Cluck You

The conversation at my crafts group turned to swear words. Now, seeing as my crafts group are made up of mainly lovely older ladies, you can be assured that they swear with dignity. I envy that. I can learn a lot from these ladies, and not just how to cast on a row.

I fancy a swear now and again.

Scratch that, I fancy it most of the time. Even during sex, I just want to swear my tits off at how absolutely fantastic it is. Good swears are the best. When you’re walking in the street and all of a sudden, you stop and go “Fuck yeah!” at something awesome. That’s the way it should be.

The way it shouldn’t be was demonstrated in a very apt way earlier this week.

Let’s set the scene.

Tesco, in the early evening. You’ve just come back from a lovely day. You roam the aisles looking for a fix of strawberry laces (because of course) and Coke Zero. Having located your poison for the evening, you head for the till. At the same time, an older woman and her daughter are headed for the same till. You take your naturally assigned place in the queue and start unloading your items, making sure said lady has enough place.

Said lady then gives you the evils and says (quoted verbatim) “Well, it seems your need is bigger than anyone else’s.”

She then exits the line and buggers off to another till. Huffily.

When this happens, you get the rare chance of momentarily floating above the world to clock your own reaction. In my case, this was mounting anger.

And of course, seeing as I suffer from espirit d’escalier (only figuring out what you wanted to say after the even) it wasn’t a lovely moment in Boyd history.

As I write this, I remember the dignity of the swears emitted by my lovely crafty lady friends. So, I wanted to end this post with a message for this lady at the till.


Dear Lady at The Till in Tesco,

I have taken umbrage to your wanton display of hissy-ness. Although I do not know of the situation you were in at the time you came to my attention, this does not qualify you to have a go at me.

My needs are not greater than anyone else’s. And to me, without knowing your situation, neither are yours.

Cluck you, Lady.

Cluck you very very much.


Jillian Eve Q Boyd, 21, irate customer.



Home Comforts And Empty Minds

In times of duress, you want to have a little piece of home with you. No matter where that home lies, or if it lies in two different places, you want something familiar to remind you that you are not alone in this world. For me, it’s a few things. A homemade CD someone special gave me. A picture of my mother from her wedding day. The big jar of Douwe Egberts Instant Coffee that stands reassuringly in the aisles of Tesco. Apple sauce. Tartare sauce. Songs that make you grin and think of that moment, no matter what that moment is. Silly things, really, but they remind me of comfort and open arms.

I’ve been clinging on to those things for dear life.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m in a dark place in my head and I can’t really find something that’ll take me back to lightly, brightly, sprightly me.

The natural answer would be crafts. For some reason, I’ve really taken to something that I was shite at growing up. I kid you not when I tell you that I actually made someone cry during collage making because I ruined a collage of her face.

(sidenote: kids can be wankers)

Yesterday, I hiked up to a church in the more rural bit of the city, to check out a crafts group. I had nothing with me to make, but I ended up having an excellent time. Smack on me all you like for being boring, but crafts really does bring people together. It creates a sense of community.

The ladies at the group were really kind and caring. Two of them immediately took it upon them to teach me how to knit, and one lovely lady even suggested she teach me dressmaking (once I master the knitting). There is something so soothing about knitting…. Can’t really put my finger on it.

By now, you’re probably throwing a massive hissy fit at me. “This is a sex blog!” you shout in frustration. “Where’s the hot and steamy sex? Where’s the wank marathons and naked pictures? WHY IS SHE GOING ON ABOUT HER KNITTING CIRCLE?!”


Because I quite like writing about other stuff too?

Rest assured, the hot and steamy sex and wank marathons are still happening. There will be naked pictures aplenty.

But there will be talk about other things too. Including my “knitting circle”.

I just realized that I have veered massively off-topic. Do forgive me.

But in a way I haven’t, because crafts are a sort of comfort too. It’s a new kind of comfort that I’ve been looking for.

This dark place in my head is fucking scary. It’s that moment where the mind goes completely blank and just plays you solemn guitar ballads the entire day. There is no sunshine in this chaos in your mind. It’s frustration. You want to learn, you want to soak up the world and you want to Get Shit Done, but all you can find the power for is lying in bed, listening to more guitar ballads.

I’m surprised I even managed to get up this morning. I retreated to bed at five PM last night and just stayed in my room eating rice cakes and crisps. This is not good. This is not how a Barenaked Lady behaves.

A Barenaked Lady shakes off the empty mind and Gets Her Shit Together. She musters up the courage to go pay the rent, put the little money she has to good use and come back from her day ready to write. A Barenaked Lady seeks solace in those h0me comforts, whilst at all times reminding herself that home is where the heart is and her heart is in many places at once. She knows that she is not alone and that she has wonderful friends in her life.

She finds her way home effortlessly, without moving a muscle. Because she is home in the heart and mind. Whatever that may mean.

Someone wise once told me that if you don’t know what to write about, write about not writing. Because at least you’re writing.

Sound advice, because it got me to write at least 700-odd words today.




PS: I best go and get that jar of Douwe Egberts Instant. I’ve been craving coffee all morning now!


Shifting Gears

So, after a weekend of being in the “erotic bubble”, I am currently trying my best to get back in the weekly swing of things.

I`ve already been to the store to get some breakfast, done some laundry and cleaned house. I`ve got two more bouts of laundry to do, cards to make and a store to set up on Etsy.

This is real life for me. I still have no steady job (but have faith that I will have soon), so I keep myself busy as good as I can. The card-making has proved very therapeutic. It`s combined with lots of reading up on how to start a micro-business, and honing my erotic writing skills.

So the bubble seeps into the cracks of real life.

I`ve always had trouble keeping the two lives apart. Maybe it is because I was very open to the people around me from the start. Or maybe because it was the only life I felt myself able to lead at home. It certainly was more interesting than looking for flats and lying on the couch all day.

But life has shifted, and I`m now much more active during the day. I`m getting up at a proper time, going outside every day, and actively looking for a job. I have a life outside the erotic bubble.

It takes some getting used to. This morning, I felt like I needed to shift gears between lives, and get back to the daily grind.

And I like that.

I like that Kinky Jilly is not the only facet of my life. Sure, she tends to seep in through the cracks. Which is also fine. Vanilla Jilly tends to seep in the other way too.

It feels like my life is in more of a balance than it was some months ago. I`m learning how to do the independent thing, making my way in life and having a good time.

I`m slowly adjusting to life in Essex. And I wouldn`t want it any other way.

And if you made it through this post without wanting to completely give up on the notion that this is, in fact, a sex blog, congratulations.

Here`s a little tidbit for you, just as a reward.

I wanked last night. I have no idea how many orgasms I had, but they were all glorious. All eleventy-billion of them.

I feel good about wanking again. Yay.

Expat In Overdrive

I`ve been quite down on myself in the past few days. If I thought that the excitement and drama and general whatthefuckery of the past month wasn`t going to catch up with me… well, I was sorely mistaken.

I`ve been feeling drained and slightly empty. That`s apparently the price you pay for a few weeks of happiness. I remember being so happy on Thursday. I felt like I was on top of the world. But I felt deflated on Friday, and it has stuck with me ever since.

Tinkering with the blog (does one like the new lay-out?) and applying for plenty of jobs has sort of kept me grounded. I`ve also got an idea for a new project, but I just need to muse on it for a bit.

All this dancing around has left me no time at all for sextracurricular activities… So, this Lady has plans to change all of that.

Following in the footsteps of Lady Pandorah, Blacksilk and Bondara, I am going to attempt something grandiose. Ever heard of the 100 Orgasms in 10 Days challenge? Yeah, I`m doing that. Well, I`m going to try.

It would be a lovely way to christen my new bed (which is so good, I actually considered just lying in there all day). Plus, I`m already keeling over with the horn, so it`s convenient.  

There is a downside to it though. All the emotions of the past month have left me tired and worn out. Will I find the physical and mental strength to at least manage a couple of orgasms? Or will I actually fall down in the middle of this?

Tune in to find out….


Imagine this…

You are gently woken up from your peaceful slumber. Trying to piece last night`s dream together, you come to the conclusion that your subconsciousness is very hell-bent on making you think it`s on acid.

You stir in bed, looking for your watch. Seven AM, you see. Mhm. Best get some more sleep then.

Turning around, you close your eyes and relax, letting yourself fall off to the Land of Nod.

But this morning, the journey is not meant to be.

Because you start noticing things around you. Things that want to distract you from sleepies. You notice that your breasts are popping out of your nightie. You make a mental note to actually go get a  new nightie and discard this fucker as soon as possible.

Then, you notice that your breasts have somehow migrated to the side of your body. Clearly, they aren`t having a good morning, and want you to know they are miffed.

You notice the copy of the first Rebus novel by your bed. You try to remember where you bought it, when you bought it and if it`s any good. Suddenly, you feel a bit glum. You wonder if Rebus is feeling the same this morning. Then, you realize that he`s slightly fictional.

Feeling like a tit, you turn around again, trying desperately to catch some much-needed Zs before you have to get up and face the day.

Unfortunately, a very vexed goose has decided to demonstrate the power of its vocal chords. For many, many minutes at a time. You fear that said goose is in the process of being horribly murdered.

You decide to get up anyway, and get dressed. For today, you are braving the Olympic crowds and hitting London for the Erotic Writers Meet in Soho.

And the thought of that alone gives you strength. Because no vexed geese, moaning mothers or Olympic crowds can cramp the fact that you are going to be in good company today. And you feel kinda proud to live here.


A Day At The Park

I spent some time getting dirty in a park today…

No, I didn`t scare the shit out of the entire population of my city by having a wank on the green.

Although this did happen…

Yes, this top isn`t exactly doing its best to hide my darling buds of May from view… But the upside is that I am wearing a highly flattering bra underneath, which helps a lot.

I spent time at the park, practicing some sketches. You might not know this, but I`ve become quite a craft lover. I`m currently trying to make some postcards to sell. I`m also trying to start up a bespoke erotica writing business, which excites me. And between all that, I`m teaching myself to draw filthy, dirty things….

This morning, I reckoned I could go to the park and read some erotica there. Geared up, with copies of The Sexual Life of Catherine M and Emmanuelle in hand, I headed over.

Well, tried to.

Real life got its ugly head in first. After it had stopped making silly faces and belching in my general direction, I made it there, and sat down under a tree. The urge to belt out Underneath The Mango Tree was huge, but I feared nobody would get my sly reference to Dr. No. Also, this is how my brain works.

The sketching went well. If all goes according to plan, I`ll upload them on here and on Fet sometime during the weekend.

Didn`t get the chance to read my saucy stuff, but I did get my craft on and made a lot of new cards.

D`you know what? Craft is sexy. Craft is hot. How bout DEM apples?

Betrayal of Cool

I`ve mentioned making a list full of awesome things that I want to do over the next few months. It really is a cool list, and I may actually post it somewhere if I find the time.

Yesterday was a good day, so I saw no reason not to try accomplishing one of the things on the list. This particular thing brought me to the Rock/Pop section of my local HMV.

I was looking for the letter S, and if there is one thing that always happens in situations like this, it`s suddenly forgetting the entire alphabet. It`s nice though, to discover other music. There are new editions of Pulp and Adam and the Ants out. Tyler from The Voice used to be famous. Jedward are a thing.

Soon, I found myself reciting the entire alphabet in silence, just to find the S, because I`m just that much of a nobbin. But I needn`t have feared, for the S was in sight, and so was my chosen CD.

Steps: The Ultimate Collection.

Yes, you heard that right. The awesome thing I set out to do was retrieving a bit of the incredible naivety I had back in the late nineties, when Steps were a thing. I grabbed hold of the CD and nearly cuddled it. That`s how excited I was. That is also how sad I am.

Inches away from luminaries such as The Smiths, I hugged a Steps CD. I felt like I had betrayed cool.

I didn`t end up buying it though. Partly because I`m low on funds this week. Partly because I really, really want to save up for the Best of: Tour Edition.

Isn`t that one of the great pleasures in life? Revisiting moments where you were really happy and nothing in the world could stop you? I mean, it might be a bit silly to buy that CD, but it means something to me. More than you think. I need that silliness in my day.

Not that I`m not doing well. I`m doing very well, actually, but I just need silly. Lots and lots of silly.

Silly is good.

Expat V Naps

I`m tired.

Which is about the jest of this entire post. And I mean it too. My entire body clock is messed up to the tune of midday naps.

Those aren`t fun. Today, I woke up feeling good about myself and happy to work on a story I had started. Once I finished that story, I went offline to make myself lunch and watch stuff I`d recorded on our Sky Plus.

At some point, I fell asleep.

Waking up four hours later with my mouth wide open and a scratchy throat.

This is somewhat ridiculous. I get enough sleep. I`m in bed at impossibly early hours, and I wake up at impossibly early hours. Why do I feel the need to waste four hours on shut-eye?

It would be worse if I wanked. Oh yes, seeing as wanking is now such an exhausting try that I need a lie down with myself from having a lie down with myself.

The only solution I see at the moment is connecting me to a caffeine IV for the rest of my life. Which reminds me that I desperately need a coffee.

I used to be a fan of naps. They were a nice addition to my day and I couldn`t get enough of crawling up under a nice fluffy blanket and letting myself drift off to the Land of the Nap Nod. Now, I hate them. They hamper my productivity and fuck me up spatially.

Now, if you`ll excuse me, I need coffee.

Expat V. Wanking

It says a lot that the only wank I`ve had since arriving in Essex happened over a week ago. And I sorta forgot about it. Yeah.

Not that it wasn`t any good, mind. It was just an odd one. I think my body hasn`t adjusted to the UK systems of horny yet.

Or maybe it has. I`ve been mentally horny for two weeks now, and I know just who to blame…

It`s the one who was on my mind when I lay down on my bed, Grey in hand. It felt odd to have that buzzy sensation back on my clit after a few weeks of… well, not having it there. I closed my eyes and let myself fall under the spell of my fantasies.

But it wasn`t that easy. I wasn`t used to this bed, to these sheets and to this new environment. Which raises the question : do new surroundings throw you off your game?

Fortunately, I had my perfect fantasy to guide me. Warm, big hands. Deft fingers. Delectable tongue. Yeah… you know. That.

The weird thing about it all was the sheer strength it took for me to stand up after the orgasm. I took a long nap afterwards, because I`m apparently completely incapable of doing anything without wheezing myself to death.

I`ve been on period-related horn ever since. I`d like that to be over so I can just go about my business like a normal pervert.

In the battle of Expat V. Wanking, I`d say wanking won. Whatever that may mean.

A Moment of Ehm

In preparing (badly) for this move abroad, I tried to take in as many details as I could. How to do laundry, how to cook, all that stuff. Still, there was one thing I hadn`t counted on…

It hit me yesterday, in the aisles of Tesco. In one… particular aisle…

You`ve all been there at some point. Maybe in a different situation as I was, but I can imagine that many a woman has faced the decision of which panty liner to buy.

Yes, it was time. Time to brave Tesco`s selection of panty liners and decide which one would be good enough. If you`re thinking “What the…?”, allow me to explain.

Until yesterday, I had no idea which ones were sold here. So, I had to get the lay of the periodic land, and decide whether I like my pants to smell like synthetic roses or not. It`s a pretty depressing affair, this. I realized that when it occurred to me that I had been lingering in the sanitary items section for longer than five minutes.

Eventually, I grabbed the ones that looked like the most sturdy (yes, I said STURDY) and went off to forage for food.

Why I decided to make this into a post is beyond me.