Redhead Bunnies

Happy Easter!

For me, this morning at Paradiso beach resort was all about sunshine, waves, and a little playful fun with Easter bunny outfits. Jess arrived in clean lines, bold cut outs, and that unmistakable “I know exactly what I’m doing” energy. 

My own look leaned into a sleek, structured look. A touch of classic showgirl with playful details. The kind of outfit that says Easter but whispers after-hours. Since I’m not quite as bold as Jess, my outfit also came with a matching skirt I could slip into for walks to and from the beach when I worry about sort of disapproving looks I might get for looking indecent.

Side by side, our styles told completely different stories of two redhead bunnies: Jess daring and minimal, me sculpted and dramatic. Naturally, a few silly runway walks across the deck happened, accompanied by lots of laughs, before talk turned to swapping notes on our Easter egg hauls waiting for us at home: Jess with her fancy Thornton’s chocolate egg, and me with my favourite, an Orange Twirl. 

Sunshine, bunny ears, laughter, and the promise of chocolate made for a perfectly festive morning.

Daisy-chained perving

This incident got me wondering; have I ever, at least knowingly, perved on someone who was, in turn, already perving on someone else? Like a daisy chain of perving, if you will?

I'm honestly not sure if I ever before I caught Emmy being a perv at this nude beach and couldn't resist perving on her. I mean, I make no secret of how much I enjoy perving on her being a filthy slut, either with men or other women. Her lewding just turns me on too much for me to be able to turn away whenever she is doing what she does best.

However, when I started perving on her on this occasion, I had no idea that things were going to go where they ultimately did. By which I mean Emmy producing a strap-on from god knows where and then inviting the subject of her perving to hop on for a ride.

I genuinely thought that Emmy was just being her usually insatiable self, trying to turn every woman on the planet towards being Em-sexual or Ex-curious with a bit of lewd flirting or teasing. And, although I know from first hand experience how persuasive she can be, I really wasn't expecting it to necessarily go anywhere. It just seemed like she was perving on a friend who was already lost in her own world of self-pleasuring.

But once these two started going at it, my entire focus was them. On a beach that was surprisingly full of naked fuckers swapping bodily fluids, there were only two bodies that my attention was fixated on.

Well, perhaps I should say say three as my hand slipped between my legs so I could pleasure myself whilst enjoying the show they were giving me. I squelched my fingers in and out of my wet cunt in time with Emmy's partner bouncing on her fake cock. A whole week of sexual frustration finally getting released as I swiftly brought myself to the edge of an orgasm.

At this point, I may have gotten a bit lost in my own pleasure though, with my attention switching entirely towards just getting myself off as quickly as possible as I closed my eyes and furiously fingered myself to climax. 

It was only then, after I regained my composure that I realised, in the quest for my on gratification, that I had completely missed Emmy making her partner cum as well. As my eyes opened, they were already sharing a post-orgasm cuddle and I had missed the best part of the show. How embarrassing for me...

But, a final thought to sign off on; I wonder if anyone was perving on me fingering myself, thus extending the daisy chain of perving even further? I would like to think that, unbeknownst to me, there could have been a fourth participant to this lewding. Or maybe even more! 

Like I mentioned though, there was plenty of fucking and foreplay going on up and down the length of this nude beach though, so it might be wishful thinking to hope that, out of all of the available options to perv on, someone else might have chosen me as the focus of their attention. And the chances that someone else then chose to perv on that person are even slimmer still. I can hope though...

Lofi Blogging

I’d been seeing Ellis Nash posting about her new always-open café and curiosity made me wonder if I should try it out as a blogging spot. The idea had a certain pull: a space designed for chilling and without the sterile feel of working from the same four walls day after day. I wanted to see if it could become one of those go-to spots, the kind you retreat to when you need to get your head down but also get out.

It didn’t take long to realise it might be exactly that.

With a balcony stretching out over the beach, I found a comfortable spot, opened my laptop, and let the atmosphere do its thing. Lo-fi beats drifted gently through the space, never intrusive, just enough to blur the edges of distraction. Below, the tide rolled in and out with an unhurried rhythm, adding its own quiet percussion to the soundtrack.

Something about it made focusing feel effortless. Not forced, not wrestled into submission, just… natural.

It’s the kind of place that doesn’t demand productivity but somehow encourages it anyway. A soft reset button when routine starts to feel stale. Safe to say, Ellie's Lofi Cafe could quickly earn its place as a future escape hatch for those moments when I need to work, but somewhere better than the usual.

To Fap Or Not To Fap?

Question... Is the Voyeur Masturbation Lounge a lounge for voyeurs to masturbation or is it a lounge masturbators can be voyeured? Or perhaps it isn't deep enough for there to be a distinction?

It's just that it makes me think of an episode of South Park from around 27 years ago where the members of Korn, while making a guest appearance, mused over whether the ghost pirates that were haunting them were real life pirates who died and returned as ghosts of their original selfs, or whether they were regular people who died and, upon returning as ghosts, decided then was a good time to restyle themselves as pirates in their new found afterlife.

I know, I know... I make weird connections between things in my head if that is what is on my mind when perched in a room full of naked folk, rubbing themselves off. And its not like I've become so accustomed to finding myself in these sorts of places over the last decade plus of doing this that I have become utterly desensitised to sexual energy that reverberates through the air at such events.

Far from it in fact... I cannot deny that I was extremely tempted to move from my voyeur perch on the periphery of the events to the very heart of it to join in. Having not had the pleasure of getting myself off for well over a week, there were was certainly plenty of sexual frustration built up in me that was bursting to explode out.

Furthermore, it feels like forever since I last indulged at a masturbation party. Far too long , I would say. Something I was feeling quite keen to put right. But there was one thing that put me off. And, as it turned out, this was a a deal breaker - I found a few of the other guests to be a little creepy or pushy and I just don't like putting myself in that sort of vulnerable position - and what is more vulnerable than stripping off in a room full of strangers to touch yourself in a very intimate manner - when I don't feel completely comfortable with the others around me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there was anything sinister or menacing about any of the others guests. There were just a few attempted pick up lines that gave me the sorts of vibes that our values or sexual wants didn't quite align. For example, it was clear that a few of the guys there were just looking for someone who was down to fuck, which is 100% not the reason I would visit a masturbation party.

Experience has taught me that in those sort of situations, it is just better for all involved if I just stick to what I love the most... lurking around the fringes so I can enjoy the sexy show without any stress or anxiety. An approach that proved to be a good call given what some of those that I was a little nervous of ended up getting up to when they managed to find some willing partners.

Anyway, hopefully, I will find myself feeling more at ease in a similar sort of place some time soon though. I could do with a warm up or two before Masturbation Month arrives in the not too distant future...

Couch Surfing Over Crowd Surfing

There’s a certain unspoken contract at a rock show: your feet will ache, your voice will go, and personal space becomes a distant memory. So when I found myself sinking into a couch - yes, an actual couch - at Bash at the Beach, watching Black Soul tear into a set that rattled the air like a thunderclap, it felt like I’d somehow cheated the system.

From that low-slung vantage point, the night unfolded differently. Not worse - just… surreal. The stage still burned in deep reds and strobes, the crowd still pulsed like a living organism, and Black Soul still delivered their signature blend of gritty rock and nu-metal with the kind of precision that feels almost dangerous. But instead of bracing myself against the barricade, I was half-reclined, drink in hand, watching chaos with the composure of someone at a cinema... if cinemas came with distortion pedals and kick drums that punch you in the ribs.

And then came the real twist: new material.

A few tracks slipped into the set like secrets whispered too loudly to ignore. Unreleased, untested, and completely electric. You could feel the crowd recalibrating in real time - heads tilting, bodies adjusting, that shared moment of “wait, what is this?” before the beat drops and suddenly everyone’s on board. Even from the comfort of my unlikely throne, the energy hit just as hard. Maybe harder, because I had the space to actually take it in.

There’s something oddly decadent about experiencing raw, high-voltage music while sitting down. Like watching a storm from behind glass instead of standing in the rain. You’re still part of it, still moved by it, but there’s a layer of distance that turns the whole thing into something almost cinematic.

By the end of the set, the couch felt less like a luxury and more like a vantage point. A front-row seat to both the spectacle and the subtle details. Rock shows aren’t supposed to be comfortable. But maybe, just this once, that’s what made it unforgettable.