tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18676748814220514582011-07-28T16:43:46.001+01:00The ups and downs of showing yourself off on a gay videochat site. All the excitement, the titillation and the shame of it. Along with other embarrassing episodes. <br> <br> Coming to you courtesy of Camerawhore. A single-handed production. <br> <br>Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comBlogger1491100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-88744708668783677002009-08-02T01:30:00.001+01:002009-08-02T01:32:53.906+01:00

All good things come to a head, as well as to an end, and this is both, in a way. Just as in sex, in real life you can’t keep some things up for ever. You’re probably going to hate me by the time you’ve finished this, but try not to. I really do like to be loved, and I really will be hurt if you do, wherever I am, just as you’ll have understood from reading this blog. But I’ll come clean, now.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-66747641254096415452009-07-17T08:21:00.002+01:002009-07-17T08:24:17.892+01:00

I’ve seen some weird things . . .and a few of them I’ve seen on webcam. I have this profile pic I use when I’m feeling randy, and it seems a few guys think it’s sexy. Good job, really, that’s the impression it was supposed to give, after all . . .The trouble is, sometimes, guys send me a videomail saying they like it. That’d be fine—I like compliments—but they will send a pic of themselves along

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-66691044996419498272009-07-12T19:59:00.000+01:002009-07-12T20:01:11.693+01:00

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-89889913339069648612009-07-12T17:55:00.005+01:002009-07-12T18:01:42.107+01:00

I think it’s about time I had a holiday in Amsterdam. Tell you why. There’s a naked disco once a month in London, and since I actually like wandering about nude, I thought I’d go a couple of weeks ago.Last time I went was a few months back, and, oh dear, it’s changed. Then, there were some girls around as well (it was never supposed to be just a gay male thing). Of course, there was the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-38482152128081465792009-06-25T22:53:00.001+01:002009-06-25T22:55:53.572+01:00

(I suddenly remembered I sort of promised a pic of those bright Nike shorts I don't think I dare wear in England . . .)

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-5200107621894732112009-06-20T16:36:00.000+01:002009-06-20T16:36:01.149+01:00

“Calvin Klein is under fire for a sexually explicit new billboard that's caught the eyes — and turned the stomachs — of many people who have seen it in New York. The blue-jeans giant has unveiled a jumbo ad that shows two young men and a young woman entwined in a semi-nude threesome, as another man undresses.”That’s how Fox described it. Not very accurately, but then, what do you expect?

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-47814635442192811652009-06-18T07:02:00.002+01:002009-06-18T07:09:58.658+01:00

If you bother to read this blog, you’ll know I wear glasses. I have mentioned it. I'm not shy.By-the-by, it’s funny in a way how many more people I see wearing them, even kids, and people don’t seem to ask why I don’t wear contacts instead any more. Nice to see glasses fashionable. Hope it lasts.The reason I don’t wear contacts, btw, is I’m so short sighted that if I put my glasses down anywhere

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-47483027661002764302009-06-16T21:47:00.001+01:002009-06-17T09:59:45.862+01:00

I’ve just come across something called ‘Bodymorph Disorder’. Amazing how disorderly psychiatrists are managing to make life, isn’t it?Apparently, it’s not liking the way you look. In this context it’s something some teenagers in the US need to be treated for. Very expensively, presumably.Now I’m not going to claim I’m supremely well-adjusted. I mean, I probably wouldn’t go camerawhoring if I was,

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-20928513701301572642009-06-14T21:42:00.002+01:002009-06-14T21:46:58.683+01:00

I mentioned once before that my gaydar is practically useless. It's happened again. there I was, walking along with GF, and she suddenly says, "That guy was really looking at you. He fancied you."Me: "What guy? Where?"GF: "The one who just walked past us."Me: "Eh? What guy walked . . .'Honestly, if I was an airbus, I'd crash.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-43528301560514049112009-06-09T10:29:00.003+01:002009-06-09T10:37:53.421+01:00

I’ve been scouting around for other writing blogs, and I’ve begun to wonder about some of them.  But before you start wondering about this one, let me explain something. Everything I write here is true. But (and it’s an important ‘but’) it’s not the whole truth. Camerawhore is not all of me. I  do have other interests, even (though some may doubt it!) more of a ‘life’. It’s just that I choose

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-65911852747518514672009-06-08T01:18:00.002+01:002009-06-08T01:27:47.304+01:00

My wrist hurts.No. Not because of that. Wash your mind out with soap. Now.It was because of a bus. I stayed a few days in Brussels on the way back from France. Now I know exactly how necessary those knobby (watch it!) yellow handrails on London buses are. The new buses in Brussels have smooth ones. And the damn things don’t ‘kneel’ like the London ones, either, so it can be a bit of a steep step

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-47013890594761123052009-06-07T01:04:00.003+01:002009-06-08T01:11:56.914+01:00

Yeah, I know. I kinda left without saying goodbye. (Done that before. Out of shame, too often.) Thing was, I was going to abandon blogging, ‘cos I reckoned I’d run out of inspiration, and, as you know if you’ve bothered to go back over some of this stuff, I can’t be doing with that ‘dear diary’ crap. Or telling you all about the latest angst. Like so many.Well, I might. Just a bit. As you’ll also

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-66746177156013133252009-01-16T10:07:00.002Z2009-01-16T10:16:39.400Z

I think the flat above mine must be a gay flat. I don’t mean that gays always rent it, they don’t, in fact most of the time I’ve been here, it’s been heterosexual couples.The thing is, they don’t last. Just before Christmas, the male half of the couple knocked on my door looking a bit tearful, and told me his girl had left him, he didn’t know where, but he was going because he couldn’t afford the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-33296137854041057042009-01-14T15:31:00.002Z2009-01-14T15:46:54.690Z

I don’t get Google at all. As most readers of this blog will have gathered by now (unless you’re blind, in which case you’d better stop that, hadn’t you?) ‘Blogger’ went on a censorship spree last year closing down gay picture blogs left right and centre.I did one, and that fell victim too, after what looked almost like a concerted campaign about pics of ‘underage’ boys . . . None of them were,

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-87832624795614276582009-01-12T08:34:00.003Z2009-01-12T08:46:05.113Z

I’m very concerned about obesity. Not mine, I currently weigh about 63 kilos (with my kit on, now I think about it, wonder what it is without anything on?) which given the amount of junk and beer I knock back all things considered isn’t really too much more than I did when I was young and fit and healthy and things. And skinny.Since I sprained my wrist, I haven’t been out much. It wasn’t so much

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-58969472329805159002009-01-09T22:19:00.002Z2009-01-09T22:36:30.094Z

Shit, basically. On top of nursing my sprained wrist (which happened on Christmas Day, btw) I've ben trying to deal with the effects of some new medication that was supposed to help the pain I get often.But it is getting me into a mess, and I don't mean the kind of scrapes I describe here every now and then. I was told initially, that the side effects 'cause drowsiness', and when I pushed a bit

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-76737687464060499572009-01-02T23:07:00.005Z2009-01-02T23:28:30.573Z

No, I'm sure it was quite innocent how it happened. Lifting a very heavy sack of potatoes with his right hand for his mum. Moving his brother's weights to vacuum the bedroom carpet. For example. One of those things teenagers so often do to help out around the house. See? Now do you believe me?(Actually I was a good boy. When I was little, my granny let me help polish the brass and the silver once

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-9919344213049873022009-01-01T21:35:00.004Z2009-01-01T21:52:06.878Z

I think I mentioned I’m an only whore, as it were. I mean I don’t have any brothers and sisters. I’ve been envious (but only a bit, only now and then) of boys who have. Most recently I worked a bit with a young guy (very nice body, what little I saw of it), slim and quite a looker. Liked one of his T-shirts. “A blow job is better then no job.” “Hmmm?” I thought. . .But he’s just got married. . .

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-9207360651844373152009-01-01T19:55:00.000Z2009-01-01T19:55:20.983Z

Might go quiet for a bit; had to walk home from the party last night. Wasn't far, but my wrist hurts again from gripping my crutch (yes, that's a 'u' ot an 'o'!) on the way back. Typing with just the left hand is a bore.(Did you say something about taxis? Believe me, you do not get a cab in London in the early hours of New Year's Day. That's assuming there are any that aren't ferrying rich kids

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-72673532260897925542009-01-01T19:50:00.003Z2009-01-01T19:54:45.436Z

Have a little pic. Saves me typing. (Yes, I know. My thumb and fingers are still a bit swollen.) Sexy bandage isn't it?You know, it just doesn't seem to work for me with my left hand? Can't think why.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-76693227105504318942009-01-01T19:03:00.001Z2009-01-01T19:03:00.909Z

If you log onto my webcam siteYou're in for a big surprise;The hairy bears are hugging the trees,The fat old geezers let 'em down to their knees,And where the hell am I going to findThe smooth slim boy that's gonna be mine,If I log onto my webcam siteWhen the bears are having their pic-nic.(To be sung to the tune of The Teddy Bears' Picnic of course.)And, oh no, I am not gonna give you the URL.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-83208203782555644172009-01-01T00:01:00.001Z2009-01-01T00:01:00.788Z

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-25737110158623394602008-12-31T01:29:00.008Z2008-12-31T02:16:16.901Z

You do come across some odd things on the internet, don’t you? Mind you, you come across some queer folk in real life too. I bumped into a boy once who spent ages pouring drinks down my throat and trying to persuade me to throw up in the loo for his girlfriend to watch.I didn’t fancy it much and she got a bit pissed off when it dawned I wasn’t showing signs of getting pissed enough to have to . .

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-69498956156957167452008-12-30T07:28:00.005Z2008-12-31T08:30:56.608Z

I’ve been joking about spraining my wrist, but I’ll come clean (like nearly as clean as I was when I did it, despite what you’re thinking) about how it happened. It’s scared me a bit.As you know, I’m lame and I can’t feel much in my left leg. Usually (years of practice!) I pretty well automatically put my right foot forward as it were, ’cos I know my left one won’t take my weight, even if it is

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-24911620322722728122008-12-30T04:48:00.004Z2008-12-30T05:09:25.006Z

I’m going to indulge in a bit of psychoanalysis. I’ve been Jung and easily Freudened, so I’m qualified.Actually, a guy I knew at uni—I’m not just a pretty body, you know, I’ve got a pretty little brain as well—was a psychologist. Weird. Manic depressive. Do you have to show some sort of syndrome when you apply? I’ve always wondered. He liked swimming nude at night . . .so did I. But I fancied his

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-75951648914029238102008-12-27T23:37:00.002Z2008-12-27T23:53:54.113Z

It's just dawned on me that Israel is taking advantage (yet again) of a spell of incapacity on the part of the US and is preparing to invade (and presumably effectively destroy) Gaza. More than 200 dead already, and 700 injured, with the blockade having already practically incapacitated the hospitals.Season of good will to all men, hey? I never thought I'd grow up to this shit. It's obvious the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-14318484937237125612008-12-26T18:29:00.005Z2008-12-26T19:19:41.845Z

. . .was when they (that's the upper class rich exploiting bastards) used to hand out the prezzies to the peasants . . . So here you are: a bit of something of a festive me to look at. Only I skipped a really rude one . . .Oh. Sorry, didn't meant to imply you're all peasants. Not at all. I'm sure you're all nice middle class boys, like me.(Hmm. Hope I'm not risking being deleted for one of those

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-73030988899560893312008-12-25T00:15:00.003Z2008-12-26T00:46:25.448Z

PS: Ho hum. I've done it again. Fell getting out of the bath this time, at least it wasn't all the way down the bloody stairs like earlier this year. I just missed hitting the bathroom door by millimetres, or I'd have knocked myself out . . .But I sprained my right wrist trying to break the fall. And I'm right-handed. I never realised how difficult it is to do things with just your left hand.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-74760847743481153862008-12-24T09:08:00.003Z2008-12-24T09:40:25.562Z

Weird. Thing is, I've not been a 'believer' since I was about twelve. So Christmas, as far as I'm concerned, is just a rather nice remnant of a good old winter pagan feast.Doesn't make me feel a bit less guilty though . . .Thing is, a few years ago I had a sudden thought. Since I don't believe in Christianity, it's ridiculous to send 'Christ-Mass' cards, isn't it? Hypocritical even. So I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-47493456345022899082008-12-19T02:29:00.002Z2008-12-19T02:33:13.134Z

By now, you’ll probably have got an inkling of the kind of boy I fancy and my loins ache at the sight of. Sometimes I can be hard from a standing—well, sitting—start inside about ten paces across the dance floor. But I’m not as promiscuous as you might think. Not that it’s not for want of trying sometimes. Now and then I just can’t help myself. Sometimes it’s because I’ve drunk too much, and I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-15385843166840977022008-12-03T01:38:00.002Z2008-12-03T02:13:36.298Z

Been a while, yeah, I know. Sorry. Had my little prick (injection into my spine I mean!) a fortnight ago nearly, and it seems to be working. But. . . (There's always a but. . .)Disaster struck. Twice, sort of. The Pain Clinic people said to try out some more drugs and quadrupled the dose of the hard stuff. Being suspicious, I asked about side effects. Dizziness for the first few days, they said.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-24508437973281716552008-11-09T04:44:00.000Z2008-11-09T04:47:05.628Z

So, cheering up a bit for the first time in ages, I thought I'd give you something a bit more fun to read than just me being mis.There are pick up lines and pick up lines that are about as subtle as a pickup truck on a ramraid. Nothing exclusively gay about that I suppose. I know a boy who claims a lot of successes with girls just by walking up to them and asking “Want to fuck?” He says it’s

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-35636286542821394902008-11-09T04:34:00.002Z2008-11-09T04:42:02.752Z

I've cheered up a bit with the prospect of not having to take as much dope as I've had to the last few months after I get the needle on the 19th. If it works, of course.I've been experimenting—that means with prescription stuff from my doctor!— for the last three months 'cos the pain has been really, really shitty, I've not been able to get around much because of it, and it hasn't been working

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-31398859824629471682008-11-07T09:01:00.002Z2008-11-07T09:37:13.645Z

Just a few centimetres above where my left hand is, I'm going to have an injection into my spine next week. It's to kill off some of the pain (I'm a bit crippled, because I damaged it a while back in an accident) which has been really shitty the last few weeks. (And god knows it can be a bit nasty at the best of times.) It's made me cry a lot.It's a bit risky (I mean, they're poking a long sharp

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-62796259900702431532008-10-20T21:19:00.004+01:002008-10-20T21:44:28.028+01:00

Just thought I'd tell you. Shan't be posting for a week or two. As you all know (or would if you've read this blog carefully) I'm crippled, and this sometimes causes unexpected problems.'Cos I can't walk too well, my GP tells me I've begun to use up too much body fat instead of muscle because (obviously) I can't get exercise the way most people my age can.I don't mind being sexily slim, but it

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-30174398967093040252008-10-07T13:21:00.001+01:002008-10-07T13:23:55.592+01:00

They call young gay boys "chickens" if you didn't know. Why? Ready to be plucked, maybe. (Say after me, faster and faster: " I'm not a pheasant plucker, I'm a pheasant plucker's son, and I'll go on plucking pheasants till the pheasant plucker comes." Now try it with unsuspecting and preferably shy and sexually naive friends.Where was I? Oh, yes, I've noticed that some of the young lads I've got

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-23062998018421130872008-10-03T00:57:00.001+01:002008-10-03T00:59:47.837+01:00

It wasn’t my school, unfortunately, but a friend told me of a boy who achieved a hell of a reputation when he was about 13, and kept it going until he left. Which wasn’t very long, really, for reasons that will become obvious shortly. Before I tell you how he achieved fame, or notoriety more like, I should modestly remind you that I’ve never had much difficulty either achieving or maintaining a

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-47316640554750948102008-09-30T01:30:00.002+01:002008-09-30T01:59:37.888+01:00

Look, if you don’t fancy reading me being really serious, skip this and come back later for a funny, OK?Some medical researchers in Britain are going to try to get some sort of objective idea of what a “near-death” experience is like . . . Well, I went through it once. It’s not that bad, actually.I won’t go into the whole business of how I got there, just that I acquired a rather rare infection

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-56619720926784917882008-09-28T06:34:00.003+01:002008-09-28T06:44:06.761+01:00

I know just how that boy on the right feels. . . It's guys like the one on the left who seem to a) want to see me naked when I'm camerawhoring (and far too often for my liking seem to come on to me in bars this year for some reason); and b) seem to assume that showing me that on cam is going to get me really excited. Oh, well.Can't remember where I found the pic, but I assume it's of a Greek

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-7640966858876982832008-09-24T10:27:00.002+01:002008-09-24T10:55:01.804+01:00

I’m only in it for the . . .Excitement. The fun if it. The guilty pleasure. And because I’m randy. Honest. I don’t camerawhore for money. Not that I won’t accept a little pourboire if you insist. I have a PayPal account. No cheques, no Western Union or dodgy currency from Kazakhstan or anywhere I’m never likely to go on holiday to. Pounds, Euros, Dollars, they’re OK.Mind you, I did think if doing

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-33978396150547742452008-09-21T02:26:00.002+01:002008-09-21T02:58:16.964+01:00

There are times when life for people like me is shit. I'm not just gay, but I'm crippled as well. You know by  now I have to use a crutch; and you know I came to hate a gay bar in London because everybody there ignored me once. Stupidly, being at a loose end, tonight I went back.Why not, I thought? After all, that was where I 0nce met a very sexy young black boy I went to bed with. You never know

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-56848428898080025292008-09-20T21:07:00.000+01:002008-09-20T21:13:54.924+01:00

Only someone who’s English through and through would say it with that ‘nose slightly turned up’ air of mild disapproval they’re so good at. “Well, you’re very tactile, aren’t you?”. It was, supposedly, my friend’s way of excusing my part in a pretty disastrous meal during which, it turned out, I was supposed to be getting off with one of the girls who’d been invited.He hadn’t happened to mention

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-6773215686512169892008-09-11T08:41:00.000+01:002008-09-11T08:42:24.109+01:00

I’m feeling a bit shy and a bit self-conscious, and I’m developing a tendency to hide in dimly lit corners when I go to one of those nude disco club places. It’s almost like being thirteen or fourteen again. It’s my bum. It’s not the size or shape, or anything. It’s the colour.As you may have gathered I’ve spent a few hours lying in the sun.You have to be quick, here, because typically, the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-14533640485621917552008-09-01T12:54:00.002+01:002008-09-01T13:00:32.510+01:00

When I was young and innocent and wanking over—I mean casually glancing at—some of the gay mags that got passed around, I thought “GSOH” in the contact ads meant “good standard of health.” By the way, if you think that means I’m old enough to be pre-internet, you could be wrong there.There had been a trifling little contretemps about some of the websites I’d forgotten to delete from the browser

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-64700661522203966212008-08-17T17:17:00.004+01:002008-08-17T17:31:32.584+01:00

I tell you, I'm going off this camera-whoring lark.  It was a bit of fun when it started, but I'm less and less keen on it now.If I really wanted to do things like stick a metre-long dildo up my bum, piss in a wineglass, and a few other things, I'd damn well do it on one of those webcam sites where people pay through the nose to watch it and the owners would pay me a pitiful ten per cent of the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-27865655915936428842008-08-10T16:34:00.001+01:002008-08-10T16:38:47.195+01:00

You can lead a camel to water, but can you make him swallow?I like blowjobs, as you may have guessed, but though I’ve developed quite a refined technique by now, I hope, I can’t deep throat. Actually, I’ve not come across it yet at all in reality, and I wouldn’t really believe it if it wasn’t for a friend of mine.What I’ve always wondered is how come you wouldn’t puke?You know those awful nights

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-57051158092276303862008-08-05T07:58:00.002+01:002008-08-05T08:12:26.092+01:00

not just for strawberries, but for lots of classical concerts at the Royal Albert Hall. (That's put you off me, hasn't it?) It's the Proms, there's a concert every night until September, so I'm a bit occupied with them, and I thought I'd better explain that's why I might forget to post every now and then. It's not that I've forgotten you.Nor have I forgotten a gorgeous boy from two seasons ago.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-14192189080200853322008-08-02T20:09:00.004+01:002008-08-03T17:08:43.613+01:00

The strawberry season is nearly over. I've just been guzzling another bowl of them, with lots of cream.  (I'm going to get fat!) The English ones have been great this year: really sweet and luscious. But those are finished now, alas. So that's it, really. for another year. (The ones from Spain and Holland—and now, even the US—why?—just don't taste as good.) How am I going to survive without real

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-37412893927280308502008-08-02T16:41:00.002+01:002008-08-02T16:43:46.289+01:00

. . .who likes to be hugged . . .

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-33559852895451300762008-08-02T16:23:00.002+01:002008-08-02T16:40:42.776+01:00

I mentioned a little while ago a str8 friend who hadn’t realised I was gay, or at least liked bedding boys . . .An odd thing happened last night. I’d gone round after a panic phone call to have a go at resurrecting his Mac laptop. He was suffering badly from email and internet withdrawal . . .Though in some ways, as you'll see, that might not have been such a bad thing to withdraw from.It took

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-85630947444029302332008-07-26T10:09:00.001+01:002008-07-26T10:11:32.204+01:00

Sometimes, I wish I’d never admitted to being bisexual. I keep having to explain. Like I had to to a very sexy boy I brought home after an incredibly erotic snogging session in a corner of the disco.We’d ended up at home a bit early, even though pretty well oiled, because although we’d hidden in a darker and darker corners as we got hotter and hotter, we got chucked out for ending up pretty much

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-44338300272483722632008-07-20T04:31:00.002+01:002008-07-20T04:39:02.055+01:00

Writing all this stuff for you—at least, I hope I’m not the only one reading it, but I’ve forgotten how I fiddled the visitor counter last time so I’m not sure how many people do bother any more—has made me realise it’s been ages since I had a good natter with a boy. At least one I was banking on getting into bed.I know I can’t expect much in that line along with the camsex, it isn’t really

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-18427296562840555542008-07-18T01:17:00.002+01:002008-07-18T01:25:28.016+01:00

It’s probably because of what I told you in the first part, that my school friends didn’t know for quite a while that I was gay. I’d ‘messed about’ with boys, but not with any of them. It was boys who went to the other school in town (we never mixed in term time) that I got into a bit of frottage and mutual masturbation with, because we all lived nearer each other and we swam together in the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-18274869774761516122008-07-15T10:15:00.003+01:002008-07-15T10:22:54.508+01:00

I have a terrible memory. I know a lot of people say that, and it’s usually an excuse for not doing something they don’t really want to do. I can never remember when the phone bill is due. GF always knows when I’ve forgotten to pay it again, because she has one of those phones that displays the number and spots that I’m calling her from my mobile instead . . . And then she uses up the money I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-53054753368433731202008-07-12T16:32:00.004+01:002008-07-12T16:35:07.239+01:00

Until I can think if something to write . . .

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-18758760020226313072008-07-10T13:12:00.002+01:002008-07-10T13:22:30.882+01:00

I’m not obviously gay on the outside, or when I’m outside, even, and str8 guys frequently confide in me. They must sense something, though, because it’s often about the odd sexual problem they’re having with their girls, and they obviously don’t expect a load of crude macho comments in response. So a workmate, who didn’t know about the inner gay me, asked me if I’d ever had a blowjob.If only he’

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-30655522490382608322008-07-06T05:20:00.002+01:002008-07-06T05:22:37.037+01:00

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-30523696375579451822008-07-05T23:24:00.002+01:002008-07-05T23:37:21.277+01:00

It’s the way some guys present themselves. Some obviously imagine they’re smiling winsomely into their webcam but end up just scowling instead. So their pics make them look as though they’re in the middle of serving thirty years for rape. Or they came out of prison yesterday.Don’t get me wrong, I don’t need much of an external stimulus, like a pretty face, to get a hard on and come on cam. I can

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-21403737813877810362008-07-01T08:09:00.003+01:002008-07-05T23:38:58.870+01:00

I’m kind of getting a bit mixed up here between my cyber-life and my real life. What the hell, I’ve got stories from both, and you should be able to tell which belongs where by now. Not that I haven’t always been a bit of a mixed-up boy anyway.You’ve probably worked that out too. Being bi is just the least of it. Gets you into twice the trouble, obviously, if you hadn’t realised. I think if I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-38103779695124034932008-06-28T10:42:00.002+01:002008-06-28T10:55:26.402+01:00

I wonder if I’m slow growing up. I did put on a bit of a spurt at the beginning. I’d hit puberty well before I was twelve, so I kind of mean that literally. I've told you a bit about that, and how getting erections before my schoolmates (literally, again, once or twice) actually rather stymied things like getting on with love and physical sex when I was in my early teens instead of giving me the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-79953489360834507192008-06-26T09:59:00.003+01:002008-06-26T10:04:44.266+01:00

The usernames people choose for themselves in this Videochat game can be quite illuminating as to their self-perception. One or two of course have either no shame or no friends, because they appear to use their real ones. Others display a range from of at best wishful thinking or, at worst, utter self-deceit.Don’t panic, anybody. In accordance with my promise opposite, I’m not going to actually

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-72172054326969620242008-06-19T09:46:00.006+01:002008-06-19T11:44:38.831+01:00

Eh? No, I’m not thinking of it actually. I had what I thought, for all of two minutes, was an idea for a little joke. Why not, I mused, put links from my blog to some of those ridiculous anti-gay sites, so they’d get all upset when they saw that lots of hits (I can hope, can’t I? I know nobody apart from me and a few people I badger into it really read this stuff) came from ‘Gay Camerawhore’.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-51811465307305838702008-06-17T08:37:00.004+01:002008-06-17T09:03:09.110+01:00

The size of the two halves of your brain, that is. If the two halves of your brain are equal size, you're gay, OK? That's what it says here. And you were born that way. If the right side is bigger, you're either lesbian or straight.'Dr Qazi Rahman, a lecturer in cognitive biology at Queen Mary, University of London, said that he believed that these brain differences were laid down early in foetal

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-69116684336637717292008-06-16T11:14:00.005+01:002008-06-16T12:05:21.557+01:00

I have to get a pair of those driver’s gloves; you know, the kind that don’t have fingers or proper backs, just sort of cover the palms of the hands? I’m not going rally driving, though. The sugar daddy who’s going to buy me that beautiful Bugatti I saw a few Sundays ago still hasn’t turned up.A friend ("GF" in this blog) is coming over from Brussels this week, and she wants to ‘do’ the art

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-36509977623348432192008-06-14T17:56:00.004+01:002008-06-14T18:23:53.368+01:00

There I was, just getting over my hangover from last night (I really shouldn't drink that awful fizzy lager they make here and call continental names) when I saw this:"I very much regret the remarks [he called Italians 'greasy wops'] and wish to apologise once again for the offence they may have caused. I have the utmost respect for Italy and Italian people but accept that my comments, no matter

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-27131516330334349702008-06-13T19:20:00.002+01:002008-06-13T19:37:10.321+01:00

Again. I was born on a thirteenth, and a lot of my birthdays seem to have fallen on Fridays the last few years somehow. And I was brought up in a house whose numbers added up to thirteen. Not that I'm superstitious. Oh dear me, no. The fact that I've stayed at home all day and I've been walking round the flat touching wood isn't superstition.But I'm going out tonight, and I am feeling a bit

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-86618819221574307332008-06-13T04:07:00.003+01:002008-06-13T04:34:55.033+01:00

I do like looking at a nice pert, rounded, shapely bum. If you’re going to show me yours, don’t show me one that’s as flat as an ironing board. I saw a boy like that at a naked disco I go to occasionally. Apart from that, he was quite attractive, but the sheer unshapeliness of his backside just put me off.I find it a bit limiting to write about though. I don’t really like the other words for it.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-45000193291507842502008-06-10T14:00:00.002+01:002008-06-10T14:05:02.774+01:00

Well, no, not really. It's just there was quite a bit a few days ago on the news about Britain's oldest man. He's 112, and apparently he attributes his longevity to "cigarettes, wine and wild women." I smoke . . .I like wine . . . Not had a lot of wild women though. Do you think wild boys would be a good substitute?  I think I'd better get out more. 

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-91301815255152067112008-06-09T16:25:00.000+01:002008-06-09T16:25:01.455+01:00

I couldn’t refuse. At least I think that's what it was supposed to be. A youngish black guy said something out of the corner of his mouth as he passed me Saturday afternoon. Around here I’m used to that. Though it’s usually a sotto voce invitation to buy, well, substances.This was a bit different. What he said was “T.G’s for a good fuck tonight.” Eh? Pardon? What was that again? Two things bother

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-34715625900341030352008-06-08T12:37:00.003+01:002008-06-10T01:40:07.169+01:00

Find more videos like this on watch itI don't usually post video, because it tends to slow things down, but I thought this was so touching. And I'm feeling a bit lonely again, and I'm tired of one-nighters, and I know I'm going to fall for the wrong boy and I just know how it's going to end, somehow. Not unlike this little film does. I should be used to it, by now, but I'm not.(That's why I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-28117483547671688682008-06-07T11:40:00.007+01:002008-06-07T19:26:16.116+01:00

. . .to being heterosexual, among many others. (Like being stuck with only one gender to have sex with.) Did you realise that 40 per cent of marriages in Britain end in divorce? That means that 60 per cent of marriages end in death. Over half. My god, I never grasped it was so dangerous. Thanks to 'I am Livid' blog for pointing this out. Not that I'm ever likely to get married. Just in case any

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-60999249044164446592008-06-05T09:31:00.004+01:002008-06-05T10:25:15.672+01:00

Posted as a comment to a photo spread of nude men in a magazine a blogger put up a little while ago:"Why do gay men feel they have the right to view models' cocks? Because that what it comes down to. Ford [the photographer] living out his fantasy wanting to see cocks in mainstream magazines. We don't see vaginas but still the female model will be classed as naked. These guys are naked and why

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-43946212126819925242008-06-04T09:33:00.010+01:002008-06-04T10:17:28.815+01:00

I just saw a blogger nicked a self-pic from a Canadian 18-year-old’s MySpace page. (A lot do, don’t they?) I read the comments. These are some of them:“Such a big head. That must be why it tips to the left, oh, and his skull is large also.”“He’s making a face (I'd call it a wry grin) he’s standing awkwardly and he’s scrawny."“He’s a self absorbed douche.”“Perhaps I can recommend an

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-35765239413220359152008-06-03T03:45:00.005+01:002008-06-03T04:22:39.567+01:00

You may have been wondering why I haven’t been writing much about gay cam sex lately. I’ve been laying off it for a while, as you might say. One reason is that I kept seeing the same old faces. Well, not faces, exactly. Face recognition software would be wasted as far as these cam-sex sites are concerned, and I don’t think they’ve developed penis-recognition software yet.Come to think of it, I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-18492445813659862852008-06-02T15:15:00.012+01:002008-06-03T04:44:45.248+01:00

This is not the Part 2 I had already written; if you want to know why, scroll down to the bottom. I'm afraid it's rather long.It all began, I suppose, with what might just be what you could call “the age of incipient sexual curiosity”, or when I was about 8. But before I go any further, since there are some prurient people out there all too willing and eager to get hold of the wrong end of the

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-81686399987887207392008-06-01T11:44:00.003+01:002008-06-01T12:02:30.849+01:00

(Part 1)I’ve never actually ‘come out’. I know some boys make a big deal of it, practically have a party to announce it; one of my friends agonised about whether to or not for ages. It seemed like years. I just kind of let it slip out, or let people guess if they want to. Although there were very good reasons I wouldn’t have told some of my family anyway, ever, and I don’t have any connection

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-86782932960774449772008-05-31T06:49:00.006+01:002008-05-31T09:09:48.056+01:00

That's the end of the world of course. As you know, these predictions fascinate me, ever since I found a thing called "Old Moore's Almanac", which has apparently been regularly predicting disasters that would wipe us all out since 1700.Now I had thought we were safe until after the London Olympics, the last dire warning was for 2012, but it seems I'm wrong. It's due this year and apparently we're

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-15214338200443636452008-05-29T07:39:00.002+01:002008-05-29T07:45:05.990+01:00

On the way to the bus stop last night I recognised a bum I’d seen before. Naked. He wasn’t a flasher or a streaker, in case that’s what you were thinking. It’s not the weather for that here. He was indoors.I take it not all my readers are Londoners, so maybe I’d better explain something. A lot of us, especially round my way, live in tall Victorian houses converted into flats. Apartments, if you

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-45834181041075735042008-05-26T05:21:00.008+01:002008-05-27T23:03:37.044+01:00

I came across this quiz site, through 'Put 'em all on an Island'.Apparently, if I were a movie, I'd be "a Drama. You're rich in feeling and emotion. . . You constantly feel like the world is your audience, which might inevitably affect your sanity!" (No, don't think so; it's you that's a bit odd by the look of you.) "While your passion is endearing, the over-dramatics may grow a bit too intense

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-5693847456228536162008-05-24T19:29:00.001+01:002008-05-24T19:34:26.509+01:00

Cigarette papers, that is. These packs are very informative. “Your mouth produces 1 litre of saliva a day” this one tells me.I've worked out that means if you kiss your boyfriend a lot on a hot day, you should be able to save at least a fiver on designer water between you.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-77746297658097751912008-05-24T05:03:00.002+01:002008-05-24T05:06:52.996+01:00

. . . about being happy now I'd got more than 10,000 readers. (More than 11,000 now.) It turns out 43,732 readers have completely missed this blog since it started, so I’m a bit upset now. That’s an awful lot, though admittedly nowhere near as many as missed my blogging mate's who told me how to find out. And I don’t know how to get them back. Help!(It's from Google Dynuretics, an experimental

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-53820588299541206032008-05-23T19:43:00.003+01:002008-05-23T19:50:38.726+01:00

Well, I went to bed with this guy. He knew I did a bit of design stuff from the pick-up chat. So when we’d screwed the first time, and we were having a fag (American English: cigarette) he asked if I could draw him a couple of ideas for a logo for a publicity thing he wanted to do.I was quite flattered, so I scribbled a couple, and he said he liked them, so I was even more flattered, so would I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-18974660888119155892008-05-22T01:35:00.005+01:002008-05-22T03:06:38.777+01:00

I nearly went to bed with an accountant once. I didn’t, though, because I thought he might add up the fucks and blowjobs through the night, do a bit of double-entry bookkeeping, and then give me a bill in the morning for the ones that fell a bit short, if you see what I mean.Actually that’s not true, though I swear to you I will never go to bed with an accountant, ever. You’ll see why. This boy

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-20416100861916209502008-05-21T20:42:00.002+01:002008-05-21T20:57:14.508+01:00

How did I know my watch had started glowing in the dark again?You should be able to work that out for yourselves. It was a night club? A darkish corner? With comfy sofas? And I didn’t want us to miss the night bus home and stand in the pissing rain for another twenty minutes. Obviously. Talk about dampened ardour, it’d have probably drowned.Why not take a cab home?Cab? You are joking? This is

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-12658784604128117862008-05-19T14:20:00.002+01:002008-05-19T14:42:26.917+01:00

There are people around, I've rather painfully discovered, who seem all too eager to misconstrue blogs like mine and bloggers like me and jump to wrong conclusions with amazing ease.I said I didn't really want to tell you yet why I cried over my Teddy Bear about 'dancing to my daddy' when I was a small boy, but I think I'd better.It wasn't that my dad had some perverted fetish about seeing me

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-84253683745355322322008-05-18T06:50:00.002+01:002008-05-18T07:29:58.623+01:00

An email reminded me I hadn't shown you any bits of me for a while, so I thought I'd let you see a rib or two.(I've been trying to count them, but I can't remember how many you're supposed to have. I'm sure I'm one short. I did break one once, and you wouldn't believe how painful just breathing very gently can be when you've done that, but it wouldn't have dissolved, would it? And if they

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-32035048308956600472008-05-17T20:24:00.011+01:002008-05-18T05:28:33.176+01:00

I hadn’t been to this nude disco place for quite a while, mostly because I’ve been on the other side of the Channel—OK, 'La Manche' if you must— a lot, and also because I smoke and the ‘smoker’s patch’ in the open air was so damn cold last time. As good at reducing an erection as a cold shower, I can tell you. So I thought I’d wait until it was a bit warmer.I don’t think I’ll go again, though.

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-77842381471750292982008-05-16T20:31:00.002+01:002008-05-16T20:42:06.225+01:00

Just as an aside, I've noticed one blog host keeps suggesting I might want to meet gay men in Slough above every blog title. Why would I? It's miles and miles away from where I live. I wouldn't have a clue how to get home.  All I know about it is they apparently call a certain public school near there "Slough Grammar".  Is that why they're so keen on me going there? Why don't they just say 'Eton'?

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-20359547552234610972008-05-16T01:15:00.002+01:002008-05-16T01:19:19.177+01:00

Once—only once, you’ll see why—I left my webcam on all night and stayed connected. Advertised it as “Naked boy sleepcam”. Yep, I sleep nude. Even when I’m on my own. Unless it’s really cold, or I’m running short of the cash for the heating bill.It was a bit of a joke, really. And that natural curiosity that so often gets me into trouble. I just wondered if anybody (any pervy guy, really, or maybe

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-4886984809957460592008-05-14T20:52:00.002+01:002008-05-14T20:56:10.016+01:00

If you hadn’t guessed already, I also do a picture blog. (And if you haven’t I’m not going to tell you what it’s called.) That one does rude pictures, though not very rude. Still, spades really are shovels, so let’s not pussy about: it’s gay porn. Well, so is this blog, really, just without the blatant illustrations.But it seems there are susceptibilities to be outraged even in that, which I

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-47884982025369689652008-05-11T08:06:00.004+01:002008-05-11T08:52:56.922+01:00

Well, I have been called that (I can claim modestly) when seen unclothed a few times. But I really am, and I'm very happy about it. It's the weather: in London it's sunny and hot and the temperature is up into the high twenties.* I love it. It must be the Italian half of me. I just feel stupid and dopey and low when it's anything cooler than 18 or 19 degrees.Strangely, GF, who was born in a

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-65452660559321906152008-05-11T05:33:00.003+01:002008-05-11T05:52:37.297+01:00

Judging by something I read somewhere in the blogosphere, I could be easily getting myself into a bit of bother. A different sort to the kind I habitually end up in and makes up a lot of these posts. It’s the words I use, you see. Not those words, not the ones that begin with F and A and C and W. Nobody’s had a go at me about them yet, though I suppose one day someone is bound to. It’s the ones

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-84005698049180114132008-05-10T19:37:00.003+01:002008-05-11T05:58:01.762+01:00

Only 12 hours later. I'm really pissed off.(Google's sanctimonious, mistaken, and unhelpful message is "Sorry... but your query looks similar to automated requests from a computer virus or spyware application. To protect our users, we can't process your request right now.We apologize for the inconvenience, and hope we'll see you again on Google.")Hah! I know where I'd like to see them after they

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-2318749272823523832008-05-10T09:08:00.000+01:002008-05-10T09:09:06.659+01:00

(Singing: "There's no discou-ra-a-a-gement shall m-a-a-ke him once relent. . . his first av-o-owed intent—to be a blo-gg-er.")

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-66669546311880498342008-05-10T05:53:00.002+01:002008-05-10T05:58:16.778+01:00

Google has, for the time being, blocked me from accessing my blogs.(On the grounds they detect spyware from my IP address. That's total crap, because I don't have a static IP address.)If there have been no new posts by the 15th of May, assume my connection with Blogger is over, and go off to my alternative 'Confessions' site. (Link right down at the bottom of this page.)(I had to borrow a

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-15408782016009318332008-05-08T03:08:00.009+01:002008-05-08T12:54:20.512+01:00

Sometimes, I wish I’d never admitted to being bisexual. I keep having to explain. Like I had to to a very sexy boy I brought home after an incredibly erotic snogging session in a corner of the disco.We’d ended up at home a bit early, even though pretty well oiled, because although we’d hidden in darker and darker corners as we got hotter and hotter, we got chucked out for ending up pretty much

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-69669228685489183802008-05-07T05:47:00.004+01:002008-05-08T12:18:53.871+01:00

I told you I was sexy but not promiscuous, and I bet you didn’t believe me, but thanks to Durex's annual sex survey, now I can prove both to you. I never knew they did one. Did you?Apparently, during their lives, the average heterosexual man has 13 female partners, while the average bisexual man (me!) has 14. I always reckoned I just had to be sexier than my male hetero friends, whatever they

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-38459551551451460892008-05-06T02:45:00.007+01:002008-05-06T16:18:01.489+01:00

Yesterday being a Bank Holiday Monday (which meant it was hellish tricky to find a cashpoint that actually had any money in it to be able to) I went off to a gay club. (Not a very cripple-friendly one.) Sadly, it was full of Str8's, since the drinks were only £1.50, it being a Monday.Thats why I went, of course. And, by the way, why will nobody vote in favour on my other blog for on-line

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-76807868102050586722008-05-04T14:45:00.002+01:002008-05-04T14:50:51.636+01:00

I’m not a crude boy. I’ve never really cared for scatological jokes, or even dirty talk. That puts me at a bit of a disadvantage in this video game. Some guys want it, even need it to being themselves off, but I kind of have to think for a bit before I can come up with anything suitable, apart from the thing they most want to look at, so it never really seems that spontaneous. And even though I’

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1867674881422051458.post-64824391337766154522008-05-02T15:27:00.002+01:002008-05-02T15:32:18.304+01:00

It must be what's in the tobacco . . .Have you ever passed a van in the street parked outside a shop, and thought how cheeky they are to advertise themselves as “Shoplifters”? Then walked back and seen it really read “Shopfitters”?Just glance at this, and tell me you don’t see “Condoms” the first time?Please? I don’t want to think it’s only me that has a dirty mind . . .

Camerawhorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990961998434047143noreply@blogger.com