chelseablack

Chelsea Black is a writer. Romantically seeking her Fubo (future boyfriend) she often gets distracted by misadventures. She is currently working on her second book, first baby (sperm to be confirmed) and first real career. Chocolate and cocktails are food groups

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Once upon a time

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What better way to end than with the beginning?

Once upon a time there was a thirty something year old princess who lived in a shoebox. The recession had yet to descend like a fog over London and property prices were swirling out of control.

She hadn’t always lived in a shoebox. Oh no my precious, her previous abode had been a 3 bedroom end of terrace castle in leafier Ealing with her then prince.  A sweet man, they had decided that happily ever after wasn’t to be their ending and he had banished her from the Ealing castle to a dungeon of a shoebox. Sweet yes but charming he clearly was not.

So swearing never to love again she took all of her belongings (including a multitude of smaller shoeboxes) to live in her shoebox dungeon in Chelsea. At first she was happy to enjoy life outside of the castle. Cocktails and chocolate became her constant companions. She joined a band of merry singletinis and, although often ill-advisedly, she experimented with fancy dress and karaoke

Despite enjoying her shoebox she realised that her time in the dungeon could be better utilised if she actually tried to find a new prince. Not that every princess needs a prince but with a penchant for romantic comedies and an unfavourable economic climate it made both emotional and fiscal sense.

But where to start? In her twenties there were princes everywhere battling for her student hand but as she entered her thirties she noticed that fewer princes seemed to be around. Where had they all fled?

Then one day on a rare trip back to Ealing she stumbled across a psychic at the fair. She asked about her love life and the psychic said she couldn’t see anything in the cards. She asked again and the psychic looked confused and said that nothing was coming up. The princess was flummoxed. The psychic told her, “Go and seek it and take note of all that is around you.” Confused and disappointed the princess returned to the shoebox dungeon to reflect. And then it hit her. Maybe her prince couldn’t find her! Maybe he wasn’t very partial to the District line, something she could sympathise with entirely. Or maybe he was just running on African time?

So she decided to be brave. Why couldn’t she be the one to go out there and slay tube delays for her happily ever after? She was a romantic feminist princess after all. (DIY and vermin excluded).

And so began the princess’s adventures. She started updating about her misfortunes and was asked for more. Ah! Perhaps the psychic had meant that she take notes? She started out with a 6 month internet dating subscription confident that in that time she would find a prince with charm. That was 5 years ago.

That princess is me my precious. My name is Chelsea Black and welcome to my misadventures. And maybe, just maybe you will find tales in here that will remind you of the joy of a happily ever after.

© Chelsea Black

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The cock call

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Last night I was booty called. Yes I know my precious I’m appalled too. Not because it shouldn’t happen but because this is a guy I haven’t heard from in 3 weeks, had bad sex ages ago and now he thinks it’s ok to call me at 2.30 asking if I want company? NO!

I told him I couldn’t because I had given up sex for Lent. I doubt he believed me. Anyway, it got me to thinking about booty calls and why there is a thin line between an acceptable one and a not so acceptable one. I think the key for me is that there needs to be a build-up. A text earlier in the day perhaps or a bit of twitter banter to grease the wheels. But a booty call out of the blue is not the one.

Then I got to thinking about me and my cock calling exploits of times past.  If a woman calls you after a certain time of night know that it’s not a booty call. We don’t want the booty. WE want the cock. I know you are never sure if this is just a precursor to us wanting more and robbing you of your independence but trust me, sometimes we just want the cock. But be warned not all women do

So here you go guys a 3 step guide to that cock call that may be coming to a phone near you.

If you get a call and it sounds like this,

Him: Hello?

Her: Hey, I was just thinking about you. What you doin’?

Him: Nothing just chilling playing on some stupid games consul that I’m way too old for. You?

Her: Nothing much. Ah, so you fancy coming round?

Then know she is horny and go over. However you must check on 3 things

1)      How drunk is she?

If the call is more like this-

Him: Hello?

Her: Singing “How did you know, cos I never told, you found out I got a crush on you” OR

Her: Hey gorgeous. You’re so sexy. Why don’t you bring that hot body of yours ‘round so that I can XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  then I’ll grab that sexy arse of yours and XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.

Then chances are she is on the right side of drunk and it is safe to proceed. This is the sort of drunk when she’ll be freakishly dirty but not emotional. It’s a win win. She’ll be slightly shy in the morning but you’ll have had a good night so what do you care. Proceed to check 2

If however the call goes something like this!

Him: Hello?

Her (sobbing): XX you know I love you! Why can’t you just love me as much as I love you? [pig grunt] We would be soooooo good together and not just when you are making love and you do that thing where you get me to suck your balls whilst you watch porn but in the day time too.[pig snort sobs get more hyper]. I’ve spoken to my Mum/therapist/bitter single best friend and she says I need to tell you EXACTLY how I feel. Can you come round so we can talk about it?

Then I suggest you fake a dodgy connection, switch off your phone and go back to punching people and attacking them with balls of fire.

2)      The fuel situation

I’m not talking about your petrol although that’s not a bad one. But listen for someone who survives on snacks and thinks 3 glasses of champagne and some Haribos constitutes a full meal mine is not the place to come without bringing your own supplies. The only thing I have mastered to standards that I’m willing to share is the big English breakfast. So if the sex is amazing you may get rewarded.

You guys however require constant sustenance to keep yourself going throughout the night. At least that’s the excuse we women keep hearing for some lacklustre performances. I guess it’s because you lose a teaspoon of protein and sweat all over our sheets therefore food is a necessity. My advice? Stop off and bring a takeaway. It’s the least you can do to again avoid the emotion trap and much better than flowers or a bottle of booze. You know your performance decreases by 20% on booze.

If you are asking her to cook for you be warned that you are entering into the realms of a relationship. If you are going to restaurants before or after a cock / booty call also dangerous. Inevitably the need to discuss the sex will come up and that never ends well for the man. Trust. You say you wouldn’t mind trying anal she says she wouldn’t mind trying a relationship and it’s all over. Keep talking to a minimum. Just do that thing you do so well where you roll over and play dead whilst snoring and hogging the blanket. Nothing says just sex more than that.

3)      Condomize

Now I know I preach about this all the time but why do you leave your house to go somewhere else, pass many a tesco express and 24 hour pharmacy, manage to stop off at KFC and yet still reach a woman’s house without condoms? This is not a good look. If you come over looking like you could potentially have sex without a condom then again you are venturing into a conversation about what this all means.

If she’s clever she will have hidden her real desire for a relationship or even better may not deem your cock worthy of its own face cloth but, do you really want to take the risk here guys? Sex without a condom is tantamount to a declaration of trust and affection. Make sure we know that it’s sex and nothing but sex. So bring your own condoms and stop being so cheap. (Note Mates and Trojans are the brands of choice. Durex are not the one. Yucky spermicides)

That’s it. The 3 checks for a successful cock call. I’m going back to bed to catch up on my interrupted sleep.  Or and if she is calling you after 3am forget it. By the time you get there she’ll be fast asleep or grumpy. Trust me. So take the risk and shower afterwards not before.

Happy calling!

© Chelsea Black

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My life in porn

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The opening scene

My first memory of porn was when I was 9 or 10 playing football on a field near our house. There were some woods and something special had been found there. OMG had they found the gold at the end of the rainbow?  Was it a mysterious well of never ending Twix? No it was a half torn porn magazine which the boys poured over for ages. I wasn’t sure why this was so special until one of the boys showed me a blonde woman standing staring at the camera, topless and with this come hither look. It was in the eyes and the cute pink bikini bottoms that did it but, for a second I felt a stirring of understanding her power over these pathetic boys. Women can be powerful. But that second passed and I wanted to get back into the game. We (shirts obviously) were winning and there was no sign of a Twix to keep me occupied. I quickly realised however that porn was something that young boys immediately got.

The trickster

Then, as I grew up in the VHS era it wasn’t until university that I was exposed to it again. As you know my precious I’ve led a very sheltered life. It did exist I’m sure but young boys would never deem to share porn with a mere girl they were dating. But at Uni a French African guy invited me over to watch videos. As I went over I was hoping for the new Sandra Bullock movie but instead was greeted by bad porn. This was before obsessive hair removal and there was still some dodgy retro music tracks. In those days you were lucky to get anything that wasn’t American, Scandinavian or German. That’s a point, what’s happened to the Scandinavian porn industry? I digress.

We sat on the couch and I think I was supposed to be turned on as he edged closer, breathed heavily and pressed into my thigh but instead I was in hysterics. This was the best comedy ever! There was no way this beautiful if somewhat trailer park woman wanted to have sex with that old dude with the pale hairy skin and the fat but short knob. Where was his butt? Urgh! And yet she tried to sound convincing bless her. I was a university student and did what I did best – critical analysis. I dissected their acting, the plot which was vague and not particularly believable and the décor (something that still bugs me to this day. I can’t do Eastern European and Russian porn. The décor is so post-communist non chic it puts me off. I just want to go in there and do one of those 60 minute makeovers. And don’t even get me started on their wigs.) Eventually my host stopped with the heavy breathing and offered to take me home. I giggled and asked if there was any more popcorn. Maybe I just needed something more realistic? This was all a bit farfetched.

The wanker

I caught him sneaking off upstairs a few times and assumed it was for a cheeky cigarette or to buy me a surprise gift online but no, it was to watch porn. His preference worryingly was for younger girls. I should have seen it as a sign as his girlfriends are getting younger as he gets older. Porn files are key my precious. But no he wasn’t willing to share. Instead he enjoyed sneaking around and having a wank to women with no breasts and lanky blonde hair. Not my thing so I left him to it and instead monopolised the big screen TV to catch up on world affairs such as Spendaholics and the Biggest Loser US. Getting off on watching others comes in many forms.

 

Shake that ass, girl

One day I was staying over at an ex’s and he said I could work from his computer. I can’t remember what site I was trying to get on but I keyed in the first few letters and a whole heap of sites came up which were blackbooty / blackbabewithbutts etc. Intrigued I quickly forgot about my work deadline and instead explored his internet history. I was greeted by a sea of ….well black booties. What else would there be? Suddenly all of our sex til then made so much sense. He was living out the fantasy of his porn. I on the other hand had spent way too much time with my head in a pillow wondering what he was doing back there.  The porn talk only came later.

Eventually he agreed to show me his favourite vidoes and again I laughed as one of the scenes had a group of the director’s friends eating chicken in the background as a step dad seduced his wayward step daughter. It was a little too reality porn for my tastes. Where was the fantasy porn that made you think that everyone had mansions, clear heels and a wardrobe full of fancy dress? That’s what I wanted to see. And hadn’t these people heard of body paint or foundation? I know razor bumps, dirty heels and stretch marks are keeping it real but ….just not that much of a turn on.

The porn star

I wish he was a porn star cos that might have made it all the more convincing but no instead he chose to speak like a porn star. I wanted to tell him that he needed to shag like one too but male, ego, fragile.

The problem with men who talk like pornstars is that unlike in the movies where the women have their own lines (yes Daddy, I want you to fuck me up the ass so much! I want you to fuck me and then come on my face – voice breathless and school girl-esque) you REALLY need to inspire the average woman into getting into character. If you are an average lover then chances are this isn’t going to work. So as he fed me lines about how much I deserved his cock cos I had worked hard for it, my mind was reeling thinking…did I miss an email from him with my lines? Oh and just to keep it authentic he kept his white sports socks on. As all good porn stars do

The money shot

And so I left him and decided to go on my own porn exploration. The problem with a lot of porn is that it’s for men. Women in porn may be billed as the stars but they are just a vessel for men to live out their fantasies. I tried the made for female porn and that was horrendous. How much soft lighting and elevator music do they think women want? It was all becoming a bit too Mills and Boon for me and the tender lovemaking like an instructional education video.

And then it hit me. I’m all about the story, the seduction, the outfits, not the actual sex itself. I watch it like I do any other movie. I.e. to be entertained.  Yes I can get off on it on a voyeuristic level and sometimes we all just need to take the edge off a hard day but I am a woman. I watch porn the way I have sex: with meaning. It’s not the one when they are just fucking and I’m meant to think, yeah that could be me being fucked by that guy who doesn’t give a shit about her and is just doing her so that guys everywhere can get off. The guys aren’t generally as hot as the women are so aesthetically there is a fail there.  What’s in porn for women? Not enough I say.

And yet I persist in my search for the ultimate porn clips. Note clips cos I don’t have time for 90 minutes of mediocre to bad acting where clothes fall off in the street they have sex with aliens or they decide to make someone a vampire for no reason at all.

Porn is great for exploring what turns you and your partner on but could I see myself living a life without it? Yes because at the end of the day the real thing, whether it’s sex or loving making is always much more fun. I guess I’m not much of a voyeur then?

Happy Watching!

© Chelsea Black

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