I’m clearly on a dominant roll with guest bloggers at the moment. No sooner has @EuclideanPoint sent me a gorgeous blog on female domination and orgasm denial, then another pops into my inbox, from a gentleman’s point of view. This particular gentleman wants to remain anonymous, but regardless of his name, some of the mental images he’s put in my head with this story will stay with me for a very long time.
Some writing makes me horny, and some writing makes me cry. Some brings me to a weird horny-sad place where the only appropriate thing to do is curl into a ball of lustful anguish and imagine all those times I’ve felt the same.
This week’s guest blog does just that. I won’t give it a long build-up and intro because, to be honest, it speaks for itself. This week, Leo is going to tell you about sex with an ex.
She didn’t just have me at ‘hello’, this week’s guest blogger had me at ‘we won’t be needing this pathetic cock…’ Some people seem to have a natural knack and talent for domming, and I can’t help but watch in semi-envious arousal. This is one of those times.
Please welcome @EuclideanPoint, with an intensely hot guest post on orgasm denial…
Six months ago I wrote a review of the Doxy massager. It did such amazing things to my clit that I nearly fired my right hand, so I have understandably been on the hunt for something that creates similar ‘tear down the walls’ sensations, but for cocks.
To assist me on my quest, Sextoys.co.uk gave me a ‘Pulse’ by Hot Octopuss – a magical dick-massaging device, which I think may well be ‘the one.’ What I really wanted to do was set up a stall in Camden and ask beautiful pierced boys if they’d like me to test it on them, but because I am selfless and giving, I couldn’t in all honesty test a penis-based sex toy myself. So I had it swiftly couriered to a gentleman, and demanded that he use his written eloquence and long-suffering cock to write me a special guest blog.
This is Lewis, and here is his totally unbiased review of the Pulse, by Hot Octopuss. Read it if a) you have a penis and want to find out if this thing is any good or b) you fancy dudes and want to read an intensely hot description of one jerking himself off.
Enjoy.
Review of the Pulse by Hot Octopuss – how to wank like Batman
I get endless joy from touching my cock. I like touching it, I like you touching it, I like jiggling my fucking leg while I’m at work, feeling myself getting harder and more sensitive until I’m straining against my trousers with a cheap desk for dignity and trying to work out whether I can get away with running my nails down the length of it one more time.
It’s a wonder I’ve not been fired, really.
This desperate drive for self pleasure isn’t a new thing – my teenage diaries took less than a week to devolve into a meticulously logged masturbation journal, complete with helpful suggestions like “NB: Bag of ice pressed against balls doesn’t chill spunk – just makes balls cold” and “managed to lick the tip again- more flexibility needed.”
I don’t keep a diary now, of course, thanks to both Twitter and the fact that a twenty eight year old man with a spreadsheet of his wanks is less “horny teenage charm” and more “here is my collection of nail clippings from the last ten years”. I do, however, still take phenomenal delight in wanking, whether it’s a quick functional tug in the toilet or a full-on, Sunday morning session that ends with an arched back and a stomach covered with come.
Naturally, when GoTN approached me and said “Would you like to review a thing designed to make your cock feel amazing?” my response was calm and measured and definitely not a slobbering desperation to Put My Cock in A Thing.
The object in question was the “Pulse” by Hot Octopuss, a company whose name sounds like a character from a porny version of Metal Gear Solid and whose design ethic seems to be “What if Batman was really keen on touching his junk?”
The Pulse is a hand-sized rubbery business (NB – actually silicone) which envelops your cock like an over friendly stingray. It charges by USB, has several speed settings, and, when you’re not tugging yourself senseless, can rest on your cock so your partner can straddle you to join the fun
I’ll be honest: I was initially apprehensive about reviewing this after GoTN set the bar so fucking high on her Doxy review and those god damn sound files. I’m not particularly vocal when I wank and was desperately worried that all I’d end up with was five minutes of what sounded like a hungry walrus being denied a fish. I’ve also never really used a sex toy specifically designed for wanking before, preferring the god’s honest method of my hand, a bit of spit and maybe something in my arse if I’m feeling decadent.
Still. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The Pulse proudly states that it is the first toy of its ilk that can be used flaccid or erect, as well as being fun with or without lube, so like the pioneers of old, I popped my unerect cock in a thing to see what would happen.
The vibrations are deep even at the lowest setting – a bass rumble that builds into an electrifying buzz as you increase the power – and within a couple of minutes I went from “vaguely horny but nothing special” to “cock straining against the Pulse fuck me this feels good more more more”.
I spent most of my first go in a hands-off way, simply enjoying the new and powerful feelings as the weight of the Pulse pressed my cock against my stomach, the relentless vibrations making me twitch and whimper until I couldn’t stand it any more. Holding the Pulse tight I gave myself quick, hard strokes until I was just on the edge of orgasm. It took a Herculean effort of willpower to let go then, but I wanted the Pulse to carry me over.
Fuck me it did.
I was harder than I had been in weeks. My entire body twitching and desperate. Slowly, achingly, I felt myself get closer. For a man who is normally very quiet when wanking, it was a hell of a shock to find myself panting “Oh god” over and over again as I finally came, covering my stomach in spunk and collapsing into a heap on the bed.
I’m not going to tell you that you should buy the Pulse, but I will say is that I’m going to use it tonight while my partner sucks me off.
I can’t fucking wait.
Thanks Lewis, you have put some filthy-hot images in my head that I will only be able to exorcise with a strenuous wank of my own. I hope that now you’ve read his review, you understand what a massive wrench it was for me to give this toy away, and why even I – a person who is offered free sex toys on an hourly basis – am going to fork out actual cash money to get me one of these. What better way to express my love than by running excitedly into the living room and shouting ‘I’m going to wank you off with Batman’s jizz-extractor!’
If you want to find out more about it, visit the Pulse website, where you can buy one using my affiliate link (so I get a bit of money that helps me keep this site running) also see some dirty hot pictures of a beautiful tattooed guy, like this one:
If I had a quid for every time I’ve taken a pregnancy test even though I’m 99% sure I couldn’t possibly be pregnant, I’d have enough money to babyproof my house.
This week’s guest blogger is Liz, and she’s going to talk to you about her feelings on sexual health. Or, more accurately, what she’s nicknamed ‘sexual hypochondria’: the line between sensible worry and terrible panic, and the fact that when you’re worried about your sexual health it can be hard to tell the difference. If you like her writing do go and check out her Tumblr – Beaux Bisous.
As with any blog about health, I would be a total arse if I didn’t point out up front that I am not a doctor. Neither is Liz. Therefore this isn’t a blog about how to treat STIs, the best ways to test for STIs, or even the best way to avoid STIs. For all those you need to visit your actual doctor. But for a post that evokes the panic of not knowing, and the relief when you find out you’re clean? Well, I’ll hand you over to Liz…
Sexual Hypochondria
I think most people have slight hypochondriac tendencies, even without realising. Feeling crap, remembering an odd-tasting glass of water the evening before, and subsequently spending the rest of the day entertaining the possibility of having contracted cholera is probably a fairly normal tangent for the human mind. But what is, in my opinion, even more normal, is sexual hypochondria. Anxiety to keep our bodies healthy is one thing, but genitalia is definitely a whole different ball game (no pun intended). With more and more contraceptive products and statistics to differentiate between, and seemingly endless consequences to not having immaculately safe sex, it’s no wonder that we get easily worried.
Or is it? As Mean Girls’ Coach Carr helpfully pointed out: “Don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant and die.” Ignoring the fact that dying is a fact of life, and thanks to the miracle of pregnancy you’re actually reading this, there’s actually a fairly sound point in that sentence. The only way to guarantee lifelong perfect sexual health is just to avoid sex altogether – sorry, where’s the fun in that? Fun and risks go hand in hand. And if you’re never going to prevent occasional sexual health issues, then the fear of what’s going to happen and when is a normal occurrence. It’s akin to praying that you don’t suddenly end up with the flu in your busiest week of work. I’m not trying to make a poorly disguised attack on services like the NHS, because I do believe there is by far enough information out there. I suppose the point of this post is to remind people that being hyperconscious of sexual health is definitely better than having no awareness whatsoever.
I certainly fall into the hyperconscious camp. Despite the fact that I’ve now been on the pill for six months, the only sexual partner I’ve had in that time is my current boyfriend, and the whole concept of not using condoms was a new experience for me. So in the two months we’ve been together, that hasn’t stopped me googling horror stories of the negligible percentage who have managed to get pregnant, and despite the fact that we’re both clean of STDs, I found myself ordering a pregnancy test and an STD self-test kit just for peace of mind.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve taken the morning after pill a few times, got myself antibiotics for a UTI with the explanation of “I think my vagina’s on fire”, and sternly watched one guy reapply four condoms before we were both satisfied that he’d put it on properly. Sexy? I think not. I’ve definitely improved, minus the cautious tests, to the point where I’ve even managed to ignore various websites’ warnings of warts (ugh) and tearing (please, no) and actually engage in anal sex.
Whatever kind of sex you’re having – genital, oral, anal – you don’t need me to tell you that there are risks. But the kind of relief that comes with regularly checking, depending on your sex life, is not one to pass up. I reckon the amusing fixation with sexual health is definitely more critical than general health because it is our livelihood. And what’s more, people like me can order as many self-test kits as they like, but if I’m clean, I’m clean. That’s not going to do anything to the rising number of STDs and unwanted pregnancies, much as I wish I could single-handedly change the actions of numerous people. Feel free to laugh at me, I do. But the point of sharing my slightly ridiculous means of maintaining good sexual health is to normalise this sexual hypochondria that we all have. All it takes is a free test kit through the post, a cheap pregnancy test from your local pharmacy, or an appointment with your doctor to reassure or solve your worries.
I may be inwardly dancing with glee at having written about a topic that even GOTN “cringed” about, and I do realise that even the title itself could seem far less interesting than posts on bondage, feminism and erotica, but this is something very real. Go forth and enact your own erotica, but please, leave pubic lice out of it.
