Whithered

I don’t remember which writer — I think it was P.J. O’Rourke — who once described the acronym MEGO (My Eyes Glaze Over) when applied to an article such as “Whither Gambia?”, i.e. implying that such a topic would be of little interest to anyone, and would bore one to tears in the reading.

Well, that may have been true with the old Gambia;  but nowadays an article on The Gambia [sic]  is likely to be anything but boring:

FORGET innocent piña coladas by the pool and cheeky glances at topless barmen – now sun-seeking, sex-loving Brit grans are boarding planes in search of far more risky adventures.

Wealthy older women are jetting off this summer for one reason only: to romp with men decades younger – and substantially poorer – than themselves. And this week the beaches are set to be more rampant than ever.

Promiscuous pensioners are heading in their droves to The Gambia, the west African country where exotic food is far from the spiciest thing on the menu.

Despite a plea made by The Gambia Tourist Board asking elderly Brits to go elsewhere to look for young lovers, the problem has only got worse.

I should warn Readers that some of the pics in the article are… overflowing.

“Grab-A-Granny” tourism… ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ “What a wonderfuuuul world” ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ [/Satchmo]

European Destination

For those who want to visit Euroland and couldn’t be bothered with the AFC/AFM (another fucking church, another fucking monument) kind of experience, there’s always another kind of fucking, at Cap d’Agde in southern France:

In this hedonistic playground, anything goes.  Hundreds of thousands of swingers descend on the resort each summer looking to fulfill their wildest fantasies.  But despite all the exhibitionism, it’s a closed, secretive world. As a rule, visitors to Cap d’Agde follow the motto: what goes on tour, stays on tour.  Most visitors have been part of the swinging scene for a while and have received an “invitation” to join the fun.

“We found so many normal people do it. It’s like a secret life. It opened our minds to a different world. Even so, I didn’t participate the first two or three times. I just watched others having sex. By the time I did get involved, I’d made some connections with people, so I was more relaxed.

“My first experience was a soft swap. My first full swap was the next time we went to a club. A soft swap might mean switching partners, but not having full sex. It might involve kissing, or foreplay. A full swap is having sex with them. It’s like experimenting, but with other people. It opens you up to a new world of different experiences.”

…and a new world of interesting diseases, no doubt.  Here it is:

So be my guest…

Read more

TV Spectacle

Then there’s this Brit TV show, reading about which had the instant effect of turning me into a full-scale Victorian scold:

Open House: The Great Sex Experiment premiered in 2022 and over the past three years there have been three seasons of couples exploring involving other people in their sex lives, with the third hitting screens last month.

Swingers from the Channel 4 show have revealed what it’s really like off camera and lifted the lid on three-hour orgies.

Three fucking hours? [sic]  I am so glad I’m too old for all this stuff anymore.  But it gets worse.

‘The camera focused on me with Mark, but there wasn’t one thing on the bed that wasn’t happening. There was girl-on-girl, strap-ons, all sorts. The house has a selection of sex toys too,’ she said, adding that they have no idea what will make it to air beforehand.

Off camera, during non-filming days, the saucy sessions can continue between the residents, but not involving the guest couples.

Lily also admitted she had ‘lost count’ of the amount of orgies that took place away from the cameras.

So that’s on broadcast TV.  Nothing like taking away the romance of the thing, is there?

But post something on FecesBook that calls Muslim terrorists a bunch of murderous child-molesters, and the Brit fuzz will be at your door in minutes.

Bloody hell:  I played in a rock band in the 1970s, and I can still be shocked by this kind of thing?

Totally fucked up, in every sense of the word.

Inside Information

Here’s one for my long-suffering Lady Readers:  it turns out that engaging in a simple fitness exercise can provide you with a Big Moment.

The tingly, burning sensation traveled from the bottom of my feet up the back of my taut calves, through my thighs, into my pelvis, up my spine, on towards the crown of my head. Then as I raised myself back up onto my toes, it traveled back down my body again. My calves burned but so did other parts of my body – parts that shouldn’t be at 9.15am on a Tuesday, as I stood in my gym kit trying to increase my core strength as I trained for a half marathon. It was pain, but it was also, unmistakably, pleasure.

It was – and I apologize if you’re eating your breakfast as you read this – an orgasm.

I mean, think about it:  you can get a Big O without all that hassle of involving a partner, or touching yourself inappropriately under the desk, or messing up the bed (if you’re doing it properly, that is).

And you can even get it while doing something healthy:  a two-fer, to use retail-speak.

No need to thank me, ladies;  it’s all part of the service.


And for the rest of you:  it seems like this is a girls-only phenomenon, sorry.  You’ll just have to do what you normally do to get yours.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.

When Gammy Cuts Loose

Here’s a heartwarming story for y’all:

A grandmother who is using dating apps at the age of 70 said she looks and feels decades younger – and is having the best sex of her life.

Well, fine;  and good for her.  If you rediscover the fire at whatever the age, then go for it.

My simple question:  Why do does she have to tell us all about it in the flipping newspaper?  

Of all the things we’ve lost in recent times, I think the loss of personal modesty is one of the worst.  Personally, I blame the Baby Boomers for starting it all — and at age 70 (my age), our proud shagger above is a perfect example.

Spread your wrinkled legs all you want, dearie.  Just don’t feel you have to share your story with the world.

NOW They Tell Us

From some doctor bloke:

The term of DGS seems to have been around since at least the early Noughties, referring to men holding their penises too hard while they have a wank.

The rule of thumb — don’t ask me how I know this — is that if your grip is strong enough to strangle your partner to death, you need to back off a little.

No need to thank me, it’s all part of the service etc. etc.  Anyway:

I’m not helping, am I?