Two ideas, unrelated, but with a common theme. A change of name.


I’m sure I’m not alone in regarding sex blogging as being simultaneously an isolated activity and gratifyingly connected. It’s a lot like wanking: lot’s of us do it, and usually on their own, but who doesn’t enjoy having someone else watch us do it? [Ed: That’s not just AM, is it?] And if we’re lucky, occasionally we get to meet fellow wankers [Ed: Please excuse AM – we get to meet fellow …] sex bloggers and talk about wanking [Ed: Sorry – we get to talk about …] blogging.

Just as Kelis’ milkshake brought all the boys to the yard, Molly’s Eroticon recently brought all the wankers [Ed: We really are so very sorry. We don’t know what’s got into AM today. Molly’s Eroticon recently brought all the …] sex bloggers to London. They came from near and far, and I would have gone too, were it not for what would have been an inevitably incredulous spousal question – You want to go all the way into London for a conference on what …!?

At least I could make time to meet up with one fellow blogger. While we spent an all to brief lunchtime chatting openly about what does (or in my case doesn’t) go on behind closed doors, were the young couple sat behind us so board of each other that they could not bring themselves to speak, or were they just stunned by our frank conversation? (Not that I think we were excessively shameless – far more intimate details are disclosed barely after the watershed on TV.) And amidst the discussion of my unrequited libido, and not being ashamed to be highly sexual, my companion suggested I should perhaps rename my blog – The Sexless Slut.
I like it!
Perhaps, in the highly unlikely event that I do acquaint my Wife with (a highly edited version of)  my sex blog, as I would ideally like, I could brand it as The Sexless Slut.


You will have read mention of my My Little Wooden Chest Of Naughty Secrets on various occasions over the years, Loyal Reader. Well, contrary to what my lunchtime companion has asserted, size does matter. Bigger is better. (She claims she’s not that fussy, but given her historical acclamations, I’ll wager that, all else being equal, if given the choice between a well maneuvered, modest 5″ member and a well hung, marauding, mammoth 12″ monster … well, you can take the big dick out of the girl, but you can’t take the … oh, you know where I’m going with that, Despairing Reader.)

But I’m not talking about dicks.

Sooner or later, we all need to upgrade. It could be the aging operating system on our out-of-date PC which now struggles with compatibility, or it could be our aging relationship which creaks under the weight of incompatibility.
For me, it was a box that needed upgrading.
My little wooden chest of naughty secrets.
35 years ago, when I as at boarding school, it was my tuck box.

[Ed: You know how everyone gets a nickname at boarding school – usually a shortened version of their real name? Well AM was just known as A Wanker.]

Even before I moved in with my Wife (though long after I left boarding school), the lockable box proved an excellent place to store my porn collection. When I started to acquired sex toys, it was the obvious place for them too. As it was, ultimately, for my collection of thongs and latex fetishwear.

Until it became clear I had too much.
Well, not too much per se. Just too much to fit in the box!!!
{Ed: Can you ever have too much in the way of porn, sex toys, lingerie and rubberwear?]

The porno movies were secreted at the back of my desk. The thongs had had to migrate to the back of my underwear drawer where there was a chance of discovery, and a pair of steel doughnuts (that could so easily have been mistaken as some sort of engineering artifact by those not familiar with the fetish of ball stretching) resided undisturbed on a high shelf. As my perverted possessions proliferated, something needed to be done!

Enter the Suitcase Of Salacious & Sordid Secrets.

Of course, My Little Wooden Chest Of Naughty Secrets still has a valued role, and now contains only the VHS tapes and most of the books, mags and vintage erotic postcards. It’s sort of my Box Of Porn.

Meanwhile, the ball stretchers, cock rings, penis plugs, chastity cage, hand-cuffs, butt plugs, masturbators, thongs, G-strings, manties, Epilady, and various latex outfits, are all now neatly tucked away under my bed in the Suitcase Of Salacious & Sordid Secrets.


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