Categorie archief: Uncategorized

new gallery, vintage clothing, old stories, contemporary photography

Best Worst Sex Story for not‐that‐sexy from our feminist Berlin friend 


wall view of the new gallery

All I was looking for were some photos. We’ve done this before.   Not too long ago, but it’s still been a while since we last met. Like the other time, I didn’t think this was going to happen for real, till it finally came true. He’s been organising the perfect location for a photo session I had in mind, to work on my ongoing project. As far as I remember I’ve been rather serious and a bit curious about the reunion, while he seemed to be all delighted and quite relaxed to see me again. I wasn’t, because I couldn’t think of anything nice that would possibly result in our meet‐up. Nevertheless I immediately fell in love with the space, where we were going to spend the next couples of ours together, trying to get somehow productive. Therefore I found a way to calm down and to focus on the one thing I came for this afternoon ‐ my photography of a nude male man. Even it wasn’t the first time for me and for him – and for the two of us together – we still struggled a little bit melting the ice at the beginning. 

I knew he was somehow a clown and always needs to fool around, making fun of a situation first, before this could get any more profound. But I wasn’t looking for funny pictures, I wanted to realize some honest and usable nudes. While he got used to the moment being naked in front of a woman, soon – I got used to my camera equipment and we merely started a conversation. I had to replace my tripod quite a few times, before I felt satisfied with the spot. It went darker outside and we had to switch on some bare light bulbs, hanging from walls. Suddenly, we’ve surely been trying around for a while now, the entire mood of our “togetherness” changed into some lightweight, easy‐going game. Perhaps of the music he turned on, or just because we did a similar thing already. I cannot clearly explain. I’ve been shooting some nice Black & Whites of him, solo acting in front of my lens. But I wanted more. Something I couldn’t define was missing. I undressed the very minute and we both finally stood naked against a cold wall, looking at the camera, looking at us. This was new. A moment, when you can’t tell what’s going to happen next. I grabbed my remote trigger while he grabbed my arm. *click* The first spontaneous image of the two of us nude together caught on camera. We moved to the music, but I rather moved along his demanding body language. He was pushing and pulling me gently into any imaginary position. He surely was the leader of this play. *click* A second shot was taken, *click* and another one followed shortly. To me it felt a lot like all I had was my remote release, while all he had was my body. I had no control over this, I could barely control my photos, but I couldn’t care less. I trusted into the moment and knew this was all going to be fine, somehow. It’s been a certain magic in the air. I fully enjoyed the soft touches of his body on mine. It must have looked a lot like we were dancing. We didn’t spoke a word anymore. I felt all sweaty and hot, although we were fully undressed. Strangely tangled, we sank to the ground together. I found myself lying on his back. I dropped my remote and the camera no longer was involved into the following intermezzo. He touched my inner leg and turned around. Our eyes never met, we were too busy with our bodies. I stroke his wet armpit all down the muscles on his torso. His legs were against mine and I saw the glans of his penis erected. I wanted to massage it. Suddenly he moved upwards and went into a dark corner of the room, returning with a yoga mat in his hands and a condom on his cock.   “Should make it all more comfortable!” he said smirking at me. I did not contradict or complain. All I wanted was him touching me again. He placed the mat next to me and I found myself on it the very second. I did ask him if anybody was going to catch a sight of what we were doing, because this room had some large wide windows without any shades and we still had the lights on. “Probably … certainly!” was what he mumbled, when I saw the reflection of our bodies against the dark background of the night sky inside the window glass. He put his hands on my thighs and started kissing my breasts. When he started sucking my nipple, the heat of my body exploded. I was all wet, I could feel it dripping between my legs down my bum. I shivered and cramped a little bit. He was gently uplifting me to put me right back on my knees. He wanted a Doggy. Now I was happy to feel the softness of the pad underneath my bones. My arms were folded across my head. I closed my eyes. First his fingers slowly swirled around my labia. When the grasp of his hands got harder on my ass he took hold of his shaft to penetrate my vagina. All was going so very easy. I waited for this moment so hard like I’ve been holding my breath.  When his dick moved inside me, the tingling in my belly and my chest went lower. He moved faster back and forward standing on one of his own knees, while his other leg were placed sturdy to fix the fuck. Eyes still closed I enjoyed the movement his body was doing to mine. I had to touch my nipple to push my heat a little bit. I imagined him fucking me. I could hear every single noise around us. He started moaning quietly, when his cock moved harder in and out of my swollen pussy. It went a little heavier, I had to hold onto the mat and folded my fingers around its edge to keep the pressure going. His voice was now soundly. It was turning me on. I knew he came this moment, but he didn’t stop or slow down after his relief. He just kept on fucking me. His cock was all hard and still ready for a next bang. I felt his hands moving upwards from my ass to my back and if this were a fantasy I would have wanted him to touch my tits and to stroke and caress me a little more, but soon his hands were tight around my ass again and his cock ramming me.  Until he cum for the second time. Nevertheless, this has been all over quickly. When he finished, he let go of me promptly and I turned around. I looked into a happy face with the exact same childish expression he was doing to fool around like a clown before getting undressed for my camera. He removed the sperm‐filled rubber of his penis and swung it around above his head like a cowboy does with a loop. I was all speechless and felt a bit insecure and baffled but overall I was exhausted from the lasting torture head upside‐down on my knees. He turned back at me. He was still all interested in making me orgasm. He said he was sorry, this ended so rapidly. I kind of went curious how he was going to bring it back on. He bent over my lower body and showed me his hand with a wink of an eye. Harshly he started penetrating my hole with two of his fingers. I was inhaling heavily. I probably would have told him he better should penetrate my clit first to make me feel anything again, but my body reacted to his rough touching in a strange way, unknown to myself. I couldn’t breathe steadily. I had tears in my eyes and my mouth was open wide. No chance for me to close it. It felt a lot like a spasm in my entire face. I was so embarrassed about this situation.  As if I had a big super‐sized dick in my mouth. “You hyperventilate!” he said and instantly placed his hand on my belly. He wanted me to feel the pressure of his hand and to breathe slowly and deeply against it with my entire body. It worked. I felt my lung volume returning and I was able to shut my mouth. After the “first aid”, the heat and pleasure moment between us was entirely gone. Ironically enough, this kind of has been my relief that night. We never met again, but I still got the photos. They turned out to be the true climax, instead of the sex.  


(would you also like a discount in the shop? write a story!)


We will be attending a talkshow for The Correspondent, june 2, 2016.

Talking dildo’s, bowling and panti-liners. Why some people do not want to kneel for dicks even though they are made of stone.

It happens to be that it will be filmed by high brow network VPRO, so we will not be shaving our legs,,,

Also, we will be announcing our new gallery!


Love Yoga


( thank you, lovely customer! for this sweet story. a good discount on a beautiful garment from the shop was given. now, readers, if you also want a discount on a piece, please make sure it is A Best Worst Sex Story. )

Whilst taking a course in Ayurveda-yoga in in India, I dedicated more time to deepen my yoga practice and established a magical and serene way of life that would touch the undiscovered layers of my body. I followed a couple of classes but was looking forward the private training I would receive today.

It was a hot day. I lied down on my yoga mat to start breathing deeply in order to connect with myself. I could hear Yogi Jois Swabi whispering: “ Close your eyes, relax and let your self sink down into the mat. Feel the touch of the mat, feel the pillows surrounding your neck, and feel the touch of your breath.”

His voice sounded soft but dominant at the same time so that I easily let myself guide trough his practice.

He asked me to open my legs in butterfly position, knees resting on the ground. “Be open for receiving”, he said.  I started breathing deeply and feeling the energy streaming trough my body as if I was getting excited the deeper and deeper I sunk into the mat and pillows.

I could hear his food steps coming closer towards me. In the next moment he was standing in front of me, going down on his knees grabbing mine and pressing them towards the floor. “Do not forget to breathe”, he said. And I fully let my self-go with his practice, enjoying the little stretch whilst he was pushing me lower into the mat. I could feel his breath on my skin and his warm hands resting on my knees. Once he could not sink any deeper, he started rubbing his cock on my front side while holding me back so that I was unable to escape.  I enjoyed the sensation of full desire with my eyes still closed and started moving my hips up and down. I moaned as he continued and started licking my nipples trough my sweaty shirt.  I wanted more which he noticed and started to suck them harder and harder.  I  let him pull my pans down and enjoyed his kisses going downwards my belly towards pussy.  Once he releases my hands, I started lowering his pans and touched his hard dick. I wanted to feel it inside of me.




Ze stond voor groep acht in een bloemenrok en een vaal grijs shirt. De ene mouw had ze als gewoonlijk opgeknoopt tot haar schouder. Ze had de moeite genomen een bh aan te doen, terwijl dat helemaal niet nodig was. Vandaag rolde ze een condoom over haar arm. Aan die arm had ze geen vingers, ook geen hand, alleen een stompje vanaf de ellenboog. De kinderen keken haar aan. “ Bij deze groep maar even geen onrijpe fair trade banaan.”

Stompie was bioloog. Af en toe zette ze haar ene been op de rand van het bad en tuurde met zaklamp, spiegel en vergrootglas naar haar binnenste. “ Dat ziet er niet best uit,” zei ze tegen zichzelf. Veel deed ze er niet aan, want ze had een lui en laf karakter. Via Facebook ontmoette ze op een vruchtbare middag een keer een vent die zei dat hij schrijver was. Stompie was zwak als het ging om mannen met cocaïne. Toegegeven, het verdoofde de boel, zeker na drie abortussen.

Na een paar weken seks met Johan werd Stompie weer zwanger, want ze nam de pil niet echt serieus. Maar ook deze man vroeg een abortus aan. Na een paar maanden verkering was Johan al weer toe aan een extraatje, dat gezamenlijk in de lokale bar werd gezocht. Hun wereldje was klein en Stompie vond een briefje op haar tafeltje waarop stond: “ Pas op voor Johan.”

De keuze viel op Fanny. Ze hield van eten, strippen en snuiven. Ze ging met hen mee naar huis. Na een uur dansten ze op tafel. “Nou ja, dansen, “ dacht Stompie, zij keek toe en nam er nog een. Johan lag al met Fanny te neuken. Stompie wilde ook wel meedoen, maar eigenlijk ‘kreeg ze hem niet meer omhoog’. Alleen maar toekijken leek haar ook zo onsportief. Ze friemelde wat en schoof over hen heen, probeerde hem te pijpen, kneep in haar tieten, liet zich vingeren en viel in slaap.


Gooogle translate:

They stood in a group of eight bloemenrok and a pale gray shirt. One sleeve as she usually hung to her shoulder. She had taken the trouble to put on a bra, and that was not necessary. Today she rolled a condom on her arm. That poor she had no fingers, no hand, only a stump from the Elbow. The children looked at her. “In this group, but just not fair trade unripe banana.”

Stompie was a biologist. Occasionally she put one leg on the edge of the tub and peered with flashlight, mirror and magnifying glass to her insides. “That is not good looks,” she told herself. Many of them did not, because she had a lazy and cowardly nature. Through Facebook she met in a fruitful afternoon once a guy who said he was a writer. Stompie was weak when it came to men with cocaine. Granted, it numbed the lot, especially after three abortions.

After a few weeks sex with Johan Stompie was pregnant again, because she took the pill is not really serious. But this man early abortions. After a few months of courtship Johan was already to a perk that collectively at the local bar was sought. Their world was small and Stompie found was a note on her table when: “Beware of Johan.”

The choice fell on Fanny. She loved food, strip and sniff. She took them home. After an hour they danced on the table. “Well, dancing,” thought Stompie, they watched and took another one. Johan was fucking all with Fanny. Stompie also wanted to join, but actually ‘she was not up to him. ” Only watch her seemed so unfair. She fidgeted a bit and slid over them, trying to suck him, squeezing her tits, fingering dropped and fell asleep.

international womens day

(this sunday march 8. free coffee for women who come to my weekendshop-in-shop, mail & female, nieuwe vijzelstraat 2, Amsterdam.)

i will not be your nurse not you

fill your fountain pen with my spirit you sucked up when

i was asleep wrote your words from my hands spinning tales from my hair your soup

the shape of my grain i will swallow my words speaking backwards

my fluids flowing back to me my kiss so dry your tongue pulls back in fear my lust inhaled safe

in my chest my nipples, soft my bed all mine the sheets not crumpled pluto back in the sky i was never there


ik zal uw zuster niet zijn dat je dat niet zag

vul uw vulpen met mijn geest, opgezogen wanneer

ik sliep schreef je woorden uit mijn handen spinnen verhalen uit mijn haren je soep

in de vorm van mijn graan zal ik mijn woorden terug slikken spreken

mijn vloeistoffen vloeien terug naar mijn kus zo droog je tong

terug trekken uit angst mijn lust ingeademd veilig

in mijn borst mijn tepels, zacht mijn bed allemaal van mij de lakens niet verfrommeld pluto

in de lucht was ik er nooit


in de blauwe schaftkeet

aan de bosrand draait

een speeldoosje lief geluid


waag jezelf eens naar binnen

je hoort er goede verhalen over

en nooit het hele verhaal


dat er een deken over je heen gaat

en je een centimeter of tien

wordt opgetild door zeventig handen


twee kraaienvleugels bedekken je ogen

en dan verschijnt Het Beest

slangachtig met de mond van een

reusachtige karper


het is een hongerig beest

drijf het niet tot waanzin


het kan meedogenloos uit de hoek komen


door Martijn den Ouden


in the blue canteen

turns on the edge

a music box sound sweet

weigh yourself once inside

you hear there are good stories

and never the whole story

that there is a blanket over you

and your ten centimeters

is lifted by seventy hands

two crows wings covering your eyes

and then the Beast appears

snake-like with the mouth of a

huge carp

it is a hungry beast

do not overdo it to madness

it may come relentlessly from the corner

New a shop a hang out!

A perfect and almost permanent location; NotThatSexy will move into famous feminist sex shop Mail & Female, Nieuwe Vijzelstraat 2, Amsterdam, The Netherlands.

See us in the back/ the second part (we have our own door!) of the shop on Saturdays & Sundays. The Openingparty is on Saturday, February 14 (Valentine’s day) 2015. Secretly we’re also celebrating the advent of the Year of the Goat.

The core of NotThatSexyBoutique is (vintage) clothing & erotic prints by Riekje. Customers get the chance to determine their own discount when they write an embarrassing sex anecdote, right there, on the spot! 

L’officiel opening is at 12.00, drinks will be served from 2.00, dildocompany Je Joue, will have a toast with us at 3.30 and will give away their own kind of discounts. Get yourself a good vibrator because you probably won’t get a g-spot orgasm with your boyfriends penis or watching 50 Shades of Clay (get a handmade dildo here).

Mail & Female will promote their natural latex clothing and we will end the day with a special performance of artist Maartje Smits. She will read awkward sex at 5.30; one of the first great stories of the NotThatSexy story archive was written by Rutger Lemm, who now published that story among others of his grand failures into a book.

Please have fun with us! Preview the shop here. Stay updated for more stories here and for ventages to come.

P.s. we don’t have a pin machine yet, so get your bank- or Paypal-app!NTS6




 flyer: esther walter

Getagged , , , ,

shop opening december 27

NotThatSexy will have its own boutique!

We will start at Art in Red Light in the Beurs van Berlage Amsterdam (Netherlands). After the fair we’ll be moving on to a secret location, reveiled beginning of next year (sign up via lodoso [at]!

Be the first to see the shop installation and other nice art works from saturday december 27 untill tuesday the 30th. Send us an email if you’d like a free ticket. If you can’t make it these dates, ask us for a private preview on tuesday december 23.

On exhibit there will be a surprise of special handpainted and screenprinted vintage imageclothing, all very decent. Well, not all. But the Beurs van Berlage will be more decent than the next location.

Also, light artist Marsha Metselaar and upholsterer Jaap Koets will accompany us.

Preview online at:

Get A Discount  Write A Best Worst Sex Story

“We came from a shoot. His dick was long, thin like his body.

Because I was wearing my vintage underpants, the Italian felt the need to shout his orgasm away in my ear. He probably screamed in every woman’s ear. One would suspect him of vanity. His bed looked like there was room for more than two.

From the moment we entered his apartment, he had a hand full of tricks, so-called laughs, that he probably thought I liked. He pushed me on his Yayoi Kusama beanbag. It was a little too hard, too practiced.

His hair was voluminous, a black hole, such a contrast with me. He went to take a piss. I took off my couture pants and had already partially undressed when I knelt to turn on a radio. He was startled, apparently felt that it wasn’t yet clear what we would do. I looked at my unshaven legs and thought that I could have done better.”

Eindhoven de gekste

uw lichaam minder wassen is beter voor het milieu

veeg dan wel even dat smegma eraf

laat kinderen eerst met erotische poesieplaatjes spelen

om meer poëzie en liefde in Mcseks te krijgen

lydia van streek






poesieplaatje Lydia van Streek


Ik kreeg een heel vriendelijk bericht uit Eindhoven. De firma Vruchtvlees had verhalen voor mij verzameld. Ik beloof wat films van de Sexotheek op te sturen.

Aannemende dat de verhalen autobiografisch zijn (echt niet altijd!), heeft de schrijver van ‘Brazil’ iets meer smaak in haar leven nodig. Het was ook geen Best of the Worst, zo leest het. Misschien doet de verhandelde vrouw het uit eigen wil, maar slagroom is toch een beetje gedateerd? Alles wordt uitvoerig beschreven en herhaald, maar het einde laat ineens alles in het midden. Voor het andere eetverhaal ‘Kapsalon’ verwijs ik naar Jezebel waarvan de schrijver een magazin citeert over sekstips met eten: “While D. and I got ready for bed, I informed him very matter-of-factly, ‘I’m going to slip a doughnut around your penis and eat it off.’” Gatver, een donut. Wie ooit in New York en omstreken is geweest, heeft gezien wat het eten ervan aanricht bij onder andere politieagenten. Als je wil spelen als een kind kun je toch ook naar de wilde Renate gaan?

De seks in het verhaal moet je erbij denken. Of zijn er metaforen in het spel: “hij greep wat gebraden vlees…ik stopte het in mijn jaszakje” ? Hieronder ook nog een heel kort verhaal waar je een heleboel bij moet denken. Ik wil de schrijver oproepen om deze synopsis uit te werken tot een echt verhaal, waarna ik haar beloon met een echte film. Tip: kleed het leuk aan, omschrijf het, verwerk de clou erin, maar benoemen hoeft niet.

trapped in the closet






jurk met text etsy

En dan die andere kaasboeren. Wassen hoeft inderdaad niet, maar ga niet iemand beffen als je herpes hebt! Wel eens van een SEKSREGENJASSIE gehoord!? Men zou toch denken nog eerder met seks- en liefdeslessen op basisscholen te beginnen. Niet pijpen met een koortslip, kinderen. 

De derde heer is nog wat minder ver verwijderd van zijn cro-magnon-staat van zijn. Maar wellicht is hij deze keer wel de winnaar van de verhalenwedstrijd omdat hij zichzelf als loser neerzet tegenover zijn vrouwonvriendelijkheid (‘ te miepen over privacy’). Neuken met een vrouw die in zijn ogen niets waard is, maakt hem echt niet te verteren. Als deze persoon niet tegenwoordig een gay-lifestyle aan het leiden is, is hij hopelijk betere plastics aan het ontwerpen.

 (Let op de drie Wilma Flinstones!)

De authentieke, anonieme verhalen:

1. Brazil: Na een mooie 10 maanden in Brazilië te hebben gewoond was ik weer herenigd met de man van mijn leven. Ons seksleven bestond uit wild seksen in de neukhotels van Pipa & omstreken. De goedkoopste & leukste optie voor verblijf met telkens een upgrade van een paar extra spiegels, bubbelbad, sauna of ‘massagebank.’Voor ons studenten de meest luxueuze neukomgeving denkbaar. Eenmaal voorgoed terug in NL zouden we ons samenzijn vieren in Antwerpen. Eerlijk gezegd klikte het niet tussen ons. Was dit nu de man waarmee ik spannende smsrelatie had onderhouden met af en toe een stomende webcamsessie en geile praatjes? De seksuele frustratie vierde hoogtij in mijn brandende lichaam van verlangen. We besloten het op een zuipen te zetten. De oplossing voor 1 ieder met een hang naar de roerige mist van alcoholdampen. We hadden wellicht ook gewoon nog een keer ‘gevoelloos’ kunnen seksen op de suffe hotelkamer die alles in het niets viel met onze waargebeurde warme Braziliaanse fantasieën. Maar we besloten te zuipen en goedkope stripbars te bezoeken. Hierdoor werden we zo vrolijk van de aanschouwde troosteloze bende dat we besloten onze spanning op te voeren in een sjieke stripbar. Bij binnenkomst werd ik veroverd door de sfeer van trillende billen tegen spuitende bubbels uit groene flessen Pellegrino. Tegelijkertijd dronken we te dure wijn en werd ik voor 1 nacht verliefd op een stripper. Al snel zat ik samen met mijn lief in een geluksbubbel van verlangen en opwinding door de opgevoerde acts. Enkele min. later werd ik plotseling door de persoonlijke bodyguard naar voren begeleid. Hij gaf me 5 euro, gebood me te zitten & het geld aan de dame te geven. Dronken v/d alcohol en spanning besloot ik zijn gebod zonder goed overleg op te volgen. De mooie danseres bleef in haar slipje voor me staan, wiegde heen & weer, spoot koude slagroom op haar tieten, boog door haar knieën en pakte het geld en mijn hoofd vast. Het was lang geleden dat mijn mond & tong zoiets zachts hadden gevoeld. Vriendlief stond met glunderende ogen het spektakel te aanschouwen. Hij wilde dit feestje naturlijk ook mee maken. Vele euro’s later mochtten wij dit spektakel samen ervaren. Dronken van spanning, liefde & geluk, maar vooral alcohol zijn we de nacht in gegaan. De volgende ochtend werd ik schreeuwend wakker. Dit kon toch niet waar zijn? Ik, het schattige meisje had mee gewerkt aan het prostitueren van vrouwen. Wat een slecht verhaal. Vriendlief is en blijft me eeuwig dankbaar voor deze eenmalige seksuele uitspatting. Misschien was het achteraf gezien deze vrouw de redding van onze liefde. En bezorgd ze dit geluk aan vele jonge & oude stellen met haar slagroom bespoten borsten. Mmm ik krijg spontaan zin in appeltaart en wens vurig dat de laatste naieve veronderstelling dichter bij de werkelijkheid ligt dan ik nu werkelijk denk.












2. de Clou:

 clou anoniem






3. mn Maat: Nu ongeveer 7 jaar geleden werd ik aangenomen op de Design Academy. Om dit te vieren moest ik me natuurlijk helemaal klem zuipen. Maar me enkel de vernieling inzuipen zal niet volstaan. Er moest ook geneukt worden. Samen met mijn maat gingen we te Utrecht de hort op om twee gewillige vrouwen te charteren. Dit lukte. Eenmaal in zijn studio apartement aangekomen begon die van mij te miepen over privacy. Ze wou niet 2 meter naast haar vriendin (en mijn maat) de daad volbrengen. Er was naast de keuken/ slaapkamer combi nog 1 vertrek. De douche. Opzich wel fijn wat hygiëne. Maar eenmaal onder de douche steeg de damp naar hoofd. Om te voorkomen dat ik van m’n stokje zou gaan besloten we al zittend op de wc de boel af te ronden. Ik deed de deksel omlaag, ging zitten en liet haar d’r ding doen. Dit deed ze echter met zulke overgave dat de hardkunststof wc-deksel het begaf. Ik zakte met m’n reet in de plee langs de scherpe punten van de in stukken gebroken deksel. Met diepe krassen en sneeën als gevolg. Een ideaal moment om m’n met bloed bedropen hand en benen aan m’n maat te tonen en kosterlijk te lachen…

4. Kopkaas: Tijdens een festival in België belandde ik na 4 dagen niet wassen, veel zuipen en kutten en met dezelfde onderbroek met een dame in de tent. Mijzelf bewust van mijn niet zo frisse kruiszone stelde ik voor dat alleen wat handwerk het wel zou doen. Toen ik aankondigde dat ik ging komen raakte ze even in paniek omdat ze niet wist waar ze ‘het’ moest laten. Na een moment van aarzeling besloot ze om ‘m in haar mond te nemen. Ik had op dat moment haar niet willen zijn…

5. Geslachtsziekte:

herpens anoniem







Moschino Capsule Collection 2014 IIHIH










kleding Moschino

6. Shawarma:

En het eindigt met: "Wat daar precies in zat weet ik niet. Wellicht zijn met knoflook besmeurde beddengoed."

En het eindigt met: “Wat daar precies in zat weet ik niet. Wellicht zijn met knoflook besmeurde beddengoed.”



3. my Buddy: Now about 7 years ago, I was accepted at the Design Academy. To celebrate this, I naturally had to guzzle me at all terminals. But I just inzuipen destruction will not suffice. It also had to be fucked. Along with my mate went to Utrecht on an outing to charter. Two willing women This succeeded. Who began to Miepen privacy. Mine once in his studio apartment arrived She did not want 2 feet of her friend (and my size) to accomplish the deed. Next to the kitchen / bedroom there was still one combo departure. The shower. Flashy sliced, some hygiene. But once in the shower vapor rose to head. To avoid that I would go out of my wand we decided while sitting on the toilet to finish off. Things I put the lid down, sat down and let her do dr thing. This she did, however, with such abandon that the hard plastic toilet lid broke down. I fell with my ass in the toilet along the sharp edges of broken into pieces cover. With deep scratches and cuts as a result. An ideal time to show my blood basted wood and legs of my size and sexton truly laugh …

Getagged , , , , , , , , ,

(your cauliflower will never be the same again)

We have another price to win!

It’s an original 40x50cm green oil painting of a bald vagina by one of our sponsors in collaboration with a photographer. We will take it with us to art house cinema cafe Kriterion, Roetersstraat 170, Amsterdam (where we did the summer party called Femathon). We’ll be talking about a new feminist movie together with Mail & Female’s Love Academy (while you’re writing down or drawing your handwritten Best Worst Sex Story).  If you can’t attend, email us a picture of your text.

A new movie has been made referring to the book Feuchtgebiete (Vochtige Streken) (Wetlands), by Charlotte Roche.

A book cover with a real band aid on it and surely to be considered as Worst Sex Stories (your cauliflower will never be the same again). We will be very curious if the movie is interpreted well, since the book is written by a woman about a girl and the movie and scenario are made by adult men. Will they succeed in showing a female’s point of view? That is something we like to see.

Please come and share our excitement, Tuesday, april 8th at 21.00. Also, you can ask for free movie tickets at After the viewing, at a time to be announced, the collected stories and other images will be exhibited in the workshop space [] of the love academy, Nieuwe Vijzelstraat 2, Amsterdam. The stories will be presented anonymously. The winner can fetch the painting after the expo.

And remember, your support will benefit our cause: improvement of sexual education and love for all (young folks).