Monday, 10 December 2018

How long would it take Voyager 2 to stop?

According to the Highway Code, stopping distances are as follows.

Thinking Distance (feet) Braking Distance (feet) Overall Stopping Distance Ratio
(Speed in MPH) (speed x ratio) (TD + BD)
10 5 15 0.5
20 20 40 1
30 45 75 1.5
40 80 120 2
50 125 175 2.5
60 180 240 3
70 245 315 3.5
80 320 400 4
90 405 495 4.5
100 500 600 5

These figures were arrived at through research carried out by the government in the 1930's. A car would be driven. A signal would be given and at that precise moment, a blob of paint was fired onto the road beneath the car. After a short interval, the driver would react, and start the process of stopping the car. As soon as the brake was pressed, another blob of paint was fired. Then finally, a third blob was fired at the point where the car finally stopped. Repeat at different speeds... It loosely fitted the pattern shown above, and was adopted as the accepted figures. Modern brakes, tyres and suspension, as well as such things as anti lock brakes mean that the braking distances are much shorter, but they've kept the original figures presumably so that it includes a safety margin. So when you hear the police say "It would have taken this vehicle the length of two football pitches to stop" they're using this formula. It's also velocity squared divided by 20 by the way.

Voyager two is travelling at around 34,000mph. This squared is 1,156,000,000. Divide that by 20 and you get 57,800,000. That's your braking distance in feet. Thinking distance, assuming the stopping would be carried out by a driver with normal capabilities would be a further 34,000 feet for a total overall stopping distance of 57,834,000 feet. That's 10,953 miles. I'm not sure what that is in football pitches.

This assumes a dry road, obviously. Braking distances can double in very wet conditions, and it can take up to ten times longer to stop when driving on ice.

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Tuesday, 4 December 2018

The Space Between Your Ears

Let's say you have a thing for...

Well, you have a thing for telegraph poles. For whatever reason, you find everything about them strangely beguiling. Their girth. Their phallic magnificence. Their rough texture. The smell of creosote. Hmmm...

Well you might be walking down a street some time, and glancing furtively at an approaching pole, perhaps fantasising about a parachuting session gone hilariously wrong, or whatever.

And nobody else in the whole damn world knows what you're thinking.

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Saturday, 1 December 2018

This blog may in future contain posts with a connection to paraphilia.

This blog is an account of my personal journey, sometimes directly, sometimes obliquely, and sex has somehow become a bigger part of it over the last few months.

This is not and will not be a porn blog. Any images I post will not be pornographic in any way without a very specific context, and what I am writing is not done as wank material. If you do in some way get some frisson from it, well that's ok too.


Friday, 23 November 2018

Let's talk about sex, bay-bee...

I'm not vanilla. Let's start with that. I'm lucky enough to be married to a very open minded person, who has her own kinks, and who is happy to explore and experiment.

Yet we got stuck in something of a rut. It all became unadventurous and samey. Neither of us had the confidence to do anything but what we knew worked, to our mutual dissatisfaction.

Over the last couple of months however, we've started to visit a local club that caters for both swingers and kinksters. It was at my instigation, but in most respects, she's got a lot more out of it than I have. I'm a shy person, and don't find it easy to get to know people, and since it's generally the guy that has to make the moves,  I have yet to "play" with anyone else in any big way.

Still, there was an event a few days ago that led to me attempting to hold a walnut between the cheeks of my arse, while several women did their best to make me drop it. They hit and tickled me mercilessly, and zapped my sensitive bits with electricity.

“Montana was naked, and so was Billy, of course. He had a tremendous wang, incidentally. You never know who'll get one.”
- Kurt Vonnegut, describing Billy Pilgrim.

Turns out, so do I. Who knew? I had nothing to compare it to until all this.

I'm also turning a chair into an item of dungeon furniture. It turns my face into the seat of a chair, so that it can be sat on, perhaps for several hours, with both sitter and sat-upon in comfort. That kind of self-objectification is a real turn on for me, as are female domination, oral-genital contact, and an underwear fetish. I've found that I don't mind a bit of pain when it's in a BDSM context. I've found that when she and I play at the club, other people like to watch us, because we don't take ourselves too seriously, and our banter is as entertaining as the sexual stuff. I've found that I'm pretty much un-selfconscious about being naked in a room full of other people.

I'm sure there is more I could write about this, but I have to be a bit careful, since this involves my Significant Other, and I don't want to give any details, and certainly not any photographs, without her consent.

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Sunday, 11 November 2018