Stupid shit you shouldn’t do but do anyway? List two.
Only two?
(i) I pee in the basin, and then wash it up afterwards. I’m genuinely self-conscious about the fact that I occasionally miss the toilet and end up with pee on the floor, which of course I clean up, but it seems like my control is getting worse. Sometimes – like immediately following orgasm – it doesn’t even go in a straight line; it’s more like a spray. The basin is, essentially, safer.
(ii) I spend a huge amount of time every day fantasising about being in a band that doesn’t exist.
I’ve got it figured out in my head. Mane Jr. is on drums. Robinson plays bass; Lovely is on the keys. Weightlifter is at the front shredding lead guitar and singing backing vocals, while Mane thrums rhythm guitar and sings lead vocals. I’m at the back with a couple of synthesisers and card table full of percussion, adding all the strange ethereal sounds and adding backing vocals to boot. I’m also the producer, and I do the spoken word introduction.
This band doesn’t exist and it never will. Those people can genuinely play those instruments as well, so it’s not impossible to imagine.
To me, though, it’s practically real. If a song comes on on my iPod, it’s us playing it. If I hear something in a shop, I start working out who would do what part. If it doesn’t fit into a set, maybe it’s something we’d try in rehearsal, or do spontaneously in the middle of a street, like Glee.
But it’s never going to happen, so I’ll never live it. I have to do so in my head, and I do. Every day.
4. One thing you love to hate?
Gladiator.
I genuinely don’t get it. It won all sorts of awards and everyone seems to love it except me. I find the film genuinely boring – it’s nothing but fight after fight after fight – and yet nobody else seems to say this!
This isn’t the only film I have an adverse reaction to. I dislike Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I didn’t like the American translation of Howl’s Moving Castle, and I’ve never liked Titanic, even when it first came out. Nobody agrees with me on these.
But then again, I like the Star Wars prequels, so I’m not one to talk.
One does have to wonder, at points, how creative types get their ideas. Consider, for example, the lead actress in this scene, and why the words “Pristine Edge” were her chosen moniker. The title certainly works, but as for how she came up with it, I’m not sure.
The same can be said for the production company behind Vixens from Venus (Retromedia Entertainment), who clearly thought they had a winner with this plot.
Look at all those gadgets! Do you see? SCIENCE!
Venusians Zonondor, Zorax and Zimbabwe (couldn’t they have chosen a name which wasn’t already the name of something else?) beam down to Earth and temporarily take the bodies of sexy young women Felicity, Piper and Violet respectively. They are greeted by three of “Earth’s top scientists” – Doctors Edwards, Grayson and Kline (plus their assistant Charlie) – whose intention is to study them.
The Venusians’ aim is to escape any information about them getting out, in an attempt to preserve their utopian society. Quite how they know it’s a utopia I’m not entirely sure, since I’m fairly certain Utopia did not have a print run on Venus, but then there are more pressing matters, such as why they speak English.
Or why they came down in the first place.
Or why they feel they need to have sex to rob the scientists’ memories.
Or where Zimbabwe went. She’s by far the most attractive character in this and she’s hardly in it.
But let’s not worry about that.
Appearance: Vixens from Venus (2016) Characters: Dr. Kline & Dr. Grayson
Grayson and Kline appear to be romantically involved.
Felicity / Zonondor
Zonondor has a delicate way of putting things, it seems, since she’s just walked in on Grayson and Kline having sex on a table.
As it turns out, the Venusians need to sleep with all three scientists in order to complete their mission. Doctors Grayson and Kline are engaged (although neither of them is wearing a ring – tisk, tisk), and after their colleague Edwards has been incapacitated (after foolishly sleeping with Zonondor), they decide that the best way to let off steam is to fuck on top of the sanitised table in their study room. This they do.
Twice.
Before the plot moves on, really. This is, of course, a Retromedia Entertainment trope – overlong sex scenes with very attractive people with a plot set around them – the problem being that by this point I was invested in said plot, so there wasn’t a reason not to spool through them! Aaaaargh!
Ahem. As I was saying.
The thingy on the right is a teleportation device, complete with… bowling pins?
So. This scene takes place in a lab, by which I mean a set which has illuminated screens which show very little, gadgets that don’t do anything but beep and blink, and what look like 1950s-era sound reel-to-reel tape players. At the very least it doesn’t take long for the doctors to disrobe… because it all happens in a mix cut. There’s a brief kiss and then an immediate mix to Grayson giving Kline oral sex. No time wasted there. Very efficient scientists, clearly.
I’ve mentioned how lengthy the scenes are, and this is a bit of a problem. As attractive as Pristine Edge might be (and she is, she’s absolutely stunning), watching her get eaten out for over a minute and a half seems to slow time down a little. There isn’t really any variation in the position it happens, nor in her reaction, nor in McLane’s “half-a-face” expression. It’s just naked Kline on a table for a length of time which could be a whole scene on its own.
One of Edge’s facial expressions… oh, and a chair, for whatever reason.
There is an interesting cut to the Venusians discussing their plan in the middle of the scene, which provides a refreshing break (and a glimpse of Dillion Harper as Violet/Zimbabwe, which definitely kept me interested), and when we cut back, Grayson and Kline are now having penetrative sex. It’s quite a clever way to show a shift (in location as well as activity; they’re now on the opposite side of the table, yes I do notice these details shut up). It’s fairly energetic and regularly bouncy, and although this also lasts for a long time, the regular cuts between different angles, quick pace of the sex and Edge’s range of naughty facial expressions (she does a good open-mouthed smile thing which I recognise from actual sex) helps keep the momentum up.
There are even some moments which your average sex scene wouldn’t consider. They look into each other’s eyes and at one point attempt a messy kiss. It’s not a romantic scene, but if you really try, you can almost imagine they’re a real couple.
Almost.
After a while, Zonondor walks in, watches for a bit, and then smiles and exits. Fantastic – voyeurism. Let’s add that to the list of social issues this film has.
This is what Zonondor sees. His washboard stomach is putting me off, somewhat.
What you can’t see (or hear) is that, throughout this entire scene, there is a strange pop track playing… with vocals. The lyrics aren’t very inspired (choice cuts include “I need your love” and “I want your love), but the track also includes various orgasm noises at points. They aren’t at all related to what’s going on on screen, which throws off the rhythm somewhat. Plus, if I’m listening to the lyrics, how am I meant to be enjoying the sex? There’s only one of me!
The main thing, however, is that throughout this scene, and the successive one and the one after that (and one later in the movie), all of which feature Pristine Edge, she is genuinely the one carrying the weight. Throughout the film, she neither looks nor acts like a scientist, but she gives every performance her absolute all – her facial expressions (whether lustful, cunning, or pleasantly vacant once she has been incapacitated), the way she moves her body, her cute little nose piercing and famous “four hearts” tattoo. She is fantastic at what she does, and despite the fact that the script does nothing for her character except gets her naked, she really brings the performance to life.
This isn’t Pristine Edge, but I think Dillion Harper is beautiful, so I’m putting this here.
I have an issue with Vixens from Venus, insofar as the message it gets across. It has some very questionable ethics behind it in terms of gender rôle, social class, race division and a wholly unnecessary method employed by the aliens (and one scene which could be considered sex without consent), and – essentially – a plot which, look good as it may on paper, is sort of forgotten about in the second half.
So I do have to say, essentially… yeah, the sex is good, but just… just… don’t.
I like hotels. I mean, everyone seems to like a good hotel, but I just like hotels in general. I booked into a budget hotel, once, with my first girlfriend for about £30 just because I could. My second girlfriend and I took an alarming number of mini-breaks throughout our relationship; my third and I once stayed for an entire week in the same hotel room (which we barely left).
With my current girlfriend, hotels have been an important part of our relationship. Early on, before we had announced that we were together (we got together about a month after my previous relationship ended, so the timing wasn’t great), we had nowhere to go and, as a result, I became quite skilled, quite quickly, at finding – at short notice – an affordable hotel.
I’ve also stayed in hotels on my own. Sometimes I’m going somewhere; sometimes I’m staying somewhere else. I’ve even stayed in hotels at some points just because I can. And then I’ve been abandoned – twice – in hotels.
Hotels and I have a complicated relationship, but when it comes down to it, I think the basics are: I like being taken care of. That’s what hotels do – even if it’s a cheap room in a hotel around the back of King’s Cross where all they do is give you a key and a room number. Room service and complementary breakfasts are one thing, but the fact that you just get a room – a space where, to all intents and purposes, you are free to just be – for a small fee… is nothing short of genius.
Stoppard’s quote (above) works, in a way, but I think it’s much broader than that. In a lot of ways I don’t mind where the hotel room is. I once went around the country staying in hotel rooms by myself for a while, and – although I could orgasm to interactive hentai on my laptop while watching the commuters going to and from St Pancras one day and fall asleep on my back covered in my own cum in central Birmingham the next – the act of being in a room of one’s own put me into a completely different headspace.
Physically, it’s pleasant – a nice bed, free hot drinks, good breakfast if you’re lucky, excellent sex if you have someone with you – but, mentally, being in a hotel gives me a complete disconnect from everything else.
In a hotel, you are allowed, without judgement, to just be, even if you have had to pay for the privilege.
Sex without love is as hollow and ridiculous as love without sex.
hunter s. thompson
While I can’t speak for everyone, I’ve certainly had both of these.
The very easy thing to get out of the way is that the very first time I had sex, and the hundred-plus time afterwards, I was definitely having sex with love – that is to say, I was having sex with someone I was in love with. Sex was a big part of our relationship, and the same was true of my second relationship (which was also “sex with love”, although sex of a more adventurous variety). In fact, half the people I’ve had sex with have been people I’ve loved. I’m very lucky in that respect.
Sex without love has also been fun, although for a very different reason. Louise, Alicia, Lilly and snowdrop all had their reasons for sleeping with me (even if “I was horny and he’s got a dick” was the simple reason). All four were highly sexual people and the knowledge that there was no real commitment other than “satisfy this person” (and I did satisfy them, believe me!) both jarred with my monogamy-centred lifestyle and excited my own sexual self.
My aim was, and has always been and always will be, to ensure that anyone I have sex with enjoys it. Sex goes wrong every now and again – of course it does, everything does – but, if you can accept the person you’re making love to, you can accept the occasional fuck-up (and be aware of your own as well). I like to please – I’m desperate to do so – and so there is, in fact, a common thread here, no matter who I’m having sex with, or why.
Love without sex is different.
I’m in a relationship which is, to all intents and purposes, sexless. This may be slightly ridiculous to say when the relationship started during sex, but it is true. I’m still interested in sex (well, of course I am, I’m a sex blogger, silly), but they are not, or at least not any more.
I’m not entirely sure why – various reasons have been thrown about, ranging from health complications to relationship anxiety to depression to physical weakness to the way they put it the other day – “I’m just disgusted by sex, the idea repels me. It’s not you, it’s sex itself. I don’t like it any more.” To this point, we haven’t been intimate for weeks, and we haven’t had penetrative sex for years. I’ve genuinely lost count of how long it’s been.
I’m not going to press the point, though, as it’s a touchy subject – nor am I going to put them under any pressure. If they don’t want to have sex, they don’t have to, and I’m not going to try to change that, as it’s their prerogative.
My sex life now consists of pleasuring myself. Since I don’t have sex with anyone else, I’m not having sex at all, and with thestrange waysmy sexual desiresmanifestthemselves being more apparent as a result, I control and temper myself with masturbation – although I don’t always get the time to do that either! I can easily slip into sexual fantasies or explicit half-dreams, but again, when I can’t actually do anything about it, it’s…
…well, yeah, it’s difficult, of course it is.
A cis female friend recently told me about a conversation she had where the other conversationalist (who I don’t know but is also a cis woman) was presented with the same situation – monogamous couple, no sex for boy – and straight-up said, “he’d probably just leave, that’s what men do.”
I could never imagine leaving. I completely, truly, deeply, one hundred per cent love the person I am with, and the fact that we’re not having sex doesn’t change that.
So, no, I don’t agree with Hunter S. Thompson.
Sex without love is fun. Love without sex is possible.
