Saturday, January 27, 2007

Minus Libido

I wake up today and it is a relatively nice morning. We’ve been having a fair share of sunlight lately. And an unseasonably warm winter is really something that us Singaporeans can’t complain about.

I instinctively roll over to reach for my trusty vibrator, except…

Except...err Houston, we may have a problem.

I hold the implement with increasing pressure against my clit, moving it down to the lips of my pussy and then back again. Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt the mechanical pulses resonate down my intimate tissue. I writhe urgently against the sheets, my mind flitting through its archives of favourite fantasies, longing, desiring, waiting… something…

Anything…

Hello? Is there life on Venus?

Evidently not! I blame God. I blame SARS. And I blame the antibiotics.

I finally orgasm after 15 minutes. (F-I-F-T-E-E-N minutes, people.) And then, only because I'm blue in the face and my clit has been beaten into resentful submission by my vibrator’s thriller speed Rotate-Whirl-Take-Out-The-Laundry combo.

Numbed nether regions aside, I discover that life really does suck with a drug-diminished sex drive for all the following reasons:

a. No urge to wank in the morning means I actually get to work on time.

b. No urge to wank mid-day means the office toilet seats have a fighting chance of staying dry.

c. No urge to wank in the evening means I can have sensible hobbies like vacuuming and stamp collecting.

Yes, no urge to wank makes Sash a very productive human being but a very sad girl.

So. That said, while azythromycin beats the crap out of my lingering throat infection and libido, I’ll be doing up some old stories from last year that I started but didn’t get to finish for one reason or another. So forgive me if the blog’s a bit chronologically impaired but everything will catch up at some point, I promise.

Until then, happy reading!

Monday, January 15, 2007

And Now, For Some Wank Fodder...

A new year, a new profile and a new perspective. At least now you get a facial.

I also wanted to customise a new look for the blog and got as far as turning everything a noxious shade of magenta before I realised the new Blogger template made all my Haloscan comments disappear. I reverted back to Missionary Minima in a huff.

Sorry to sound whiney but will somebody give this technologically-challenged girl a few clues?

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Naked

It takes a certain kind of person to take their clothes off in public, in front of a bunch of strangers. For money.

And then, it takes a whole different kind of person to take their clothes off in public, in front of their friends (the ones they will have to make eye contact with again under sober circumstances). For free.

And enjoy it.

In my defense, I will say it was for a friend’s birthday. I was a little drunk. And there were a group of us taking our clothes off – maybe not all off, nor with as much wild abandon – but we were definitely egging each other on. So what can I say, safety in numbers.

Or so I tell myself.

The thing is, I love being naked. I love the frankness of nudity, the lack of guile, the insouciance of being able to say to the world at large here-I-am-and-here-are-my-jiggly-bits. (Note: I do try to keep in okay shape generally, just so it’s not too much of an imposition if there’s an audience involved.)

I sleep naked, I do the dishes naked, I blog naked and if I could go out naked (save a pair of Fendi boots, in case the temperature drops), I would.

It is the purest of pleasures to feel my body interact with the atoms around it – my tiny body-hairs bristling against the cold, my malleable bottom negotiating a wooden stool, my arm coming to blows with an unexpected corner, leaving a stain.

It feels authentic, elemental, natural. Like I am having a conversation with the universe.

I suppose some part of this philosophy translates into a fierce aversion to all things underwear. I don’t understand the need for tights, pantyhose or pieces of string obstructing the flow of air to vital body parts that need to stay fresh and spontaneous. Who knows when or where I might desire a quick poke? Or a surreptitious wank? Or just a bracing gust of wind between my cheeks, for that matter.

It’s a compromise really, but my reasoning is this: if I have to wear clothes for the sake of everyone else’s sanity, I will be as naked as possible underneath them. For myself.

Granted, I would freeze my arse off – literally – in a city that had a real winter i.e. Chicago, New York, London, Tokyo. But thankfully, here in Hong Kong everyone just likes to pretend. So they can wear minks. And eat cake. And sniff in disdain at those of us who wear cardigans from Giordano.

I was not always such a self-actualised naturist. I grew up with the typical brand of Singaporean propriety forced down my throat. My BeeDees bras were cotton, my uniforms below the knee, my buttons done up to my collarbone. Nudity was shameful and my dad would berate my mom frequently for just walking to the kitchen to get a drink in her t-shirt and underwear.

What will the children think, he would scold.

Of course, all my brother and I thought was, oh there’s Mom in her t-shirt and underwear getting a drink. My parents were about 15 years into their marriage at that point so Mom’s underwear didn’t quite consist of a blood-red garter and an Agent Provocateur thong, if you know what I mean.

Anyway the risk of censure didn’t stop me from rolling myself up in a carpet without a stitch when I was ten or regularly kicking off my pyjama bottoms in the middle of the night when I was twelve or once, standing outside in a storm until my clothes soaked through and stuck to me like a second skin.

But it took years of active defiance to get over all that social conditioning. And I can’t say I’ve looked back since.

Which brings us to a neon-lighted stage in an undisclosed Wanchai location with my tits hanging out, I suppose. It’s a slow night. We have the bar to ourselves, save the mamasan and a few working girls, who are all avidly watching or participating anyway. My Brazilian Girls CD is playing and I’m watching another friend en deshabille spanking one of the bargirls with a star-shaped riding crop.

We’re all laughing. The liberal vodka shots have just begun to hit, we’re flushed, we can barely walk straight, we’re happy and now, we’re best of friends.

Funny how a bit of tits and arse will do that for people.

Monday, January 01, 2007

Sash's Greatest Hits 2006

I know I know, I don’t post frequently enough.

But it’s difficult to when you have an Asian work ethic (last 2 months have been hectic), an earthquake (HK’s Internet lines are still patchy), unseasonably balmy weather (my summer party dresses are enjoying a good December run) and visiting family to contend with. Wanking hours have been cut down to a minimum and restricted to the office toilet. And of late, I’ve even been caught eating real cereal i.e. not Coco-Pops for breakfast.

So life’s a little topsy-turvy in Sashville at the moment (not that I’m complaining).

That said, it’s the first post of the year folks, and I’ve had a real blast. I really haven’t felt so completely blissed-out with life for a long while. Thanks for sticking with me through the various lascivious and lustful updates of 2006. I can’t ask for a more patient and loyal audience to put up with my sporadic spurts of inspired filth than you.

So before I throw myself madly into 2007, I’ve been feeling a tad sentimental bidding farewell to 2006. And I wanted to do a quick round-up of things / people / events that have made the last 12 months so special for me.

This is a pretty personal list so not all of it can be found in the archives. But bear with me, if not for commemoration’s sake than for just a tiny glimpse of what makes your favourite Singaporean sex-blogger twitch…


*****
Three words – Some will say I capitulated, but really, I took a deep breath and jumped. Plunged, rather. Into the abyss with the sexiest, naughtiest, most wonderful man I’ve known (and I can statistically say I’ve known a fair share). Together we’ve embarked on a journey of iniquity that I couldn’t have traveled on my own.
Best of all, long-time readers, I owe you the scoop. You know him too. He is mentioned throughout this blog under the moniker that starts with A. And you’ve been wanking to our adventures for a while now. See if you can spot him!

*****
Girls girls girls – My bisexual quotient kicked off at maybe 20% in 2005 but has risen faster than the price of oil in 2006. I love women and everything about them. Their silky skin, their musical moans, their sensuality.

And the challenge of getting bi-curiosity to kill the cat? Priceless. There’s cock involved in all this somewhere, but I can’t remember.
*****
Groups – Love me, love my friends. Yes, in doggy-position with your hand tight around their wrists, please.

Over 2006, I managed to persuade a good number of my friends to join me in some manner of group activity, moi presiding (champagne and riding crop in hand). Even if they were just directing a documentary or fucking on the same bed or attacking me in a 69, there were always laughs, orgasms and the memorable anecdotes all round.
*****
Toys – The greatest funnel for my disposable income – over and above Manolo Blahniks – has been my burgeoning toy collection. And it’s obvious I don’t mean Barbie. It’s gotten to the point where it’s now a little difficult to know where to put them all. Just so my neighbours don’t think I live in a dungeon. Unsuspecting customs officials beware.
*****
Exhibitions – My reasonably easygoing attitude towards underwear i.e. the less the better resulted a few unusual crotch appearances, generally to wide acclaim, or so I like to think. This included a pearl thong parade in front of 25 lesbians and straddling a pole in a Wanchai strip club.

I blame the Brazilian in me.
*****
CrazySexy People – The diversity of people I’ve met this year who have enriched my sexual perspective has been just wonderful. I give Hong Kong a lot of credit for this. Not that these people don’t exist in Singapore, they’re just further under the radar and from my personal experience, less likely to walk down the street wearing a t-shirt saying “I’m bisexual, kinky and polyamorous, but I’m still not sleeping with you”.
So just a big shout out to my peeps. (Ha!) Everyone from Hong Kong’s favourite sexologist, sexperts, swingers, strippers, sex toy designers, fetishists, MILFs and just generally open-minded uninhibited individuals.

And last but not least, to you. Thanks for sticking around, boys and girls. I’ll do you proud, I promise.
Happy 2007. Have a squirting one – on me. :)