Feedback Friday :: Swelling A Progress

bulk :: 16st 0
cigarettes :: 0
joints:: 0
alcohol units:: 9
swims :: 1
chiropractic visits :: 1
doctor visits :: 1 registration check-up (weigh-in) and 1 proper visit in about an hour
booty calls :: 1
soups made :: 2
fancies tickled :: 1
novels started :: 1 (It's about meeting people on the internet. I am destined to get no further than chapter one.)

Not a bad week all in all. Some ups, some downs.

Mustn’t grumble.

Now, like most bloggers who don’t particularly care for memes, but occasionally submit to ones which tickle their fancy, I feel compelled to begin this post by pointing out that I don’t particularly care for memes, but this one rather tickled my fancy. It consists essentially of 40 unfinished sentences, and I caught up with it here. The main reason it tickled my fancy was because the first sentence began, ‘My uncle once…’ and it reminded me of… well, here it is:

1. My uncle once: undid his zip and pulled out his cock for a drunken group photo with his friends. After he died I found this photograph amongst his possessions and, being fascinated with penis size and fearing myself abnormally small, tore out my uncle’s penis and took it away for private study. My mum later found my dead uncle’s penis in the back pocket of my jeans. She left it on the kitchen table. I snatched it up and took it to my bedroom. In order to properly destroy the evidence of my weirdness, I ended up chewing it up and swallowing it. Conversely, these days I feel no shame.

2. Never in my life: have I fucked an oversized goat.

3. When I was five: I put my head through the bathroom window deliberately and with self-harm aforethought. (Yes, the bathroom window was closed at the time.) (I was mostly unharmed by the glass, but my dad gave me a taste of his belt for the damage.) (Thus causing more damage.) (Silly dad.)

4. High school was: something that happened in America. Still is, I believe, although from what I hear, it ain’t very good. High school kids spend all their time pushing silver dollars into Coca Cola vending machines and learning how evolution is bunkum from text books sponsored by M&Ms. Or so I hear.

5. I will never forget: but hopefully in time I will learn to forgive.

6. Once I met: David Blunkett. I felt strangely comfortable in his presence, but I couldn’t help rolling my eyes when he talked.

7. There’s this girl I know: who made me promise not to fall in love with her. She obviously has an ego the size of Alaska. (And a muff to match.)

8. Once, at a bar: I used a really cheesy line on a really beautiful woman because I was drunk and my best friend dared me, and do you know what she did? I’ll tell you. She pushed out her bottom lip as far as she could with her tongue, opened her eyes really wide and made a long, nonsensical, deep-throated grunting noise, like someone attempting to speak with six fists in their mouth. I believe this is called ‘belming’. I thanked her for her time and returned to my friend, blushing fiercely and wishing quite sincerely that I had never been born.

9. By noon, I’m usually: three socks in. Damn you, YouPorn! (Actually, that’s not true these days. I’m actually four days without YouPorn at the moment. I’m thinking of getting a little counter for my blog, like some towns in Belgium have, but of course in Belgium they read: ‘17 days without a child sex crime’. Mine would read: ‘4 days without soiling a sock whilst watching YouPorn’. And I would feel proud.)

10. Last night: …oh yeah, dammit. More like 6 hours without YouPorn.

11. If only I had: a girlfriend. Everything would be alright.

12. Next time I go to church: presuming I go some time this year, it will be to say, ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been approximately 17 years since my last confession.’ I will prepare an exhaustive list before I go.

13. What worries me most: is failure. And – at the moment at least – stomach cancer.

14. When I turn my head left I see: a cushion where Pablo used to sit and a whole lot of magazines which my flatmate has been trying to get me to throw away. He can fuck off.

15. When I turn my head right I see: an open window, leading to a dirty windowsill, where sits an ashtray which hasn’t been used for a few weeks now. It makes me want to get wrecked.

16. You know I’m lying when: I tell you I honestly couldn’t care less.

17. What I miss most about the Eighties is: watching some of my favourite films for the first time, and learning how to properly escape from reality.

18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be: an attendant lord, one that will do to swell a progress, start a scene or two, advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, deferential, glad to be of use, politic, cautious, and meticulous; full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; at times, indeed, almost ridiculous – almost, at times, the Fool.

19. By this time next year: I hope to be fitter, happier, more productive.

20. A better name for me would be: Walter. I’ve been told I look like a Walter.

21. I have a hard time understanding: Full stop. That sentence is already finished. I do.

22. If I ever go back to school, I’ll: be in grave danger of falling foul of the Prevention of Terrorism Act.

23. You know I like you if: I’m sucking peanut butter out of your anus.

24. If I ever won an award, the first person I would thank would be: Halle Berry.

25. Take my advice, never: stimulate your genitals when you’ve been chopping chillies.

26. My ideal breakfast is: smoked salmon Benedict followed by mango and coconut yoghurt.

27. A song I love but do not have is: I Want To Go Back There Again by BJ Arnau. I had this when I was a kid. It used to belong to my uncle, the dead one with the penis, and I owned the vinyl version for a while and regularly wept to it throughout my teens. Then somewhere along the line, I lost it. I want it back. Indeed, I want to go back there again.

28. If you visit my hometown, I suggest you: BURN IT DOWN.

29. Why won’t people: be just a little less self-centred? Me included.

30. If you spend a night at my house: and happen to be a lovely, bouncy woman, please remember to sneak into my bed in the wee small hours and massage the length of my Johnson with your tongue.

31. I’d stop my wedding for: spontaneous sex with my bride-to-be, then we’d get back to the ceremony and live happily ever after.

32. The world could do without: Keira Knightley’s pout.

33. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: the anus of a cockroach; but I'd rather lick the anus of a cockroach than ever have to look again at Keira Knightley’s pout.

34. My favourite blonde is: Paris Hilton, but only if she’s shaved and stripped of make-up and money, sitting behind the till in a branch of Netto in Peckham, where she belongs.

35. Paper clips are more useful than: Paris Hilton.

36. If I do anything well it’s: self-deprecate. Sorry, that was a rubbish answer.

37. I can’t help but: worry that I’m never going to be given the chance – or ever going to have balls big enough to take the chance – to fulfil any of the potential that I may actually have.

38. I usually cry: at the end of Donnie Darko, particularly the very last shot, when Gretchen and the little boy wave to Mrs Darko. It’s the little boy’s wave that does it. It sings to me of the preciousness of human contact.

39. My advice to my child/nephew/niece: is this: don’t let what other people think stand in your way, and always challenge authority.

40. And by the way: being is other people.



Have a super weekend.

Enough to Put You Off Sex For Life

When I wrote about my first sexual experience a couple of months ago, I mentioned in passing that the second time I had sex was far more disturbing, but that I wasn't ready to tell it yet, 'at least until something else comes along to distance me from it'. That's what I said. Well, here's the news: something else has come along. Something astonishing and wonderful. And something that I absolutely cannot talk about.

So instead, it's probably time to talk about Sue.

I had seen Sue a fair bit in one of the pubs I used to frequent when I lived in another part of London. She was often there with a bunch of mates, being loud, drunken and shrill. I'd be out with one of a couple of old friends, bemoaning the sickening ills of the world. I'd noticed Sue but I didn't think she had noticed me. Her eyes had passed over me for sure, but I didn't think she'd taken me in. That often happens. If you see someone you find physically repellent, you either stop and stare, sometimes pointing and grimacing if you're particularly insensitive. Or else you just look through them; they're invisible to you.

I'd noticed Sue partially because she was so annoying and shrill, and partially because, despite myself, I was really attracted to her. She was probably a little bit too chavvy for most people's tastes, and dressed a little loose if you know what I mean, a little Jodie Marsh. Plus, facially she was slightly reminiscent of a Riddler. But still, somehow I found her very attractive. Which was why one night, when she rolled over to me, blind drunk at the end of a Friday evening and said, 'Do you wanna come back to my house for sex?', I said, 'Um... yeah, alright'.

Then she kissed me, there in the pub, and her friends cheered and a flash went off. I should have known something was up. But I didn't. I was blinded by what I foolishly imagined was just brilliant luck, and I assumed that Sue was from the 'he's so ugly, he's kind of fascinating' school, a school I'd hitherto believed to be entirely fictional.

She stopped kissing me. Her hands were still on my face, her cold eyes perusing me. Another flash. 'Let's go,' she said. As she led me out of the pub, one of her friends joined us and introduced herself. 'I'm Cathy,' she said. I told her my name and they both giggled. 'Stan!' cried Sue. 'That's brilliant,' she said. 'Absolutely perfect.'

'Perfect,' repeated Cathy.

Out on the street I asked where we were going. 'Not far,' said Sue. Cathy was coming too it seemed. My imagination began to kick in. Surely not. Sue grabbed me and snaked an arm through mine, linking me at the elbow. Cathy did the same with the other arm and we walked down a main road in the cold night. 'This is your lucky night,' said Cathy.

Surely not.

As we walked, Sue and Cathy chatted to each other about people I didn't know, shrieking and giggling like inebriated harpies. I really didn't like them at all. Which means I really shouldn't have gone with them. So maybe I kind of deserved what happened next. Maybe. I just wanted so badly to have sex. I'd only ever had sex with one woman before, with Avril. So I'd never had sex with an able-bodied woman. And it had been over two years. I was desperate.

That is my excuse.

We turned off the main road and onto a side street, stopping at a house with a black and red door. Cathy broke away from me and opened the front door. Sue followed her inside and took off her coat. I was very excited and very nervous. I felt a little sick.

I was led through to the living room and offered a drink. I accepted and both women clattered through to the kitchen, leaving me alone. When they returned, Sue was carrying two hefty glasses of some putrid spirit. I don't know what it was, but it was undiluted and tasted of petrol. I took a sip and winced. Sue knocked back half of her glass and made an unpleasant face. I never saw Cathy again.

'Tell you what, I think I might need the bottle, yeah?' said Sue, then she skipped out of the room again. When she returned, she had a bottle under her arm. 'Come on then,' she said, and I followed her upstairs.

Sue's bedroom was very much how I imagined the bedroom of a prostitute might be. A huge bed, with rather tacky tigerskin blankets, big fluffy pillows and a wrought iron bedstead with ropes and blindfolds and handcuffs hanging from it. The rest of the room was pretty unpleasant – an overflowing chest of drawers, an overflowing dressing table, dirty wallpaper slipping down damp walls. It was also a bit smelly. Sue lit scented candles in an effort - I presumed - to disguise the smell. Opposite the bed was a PC, switched on, that horrible Pythonesque screensaver filling the window with perpetually extending pipes. And there was a webcam sitting on top of the monitor. At the time I thought nothing of it.

Sue then put some soulless soul music on the computer. I believe it was R Kelly. Yet still I didn't flee.

'Do you wanna watch some porn?' she asked.

I shook my head. Not as if to say no, but rather as if trying to understand the question. Did I want to watch porn? Erm… no? I wanted to have sex. 'I think I'm alright for porn actually,' I said.

I was standing by the side of Sue's bed feeling rather awkward. Sue stood up from her computer and moved to the bottom of the bed. 'Come here,' she said. I did so. 'Sit down here,' she said. I sat at the bottom of the bed. Sue climbed onto the bed and positioned herself behind me. She wrapped her arms around me and began to kiss my face. I gasped. I almost couldn't believe it was happening. But it was.

OK, this is where it gets a little graphic. Not massively, but enough to tell the story. I'm sorry if you find it a little grubby. If it's any consolation, I find it a little grubby too.

So Sue was licking and lapping at my face, moaning, clawing at my chest and unbuttoning my shirt, pushing her tongue in my ear, biting my hair and gasping. All the while she was saying stuff like, 'Oh God, yeah, you're so fucking ugly, I love it. You big dirty ugly bastard.' And so on.

Now I'm quite sensitive about my appearance and I'm easily hurt. Having this woman say this to me – even though she was writhing all over me at the time – upset me, and I couldn't hide it. She saw that I was upset and laughed. 'No, don't be hurt,' she said. 'That's what I like about you. I like ugly men.'

Then she stood on the bed, lifted her skirt and pushed herself into my face. With one hand she pulled aside her knickers and with the other she grabbed my head and pushed it against her. 'See how much I like it,' she said. 'Lick me,' she said. 'Put your fingers in me.' I did as I was told.

After some more of that, Sue undressed me. All the while she was gasping and moaning, licking her lips at me and going on about wanting me to have rigorous intercourse with her. She didn't use those words however.

It was a bit much, to be honest. I didn't quite believe it. It was like bad porn. But it was bad porn I was involved in and although she was a little over the top, she was real; she wasn't pixellated. Rather, she was warm and wet; she was all smells, tastes and noises, all over me.

When she pulled off my trousers and reached into my underpants, she got a little bit of a shock. 'Oh. My. God,' she said. Her mouth fell open and she looked at me. 'You never said you had a massive cock,' she said. I shrugged. It's not the sort of thing you just drop into a conversation. Not that we'd ever had a conversation.

Sue's mouth was only the second mouth that had ever conferred oral pleasure upon my penis, and as she slobbered on it, she looked up at me and moaned. She was very spitty was Sue. She spat into her hand and rubbed it all over my penis and balls. She spat onto the head and rubbed it in with her tongue. She looked into my eyes, dribbled down her chin and said, 'I really want your fucking big cock in me.' And then I came. Boof! Just like that. Quite unexpectedly. And rather a lot.

'Sorry about that,' I said, but Sue didn't seem to mind at all. If anything, she was overjoyed. Pushing me back onto the bed, she climbed on top of me, rubbing my sperm into my stomach and chest. 'Move up the bed,' she said. I moved. 'Give me your hands,' she said. I gave.

Then she attached one of the handcuffs and slipped the other round the back of the bars of the bedstead. 'Give me your other hand,' she said. I hesitated. Then I gave her my hand. She cuffed me to the bed. Then she pulled a couple of lengths of sex-rope (as I believe it's called) from behind the bed and tied my feet, one to each corner of the bottom of the bed, tight.

Then she got off me and took off the rest of her clothes. Then she opened a drawer in a bedside table and pulled out some kind of kitchen implement. A long headed spatula. I recognised it as an IKEA spatula. She used it to slap my stomach. 'Ow,' I said. She slapped me again, harder. 'OW!' I said. It stung. As the stinging sensation subsided, it was replaced by a slightly cold shiver as a wave of panic coursed through me. I suddenly realised I was in an incredibly vulnerable and potentially dangerous situation.

Sue then produced an mp3 player and pushed the headphones into my ears. She turned on the music. It was the Teaches of Peaches CD. What on earth was going on? I said, 'What are you doing?' but I couldn't hear my own voice over the music. Then Sue lifted my head and popped a blindfold over my eyes. Then she wrapped something that I later discovered to be a bandage around and around my head, holding the blindfold and the earphones in place. My arms above my head began to ache. I wanted to be released.

I was scared.

But then she began to tease me, biting me, licking me, spitting on me, sucking, and occasionally slapping me with the spatula, and I became aroused. The fact of being deaf and blind seemed to both dull and sharpen the sensations simultaneously. Sometimes Sue would get off the bed and I had no idea where she was or what was coming next. Sometimes minutes would pass and nothing happened. Slowly my penis would lose its rigidity and my scrotum would tense and shrivel in the cold calm of the moment. Not knowing what was going to happen next was both terrifying and exciting. It was charged. I felt on the verge of panic. Then suddenly there'd be ice on my testicles, hot candle wax on the shaft of my cock or some kind of greased-up butt plug being shoved violently in and out of my anus.

And scared though I was, I can't deny that it was very, very exhilarating. I'd never known anything like it.

Then she'd climb on me, lower her nether regions onto my face and her face onto my nether regions. Then she'd slide down my body and impale herself on me. Then she'd ride me roughly, violently, causing just as much pain as pleasure. I'd never been so much at someone's mercy before, and I can't deny that I liked it.

I realised just as soon as it started happening that I was having unsafe sex. I said something, but I didn't hear what I said and Sue made no attempt to answer me. As far as I know. I do know for sure however that she didn't stop to put a condom on me. If I'm completely honest, I think the threat of AIDS probably turned me on a bit too.

People are weird.

At some stage Sue was licking and sucking on my left nipple and I began to feel something wet and warm on my penis. Sue moved down my body, kissing her way down to my nethers. Then before she got there I felt my penis slipping into a mouth and being sucked and bitten. I cried out. Then another mouth took over. Then I was passed back and forth from mouth to mouth.

Was this Cathy? Someone else?

Not knowing what was going on was disconcerting as hell, but hot. So hot in fact, that with two tongues wriggling over the end of my penis, I came again.

Than I had some of my own sperm spat into my mouth.

People are really weird.

It didn't stop there however. Slowly, once again, I was teased back to life, more or less - I'd lost a lot of feeling by this stage and was finding it difficult to tell - but things continued for another half hour or so. Then, quite suddenly, the music was stopped in the middle of a song. Then my head was unbandaged and the blindfold and earphones removed. Sue stood beside the bed, looking at me, not smiling. At the foot of the bed was a tall thin man with white spiky hair and a video camera pointed at me.

I looked at him, shook my head, looked up at Sue.

'What's going on?' I asked.

'You're gonna be fucking famous, mate,' said the guy with the camera in a thick Scouse accent.

Sue leant over me and unlocked the handcuffs. I sat up, soothed my aching arms and tried to massage some feeling back into them.

'What are you talking about?'

'You've just made your first porn film,' said the guy. 'You're a fucking porn star, mate. A fat fucking ugly fucking porn star.'

Sue untied my feet.

'What?' I said. 'You… you can't do that.'

'Done it, mate,' said the guy. 'It's done and dusted and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' I said. At which point the guy put down the camera and pulled a Leatherman knife out of a back pocket. He took out the blade, came round the side of the bed and stuck it under my chin. He did all this very quickly. 'What did you say?' he said. 'What did you fucking say?' He was all chains, piercings and tattoos by the way. He was - at a guess - something of a psychopath.

'OK,' I managed. 'Take it easy.'

'Just get him the fuck out of here, Tom,' said Sue, and with that she picked up some clothes and left the room.

'You wanna watch your fucking mouth, son,' said Tom. 'How much money have you got?'

When I didn't answer, he headbutted and slapped me.

Eventually I was allowed to get dressed and leave the house. Tom went through my pockets and found out where I lived. 'Mention this to anyone,' he said, 'and somebody will come round to your house, and they'll kill ya.' Then he took £20 from my pocket and pushed me out the front door.

I walked quickly until I was out of sight of the front door, then I stood still, took out my phone and called the police. I explained exactly what had happened, adding that I'd been robbed and threatened with a knife.

The police arrived within ten minutes. I was still there. I met them at the front door. Tom tried to make a run for it through the back garden, but was caught and arrested. Sue was arrested too. I spent most of the next day making statements and looking for somewhere new to live. I stayed with friends for four days, then moved to a different part of London. Three months later I had an AIDS test. I was fine.

I found out from the police that Tom and Sue's house was full of porn they'd shot. They produced ultra-low quality DVDs and flogged them in pubs and over the internet. They had a site. They were DIY pornographers. As far as I could piece together they were trying to put together a series of films featuring ugly men. Beauty and the Beast stuff. They'd made one previously. It was for sale online. It was called Ugly Fuckers. Part One. I was to be Part Two.

I felt like a donkey in a real bestiality film. Except of course I'd consented.

I still fear that some day, somehow, that film is going to turn up on the internet somewhere. Every now and then, I search 'ugly' on YouPorn expecting to see myself tied to a bed, bandaged, buggered and loving it. Whenever it's not there, I feel enormous relief. And a tiny, tiny part of me feels disappointed.

People are absolutely fucking mental.

I've only told two other people this story before. I'm not overly proud of it. In fact, I'm more proud of having a kitten lick my glans than I am of this.

Oh, one good thing to come out of it was a visit from a Victim Support lady, which I wasn't expecting and then completely forgot about. Then, about 15 months later, I received a cheque for over £800. That made it almost entirely worthwhile. Almost.

So, after that experience, I swore to myself that even if it took another two years, I wanted the next woman I got naked with to actually like me, even just a little bit.

In the end it did take another two years.

But she did like me.

So that's good.