I don’t want to hop onto the traditional relationship escalator – the societal script that dictates broadly how committed relationships are supposed to play out, gradually escalating from ‘dating’ through ‘exclusivity’ and onward towards cohabitation, marriage, babies and beyond. Although I’m definitely still open to stuff like living together and owning a joint home, I’ve been burned so thoroughly on both of these things that I’m not keen to leap back in unless there’s a really compelling reason/guy. But that’s not to say that escalation in and of itself is bad. Here’s an alternative relationship escalator.

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If I’m shagging you and I’m going on top, there are broadly four things you can do with your dick if you’d like to – for want of a better word – ‘join in.’ Obviously the peripheral things are infinite and always up for grabs: touching my tits, making sexy moaning noises, calling me a good girl, kissing me, yelling my name at the ceiling like you’re trying to put cracks in the plaster, etc. But when it comes to the actual fuck, there are four things you can do. Three of them are brilliant, one of them sucks, and I don’t know how to tell men I’m fucking not to try and do it.

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I can’t tease you any longer, my friends. It was cruel of me to do so in the first place. The fun little trilogy that started with a dating challenge and moved on to me and a hot guy swapping sex stories is just that: a trilogy. It’s not the first chapter in a brand new erotic romance. Fuck it, though, he and I had a lot of fun, and personally I find it fitting (and deeply satisfying for my overall philosophy) that the guy who restored my faith in dating didn’t do so by being the perfect match, but by embarking on our dates with genuine emotional honesty. When I set out on the initial challenge (‘ask out the hot man who works in my shop’) it wasn’t about whether he said ‘yes’, only about whether I was brave enough to ask him in the first place. Likewise, the success of our dates didn’t come down to whether we kicked off a serious relationship, but whether we met as equals with a genuine desire to find out if we matched. The fact that we don’t match is no more than a footnote. The headline is that we found that answer swiftly, respectfully, and while having a fair bit of fun. Shop Man Part 3. Let’s do this.

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This gorgeous guided masturbation/fisting story in which our narrator gets help to rediscover her orgasm is written and read by Carolyna Luna, and originally appeared on her website. 

I haven’t always had to pay for my orgasms. I’d given up caring about stigmas, however, when my years of anorgasmia were overcome under Naomi’s firm guidance. So when her text pinged that morning, I put my coat right back on and headed out.

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I get these bursts of it, every now and then. Like a high. It swells upwards and outwards from the centre of my chest – rushing with a power that’s so much stronger than the first tingles of love. In the beginning, these rushes were so intense that sometimes they’d stop me in my tracks. Make it so I had to pause whatever I was doing and just breathe for a few seconds. In and out. Spine straight, shoulders back, slightly light-headed like you get when you stand up too quickly.

Freedom.

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