Tag: five things

#FiveThings: Stripped

May 29, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 2 Comments

“Mum,” I said to my mum over dinner, “can I start sleeping naked?”

I was 12. Up until that point I had been wearing the same glow-in-the-dark Super Mario Bros. pyjamas since the age of about six. I hadn’t ever considered wearing anything else in bed, and wasn’t even aware of the concept of sleeping naked, which is why I was surprised when Robinson mentioned it.

I ploughed on with my reasons before she could answer:

1) I wanted to be more efficient.

I would have a bath most nights just before bed (these days, with my bad skin, I have a shower, but the principle is the same). Towelling off, drying my hair and getting straight into bed would be practical – see also getting up in the night to use the loo, and getting dressed in the mornings. It saved precious seconds.

2) My pyjamas were getting a bit old.

I’m very fond of wearing the same clothes for years on end (as I’ve mentioned before, I still have some of my clothes from my teens), and – fond though I was of my Mario pyjamas – they were beginning to wear a bit. I didn’t have any other pyjamas. Hypothetically, I could have just asked for more, but I didn’t think that f ahead.

3) This was a totally new concept to me…

…and I can’t leave anything that new alone.

But there’s another reason. I was going to a walking weekend with Woodcraft soon afterwards and I was only planning to take one item: a map of the area (or any area, I wasn’t actually going to use it) with the lyrics to the Pinky and the Brain theme tune hand-written on the back. You know, this one:

When Robinson pointed out that I’d at least have to take nightwear with me, I waivered a bit, until he added, “or are you going to be sleeping naked?”.

Thanks, friend.

4) I wanted to sleep naked at the Woodcraft walking weekend.

So I didn’t need to take anything other than the map-and-Pinky-and-the-Brain-lyrics combo. It only occurred to me later on that I would also need to take a couple of changes of clothes, a warm jumper, a raincoat, a pair of sturdy walking boots, a water bottle and a backpack to carry it all in.

My mother predictably said no to this. When the first day ended up being 22 miles, including through a dark forest, as opposed to the 15 they first mentioned, I was actually quite fond of my warm jumper and raincoat.

5) I was genuinely really lazy.

Okay, there are other reasons.

A couple of years later I would start to notice my body changing. The body heat you generate from sleeping naked is more noticeable than that which you do in pyjamas, so I found myself sleeping warmer. Until the age of about 16, I slept with my head under the covers too (so that my attackers wouldn’t notice me), and that was bare, so it was much easier to co-ordinate.

At the age of 17, I started having sex, and obviously then wearing anything else was completely out of the question. At university, it was much easier to have a morning orgasm (or one later in the day…) if I wasn’t wearing anything to begin with.

But at 12, I didn’t think of any of this. I just had the idea, so I asked my mother over dinner.

So I slept naked. I started that night and have done so almost every night since. Two years later, my parents bought me a new pair of pyjamas for Christmas (which I still wear now, for staying at others’ places or at camp or pyjama day at work – they never get any other action!), and then a few years ago a Mario onesie (as a kind of nostalgia effort, perhaps?).

If it’s really cold, of course, I’ll wear my Mario pants.

#FiveThings / #KOTW: Clothes

April 14, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 2 Comments

Since I’ve been struggling to think of things to write, I’m once again grateful for the existence of Five Things. MPB has been unwell for a while, which means that the meme appeared to have stalled for a while. It’s back tomorrow, and there’s an accidental crossover with an upcoming Kink of the Week, so I can be a massive troll and take part in both memes before the link parties open.

ILB, you crafty little rascal.

Anyway, so, clothes. I can do that. I wear clothes.

1) My Look

I don’t really have what could be termed a ‘look’. Throughout my life I’ve stuck to casual wear as often as possible – ranging from tracksuits to combat trousers. I wear T-shirts most of the time, as well, as opposed to shirts – which I wear to work – and I’ll generally put on the first thing I can find, without making some sort of attempt to co-ordinate.

I also don’t tend to source my clothes from any particular place. I hardly ever buy any – I sometimes get a few for Christmas. Some of my favourite clothes have been in my possession for as long as I can remember, and some I’ve owned since I was 14!

If you’ve met me at Eroticon, you’ll probably have noticed that I turn up in a flannel shirt. Rose once tried to talk me out of wearing it to Erotic Meet, so I didn’t. I tried to stop her, but she overpowered me!

2) Not My Look

I strenuously resist, and will continue to resist, fashionable clothes. Despite knowing people who work in the industry – and I even went to a Viktor & Rolf exhibition once – I’ve never become attached to the idea of being a fashion victim.

Throughout my adolescence and young adulthood I made a conscious effort to not appear fashionable. I wore the most outdated things I could find and, if something suddenly appeared to be ‘in’, I stopped wearing it. Until the age of about 12 or 13 my garment of choice was an oversized Super Mario Bros. 2 tee, often coupled with blue shorts.

I’ve never been cool and have no desire to be, so why try?

3) Rock ’em, sock ’em

In an attempt to placate the vague implications of participating in KOTW.

When I was a child I never wore socks. I once asked my mother why African tribesmen in TV dramas never wore footwear and she said something about having tough feet due to walking through deserts. While I’m not sure that was actually true, I spent years attempting to toughen my feet by going barefoot while playing my adventure games in the garden or alleyway behind my house.

Cartoon of ILB wearing nothing but a pair of blue pants and bright green socks, typing on a laptop. — Green socks.
I’m not even sure if I own any.

Which is ironic, really, because socks are my favourite clothes. I don’t have any special ones – they’re mostly black, grey, or blue. But I like the way they feel – they keep in the large amount of heat one loses through the soles of one’s feet, they are pleasantly soft and comfortable, and the few times I’ve had sex wearing them, it’s always been pleasant…

I’ve also appeared in ES Magazine wearing nothing but pants and a pair of socks! (I’ve tried to tell my family this, but they didn’t believe me.) It’s not a fantastic likeness, though; a quick glance at the issue reminds me that I look more like the bloke on the next page whom GOTN is trying to seduce.

4) My Colour

I don’t have a colour, as such.

Some people do. My fiancée wears nothing but black (yes, I know black isn’t a colour); my youngest cousin favours vibrant colours including bright green hair and yellow nail varnish. My uncle wears Hawaiian shirts. I don’t really do any of those.

Most of my clothes are blue, grey, blue-grey, dark green, or khaki. It’s not a deliberate attempt to do anything, but it does tend to suit my mood. I’m struggling now to think if I’ve ever owned anything yellow. I don’t like red (the colour; I don’t care what I wear), but I once owned an oversized red jumper with a white stripe down the middle.

Which I’ve just realised is the Austrian flag. Fantastic.

5) …and a sex thing.

Basically in order to fit this into what is ostensibly a sex blog.

I’ve very rarely had sex with any clothes on, although it’s occasionally just happened. My favourite trope, despite this, in soft porn is for people to have sex with some of their clothes on – often just their shoes – and my favourite look on a woman is for her to be topless but still wearing blue jeans!

Before I had sex for the first time, my girlfriend and I used to engage in dry sex – that is, the movements (and some of the noises), but with clothes on. It was fun, cheeky, and now that I think about it, probably quite cute.

“Do you know what the problem is?” she said once, as we lay in a tangle.
“No,” I said, worried that she genuinely wasn’t enjoying herself.”
“Clothes,” she said simply.

#FiveThings: Places

March 23, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 3 Comments

Wow, it’s been a long time since I last took part in Five Things. Again, it’s a meme I’ve been aiming to keep up with; it’s just something that falls off my radar every now and again. The cue for this week, however – favourite places – was certainly something that rang a bell for me.

Before I go deaf like Quasimodo, let’s do the meme.

I’m tempted to put my blog down as one of my favourite places, but I’m not sure if you can count this as a place! Anyway, I’ve chosen to categorise these, so here are:

1) My favourite place to holiday is…

The city of Bath. I’m not quite sure why I like Bath so much; I have no connection there via friends or family, but I always feel at home there. It’s a beautiful city, there’s always lots going on, easy to get around (because it’s so small!), and I’ve both visited and even worked there a fair few times. I keep wanting to go back and even made a special trip there once just so I could visit the thermae.

I was once fully intending to move to Bath as soon as I could. Sometimes I wonder what happened to that plan….

2) My favourite place to eat is…

Anywhere, obviously, and I’m very fond of eating at my desk. I have a few favourite restaurants – the Italian place at Victoria Station, The Diner in Camden (where I once spent a lonely hour eating dinner alone in the middle of Eroticon), the local Indian my uncle seems to keep in business by himself – but my favourite place to get food is the tiny eaterie just around the corner from me called La Baguette. It’s not really anything more than a sandwich shop – it has tables, so looks like a café, but I’ve rarely ever sat there. However, I am a simple ho, and can’t ever resist one of their sandwiches, so although that’s not my favourite place to eat food, it’s my favourite place to get it.

And now I’m going to need to go there for lunch, aren’t I?

3) My favourite place to read is…

In my parents’ lounge. Their place, SH, is lovely. It’s small, well-kept, warm, and – importantly – quiet. Despite the fact that it’s only a street away from the last house they had (the on I grew up in), it’s still much more peaceful. There you can’t hear the shrieks and cries from the local primary school, nor can you detect the rumble of the big A-road that goes through our London borough (you can hear it from here – we’re right next to it!). Sitting in a comfy chair in their quiet, warm room is the perfect place to get lost in a book, or indulge in some handheld gaming… as long as my dad doesn’t have the TV on.

4) My favourite place to masturbate is…

In my computer chair.

This is how I learned to masturbate, at university in front of my computer. I don’t often need a lot of stimulus to get hard (although it takes me a while to get off!), but I find that – rather than using it to help – I’m using visual media to enjoy masturbation more. I can get into a situation or story easily enough, but there’s only so much actively engagement I can take! People have used their talent in acting or writing or directing or… whatever… to make arousing media, which I’ve paid money for, so why not enjoy it!

I can also masturbate lying down, or sitting on the toilet, but I don’t find those as easy (in fact, my back pain and disability mean that I can’t lie supine for very long). My computer chair is comfortable (enough – although I need a new one!), and because it’s what I’m used to, it’s what works best for me.

Not that I haven’t masturbated elsewhere, of course!

5) My favourite place to be is…

Part of the cue and I genuinely don’t have an answer to this.

I like to be with my friends and really miss the weekly pizza-and-movie nights we used to have. I don’t mind where we are, to be frank… it’s just that I like to be with them! That’s where home is, right? With the people you love?

Let me know your favourite places. I’ve been inspired by this!

#FiveThings: Journal

January 7, 2022 / Innocent Loverboy / 3 Comments

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.

So I did.

And I still do.