It’s embarrassing to admit that I don’t like myself very much. Far more embarrassing, though, to tell you all that sometimes I think I’m OK. The latter carries way more shame, I want to whisper it in small-font italics. Sometimes I think I’m quite good, actually. Occasionally the tall, loud, brash, opinionated mess that makes up ‘me’ doesn’t feel so obnoxious. I like myself when I’m with you.

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If you missed the first part, here’s an overview: I had a test date with a blog reader, “Jack”, who took me up on my offer to do a phone chat and message exchange then give him feedback on where he might be going wrong. It was also a challenge for me. I am prone to avoiding constructive critique because I’m a rampant people-pleaser who never wants to upset anybody. Would I be able to tell Jack where he was going wrong without burying anything useful in a torrent of consoling positivity? Let’s see, shall we?

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We’ve all got to start somewhere, right? And sometimes when we’re starting out, it’s helpful to have someone with a little (or a lot) more experience to guide us on the journey. Today’s blog is by the wonderful @jamiebear (who runs the Gay News Archive Project and has written amazing things in the past about the hotness of someone’s scent and being a proud submissive). And he’s here to tell a super hot story about fucking a new Dom who was tentatively stepping in to kink, and needed a helping hand on how to do that well…

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I don’t know how long it’s been since I was last properly belted. A year at least, maybe two. It’s not the end of the world. I love kink, and I adore being used and abused, but my desires are incredibly responsive, so I’m far less concerned about finding a relationship that ticks off all the spanky acts on my submissive wishlist than I am about building connection with someone I love. Still. One of the nice things about leaving a relationship is remembering all the opportunities that you once packed away with a shrug, which you can now dust off again. And as I rummage through a box marked ‘things I can do now I’m single’, getting belted just happens to lie on the top. Luckily for me, a mate made it her mission to drag me up off the floor from the pool of wine and tears in which I was lying, and force me outside to have fun. Let me tell you about my friend, the Queen of the Dungeon.

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I read this one to Patreons in December, and it’s long, so here’s this post as audio if you prefer.

I have a message here for men. And before I get stuck into it, I’ll clarify (as I always have to) that obviously I don’t mean all men. In fact this time I don’t even mean ‘most’ men. I am speaking very precisely to single, straight/bi/pan men in London between the ages of about 30 and 50. My message is this: up your game.

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