Welcome readers, I like to imagine you’re on the edge of your seats, eagerly anticipating the climax of my efficient dating experience with a man who kindly fulfilled my last-minute request for a date, then came with me to a Travelodge to make out on one of the beds. Quite a few people replied excitedly to part one expecting porn in part two, thus falling into my cunning and evil trap. I wanted to raise your hopes nice and high because that’s the energy I brought with me on this date – it’s the energy I bring on every date. I wasn’t expecting anything, but naturally it would have been a welcome joy to have a sexy dude put it nice and hard inside me. The resulting disappointment will give you a true taste of my dating life because brace yourselves: this man well and truly talked himself out of a fuck.

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I’m so delighted to welcome this guest blogger back – he wrote a fabulous post towards the end of last year about sex and disability, and the value of focusing more on a sexual journey than the destination. It’s a gorgeous piece, please do check it out. Today he’s back with a recommendation – an idea for a playful use of sex tech that could help some people defeat that pernicious inner voice that whispers about inadequacy. Because sometimes sex toys really are ‘toys’ – they help us understand that sex is supposed to be fun. And while we’re having fun, that inner voice sometimes goes quiet…

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This fabulous kinky piece about writing on skin, and being owned, is written and read by JM Seaborn of Written In Kink. Note that this story contains ‘Daddy’ as an honorific – all participants are consenting adults.

It’s a fun game. Each morning, I make her sit on the bed in her towel. I kiss her forehead and tell her to close her eyes. And then I write a word, high on her inner thigh. She’s not allowed to look until her first break at work. That’s the rule.

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I’m so excited to bring you this week’s guest blog, from a brand new guest blogger who has already submitted a second (excellent) post that’s coming up in January! He’s here to talk to you today about sex and disability, specifically fulfilling his hunger for kissing, skin-to-skin contact, and other forms of intimacy, and the ways in which his disability makes him focus more on the journey rather than the destination…

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When I was young, my family used to be big followers of soaps: Neighbours, Eastenders, Coronation Street. I can’t remember what else there was to do on evenings in the nineties besides yell things at the telly as ludicrous fictional characters cocked up their lives in ever more creative ways. Perhaps this is testament to how my Mum raised me, but when I watched soaps, the thing that got me most irate was how terrible people were at just fucking talking to each other. 

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