I love dick, it’s brilliant. Unfortunately, I don’t love it all the time on a 24/7 basis. As a sex blogger, my work is a constant background throb throughout my life: even when I’m not feeling horny, my Tweetdeck spits out pre-scheduled posts from ‘this time last year’ in which I wax lyrical about my love of blow jobs. About a year ago, I got frustrated with the fact that this painted a picture of me as constantly horny for cock, which men (understandably) responded to in the moment, without realising that at that specific point I was actually in the middle of extremely stressful work and probably not up for sexting at that moment in time. All this to say, I wrote a silly poem called ‘your dick can wait, I’m working.’ Don’t take it too seriously, especially if you and I are fucking.

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