‘No’ is a complete sentence, sure. But if you get partway to shagging someone, saying ‘no’ can be genuinely difficult, especially if you want to give them an explanation for why you’ve changed your mind. I’m going to tell you about one of the most awkward ‘no’s I’ve ever said. It’s not the most awkward ‘no’, just one of them. It starts on the south bank of the Thames, around autumn 2020.

It’s hard for me to judge the tone of this piece, and editing it proved tricky. But just so you know up front: this story has a happy ending.

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I’m down at the moment, and sometimes when I’m down I like to wallow in romance. But it’s not romance like ‘we’re getting married’ or romance like ‘we’re gonna fuck’, it’s the romance that pulses through friendship – steady and unwavering and safe and comfortable – never needing to escalate because it’s already right where it should be. Come on holiday with me and my best mate.

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I love dick, it’s brilliant. Unfortunately, I don’t love it all the time on a 24/7 basis. As a sex blogger, my work is a constant background throb throughout my life: even when I’m not feeling horny, my Tweetdeck spits out pre-scheduled posts from ‘this time last year’ in which I wax lyrical about my love of blow jobs. About a year ago, I got frustrated with the fact that this painted a picture of me as constantly horny for cock, which men (understandably) responded to in the moment, without realising that at that specific point I was actually in the middle of extremely stressful work and probably not up for sexting at that moment in time. All this to say, I wrote a silly poem called ‘your dick can wait, I’m working.’ Don’t take it too seriously, especially if you and I are fucking.

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He’s at the toilet, pissing heavily into the bowl. I’m standing behind him with my arms wrapped round his waist, gripping him ever so gently so I don’t put him off or change the direction of the stream. Both of us are staring down at the task in hand. The fat head of his flaccid cock gripped between thumb and forefingers. When he pushes out the last few drops, he grunts a little at the back of his throat. The same way he sometimes grunts when he comes inside me. When he’s finished peeing, he turns his head towards me and whispers in my ear ‘what do you want?’

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Over the last few years, I’ve come to think of @JenetalTorture as something of a kink correspondent. She boldly fucks in a variety of different creative ways, and pops back in occasionally to report on such fascinating things as erotic hypnosis, bimbofication, pony play and lots more – usually with a healthy smattering of excellent puns amidst the hotness. My personal favourite of her posts so far is this incredibly creative use of smart tech to fulfil a surveillance kink – extremely cool and right up my nerdy little street. Today she’s here to share her horn for ageplay and ABDL (adult baby/diaper lover), a kink which sits further outside the mainstream than many of the others I publish here, to the point where when she pitched it to me it was with the line: “How much ABDL action do you think your readers will go for? Just, hypothetically?” Let’s find out shall we? Like many kinks, ABDL and ageplay aren’t for everyone, and I’m aware – as with some of my own more intense fantasies – that this piece requires careful framing so you understand that everyone involved is a consenting adult. Please do read the content note carefully before scrolling to Jen’s piece.

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