Sorry to break it to you, gang, but it’s nearly Valentine’s Day. To those of you smug wankers with ideas and gifts and confidence that your love will enjoy what you’ve already planned, I say ‘piss off.’ This post is for people who only just realised that it’s nearly Valentine’s Day and feeling worried because they might be expected to do/buy something but have absolutely no ideas at all.

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I don’t sleep in our bedroom any more, I decamped to the spare room months ago. There are too many ghosts in our bedroom now, I do not like being in it. The room in which my ex-boyfriend used to work (and play, and sleep, and live) has long since been closed off: I use the space for drying laundry, but the door to it is firmly shut unless I’m hanging socks. This house is riddled with shadow-versions of him, and most of them congregate in there.

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I am fuckdrunk yet again. My legs are limp and my muscles weak and my throat is parched and all I can feel is the throbbing satisfaction in my cunt. For a split second I wonder if I’m making poor decisions, then I realise that fuckdrunk me could not possibly care less. Thinking straight is not as fun as being high on dick.

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Sometimes orgasms are elusive, and other times they’re addictive. But what if you don’t know whether you’ve had one or not? Today’s guest blogger, Ilex, is here to share a story about discovering orgasms long after you’ve discovered sex, and how learning to orgasm later in life has affected her outlook on sex. Oh, and share an intensely hot threesome fantasy at the same time… enjoy!

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There’s usually a moment during a fuck where I can sense a change in pace from the dude who is fucking me: a slight increase in speed, or a pause, that can mean he’s on the verge of coming. At this point, what I really want to do is start begging for cum. Tell him ‘please god yes fucking squirt your cum inside me.’ But it’s a pretty risky strategy.

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