Tag Archives: advice
Pavlov’s blow job
Before I suck dick, I take out my lip ring. I haven’t always done this – some guys used to enjoy the extra sensation, so I’d leave it in. Others felt it made very little difference – a blow job’s a blow job, right? – so I wouldn’t bother taking it out before I began. But my current partner prefers his blow jobs au naturel, so I take out my lip ring. And in doing so, I’ve inadvertently managed to achieve a bizarre sexual ambition.
Can you get round a porn block?
Do you know how to get round a porn block? If your immediate thought here involved something like a VPN or Tor, then congratulations: it sounds like should your government implement a porn block you’ll have a reasonable idea how to circumvent it. However, can I ask that you please please please stop telling me on Twitter that you how to get around a porn block? Allow me to explain why.
Two things: working for free and musical vibrators
Two things this week is going to begin with a hilarious conversation I had with a website owner this week about working for free. Then, when that’s got you good and angry, I will cheer you up with news of a musical about vibrators. There’s also a bonus ‘good thing’ from Erika Lust, if you have an amazing idea for a porn film.
5 years’ of sex blogging: the numbers and more
It’s been five years since I started this blog. Which is fucking bizarre when I sit down and think about it. Five entire years of my life – that’s nearly 16% of my time on this planet – has been spent sex blogging. For nearly three of those years being ‘Girl on the Net’ has been my full-time job.
So this post might be a bit meta and involved for some of you, but for others who are either sex blogging already or thinking of setting out, I wanted to give you as honest an overview as I can of what 5 years’ of sex blogging looks like. The numbers, the lessons learned, the mistakes and the occasional successes. Here goes.
Fucking on the sofa
I hate my sofas. I hate them with every single fibre of my being. I hate them more because I should have anticipated the problems I have had with them, and left them to rot in Marks and Spencer where they belonged. With their shitty sleek design and their evil spindly legs. And their squeaky, ill-placed, uncomfortable cushions.
I cannot fuck on my sofa. And although this might sound like an entitled whine (it is), I want you to be able to learn from my mistakes if you can. Never ever ever buy a sofa you cannot fuck on.