Three Years Later…

On this date, three years ago, I wrote my very first post in this blog. Three years… three bloody years. To be honest, I thought this blog wasn’t going to last beyond three or four weeks. I’ve got the attention span of a goldfish when it comes to things like this, so I figured it wouldn’t take long before I’d be doing something else.

Yeah, whoops, no dice.

I’m still here. And not only am I still here, I am still absolutely loving this blogging lark. Mainly because it’s broken my world wide open. I was incredibly sheltered, having spent six years at a boarding school and three years after that at home,combating severe mental health problems (which aren’t really over and done with, but I’m coping.)

Not to mention the years before that. My world mainly revolved around escaping from being bullied and escaping from the never-ending arguments between my parents. My preferred escape was always words, whether written in books or spoken in films. I wrote them as well, in a million notebooks and a million Word files.

When I started blogging, it was like opening my eyes to a world beyond my own for the first time. I used my words to wake up and blossom. I still am, three years later, in a new city, in a new country and a new life. And you know what? Sometimes, it’s bloody scary.

But the rest of the time, it’s really freaking cool.

Like, I’m learning about things I never even knew existed. Not just by talking about sex and sexuality, but all the things surrounding that. Gender, censorship, porn culture, relationships, using the written word to fight the good fight, writing erotic fiction and doing it my way.

I’ve always been good at finding the exciting in the mundane. I’m always doing it with the power of words.

And guess what?

I ain’t quitting now.

So, knock knock, motherfuckers, and welcome to year four of Lady Laid Bare. It’s going to be sweet as balls.

God, I’m sorry if all that sounded a bit up myself and pretentious. I really just wanted to say thank you to all of you for reading this blog, or having read this blog, or if you’re planning to read this blog in the future. My door is always open.

And thank you to the lovely ones. You know who you are, and you’re all getting a big hug from me the next time I see you all.

A celebratory gif to end things with? Don’t mind if I do.


Reintroducing The Lady

My name is Jillian Boyd.

Nearly 22, living in London, in a relationship with the best man I could ever imagine.

Nearly two years ago, I thought I was alone. I was going through a sexual overhaul in my life and felt like I was a complete alien. Peers were doing their thing, learning stuff at school and going out with people. Going on the piss and that. That wasn’t me.

I’d never had a boyfriend. The only relationship I had was with my television. And possibly my vibrator.

I quit school because of circumstances that I couldn’t control. A week later, my first post appeared in the wasteland that is the internet.

Since then, a lot of stuff has happened. I’ve explored my sexuality, come up with answers to questions and questions to answer. I’ve met some of the most amazing people you could ever imagine and I’ve got a small but lovely career-let as a writer of smutty stories going.

I lost my virginity.

I met the man of my dreams, who continues to push me to be the best that I can be.

And I moved to London. From another country.

To those of you who’ve just joined my journey, welcome to the funhouse.

To those of you who’ve been with me from the start, thank you.

Get ready for a whole new Lady….



I Am And Also Not ~ Schrödinger’s Sex Blogger

I’ve been blogging since February 15th, 2011, which is three months shy of two years. I had no set rules for this blog, other than that I would write about anything that came to mind about sex and my life. The first few months were rather more about trivial things that weren’t important in the grand scheme of Lady Laid Bare, but that slowly evolved into what the blog is at this moment.

Now, let me pose you a question, dear reader.

What is my blog anyway?

The question spawns from a recent MSN conversation I had with the esteemed Lady Pandorah. I would like to point out that this post is not meant as an accusation or an angry rant directed at her. I am merely stating my ponderings relating to said conversation.

Lady P noted that she thought my blog hadn’t found its niche yet. I said that I don’t think I need a niche to call myself a sex blogger. In turn, I asked her what a sex blog should be according to her. She stated that it should be high on erotic content, with sexual experiences writ out.

Which is not really what my blog is about. My blog is about finding myself, in life, love and writing as stated in my tagline. There’s sexual content, of course, but that’s part of my life now and forever. There’s erotica, but that’s natural seeing as I’m doing this writing thing on a regular basis now.

Which begs the question. Am I still able to put claim on the tag of sex blogger?

And while you’re at it, here are some questions for you to answer.

Isn’t sex blogging a niche in itself?

Does one need a sub niche to make it official?

What defines a sex blog for you?

Is there a certain level of expectations a sex blogger needs to keep to?


Food enough for a hearty discussion, I think.


A Hundred Thousand Smiley Faces


This morning, I woke up with a strange nag in my head.

“Check your stats.” it said. “Check them now.”

I fumbled with my phone (avec handy WordPress app) and checked them. Somehow, I had already managed 101 viewers today. It was nearly 9 in the morning, and it hit me.

I must have done it tonight.

And, a few moments after logging on to the computer and checking the feed, I realized I had.

100 000 viewers. On this website. A day short of my 18 month blogiversary. I did it.

A hundred thousand smiley faces. A hundred thousand people reading my words.

I feel so small. Humbled. Freed.

18 months ago, I started writing this blog with no intentions. A lot has happened since February 15th 2011 (yes, I do keep tabs on the date).

I made the most amazing friends in the world. I stretched my limits to beyond the horizon. I became an author, poet, guest blogger and, as of yesterday, sexpert for Singles Warehouse XXX.

My god, mein Gott.

Thank you. All of you. Even if you`ve never left a comment (and by all means, do!) or only visited once and clicked away instantly… Thank you! I love you all!

Stay with me, lovers. To the edges of time and space.




Camming in the Headlights

Okay, so this is my entry into this month’s Erotic Meet competition! The theme was “Rabbit in the Headlights” and was all about getting caught and the thrill of the game.

But as you are about to discover… It’s not that nice when it’s your own mother nearly catching you in the act…



I have to confess that I am extremely careful. I am by far the most paranoid masturbator I know. When you live with your parents, you don’t really have a choice, do you?

But being as careful as I am doesn’t mean that there is no danger.

Plenty are the times that I’ve suffered from “porn-guilt”. A stir in the hallway, a creak of the stairs, and my hand literally doing a sprint just to cover up any trace of the hot, sweaty monkey sex on my screen.

I am that careful.

Whenever I get the urge to watch porn when someone is nearby , I mute the sound. I do not want any evidence of my love for pegging to be seen by my parents, thank you very much!


There was a moment where I nearly did get caught.

I was camming with someone.

It was hot. Sweaty. A blur of hands and cock and lube and oh my God, he was coming.

I watched him come.

I was so far gone. But not too far gone to hear the absolutely terrifying sound of footfalls on the stairs.


Sure enough.

Literally MOMENTS after we turned off our cameras, my mother walked into the living room.

I can’t explain how my heart was beating at that moment. Not in a desirable rhythm would be an understatement.

I can see how getting caught is a thrill. Things move faster, harder, fiercer.

But somehow, I can’t see myself camming in the living room again….  


Be kind and put a vote in for me? Please?

The Fear

Never have I had so little to say about a wanking session.

Not that it was an uneventful one. On the contrary. It involved TPT (my pink G-spot vibe thingy), a lot of squirming and four orgasms. It was good.

Except, I’m pretty sure my vagina hates me because I wasn’t wet enough. And not being wet enough… yeah, that hurts. Like a motherfucker.

I would love to tell you every smutty detail, right down to the very dirty fantasy I think I may have had. Maybe. Possibly. Because I don’t know. Seriously. 

It’s not that I want to not write up these moments with myself anymore. In fact, I think that writing about what went on during my masturbation sessions was a big help in discovering things about my own sexuality. It’s just… I’m running out of ways to accurately describe the whole shebang. I mean, they’ve all been (my orgasms) quite good. I’ve discovered how I can come, I’ve discovered how my cunt works…

But I’ve completely run out of appropriate words for the entire process.

And I write words for a living, for fuck’s sake.

How did this happen? What does it even mean? Have I gotten so jaded by my ability to have a decent orgasm? Have they gotten… god forbid… same-y and boring?

Wait. Hold on a second.

That can’t be. I fucking cried after the last time I wanked. That must mean that I’m doing something really right, right?

It’s not about my orgasms. It’s not even about my ability as a writer. But then, what is it about? Maybe I’ve just become overly conscious of what it is I’m sharing.

Meeting Zoe Margolis and hearing her speak of how much shit she had to swallow after being outed was an eye-opener. I’m reading Girl With a One Track Mind: Exposed at the moment, and when she describes how she figured out that she was about to be outed, my blood ran cold. I’ve been living in fear of it happening to me.

I know it’s my blog, and I can say whatever the fuck I want on it (as ILB keeps reminding me) but I am terrified of it being held against me in the future. Sure, I can write about how it felt to stick Bootie up my arse for the first time, and believe me, I’m not averse to sharing this. But it did dawn on me that I am basically putting my rawest emotions out there for the world to see. Any malicious soul can take abuse of that if they wish.

In my strongest moments, I keep telling myself that I’m prepared to defend everything I’ve written on here. I’m willing to defend all that I am.

But sometimes, the terror does get to me.

I dunno. It’s just things I think about.



So that all happened. Hello, my pretties! I`m still in the LDN, spending money like the BAWS I am (but not really, cos I`m not). Just wanted to hop online and give you a little play by play.

Fuck me, Bristol was amazing! Eroticon was brilliant! I got to meet so many awesome people, including Zoe Margolis, which was a big tick off my sex blogger bucket list. More on all of that when I get back across the Channel.

I`m typing this from the comfort of my hostel. It`s lovely here and I can`t believe I hadn`t booked here in the first place! God, on that, Sunday was a horror story. Again, more on Sunday and on why Gumtree is a cautionary tale of absolute horror when I get back.

It`s Wednesday now, and I am meeting my gorgeous friend Loula for dinner later today. Can not wait to see her, and can not wait until she takes me out for a fifties style dinner!

Shall I leave you with a nugget of good news? What was that? Oh yeah… I`m on The Guardian`s website!!!!

Thank you all for making this possible. I couldn`t have done it without my pretties. May we continue to spread geek love and foodie madness everywhere.

So, on that note, I`m going to get myself breakfast/lunch. Tahh!!

(author`s note: also, SEAPIGEONS!!!)

The Fucking Queen of Everything

This is insane. I can’t even come up with a semblance of an idea of what words to put in this blog post. I wanted to write about what I’ve been feeling, but I’m constantly starting over because even words, my pretty, precious words, can’t even do this justice.

It’s like a little ball of something forms in my chest. This ball full of fury and hatred and frustration and anger at everything in the world. I just want to scream like a banshee. It’s actually hurting me to cork this all up inside me.

But I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say anymore. I’ve gotten through so many of those dark hours. Before last week, I never even considered killing myself, but I actually did. And I don’t want that shit in my head.

In my darkest hours, I want to give all of this up. I don’t know who I am, what I’m doing and if I even enjoy what I’m doing anymore. I can’t see a way out of this shit-covered maze.

But in the lightest hours, I feel like myself. I know who I am then. I am Jilly Boyd and I’m a goddamn fabulous woman. And I swear to God, I will not let you stand in my way of anything anymore. I will not let you get me down, I will not have you laugh at me.

You know, I’m fucking fabulous. I say random shit, I say to myself I’m fabulous, because I absolutely believe that I am. When I look at myself in the mirror, I finally see a 21 year old woman and not a haggard tramp. Not only am I mentally feeling well, I look fucking fabulous.

See, I wish I could hold on to thinking that when I’m feeling like this. I wish I could always run around with the belief that I’m the Fucking Queen of Everything.

But I’m managing pretty well. I still want to scream my lungs out and kick some people’s ass, but I take it on a day by day basis. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in twelve months time and that’s ok. As long as this week is good. And the next. And the next. I’m 21 for fuck’s sake. I wanna revel in my smorgasbord of life!

I apologize for the messy structure of my words. But then again, I don’t. It’s still not what I wanted to say, but I think I pretty much covered the basics.


Eroticon 2012 Meet and Greet

So, as you may have figured out, I’m off to Bristol next week for Eroticon 2012! Eroticon is the UK’s first conference for sex bloggers and erotica writers and since I am (coincidentally) both, I think I should feel right at home there.

Ruby, the incredible and multi-talented brain behind this whole shebang, asked us to introduce ourselves to the other delegates, so that’s what this here’s all about!

  • Name: Jilly/Jill Boyd
  • Blog: Lady Laid Bare (
  • Twitter: @JillyBoyd
  • Facebook: Jill Boyd (my avatar is a rose)
  • Height: 169 cms
  • Eyes: Bespectacled blue
  • Hair: Dark red, asymmetric cut
  • Describe yourself in three words: Foodie, friendly, bonkers
  • What are you looking foward to at Eroticon? : Interacting with new people, catching up with friends and learning about craft and stuff.
  • What’s on your Lovehoney wishlist? : I’m sure there are some books that I really want. However, I have been gagging for the Pure Wand for about a year now, so if I have enough, that baby’s going in my toybox…
  • What song would you add to the Eroticon playlist? Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing by Chris Isaac. I’d go for Wicked Games, but this is just way more sexy. The bass is just… gah! *ovaries exploded*


So, I hope to see you there! I’ll be, as I described myself to @mydesire, the small hag with the big bag!

What I Did On My Much-Needed Break

Eager readers might have noticed that I’ve not been feeling myself lately. So, what does one do when one’s lost touch with herself?

One buggers off for four days, of course.

It wasn’t meant to be four days. But after I discovered that I was more relaxed on the dentist’s chair, having a root canal done than working on my blog, the decision was quickly made. I needed the rest. I needed to focus on something else than whatever it was I was up to. Plus, I had a fucking huge stack of books I wanted to read. I mentally wrote up more blog posts than I could ever imagine, but the memory of the words has faded.

So, here’s a run-through of what I did. I will elaborate more in future posts. I finished The 52 Seductions, Girl with a One-Track Mind (I’m meeting her next week! WOOOP!), Miss Moneypenny’s Career Advice for Ambitious Women and How to be a Woman. I’ve started reading The Female Eunuch, Catch -22 and Moab is my Washpot. So far, I’m not loving Female Eunuch. But then, I’ve only read like two pages. I should read more of it. Question is, will I feel more like a strident feminist when I finish it? Or will I want to punch Germaine Greer in the face?

Judging from the way it’s written, it feels like Eunuch is a bit dated. Although Germaine herself writes in her new foreword that it’s not. I’m determined to see it through and read more of it, but it just feels like How to Be A Woman is much more suited to this day and age. Of course, that one was published last year… Anyway, I’ll persevere and read Eunuch!

Catch-22 is a godsend. It’s just… oh my God, it’s so fucking good! I’m pretty sure I’m missing the point entirely, but it’s one of the best things I’ve ever read.

I found Moab between a pile of books my cleaning lady had so helpfully removed from sight. I’ve been meaning to read it for a while now, and I don’t regret for one moment that I started reading it last night. Stephen often strays from the events that took place to write about the things floating around in his mind. I really don’t mind it at all. In fact, I love it. I actually feel like a smarter human being now that I know all about what he thinks. It’s like I’ve been granted access to his enormous and very sexy brain. Like I’m walking around in the vast library that is his mind.

I realized that if I somehow could learn only half that Stephen knows, I’d be unstoppable. I’d be like this massive brain machine. A very sexy, massive brain machine. Maybe I’m overreacting.

It helps when you picture Stephen Fry reading it to you, by the way. Adds to the experience.

I managed a lot of other stuff too. I wrote some of the first bit of Awkward Soup, my novel-in-progress. And I wrote this retrospective thing on my teenage years and what being a teenager is like now. Honestly, I like that idea more than just writing about crushes. I’m taking the laptop with me to London next week, so I can catch up on writing.

I’m loving how Awkward Soup is shaping up in my head, by the way. It’s the first time I’ve seen something clearly. So, yay, I think!

This time next week, I’ll be in London. I’m incredibly chuffed about that, although I spent some days considering cancelling the whole trip. But I really can’t wait to just dive in and spend two weeks there. I’ll first go to Bristol for Eroticon 2012, which you’ll be hearing more about later. And I’ll finish my trip by volunteering at the Semi-finals of the Erotic Awards! The motherfucking Erotic Awards, people! That’s serious shit, right there. I never expected ever being a part of this, and I’m so ridiculously excited that I am going to be there!

If I can manage, I’ll probably go to the Finals in May. Night of the Senses. Fucking aye. I remember looking on the website last year and thinking “If only I hadn’t missed that.”. Now I might actually be there. That’s freaky.

Anyway, that’s all you need to know for now. I’ll be posting more regularly now, but I’m going to try and take occasional breaks. Because even Bare Naked Ladies need an occasional lie-down.

This is a thing that happened.