Girl on the Net

Sometimes my sexy blogs end with an orgasm. Other times they don’t. Sometimes they are neatly rounded off with a Scrubs-voiceover-style conclusion, wrapping up the whole experience with a neat and quotable line about love or empathy or deep-throating or what have you. But other times I leave them hanging, like on a recent post about getting fucked by a machine which ended just as I started speculating on whether my partner’s dick could fit inside me while I rode it. Someone in the comments said they’d like to know what happened next, and seeing as this is a question I get asked a lot about the sexy blog posts, I thought I’d have a crack at answering it.

What happens at the end of a sexy post? Do we usually continue fucking? Did one or both of us orgasm? Or, as it is sometimes put by commenters: “you didn’t mention anything about the finish.” So for what it’s worth, if you’re reading any of the real life sex blog posts (i.e. the ones that are based on things which actually happened), here are all the things that could have happened after I stopped writing.

We continued fucking, but in a way that didn’t fit the sexy post

I’ve talked before about honesty, and how although you can expect me to be broadly truthful, you can’t really expect the whole truth if you also want to be entertained. The truth itself – as I wrote in my piece for this year’s Eroticon anthology (shameless plug) – isn’t usually neat or simple, and it rarely gives you a decent punchline. Blogging is the act of deciding which truths to tell, at what time, in order to get a particular reaction. Sometimes I want to emphasise how romantic a particular fuck was. Other times I want to conjure the guttural throb of lust I felt when someone talked dirty in a specific way, or used a particularly massive dildo on me. At other times – like in the fuck machine example – I want to tell part of a story but leave the door open for more sexy blogs later: some fucks you just really want to make a meal out of. That particular story was about me achieving my dream of finally getting to use a Sybian-style fuckmachine, so I didn’t want to blow my whole wad on one story.

Example: Mirror Wanking (after this hot interlude we messed around a little, cooked and ate dinner, then continued the fuck much later in the evening. The fuck wasn’t relevant to the main point of the blog post though, which is why you don’t really get an ‘ending’ here)

We continued fucking, but I’m not able to write about how

Sometimes my creative juices just stop flowing, and I’ll be a thousand words into a sexy post that conjures a certain type of hot atmosphere, but then find that the rest of the fuck simply doesn’t flow. Usually I’ll stick the post in draft to finish off later, but sometimes I just review it and think ‘hmm, yeah that actually might just do.’ I can post something that teases rather than exposes everything, and still works as a neat little erotic vignette, even if it doesn’t end with fireworks.

Example: the Rubber Hand Illusion of Fucking (which is also the post that prompted someone to say ‘you didn’t mention anything about the finish’)

Other times, I’m not able to write about things because they require other people’s consent. There are some things my partner prefers me not to write about, and others that previous partners have asked me not to mention. My current partner very rarely reads my blog before it gets published (and, if I’m honest, he very rarely reads it even when it’s live – I churn out quite a lot of shit and he’s not a big fan of reading), but I might occasionally run a post past him to ask if he’s happy with how I’ve presented something. Sometimes he says ‘no’, or more accurately he says ‘hmm yeah I guess’ and I sense that actually that’s a ‘no’ in nervous disguise, so I cut bits or tweak or end the story early to avoid making him feel uncomfortable.

Example: the Soho Sex Cinema (a very very old post, which I’m using for this example because the guy in it is anonymous and I don’t want you all speculating about what my current partner would like me to cut). A bit more happened in this story, but I didn’t have consent to tell you all of it.

We stopped fucking

That’s the most likely answer. When people say ‘I want to know what happened next!’ usually they’re fishing for a detailed description of an orgasm to round it all off. But sometimes orgasms don’t happen, or they happen but so quickly I can’t find any neat way to include them in the story. If I’ve come up with a neat conclusion to the main point I’m trying to make in a blog post, I don’t want to ruin it by adding two clumsy lines at the end which just read “then I came quite hard, and he pulled out and spaffed on my arse.”

When people ask ‘what happened next?’ or remind me that I still haven’t told them ‘the end’ of any sexy blog post, although I’m extremely flattered, I am also often baffled. It might make sense for you to ask me that question: you mostly see me through the lens of sexytime so it’s reasonable to assume that ‘what happened next’ will be just as wank-worthy as the stuff that came before. But it’s harder for me to grasp, because ninety percent of the things I associate myself with do not involve fucking at all.

What happened when the blog post ended? I probably wandered off to grab a drink, or have a smoke. We might have checked to see what was on TV or had a fight about which Dwayne Johnson film to watch next. Perhaps we lay side by side in bed doing detailed post-shag analysis of which moves each of us liked. Perhaps we high-fived. Perhaps one of us cried. Maybe neither of us really felt like we were ‘finished’, so the end of our fuck became the beginning of the next.

After the sexy blogs: the truth will disappoint you

While I’m flattered if you ask ‘what happened next?’ the answer is likely one I either can’t give (due to privacy), won’t give (because it would spoil the post), or am reluctant to give (because it’s so mundane that it might put you off reading in future). Moreover, I think I’d want to challenge the idea that all sexy blogs (or even ‘most’) should have a definitive end point. How do we know that any sex story is ‘finished’? Does it finish when one or both of us comes? If so which of us, and how? What if he comes first, then I run upstairs to have a wank while I reminisce – should that be included too, for completeness?

While we do often fuck in ways that seem to have discernible beginnings (“Fancy a fuck?”), middles (“Oh fuck that’s good”) and ends (“Oh fuck I’m gonna come”), some of my best stories come out of sessions where we start and stop over and over again, rolling up and down on waves and ideas that don’t always lend themselves to a neat or satisfying climax. I appreciate that’s annoying for many of you, but it means I manage to do by accident what a better writer might do on purpose: leave them wanting more.