I’m not a fan of the word ‘sexpert’, mostly because it’s occasionally used about me, even though I’ve no idea what I’m doing. But there’s one area in which I’m happy to bestow the ‘sexpert’ title – those who work in the sex industry, and have carefully honed their sexy skills. This week’s guest blogger is just such a person. Jaye, who blogs at How To Almost Be A Porn Star – has worked on phone sex lines for a long time, as well as indulged in plenty of phone sex for fun, so she’s well-placed to tell you just why you should pick up the phone and let your filthy mouth run wild…

I love this post, and if you do too go and check out Jaye’s blog and follow her on Twitter.

(more…)

I’m still catching up on work, blog and life after Eroticon, so to tide you over with something fun I’ll give you a quick and dirty poem. I wrote this in part during Ashley Lister’s workshop, then tweaked it slightly on the train back.

It’s rough. But so am I.

(more…)

A few weeks back, I gave the best blow job I’ve ever given. Apparently. I don’t like writing that down so starkly – it’s far easier to talk about how mediocre I am in bed, or how incompetent I am with certain sex toys.

But I’m writing it because the sentence itself will spin round in my head forever. I don’t want anyone to tell me that anything was ‘the best blow job ever’, because I’m primed to root through any compliment until I eventually find a negative. And so this week I’m tortured by this one simple fact:

None of my other blow jobs were as good as that one. 

(more…)

In my sex education classes at school, I was told that sex was this:

A man puts his penis in a woman until he ejaculates.

There was a lot of stuff surrounding that, of course, all of it important: how to avoid getting pregnant, or reduce the risk of an STI. How the sperm meets the egg. Why menstruation happens. But at the heart of it was that: a man puts his penis in a woman. Train goes in tunnel, you know?

Everything I learned was grounded in that train-in-tunnel thing. Sure, we got timetables, instructions on emergency exits, and a map to where the buffet car was, but we were still always focused on the train.

(more…)

I’m not ashamed of my gender, or any of the subsets within it. There have been plenty of women whose behaviour has horrified me – the obvious example being Thatcher (and I apologise, because mentioning her name has become something like a feminist Godwin’s Law). But of my gender as a whole, I’m not ashamed.

If I were to say I was, I’d probably be told I was letting down the sisterhood. Someone would sigh, shake their head, and repeat that old saying: “women: beware women.” Criticising women as a woman is seen as a poisonous thing, and is subsequently painted as exactly the kind of thing a woman would do: those backstabbing bitches who’ll claw through their sisters to make their way to the top.

I’m not ashamed of women.

However, one of the most common things I hear from guys when I talk about some men’s appalling behaviour is this:

“I am ashamed of my gender.”

I hate it, and I want to explain why…

(more…)