O-Town, population two!

Hey Lovers, I’m back!

I wish I could say my absence was due to being whisked away to compete in some gloriously cringe-worthy dating program like The Bachelor, and for reasons of utmost secrecy I could not disclose my location to you, but sadly it’s nothing nearly as exciting as all that.

Turns out study is a bitch!

That’s right Lover’s, for the past two weeks I have been so bogged down with assignments and readings that I have been barely able to raise my head for long enough to grab a cheeky roll in the hay. I tell you Lovers, when you have to start scheduling sex around essays, you really need to start thinking about your priorities in life!

But, I have huge news for you my lovelies! Actually I have two bits of news, both equally exciting but one involving slightly less bodily fluid.

We did it! Thanks to your votes, How Many Frogs is now number 83 on the list of top 100 sex bloggers of 2015! Plus we just managed to sneak into the list of top ten newcomers of 2015! I am, as always, indebted to you my Lovely Lovers. Without you, none of this would be possible and I’d just be that slutty girl who’s sex life goes awry 80% of the time. You rock!

Now to the other exciting piece of business. Months, months I tell you Lovers, that’s how long it had been since I had experienced that glorious sensation we all like to call an orgasm. But last night…. It was achieved! Oh, what a feeling, I felt as if I’d just bought a Toyota! And the best part? It just kept going and going! Well, until poor Boris couldn’t take it any more and ordered his army to charge the slippery gates. To his credit though, we had been going for quite some time, stopping only for ‘the incident.’

Things were going swimmingly and after quite a lengthy cunnilingus session, Boris had taken up position between my waiting thighs. Boy was he going at it, and I was loving it! Maybe a little too much however, as I felt my… excitement trickle down my butt crack. Not so bad to start, but just like wetting the bed, as soon as it gets cold, things get icky. Still, it was easy enough to ignore and I carried on whooping with enjoyment as Boris plundered my chamber of secrets. Suddenly Boris was eager for a bit of doggy action. I concurred and we moved to change position.

And that’s when I saw it.

Blood. Blood on the bed. Right where I had been lying!

What? No!

My mind raced as the possibilities for why the crimson infidel had appeared piled up in my already fuzzy brain. I wasn’t anywhere near due to book the painters in for some renovations, so it certainly wasn’t periodic table blood. Oh god, had I somehow become re-virginised? I snorted as I contemplated the hilarity of the thought. One week of no sex and all study and suddenly I was a virgin? No chance.

But what was it? Sure Halloween was close but if I had wanted a themed Halloween romp I would have dressed up as a witch and made Boris my naughty boy whose punishment was to insert himself into my cauldron of doom. (Sounds fun eh? Maybe next year.) I grabbed a tissue and swiped at my butt crack, fearing the worst… But it came away clean ( well, mostly clean, it’s my butt crack after all.) Maybe it wasn’t me?

“You were scratching my back.” piped Boris. I gasped and quickly inspected him, but as I thought, my bitten down nails barely grazed his thick man skin. Suddenly Boris lifted his leg and the explanation was clear.

“Oh, I forgot about that.” he chirped meekly, as he showed me an old cut on his knee that had obviously been reopened due to the friction of his furious thrusting.


Shame about the bed sheets though.

Luckily after that debacle Boris thoroughly made up for it by letting me go on top where as you now know I experienced the juice box shattering orgasm. Ah, bliss.

Now Lovers, you may be thinking “Wow, Boris is still in the picture, this must be great news! Maybe he’s ‘The One?'” I can tell you now my ever optimistic love bugs, that this is not the case. There are moments in life when it’s time to ask yourself one question. And no it’s not the obligatory “do I feel lucky?” But instead the rather important query of “does he like me or my orifices?”

Unfortunately Boris is an orifice man all the way.

While at first I was disheartened and catastrophised everything with thoughts like “God everybody wants me for my tiny beef flaps but never my boisterously big personality!” And “urgh, I may as well book a flight to Amsterdam now and work in one of those doors in the red light district with all the other orifice ridden women.” Then I realised the almost impossible task of attaining a working visa with a job title such as “Door Whore” and thought better of the whole idea. Even if I’d gone all politically correct with “Door Individual Coyly Keen” that still spelled out exactly what I was after.

No no, it was better to stay in Australia, accept the fact that Boris and I would just be enjoying putting things in each other and get on with finding my super special man… Wherever he was.

So now you’re up to date Lovers! I will try my best to keep the updates coming and sate your furiously sexual appetites! Until next time, Happy Horny Halloween!



Pick up line of the week: Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you everyone else disappears.

(Closest I could get to a Halloween pick up line ;-))


Happy weekend Lovers!

Sex is a bad thing because it rumples the bedclothes.”

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

Thank God those days are over right? I’m so glad we get to live in a day and age where sex is celebrated and partaken in as often as possible instead of hidden behind closed doors (although honestly, some couples really need to get a room.) No longer do girls have to ‘lie back and think of England’ as they are ‘penetrated.’ No no, sex is so much more these days, or at least it should be. If you’re in a relationship and the most foreplay you get is ‘brace yourself Effie,” then I think it’s time you shake things up a little.

But sometimes it’s not as simple as all that, is it?

Lovers, I know we all aspire to be complete Lothario’s in the boudoir don’t we? Pull those boys into bed, give em a grind and send them away with stars in their eyes? Or perhaps seduce the senoritas into the sauna before sexing the life out of them, concluding in multiple orgasms for all?

Ah the dream…

Of course unless we’re very lucky, good sex must be learned, worked for and of course maintained (if it works the first twenty times great, but chances are you’ll have to change your repertoire before long kiddo.) Yes that’s right, we all have issues in that sexiest of rooms. Maybe you’re like me and cum shoots through you faster than a bullet train. Or maybe it’s your mind that’s the enemy and you can’t seem to get the thought of what to buy Aunty May for her 47th wedding anniversary out of your head whilst your lover whispers sweet nothings into your nether regions. (Dude, why are you even getting her an anniversary present? It’s not like you’re married to her. I really think a card is all that’s necessary in this situation.) Or perhaps it’s the thought of old Aunty May that gets you going far too quickly for anyone’s liking? (Think what you want during sex people, but poor May doesn’t want to hear the news of her nieces breakup due to the fact her man couldn’t stop yelling out certain months of the year in bed… Eyes open, mouth shut if that’s the case.)

So what to do in situations like this? Some things you can’t fix, just alter slightly. I can’t swallow after blowjobs these days (a cruel irony as I really do enjoy dishing them out) but I always make sure I have a tissue or some form of spit receptacle handy so I can deal with the situation in my mouth as quickly and painlessly as possible. After all, nobody wants to see their woman running frantically around the room with her hand clamped over her mouth, eyes bulging wide, desperately searching for a way to rid her mouth of your babymakers. Kind of kills the mood.

But luckily there are a few situations we can work on! With just a few changes, a little practice and some trial and error, almost no sexual issue is insurmountable! So let’s start with one of mine shall we?

I was once talking to a colleague after a particularly thorough lesson on blowjobs involving a cucumber and some grapes           ( props; one of the few perks of working in a salad bar) when she asked the question I’m sure quite a few of them had been pondering for quite some time.

“Have you ever considered becoming a prostitute?”

Now Lovers, most people would be aghast, confronted, even insulted by a comment such as this. But not me. Because actually, the thought occasionally did cross my mind. Why not work in the industry I just so happened to love passionately and knew quite a bit about? There were a few things stopping me from pulling out the thigh highs and dialing 1800PIMP-YO-ASS, but it was mainly one in particular. So without missing a beat, I turned to my workmate and said,

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it, but my vajayjay just dries up way too quick.”

After she’d picked her jaw up off the floor from the shock of my complete equanimity to the situation, we spoke for quite some time about the issue of the old rusty juicebox.

Am I the only one Lovers? That would be a negative. So many of us struggle keeping the swamp at just the right muddiness. It’s either too dry for anything to survive, let alone thrive, or the tsunami hits and it’s every man for himself trying to feel any sort of sensation through the watery folds. I have much more trouble with the former, as basically I’m a twenty seven year old nymphomaniac stuck in the body of a menopausal nun. But never fear Lovers! I have done the hard yards and researched the shit out of this issue, and today is the day I unleash this most crucial of information.

So let’s giddy up and get moist!

What to do first.

Ok Lovers, we’ve all got a very close relationship with our beef curtains, but have we really appreciated them lately? Have we taken the time to take a good look and really check out the real estate down below? I can sense already a lot of you shaking your heads, and I haven’t even posted this yet. Well don’t feel too bad Lovers, I myself was guilty of this crime, not having had a sneaky peek since my teenage years when curiousity overtook me and I took the plunge down south with my Mother’s hand mirror.  I decided after my sexual foray with Boris that it was time to have another look-see and see if I couldn’t fix this situation with a little TLC of the coochie.

Huh, wasn’t expecting that.

Maybe I should have had a freshening up session first with the help of a razor, but I figured seeing the beast in it’s natural state would be best. The first thing I thought when I looked down there was “Wow, that looks a lot like Homer Simpson’s mouth.”

Yeah should have shaved.

Seriously ladies, you have two or three days growth on the old honeypot and all of a sudden you’ve got a channel ten animated character staring back at you! Crazy times. Once I got past the Homer situation I delved a little deeper, and I was suprised at what my main thought was.

“Naw, isn’t it cute?”

Honestly Lover’s, it kind of was! I have a special vagina calender my mates bought me for Christmas with a different close up vag pic for every month, but seeing the inside of one, especially your own, is quite the cathartic experience! And then something crazy happened.

I was doing my one woman exploration during the day in bed (ah uni student life) with the radio on my favourite station, Pure Gold Nineties. As I was peering into all the crazy nooks and crannies of my bits and pieces, Backstreet boys came on.

And I honestly couldn’t control what came next.

I took hold of my pink bits and made them sing! Together we mouthed the words as the Backstreet Boys lamented about the way they wanted things. She even took on a different personality with each of the boys, being cheeky and a little sexy when singing Nick’s part, but then adorable and lovely when Brian was crooning the words. It was so much fun! Talk about a bonding session! In fact it was so great we rewarded each other by finally trialling the newest vibrator in our collection.

See Lover’s? Fun for everyone!

So now that you’re familiar with what’s taken up residence between your legs, it’s time to get that bad boy on side!

Option One: Before sex, engage in AT LEAST fifteen minutes of foreplay.

I struggle with this one personally. As soon as a guy heads down south I’m ready to go. Well, my brain is at least. More often than not it’s me dragging them up from the lunchbox to wack on a condom and get down to it. But because of this my poor lady garden hasn’t had enough time to acclimatise to the presence of penis in her midst. And before I know it I’m all out of juice and left either asking the guy if he’s close (girl code for “hurry the fuck up, I’m dying here!”) or offering to finish him off with a well timed blow job. So, according to my google, yahoo and plentiful sex journals, foreplay is super important for the lady to enjoy sex. Start with the guy going down on you, before sliding one finger in, upgrading to two when you’re ready and then if you’re, keen go for a third, just to make sure the hanger is definitely ready for the aircraft to land. If you don’t like the oral aspect just ask him to do a lot more handy work, or grab his hand and play puppet-master. Hopefully this should get you ready to last at least twenty minutes or so without lube.

Option Two: Lubey Lubey Lube Lube!

We all know about lube yes? It can be great, it can be self heating (very dangerous) and it can be the death of a great session between the sheets. Too little and you may as well have not used any, too much and nobody feels a thing (although the sound factor increases with all that extra squelching. If that’s what you’re into. No judgement people.) But what lube is best? Well if you have a sensitive coochie like myself, it’s best to go for a lube that’s glycerine, propylene, glycol and paraben free. You’re probably thinking “Keh? Why is she saying these big annoying words? I just want to read my sex blog in peace!” It’s very important you know these words though Lovers, because they can apparently make all the difference. If in doubt, just go for the organic stuff, it’s usually free of all the nasties. But don’t take my word for it, try a few different ones out. You might be sensitive to one and not to another, or one might burn like a mofo whereas the other soothes and supplicates like a dream. Experiment is key here lovers, so let’s get wet!

Option Three: Ribbed, studded or regular?

Condoms; they can be a godsend or the devil incarnate. Sure they protect us from those scary STI’s and the even more terrifying consequence of unprotected sex; babies (cue shudder here) but why do they have to be so damn annoying? They stick, they chafe, they tear, they come off inside you! What type of evil mastermind invented these tiny devices of sexual torture? The answer I’m sure is someone who very much cared about the human race and wanted us to remain safe and healthy, but I’m pretty sure he had a mean streak in there too. A big problem I have in bed when having sex with a condom is that the damn thing just dries me out like nobody’s business! Lube isn’t as viable an option as oil based lubes can damage the latex and potentially weaken them. So unless you’re certain that your lubricant isn’t oil based and your condoms aren’t latex, it’s best to steer clear of the lube/condom combo. But how to solve this problem? It’s all about shopping around! Here are a few condoms that are for one latex free and also cater to the more sensitive among us.

SKYN: This condom is made from polyisoprene, which is basically a synthetic model of latex but without the allergy component. They’re thicker which means less rips and tears (yay!) but to the touch are super soft and quite nice. Although I don’t recommend throwing out your facial flannel and replacing it with one of these bad boys. Soft and nice for sex only people.

Trojan: Polyurethane is the main player in this cock sock, which means they last longer than the regular latex model, and again no annoying latex allergy issues! The other upside of this condom is heat is transferred remarkably well through the material, so you’ll be able to feel the warmth of your man’s passion all night long!

You don’t have to go for these two exact brands Lovers, I’m just giving you an idea. Simply look for condoms made from either polyisoprene or polyurethane and you should be on to a winner.

Well I know what I’ll be doing next time I have sex! Don’t worry Lovers, I intend to practice what I preach and will personally try all these methods and let you know which ones work and which ones fail miserably.

Ooh the tension is killing me! 😉

Until next time Lovers, think slippery thoughts!

Claire xx

Shameful plug time: Hey Lovers! You know I love writing for you and I hope you enjoy reading my posts just as much. I’d like to spread the word to as many Lovers out there as possible though and I need your help! If you love reading about my crazy sexcapades then vote for me in Kinkly’s Sex Blogging Superheroes of 2015! All you need to do is click on the link and vote for my blog (and yes I suppose you can vote for others too, there’s some really good one’s trust me! ;-)) Let’s see if I can get into the top 100 eh? Love you long time Lovers!


Boris’ bender of a beef injection

Exciting news Lovers!

Sexpo is only one month away! Well for me anyways, you guys will sadly just have to wait until this most fabulous of expo’s graces your corner of the world with it’s presence. I may have got just a touch too excited by this news as I felt it was necessary to drop one hundred and eighty dollars on a pair of shoes and a handbag in celebration. My homage to the sex gods on high if you will (hey, they really are quite sexy shoes, plus I got another handbag for free. Score! Sadly my holiday savings may never recover.) I probably won’t be doing a review of Sexpo as it seems a little tame for you x-rated kinksters you. But, if you feel the need to live vicariously through me or (heaven forbid) Sexpo doesn’t visit your area any time soon, shoot me a message in the comments. If I get a few people asking for it, I’ll definitely do a review! After all, your wish is my command Lovers 😉

Speaking of lovers, lets get back to Boris shall we?

Righto, when I left you Boris and I were perched in a big comfy chair at the bar swapping saliva and sex stories. Boris turned out to be quite the drinker, and try as I might, I couldn’t keep up with his pace. I also felt pretty bad as he had paid for everything so far. Only problem was I had about twenty dollars left in my bank account to last me the next five days.


I wanted to show my gratitude for his generosity though and demonstrate I wasn’t just some beer loving gold digger (although I think they normally opt for super expensive champagne. I was drinking Asahi though, not the cheapest of beers.) So I bit the proverbial bullet and shelled out for some wedges; or as the bar called them, “Bad Boy Wedges.” I was drunk enough to hope that they might arrive dressed in mini leather jackets and sunglasses.

Alas, just regular wedges.

Damn false advertising!

You’re probably thinking, but Claire, what’s a few wedges to a guy? I’ll tell you this Lover’s, those wedges cost me ten dollars, approximately half my weekly budget, if that’s not gratitude, I don’t know what is!

We ploughed through those as I perched on his lap and tried not squash his nuts, before finally we decided to head off.

Both of us were still kind of hungry however, and luckily for us, those heavenly golden arches are never far away.

Boris shelled out for the food and told me with a smile that he was happy to get it because I’d get the cab home.

Aaand we’re back to awkward.

With a quick mental note to head towards the tram station as soon as we finished eating I devoured my cheeseburger, happy in the knowledge that I had at least ordered one of the cheapest things on the menu.

If you hadn’t noticed Lovers, I tend to get quite concerned about money and how much is spent on me versus how much I spend. I used to be fine to pay for things or go Dutch when the guy wanted too, but being a uni student means the belt is considerably tighter (you know those girls with six inch waists? Yeah that’s me.) I feel I need to repay them somehow or they’ll think I’m using them. I think that’s my biggest fear Lovers, that boys will think I am just with them for their money. It’s only happened once, but I promise you it’s not something you want to experience twice.

So with a twinge of guilt tainting my cheeseburger, I tried to shove the money issue to the back of my mind and just chat to Boris.

But Boris seemed to have other ideas. He placed his half eaten big mac back on the table and let out a burp and a sigh. He looked wrecked. And none too happy about it either.

Was this a bad idea?

“You ok?” I asked tentatively, licking the last of the tainted sauce from my fingers.

“Yeah, just not hungry anymore.” Mumbled Boris.

I looked at all the left over chips we hadn’t eaten and put them back into the paper bag.

I have no clue whose idea it was but before I knew it Boris and I were suddenly on a mission to feed the homeless. We set off in search of the nearest person doing it tough so we could hopefully cheer them up with a few fries. As always though, whenever you’re searching for something in particular, you’ll see everything except what you’re looking for.

Not a single bloody homeless person for miles. But I suppose in the long run that’s actually a really good thing right? We were just sad we couldn’t donate our fries, which by now had gone stone cold anyway. After dumping them in the nearest bin, I took Boris to the nearest tram stop and waited.

But Boris was having none of it. He didn’t want to wait for a tram and was adamant we take a taxi. Of course he had no idea that it wasn’t an option for me, so I finally had to admit that I couldn’t afford it.

“Whatever, I’ll pay for it.” Said Boris quickly. Was he angry? Annoyed? Tired? I felt my stomach twist as I began to have second thoughts about taking him home. What if he was just going to be irritated at me all night?

No no, I chided myself, I had to stop thinking so negatively. He was just cold and wanted to get home to bed. Surely once we got to my place he’d cheer up.


As we rode in the taxi side by side (a good sign that he wasn’t too pissed at me) I formulated a plan. We’d get home, I’d offer him some water, then we’d have a shower together. We’d be naked, which is always fun, we’d make out, and then if we felt like it, we’d have some (hopefully) lovely sex.

Unfortunately that was not to be.

As soon as I showed Boris into my room he started whipping off his clothes.

Huh, so much for foreplay.

I wasn’t even in the mood for sex at that point anyway. There was no way I was just jumping into bed with him. I have standards… mostly.

I walked in behind him just as he got down to his orange undies.

“So,” I purred, attempting to sound sexy, although after all those beers it came out as less of a sexy purr and more of a lazy drawl. “You want to have a shower with me?”

To my horror he simply looked at me nonchalantly for a moment before jumping into my bed and letting rip the loudest fart imaginable.

What the fuck?!

Did he really just do that? My god, I’d just met the guy and all of a sudden he was comfortable enough to gas out my bedroom? Boris!

As his personal brand of faeces fairies flitted freely through my freshly laundered bed sheets, I stormed off to have a shower, furious at myself for making such a huge error in judgement.

Boy did I get a good scrub that night. I muttered angrily at myself as I loofahed up. Why did I bring him home? I should have just left it after a few beers. I steamed with frustration as I shampooed. He thought that was acceptable? Those sheets were fresh! As I towelled off I tried to calm my wounded sexual pride. If he didn’t want to see this sexy beast naked then that was his loss, obviously. So there.

But when I walked back into the room my irritation bubbled up inside me once more as I saw he had committed the cardinal sin.

Bastard was on my side.

Hell no!

I stalked over to the bed and flicked the lamp on, enjoying his surprise and squinty eyes.

“You’re on my side.” I ground out.

He mumbled something unintelligible and shuffled over. I hopped in and pulled the covers over me before backing up into him.

Oh yes, if he was going to fart in my bed, refuse a shower and then have the nerve to take my side, he was sure as shit going to spoon me.

And that’s how we spent the night.

Oh except the dozen or so times Boris woke up to complain about how noisy the traffic sound was.

Honestly, men are such babies aren’t they?

I wasn’t expecting to wake up and do much except throw his ass to the curb, but something unexpected happened in the morning. Once we were both awake and lucid, Boris was quite cool. We had a laugh and a little debate about what went on in the rugby changing rooms (apparently nothing but I have my doubts) and I found myself really enjoying his company. However, whilst we were on the subject of the rugby boys showering together (sounds nice eh?) we touched on the issue of pubal management. What guys and girls like, what they expect in the old nether regions and so forth. It was at this moment that Boris wandered his hands down to my juicebox.

I shave regularly Lovers, but unfortunately even with the sharpest of blades you’re always going to get that little bit of stubble. Most guys don’t seem to mind, but not Boris.

I had given him a bit of flack for not man-scaping (like at all) and he decided to fire back, letting me know he wasn’t impressed with ‘the situation’ down there and I “should stop being so cheap and just get a wax.”

Ooh, low blow.

Truth be told I was a little hurt by his comment. I mean it wasn’t as if he was perfectly man-scaped himself. First dates usually include compliments like how nice your butt looks in those jeans or how your hair smells kind of nice (props to scented conditioner people!) and here I was getting grief about my pubic arrangement.

Plus, it all came back to the money issue. A good brazillian is usually around the fifty dollar mark. Boris didn’t seem to grasp what I could do with that amount of money instead of blowing it on my froo froo (or bloody expensive shoes and bags. Impulse buying is a sickness, I swear.) Fifty dollars could buy me fifty cups of stress reducing, eight am, minutes before the class I haven’t prepared for Seven Eleven coffee. Or over fifty packets of life saving delicious two minute noodles. Or twenty five packs of Extra gum that I chew through far too quickly and end up having a laxative effect. (Yeah I’m thinking I should quit the chewies.)

Where before I had been totally ready to forgive and forget and enjoy some morning sex, now I felt suddenly self conscious and totally unsexy.

The beef curtains wavered, threatening to close over at any moment and refuse entry to all comers (pun intended.)

But then his hands were all over me and suddenly this ride was open again. Whatever, I’d take it up with him later, right now he had more important things to use his mouth for.

Boris set up camp between my legs under the quilt and got to work. I was incredibly tempted to dutch oven him as payback for last night, but decided against it at the last minute. I expected his oral attempts to be just like everyone else’s, not bad, but just a light snack before the main meal.

Boris though, that boy had some skill!

I hadn’t enjoyed a little face to flange time that much in years. So of course I was wildly turned on and grabbed a condom as quickly as I could (ooh apple flavour, nice.)

But when I went to give him a little helping hand I was in for a little surprise.

We have a curver people!

That’s right, old B-boy had a curvy cock on him. Now curvers can go one of two ways. Either they bend the wrong way or at too much of an incline and things can get uncomfortable or fall out at regular intervals, or you’ve hit the jackpot of g-spot stimulators.

I’m happy to say Boris was the latter.

After he’d popped on his protection (look at us, such mature consenting adults) he lay on top of me and eased his way into my now quite steamy muffin tray.

Ooh, all of the tingles.

A strange thing happened then. What I thought was just going to be a fun frolic between the sheets turned into quite an intense session. When Boris was on top of me we had full eye contact the whole time. He wasn’t going hard and fast like some eager beavers tend to do, but deliciously slow and deep. Well this was unexpected! It was great. I have absolutely no idea how Boris was feeling but something struck a chord inside me and I felt suddenly incredibly connected to him. For all I know he could have been staring intently at the bridge of my nose trying not to come too quickly, but I’d like to think it was something more.

I jumped on top of him and went to town, but sadly I couldn’t stay there for long as my treacherous bed kept sounding the sex alarm and squealing to high heaven. This wouldn’t have been such an issue if my house mate hadn’t been home, but alas, I had to stop and switch positions to keep the noise down.

I’ve never wanted a new bed more than at that moment.

As it turned out Boris was quite the energiser bunny in the bedroom and he just kept going and going. There were no complaints at all from me, but sadly the honey pot was all out of condiments and he was scraping the bottom of the jar with each thrust.


I delicately attempted to speed him along and luckily a couple of minutes later he was filling that apple condom with a few million of his best.

Happy days!

Phew! What fun! We laid around a little while longer before Boris decided it was time for him to head home. I watched with a satisfied little smile as he pulled his clothes back on and kissed me goodbye.

What just happened? A date that had started disastrous, then looked up for a while before plummeting to murky ass level depths, had actually been a success! Wowsa.

Did I see him again?

You’ll have to find out next time Lovers! (Plus I’m not sure yet either as this was a very recent date ;-))

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: You look so innocent,

you look so sweet,

as long as I have a face,

you have a seat

Kissing lessons with Boris!

Afternoon Lovers!

Gah, daylight savings has just kicked in here so I’m feeling so sleep cheated! Still, I figured what better way to calm my disgruntled attitude than a quick session with my favourite Lovers? So what shall we talk about today? Hmm, ooh I’ve got it! My most recent Tinder date! Yes, I think that will do quite nicely. So settle in Lovers, grab a nice cup of tea or glass or vodka if that’s your style and prepare to be wowed by this truly rollercoaster date.

Let’s set the scene shall we? It’s Friday night, another week of work and study over with and yet another Tinder date set up. Will this guy be the one? Or will he just be one of many? I crossed my fingers for the former. Honestly Lovers, dating in this day and age is exhausting! As I’m sure all you single Lovers out there can agree with. So, I pulled on my nicest skinny jeans and top ensemble (way too cold for dress weather) and after a lengthy shoe debate (heels or flats?) I sashayed out the door, freshly made up and ready to date the shit out of this guy!

Unfortunately, in my eagerness to get that nerve wracking first meet over with, I slightly overestimated travel time and ended up at the assigned bar about half an hour early.


Luckily I had planned for just such an occurrence and had brought along a little reading material. Namely The Adult Spanking and Discipline Handbook by The Governess Gemma Forbes. I highly recommend it Lovers, it’s very educational, not to mention in depth. So there I was, perched on a couch, beer in hand, poring through my corporal punishment handbook, waiting for this elusive Tinder man to show.

His name was Boris. A golf instructor from New Zealand who enjoyed playing rugby in his spare time. And boy did Boris seem on edge! When he arrived at the bar he couldn’t find me at first ( I had spied him a little earlier but was coyly checking him out over the top of my book just to get a good first look. First impressions: Not bad, not bad at all. Although sadly he had shaved off the cute curly locks he was sporting in his profile pictures. Damn.) Eventually he sent me an SOS text and I took pity on him and joined him at a table he had commandeered.

Ooh it was awkward to start with. So awkward.

There was the usual “What do you do? Where do you live? How’s life?” crap, but there just really didn’t seem to be a connection there. Boris just seemed so nervous talking to me. I got paranoid and ducked to the bathroom to check if I had sprouted any mysterious growths on my face but apart from my slightly over-sized nose everything seemed blemish free.

Hmm, odd.

I sauntered back to where Boris was sitting, this time determined to get him out of his nervous funk, or whatever it was he was suffering from. I tried the subtle approach, but that didn’t work for a second, so I just came straight out with it.

“Why are you so nervous dude? Relax!”

Of course he denied being nervous at all and trotted out the usual excuses about being tired and having a long day. What was going on here? The guy seemed so cool and interesting over Tinder but right now he was sporting the personality of a goldfish. I sighed inwardly to myself. Oh well, another one bites the dust I suppose. I toyed around with the idea of cutting the date short and madly Tindering until I found a replacement, but that just sounded like far too much work. Plus I didn’t want to be that weird girl sitting at the bar alone scrolling through dudes until I got RSI in my thumb. No, not a good idea. Besides, Boris was definitely a nice guy, there was no denying that, I just couldn’t get past the dating wall of China he had erected. So I decided to make the best of it. Hey it was Friday night after all and I was out with a guy drinking tasty beer, could be worse, right?

Because I assumed this date would go no further I let go of all my first date guidelines (which after a few beers I rarely follow anyway) and launched into my favourite topic.


What’s your favourite position? Craziest place you’ve done it? Like it up the butt? Weirdest sex story?

And like a beautiful sex lotus, Boris began to bloom before my eyes. He was playful and eager to discuss all the topics I brought up. He was genuinely interested when I enlightened him of the new fads going around and perfectly horrified when I described butt hooks to him in detail.

Huh, maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all.

And that’s when he unknowingly pulled his trump card and asked me to rate his kissing style.

I don’t know about you Lovers, but I love a good pash. There’s nothing better to make you feel alive than a skillful tongue down your throat. However, it has to be a good kiss. Nobody likes a snake-tongue or Danny-dribbler hanging off their mouth. I also have a great passion for improving said kissers. Don’t get me wrong here Lovers, I don’t think I’m God’s gift when it comes to kissing, but I do know what feels nice and what definitely does not. So when a terrible kisser attacks my face I like to go the extra mile and set them straight. It’s my small service to the community and every other girl who that particular student will end up kissing.

You’re welcome ladies.

So when Boris asked me to ‘rate’ him (his words not mine people) I jumped at the chance. If he was good then hurrah a great kiss for everyone involved, and if he was bad then hey I get to roll up my teacher sleeves and get instructing.

And so we kissed.

Nice, very nice.

So that was how the night continued on. We’d chat, usually about some sort of sexcapade one or the other had embarked on, make out for a while, stop and get a beer or make a toilet stop and then repeat. It was fun. I was glad I stayed.

But what happens next Lovers? Oh the ups and down! Much like a good blowjob every date can be improved by ups and downs but how far down should one go before your realise you can’t pull up? That you’ve gone so far you’ve hit the back of your throat and if you move now your may just overpower your gag reflex and spew everywhere?

Find out how the gag reflex makes a recovery next time Lovers!



Pickup line of the week: I’m no weatherman, but you can expect a few inches tonight!