Getting windy here……..

So yesterday afternoon I was attending a meeting in our Boardroom; we were all sitting there quietly, studying some documentation we had been handed when suddenly through the silence, the faint but very discernible sound of a fart was heard emanating from a person unknown. I say a fart but it was more a polite parp than a full on blower, the kind most likely let off by somebody who had desperately but unsuccessfully tried their best to hold it in. I resisted the temptation to say “nice one” and instead carried on reading and sniggered quietly to myself. Nobody acknowledged what had just happened but it sounded to me like a lady fart and there were just two ladies present. So it was either Ann or Caroline.

Anyway it got me thinking about farts, they’re funny aren’t they? Farts……even the word fart is funny. Just mention it in conversation and people start smiling…. Well I do anyway. Makes me think that whoever or whatever created us had a sense of humor. He could easily have designed farts to be silent when he had us up on the drawing board, but no, he went with the “lets make them loud and funny to embarrass the perpetrator and give everybody else a cheap laugh.”

I have a few pleasant memories involving farts going right back to my childhood years. I still think fondly of my days served as an alter boy in our small rural church. I can recall more than instance where we were berated by the priest after Mass for sniggering uncontrollably on the altar after the sound of silence was broken (literally) by a whopper of a fart. It was almost always John Burke who was responsible for these emissions; we knew this because he always followed up with a loud guttural cough, as if to disguise his previous indiscretion after the event.

Then there was my buddy Tony (not his real name) who is now the MD of a Multinational Company. Tony had a talent for being consistently able to have an SBD (silent but deadly) brewing, ready to knock out at a moments notice. I was always envious of this ability he possessed though I suspect it was aided in no small way by his refusal to ever visit the upper echelons of the Food Pyramid. Tony drove a battered Volkswagen Beetle and loved picking up hitch hikers. Whenever he spotted a lone hiker (he was cute enough not to chance it with more than one), he would wind up his window, wiggle his arse and envelop his surroundings with the noxious odor of whatever shite he had been eating the previous evening. He derived a devious satisfaction from welcoming his victim on board while nonchalantly pretending nothing was untoward in his little world.

Finally, I pay tribute to Donal (also not his real name), a student and part time summer temp I had the pleasure of working with many years ago. Donal’s party piece was lighting his farts; like Tony I was also impressed with this man’s ability to perform his magnificent act on request. Donal would lay back slightly on a chair, legs akimbo, gusset in full view and request a volunteer to place a lit match in front of his arsehole on his signal. The money shot was like a blowtorch, shooting out multicoloured plumes of rainbows. Oh how we laughed and cheered. Just once I remember, in a misjudged attempt to sate the baying crowds (well, 3 of us anyway) he accidentally shit his pants. But that didn’t perturb our Donal. Following a quick wardrobe change he was good to go again, a performer to the end. Just as I write this I also recollect the unfortunate but not too bright volunteer who once bore witness to this amazing feat. Not happy with his view he moved closer only to spend the next week trying to explain to all and sundry how he had managed to singe both of his eyebrows.

I know some of you Sapiosexuals out there might consider all this talk a bit lowbrow but you know what, its good to be silly sometimes, have a laugh and hopefully not shit your pants in the process…like Donal did.

As a gangly teenager growing up in rural Ireland my first love was music and I revelled in discovering new and wonderful sounds each and every day. I had two musical heroes, well, when I say heroes what I mean is that when I closed my eyes and became the rock-star of my fantasies I wanted to be either one of two people. The first was Ray Manzarek, keyboard played with The Doors, the second and probably my first real musical hero was Jon Lord, keyboard player and founding member of Deep Purple. Jon co wrote many Deep Purple classics including Smoke on the Water and his keyboard flourishes played seminal parts in classics such as Highway Star and Space Truckin. His organ intro to Child in Time while brief, is one of my all time favorite musical pieces,trumped only by Jimi Hendrix guitar solo on All Along the Watchtower. It was briefly my iPhone ring tone until I determined I may in fact be doing Jon a disservice by using it. To my teenage eyes he was the personification of cool with his long hair and manicured mustache, quietly spoken but man could he knock a tune from a Hammond organ.

I learned this evening that Jon passed away earlier today following a battle with cancer. Sad to see you go Jon but thanks for the wonderful melodies you created that have lived inside my head for so many years. Jon Lord 1941-2012 RIP

(Source: carolcrossi)

Is it just me or has there been a marked proliferation  on Tumblr recently of photographs featuring females smoking, (as opposed to smoking females). The subjects and composition of these photographs are always gorgeous. They are almost always holding the cigarette in a manner that suggests they are something sexy, sensual and desirable, which is of course how cigarettes were marketed for decades in the 20th century.

The Irish press wrote yesterday about the increased percentage of young females smoking. They also alluded that cigarette companies are specifically targeting this group with their advertising techniques. I have no real issue with anybody smoking, I’d prefer that they didn’t but it is their own business. I would however take issue with any underhand techniques being employed by unknown or  known entities with a vested interest in the increased sales of tobacco based product.

Of course when I went to look for one of said photos for this piece all I could find was an ass, but what a smoking ass it is.

That’s it…rant over……..As you were….

(Source: bedroomfairytales, via llsed31-deactivated20120724)

Greetings fellow Tumblrs, followers, lurkers plus…..

any other deviants who happen to pass this way from time to time. Yesterday saw two further milestones on my adventures in Tumblrland,the first was my 500th follower followed shortly afterwards by my 6000th post. It is so thrilling to know that there are other ladies and gents out there who enjoy what I post and get the same thrill from the erotica and lets be honest, filth that certainly drives my imagination and desire. I thank each and every one of you sincerely and though I don’t get to thank you all individually I do check you all out when your “Follow” notification pops up on my dash.

I am also thankful for the closer friendships I have developed with some of you during my relatively short sojourn here. The anonymity of Tumblr can sometimes make for a soulless experience so, the banter and discussion we share during our private conversations is what makes it all worthwhile. Some of my Tumblr friends may even be quite odd with questionable sexual practices but I still love you guys. So, thank you, all of you, you know who you are.

I am always delighted to make acquaintances with my fellow Tumblrs so if any of you are following me and feel shy or hesitant to email me or message me, don’t be, I won’t bite.

When I reached my 1000th post I thought to myself, how am I possibly going to keep finding erotica worthy of my blog, surely I must have almost blogged all the good stuff by now. Well I was wrong so with 6000 posts behind me here’s to the next 6000,including the odd worthy reblog of course.

So I’m sitting here in my office right now, daydreaming, dirty dreams; the suit I am wearing bears a striking resemblance to his, my hand, and cock, if I choose to release it from within would also look remarkably similar. All I need right now to emulate this wonderful moment is a willing lady dressed only in stockings, stilettos and gloves. Anybody know where I might find one?

(via sirenstales)

Music is my thing really, it has……….

been with me always, from the first time I heard Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire or Dolly Parton’s Jolene on my Dad’s mono record player, to the first album I ever bought, Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast in 1982, and the latest release I downloaded (legally of course), Arbouretum’s The Gathering just last week. My musical taste is quite eclectic, from the sombre, Henryk Gorecki’s Symphony Number 3 anybody, to the euphoric, Primal Scream’s Screamadelica and just about everything else in between ( Justin Bieber and his ilk excepted). OK truth be told Iron Maiden was the second album I bought, the first was Spanish Train by Chris De Burgh, yes he of Lady in Red fame. I fancy myself as a bit of a muso so I have conveniently wiped all association with Chris from my memory.

So, it was with sadness this weekend that I read of the passing, following a long battle with cancer of Adam Yauch, a founding member of The Beastie Boys, one of my favourite guilty pleasures. Known primarily for the hit” Fight for your Right to Party”, they were always more than just hip hoppers and rappers. Their albums incorporated reflective instrumental interludes, funk, jazz and let’s not forget their groundbreaking videos. So Adam, no need to fight anymore, you’ve earned your place at the party. Rest in peace.

Speaking of Guilty Pleasures, Sinead O’Connor was once interviewed by an Irish Newspaper. Towards the end of the interview she was asked to name her guilty pleasure. Previous interviewees mentioned things like watching Yogi Bear cartoons, eating Snickers bars etc. Sinead’s response, “the odd wank”. Good girl Sinead.

My guilty pleasure, Woman In Love by Barbara Streisand………………………and perhaps the odd wank or two.

Now,…… back to dirty pictures……..

I love to tease her like this, circling softly with two fingers, then running them gently up and down between her butt cheeks, and back to that spot again, circling more,occasionally brushing by the opening of her soft mound, waiting patiently for that first hint that she is ready, a wetness on my fingertip telling me I can slip my fingers deep into her luscious cunt.

(via tastepleasure)

Sexually frustrating day today. Was expecting some lovin with wife last night which didn’t happen. Domestic situation does not lend itself to extended periods of masturbatory reverie. Tumblr has heightened my frustration but Want more than a 2 minute wank in the bathroom. perhaps tonight……the downfalls of sexual incompatibility.

A Moment of Candor…………………I recently passed…..

……my 2000th post on this blog and while I have enjoyed enormously seeking out and posting beautiful, sexy, sensual, just plain dirty, esoteric and pretty eclectic (if I may say so myself) photographs, I have a confession to make. These photos may indeed be gratifying to the eye and intellect but they are not necessarily a reflection of the the images which invoke the visceral urge inside of me.

 Yes they are beautiful and pretty and sexy,…… but….. when I am sitting at my workdesk, trying to concentrate on the mundanities of industry and my lascivious brain is bombarding me with images  that require a quick trip to the restroom, I am not focusing on sensual B&W images of luscious lips wrapped longingly around the shaft of a fine cock but something much simpler and familiar to most of us. Yes what really gets me off every time is the visual sight of a lady or gent (but mostly ladies) engaged in the act of self pleasure. These are photos of people like you and I, our next door neighbour, our work colleague in their unguarded glory.It doesn’t matter if they black or white, old or young, large or thin; once the photo shows they are obviously comfortable with their own body and sexuality then they have my full attention.

The quality of the photo may not always be first class, their styling might be questionable,they may not have changed the bedcovers but there is no denying the intensity of somebody caught up in the moment. Because the tone of these photos and the criteria I use in selecting photos makes them unsuitable for this particular blog, you rarely see them here. But today, in deference to the ladies, and gents who look like you and me and who have given me many hours of salacious pleasure I am reblogging a quick succession of photos which I think perfectly exemplify my point. Enjoy…

ps. If any of you ladies or gents feel a compulsion to share your own masturbation photos or stories feel free to contact me at oursecretside2012@gmail.com. I have absoultely no intention of taking them anywhere past my inbox.

Far from virtuous: Can we take a moment to talk about PORN... →

farfromvirtuous:

I know its meant to be a secret - that women like/love/adore porn. But they do. Some, obviously I can’t speak for the entirety of the gender, but a fair proportion do. I also know some of us are embarrassed. For some inexplicable reason we believe that we will be judged poorly because we embrace…

Your porn watching routine reflects exactly how I fantasize watchine porn with my significant other, both of us absorbed in the moment, taking pleasure in ourselves before sharing the love. Regretfully my wife falls into the other category though I have a sneaking suspicion she may have enjoyed Jenna Jameson’s The Masseuse more than she is prepared to admit. That’s what I like to think anyway. 

(via farfromvirtuous-deactivated2013)

As a man who has recently experimented with taking photographs of my erect member, (it was a slow day, I couldn’t think of anything else to do) I have developed an admiration for these gentlemen who appear able to achieve and maintain wood on demand and in sometimes inappropriate situations. Good for you I say…….

(Source: comboplatter, via misslittleshy)

What is a man to do………….?

Good afternoon folks. I have something I wish to speak about briefly so please indulge me for a few moments and I won’t raise the matter again.

I feel it incumbent on me to speak up here for us menfolk and highlight a dilemma which has affected most of us at some time or other in our lives. Yes we do indeed face a dilemma and we should not be afraid to speak out about it. It usually occurs at the most inopportune times. It is seldom addressed, either in public or at home and the reason is obvious, it has the potential to cause an overbearing strain on even the strongest of relationships.

Of course you men already know what this great unspoken embarrassment is, I am of course addressing the dilemma that is………….

How to take a piss with a hardon and not destroy the bathroom in the process.

Yes I have said it, I can already hear the male readership expressing a collective sigh of relief. So what is a man to do? As already stated it occurs at the most inconvenient moments. We are in the throws of carnal ecstasy and nature calls. We excuse ourselves, head for the bathroom where therein lies our dilemma. Mr peepee is happily pointing to the stars but Mr Crapper neglected to pay sufficient attention to this detail when he invented the toilet bowl back in the day. How can we overcome this obstacle. We can  perhaps try to give Mr peepee some momentary timeout as it were by diverting our thoughts from what we just left in the bedroom and concentrating on something a little less salacious, you know the stuff…..world famine…….global recession etc. I once tried to imagine my mother having sex, it had the opposite effect which was slightly worrying.

Or, you could take advantage of the situation to pursue that long subdued fetish you have harboured for watersports and invite her to join you in the shower. One thing I know for certain, whatever your decision will be the bathroom is going to be covered in piss and no amount of tissue is going to clean it up in a hurry.

So ladies, please spare a thought for us men. I completely recogize that in the grand scheme of things we call life you have been dealt a disproportionate hand and have to contend with such burdens as childbirth, menstruation, snagged nylons, dead batteries in vibes etc but please understand that we too have our crosses to bear.

…….And just to pre-empt what I suspect will be the first possible retort…..yes ladies, you are correct, you probably will end up cleaning it up anyway.

Happy Tumblng.

Oursecretside..My first ever orgasm came…..

with the help of running water, courtesy of the showers at the local swimming pool. I was a young boy, about 12 or 13 and had no idea what was going on. (This was almost 30 years ago) I had my swimming trunks on, the water was dropping at high pressure from the showerhead. It hit my cock (which at this stage was still just a willy or penis) and felt real good. I didn’t want to stop what was going on, I got hard and concentrated to ensure the jet of water stayed directed towards my groin. After about a minute I felt a weakness in my legs, an intense feeling came over my body and this white stuff came through my trunks. What an awakening!

My weekly trip to the pool found a new purpose after that fateful day. For months after I masturbated at home by attaching a hose to the bathroom sink or the bath and let the jet of warm water do its work. I soon figured out that my hand could do the same job, which was timely as my parents couldn’t understand why there was never “ANY FUCKING HOT WATER LEFT”. A couple of years back I was staying in a hotel, the shower was a hose attached to the bath so for nostalgia’s sake I gave it a whirl. It still felt great and for any of you who have never tried it I highly recommend you give it a go. The orgasm it gives is different, it is highly intense and I go so far as to say more intense than the release through sex or masturbation………yay for municipal swimming pools, they might not always be pretty looking but they certainly opened my eyes……..

(Source: vrbw, via soakinginthetub-deactivated2012)

Oursecretside……………………..what’s in a name

A few months back I started this blog and called it Oursecretside. Oursecretgarden was my first choice but the name was taken so Oursercetside it was to be. Now the “Our” in the title obviously suggests more than just “me” so what’s it all about I hear you ask………. Ok, so I know none of you are actually asking but I’m going to tell you anyway.

Oursercetside was going to be one of my great ideas. I am happily married for a good many years to M and this was going to be for us. It all boils down to masturbation really, what doesn’t; I love masturbating, in M’s company and alone and have already spoken about it here on this blog.  M doesn’t masturbate and has never done so. Not even in a “ You can never know what they get up to when you aren’t about scenario, she could be up there in the bed all day with her fingers wedged into her pussy (how I wish)”.

We have spoken about this on occasion, usually on weekend evenings while sitting naked beside the fire sipping a glass of wine or champagne (as you do) before things move upstairs. Sometimes during these fireside moments if there is a lull in the conversations I like to take my cock in my hand and stroke it, for M and for me. I bring myself to the edge a few times and hold back again. M holds my glass for me; I wouldn’t want to spill anything on the good sofa. M likes watching me do this and I have often taken it as my queue to tell her how much it would mean to me to watch her bringing herself to orgasm. She has done it a couple of times for a minute or so but, I know she was just going through the motions for my sake……….so it doesn’t count. I don’t want her to do it simply for my gratification but also for herself; she has a much lower sex drive than I have and I’m certain if she were to discover the sexual heights that can be achieved by the wonder of self pleasure our sex life could reach a new level.

The day after one of these soirees I again told her that I wasn’t going to let up on this “getting her to masturbate” thing and that sooner or later she would succumb.   She replies “Yes I know you won’t” which I read as “Bingo, we’re in business here, what can I do to help her along”. She doesn’t care for porn (tried her with a few movies; funny, I thought she’d enjoy skat), she doesn’t do sex toys (bought several, she said they all do the same thing). This is where Oursecretside came to fruition. I decided that if I were to create a site just for her/us with a few select erotic photos she could enjoy them at her leisure without thinking she was logging onto some dodgy porn site. I still hadn’t worked out how I was going work this into a conversation but hoped there might be a natural progression to it somewhere along the way.

…………..So here I am 2 month later, the blog is going great, I am posting photos I think she could enjoy but also much that gets me horney and hard………… but sadly I never got around to telling or showing her. The timing just wasn’t right; she hasn’t mentioned the conversation or topic since and I wasn’t going to start banging on about it again so the moment was gone. I could still show it to her but the tone of the imaginary conversations between us in my head suggest it might not be a good idea:

Possible dialogue,

Me: Hey hon, take a look at this site I created for you, I hope you like it.

M: Wow thanks, lets have a look. Look at all those photos,  920 of them, that’s nearly 30 posted each day, for the last 2 months, what the fuck is wrong with you?

The blog is still called Oursecretside but instead of me and M, I am now dedicating the blog to me and you the reader, if indeed anybody is reading this………..you who perhaps like me is in a relationship that might not be  fulfulling its potential in the bedroom as much as you would wish. I know you are happy with the rest of your life but you want little bit more, we have it here, we don’t judge, we don’t feel guilty we just want to have fun. Come on in, its Our Secret Side.

I masturbate, regularly, yes I do…..and I  L.O.V.E it with Capital letters. So why..

.. do I have feelings of guilt about it? I’m Irish, yes, and I’m Catholic, almost goes with out saying, at least on paper anyway so a psychoanalyst might suggest these two details could be contributing factors. But as Freud once famously said of the Irish “This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever,” so I would probably tell him or her to kindly fuck off and give me a better reason.

I am in a happy long term marriage but sexually we are on different wavelengths. She is happy to have sex once a week (and in terms of quality over quantity that one sex session is usually f****ng great) But I have greater sexual needs which I try to satisfy here on Tumblr and with the help of my trusted hand wrapped tightly about my cock. Now I’m not what one could term as a chronic masturbator, I consider myself to be a normal, relatively good looking well adjusted chap who likes to jerk off a couple of times a week. Why can’t this be something to be celebrated and spoken about openly (though not in front of the kids obviously). Why am I afraid, considering I know that very many of us do it that ”people” might consider that I am some sort of pervert and sexual devient who needs to “get a life.” I’m sure I’m not the only person who thinks like this, wouldn’t the world be a better place if everybody could embrace masturbation for the wonderful, evocative act it is?????

By the way, that bloke in the picture above sadly isn’t me but is a very close approximation to how I look :)

(Source: cockringlover, via intenselyhot-deactivated2012031)