Anal sex is a topic I have done to death here before. If you’ve been reading for longer than a few weeks, you know that it’s one of my favourite things. The tightness of it, the promise of something deliciously taboo, the way he’ll whisper ‘good girl’ in my ear as I wriggle back onto his cock… unngh.

(more…)

This post discusses sleep sex (and sleep ‘other things’). Everything that happens here is 100% consensual, with a guy I trust a lot, and with whom I have had numerous conversations about sleep shagging. It is not an endorsement to go ahead and do this with people who you haven’t had similar conversations with, obviously. 

Apparently on Saturday night I kept a guy awake for hours by repeatedly wrapping my arms round him and begging him to touch my tits.

Yeah, that’s weird, isn’t it?

I was also either 100% asleep for the entire thing, or I have suffered selective amnesia. When he explained to me, very patiently, on Sunday morning that he was a bit knackered ‘because of your weird midnight nipple demands’ you could have knocked me down with a feather. You could also have knocked him down with a feather, because – thinking I was awake – he kindly acquiesced, until eventually he fell asleep on me for a while before I woke him up for more.

(more…)

As a certified grumpy bastard, I can tell you that it’s always much easier to be negative than positive. As someone with access to web stats I can also tell you that if you want to get clicks, and you’re not writing porn, you’re always better to be critical than optimistic. I’m throwing all that out of the window today, though, because of a conversation I had the other day that went a little something like this:

“Know what’s brilliant?”

“What?”

“We could have sex now if we wanted to.”

“I’m not really in the mood, but…”

“Ah, but you don’t have to want to, you just have to appreciate how cool it is that we totally could if we wanted to.”

Sometimes I go through miserable phases when I look down at my body and think ‘huh, there are some things that have happened here that are basically irreversible.’ I worry about stretchmarks or consider the fact that I’m no longer able to do the things I did when I was eighteen. I may still be able to get my ankles behind my head to brace against the bedposts, but I’ll no longer do it without a groan of effort. I can bend over sexily, but I’ll say ‘oof’ when I get up. Cramp is not so much an occasional visitor as a permanent unwanted house guest.

But, while it’s easy (and certainly more clickbait-friendly) to snark about the negatives, it’s also worth remembering the benefits of having sex in your thirties. This post is about giving credit to all the things I often take for granted…

(more…)

A few weeks ago, Mary wrote the first in her three-part story about virginity. It began with A, a guy she met on Tinder, moved swiftly through some sexy outdoor fumbles, and into a Travelodge with lube and sandwiches.

Now she’s back with the third part of her story, to let you know what happened next.

Massive thank you to Mary for writing the series: one of the reasons I love hosting guest bloggers is that it shows me a whole bunch of different perspectives. While I can bang on about what ‘virginity’ means to me, or tell you stories about first times of my own, I don’t own a monopoly on sex, and if it were just me shouting my fantasies into the void then this blog would be a really boring (and probably slightly creepy) place.

So. Read parts one and two of Mary’s story, get stuck in to part three, and if you have an experience or perspective on something that you’d like to share, please do pitch me a guest blog for 2016.

(more…)