I tiptoe into the flat through the door she’s left unlocked, because I don’t want to wake her when I get in. On the pillow in the spare bedroom, she’s left a fresh towel and two chocolates, and seeing them makes my heart burst with love. I spy from the hallway that the light is on in her room, so I can’t resist asking: “psst – you up?” I could wait till tomorrow to talk to her, but I’m brimming with eagerness now. I can spill all the details over ham and cheese croissants at breakfast, but she is awake right now, so she says “yes! Come in! Report back! Did you get alllllll the spunk?”

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You’ve met today’s guest blogger before – Elena Bennet dropped by a few months ago with this gloriously horny post about the sex surge during menopause, bringing everyone a thrill of delight by sharing her sex Renaissance with us all. Today is your opportunity to repay that lovely favour, because she has an important question on which she’d like your advice. If you have too many sex toys and it starts getting tricky to hide them from prying eyes, how the hell do you store them? Take it away Elena – everyone else, do chip in with your tips below.

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Oh hey team, sorry to bother you. Quick question. Won’t take long. Just wanna sense-check something based on my own patterns of behaviour and whether or not they could be considered ‘normal’. Tell me: when should I stop masturbating over my ex?

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For some reason, when you become intimate with people, they often feel like they have a right to say critical things about the way you look. Men have often felt this way about my body over the years: making comments about my weight, the various places in which hair grows and whether I remove it, the way I dress or carry myself, my use (or rejection) of make up. As if our intimacy constitutes a contract which grants them the right to correct me. Or perhaps, more kindly, like they believe I will welcome the opportunity for self-improvement that they’ve so thoughtfully opened up. Please, for the love of infinite fuck, understand this: I will never welcome these comments. You should never say these things. Your negative comment on my body is never welcome. My body is my body. If you don’t like it, don’t fuck it: that’s the deal.  

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A reader got in touch recently to ask if I’d written about subdrop before, and frankly I could always do with more of this because I love the excuse to pick up new topics. On this topic, though, I don’t have much experience: I’m out of practice with kink play, and I think even when I used to do it regularly I wasn’t hugely affected by subdrop. Luckily for me, @ht_honey – whose fabulous blog can be fond here at Happy Come Lucky – was kind enough to share her experience of what subdrop is, as well as some fun and playful strategies on how to tackle it when it rears its head after a play scene.

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