Movie Review : Room in Rome (2010)

Julio Medem's Room in Rome isn't a comedy, but I thought I would talk about it because it is a film steeped in the playful eroticism that I try to highlight here. It is the tale of a Spanish lesbian who, one night in Rome,  picks up a Russian girl who has never been with a woman before. At first the girl is nervous and after some foreplay in the lesbian's hotel room, she gets cold feet and sneaks away while the other girl is sleeping. But she has forgotten her mobile phone. She returns to the hotel room and knocks on the door. The other girl answers the door naked just as a waiter comes to deliver food to the room next door. She doesn't cover herself up but tells the waiter they may want some food later. And so begins a night of games, fantasies, laughter, love-making and the baring of souls as well as bodies.

Medem has created a film of rare beauty, intoxicating romanticism and scorching eroticism. The girls spend almost the entire film nude, the camera slowly panning over their warmly lit skin and lingering in loving close-up on the passion-lit faces. To a soundtrack of lush pop music and opera and amidst the classical paintings that cover the walls and comment on the action, the girls engage in games of fabricated identity, only gradually pealing off the layers of fantasy to reveal the often tragic secrets that have made them who they are.

It is perhaps ironic that a film about a relationship between two women should be one that drew me into its story more deeply than any romantic film I can remember, and yet I could identify with both and fell in love with both. What makes the film so powerful is not the sex, erotic as that is, but the by turns playful and compassionate interactions between the women. This is an open spontaneous encounter between two people which necessarily changes them, and it is one which captures the rich joy of life.

The film has the classical beauty of a film by Bertolucci or Visconti, but unlike their best films, which tend to look at the darker side of life, Room in Rome is ultimately, in spite of some powerful moments of angst, a feel-good movie.

The only previous Medem film I've seen was Sex and Lucia (2001) which is another favourite which also featured a supporting role by Elena Anaya, who plays the lesbian in this film. I look forward to catching up with more of the work of this talented Spanish filmmaker.

Big Women with Big Appetites

Big Lusty Women of Comic Cinema

There is a tradition in theatre and the cinema of the fat comic actor or actress. Extreme contrasts are often funny, so pairing a skinny person with a fat person - a la Laurel and Hardy - is a common practise. But also  humour often comes when our preconceptions are undermined. And sexually many of us expect that only relatively thin people will be attractive to the opposite sex, and also that those who are not thin realise their unattractiveness and will not aggressively pursue the opposite sex. Thus a man who falls desperately in love with a fat women can be the butt of a joke as can a fat woman who uninhibitedly pursues men.

But ironically, some of the women who performed in these kinds of comedy, challenged the validity of such preconceptions in their personal lives. In some cases they have been spectacularly lusty and lusted after. Two examples are Jean Hill (from the John Waters movies - Desperate Living, Polyester and A Dirty Shame) and Hattie Jacques (television and radio comedienne and star of the Carry On series of films).

The first time John Waters went to meet Jean Hill to see about casting her in Desperate Living, she opened the door and immediately grabbed his crotch. She's a very sexual woman who claims to have had sex with approximately 400 men in her life. And she was the lust object of many a male fan. Talking about her fan mail in an interview with Jack Stevenson (Desperate Visions : The Journal of Alternative Cinema - No. 1 - Camp America - John Waters / George & Mike Kuchar (1996) : "I had more offers to get this cunt ate than the law allows..." As well as giving hilarious performances in Waters movies, she was also a model in men's magazines and on greetings cards.

Hattie Jacques is best remembered sailing like a battleship down the corridors of a hospital as the intimidating but romantic and lusty matron of Carry On Nurse, Carry On Doctor, Carry On Again Doctor and Carry on Matron. Often the recipient of her passionate attentions was the weedy Kenneth Williams. But a recent biography and the tele-movie adapted from it have presented a portrait of the Hattie we didn't know.

And now we discover that the buxom Hattie Jacques - who famously played the overweight matron figure, with a glint in her eye - was lusty to the point of nymphomania off-screen. And what's more, her ample size served only to make her many suitors even keener.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1280269/Ooh-Carry-On-Hatties-bedroom.html#ixzz1CoxjZiqa

The main reason for this post though is to launch the first instalment of a new Anita story :

Anita the Collector

The name’s Bristol. Bertie Bristol. I’m a private dick.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “He just slipped that dick in there for a cheap laugh.” Well, if you’ve got a better place I can slip it in just let me know.

I’ve had some strange cases in my time, but the strangest of them all was the spate of disappearances of attractive young men on the tropical island of Bazooma. They all went missing in Strangways Valley, an area that soon became known as the Bazooma Triangle.

Really there wasn’t much of a mystery about who was responsible. Only one person lived in Stangways Valley. The real problem was to find out where they were, whether they could be rescued and whether or not a crime had been committed at all. On the last point, I’m still not sure. It depends on who you ask.

The solitary resident of Strangways was Anita Handwriting, heiress of the non-stick bubblegum fortune. Anita was an extremely large but handsome African American woman in her early fifties who was known around the island for her generosity and her warm and cheeky personality. Noone could really believe that any men who had ventured into her territory could have been harmed in anyway. But the mystery remained. Every man who had visited her mansion, for whatever reason, for the last six months had not returned. One man had gone to wash her windows, another to deliver registered mail. There had also been a personal trainer she’d hired, a documentary filmmaker wanting to make a movie about rich women and two Mormons. These were only the ones who could be confirmed as visitors to her mansion. Many other men had also disappeared on the island during that time, and naturally it was suspected that they had met the same fate, whatever that might be.

There was only one thing to do. I would have to pay a call on Ms. Handwriting myself. Strapping on a magnum, a Saturday Night special, a bullet proof vest, two throwing knives and a can of pepper spray, I set off. It was a short drive to the gates of her property, but a long walk up to her front door.

I pressed the buzzer on the large ornamental portal to her abode. Rather than a buzzing sound, I heard the sound of a loud gong reverberating within.

The door opened and there stood Anita, wrapped in a long silk dressing gown that was tied around her waist with a purple sash. I could tell from all the jiggling going on beneath the silk, that it was all she had on. This, combined with the directness with which she looked me in the eye and the warmth of her embracing smile caused my cock to swell uncomfortably in my tight jeans.

“How can I help you?” asked Anita.

“Ma’am, I’m here to get to the bottom of a mystery,” I declared.

“Oh, really?” Anita seemed surprised, but pleased. “I love mysteries...and bottoms.” She gave a naughty wink.

“Well...err...what it is...” I stumbled.

“Perhaps you should come inside and we can get more comfortable,” suggested Anita.

She led me into her large front room, which contained a couple of sofas, some large arm chairs, a home theatre system and a large fireplace. The walls were white, and decorated with old fashioned prints, and the carpet was a deep red. The room was brightly lit by the sun coming in through a large picture window on the right. There was another large window on the left. Beyond this room the house clearly spread out into two massive wings, but nothing of the rest of the house was visible from here, just a long wall with two doors in it.

“You might be more comfortable without your weapons,” Anita pointed out as we sat on one of the sofas.

“Yes, perhaps you’re right,” I agreed. This woman didn’t seem the violent type.

“There are lots of things I like to go off with a bang,” she stated, “but a gun is not one of them.”

I laid my magnum on the table, along with my Midnight Special. “What the hell,” I thought, and put down the knives and pepper spray as well.

“Oh, my! You must think I’m Jack the Ripper!” she exclaimed.

“You can never be too careful in my line of work,” I shrugged.

“And what line might that be?” she enquired.

“I’m a private di..detective,” I explained.

“A dick, hey,” she smiled. “I like dicks.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I said. “Not everyone likes us poking around in their private business.”

“Oh, there’s nothing better than a dick for poking around,” she purred, putting her hand on my knee. “I’m happy to expose my private business to you entirely.”

Now I was really sweating and flustered. “Now you’re flirting with me, Ms. Handwriting. I really must get down to business, but you’re making it very hard for me.”

“Oh, I can see that,” she said. “Here let me make you more comfortable.” With that she reached over and unzipped my fly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I just sat dazed, my head spinning, as she reached into my underpants and pulled my stiff cock out. She just left it there sticking up stiffly out of my pants and then went on chatting as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Now what was it that you wanted to question me about?”

By now I desperately wanted to fuck this woman, but I realised that this might be a ruse on her part, so I determined to continue with my line of enquiry.

“You may have heard that at least 35 men have disappeared on the island over the last 6 months,” I explained.

“Yes, I have heard people talking about it,” she admitted.

“Many of those men disappeared in the vicinity of your house,” I added.

“Now honey, do you really think that I’ve done some terrible thing to these men?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “but it is as if they had gone into a black hole.”

“You don’t mean my black hole, do you?” she chuckled, lifting one knee up onto the couch and letting her robe fall open to reveal the lips of her pussy, which hung open to display the pink flesh within. Curly black hairs decorated the area around, and creamy liquid dribbled from within onto the red silk beneath her enormous buttocks. “I’m a big lady, but I couldn’t fit 35 men in there.”

In that moment I stopped caring about what happened to the missing men.

“Maybe I better search you anyway,” I suggested, entering into Anita’s naughty game with a grin and a wink.

“I thought you’d never ask,” smiled Anita, standing up and dropping her robe to the carpet.

“Oh, my God!” I grunted. I just wanted to lose myself in her massive breasts, her big round belly...and, as I moved around behind her, her enormous ass. She was like a tidal wave of erotic flesh, and I wanted to drown in her.

“Let’s see this bod of yours,” she said, pulling down my jeans like someone excitedly opening a birthday present. “A bullet proof vest,” she added as she divested me of it. “I’m a lover not a fighter, dick boy!”

“My name’s Bertie,” I pointed out.

“Bertie, I like that. It’s cute,” she said. “Just like that cute tight ass of yours. I’m going to have to spank you later for being so cute. But for now let’s baste that boner of yours in pussy juice.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. Anita lay down on the sofa with her legs spread and I climbed aboard, shivering with horny ecstasy as my cock slid smoothly into her juicy warm hole. I was writhing happily feeling all of the front of my body embraced by her soft wobbly flesh. Fucking Anita was like fucking on a water bed only you didn’t need the water bed.

“Anita loves her new fuckboy,” she sighed as she looked me in the eyes. I moved in close and our lips met and opened, our tongues beginning a wet tango and she grabbed my ass with both hands forcing my cock as far as it could go into her slippery pussy. I could feel her juices dripping over my balls. Clearly this was no sudden whim on her part. She must have been seriously aroused when I knocked on the door. Perhaps I’d interrupted her in the middle of masturbating. Whatever the reason, it was my lucky day. I knew I had a mystery to solve, but noone can concentrate when they’re horny, so my first priority had to be getting off.

“Damn, you’re not bad at this!” exclaimed Anita. “You know how to pound a pussy like it ne-e-e-eeds to be pounded. I might have to hire you myself. You can probe my mysteries on a regular basis.”

“I could fornicate with you forever, you fat, fabulous, filthy fuck fiend!” I cried. Nothing brings on the alliteration like feeling the jissom building in my balls and knowing that my cock is about to be the spurting champagne bottle at a pussy party.

“Don’t hold back,” she panted as I continued to slap my sweaty torso against the jiggling mound of her belly. “Get the first cum out of the way, and then you can relax a bit on the second fuck.”

“Oh, God!” I cried as my hot seed shot deep into Anita’s hungry depths, my whole body quaking and spasming as if live with an electric charge.

“Now that’s the civilised way for two people to get to know each other,” smiled Anita.

“Well, I’m certainly glad I came,” I replied, resting my head the soft pillow of her left breast. “To the house, I mean, not...um...”

“You’re not glad you came in Neeta’s pussy?” she queried, raising her eyebrow like an interrogating head mistress.

“Well, that too...I mean, it was fantastic... How could it not...” I stuttered.

“Well, honey,” said Anita, “if you can’t wrap you mouth around your words, wrap it around my titty.”

I sucked contentedly on her proffered nipple while I planned my next move. Oh, who am I kidding. I didn’t have another move. I lost my spunk when I lost my spunk.

“I have a confession to make,” Anita purred, as she stroked the hair on my head. “Those missing men are here in my house, only there are 57 of them altogether.”

“What?” I said, jumping to my feet.

“But I haven’t done anything wrong you know,” she assured me. “They’re all here because they want to be here.”

“How do 57 men just suddenly decide they want to live in a rich lady’s house, leaving their families and not informing their work of where they have disappeared to?” I asked, incredulously.

“Well, I suppose I made them an offer that was too good to refuse,” she replied. “It is true that I took away all of their clothes, just so that they wouldn’t make a rash attempt to spoil the whole set up just because of some momentary twinge of guilt. But not one man has ever asked me to let him go.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I wanted to know. “I really like you, but I’m going to have to let people know where their family members and employees have disappeared to.”

“Here is what I propose...” Anita began. She had made no attempt to cover herself and was standing before me completely naked with her hands on her hips. “I’ll take you through that door, introduce you to the other guys and explain how we live here. If you decide not to stay, then we all give it up as one of those wonderful things which can’t go on forever.”

“I suppose that’s a fair arrangement,” I said, feeling dazed as I went to gather up my clothes.

“Oh, no!” said Anita, snatching them away. “Nobody wears any clothes behind the blue door. Except for me. I have to wear an apron when I cook. The only way I want to get fat on me is by eating,” she chuckled, nudging me. “I’m a good cook you know. But that is only one of the things that makes my guests think that they’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Anita slowly turned the brass knob and pulled open the blue door.

To be continued...

Good Sports, Etc.

A Quote

You could paint my nob tartan and call it Throb Roy.

Timothy Lea from Confessions from a Nudist Camp (1976)

This one was never made into a film unfortunately.

A Joke

A young man comes into a bar and orders 12 shots of whisky. He lines them up on the bar and begins throwing back one after another.

"Wow!" says the bartender.

"I just had my first blow job," the young man announces proudly.

"Well, no wonder you're celebrating," replies the bartender with a smile.

"It's not that," replies the youth. "I just want to get the taste out of my mouth."

French Maids

Everything is better with French maids, so following on from my last post, here is a lesson in on-line bartering from French Maid TV :

What Else I'm Reading

The title story of this collection by Kendall Swan tells the story of Serena, a teenager who uses the pretext of a slumber party with her mom in the next room as a cover for her friend Ashley to sneak off and have a hot time with her boyfriend. But when their plans go awry and they all end up in Serena's bedroom things really heat up for all three. This story is playful, raunchy and very, very erotic. I hope there's a sequel.

Naked Slumber Party by Kendall Swan at Smashwords.

Sexy Occupation - Maid or House Cleaner

The windows are only one part of the house that need cleaning. The next of our sexy occupations is the maid or cleaner who probes every intimate nook and cranny of the house. She (or he) gets up close and personal with the places we have sex, the places we have sat our naked bottoms and sees any clues about our sex lives we may have inadvertently left lying around - the vibrator, the porn stash or the crotchless panties. And a fetishistic male cleaner, if unscrupulous, might take unnatural advantage of a lady's panty draw. It is hard to imagine a maid doing the same with a gentleman's y-fronts, but even that may be known to happen.

The French maid, particularly, has been an erotic archetype since the 1800s. In a more hierarchical, class-oriented society, maids were very subservient and there was no hope of suing an employer for sexual harassment. The reality of this situation may not have always been very pleasant for the maids, but it does provide a scenario that is often highly erotic as a fantasy for both men and women. And maids (along with butlers) were always perfect characters for a sex farce, with wives always on the verge of catching their husbands pants down with the home help.

But recently house cleaning has become sexy in a new way with the invention of nude or near nude house cleaning services, both female and male. There is no need to go to a strip club in order to perve at a hot nude sex object. You can do it in your own home and avoid having to do your own dusting and vacuuming into the bargain.

Recently I read a very sexy ebook on this very topic. Kendall Swan's Naked Housecleaning is a deliciously playful romantic fantasy about a college girl who cleans for a handsome, wealthy and somewhat eccentric young gentleman. When he offers to pay her three times as much if she cleans in the nude she is not sure what to think - the idea arouses her, but she worries that this amounts to prostitution. Her qualms are soon swept aside however and she finds that cleaning nude for a sexy man unleashes a very naughty side to her personality.

I've always found the idea of casual female nudity a big turn-on. Nudists claim that nude living is not an especially erotic thing, but for me the sight of a woman doing everyday things - gardening, ironing, cleaning, cooking, working out, etc. totally naked is somehow very erotic, so the idea of a naked cleaning lady is definitely a very appealing fantasy.

But what about the idea of being a nude cleaner for a female clientele? Well, in reality I'm a slob who avoids cleaning when possible, and with my physique the only way I'd get to work nude is by offering a massive discount for the privilege. But let's leave reality behind. In an ideal world it might go something like this :

LUSTING WHILE DUSTING


I'd been working for Clobber-Free Cleaners for only two weeks when I met up with Dora. Most of the women I worked for just quietly watched me as I cleaned their house naked. Afterwards they might make me a cup of tea and we'd have a friendly chat. With Dora it was different, she took an evil glee in having a defenceless naked man at her mercy. I felt like a mouse being played with by a tiger cub.


I should have seen the warning signs on my first visit when I noticed an enormous purple vibrator sitting on the television in the lounge room looking for all the world like a decorative ornament. I lifted it gingerly to dust the top of the set. It felt a little sticky.


"Oh, how embarrassing!" cried Dora. "I forgot I left that there." She grabbed it out of my hand, standing uncomfortably close as she did so. "There was a George Clooney movie on the telly last night," she added with a wink.


There are no hard and fast rules about how we are to speak to the customers. The only rules are that there should be no physical contact more intimate than a handshake. Personally, I think it lends an air of class to come on a little posh, so I always refer to my clients as "madame".


"I don't think you should really be doing that, madame," I said, on my second visit, when Dora came up behind me and began to gently stroke my right thigh while fondling my left buttock and nibbling my left ear lobe.


"I don't think you really mind," she teased. "If you did you would tell me to stop. You wouldn't be all 'I don't think you should really be doing that'." She actually did quite a good impersonation of my manner, I have to give her that.


"I'm sure madame is just trying to be affectionate," I replied, "but my only interest is in upholding the reputation of Clobber-Free Cleaners by doing the most thorough job I can in removing dirt and grime from your domicile."


"I really don't think that that is your only interest," she responded, "or else your cock wouldn't be standing out all big and stiff and dripping precum all over my bedside stand."


"Oh, I am sorry ma'am," I spluttered, grabbing a Kleenex to wipe up the mess. I looked down at my stiff cock and muttered "Traitor!" under my breath.


"I like your cock," said Dora. "He's on my side."


Luckily I was nearly finished for the day, so I was able to escape before things could get really unethical.

From that time on I never knew what Dora might do next and the erotic tension was so strong that my cock would be erect before I even came through the door and stripped off and would stay that way the whole time. On the up side, it did give me somewhere to hang my dust cloth. But when Dora caught me doing the vacuuming with the skirting board attachment stuck over my dick for later use she yelled at me for not being fully nude.


Of course she would take the opportunity to parade around in all kinds of skimpy clothes, bending over front ways so I could see her cleavage and bending over the other way so I could see the ripe curve of her butt.


Then one day, just as I was coming out of the bathroom after cleaning it, she appeared in a skimpy towelling robe and pushed past me, accidentally on purpose brushing my cock with the back of her hand, and started to run a bath.


"Come in here, will you?" she called out a couple of minutes later.


When I entered the bathroom I saw that she was sitting naked in the tub covered in soap. She had a stern look on her face.


"You left a smudge on the mirror," she said, pointing at it. "Clean it off now."


As I ran a cloth over the mirror, I watched her reflection. She'd slid her right hand down between her legs and was clearly masturbating.


"You're watching me, aren't you?" she teased. "Well, I don't care what you think. It's my pussy and I'll wash it as fast as I like."


"It is my opinion," I said, turning towards her, "that madame is a dirty little slut."


"Well, you are under contract to clean everything in my flat," she smiled. "I have a dirty cunt that needs cleaning and it looks like you have just the perfect utensil to do the job."


She reached over the edge of the tub and grabbed my cock with her soapy hand and tried to pull me into the bath with her, but it slipped through her sudsy fingers. "Oh, bugger me," she cursed.


"Madame will have to make up her mind which service she wants first," I laughed.


In response, Dora stood up and pulled her creamy wet bum cheeks apart to display the rosebud that lay between them. "Clean this with your tongue!" she giggled.


"Just don't tell the agency about this," I told her, as I stepped over the side of the tub and took her in my arms.


"Because you'd get fired?" she asked.


"No," I said, giving her playful smack on the ass. "Because all the guys will want to work for you."


The End

Sexy Occupation : Window Cleaner

Back in the 70s, when I was just a lad, there were a series of books and films that related the clumsy sexual adventures of a British working class everyman by the name of Timothy Lea. The first book was The Confessions of a Window Cleaner. Although Timothy Lea was listed as the author, it was actually written by Christopher Wood (who would later go on to write the scripts for two James Bond films - The Spy Who  Loved Me and Moonraker).

There where 19 Timothy Lea books and 4 films. In most of the books Timmy followed a particular profession. By turns he was a window cleaner, a driving instructor, a travelling salesman, a long distance lorry driver, a film extra, etc. Wood also wrote a similar series about Rosie Dixon, who was a night nurse, gym instructor, tour guide, babysitter, etc.

Recently I've been reading a lot of the Timothy Lea books, which are very funny, if rather politically incorrect by modern standards, filled as they are with rampant sexism and tasteless racial humour. What is most fun about them, though, is the slang - as Timmy's adventures lead to lots of encounters between his "spam ram" and his horny female customer's "spasm chasms". Here is a sample from Confessions of a Plumber's Assistant (1975) :

"As our lips stack, my right hand drops into her lap and starts to interfere with her under-clothing. Nothing to get you pulled up in front of the beak for finger smuggling but a soft, rhythmic carress ruckling her panties and rippling over her short and curlies. She starts to say something else but I kiss her silent and quickly slip my hand inside the blue lace. Percy is quivering like a tuning fork activated by a steam hammer and as I send a couple of cuticled hombres riding into love gulch Mrs Richmond presses back against her chair and shoots out her parted legs."

This gave me the idea of doing a series of posts on the humorously erotic possibilities of various occupations. Over the years I've written a number of stories which do this - Nicki the Naughty Nurse, Inappropriate Behaviour (about a psychiatrist), School Daze with Maria (about a teacher) and What Do You Want for Christmas? (about a store Santa who moonlights as a stripper). So I'll highlight all those occupations and more. But I thought I'd start with Timmy Lea's first occupation - window cleaner.

Cleaning windows isn't a glamorous occupation, but it allows for plenty of erotic possibilities. The voyeur never knows what intimate delights may reveal themselves on the other side of the glass. A window washer who serves private clients may meet up with the archetypal frustrated house wife. And a fit window cleaner in a wet transparent singlet can easily be a lust object for the ladies.

All of these possibilities were covered in the movie of Confessions of a Window Cleaner (1974), which was directed by veteran Val Guest (The Quatermass Xperiment (1955)). Guest and Wood collaborated on the script. Timmy (Robin Askwith) is working for his shifty brother-in-law Sid (Anthony Booth) in the window-washing business. He sees some exciting sights through the windows he is washing - a girl lounging nude, randy schoolgirls in the shower, a pair of window dressers getting frisky, etc. But Timmy is inexperienced sexually, so Sid decides to help him out by introducing him to a friendly stripper. They make out in the dressing room, but, as will be the trend, things don't go as they are supposed to. Later Timmy will have a very soapy encounter with a nymphomaniac, get caught doing nearly nude yoga with a client's au pair, have to hide naked under a tiger skin rug and will help a weepy girl to make her lover jealous by jumping into bed with her. One of his more interesting encounters occurs when he returns to the home of the woman who caught him with her au pair. She is a middle aged clean freak, but when she gets him to change a light bulb in the coal cellar and he falls into the coal heap, accidentally ripping her dress off as he does, she gets turned on by how dirty he is and insists that, in order to keep from getting her house dirty he must strip naked and let her give him a bath. Poor Timmy runs for his life, but personally I would have played along. Timmy also falls in love, with Elizabeth, a young policewoman played by sex goddess, Linda Hayden (The Blood on Satan's Claw (1971)), who would return in Confessions from a Holiday Camp (1977) playing a different character. Timmy's family are horrified that he is going out with an officer of the law, especially as his dad's chief hobby is stealing things from the lost property office where he works. The story leads up to Timmy's wedding to Elizabeth, but it is no spoiler to say that it all goes awry.

Robin Askwith as Timothy Lea.

Linda Hayden as Elizabeth.

Trivia : Confessions of a Window Cleaner was the highest grossing British film of 1974. Anthony Booth is the father of Cherie Blair, wife of ex-British Prime Minister Tony Blair.

An Erotic Story about Window Cleaners

The Window Cleaner by Gaia Lorraine

A very hot tale of exhibitionism, voyeurism and masturbation.

Let me know what you think are the sexiest occupations for men and for women.