@AngryAussie and I love to have a little fun with our vids... This time we roped in the delicious @ViolaTurtleDove to come play too!
The shop I work in has heaps of funky costumes and so we decided to show some of them off... And then we made a video!
Enjoy!!
Blow-up dolls can be so much fun, and a little bit funny too.
Join AngryAussie, AIDzee and me as we look at some of the best ones!
Like I’ve said before - and will probably say again - everyone has fantasies and fetishes, and everyone’s idea of what is sexy or a turn on is different. Some of them I totally understand and share myself, others I can see why it’s a turn on but they personally do nothing for me, and then there are the ones that either gross me out a bit or completely mystify me.
I’ve encountered so many different fantasies and fetishes since I started working - indulging in (and enjoying) quite a few - and it’s rare that I ever come across something that I haven’t at least heard of. In saying that, though, there are so many variations and different aspects to sexual fantasy that each one is as individual as the person who desires it.
Some are more of the visual sort; watching porn, dressing up, putting on a show, mirrors and things like that.
Like I remember I used to see this guy, Dan, who loved watching me play with a vibrator. Of course, that isn’t a rare request at all, but Dan was the first person I’d ever met that wanted to watch me do it on the kitchen table while he made pasta. Always pasta. I never found out why.
There are fantasies about specific body parts like toes, arses, belly buttons and nipples – One guy I met would come by getting me to squeeze on his earlobes as he fucked me, another loved me to tickle his feet with my hair.
For some people there needs to be pain and/or control involved; hot wax, fingernails, bondage and discipline, and other people get off on adrenaline and risk – fucking in public, taboo partners (like your wife’s sister, or your daughters piano teacher) and other elicit affairs.
Laura and Max, a couple I once saw, had an appetite for make-up sex. You know, the passion-filled and anger-fuelled fuck you have after an argument. But, because they hardly ever fought for real, they would have these pretend bust-ups about trivial things – the toilet seat being left up, what to watch on TV etc – and sometimes, usually when on holiday, they would have these loud, melodramatic arguments in public full of accusations of betrayal, name calling and lots of crying and flouncing off, before heading back to the hotel for crazy, hardcore make-up sex. In the booking I had with them, Laura “caught” Max and me in the act, resulting in a huge “fight” and some very hot threesome sex. I must admit it felt very strange, sitting naked in the bed while these two went off at each other. It was quite full on. If I hadn't known it was all an act I would have been terrified! She really laid into him!
I have to admit, though, some of them can make me laugh more than anything, and I there have even been a few times when I’ve felt downright silly. Like this guy I (privately) nicknamed Dick Chasey because whenever I’d go to see him the job always started with us getting naked and me chasing him around his house trying to catch him by his dick. Harmless, yes. Embarrassing, very. I don't like to run at the best of times, let alone naked with my boobs bouncing around and my butt all wobbly. But he loved it and I really did enjoy satisfying his itch. Which was always proof to me I was in the right job.
I honestly think, when it comes right down to it, if it’s not hurting anyone (unless of course that’s the fantasy) then there really isn’t anything wrong with a little naked pasta making. Noodle anyone?
This is a People Magazine piece that I've re-jigged and is part of a chapter in my book.
Do you have something sexual you're unable to discuss with your partner? How do you deal with it? What do you do?
Fantasies and fetishes, we all have them, it’s just the way sex is. Everyone has that special little something that helps them reach total sexual fulfilment. If you’re lucky you find a partner who shares your fantasies, or one who at least allows you to indulge, and you never have to worry about unsatisfying sex ever again... But, of course, things are rarely that easy.
Because of the way mainstream society makes the general public think about any kind of sex that isn't straight, hetero, missionary style sex - as in it is dirty, wrong and shameful - people are forced to keep these things inside, quite often to the detriment of their health and happiness
When it comes to marriages and partnerships and commitments it never ceases to amaze me just how many people are afraid to tell the person they love just what it is they need and desire. I always thought one of the best things about being in a relationship with someone was the sharing. The getting to know them. The working out what makes them tick. But, when it comes to sex and fetish, so many people tend keep it to themselves and find alternative ways to satisfy themselves, usually meaning they end up lying, cheating and generally being deceptive to the person they're committed to.
Take Clint for example. He was a guy I used to see almost fortnightly, who absolutely loved it when I'd wear cowboy boots and sit on his back pulling his hair and slapping his arse. Okay sure, to some people that might seem silly (and to be honest it did feel a little silly to do) but it gave him a fantastic orgasm and sense of satisfaction and, when you think about it, it’s totally harmless.
Clint was so afraid his wife would think he was a freak that he kept it to himself and spent hundreds of dollars for me to do it instead. To be totally honest, I think his wife would be better off yanking on his thinning locks and shouting “Yee-Ha” every couple of weeks rather than discovering their hard-earned superannuation was paying my school fees… But hey, maybe that’s just me.
Actually, from the number of people I see who keep similar secrets from their partners, I know it pretty much is just me, and it’s sad to think there are so many people out there lying and sneaking around because their (supposed) soul mates don’t understand or refuse to accept them.
Yes, of course in some instances there will be that moment when someone’s secret, kinky desire swerves off the “normal” tie-me-to-the-bed-and-spank-me path, and there may well be a moment where you do a double take and have to put on your very best poker face, but I honestly don’t know if that’s worth ridicule, contempt and in some cases divorce. I mean sure, if it's really something you're not into yourself and cannot possibly see yourself doing, there are other options and, as part of a committed relationship, these sort of things should be discussed together and then a solution worked out. But I'm an idealist, and I know when it comes to sex, that is rare.
Gary had a greying moustache, a beer belly and lots of tattoos. He looked like he'd have been most comfortable on the back of a Hog, tearing up the country side with a bikie group and pictures of him around the place proved that he was. He was really friendly and chatty when I arrived, offering me a beer and making sure I was okay and, when I was, he asked me if I minded him slipping into something more comfortable.
Since he was in baggy trackies, Ugg boots and a t-shirt I didn’t think he looked uncomfortable but I just smiled and said “Of course not.”
I used the phone to sign on at the agency I was working for at the time and then went into the bedroom where he said he'd be waiting.
I found him reclining against a stack of brightly coloured pink and purple pillows, wearing a beautiful red lace teddy, thigh-high fishnet stockings and suspenders, and a pair of fabulous red heels.
“Great shoes,” I said, sitting next to him on the bed.
“Aren’t they?” he exclaimed, lifting his foot and turning it around to show me every angle.
That evening we spent about three hours together. We painted each other’s nails and watched Pretty Woman, which, at the end, had him sobbing, “That could so be you one day, Babe.”
He told me, as I brushed his hair, that his wife had left him after he’d confided in her and revealed his secret. He said it had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to say but he felt he owed it to her. Felt they had been through enough. Felt that the time was right and together they could work through anything. Not so.
He had told her in the morning, had cried and confessed and begged her to understand. She said she needed some time to think so he had gone out to run some errands but when he'd come home a couple of hours later, she was gone. He had not seen her since and that had been two years ago.
She’d been the love of his life for nearly thirty years. They had seen the world together, raised a family and a bunch of dogs. They'd built their dream home together and had suffered through the loss of a child together. And then, after his confession, she’d gone, just like that. A lifetime of love and happiness demolished in the flutter of a false eyelash.
I couldn't help but wonder that perhaps if Gary (like Clint and so many other people I see) had snuck around, and lied, and cheated, he would still have the love, companionship and support of the woman he married for better or worse, in sickness and health… But apparently not in racy red heels.
Sad really. Just very, very sad.
Some of my favourite Sophie columns for People Mag were the "Sophie's Choice" ones where I got to research and list all sorts of fun things from my favourite sexual positions, to the best sorts of vibes to buy, to which silver screen hookers were my favourites...
This is one I wrote on some of the more left-of-centre or more interesting fetishes I've come across or heard about...
It's short and sweet and I hope you like it.
(PS I do have many more in-depth articles and pieces on fetish. This is just a basic look, so please don't jump down my throat for being "surface" based. I am very aware fetish is a much more complex thing than just "liking something cos it feels good"... Thanks and carry on!)
I have a real thing about fetishes. I don't particularly have any myself (unless you include my fascination with other people's) but I come across them all the time through work and they really do intrigue me.
The most common ones would probably be the foot and shoe fetishes but over the years I've seen and heard of some pretty funky and interesting ones. Here are a list of some that have really stuck with me, if not just cos of their different-ness
1. Plushophilia
Also known as “Furries” these are people who get turned on by soft toys and people dressed in furry character costumes. As much as it might seem like it, this fetish has nothing to do with children or under age sex at all. It's usually all about the softness of the toys and the feel of the fur on their skin.
2. Hybristophilia
You hear about it all the time. Some random girl sends letters to and falls in love with a psychopath in prison. This whole fetish is about being aroused by criminals, and usually pretty nasty ones at that. I dunno. It certainly explains my strange crush on Chopper Read.
3. Macrophilia
This is something I actually once saw on a Jerry Springer show. People who get totally aroused by fat people. I'm not talking girls with curves, I mean really, really fat people. Some of these Macrophiles were literally force feeding their partners to this obese extreme size to satisfy this desire. I've gotta say, it was one of the more gross ones I've come across.
4. Sitophilia
This one goes really well with Macrophilia. It's when you get sexual arousal from food. Eating food, smelling food, being covered in food. It doesn't matter how, what or where, there just has to be food around and the party can begin.
5. Frotteurism
I reckon peak hour trains are full of these people. That's when you get excited and aroused from rubbing up against a complete stranger without their consent. It's a bit gross and it's also illegal but it's also kinda hard to pick when your wedged like a sardine into a hot overcrowded carriage.
6. Aquaphilia
Forget sex in the shower... When you're an Aquaphiliac sex is the shower. Being in and around and touched by water is what gets these fetishists off. I once had a job where the guy just wanted to pour water over my back. It was fun in a no sex kind of way.
7. Phalloorchoalgolagnia
A lot of you blokes will cringe at this one cos it's about sexual excitement derived from receiving a good ol kick in the nuts, or pain to the genitals. I think I know where the "Oorch" bit comes from... Surely that's the sound they make!
8. Toonophilia
Yes we all think Jessica Rabbit is hot, and some of those Manga girls, with their big eyes and long legs, are totally sexy too, but if you can't get into sex without thinking about cartoon characters or you get wood whenever you see woody woodpecker, then you're a toonophile.
9. Agalmatophilia
Remember the movie Mannequin? Well that guy kinda had this. It's being in love with, and sexually aroused by, mannequins, models and sculptures. It's pretty much harmless unless, of course, you decide to act upon in in the middle of Myers or the Gallery's sculpture garden.
10. Maiesiophilia
Love the shape of a pregnant woman? Get a bit tingly thinking about her round belly and swollen breasts? Then this is the fetish for you. Whereas a lot of pregnant women end up feeling big and fat and totally uncomfortable during the last stages of pregnancy, Maiesophiles find this to be highly arousing and completely horny.
This is an old story from my People Magazine Days... Has been re-edited and changed a little... But is essentially the truth... As is everything I write.
Not so long ago I did something on a job that I've never, ever done at work before. In fact, it's not even something I really like to do all that often in my personal life either and I have to admit, when the receptionist told me about it, I was a bit taken aback.
“He wants me to do what?” I tried to keep the shock out of my voice
“He wants you to clean,” she said, stifling a laugh.
“Like actual scrubbing and stuff?”
“Yes,” she said, not hiding her mirth any more. “In the nude.”
When I got to his house he led me into the bathroom. It was a huge room with a spa, a two-person shower and even a bidet. Everything was white and sparkling. The taps and knobs were gleaming gold and the fluffy white towels and bath mat looked like they'd never soaked up a drop of water in their entire lives. On the bench top was a spray bottle full of water, some sponges and a pair of yellow rubber gloves that I could tell were going to be too big.
He sat on the edge of the spa as I got naked. Slipping off my dress sexily and stepping out of my underwear. He didn't seem to be that interested at all, until I started to pull on the gloves.
Because they were so big, I kept getting my fingers all mixed up in the floppy, rubber hands and, as I twisted and pulled and tried to get them on, I noticed him beginning to watch me intently, his cock growing harder with every pull and wriggle.
When I finally got them sorted (and by sorted I mean each finger in each finger-hole. They still looked over-sized and ridiculous) he breathlessly passed me the spray bottle and sponge.
“Can you do the shower first?”
I stepped into the cubicle and sprayed the glass around me, wiping the sponge over the glass and watching him through it. He was really enjoying it, sitting forwards, his eyes on not on me but on the sponge against the glass, his hand gently stroking himself.
I reached up to get the top of the screen and he gripped himself a little harder.
“Yeah,” he said. “Do the top. Get it sparkling”
I had to hold on with one hand and kind of lean my body up against the glass to balance myself. It was cold against my nipples as I stretched up and across cleaning along the top. I figured he would be enjoying the show of breasts moving against the glass but no. His eyes were still on my hand, wiping the sponge back and forth across the glass.
“Mmmm, yes,” he murmured between little grunts and sighs. “That looks fantastically clean. Really sparkling. Now come and do the spa.”
I went over and sprayed inside the tub, wiping my sponge slowly along the bottom. It really was a huge spa and reaching over to the other side was almost impossible so I got in, on my hands and knees, my arse to him.
As I scrubbed back and forth I rocked my body with the motion, moving like I was being fucked from behind by an invisible person. I'm always told what a great arse I have and what a fantastic view it is so I thought I'd give him something to enjoy.
He didn't. “Could you turn around a bit so I can see what your hands are doing?” He asked.
I obliged by turning around and wiping the sponge against the tiled wall next to him.
“Yes, yes. So clean. So very very clean.” Was all he would say. Over and over, tugging at himself and intently watching my hands. As he pumped harder and his breath got shorter he started to speak in short staccato sentences.
“Spray it,” he breathed.
I sprayed the wall with the water bottle.
“Yes. Yes,” he said. “Now wipe it. Wipe it clean.”
I wiped my sponge against the tiles.
“So clean,” he murmured. “So very very very clean...” The last word was like a drawn out moan as he came with a splurt onto his belly and hands.
You know, I've never really been all that good at cleaning but, considering the tip he gave me, and the fact he asked me to come back the following week to do the vacuuming, I guess I can't be all that bad. And I suppose it'll do me good to get some practice in if I ever decide to do it for real at my own house.
I wrote this piece originally for Australian People magazine when I had my column "Sophie Loves Sex." This is it in its original form... For the longer, more descriptive and even sexier version... Well, you'll just have to wait for my book to be published!
Enjoy!
Simon was an artist who lived in a little upstairs studio in the city. Nearly the whole flat was covered in brightly coloured canvases, and easels containing half finished works.
“Do you like them?”
“Yes,” I said. “You’re very talented.”
“I’m getting a bit tired of the old canvas,” he said. “I really want to try painting on other mediums.”
“Like what?” I asked.
He paused for a minute, thinking. “Could I paint you?” Before I had a chance to respond he added, “I mean paint on you. Make you my canvas, I’ll use body paint.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said.
He led me to a table covered in a white sheet. I slipped off my clothes and lay on my tummy, my chin resting on my hands.
He dipped his hand into the paint. It was cold at first, making my body tense up and little goose-bumps appear, but after a few strokes I got used to it and began to enjoy it.
His hands smoothed the paint across my back, over my bottom and down my thighs, warm and strong.
After about twenty minutes he stopped and stood back to admire his work, pulling over a large mirror so I could see as well.
It was amazing. My back, all the way down to my knees, was covered in these bold shades of blue and purple and silver, all blending into each other to resemble a kind of magical stormy sky - the curves of my body complementing the swirling paint and adding depth and shadow to his work.
He walked around the table, inspecting it from all angles. “You are one sexy piece of art,” he said.
He pulled me back slowly til my feet were on the ground, my elbows still resting on the table, and I turned my head so I could see in the mirror.
He stepped out of his jeans, exposing his hard cock, and came up behind me. His hands slid up my body as he pushed into me, leaving a trail of slivery-purple up my belly, and over my breasts, his slippery fingers pinching at my nipples, making me push back harder onto him.
The paint from my back streaked over his chest and stomach as our bodies slid against each other and by the time we both came, in a slippery, paint-smeared heap, the magical storm had gone, replaced with a greyish mess.
After sponging each other off in a warm soapy shower we shared smoke and a glass of wine.
“I wish you’d taken a photo of it,” I said. “I would have loved a copy.”
“You were so sexy, I couldn’t help myself.” He reached over to a pile of small canvases and pulled one out.
It was a beautiful whirl of spirals and curls all blended together in different shades of green, and just looking at it turned me on again.
“As a reminder,” he said, handing it to me.
I still have it. I’m looking at it now. And considering the tingles I get when I do, it’s definitely still doing its job.
