hot action

I love this. We're on the eve of February, the horniest month and my favourite time of year. Things are popping and sizzling all over the place.

Voting for the sexblog awards wraps up tonight at midnight, Eastern Standard Time. In case I forgot to mention it... I've been nominated in three categories. Click the graphic below to go cast your vote.

I tried to get people to nominate Al Goldstein's blog for "Best Sex Blog" but apparently he didn't make the cut, which is a shame. Nothing else can touch it. The competition so far has been pretty tame with the exception of someone's husband threatening to clean this other dude's clock. I enjoyed that. Internet drama makes the world go round.

In the middle of the drama someone used the phrase "crimes against erotica." I like that so I'm stealing it.

I've decided to throw my last-second campaign muscle into the "Sexiest Sexblogger" category. I'm up against four lovely ladies which pretty much makes me the underdog. Lazy Geisha and sexandtheivy are both pretty cute. Ilyana Lanai, well she does have good taste in stock photography but I wouldn't have minded seeing something a little more candid. Were I not in the running I would give this category to Violet Blue. I met Violet last summer in San Francisco. She looked exactly like she does on the Internet. Violet's pretty rad and she likes to blow things up with robots in her spare time, how cool is that?

Nonetheless, you're going to vote for me for one simple, obvious reason. You can't stop staring at my breasts. They may not be the biggest melons around but they are all-natural, firm and perky.

And according to my new favourite saying: the sweetest meat is closest to the bone.

But I'm not too worried about winning awards. All I really want to win is the adoration of every woman and the envy of every man in Atlantic Canada. Is that too much to ask? Yes, all I want is to be loved for who I really am... which is way I've decided to share the following video.

I was originally going to post it on Swordfight but I've decided to stick it here instead. I've been putting up all those gorgeous shots of myself and to be honest, there's only so much glamour this punk rocker can take. So here's some raw, honest footage taken in the least sexy place I can think of: the dingy, dirty basement of my house.

frozenpipe.mov [7MB QuickTime]

I was awakened in the middle of the night on Monday by the sound of water spilling up over the edge of the toilet. Turns out there was a big chunk of ice blocking the pipe, messing up my flow. So I had to do some impromptu plumbing... had to go ream out that dirty pipe. Anyway. See if this video is smarmy enough for you.

Posted by philip at 04:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Always the bare midriff. Even in weather like this, you'll find a way to rock that bare stripe of skin.

Even sexier than your stomach is the way you respond when I place the palm of my hand on it. I see it, and I feel it. A bolt of lust that starts at the tip of your nipples and wriggles all the way down your legs.

Rock back and forth as you speak. Lean in to talk over the music. Thighs slide together and apart. Our secret is the tip of your tongue against my earlobe. Your lips. Lubricating. I hear the smile in your voice, you're always up for a good time.

I slide the tip of my pinky finger beneath your belt. I have a suggestion: let's get me out of this pant-leg. A pressing need, up and into you. Let's get you out of these wet clothes.

I follow your glance across the room. Worried about your friends. Forget about them. They'll be fine. Anyway, they knew it was all over as soon as we started talking.

I've got twelve hours left in this town and I've already wasted enough of them in this place. Go find your hat and gloves and that long, black coat you walked through the door in.

Let's get out of here and never come back.

Posted by philip at 11:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Arts and crafts, Charlottetown, PEI. 3:30AM.

You know this is the cheesiest magnetic poetry ever when it has the words "i seen" on a single magnet. But we did this up in our own style.

I love how you're all about the hot n00dz.

Posted by philip at 11:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's the fifth anniversary of hotaction dot ca. Come out and celebrate tonight, Thursday, Jan. 25, at Baba's Lounge in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. I will be performing an A/V set along with The Kettle Black from Vancouver, BC.

It is a well-known fact that no Canadian man can refuse a make-out request on the anniversary of his sex blog. The catch is that said request must take place in front of everybody, while I'm on stage performing. And there may be video cameras rolling.

It is also unlikely that I will refuse a tequila shot on this night of nights.

I had the vague notion that I might make an entry that was some form of five-year retrospective. But that would involve reading through my own archives and I'm not gonna do that. I remember once upon a time I had the notion of scraping a book together out of this website. I'm over that idea. The arrow of time only points in one direction. Right now, it's pointing straight at you.

Here's a video clip from a previous visit to Charlottetown. This is another song I wrote for all of you lovers out there.

askyourwife.mov [13MB QuickTime]

A/V - "Ask Your Wife"

Her hands shake when she tries to pick up the phone.
"I know what it's like to be alone."
She stops into the bar on her way home from work.
"It's not his fault" that he wasn't present at the birth.

Enervated at the office from lack of sleep.
Her nipples callused from the company she keeps.
Typing letters, drinking coffee, talking on the phone.
I know what it's like to be alone.

The radio plays her special song, as she
thinks back to when their love was real.
The traffic slows down to a crawl.
She pounds her fist against the steering wheel.
It's gone.

Ask your wife about her double life.
--

download mp3s from http://myspace.com/avhotaction

Posted by philip at 02:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Here is something sharp for the senses. A video sent in by a reader...

I took the raw video and gave it the treatment and added a reading by my sexy robot friend, Vicki. The words are lyrics to an A/V song.

hotaction-undertheknife.mov [3MB QuickTime]

Unpublished entry, Aug. 1 2005
How am I going to get the rest of your clothes off if you're all tied up?

I guess I'll just have to cut them off.

Half-naked and bound with your hands up over your head. The handcuff chain rattles against the iron railing of the headboard. I need you to stop writhing around.

The sight of knives terrifies and excites you, it seems. Takes you straight to the point of orgasm even.

I kneel over you, armed with sharp steel in a predator pose. I don't understand this fetish of yours. But I don't feel the need to understand everything.

Now hold still for me.

A serrated edge separates thread from thread. Slowly splits your shirt at the seams.

Mmm, so warm and smooth, your skin. You thrust out a shoulder, hinting, guiding me to trace the tip of my knife along your collarbone. You're my prisoner and yet I can only follow where you lead. Where are you taking us?

Are you challenging me with those eyes? I could learn to like this. You don't dare look away, not even for a second. Yes, I am learning to like this.

Remember that movie Secretary, where the hero's role was to take the blade away. What if we turn that around.

What if the hero's role is to bring the blade?

With the flat of the knife I push your legs apart.

You cry out now, you moan so loud as I slide the side of the blade up along your thigh... full-on moans. Cock-moans.

It's not just the knife against your leg. I know that somehow I'm touching you somewhere deep inside you. Touching you in a hot dark place, a place that I will never see.

And that is the definition of fucking.

Posted by philip at 04:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I love this photo, twenty minutes later that car was wrapped around an aluminum pole.

MORAL: DON'T DISTRACT THE DRIVER

Posted by philip at 07:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

How many pictures of myself in drag to I have to post in order to be nominated for the "Sexiest Sexblogger" award?

Click here now:

Nominations end at midnight TONIGHT so there is some urgency involved here. If I do get nominated I promise to dig around in the memory card of my cellphone camera for more scandalous snapshots.

I am very much the underdog for this category because I am competing with many many sexbloggers who actually own boobs. But I do make a valiant attempt at cleavage.

Posted by philip at 06:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Winter carnival is a magical time...

Posted by philip at 02:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I never owned a cellphone and I was a little bit snooty about it. My opinion was, cellphones are for amateurs. Anyone can get laid at 3 in the morning if they own a cellphone.

Players shouldn't have to resort to that. Ideally, a true player gets all his arrangements worked out well in advance. Then you smile, relax and enjoy your evening.

However... we live in a fast-paced society. Social dynamics are fluid. Even the best-laid plans can go astray, even as fresh opportunities are constantly on the rise.

I recently won a brand-new Samsung A-920 mobile phone along with six months of free service from Aliant. I've been getting to know this little device and all the evil things it's capable of. Text messages, photos, video camera, mp3 player, ringtones (currently a MIDI file of "Breakin' The Law"), and it's even got a tiny version of the Internet built into it.

At first I got a little freaked out when I realized that anyone can reach me, anywhere. Considering I moved out to the middle of the woods to be a hermit, I now get to acquire the habit of ignoring my cellphone.

I was determined from the start not to be one of those rude cellphone people. NOODLE-NOODLE-NOO... the thing went off when I was out somewhere sitting with a table full of friends. I excused myself and got up and moved a little ways away and flipped open the phone. Only then did I say, "Hello." But there was no one there. I had just tried to answer a text message.

Text messaging, that's a whole new thing for me. I've always associated it with the UK for some reason... perhaps from reading The Girl's blog where there always seem to be naughty texts flying back and forth with lots of "arses" and "knickers."

I have a mental image where I'm visiting my parents and sitting down to a nice dinner, and my phone beeps and I take it out and look at it and it's a filthy scandalous text message that makes my eyeballs pop right out of my head. Then I close the phone and put it back in my pocket and continue with my meal.

"What was that, dear."

"Oh... just a reminder of something I have to do."

I have a good phone number. It so happens that on the very day I set up the phone, they opened up a new block of numbers for cellphone use in rural New Brunswick. So I got first pick of 1000 numbers. My phone number could be a taxi company.

That might be kind of appropriate. "Hello, it's Philip... cool, where are you?... OK, I'll pick you up in 10 minutes."

So far I've been pretty selective over who I've given the number to. But if you're reading this site, email me and I will tell you, as long as you are confident that you can surprise and delight me with your text messaging skills.

My favourite thing about the Samasung A-920 is being able to take pictures and shoot little movies. I've been missing out on the visuals ever since my videocamera got stolen last summer by the john of a cross-dressing Scandinavian hooker (don't ask). That really put a dent in the frequency of my blog postings as well.

But now I can take the cameraphone everywhere and I do mean everywhere. Anywhere that I'm likely to show up wearing pants, I've got this unit all set to vibrate in my pocket.

The video camera comes with a feature called a camera light, which is a small but bright spotlight that shines out the front of the phone. The camera light makes it possible to shoot videos in an otherwise completely dark room.

So now we can play a little game called "Night Prowler."

I let myself into your room. Starting at the foot of your bed, the camera light advances up the full length of your naked leg.

I see your body in the warm glow of the digital screen. I'm close, so close I could touch you if I wanted to. So close that your scent fills my head in the darkness.

Your eyes are closed. But you're not asleep. I can tell by the sound of your breathing, by the rise and fall of your breasts, and by your fingers as they slide down the front of your black panties... moving ever so softly in the beam of my light.

Posted by philip at 01:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)