There’s an ache that I have not yet told you about On Here. It throbs beneath the surface of my every other need. I have no idea if it’s something I’m legitimately allowed to feel, or if publicly acknowledging it is silly and self-defeating. It isn’t something I can actively chase, and it will definitely scare a few men. But let’s have a go anyway: what I ache for is decades of sex. With the same person. I am up for being open, being polyamorous, whatever relationship structure best fits my own needs and his. But fundamentally, powerfully, deeply, I yearn for long-term intimacy. As my life marches on, I find myself growing colder and colder at the thought of sex with total strangers. These days I dream of a man who I can fuck for decades.

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In drama at school we used to play a warm-up game that involved cutting a deck of cards to determine each character’s status. We’d be given a scenario, let’s say person A is a teenager who’s broken a vase during a house party while their parents were away, and B and C are the parents returning home. If you just tell people to play what they think those characters should do, the scene will run in a fairly obvious way. Parents discover the accident, interrogate their kid about how the breakage happened, the child is suitably apologetic/nervous of the consequences, etc. However, if you have each person cut the deck of cards and replay the scene, this time assuming status and power depending on which card they got, things look very different. Let’s say the kid gets a Jack or a Queen, Mum gets a 9 and Dad picks a 2. Now the kid has the most power, and might end up berating their parents for owning something so expensive in the first place. Mum is the kid’s semi-obsequious sidekick, agreeing with him while occasionally sniping at Dad for not anticipating that this might happen before he booked their weekend away. Dad grovels before both of them, frantically trying to make amends for an accident that, in his low-status role, he’s entirely reframed as his fault. See what I mean? Status isn’t inherent to each character, it’s determined by the luck of the draw. And status, power and playfulness are all at the heart of my idea for a Blackadder Threesome. Here’s one for all the horny switches.

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It’s that time of year again! February! The bit just before the 14th when everyone’s telling you to buy sex toys. Instead of just telling you to buy stuff, I am going to share with you some horny ideas for Valentine’s Day, then tell you that if you like those ideas you’re welcome to reward me by giving me good girl points clicking the links and buying cool things from the companies which sponsor this website. There are some amazing companies on the list (porn! Audio porn! Sex toys!), and my horny ideas are all ones you and a partner (or two, or three, or four) can put into practice with (I hope) relatively little effort, and either low cost (all but one are less than £50) or completely free. Don’t say I never treat you right. And even if you’re not in the market to buy, I hope you’ll enjoy these mini porn stories anyway. I had a super horny time writing them.

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The other day, I fell for a stranger. I choose my words here carefully. ‘Fell for’, not ‘fancied’ or ‘desired’. ‘Fell’, like you would if you slipped on a banana skin. Fall as in pratfall. But also fall as in ‘fail’. Perhaps this fall wasn’t a trip or a stumble (cue laughter track) but something more dismal, like a ‘fall’ off the edge of a cliff in a climactic episode of Eastenders. When I told this story to friends over WhatsApp, with a winky face and what I thought was a killer punchline, half of them reacted with sympathy. One asked if it was meant to be funny or sad. It was meant to be funny, but I guess if that isn’t obvious I should ponder why my friends are responding to the comedy of my life like it’s a tragedy. Maybe I should look a little closer. Let me tell you a story about falling for a man I’ve never met.

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Let’s get this out of the way to start with: I am not foolish enough to believe I’m the first person ever to wonder what kinky sex is like in the Dark Materials universe. Specifically in Lyra’s world, one in which everyone has their own daemon – a creature with whom you share a connection, who accompanies you at all times, and essentially functions as an external manifestation of your soul. The second you create a world with such creatures, and moreover declare that it’s taboo to touch someone else’s, inevitably you’re going to prompt a generation of perverts to grow up wondering what it’d be like to have your lover’s snake-daemon wrapped around your throat while they rail you. I know I’m not the first to explore this horny avenue, and I certainly won’t be the last. But it’s fun to ponder the implications of a world in which a part of your soul manifests in the form of an animal which is both reflective of your personality yet physically distinct from your human body, and how that might lend itself to some outrageously hot fuckplay. Strap in, my friends, cos this is gonna get… how shall I put it? … bestial.

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