Missing In Action (Or Is That Inaction?)

Share Our ShitI seem to be on a bit of a smutty hiatus. There are a number of reasons for this: my moods, work stealing too much of my time, a general lack of interest in life. Mainly though, it’s simply that I have a total lack of inspiration when it comes to having anything to write about. The very fact that I am writing this #SoSS post on a Monday is pretty much symptomatic of my current malaise.

I look at the prompts from #MasturbationMonday and #WickedWednesday and I find that, for the present at least, I have nothing to say. I read the questions on #TMITuesday and #F4TFriday and I realise that I have no answers.

This is not in anyway a criticism of Kayla, Marie, Molly and the others who organise and contribute to those memes, it is a reflection of a certain emptiness of spirit, a lack of inspiration, and a dearth of ideas that currently taken hold of my creative consciousness.

Thankfully, I still have my photographs. Even here though, inspiration is somewhat lacking. Even though I am participating in #FebPhotoFest, only three of my submissions were taken specifically for this year’s event. The rest were ones that I had that I had taken as possible submissions for #SinfulSunday, or my own #SexualArtistry, but had never got around to using. Even allowing for the three photos that are “original content”, every single post that you will have seen posted during February was actually uploaded and queued before the month had even began.

I’m not sure if that makes me a fraud, or just extremely well organised; either way, it just further emphasises the creative rut I am currently in.



A Month Of (Sinful) Sundays

Share Our ShitFebruary is one of my favourite blogging months. It is the month that Molly unleashes yet another of her wonderful blogging projects: #FebPhotoFest. If you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s a bit like #SinfulSunday, but on steroids. It’s where a group of bloggers decide to rise to the challenge of posting a photo every day for a whole month. It’s like a month of Sundays, where all of those Sundays are of the “Sinful” variety.

With that in mind, I cannot recommend highly enough that you head straight on over to the #FebPhotoFest page where 34 bloggers (including my hirsute alter ego) are sharing our shit photographically.

I’m pretty sure you won’t be disappointed by what you find there.



Share Our ShitI suspect most people are aware I have a bit of a thing for black and white photography. There is something about it that I find so much more intensely sensual and erotic than I do full colour imagery. To that end, I, like a lot of us have a tumblr blog, where I share a combination of images that I like that others have posted, as well as some of my own images.

Every now and then, however, one of my fellow bloggers posts an image that I really like and I ask them if they be happy for me to reblog their images  on my tumblr blog. Today’s #SoSS post is a “thank you!” to those who have allowed me to share so far.


It Started With A Dick Pic

Share Our ShitBefore I go any further, I should point out that I was coerced; honest m’lud…

I’ll get to the meat of this (as it were) in a bit, but first of all, I’ll back up a bit.

Under the guise of my hirsute alter ego, I had been tweeting and posting naughty stories since early 2011. I had, in fact, been posting stories online since about 2001, but it was during a period of illness in early 2011 that I discovered twitter, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Although I had a blog, of sorts, on which to post my stories, I wasn’t actually a blogger as such. I did the odd bit of writing as the mood and inspiration took me, and that was as far as it went.

My writing did, however, bring me into contact with other writers of erotica, and from there I discovered that there was a rich and vibrant online community of writers and bloggers with whom I identified with and was becoming increasingly a part of. I still wasn’t a blogger though.

Very much still a lurker, I began commenting on the blogs that I was reading. Those comments meant that other visitors to those blogs “discovered” my site and started visiting and commenting on my work. A certain momentum was inexorably building.

Enter (not in the biblical sense) two very persuasive women, Cheryl Kaye and Charlie Powell (or @HornyGeekGirl or @sexblogofsorts to use their twitter names) and we get, eventually, to the point of this post.

Between them they waxed lyrical about the dearth of male sex bloggers and how much they wished for “more cock on #SinfulSunday“. Eventually I took the bait and, three years ago this weekend, I posted my very first #SinfulSunday submission.

I had actually guest posted on Cheryl’s blog a few weeks earlier and, thanks to the favourable reaction my photos were receiving, I would later re-post that article on my own blog as another of my #SinfulSunday entries.

So there you have it, the story of how this introverted occasional peddler of filth was unleashed on an unexpecting internet.

Cheryl/Charlie, if you are reading this, the credit/blame is all yours…


Time & Distance

Wicked WednesdayIt starts, as it so often does, with an early morning text message. It’s not even a particularly naughty one; often no more than a “Good morning” or “Did you sleep well?” The scene, however, is already set.

As the morning progresses, the level of suggestion in the exchanged messages deepen.  Selected pins from Pinterest are used to convey desire, to express what is being felt, to emphasis what we would do if we weren’t miles apart, if the hours instantly passed and we were together.

The ante is upped as the quotes make way for the images from Tumblr; each one that little bit more explicit, more graphic than the last, each one a statement of intent.

As the day progresses we tease and arouse and seduce each other with words and images. She knows I long to taste her, to lick her and feast on her until she cums hard on the tip of my tongue. I know she wants to take me in her mouth, to lick and suck that part of me that she has made so hard.

We both know what we want and need, and that is each other; skin against skin, our lips pressed together, me inside her, our bodies joined.

As the clock ticks down the minutes of the last hour of separation we enter the calm before the storm.

My phone flashes. “I’m home” it reads.

“On my way” I reply.

“Let yourself in, I’m waiting for you…”


Shades Of Grey

Wicked WednesdayIt’s no secret that I have a “thing” for black and white photography. It would, I guess, have made sense if I tackled this week’s prompt by perhaps focusing it around one of my own photos. I was actually tempted, but then I thought I’d come at it, as it were, from a slightly different perspective. So, instead of focusing on imagery, I decided to look at “grey areas”.

Relationships and, in particular, sexual relationships, all have their own dynamics; their own “rules” that make them work.  Each relationship is as unique as the individuals that make it up, and as such, there are no absolute “right” or “wrong” answers to the particular question I decided to ponder; there are only answers that are “right” or possibly “wrong” to the individuals in a relationship, within the context of that particular relationship.

The particular question in question was, courtesy of an article in a popular free newspaper often found on public transport, this:

In a monogamous relationship what constitutes cheating?

Is sexting cheating? A stolen kiss at a party? What about enjoying sexual fantasies about a co-worker or your spouse’s friend?

Where is the line?

The question, you will notice, concentrates on monogamous relationships. Why this should be, I’m not sure. I sometimes think the vanilla world sees the non-mono world as some sort of free for all, and that cheating is impossible in a non-mono context. That is, of course, bollocks but is, perhaps, a topic that deserves a post in its own right.

I can only assume that there is an assumption that in a monogamous setting, due to it being more “restrictive”, things are, perhaps, more clear cut, more, shall we say, black and white.

Let’s just say that when I was married, the only person (until very near the end when it was pretty much all over bar the shouting and the tears) that I had a physical sexual relationship with was my wife. For 15 and a half of the 16 years we were together, the only person that I had sex with was her. That the same cannot be said in reverse, is a different matter and, maybe, something for a different post.

Let’s take the above scenarios in reverse.

Personally, I think these are fine and, for the most part harmless. What goes on in our heads doesn’t harm anyone and, in the main, probably benefits both parties in a relationship in terms of arousal and how that translates to a given sexual experience.  There is, of course, a fine line between fantasy and obsession and obsession can become dangerous but, sticking purely to fantasies, whether they be about some celebrity, a colleague, a friend, or possibly just a slightly different version of your partner, on the whole I believe they probably benefit the relationship more than they harm it and do not count as cheating in any way. Whether or not you choose to share those fantasies with your significant other is, of course, an entirely different matter. Personally, for me, it’s always been a case of what goes on in my mind, stays in my mind.

The stolen kiss
This, for me, is a grey area. I, personally, have never done it. Unlike fantasy, this is an actual encounter. What was in the kiss? Was it a “friendly” peck, or was it an expression of something that is always fated not to be?  After all, there are kisses and there are kisses. If it’s just a kiss, a display of affection, nothing more, then it’s probably nothing. If it’s a full on snog that is an expression of what could happen, then I would say the line has been crossed. If the kiss is sexual in nature, even if no actual sex occurs, a boundary has been blurred, in my opinion, if not actually crossed.

This is a difficult one for me.  Yes, I do it. Yes, even when I was married, I occasionally did it. Not as an expression of intent, per se, but as a pretty extreme form of flirting. Now, flirting, I believe, does not count. I am a flirt, most people flirt; it is (I suspect) a natural part of the male/female human interaction. We are, after all, sexual creatures, and monogamous (I believe) only through choice, not design. Sexual attraction, whether we recognise it as such or not, is a natural thing. Flirting is a natural expression of that most basic element of interaction between the sexes. In the main, it’s fun and it’s harmless and, so long as it stays like that, no harm is done if both parties are willing to play along. Of course when one party isn’t willing, that way leads to sexual harassment. Sexting is a form of flirting. It’s a particularly modern form of flirting resulting from the technology that we employ, but it is, I guess, no different from the sending of salacious letters that happened in the past. Again, I think, much depends on intent and content. A slightly smutty, off-colour comment is one thing, sending a three minute video of you masturbating along with the comment “Wish it was you doing this to me” is another. There is a spectrum of behaviour and, the line lies somewhere along that spectrum. When I was married, I’d have happily swapped flirty texts with someone, I would never have sent them photos of my penis.  For me, at that time, the line lay somewhere between those two points.

A further complication is that each person in the relationship will have their own definition as to what is “acceptable” and what isn’t. Sadly, in many cases, human nature being what it is, people may apply a different standard to their own conduct as opposed to what they deem acceptable from their partner. Is this hypocritical? Yes, but as with so many things, when it comes to sex, humans find it very easy to be hypocrites; frequently unconsciously or unintentionally.

The important thing, in my opinion, is that the definition of “cheating” is unique to the relationship that it is applied to. It is an internal thing that really only the parties in the relationship can call, because only they really know and understand how their relationship works.

So, yeah, it’s a tricky one to answer and I suspect there will be as many views as there are people expressing them. My own “bottom line” I guess is that every relationship is a kind of contract entered into by the participants on that relationship. As I said above, every relationship will have its own particular “rules” that will develop and change over time. If you break the “rules”, whether they be explicit or implicit, of the particular relationship you are in, and that in doing so you cause pain to the other participant(s), then the chances are the word “cheat” probably applies.


To Cock, Or Not To Cock

Penis ProjectFor some reason, known only to the random patterns of electrons and collections of ones and zeros that make up the internet, the search term that most frequently directs people to my blogs is “Cock Pics”. Almost every month, without fail, if it isn’t the top search term, it is in the top two or three. This got me thinking, do I really display my penis that often?

To date, I have posted 125 photos on over my photo blog. Of these, my penis has been fully visible in 30 of them. So, 24%, or  as near as damn it a quarter of them. That’s a reasonably significant fraction of my photos that feature my significant fraction. Having said that, my arse features in 36 photos.

Of those 30 photos in which my penis makes an appearance, in the vast majority of cases, it has at best a cameo, or supporting role. Only in four posts could it be said to have the star billing, namely:

Now, granted, in “Penile Bombardment” you get four views for the price of one, but it was kind of incidental to the point I was making. “Dick(ie) Bow;” and “Christmas Is A Cumming…” are clearly intended to be at least mildly humourous. That basically leaves ““A” Is For Awakening” as the sole gratuitous “Cock Pic”.

Being a male blogger, and in particular, being a male blogger who posts naked photos of myself, it requires some thought as to which area of my body to focus on. Some readers like my hands, some my arms, others my shoulders. Some like my back, some like my chest, some like my arse, and some do actually like my penis.

By and large, however, with the exception of those four posts mentioned above, while my penis may be visible, it is not the focus of my photo. Depending on the viewer, the eye may be drawn towards it, but its presence is simply a side effect of me being both male and naked.

Do I feel any compulsion to show it off? No, not really; it’s just there, a part of me, just like any other part of me. If it makes an appearance in a photo (the aforementioned posts excepted), it is simply because it happens to be in shot, or in some way necessary to make a particular photo work.

I’m not saying my photos aren’t sexual; some people may find them extremely so. It’s simply that, by having a very relaxed attitude to nakedness, I have a different perspective.


Split Personalities

Like many people on the “darker” fringes of the blogging world, I split my online presence into Certificate-U “Vanilla” and Certificate-18 “NSFW” categories.  To keep them separate, and to avoid the risk of crossover, I even go so far as to use different apps for each; Google Chrome for Cert-U and Mozilla for Cert-18, Twitter App for Cert-U, Tweetcaster/Tweetdeck for Cert-18.

Even with that, my devices still sometimes try to merge my contacts across both personae, or suggest that one me might know the other me.

I suspect that this is not uncommon for members of this particular online community; a community where we balance openness with a need for privacy/discretion. Some people are fully out, and I am sometimes a little envious of their ability to walk freely among us; but I suspect the majority of us live much more anonymous/pseudonymous lives.

My situation is slightly more confusing.  Not intentionally, but it’s ended up that way. My NSFW side now has three blogs split across two personae.


As I said, accidental, not intentional.

I used to lump all things NSFW under the Kilted Wookie persona. My stories, my photographs and my thoughts and observations were all lumped together in one blog. It was simple. It worked.

Only one problem, my mental health

About a year ago I went through a bit of a meltdown. I tore everything down. I deleted pretty much everything to do with Kilted Wookie. The only exception was Twitter. Even there I actually deleted all the tweets from the account.  I didn’t delete the account itself because KW was and had been a very big part of me, and even if I wasn’t using that persona, I didn’t want anyone else adopting it, so I kept the account and left it dormant.

After a while, I relented to an extent, and put my stories, back online. I haven’t written any new ones, but they are still there for people to read and (hopefully) enjoy. I was still dormant in the community, but I at least had a presence.

Some of you may know that, writing (if you can dignify my efforts as such) aside, my big passion is photography. Now, in addition to the wonderful #SinfulSunday meme (of which I have been a participant of since 2015, Molly also runs February Photo Fest. It just so happened that by the time this year’s collection rolled around, I was in a much better place mentally. I also had a bucket load of photos that I had taken as potential #SinfulSunday  posts, but had never got around to sharing. I decided to take the plunge; #NaughtyHastags was born.

There was one small snag: TWITTER.

I still had the account, but I couldn’t remember the password. As part of the online purge, I had also deleted the email account that was associated with @Kilted_Wookie. The result was that I had no way back into that account and so, I became @ZenNudist.

Ultimately, by sheer fluke, the KW password insinuated itself back into my consciousness, and I was able to link up the photo blog to it (the writing blog had always been attached so if I had actually done any writing, that would have come through). By then though, @ZenNudist had become my established identity on Twitter and it would have been probably even more confusing than it already was to move back and re-establish @Kilted_Wookie.

So, there you have it: the mixed up, slightly strange journey to how I became two versions of the same person, with three different blogs, simultaneously.

Confused? I am, so I could hardly blame you if you are.