Sometimes I write posts to turn you on, and sometimes I write them so I can hop up on my soapbox and have a rant. In fact, I’m due to write a nice in-depth rant about fantasies off the back of the last two horny posts – a woman having a wank part 1 and part 2. But today I’m feeling soft and chill, and I don’t feel like getting into complex stuff. Today I am just writing because there’s a fun story I’ve been meaning to share for a while, and I love wallowing in nostalgia – especially nostalgia about times when I was blissfully happy and loved-up. I think the following is such a great date idea that other people might want to steal it and try it for themselves. This is the coolest date I went on with my Hot Punk Guy, and with some slight adaptations to personalise the schedule, it could be the best date you go on as well.

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This is a story about a woman having a wank. I know I’ve already told you one story about a woman having a wank, but this one’s very different. Imagine, please, a woman lying on top of the duvet on her bed, sometime around midday, curtains closed so she doesn’t shock the neighbours, rifling through her memory banks for a sexy idea that’ll help her get to a quick orgasm before she has to sit back down at her desk. She settles on something that fits the mood, so brings her fingertips to her mouth – spitting on them gently so as to start warming up her clit.

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The sad thing happens on Monday morning. But there were lots of sad things that laid the path to it, so perhaps it’s not surprising that initially I’m just a bit numb. All day I’m braced for the waves of despair to crash. I sit at my desk. I work. I write. Edit some audio porn, upload a bit to Patreon, and wait and wait and wait for the misery to hit.

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I remember very vividly the first sexy daydream I had about a boy. I felt myself growing hot and tense inside before experiencing a release of arousal as the daydream came to climax. Not a real climax, sadly I’ve never had the ability to make myself come just by thinking about the right thing. But the right thoughts can trigger something intense, and this was the first time I’d experienced that intensity: the instant, shocking realisation that my mind could make my body do this thing, purely through the power of imagination. It was way more graphic than the purely cerebral lust I’d felt for guys in the past. When I talk about this feeling on the blog, I often refer to it as that ‘kick in the gut’ of lust. Or the unngh moment. Some fantasies might press a few buttons in your mind, sparking ideas and feelings that you want to follow up later, but these particular sexy dreams and daydreams are on another level: they kick me in the gut. Give me that unngh.

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Is Liquid Silk the best lube on the market, or does it just happen to be popular with guys I’ve fucked? This question has played on my mind for a long time. Far longer than is reasonable, to be honest. When I was single in my twenties, I rarely paid much attention to brands, I’d just use the lube provided by whoever wanted to fuck me up the arse. Eventually, though, I started to notice a pattern. If ‘every single guy I fucked using the same lube’ could constitute a pattern. Is block colour a pattern? Whatever. My ex used Liquid Silk, and I assumed he just really liked it, but after he and I parted ways I went on to fuck some more guys and… yeah… they all used Liquid Silk too! So obviously that’s what I bought, because although I pretend to be feminist deep down I’m obsessed with impressing men. The type of men I most wanted to lick all tended to use it, so I assumed Liquid Silk must be the best lube around. But is it actually? Or have I just jumped on a bandwagon beside other lazy, sexy, wank-loving Londoners? Let’s find out.

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