Sunday, 25 November 2012

Kinky Tikki: Down the Rabbit Hole

Part 1

Tied up, topless and immobilised onstage in a surreal fetish bar, waiting for the police to rush in and deport me on the spot, I wondered how on earth I’d got there. Well, let’s see….

One of the things I most wanted to do in Tokyo right from the start was to check out some shibari, or erotic rope bondage. Being tied up seems to make me feel instantly relaxed and submissive, and from the few experiences I’d had, I knew I liked it, so what’s a girl to do when she comes to the home of shibari? Get right in there, that’s what. I wasn’t fully prepared for the surreal night I was letting myself in for, though…

Basically, a friend of mine who’s an international expert in rope bondage gave me the contact of  a guy who was big in the Japan scene, so he could introduce me to a couple of places. This sounded great at the time, until I was waiting in one of the grottiest parts of town on my own, to be picked up in the car of this fifty-something guy who had sounded on the phone rather like the phonehacker’s impression of a Nigerian scammer – 'Con ah have your bankaccountdetailll?' I stood there uneasily on a street corner, at a safe distance from the pimps, mentally going over polite ways to back out if he turned out to give me really bad vibes. Thankfully, up rolled a debonair silver fox of a Frenchman in a tiny racing Porsche that already contained his Japanese girlfriend. I felt instantly at ease, and allowed myself to be bundled into the back, where I could barely sit upright, and driven, playboy style, to the club.

Walking in we passed a load of Yakuza – Japanese mafia – whom Silver Fox Frenchie informed me were just there to keep the peace and make sure things ran smoothly. 'Do not bozzer zem and zey will not bozzer you.' Yakuza and wasps – the only difference is that one takes some of your fruit and the other takes some of your profits, apparently.

After becoming a member, they gave me a pink wristband for single females, or as they put it, “lonely girls”, and SFF paid for the whole thing so smoothly and quickly that I only realised it had all happened after I was in. It was a small bar with one main room and a low stage, strung with tacky paper Halloween decorations, childrens’ games like Hungry Hippos and Boppit on each low table, with a pole in the middle of the room, a couples’ room off to one side, and a changing room with a rack of silly costumes. Quintessentially Japanese in its mix of cute and filth. SFF presented me to the two guys who ran the bar – both stars on the Tokyo shibari scene – like a gift. Behind the polite Japanese smiles, their eyes lit up. And low and behold, they were both young and cute. I was a happy bunny, in spite – or maybe because – of being treated like an exotic blonde treat.

Things were slow at first. There were quite a few Japanese guys running around in schoolgirl/sailor costumes and being harmlessly silly, and a girl in a bunny suit who was getting quite a lot of attention. For the first couple of hours I made polite conversation with my benefactor, surveyed the scene and fended off the approaches of drunk Japanese men, which wasn’t difficult, because even in a fetish bar, they’re pretty polite and respectful of personal space. Plus I could just pull the ignorant foreigner card if in doubt. I felt like I’d walked into another world rather, and blinked dazedly, taking it all in and adjusting slowly like someone entering a cave.

Things got a bit more sexual, gradually – a woman got tied up onstage with the top guy who owned the bar – we’ll call him K – another girl got pleasured whilst a guy next to me shone a torch at her lady parts, and other people kept running around with Hitachi magic wands if you don’t know what it is, it’s probably the best known and most used vibrator on the kink/porn scenes, a giant, buzzing, mains powered behemoth of a thing) doing dastardly deeds. 

Bunny girl ended up in a groping pile, which I joined briefly just to see what Japanese boob felt like (underwhelming), and the ridiculously costumed men began wandering around wanking. One wanked at my hair for a little while, about a metre away (remember what I said about personal space even in a fetish bar?!) but I ignored him and he went away. I went back to sit on the sofas and watch SFF tie up his playmate rather nicely onstage, but Bunny Girl was having sex with several different men by this point, and she kept blocking my view. 

I was frankly a little bored, and stifled by the language barrier. Still, I felt I’d achieved what I’d come there to do, and seen some real Japanese shibari, so I contented myself with the fact I could go home a success.

Little did I know what else the night held in store...

Thursday, 22 November 2012

Emotional v Rational: The Waiting Game continues...

ES: So you know this guy at work?

RS: Yeah...

ES: I'm getting a tinsy-weensy bit impatient.

RS: Hmm...Patience was never your virtue.

ES: is just that - I've read the books...if a guy is 'into you' surely you know? Like, he's meant to be chasing you and stuff?

RS: Yes, I guess so.

ES: And he's kind of sending me mixed messages right now. Hot one minute, detached and simply friendly the next. I think he's making up his mind. He pretty much said so in the last text he sent...

RS: So give him some patient.

ES: Yeah but isn't that a BAD sign? That he needs time to make up his mind?! Why can't he instantly see how wonderful I am?

RS: It might not have anything to do with you and everything to do with him.

ES: Hmm.... What if you're just making excuses for him? I just have a bad feeling about this and I'm trying to, you know,...practise self-respect and all that jazz...

RS: Yeah but you're not losing any self-respect right now by simply holding back and waiting. If you go charging in there making demands like a bull in a china shop then you certainly will....

ES: Hmm.... okay, I see your point. I'll try and be patient.

RS: Good - it will be excellent practise for you. Keep me posted.

ES: Hmpf!

Sunday, 18 November 2012

A week of the waiting game

So after four days my impatience wore thin (I was pretty impressed I lasted so long) and I sent Mr Sporty a text:

'So last Saturday night...Have haven't spoken about it...Are we going to?'

I guess sending a text automatically displays my interest but I tried to keep any emotion out of it or to reveal too much. I wish I hadn't been so impatient because he came back with:

'Sure. Hadn't avoided it particularly, just acting normal. Should be a chance over a beer tomorrow.'

I could have held on until the weekend when I knew there would be a chance to talk. During the week my mind had been plagued with various thoughts on the matter and I went from total scrutiny to not giving a f-ck and back again. Sketchy memories of last Saturday night and Sunday morning came back like a boomerang to hit me dully on the side of the head. I cringed at how much I talked...I really need to work on this but its been a battle I've been fighting for years. I used to have a plaque on my school folder which read:

'But your brain into gear before you set your mouth in motion' 

Or something along those lines. It is so true.

Lying in bed, post-coital I actually said to him with no thought and no scrupples:

'Oh you were lucky, I wasn't sure if I was up to it with this hangover, at one point I thought I was going to burp in your mouth.'


Yup, I've got no shame and all the best lines.

And I showed him some stupid cat videos on YouTube...

(don't look at me like that)

...there goes my cool credentials totally. As my dear friend said later in an email quoting Scrubs:

'Deal out your crazy in small doses.'

Apt advice...thought I can't imagine I'll ever learn how to put it into practise.

Anyway...the good news is - despite all of this - he likes me! He must be mental as well because I think he finds these quirks endearing right now... ('right now' being choice words). all looks promising!!!

Or does it?

The guy is 33. He's rather private but he told me he's never had a relationship that lasted a year let alone a couple of months. Why? He wouldn't say...


This is total alarm bells. 

A) It means I now have to be even more cautious and vigilant of my poor 'achey break-y heart' 


B) Even if we get so far it implies that I might have to train him... 

Oh boy! As ever I'll keep you posted.

Saturday, 17 November 2012

Kinky Tikki: Perverse Pilgrim

So you've met Miss Stiffy and you've had our male perspective writer who has yet to choose a name for himself. Now, our fourth and final writer: The wonderful Kinky Tikki!

Perverse pilgrim, warped wanderer, salacious sightseer, I suppose you could call me Franksexual’s 'foreign correspondent'. I’m currently in Tokyo and planning to do more travelling over the next year or so. I’m also, perhaps, your window into a bit of kink. 

I hesitate to describe myself as 'kinky', since in the grand scheme of things I’m pretty laid – back: your conception of what counts as extreme definitely shifts in relation to what you’ve seen, so it’s sort of impossible to put kink on a graph. I usually say that on a scale of vanilla to… err…  liquorice, I’m about cinnamon. 

I’ve tried a few things and floated around the fringes of the kink scene for a few years, but I’m by no means experienced. I do adore the unconventional, challenging and lascivious things in life, though, and I have a tendency to seek them out. Comfort zone? What comfort zone?

When I was asked to write for Franksexual, I must admit I saw it as a challenge. Maybe even an excuse, as though I should need one. I’m now officially TASKED with the job of getting into all sorts of mischief in order to answer those burning questions everybody has about the Japanese sexual underworld, viz:

'Do they really have tiny cocks?'

'Do they all secretly lust after schoolgirls and tentacles?'

'Do they really sell used knickers in vending machines?'

'After all the rape porn they’re inundated with, does “no” kind of mean “yes”?'

'Do all Japanese girls really make that squeaky noise in bed?'

'What do they think of Westerners and our own sex lives?'

So stay with me, dear readers, as I attempt to answer all this and more. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. 

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Men Who Lose Interest After Sex

It is not a hard and fast rule, there are exceptions, but general advice on the street is usually to avoid sleeping with a man until the 3rd date. Hopping into bed with a guy on the first night might mean instant sexual gratification but it can pose problems after if you're looking for something more serious - or even just simply 'some more of the good stuff'.

I have been known to not take this advice often and I have suffered the consequences. Now, I have a bit of a problem with this rule. 

Sometimes you get drunk...

Sometimes you get carried away... (if you're impatient and cock hungry like me)

Sometimes you're not even sure if you like the guy but sleeping with them is a good form of research...

Sometimes you think:

 'Hey! This is the 21st Century, woman have adapted with the pill...come on men! Get modern...'

It seems these thoughts still don't change things. If you find yourself dealing with a guy who has lost interest...I'm afraid it is what it is and all you can do (to keep your self-respect in tact) is to move on.

What you mustn't do is turn bunny boiler and chase're not getting this lost opportunity back.

So...why do I mention this? 

Well, because it is two, almost three days later and I don't know have a clue where I stand with Mr Sporty yet. I have hardly seen him to be fair and it can take a while for the 'mist' to clear.

I've been very well-behaved though. No texts, no chasing, no nothing. Just the odd smile in passing here and there. It really is up to him to decide the next move and this is very important if I want to 'rescue' this and maybe start something.

I don't know if I do want to start something...

But I'd like to also keep my options open as I do fancy him a little and it could be fun. I may have already screwed it up though...

But then, if I was never right or meant to be in the first place. I'll keep you posted anyway...

PS I just also read this article whilst I was doing some research...Even I have to admit I was talking too much in my still drunk stupor the next morning...

Damn it! I always do this! Hmm...not sure the odds are in my favour!

Oh and I love yahoo answers take on this from some random chat room:

Sex is used by women to CREATE bonding and intimacy.
Sex is used by men to DECIDE whether or not we will create bonding and intimacy.

Well there you go...the ball is in his court.

Monday, 12 November 2012

You know how I wrote about options...? surprisingly presented itself -or should I say 'himself' as he is a person - to me on Saturday night. It just goes to show again how wrong I often am about these things. I always think 'nah...that will never happen.' - perhaps I underestimate myself  - and then I'm rather wide-eyed in disbelief and startled when things do actually happen.

It started like a normal night with dinner and some drinks round mine and we then popped out for a few more as it was still early hours. My intention was to then head home...

Fast forward through many red wines, beers and tequila shots and we've got some crazy dance floor antics. Its all a bit blurry (too many dance spins and twirls) but I was talking away as you do and engrossed in conversation and I don't know...the more you drink the more tactile you get... and before I know it I'm being enticed down the road at 3am in some direction nowhere near to home and then I'm waking up at sometime around 10am and wondering where I am and who left the lights on - oh that is actually the sunlight...!!!

I did wake up to a nice view - in more ways than one. His house overlooks the sea. The rest of the morning was spent nursing a hangover, feeling too sick to really move or do much else other than huddle shakily (me, not him) together under a blanket on the sofa. When I finally had the energy he lent me an umbrella and walked me to a place I recognised and I crawled home and into bed.

Before I had even properly digested the evening's events I realised I was due to talk to my Spanish friend on Skype (was it 4 o'clock already!?!) and that I would have to tell him because we don't really keep anything from each other.

I decided to go with the open approach. We're not dating and he's not the jealous type and I'd rather be truthful and totally 'me' with him. I was a little worried though. We talked and it all seemed to go okay but later he got in touch again and we discussed it all a bit more in-depth. I feel better about it now and whilst he isn't glad about my actions he's not upset either. We're 'cool' so to speak.

As for my work colleague...I have to face him today and see how the dust has settled. What this will all lead to I have no idea, no real expectation and I'm in no rush. He's a very nice man so I don't expect any dick head behaviour though.

Oh and in case you're was the Sporty one.... 

Friday, 9 November 2012

Miss Stiffy: I'll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours

Introducing our latest writer: Miss Stiffy, a twenty something lovefool looking for love in all the wrong places, fumbling in her newly found singledom like a furious horny mole.

Modern relationships are a funny thing, hey? The boundaries change from day to day and if you're a bit like me, you're likely to run into trouble at some point. Or crash face first into a wall, completely destroying any shred of dignity you thought you once had.

I suppose after four years in a relationship that I was misguided in thinking that I knew what to expect or that somehow, with age and experience, that I was in the know.

Well, that relationship recently came to what mostly resembles an end. It was all very grown up and matter of fact. You're going to be there for a long time and I'm going to be here so let's just say 'see you later' and hope that one day we do, in fact, actually see each other. In the meantime, lets concentrate on our careers and be all mature and cool and adult about it. Fine, fine. All good. And I genuinely thought it was.

Or at least I did until my super hot guy friend (on whom I secretly had a crush) from the coffee shop got in contact after a few months of my being in the single world. 

It all started with an innocent picture of a chocolate pumpkin on my lap but before I knew it (what's that behind the pumpkin?) it was rapidly resembling something more like soft porn. I guess that sometimes happens when you've got a whole bunch of pent up frustration you didn't realise you had and needed to vent.

And so our deal was tit for tat. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Oh the wonders and immediacy of modern technology! From chocolate pumpkin to papping my own breasts in the mirror. I felt completely comfortable in forging ahead, pausing only momentarily to think 'is this really slutty?' and brushing it off. We were equals. We had each denied wanting it for such a long time and were now comparing notes. Both plunging into the pool of pure filth hand in hand. These are contemporary times and, what's more, I bloody felt like it. Plus, we're both adults, you know? You know? (Please tell me you know?)

It was scintillating. It was delicious and it made me feel really damn good. Your totally cool chica. That's me. Showing my vag to the coffee boy in exchange for his lovely penis.

Well, fast forward a full month and there has yet to be another word from coffee boy's mouth and obviously I'm not. fecking. impressed. However, what I'm mostly not impressed with is not that fact that he is ignoring me (even though it's the mark of a totally vile beast) but a few words a girly friend of mine dared to utter when I regaled her with my sorry sordid story.

 'Well, what did you expect? Of course he was going to ignore you after.' 

'Erm. I'm sorry. Come again? Did you actually just say and imply what I think you just said and implied?!'

I suppose I'm the fool. Of course! What did I expect? Naturally if you show someone your vagina in exchange for their cock then you're a slut and that gives any guy the go-ahead pass to completely deny your existence the following day. Oh and it's all your own stupid fault. It's not as if we're both supposed to be adults just having a little girl on guy fun. It's not because as women we have become sexually liberated and it's certainly not because we're equals, he and I. 

Oh no, because girls shouldn't be like that, should they?  

When he asked me what was behind the chocolate pumpkin, I should have said 

'My 100 denier Marks and Spencers tights thanks'

and saved the trouble.

Silly me. Silly boy. Silly fucking vagina.

P.S I love my vagina, really. 

Sunday, 4 November 2012

What are my options?!

So I am in Spain and I want to learn Spanish...

Many bright sparks tell me knowingly: ' Find yourself a Spanish boyfriend....'

Well...okay, thanks for the tip...but where? I teach teenagers and kids and I don't come across many tasty male Spaniards, unless you count my banker but he's average and if I f-ck that up then who will help me with my banking?!

There is my Spanish friend but we've already covered that ground though he is a great asset.

Ok Cupid is another place to turn but seriously...?! I think I must be too fussy as every person on there seems to be a moron.

What is it with dating sites? All the men look like they are posing - don't get me started on photos of men holding up their iphones as they snap themselves in the mirror!!! I hate it! - or they write just the most pretentious stuff when engaging with you.

The last suitor was getting all excited and kinky one minute after only a few lines of conversation, inviting me to chat on whatsapp (no thanks...not until I know you're not a weirdo that I can't shake loose), and the next he was asking me if I wanted to go for a blueberry tea....Bizarre.

Anyway he looked like the son, Neil, of hotel owners from Dirty Dancing - you know who I mean? (see photo if not) The cheesy, arrogant twatbag who wants to dance 'The Pechanga!' I stopped writing back as I often do when they fail to impress me.

So I look around me and I end up focussing my attention on my male colleagues who are a rather decent and lovely bunch of gentlemen. Except they are English...Hmm...

But in terms of talent it is still worth consideration, (they aren't unattractive and they are very nice)...except that's as far as I get there too. One or two of them might be worthy of a fling but in terms of something substantial I think I'd be wasting my time. Let's break it down and consider the three contenders:

The Sporty One

Possibly the most attractive. Tall, lean, bearded...bright, expressive eyes and a nice smile. Very chatty and intelligent and probably the best option. Except he's often out doing his own thing and he's too into football for my liking and healthy living and sport...I don't mind this but I need someone who is sometimes a bit of a deviant and the occasional couch potato. I promised myself this after my long term ex.

The Friendly One

Lots in common and lots to talk about. A really interesting and lovely guy...except he's riddled with surgical scars, he's shorter than me (total no-no) and he's just not my type. Plus he seems a lot older than he actually is - not that this is a bad thing, just saying...

The Nowhere Man

Also attractive with a nice body from climbing regularly - he looks excellent for his age in terms of physical fitness - but he's quiet and a drifter who admitted to me that he's secretly somewhat depressed.  He doesn't know where he's going to and he needs to work this out. He's floated from one station to the next all his life without what seems to be any real consideration or passion. Once he knows what he wants I think his life will become easier. Though when this will be looks uncertain. The last thing he needs is someone clouding his vision and I don't want to appear to be a solution as I wouldn't be. I'd just become a problem.

So...the well is dry. Not ideal when I am meant to be writing about relationships and sex... Fortunately there are other writers who can contribute and there are always the archives! You'll just have to bear with me I'm afraid!