There are plenty of things in life I love right now, which I’ll inevitably tire of in the future; painting weird patterns on my nails, eating coleslaw directly from the tub, occasional incompetent gardening. But there is one thing I will never ever tire of: hearing new masturbation tricks.

The following story was told to me by a smoking hot stoner guy – the same guy who taught me blowbacks could be a form of breath play. I’m going to tell it to you in his own words, as closely as I can remember. If you would like to picture him speaking, understand that however you see his face, you must give him big hands and broad shoulders: strong, hefty arms in a loose t-shirt. Picture it now: imagine him reaching down to grip his cock.

Got it? Then let’s begin.

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For over a year now, Stuart F Taylor (aka @chainbear on twitter) has been drawing illustrations to go with my blog posts. They’re stunning things, each one custom drawn to go with a particular post. Whether it’s a specific sex act (like spanking) or an abstract concept (like edging yourself to orgasm), each and every one of them is a work of sexy art.

Stuart’s going to be taking a very well-earned break for a month or so, so I thought it might be a nice opportunity to give you a run-down of some of my favourite sexy illustrations that he’s drawn over the last year or so. Problem with picking favourites though, is that I love every single one of them so it’s pretty much impossible to choose – head to the image galleries (SFW one + NSFW one) and check out the others.

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Confession: I used to hate lube. Not all the time, I could see it had its merits. When you’re bumming, for instance, there is no natural lubricant up your arse, so a fuckload of the sticky stuff is as essential as a safety rope if you’re climbing a mountain.

For hand jobs, I could get on board with lube as a means of making the whole thing more special – just the right kind of tingling lube at the perfect moment, or a good dollop to enable better use of a masturbation sheath. Fine.

But for sex? I wasn’t sure. I feel like a total nob for admitting this but lube used to seem like a sign of personal failure.

I haven’t talked about this much before, and to wrench a nugget of total honesty out of my cringing heart, I hadn’t really discussed it with my partners either. Occasionally, if I was horny but a bit too drunk to slick my knickers, I’d pop to the bathroom on the way to the bedroom. Pull down my pants, spit on my hand, and rub it in the right places: fake what I couldn’t make.

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The following post contains some filthy sex chat about erotic asphyxiation – I’ve put it below/behind the cut so you don’t have to read if that kind of thing disturbs you. Likewise, if you don’t understand that it can be well dangerous, please don’t read on. I realise you can probably work this out for yourself, but occasionally I get linked from Reddit and people leave comments assuming I’m instructing everyone to treat sex like it’s a no-holds-barred Ultimate Fighting championship, and I get stressed. So this message is here as much for me as it is for you. 

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“Do you want another biscuit?”

“Ah, no I’m OK thanks. I’ve had five and I had a big lunch – I’m really full.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure thanks.”

“Go on – they’re delicious!”

“I know. I just…”

“G’wan.”

“OK, thanks.”

And then I sit and eat the biscuit and think ‘for fuck’s sake, I am a grown up. I should be able to decide whether I want a fucking biscuit.’ But then someone will pass the plate around again, and I’ll take another, because I don’t want to be rude. And by the end of the day I will be so sick of biscuits and so sad that these things I love very much (biscuits) have been ruined by the fact that I’ve had them politely shoveled into my face alongside the cup of tea that I don’t really like either.

This isn’t a metaphor for sex.

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