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Sinful Sunday: Fun With Flags

Maybe this isn’t quite what Dr Sheldon Cooper had in mind, but I can think of nothing I’d rather do with a nice stiff flagpole than have someone plunge it deep into my own (kinda) virgin territory.

Who wants to come and claim it?

flag v2

(I’d be lying if I said that my heart didn’t sink a little when I saw this month’s prompt. It’s not that I don’t think sex and laughter belong together; more that for various reasons the idea of trying to take a photo that was both funny and in some way erotic was not one I approached with relish! However, sometimes it’s good to venture outside one’s comfort zone, I guess.)

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Sinful Sunday: Routines

However much one may wish to do so, as a human it is hard not to become a creature of habit. We buy our clothes at the same stores, eat at the same local restaurants, pick up the same bottle of wine from the same off-license on the same night each week. Routine is an easy and comforting cloak to wear, and that is true in a sexual context as well.

Nine times out of ten I masturbate in bed, lying on my (right-hand) side. I squeeze lube into my hand, wrap it round my cock, mentally select a fantasy, and a few minutes later I’m sprawled across the mattress with cum splashed across my stomach. It’s a routine: it’s not meant to be sexy!

The one time in ten? Always sexy. Maybe it’s in the toilets at work, after the hot secretary has brushed her arse against my crotch in the cramped, claustrophobic kitchenette. Maybe it’s on a train, facing my girlfriend in a half-empty carriage, each watching the other’s hand move frantically under the formica table between us, as we race to find out who can come first. Maybe it’s in an aeroplane toilet, or in a library, or on the beach when I’m 15 and have never felt so wonderfully alive.

Or maybe it’s just on my sofa one night, when I wasn’t planning to masturbate, but suddenly find myself unable to keep my hands off my cock, and unwilling to delay things for long enough to move into the bedroom. Yeah, that’s pretty hot too.

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Sinful Sunday: Shower with me?

I’ve had sex in the sea, sex in a swimming pool, sex in the bath, and – surprise, surprise – sex in the shower too. I can do sex in water…but it’s not really my thing. There’s just a bit too much friction, and not quite enough of the sexy, silky lubrication that sends shivers all over my body. I took this photo just as the shower jets kicked into life and started shooting warm water at my naked torso. I thought of you kneeling in the cubicle doorway, close enough to feel the spray on your face; close enough to watch my cock get harder in my hand, and to want it – crave it – in your mouth. The thing is, I’d want that too. Sure, I’d make you watch me for a bit, your sopping wet cunt pulsing uncontrollably…mm, ok, so it would be more than just a bit…but when I really needed you to touch me, I’d drag you out of the shower and maybe – maybe – we’d make it halfway back to my room. There’s this rug, you see, right in the middle of my hallway. It would feel just soft enough against your knees. Not comfortable, perhaps, but you’d live. I’d be dripping wet and you…you would take me in your mouth, wrap your hand around me, press my cock to your cheek. Taste and smell my clean, fresh skin, then do your best to make me dirty all over again.

shower

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Sinful Sunday: Doorway

Two photos this week, though the first one is the ‘official’ entry and the second more of a bonus shot, after I spent too long messing around with the camera. Sometimes I like to take my time over removing my clothes, whether I’m about to jump in the shower, get changed to go out, or have sex. I also really love being watched as I strip – watched, and in some cases directed.

“Take your shirt off. No, slower. That’s it…one more button, then I want you to touch yourself for me…”

Mm. Hot.

Maybe there’s someone else on the bed in this first photo, and maybe there isn’t. Maybe I’m heading for the bathroom in the second photo, and maybe there’s a woman in the doorway to my bedroom, ordering me to follow her as I peel off my t-shirt. Either way, the ritual of taking off one item of clothing at a time, till I’m completely naked, is what I was thinking about this afternoon, as the snow fell outside my window.

doorway

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Greenhouse

My next-door neighbour moved back to Austria on Thursday, and – along with a whole crate of booze – left me with her six house-plants. I live in the city centre, which right now is pretty cold and bleak; greys and browns dominate, with green an increasingly rare sight. That’s why, as I watered the plants this afternoon, I felt a sudden surge of happiness; when I got to this guy, and felt the weak sunshine streaming through the window and moving over my bare skin, a tingle ran through my body. I thought about rolling around in the high summer grass; about swimming naked in rivers, and fucking against a tree in the woods.

The snow is due to set in next week, but however bad the weather gets over the next couple of months, summer and all its sexy possibilities will never feel far away, as long as I’m surrounded by such greenery.

Gardening

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Sinful Shaving

It’s not often I feel nervous about posting something, but this will be the first time for a while that I’ve put up a photo this explicit, and that’s brought with it mixed emotions. I’m aware that cock shots aren’t everyone’s cup of tea; this post does a good job of summing up some of their limitations, and I do understand most of the stronger objections to them. When I started this blog, I wasn’t really bothered by that: posting some of the pictures you’ll find in the archives made me feel more confident about my body, and tapped into an exhibitionistic urge that I hadn’t previously found an outlet for.

More recently, it’s had a greater impact on the choices I’ve made here (and on Twitter), as has the urge to focus more on writing (with mixed success). When I have posted photos for Sinful Sunday, they’ve tended to be more suggestive than explicit, and I’ve enjoyed responding to that need for greater creativity.

Today though…today, I wanted to use this photo. I’m in my 30s now, and while lots of things turn me on, a decade of sexual experience has created a split between controllable/manufactured arousal, and the sort of rush-of-blood-to-the-head, primal arousal that’s predominant when everything’s fresh and new. If that sounds world-weary, it’s not meant that way: it’s just that familiarity tends to dull the sharp edge of most activities/sensations, including sex. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and on balance I like having at least a *little* more control over my libido than I did when I was 21 – still, it does make me appreciate the things that buck the trend.

One of those is shaving my pubic hair; another is the feeling of being freshly-shaved. Both the act and its outcome leave me hyper-sensitive, flushed, and largely incapable of keeping my hands off my cock. I don’t do it very often: my hair doesn’t grow especially quickly, so I can afford to leave it a while before it gets untidy…and besides, it’s such an exciting feeling that I like to savour it, and to preserve the power it has. I use an electric shaver, and leave enough hair that it still feels soft over the skin, rather than spiky or stubbly. I’ve never asked someone else to do it for me, and no-one has ever volunteered; for now, it remains a personal ritual, and one that tends to result in a very quick, very intense orgasm, often followed soon after by another one. I haven’t thought too much about why it turns me on so much, and to be honest I don’t particularly want to – I’m happy just to enjoy it.

This photo was taken just after I’d shaved, and just before I masturbated. I hope you like it. If you don’t, I hope you understand why I posted it.

Shaved

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Mile High

Mile High

Because I always pay attention to the short safety demonstration.

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Thrill Seeker

It was National Poetry Day this week, and the Sinful Sunday theme is Back To School. I loved English as a schoolboy for many reasons, one of which was the access it gave me to poetry in its many forms. One of those forms was haiku:

Coming? Going? Huh:
The thrill-seeker does both with
Total abandon

Thrill Seeker

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A firm grip…

firm grip

…on the lube bottle. An excellent companion in the early hours of a (Sinful) Sunday morning.

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Sinful Sunday: Getting Wood

Sinful Sunday