It’s that time of year again! You know the one, where you run around shopping centres or scroll listlessly through Amazon hoping inspiration might strike. If you’re a bit like me, you’ll be a very last-minute shopper. If you’re a lot like me, you’ll be thinking ‘shit, I have to get my other half something really good because last year he got me a selection of thoughtful treats and I just panic-bought some Lego Technic.’ Fear not. If you’re shopping for someone you’re boning, I’ve compiled a selection of some of my sex product highlights from 2018: NSFW Christmas gifts that come with my personal seal of lust.

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How good are you at taking a compliment? Be honest, now: do you take them on board and ponder them until you genuinely understand what the person complimenting you means? Or do you tend to let them get filtered out through the hodgepodge of insecurities that you’ve accumulated over the years? I am rubbish at taking a compliment, but occasionally I get flashes of what the world might look like if I could properly take them on board.

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One of the strange things about my current relationship – as opposed to any other I’ve been in – is that I’ve forgotten how to get rejected. I know, right? Poor me. Please crack out the smallest violin you own and play a concerto in ‘Woe is GOTN.’ Rejection – and specifically sexual rejection – is something I used to have a lot of practise in. I knew how to take a ‘no’, and greet it with a shrug and a cuddle. I knew how to take ‘seriously? Now? AGAIN?’ and absorb it into my thick, thick skin, so it couldn’t pierce through to the soft bit inside me that – whisper it – needed sex to feel loved.

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“This is perhaps the closest I’ve got to one of my own ideas: that of a sex duvet made from soft and strokeable fabric that vocally rumbles as it is touched and that curls around me as I sink into it. My sex robot will be changeable at a whim: perhaps one day a bed made of breasts; another day, a series of vibrating and moving penises that talk dirty to me. Maybe sometimes both. Because that’s the joy of adaptable, personalisable sex robots that aren’t human, that aren’t gendered – they can just be what feels good at a particular time.” – Kate Devlin, Turned On: Science, Sex and Robots

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Sometimes my sexy blogs end with an orgasm. Other times they don’t. Sometimes they are neatly rounded off with a Scrubs-voiceover-style conclusion, wrapping up the whole experience with a neat and quotable line about love or empathy or deep-throating or what have you. But other times I leave them hanging, like on a recent post about getting fucked by a machine which ended just as I started speculating on whether my partner’s dick could fit inside me while I rode it. Someone in the comments said they’d like to know what happened next, and seeing as this is a question I get asked a lot about the sexy blog posts, I thought I’d have a crack at answering it.

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