I can’t remember when it was, but I hit a certain age and my parents and grandparents switched from ‘try not to get pregnant!’ to ‘quick, have babies NOW!’ My mind hasn’t quite followed their logic, but I am dimly aware that there are reasons to have sex alongside the fact that it’s really bloody fun, and this week’s guest blogger is going to tackle one of them. Namely: having sex in order to get pregnant.

His blog warmed the cockles of my otherwise ice-cold heart, and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.

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I once knew a guy with the best orgasm face in the entire world. He really let himself go – screwing up his eyes, opening his mouth, and tensing seemingly every muscle he had. It was sexy, and utterly involuntary, as if his orgasm was being milked out of his dick even as he tried to hold it back. Hot as fuck.

My own? I have no idea – many’s the time I’ve tried to catch the look on my face at the moment of orgasm – usually when fucking in front of a mirror. Luckily, no guy’s ever caught me doing this. Unluckily, like Scroedinger’s cat, the very act of observing it will alter its state. Just as you can never take an un-posed selfie, so you can never look at your own face at the point of climax without either killing the orgasm or making subtle changes to your own expression.

I used to worry deeply about my orgasm face. Occasional comments from guys that I looked, you know, like I’d simultaneously been electrocuted and handed a winning lottery ticket, meant that I feared killing the sexiest moments with a face like the winner of a gurning championship. For some reason this occasionally translated into closing my eyes for a fairly large proportion of a shag. Like a toddler who believes they can’t see you if you can’t see them – I’d assume that my partner would follow the cues and close their eyes too.

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It’s rare that I get the opportunity to offer a really specific piece of advice. As a general rule, when people email me to ask “how do I get laid though?” or “can you tell me how to make people fall in love with me?” my answers will be the kind of fence-sitting waffle you’d expect from someone who isn’t paid per word to clickbait. Because the truth is generally not very clickbait-friendly. “Top ten ways you suck at dating” sounds way better than “well everyone’s attracted to different things and it’s all a bit more complicated than that.”

However, every now and then, something arises on which I can offer solid, useful advice. I’m as shocked as you are, but here goes – my number one tip for being better at dating:

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I’m going through a phase where I really crave spanking. All I really want is to be smacked. Flat palm, bare bottom, good hard whacks. Lying on the sofa, with my feet in a guy’s lap, my usual whim would be for him to slide a hand up my leg and into the warmth of my crotch, casually thumbing my clit through my knickers until I wriggle and beg for a fuck.

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A long time ago someone published a book called ‘Porn for Women.’ Don’t get too excited, it isn’t actually porn. It was simply a collection of different images of guys doing the hoovering, washing, and other household tasks. In this ‘porn for women LOL’ hilarious trope, guys are occasionally tantalisingly half-dressed but never doing the kind of thing I’d consider genuinely horny: masturbating on the sofa, or poised halfway to sitting down on a butt plug – that kind of thing. I would be surprised if – barring a few people with very niche fetishes – anyone’s actually ever wanked to it.

I was reminded of it recently when someone (I don’t remember who and I don’t want to drop them in it even if I could) tweeted a list of ‘top female turn-ons’ which looked suspiciously like this book. The list included such gems as ‘listen attentively when she tells you about her day’ and ‘take the garbage out.’ I don’t know about you, but I’m more likely to have actual, satisfying sex with my own vacuum cleaner than to orgasm while thinking about a guy begrudgingly hauling bin bags to the front garden.

I do not sit at home frigging myself trembly over the idea of my partner picking up a hoover. I do not get wet just because someone is listening attentively while I speak, unless perhaps that person is Tyrion Lannister and what we’re discussing is just how hard he’d fuck me.

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