I sometimes struggle with getting head – finding it hard to get out of my comfort zone when I don’t feel any element of my own submission. But when he tells me ‘I want to taste you,’ it is not submissive. He’s not begging me for a lick that I may or may not deign to give him: he’s issuing a command. In the same way as he’s issuing a command if he tells me ‘bend over’ or ‘take off your knickers’ or – holy fuck this happened recently and it still makes me so horny I squirm – ‘squeeze that cock.’ Uttered in a breathless rush just before the grunt as he comes.

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Allow me to answer the question on everyone’s lips: what on Earth is this for?

When I first had a look at a Doxy Skittle – at Eroticon this year – I asked the boss of Doxy. He said: “Well, what would you use it for?” to which I naturally replied:

“Butt stuff.”

For confirmation, I took a picture and emailed it to a bloke I like with the subject line: “Butt stuff?” and he confirmed: “Butt stuff.”

Last week I got hold of one, and it sat on my bedside table, occasionally whispering temptingly to me until it was all I could do to grab the nearest willing bloke and cover him in lube and enthusiasm. Then on Friday night I got to use it and… holy shit. That is definitely at least one of the things you can use it for.

Here comes the usual caveat about how I don’t do sex toy reviews. Other people do them way better than I could, which is why I run the Sex Fairies thing (to let other people try out toys), and why so far I’ve only really reviewed the Doxy massager (love of my life). I’m only writing about this Skittle thingy because I love the Doxy massager so much that I wanted to see if any other Doxy toy could work the same kind of magic. If you want to know the details of a toy: what it’s made from, how big it is, how it compares to others, all that jazz, then you need to go to an expert – Cara Sutra has a review up with more info, and she knows her stuff.

So yeah, if you want all the technical details, go there. If, on the other hand, you want to know how to grind out a sweaty, desperate orgasm by shoving something really hard into your ass, then here’s my two cents.

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There’s an amazing community of sex bloggers who write delicious smut, post gorgeous pictures, and generally keep the world of hotness turning, and until now I’ve been rubbish at joining in with all the fun weekly memes and story competitions that they run. So my resolution for this month (and next as well if I can keep it up) is to Join In with at least one thing each week – Sinful Sunday, Wicked Wednesday, and others too.

To start I thought I’d have a bash at writing some fiction. The awesome @sexblogofsorts, who I have a huge writers’ crush on because she writes so beautifully, is running a short story competition. The deal is she gives you the name of a lipstick, and you use that as the title for your story. Unfortunately, I’ve not written much fiction before, so I’m a bit ham-fisted with it, and my fiction stories always tend toward the ‘teenage goth’ genre. I was going to try and avoid teenage goth, but then @sexblogofsorts gave me my title, and it was “Sin” so…

The following story is possibly blasphemous, so if you’re super-religious you might not enjoy it. It’s also a dirty sex story, obviously, so best not to read it on the bus.

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It took me a long time to work out what subspace really was. When I first started going to kink events I heard so much chat about it – how people would go spacey and woozy during a beating, on a blissed-out high caused by the pain. How afterwards, their dominant would wrap them in blankets and bring them coffee or Coke, and they’d recover slowly, having the fuzzy feeling kissed and stroked away by wet lips and warm hands.

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Somewhere, a guy has a photo of me sitting topless in an office chair. Not just an office chair, in fact: the chair he sat at from nine til five, every day for over two years. My face, turned slightly away from the camera, is grinning with post-coital happiness.

How long after you’ve fucked someone in their office can you publish a blog about them without worrying they’ll get fired? Should you wait until they’ve left that job and moved on to another? Until long after you’ve broken up? Until after they’ve given you the go-ahead? Perhaps all three. Perhaps just one or two. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, because here’s one of my favourite sex stories…

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