Tag Archives: communication

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Guest blog: ‘Quite Delightful’, James Deen and me

Today’s guest blog (which includes discussion of rape and sexual assault), was written after something very odd happened. It happened just before Christmas, and thanks to a combination of anxiety and Christmas stress I wasn’t keen to delve too deeply into it at the time. But New Year is a time for Getting On With Stuff, and what better things to be Getting On With than calling out shitty companies who behave badly?

A company called Quite Delightful (who tweet under @QuiteBriefly on Twitter), got into something of a heated debate in December about James Deen. In case you’re not aware, many women have accused Deen of rape or sexual assault, and Deen has denied the allegations. The statements that Quite Delightful made showed what I think is a pretty callous attitude towards people who have been raped or sexually assaulted.

On a personal level, I obviously disagree with QD. On a boring professional level, I’m pretty surprised that this company was happy to alienate a whole bunch of sex writers, customers, and potential customers – not just dismissing them but tweeting in a way that all their followers could see, thus inviting others to come and tell us just how wrong we were. It bothers me because I have seen the company (which publishes an ‘erotic magazine by and for women’) recommended by a number of people I respect in the sex industry, and I figure there are probably quite a few of them who are unaware of the comments @QuiteBriefly made, because they have since deleted their tweets.

So many thanks to @sophable – a customer of theirs, who has kindly offered to explain why this left a very bad impression.

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All the ways in which Star Wars stopped me getting laid

OR: The inevitable folly of pretending you like shit just to get people to fuck you

I fucking hate Star Wars. I hate it. I hate it more than any reasonable human could be expected to hate a thing. Are the films themselves shit? Maybe. I have only seen one and a half of them (don’t ask me which ones, I could not give one iota of a toss).

I hate Star Wars because, on numerous occasions, my ignorance of it has stood in the way of me getting laid.

I am a fan of nerdy people. I think they’re hot and I like to fuck them. I would happily take five or six of the nerdiest people I know, lie them in a row on a giant double bed covered in Darth Vader bedsheets, and fuck them until one or other of them awakened the force.

Like Doctor Who, I tried to get into Star Wars because (shameless, shameless, shameless) quite a few nerdy guys I fancied kept talking about it, and I figured that if I wanted to get some geek dick I would need to learn what a Milennium Falcon was. Luckily for me, Doctor Who is really good, so what began as a gentle foray into something (“I like horror so I’ll go in with Weeping Angels and OH MY GOD THIS IS EXCELLENT PLEASE PUT ALL OF IT INTO MY BRAIN”) turned into a pretty long term love affair.

Unluckily for me, Star Wars is a tedious, overhyped shitshower, and Luke Skywalker isn’t even hot.

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Don’t tell me sucking dick is easy

Today a guy wrote a Vice article about why he doesn’t want to eat pussy. There are a number of things I could say in response to his article, mostly involving swearwords, and desperate pleas that he stop repeating the same tedious bullshit that comes out whenever any straight bloke thinks he has a Scorching Hot Take on the subject of eating cunt.

As a general rule, my opinion on cunnilingus is that it’s not really my bag, but I’ll enjoy doing it to a lady if I’m fucking her. If you want to eat it, tuck in, but I won’t shame you if you’d rather not.

However, what I DO object to is the implication that it’s far more onerous to ask someone to give cunnilingus than it is to ask for a blow job. In the piece, the author says:

“The penis is a simple thing – it’s hard to get things completely wrong.”

To which I reply: HOW FUCKING HARD ARE YOU SHITTING ME, SUNSHINE?

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Guest blog: The poly break-up that never was

Blog removed at the author’s request.

Beware the Superdom, and other people who tell you they’re good in bed

There’s a man who is half-human and half-legend. He is fierce, strong, powerful. He can pick you up with his bare hands, flip you over his knee, and give you a spanking so perfect that it will transport you to a new realm of ecstasy. Afterwards he will fuck you so skilfully that you will become aware of a new level of orgasmic joy.

That man is the Superdom.

If you’re lucky enough to meet him, it will probably be on a kink forum somewhere. Perhaps he will write a post explaining to other, lesser Doms how to control a submissive, hinting that if you’re lucky you could be one of them. Maybe he slides into your private messages with an order to “Obey.” If you don’t immediately slick your knickers/pop a huge, granite-hard boner, then you are probably not the submissive for him. He does not want your questions or your negotiation: he demands only your unquestioning obedience.

Superdom, sadly, is all too real. I met a fair few incarnations of him when I was pretty active on the kink scene. He’d look at you with smouldering eyes, and tell you exactly what he was going to do. He’d usually let you know that you could only come if he ordered you to, and that you’d come at exactly the moment he specified (yeah, right). He’d give you lists of punishments and tasks and insist on you calling him ‘Sir’, even if you’d never agreed to submit to him.

He was a dick.

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