Things I fucking Hate

I have no idea when I wrote this. Or why? Maybe in February, can’t imagine I was in great form then. Anyway, I am actually in great form now. But I’m struggling with a few pieces, and some conscience issues (probably unnecessarily) and I can’t post any of them. So for no reason, and with fuck all connection to anything sexy, except the tenuous link that it was probably sex that led me to being in that bad mood, here’s an unfathomable pile of ranting that digs right into every little thing I dislike – with little or no explanation.

This will not be popular. And that’s fine, I can’t be good every week.





It’s really hard to write sexy stuff when you’re consumed with angry-sad. It’s probably not a new kinda sad but like hangry I feel it deserves its own classification. Although I can’t seem to find the right combination; angrad? Sangry? It needs work but just so you know where we’re all at with this post.

I’m sad for all the plans that are now laid to waste and I’m angry because I feel conned. Neither of which makes for a very hot mood. (Either by themselves I could work with but not the killer combo)

So let’s focus on the angry and here’s a list of things I just fucking hate.


Hen nights – don’t ask me, I don’t want to go. A pile of girls acting like tools? No thanks. Just a pile of girls full stop. Really, everyone who knows me…WHY!! Just stop asking me to these things, I CAN NOT keep the look of disgust off my face.

Weddings – all the same, forced, formulaic and fecking expensive

The Dart


Any spread that isn’t butter

Guys who won’t wear condoms


People who complain about the church yet christen their kids

Cinnamon and nutmeg


Swiss cheese

McDonalds – every time I hear of their falling profits I rub my hands with glee

Instant coffee

Lyons Tea (I’m Barry’s all the way)

The X Factor

Cheap fabric detergent or fabric softener

Bed linen that isn’t 100% cotton

Scented candles

Madness (The band)

Dan Brown

People who don’t turn the keypad tones off on their phone

People who don’t vote

Having to kiss a smoker (we can always, always tell)

Fussy eaters, un adventurous eaters

Your average dress from Coast

Boot cut jeans on boys (or girls, but I’m usually not trying to sleep with them)

The following words: Bants, totes, “cheeky”, soz…. If you need to say sorry to me you had better use the actual word. I have cut people out of my life for less, I truly have

The summation “And all that good stuff” – even if used sarcastically

Patchouli oil

Tie dye

Anything that can be described as hippy

Rom coms

Chick lit

Jack & Jones ubiquitous clothing on Irish men

Nearly all tracksuit bottoms on men


Apple products in general – even though I own an iPhone


The fact that Hersheys is allowed call itself chocolate, when it’s an abomination to the word

Hollister and Abbercrombie & Fitch


The word nana – dunno, just always hated it

Peaches – they’re like eating fuzz, and not in a good way

Waiting staff who take away some of the plates before the rest of the table are finished. Or when they whip the plate out from under my hands as I have the last morsel just popped in my mouth. NO. Tip. For. You.


Naming kids after yourself

People who don’t get names right, habitually – this is my mother

Dublin people and the way they can’t say Kieran and don’t know what the rest of us are talking about when we point it out to them.

The way that all headphones everywhere are the same input and output but we can’t have one universal phone charger?

Toasted cheese sandwiches where the cheese isn’t even melted

Galway – not the people, just the place and its faux, twee bullshit. And its persona that’s so ‘Ooh we’re all way better than the rest of you, cos we’re real Irish’. I just cannot understand the appeal of the place.

Sydney – what an overrated city. But mostly I hate Irish people’s fascination with it and insistence that it’s the best place on the planet.








So there you go. A pile of stuff that gives you an idea why I’m such a crankypants.

You’d imagine I didn’t have a friend in the world. And I’m amazed I have so many myself some days.

Ok, off to make some moral decisions about the sex I’m currently having.

The Old School New Fantasy

Fantasies are weird aren’t they? I don’t mean yours are weird or mine or anyone’s I mean by their nature they can be weird? In how what seems fantastical to one person can be the utter mundane to another. And how sometimes just the existence of fantasy itself is enough and you don’t ever want it to be a reality. Or like how some never can.


I really hate when a partner asks me what my fantasy is (let’s just presume he means sexually). I hate it because I feel like someone is going to get disappointed one way or the other and it’s usually me. At his response.

I think I might shock you if I revealed some of mine. Shock you in just how boring they actually are. But because they manage to allude me they are a real fantasy for me. Simple ones like wanting  a partner who calls my boss and books me a day off, then doesn’t tell me until I go to get up – then pulls me back into bed and announces that we’re staying in bed, then going away for the weekend. I fantasise about having a waterfall shower in my bathroom, of having bouncier, shinier hair; shit like that. But you want to hear about my sexual fantasies? Well they’re just as mundane I’m afraid.

I don’t have any driving desire to have any more crazy sex. Or at least I don’t fantasise about it. I don’t need it at work, or on a roof top or at a music festival. I don’t need it backstage or on an airplane or on a beach. I don’t need toys or clothes or another girl. I just don’t have any deep seated need to do anything extravagant. There’s nothing hiding at the back of my psyche that I wish I’d gotten around to. There’s no one thing that I feel I would be disappointed if I didn’t get to do.

That doesn’t mean I’m done with sex. Or new things or closed off to new experiences. “Need” was the key word in that last paragraph, I don’t need any of those things – but I sure as hell like them! There’s still a few things that I’d like to happen, but I won’t be on my death bed crying that they didn’t (or standing at an altar thinking I’m giinv something up) There’s nothing I feel I’ve missed out on, even though I know there’s loads of things I haven’t done.

But fantasies are a strange thing and sometimes having them fulfilled is not at all fulfilling. A lot of them I don’t feel any need to do again. In fact a lot of them were a massive let down. An anti-climax if you will.

But the catch 22 is you have to do them to know they weren’t worth it, so in that sense I’m glad I got to do them.


I feel when anyone asks about my fantasies they’re waiting for something crazy to come out of my mouth. And if I say I don’t have any, they think it’s something so dark I can’t share it. And inevitably partners who ask me feel like there’s nothing left that’s new to me. And I feel judged. Or like they’re disappointed.

And that’s not how it is. I have a rubbish imagination! If you want to come up with something hot, I’ll probably be into it. (Probably)

But my real fantasy, with regards to sex? Is to have the person I’m having sex with to maybe sleep in my bed more than once a month. For him to live in the same city as me. And for there to be consistent, good sex at least 3 times a week. THAT is what I currently fantasise about. Loads of high quality sex. And coming home to someone who just wants to fuck the shit out of me. Maybe not even in a nice way, just pound me until his bad day is gone and so is mine. I do fantasise about that; lifting my skirt, bending over and just being ready as he comes in the door, no words, they’re not necessary. The words have been said already, either he’s had a bad day, he’s texted to tell me and this is what he needs of me, but more likely, I’ve had a bad day and this is what I need of him; brute desire and wantonness. For him to just take me over – to try and physically rub it out of me.  When I’ve had a rough day, it’s what I fantasise about most…. Shocking in its lack of shockingness, right? But that’s what I want, that’s what I’d love. That’s the fantasy that I don’t have fulfilled. The satisfying knowledge that I could have this ….. at the end of a text.

But like all good fantasies – it wouldn’t be the same in reality, would it? Married people don’t do this, cohabiting people don’t do this? Things get in the way, don’t they? Life gets in the way. But in my fantasy, that is how it goes.


Now. There are things I’ve had that I wish I could keep having and there are some fantasies that I think I don’t want to live out. One of them is too dodgy to share, I think a professional might take a 1000 hours in consultations to pry out of me and explain.

But the other one? Well that’s the one I’m here to talk about today.


It’s not really a fantasy. Well I suppose it is, but I have done it before. It was nice. Pretty good but ultimately a little awkward. The thought of it was way hotter, the idea of it was way hotter. And yet still, I think I would entertain it again.

Me with two guys.


I’ve only done this once and both the guys were hot. They were both my type and miraculously they both looked alike. But ….. there was something off. I didn’t know either of their reasons for doing it. And there had been no discussions beforehand, it had just happened. You can read about it here.

I think it would have been better if we had chatted first. And also if I’d gotten any hint that the guys might have been into each other a bit, or up for touching each other. (They weren’t)

Sex is awkward enough, trying to get mentally comfortable with one person is a feat in itself but when there’s 2 to worry about? My head is not only worrying about me, it’s worrying about them; do they fancy me, does one fancy me more. Are either of them gay and is the sight of my tits ruining this for them? Is one jealous if I pay more attention to the other? Are either of them being made feel insecure by the other? Are they having a good time, is one having a good time but not the other?




So why am I considering this again? Why is this still a hot can-sometimes-get-me-off thought? Well because the thought of two guys who genuinely enjoyed fucking me, actually fucking me at the same time? That will always be delicious. I nearly always crave a cock in me when I’m giving head. Especially if I’m really enjoying it and eliciting the right noises from him. Then I want to be fucked, played with, taken.

I just ache at the thought of it. For someone to come up behind me, pull down my knickers, lick their fingers and slip them into me. When they find that I’m wet they calmly tell me how pleased they are that I’m wet, that since I’m doing such a good job sucking boy one that if I behave myself he’ll take his fingers out and push his cock right in. This inevitably makes me moan with anticipation and he says ‘Good girl’ as his cock is shoved into me, nice and slowly. Hands grabbing my hips and kneading my ass as my cunt clenches onto him and I keep sucking the cock in my mouth.

And that’s just the start.

But that’s how it always starts, me getting it in the mouth and in the pussy. Everything I want.


But it’s not. I want more.

I want to make boy one come in my mouth, while boy two is still fucking me. Then I want boy one to climb under me (for I am of course on my knees) and I want him to try to lick my clit as I am still being slowly fucked from behind.

If boy two could somehow manage to pull out and finish in my mouth and then boy one could finish me with his tongue.


Or something like that.


Then we move on to two of us sucking one cock.

One of the boys fucking me while the other gets fucked in the ass.

One of them kisses me while the other one eats me, and they swap over so I can taste myself off each of them.

I so desperately want to see either of them take the other’s cock. I want to see them kiss – something about boys in a rough, passionate kiss really turns me on. I day dream of what both of them could do to me…. of what I could get them to do to each other.

I want to see how both of them give head – see if they do it better than me! See if it’s as easy as they think!

And who knows, maybe they have some ideas too (how generous of me)


I think what makes this so hot is that I have two people in mind. Two people where all the questions are answered and nothing has come up wanting.

I know they both like me, find me sexually attractive – no insecurities there.

I know they both want to do this – no feeling like someone feels obliged.

I know they’re both straight and this is just something they think would be hot and fun. And this has been one of the key concerns in the past; how do I find two guys who are into this and aren’t just using me as a buffer because they’re in the closet.

Both are (justifiably) confident in their skills and their selves.

I know both of these reprobates are the perfect mix of caring and filthy to maybe get this right. And ALL of that makes this something that I want to do. Something that strangely feels like a safe move?



And in this scenario we have the added bonuses of me fancying both of them and knowing full well that I enjoyed my time with both of them immensely.

All prior concerns and issues have been addressed. Although I do harbour mild concerns that we might not all get on. That the dynamic might be irrevocably changed to something that’s just not hot. What if they don’t get on with each other?

Well then we just all get drunk.


Will it happen? Who knows.

But if it doesn’t, I won’t feel incomplete. I will have the fantasy and who knows if that’s better?

The Big Thing I Hate About Dicks

I’m probably not supposed to say this. It’s probably not at all helpful or encouraging. But I can’t be nice all the time. In fact I’m not nice most of the time so I might as well say it. And not saying it doesn’t do anyone any good. (actually saying doesn’t either but here we are)

The only thing I ever want a cock to be – is hard.

Sure some are prettier than others, some are smoother, straighter more parallel. They’re bigger, fatter or anything else you prefer. But none of these is anything I’m crossing my fingers for.

I’m just hoping for it to be so fucking hard. Not kind of hard, but iron bar hard.

That is all I need.

Why Abbi, that’s not so bad, in fact that sounds surprisingly like some patronisingly good news? We feel duped.

Well, no. If we look at it a bit closer it’s actually quite harsh.


See there are a lot of times when I’m supposed to be patient (and by golly I am. I’m very sexually mannerly) and I hate it. I am forcing it. I am of course not going to make anything worse by drawing attention to it, but it’s not a turn on. In fact it’s a turn off. I can only imagine how hard it is for gay guys; a softening dick must be a domino effect?


I’m probably not being clear so let me give you some examples of things I don’t enjoy. I don’t mind a soft dick in my hand, that I can get nice and hard from scratch, lovely. And I love getting a soft dick in my mouth and making it grow, fantastic. But what I don’t want, is a nice hard dick, that I’ve grown, that then gets a condom on and goes all soft. How disappointing. I especially hate it when that soft dick is then squished into me; like play doh.

(you’re hating me right now aren’t you?)

I get that condoms are a mood killer and a sensitivity killer and are horrible compared to my lovely warm mouth. And that you aren’t at all happy about it going soft either and that you can’t really do anything about it. I do fully get that. But I still don’t enjoy a squishy cock being shoved into me to make it hard. While the rational part of me knows it’s not anything that I’ve done, I’m afraid my ego won’t accept that and thinks that I’ve somehow turned you off or did something to make your dick no longer want to play nice with my cunt. Like warring kids being forced together, that eventually get along.

But I’ll get over it, and I will never mention it and I will just keep hoping that it will get better if we get to condom ditching point.



The other one I hate is pretty similar in situation but I hate it for a different reason.

I love being fucked straight after someone has made me come with their mouth. While I’m writhing away, if you can hold me down and penetrate me I will still be clenching and the insertion of your cock can start a further orgasm for me. Plus my cunt just aches to be filled and stretched after oral. Now I’ve told a few guys this. And why wouldn’t I, communication is important and having this info would benefit both of us, surely? I’d certainly like someone to give me anything near as helpful as that.

But on a number of occasions this hasn’t worked out so well.  Sometimes it has been the stopping for condoms that has done it. But other times….. well, it’s just not been hard at all.

Now boys, if you are not hard after bringing me to screaming orgasm that is really fine. It is. Sometimes it takes a while so maybe you lost your own arousal concentrating on the task. I know, that happens to me too sometimes when I’m giving head. But for the love of god, please don’t then force a limp dick into me just because you think I need it.


I mean sure, it’s nice. And I do enjoy being fucked straight after but let’s not lose sight of what just happened; you just made me come! And that is enough. In fact that’s all you have to do.

While I think (and hope) it’s meant well, I really don’t want you to fuck me because I’m a greedy bitch and you feel that I won’t be satisfied if you don’t. Just give me a few minutes to compose myself and I will be back paying you and your bits as much attention as you need.

But whatever you do, please don’t ruin the tail end of my orgasm by making me think you didn’t enjoy eating me, or that I don’t make you hard, or that you feel obliged to fuck me – because that is what will go through my head.


Of course I’d like to think that making me come would turn you on and get you hard, if not for the whole of the task but for the finish at least. But it’s not a prerequisite or a deal breaker.



Now sometimes a soft dick being roughly shoved into me as it is rapidly hardening is great. Like when I’m drunk but still awake and horny as fuck and you’re maybe half asleep. That’s fine, I’ve just woken you and you had no idea this was coming. Or I wake up before you in the morning and want it straight away. These occasions are fine. But habitually it being soft going in? That’s robbing me of one of my favourite sensations; a rock solid, iron bar hard cock slowly sliding into me. That controlled feeling of solidness, pushing into me. Firm from the very tip, parting my lips and stretching me until the base is swallowed. This I crave.


I know this can’t be helped. I want to reiterate that. I know no one is going soft on purpose just to ruin things for me. I’m not insinuating that at all. I’m highlighting that the best thing about a cock, the thing that makes me fall in love with it, worship it – is its ability to get and stay hard around me. That’s the attribute that I most seek in a cock to love.

Yep, fat, long and smooth would be nice too but really? All I want is a hard dick.

I don’t need a big dick, I just need a hard one.

Guest Piece – Sexy Pregnant…? Damn Right

I got sent this a while back, I’ve been waiting for a time to post it. Now is probably the time. My sister is due her baby tomorrow. This is my favourite sister. We are inordinately close. And thankfully it’s mutual. If you’ve ever seen Broad City and how Ilana is obsessed with Abbi (ha ha) then that’s how we are with each other. except I’m the bigger perv, but only marginally. And it’s hard not to be, around her, her boobs are amazing.

Anyway, since she got pregnant she is an even more radiant angel. If that was even possible. She was pretty fit beforehand so it was no surprise that her body took to pregnancy well. Her silhouette stayed the same, her face, legs arms… all normal. But her already phenomenal boobs got bigger and higher and her belly swelled, while still keeping the outline of her hips. Fuck she looked great, and she was happily able to embrace it. Every time she met she’d ask if I wanted to see the boobs. Damn right I did. And the rest. She looked glorious. She looks glorious.

So I fully appreciated and absolutely loved when I got sent this piece from a husband who adored the changes too. Even though pregnancy is not something I have any real desire to experience, I can still appreciate it’s glory. And glory is what it is.


Ok so bear with me here. This may get a bit uncomfortable for some of you. I have to say, after many years of keeping it to myself and with the very real possibility of being stoned in the street: pregnant women are deeply sexy. Deeply, profoundly, unendingly sexy. Amazingly, desperately, passionately sexy.

I’m not talking posed, pale, depressing readers wives fiction on some grotty “specialist” website. I’m talking about yummy mothers and mothers to be. Perhaps my reaction is primal. I will always give up my seat on the bus and get quite angry when others don’t do the same. I’ve offered to carry shopping, opened doors, run back and opened doors. Reparked my car and run back and opened doors. It’s the right thing to do and has nothing to do with sex. We are not talking about lust here.
Something most people know is that pregnant women experience huge emotional and hormonal shifts. This can result in some of the more unpleasant physical things some women endure in pregnancy. But it can also make them horny. More horny than they have ever experienced. It can produce a longing and desire for a man that’s so strong it can drive them to distraction. Long list full emails appear in your inbox at all times of the day. Requests for you to come home early. Requests for seconds. Demands for seconds. Approaches that in other contexts would constitute serious sexual assault. For those of us who have been on the receiving end it’s a stunning experience.
Perhaps it’s the knowledge that pregnant women may have been participating in lots of sex. Some women get pregnant easily. Some take years. Imagine all those hours of sweaty, desperate, frantic sex. The glimpse of a tight belly peeking out from under a tight t-shirt can be as sexy as the flash of stocking tops. And there are the boobs. Those soft engorged breasts cannot be ignored. You cannot deny cleavage is sexy.
Pregnant women glow. They just seem to emit this beautiful swelling glow. Have you never suddenly noticed a girl in the office only when she became pregnant? Seen how beautiful she really is? Many people find strong women sexy. There can be nothing stronger than a woman carrying her unborn child. The fortitude and effort it takes. The body changes and the pain she ensures. They even smell better. Sometimes the sexyness is lost, amongst the domestic rubble of coping, worrying, sleepless nights. But mums and mums to be you are sexy. More than you will ever realise.
What’s not to love, eh?
So there will soon be another MacCranky in the world. Actually there will soon be two as another of my sisters is also pregnant. Hopefully all goes well.

Guest piece Cut Vs Uncut

I think this had been promised to me for a long time. I feel it might have been worth the wait. This is a friend of mine who can give a proper perspective on what it feels like to be cut and uncut.

While I know this guy well, I don’t know his penis so I won’t be making any contributions from a personal level. I will say that I disagree with some of his comments, I hold a different opinion but I won’t be making them public





Over various discussions with both my male and female friends over the years, the subject of penis’s has come up (pun intended) more than once. Oh we’ve discussed size, shape, taste, comfort, skill levels and even piercings. But until I had to get a circumcision at the fully grown age of 34, (for medical reasons in case anyone thinks I did it for aesthetic reasons) this was never really a topic of conversation.

So I am now over two years with a brand new penis. Although I know some men who are also circumcised, they had the operation as a child. Therefore I am now in the unique position of knowing what it is like to have sex both cut and uncut. Since my operation, the topic of sex before and after the procedure is now something of a common occurrence among my friends and I and my sexual partners. I could say I was surprised to discover there was this much interest in my experiences both before and after, but I would be lying. When my date for the operation was set it was not the potential pain after the op or the chance of something going wrong under the knife that had me thinking, rather, it was how sex was going to be with no foreskin.

So this here and now is just that. My pros and cons of both. Something for the cut and uncut man to discover about the positives and negatives of whatever type of penis you have and something for the woman to take heed of who may have yet to get their hands on a cut dick – they’re not exactly rare, but the majority of Irish man are uncut.

A quick note on the operation itself. It hurt like a fucker. Not the operation, I was asleep. But the recovery period. With a lifetime of having my penis’s head covered when not aroused, to have his lovely head bringing pain to my nervous system every time I moved was quite distressing. But not quite so distressing at the stitches around my cock – big, black and bloody. (sorry but that’s how it was.) But not quite as distressing as waking up in the middle of a night with a piss-horn and being in agony as the stitches pulled. But not quite as distressing as the stitches catching on your underwear. But not quite as distressing at discovering that your erection was a full one and a half inches shorter than it used to be.

YES! I kid you not. From a six inch cock to four and a half inches was perhaps the most distressing thing to ever happen to me in my life (ok a bit overstated). However, this was down to the stitches which were holding back my penis from extending to its full length. A scary time, but once the stitches came out it gradually returned to its rather glorious (if I do say so myself) six inches. All in all, it was almost a year after the op before I felt finally comfortable with my new penis, but enough of my trials and tribulations. Let’s answer some common questions I’ve heard.

How is sex different? Does it affect how you fuck? Is it better or worse than before? Can you last longer? Does it look funny?

Ok. So. They are hard questions to answer because as with anyone’s sex life, not everything is as simple and straightforward as a yes or no answer. Things aren’t always black and white. Well, maybe in some scenarios, but like my new penis, sex is varying shades of grey (not literally).

The cons of being cut are as follows. First con. I don’t think my dick is as pretty while erect as it used to be. No, let me change that. I KNOW, it’s not as pretty while erect as it used to be. There are some small scars (thin and white) where the stitches were. It’s only noticeable during an erection and to be fair, it’s really only me that notices it. It’s more of a me issue rather than being a big deal. My cock is still pretty (straight, hard and throbbing) but I will always know that it was once scar free and gorgeous. But honestly, it’s not a hang up, just a little bit of my own head weeping over nothing really.

Second con, is hand-jobs. Not just from a partner, but during masturbation. I no longer have a foreskin which glides easily back and forth over the head of my cock with a skilled hand. Obviously with masturbation I know what I like to feel so it’s easier to get around – and I can experiment lots too in my own time – but unless a woman knows in advance that I’m cut and can lube up her hand in advance (spit is fine) it’s not going to feel too nice. Whereas when I was uncut hand-jobs were easy to access because of the natural lubrication beneath the foreskin and tugging on a dick didn’t take much skill because it all really looked after itself. Things are different now. When I was uncut, a woman’s hand could grab any part of the shaft and move her hand and the foreskin could find its way back and forth over the head. Now, there is none or very little movement of the skin on my shaft so the hand needs to concentrate on the head. The hand must become my foreskin whereas before it only needed to guide the foreskin to move. However a woman who has had her hands on a cut dick before will know what to do without being told to, so it’s not all bad. But honestly, I miss my foreskin when it comes to hand-jobs.

Third con is my frenulum. For those who don’t know, the frenulum is that thin piece of string-like skin on the underside of the cock that attaches the foreskin to the the penis. During oral sex it is highly sensitive to a tongue. It’s basically the male clit. Most of my frenulum is now gone. I am still sensitive in that area but it’s nowhere as pleasurable as it once was. I miss that.

Fourth con is one that might sound horrible but let me preface it by saying that as time has gone on, this con has become less and less and I am sure that over the years it will return to its pre-op levels. The pleasure I feel during the initial part of intercourse is not quite the same. This was the very first thing I noticed when I first had sex after the op. Now I’m not saying it was devoid of pleasure; far from it. Just that it wasn’t the same intensity level. But over the past year I have noticed this is no longer the case. I am sure now that it was just my penis getting used to its new life. Ha! I don’t know the science of it, I just know what I feel.

Now for the pros.

First pro. Orgasms! Yes, orgasms are more powerful. If I might have lost a few percentage points of pleasure during sex, I have gained them at the climax. This is one thing I will never be able to explain properly. Guys who are uncut, take your most powerful climax. Now, imagine it felt better. Guys who are cut, take the feeling of your dick inside your partner’s tight, wet, cunt. Feel good? Feels better when you’re uncut. You see most men know only one experience. Although it might sound it, I’m not saying that one is better than the other, I’m just saying I’m one of the few who has experienced both sides.

Second pro. I can have sex a lot more times and get hard a lot quicker after I cum. I wasn’t expecting this one but was happy to find it out. Again, this is all very subjective and it can depend on a whole plethora of reasons but on the whole, I can definitely get harder a lot quicker after sex. When I had a foreskin my head would be very sensitive to touch after sex. Whereas now I have no foreskin, my head is used to rubbing against my leg or my underwear or the towel when I dry myself. It has lost sensitivity to the point where I could smack it off a wall and not feel a thing (slight exaggeration). So because it’s now less sensitive, it’s quicker to stand to attention a second, third, or Holy Mary Mother of God, a fourth time!

Third pro is the second pro.

Fourth pro. Hygiene. Now pardon the mental image I am going to place in your mind, but gone are the days of washing under your foreskin. No more cheesy dick (not that I ever did have, mind you). Quite literally, maintenance of a cut dick is as easy as anything. Also, in the same breath, gone are the moments of pain when a woman forgets that your foreskin is attached to the head of your dick and almost rips your frenulum. It’s happened, to more than one buddy of mine. Your penis is now just one seamless piece of meat that looks after itself. Foreskin related pain or hygiene is now a thing of the past.

Fifth con. If I think my penis is not as pretty while erect, I know it’s much better looking while flacid. Where once he hung with his little turtleneck pulled up over his head and retreated far into his shell during the cold, now he hangs there proud and majestic and looking like a rock star, his head there for all to see. No more hiding for that guy. Sure, it might not be a major pro, but I’m damn fond of it.

With regards the questions: Sex is neither better nor worse; it’s just different. The same way some sexual partners you’ve been with are neither better or worse. Just different.

No, it hasn’t affected how I fuck. I was worried at first that I might be. My first sexual experience after the op was one of trepidation and forethoughts of slow and gentle intercourse in case I hurt myself. After two thrusts I knew I was fine. Slow and gentle went out the window. I pounded the life out of her more to see what my cock could do rather than for her pleasure (the only time in my life I haven’t put my partner’s pleasure first). The penis is indeed a hardy boyo.

Is it better or worse than before? Again, it’s just different. This is my penis now and as you’ve read, there are pros and cons to the new cock.

Does it look funny? Answered above.

And finally. Can you last longer? There is a genuine stereotype or myth or whatever, that suggests that cut men can last longer. From women I’ve heard hand on heart stuff that they found this to be true. For me? It depends. Before the op, mostly I could last quite a while. Not always, mind you. I have had my moments of being embarrassingly quick but luckily they were rare. That being said, on two occasions since the op, that has happened again. So being cut is not necessarily a sure fire way to enhance your longevity. But, and again this is purely subjective, on the whole, I have found that I last longer now that I’m cut. This is especially true after the first orgasm. Granted, this is usually true for uncut guys as well. But let’s say (for example) I last two minutes longer on the first go than when I was cut, it doesn’t sound like a lot but probably on the whole cut vs uncut, cut will take it by a nose. However, on the second and third times, the longevity will tend to shoot up dramatically when compared to when I was uncut. But look, this is not pure scientific research or anything. It’s just personal experience and it’s entirely subjective.

To put it in perspective. I have slept with one woman since the operation that I had slept with before the operation. Sex with her was much the same as it was before and after the op. Both in pleasure and longevity (good pleasure and relatively long, in case you were wondering). So it is safe to assume that my sexual experiences post-op are not just totally down to my new penis. There is a partner involved and cut or not cut, he/she is going to have a lot to do with your experience too.

That being said, I’m not unhappy I had the operation (although I had no choice) and if was given the option of magically going back and not getting cut? I’d take it, so long as I got to keep the pros of being cut as well.



There you have it….

Eroticon 2015

Homer: How much is this free resort weekend?

Movementarians: It’s free

Homer: And when IS this weekend

Movementarians: It’s this weekend

Homer: And how much does it cost?

Movementarians: Um it’s free

See clip here

I’m only joking! This isn’t a cult and it sure as hell isn’t free.

But I hope to have a good time. Learn how to internet sex blogging better and meet some people who are WAY, way better at it than me. Cos I’m fairly rubbish. But I am the only Irish person so I have that going for me. (Man, I’ll be so gutted if I catch some other Irish one getting up to this? No I won’t! I’d be thrilled to find someone in Ireland doing this too)

Here are the questions I’ve been asked… (I’m probably not going to do the links properly. Cos I can barely internet at all. Please don’t kick me out of the conference)

NAME (and Twitter name if you have one)

Abbi Rode (@OCDCrankypants)

Is this your first time at Eroticon? If No, what is your favourite memory from a previous Eroticon and if Yes, what are you most looking forward to at Eroticon 2015?

This is indeed my first time. I’ve no real idea what to expect. To be entertained I suppose…that’s all I can hope for.

Which 3 sessions have you already earmarked as definitely going to?

Breaking from my highly organised tradition, I haven’t actually looked at anything so I’ve no idea who’s doing what or what’s on offer. I have no homework done for this thing. Which once again is very out of character. I must be scared. Or intimidated or something…  (definitely something..?)

What drink will you be ordering at the bar on the Saturday night?

White wine, Prosecco or a bottle of Corona or Sol – which I will absolutely turn my nose up at if there is no lime for it. I’ll probably bring my own, thinking about it? hotel bars are usually a let down.

If you wrote an autobiography what would it be called?

I may have to come back to this one? But maybe: 50 shades of Harry Potter Teenage Vampires That Will Make Everyone Who Buys This Rich – yup, think I’ll go with that snappy little title.

Where are you writing this post and what 5 things can you see around you (not including the device you are writing on)?

I’m on the couch (of a thousand rides) in my sitting room. I can see the painting my sister gave me, the bag with my new gym clothes in them, my gym bag, a pile of wood and the TV

And the last one… If you could go out to dinner with any 5 sex bloggers or erotic writers, regardless of whether they are coming to Eroticon or not who would they be?

I don’t think I know anyone from the community well enough to be able to answer that fully and with any conviction. And man am I VERY fussy about who I’ll eat with. (I would literally rather have sex with someone than eat with them). And I realise that it seems to be de rigueur to name people that won’t be there/that people haven’t met, but the person I think I’d like to have dinner with is Maria Sibylla  – she’s in the states and I don’t think she’s coming but … for some reason I think we grew up in the same house? Unfortunately her blog has been suspended so I can’t link to it.

And the other person would be GotN as it was a little over a year ago that my friend sent me a link to her site and that kicked off my interest in doing it myself.


Mollly has very handily put together who’s going to be there Here’s the link to the details and who else is attending. For anyone who might be interested in some sauciness and how to get into doing your own line of sauciness…


Dude? Do You Even Lift?

I think this might be the 3rd post that I’ve written inspired by a question from the same person. Cheers Dude – your inspiration is always great.

The question was: Do I like big, muscly guy, is it more attractive. And the further and elusive question of: What do women find attractive in men.


Well, I can’t tell you. Because I don’t know women. I just know myself, sort of. So anything that I answer in relation to those two queries will categorically be what I think and not what women as a whole think. But what I will say that’s across the board is that women and men are the same, we’re human and everybody wants something different.

Of course we all want the same fundamentals; food, shelter, to be engaged in fulfilling tasks and to have meaningful companionship. But the nuances of these are what makes us individuals.



So question one – do women prefer big muscly guys? I think everyone appreciates a body that has been looked after, it would be futile to dispute that. But where is anyone’s cut off point or benchmark description of ‘looked after’? My own personal tastes are in the moderate category for a number of reasons.

What do I mean by moderate? Well, unless you’re living under a rock on Pluto with your eyes closed and fingers in your ears then you’ll be aware of the Magic Mike film franchise. And even if you haven’t seen the movies, you’ll have seen the posters. Everywhere. Well that’s not moderate, anything in any of those posters is unequivocally not to my taste. It’s all a bit much for me. Your average rugby player, that scene of Daniel Craig coming out of the sea, Khal Drogo – all too much for me. It’s overdone, it’s past sublime and into the ridiculous. But only in my opinion. Take it down a notch or 7. I’d say GAA player build or soccer player build, that’s what does it for me. Fit, possibly with amazing thighs and some nice arms and not an over pronounced 6 pack. That’s what I like. That’s what makes me go a bit pervy and want to ogle. And let’s never forget a nice, high, firm arse.

Anyone who is too fit though is intimidating. I hope you guys know that?

If I’m with someone who’s got zero body fat then I’m less likely to get naked in front of them. It’s scary and I feel like I’m going to be judged. I feel like I’m being assessed and that I will undoubtedly come up short.

I’m a confident and fit enough person, fitter at some points than others. But even at my fittest I’ve always had cellulite and a wide, flat arse that has never, ever been pert (Jesus, why am I revealing this?) but crucially I’ve never been really fully happy with my body. And I feel acutely aware of these flaws when I am with someone fitter. I just want to feel that someone has possibly got their own tiny flaws and that they aren’t looking for mine, that they’re not thinking in their head; this girl isn’t in my physical league. Or worse, this girl could be hot, if she toned up a little.

And before you start shouting that none of you are thinking this, I already know. But it’s an internal dialogue that I have with my confident self all the time. But it remains a fact; I wish I was happier with my body than I am. Can you imagine walking around all day being happy with your body, can you just imagine the peace of that?

Well I can’t.


This doesn’t affect me all day every day. But at least once a day. Sometimes more. And as I’ve said, I’m a confident enough person, I can squish those thoughts and get on with things. And when I’m about to have sex with someone I like? I can slay those thoughts very successfully and get on with enjoying myself.


But when it comes to me fantasising about someone their body actually rarely comes into it. Once again, sorry guys.

When I think of someone that makes my cunt ache and slicken then it’s what they’ve said to me, what they’ve done to me and what they’ve looked like as they’ve said and done these things to me. The hottest person I’ve ever been with is not the hottest person I’ve ever been with –if you follow. He wasn’t the fittest or the tallest or the best looking (he wasn’t unattractive by the way, not in the slightest) but thoughts of this man sent me crazy. Even his voice makes my nipples hard. It’s just him. How he is, what he can make my body do and how I felt when I was near him. The thought of him kissing me, fucking me, the memory of his cock pounding into me these were the things that I played with in my head. That I still play with in my head to get myself off.

But I didn’t desire him because of a six pack or arms larger than my thighs. I just desired him – the rest was inconsequential. I wanted to lick and suck and bite and take every piece of his flesh.

I wanted all of him all day long.


But I’ve been with super fit guys, guys that were ogled by other women, guys who looked great on the beach let’s say. And sure I did love looking at them and touching them – but not any more or less than anyone with a body not as toned. Your physique might catch my attention on the street or in a bar but it’s not what will hold my attention. Sometimes not even long enough to get me into bed.


And right on cue we have a recent example from my dating life. My friend, we’re going to call her Lucy, brought me to a singles night – there was some free booze and some free food – words that will always count me in. It was good fun but by the time I met the boy in question it was late in the night. Even still we hung out and it was immediately apparent that something was going to happen and it did. He was funny and a bit bold and I loved how he was dressed and how he carried it. Taller than me, even though I was wearing heels. Clearly fit as he was wearing a fitted shirt. And the holy grail; he was not wearing boot cut jeans with trainers. Nope, he had on brogues and straight leg navy chinos. Showing just enough of how fit (the way I like) his body was. And damn right I was into it. Topped off by him being a pretty good kisser.


But as mentioned by the time we met him it was quite late. So after a few more drinks I felt it was time to drag myself home. When I said this, he wasn’t happy to let me go. Nice. So he insisted I took his number. Again, nice. I took it, he made me ring it, so that he had mine and then he tried to get me to take him with me. I was too tired for any performances to be good so it was never going to happen.

I’m not sure how, but as I’m leaving he spots a euro coin on the ground, he picks it up, hands it to me and says “Here you go, make sure you call me tomorrow, no excuses”. It’s so fucking ridiculous he just about pulls it off. I lap up that cheesy stuff sometimes.

I go home happy and fairly entertained.


The next day I get texts from him, all of them ending or leading back to, why haven’t I called him yet. So I do, we chat, have a laugh and agree to meet up again.


A week after we met we meet up again. And drunk Abbi was not deceiving sober Abbi. He is hot. And he is fit and he is once again very well dressed in a way that showcases a type of body that I like but not in an overt way. I’m still into it.

My god am I still into it.


I’m going to diverge here for a tiny bit and have a wee rant. Well, I’m not having a go at anyone per se. More likely I’m showing some personal character flaws but here goes.

I got to thinking after that guy arrived – and to be fair it’s probably something I have actually thought and said before – but my guess is that 90% of the dates I’ve showed up for either with boyfriends or for first dates like this, I’m guessing the guy was thinking “You look great”. I’m not awful looking, I’m fairly handy with the hair and makeup and I will usually be showcasing some nice physical feature with my clothing. Be it my legs or my cleavage. The point is I’m sure I’ve been wearing something that has turned the guy on, or that he’s thought looks well.

Now. I can’t tell you how many times that has happened in the reverse. Because it’s so rare. I’m not saying guys haven’t made an effort I’m just saying it’s been rare that it’s been anything that I thought was particularly good. And when I’ve picked the outfit it doesn’t actually count.

I would just like to go out someone and for them to regularly turn up wearing things that make me want to grope them. Just as I feel sure that I regularly show up wearing something that is a turn on.

And I think this must be typical for a lot of girls. We’re always there with the short skirts or the slinky dresses or the tight jeans or the strategically cut tops. When we’re going out – we are making a certain effort that I (Personally) don’t find reciprocated and Jesus – I’d really love to experience it even for a little while.

Now I’m not saying I’ve been going out with guys who wear bin bags I’m saying that it’s all been a bit nice. Safe. Unadventurous. Unexciting. It’s just never turned me on.

I’d love to go out with someone who wore stuff that turned me on – just something a bit stylish.




So here I am. On a date with a boy who has shown up in a head to toe outfit that turned me on. I wanted to be seen everywhere with him. I wanted to be photographed with him. Ok, not literally. But kind of. I felt we looked great, you know? Not crazy, hipster, inexplicable catwalk stuff – just a tiny bit stylish.


But I didn’t sleep with him.

I did not take him home.



Well. As much as I was into him physically and sartorially…. It really was all style and no substance. Not that he was thick or uninteresting, he was neither. He was smart and well-travelled and had a lot to say. It was just a shame that it was me doing the driving.

I would ask the questions and come up with topics which were the catalysts for our conversations. But he didn’t ask any back. I had to interject with my answers to the questions I’d posed – where I could grab the chance. It was me coming up with the guessing games as to what the other people in the bar were here for, the best toilet graffiti. I actually feel like I couldn’t have been more engaging and charming. (Which I suppose is what I would think!)

So I made the decision that I wasn’t bringing him home. When he asked if I wanted another drink I said it was late, I had to go. But as we walked up the stairs to go out the main bar he slipped his hand in mine and softly said “Ah come on, we can have one more, surely?” And he nodded towards the end of the bar where there were two perfectly positioned seats.

But this was the first time he had so much as brushed off me all night. Our knees are now intertwined a bit and he leans in and kisses me. Fleetingly. He leaves his hand at the small of my back.

All of which would have been great if he had done it a couple of hours ago – but he didn’t. It was only when I said I was going to leave that he made any physical effort to show he was into me.

And only then did he actually ask me about myself. Just a shame that those questions happened to be about why I couldn’t bring him home and why did I have to be up so early and what was stopping me from letting him come with me…..

We finished our drinks and he slipped his arm around me as we walked out. And I loved it. I caught a glimpse of us as we passed a window; we looked every bit as good together as I thought. Well in typical me fashion I thought I could have looked a bit fitter but still – pretty good for a kind of warm night in Ireland.

It was barely 100 meters to a cab rank and he opened the door for me to get in, which is when I turned around and said oíche mhaith. “Are you serious?” was his response. Yes, I’m afraid. I have to go home and get the house ready for my Airbnb guests tomorrow. “Ok, oíche mhaith so”. And he closed the door.



I got two texts from him that night, offering his cleaning skills – which was cute and I believed there was no sulking. But then I never heard from him again.


What’s the moral? There’s no moral but there are two lessons. One, as much as I thought George Michael was always, always wrong when he said ‘Sometimes the clothes do not make the man’ – it turns out he was right. As custom designed from my aesthetic fantasies as this guy was, and as much as I did actually want to sleep with him, by the end of the night I didn’t. He did not make me feel like he had any real interest in me and I don’t mean that in a wants-to-marry-me-and-give-me-babies way. I didn’t think he really desired me for even that one night. It wasn’t until the very end that he deigned to put a hand on me. Now I think if you’re into someone there’d be some tell-tale body language throughout the evening, no? Even if you’re only into having them that one time.

That coupled with not really asking me anything about myself? Well my conclusion was: he wanted a ride but he wasn’t going to be doing anything to see if I was having a good time in bed because he wasn’t doing that for the evening leading up to it. And that was a damn shame as I had thought he had that glint in his eye…..

I can’t sleep with someone if I don’t believe they are into me. Or indeed if I feel I won’t be getting anything from it.



So daters out there. Be engaging, ask questions, try and even ACT like you give a fuck about the other person and who knows, I might* just sleep with you.


I don’t know what other women want and I don’t know how they feel about guys being built. But I want someone who acts like they really want to sleep with me all the rest I couldn’t really care about.




*No might about it. If he’d made 1% more of an effort I would have. If he had even kissed me for longer than 3 seconds at a go… he’d have been in my bed faster than you could count the number of questions he asked me about myself!