Friday, 30 September 2011

The Pursuit of Porn

I’m a woman. And I like other women. Especially naked ones. Ergo it can be assumed that I’d love lesbian porn. Logical right? 

Have you ever actually sat and watched so-called lesbian porn though? There’s some typically cheesy scene with two of the most hetero looking ladies imaginable, complete with beanstalk bodies, long painted nails and so much make-up you can barely make out their over-the-top facial expressions. For a good 5 minutes or so they tentatively kiss and touch each other with so much timidity that one can only assume they will literally die if they get too into it. 

Cue the buff man. Into the room he struts, witnesses the supposedly sapphic scene unfolding in front of him, and of course joins in. Because this is what would happen in reality. I know when I’m in bed with my lady, as soon as a dashing man storms into our bedroom unannounced we would naturally invite him to join us. That’s just how we lesbians roll, right? Sure...

Where is the real lesbian porn?!

Now I’ve been thorough enough to do some research on this in hopes of finding that mythical lesbian porn that is made by lesbians and for lesbians. Me and T had a little search together a while ago actually. Now T was yet to have the pleasure of being introduced to the world of online porn, so I felt it was my duty as her girlfriend to share this beautiful experience with her. Who knows, maybe it would be a nice little mood-setter ;) 

After a spot of Googling we stumbled across what actually looked like a promising website. A nice little site specifically advertising its contents as dyke porn featuring actual real-life lesbians made specifically for our kind of people. 

Quite frankly, we were both just kind of grossed out. In their defence, the porn did feature actual lesbians, judging by the number of typical looking dykey lesbians who actually knew how to handle a woman without grimacing. Which was great. No silicone-pumped blonde bimbos with long fingernails that look like they would massacre your vag. 

Much to our disappointment (or at least mine) this was not hot porn. If anything, it almost made me question the appeal of gay sex. Apparently, even if real lesbians are brought in front of the camera to do their thing, there is still no hot lesbian porn. 

It does not exist. Fact.

So I have no choice but to come to the conclusion that if we lesbians want to enjoy a bit of girl-on-girl action before bedtime, we will have to put up with the movies filmed solely for the pleasure of men. 

But now I turn to you, internet world. If any of you are aware of anyone who has managed to crack the code to good lesbian porn, do share and I will happily eat my words. And then watch some good porn.

- R

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Dream Debauchery

So, dreams can be a bit crappy sometimes. I had a vivid dream last night. Not a nice one at that.

It basically involved R cheating on me with a random mutual acquaintance, returning back to our room and describing the entire episode to me and answering questions posed by our housemates B1 and B2…who for some reason were also there.

I know this didn’t really happen. Moreover, I know it would never actually happen.

But when I woke up….

I was pissed.


Like really pissed. I looked over to see R still sweetly asleep, all curled up next to me with my arm around her…and I was annoyed. I yanked my arm out from under her head, which oddly didn’t wake her up, and I scooched to the other end of the bed so we weren’t touching (which, I would like to point out is very difficult in a twin bed). This still didn’t wake her, so I ended up just randomly announcing to her semi-conscious body that she had dream-cheated on me and should be ashamed.

She just kind of grunted and apologised and scooched over to hug me as I silently stewed in my irrational anger while being spooned.

It reminded me of this Michael McIntyre sketch. (Oh, he's a funny man)

I hope you guys understand. Maybe you too have had irrational dream cheating episodes with involving your girlfriend partner type person?


Sunday, 25 September 2011

Smell my Feet

So me and R are going through an adjustment period. 

We are adjusting to how we’re meant to act in the presence of other people again. We’re just not used to it.

It was solely me and R living in our little house for so long, that the prospect of returning to Uni and being in public again is actually quite daunting.

I have forgotten all social and societal normalities.

Then there’s always the fact that we won’t be able to stay in bed and doss about and such things for the majority of the day. There’s crappy boring things like lectures and labs and semina…ZzZzZzZ

It’s dull.

But the other day, on one of our rare ventures out of the house, we were hanging about with our friend S and scoffing our faces with nachos, when, for some odd and unknown reason, the subject of my foot odour came up.

 I would like to point out that my feet do not smell. To prove this fact, I promptly stuck my foot under R’s nose, to which she, with no hesitation…smelt it.

What else are you to do if someone sticks a foot under your nose?


At this point, S was just staring silently at us before declaring that we were entirely too comfortable with each other.


Am I not allowed to do that in public? Did I cross some unspoken, social foot-nose rule? So it’s going to be difficult readjusting to the public lifestyle and not being able to do weird things. R will have to learn that when she needs to burp, it is apparently unacceptable for her to blow it in my face. In the same way that I will have to restrain myself from openly staring at R’s tits all the time.

Rough times.


Friday, 23 September 2011

Fresh Meat

So the start of a new university year obviously means an influx of new students. AKA freshers. Or fresh meat, if you will. 

A few days ago we had our yearly fair where a load of societies, sports teams and local companies get together and present whatever it is they do and hand out oodles of freebies. Though actually, this year, the freebies were not so oodlesome (that’s right, i’m making up words now) – very disappointing when you’re a poverty-ridden student who only has working pens for the year if they were stolen from the aforementioned fair. I think all I managed to forage were a few pitiful sweets and some free food. These fairs are pretty standard for universities in the UK, as are LGBT societies, which T and I are of course members of.

So a new flock of freshers also means a whole gaggle of gays to join our society, or at least hopefully a whole gaggle. But judging by the number of gays I’ve seen (okay, by that I mean people who look gay and I have disgustingly stereotyped and assumed they are) there should be quite a few. Of course I spent a good portion of my time on campus yesterday scouring the crowds for potential fresh meat for the society. Whether they be flamboyant out-and-proud homos or timid newbies to the gay world about to have their first experience of having LGBT friends. 

Either way, it’s very exciting. I remember being one of those new LGBT’ers, simultaneously thrilled at the prospect of having fellow queers to hang out with but also a little intimidated by the big bad gay world. Oh those were the days.

Interestingly a lot of LGBT students don’t actually join the society. Last year I was constantly meeting people who were out and proud and yet had no inclination to be part of our little group (little being an inaccurate description, as we’re actually pretty big). Apparently, and who’d have thought it, LGBT societies do not have the greatest reputation at times. What madness! *cough*Grama*cough*

No doubt T and I will scout the newbies and let you know what we’ve got this year! I for one am quite excited.

- R

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Public Displays of Grimness

Whilst I was cruising last week (the boat kind, not the naughty sex kind) one of the places I visited was Italy, namely Naples and Rome. One of the first things I noticed about certain Italian couples was that they were.... well, perhaps a little too comfortable with their PDA. And by that, I mean they had no qualms with spending a good 20 minutes fervently eating each other’s faces whilst I uncomfortably averted my gaze, only to find it land upon another ravaging couple on the next bench. 

Geez. I was only trying to innocently enjoy a little ice cream in the park, and I was accidentally treated to a live sex show. Okay, slight exaggeration, but let’s roll with it.

I’ve always considered myself to be fairly comfortable with public displays of affection to a certain extent. But this just disturbed me. Perhaps I would have been more at ease if the park was filled with dashing lesbians instead.

Maybe this is just a bit of a cultural difference, or maybe I happened to stumble into the local dogging spot. Who knows. But this got me thinking about what was and was not acceptable. Is there a defined level of affection that is socially allowed in public? Clearly these parameters should be defined so as to avoid the stomach-churning sights detailed above. See exhibit A, badly drawn lusty image.
Why yes, I clearly am something of an artist.

Perhaps T and I should conduct a little social experiment and see just how publicly affectionate we can get until it becomes a massive taboo.

If the blog suddenly goes dead, it’s because we’ve been arrested for indecent exposure or something.

- R

Sunday, 18 September 2011

Sapphic Stalking

And so I’m back in the UK after a weeklong cruise confinement with my family, and more importantly, in an almost incommunicado state unable to speak to T.

There’s really not that much to do on cruise ships unless you’re spouting grey hair, so admittedly I did spend a lot of time sat around in the ship’s bars not really doing all that much except people-watching. During my first day on ship, after realising almost the entirety of the passenger population was solely heterosexual, middle-class and middle-aged, I was perhaps a little too excited to spot what I believed to be a semi-elderly lesbian couple.

Now I do have a bit of a habit of seeing two women together and automatically assuming they are a big old vag-loving duo, after which I’ll quite gladly spend time staring and looking for any signs of sapphism. Sometimes T and I will be strolling through town and see a pair of women who are so blatantly just friends, but we decide they’re obviously raunchy lesbian lovers. Because apparently, in our world, heterosexual friends just don’t exist.

So anyway, in my extreme state of boredom, I did take to intentionally frequenting the same bars as this couple, initially purely to ascertain whether or not they were in fact a wonderful lesbian couple. Now I don’t mean stalking in the sense that I followed them back to their cabin every night. Okay, I did once. But purely accidentally. Their room just happened to be on my corridor, I swear! Maybe it was just nice to see a happy gay couple when I was terribly missing T.

Perhaps next time I should just go on one of those super gay lesbian cruises.

Don’t judge me now. I’m really not a crazy stalker lady who preys on unsuspecting apparent lesbians. But there really is only so much time you can spend in the sole company of your family whilst your girlfriend is hundreds of miles away. And I’m sure I’m not the only one out there who assumes every pair of ladies I see are a coupla dykes. Right...?

- R

Friday, 16 September 2011

Sell my Skivvies?

So one evening, after much wine and the strangely tasty combination of apple schnapps and coke, a conversation between me, R and a group of friends took a disturbing turn.

I was shocked (and oddly interested) to learn that people sell old, worn, gross pants online. And get a lot for them...well...£10. But for a pair of my old worn pants, that seems quite a fortune. At the time, I dimly remember me and R totally being up for selling our used underlings and to hell with the moral/emotional consequences of fuelling some grim person’s fetish for recycled briefs.

Needless to say I investigated further.

It seems that eBay banned this practice under the health and safety side of things, which is fair enough. But there are plentiful sites out there that will happily let you sell them. Apparently you get more for them if pictures come with it and if you commit certain...*ahem*...”acts” whilst wearing them.

The people know what they want.

I even found a site that gave tips on how to get the best prices. Silk underwear sells for more if the person is after the texture, but cotton is best for the customer who has an appetite for...aromas.

I have a feeling it was around this point that my mind started to mentally run screaming in the opposite direction and I stopped my research.
It’s good to have a backup plan for sporadic money making anyway...