Waterloo station. Bottom of the escalator, going up. Brunette, mid-thirties, backpack full of last-minute Christmas presents. The last time she fucked was yesterday – a quick make-up shag after a week of loneliness. He slipped out of her just as he started to come, and she conjures the memory of the wetness spreading on the inside of her thighs, and tries not to let the other commuters see her smile.

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When my partner is sad, he wilts like a plant. I can sometimes tell he’s sad, despite him putting in his best efforts to try and make me think he’s fine, and for a long time I struggled with knowing how to cheer him up. The kind words and reassurances and ‘I love you’s that usually work on me have very little effect on him. But I think I’ve cracked it now – the closest I can come to a ‘cheat code’ for love. His ‘love language’: cuddles.

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My favourite time to fuck is after I’ve emerged from the bath. I step out, dry off, cover my body in lotion or talc, and lie on the bed listening to the tail end of whichever podcast I put on to keep me company while I washed. When it’s nearly finished, I sext…

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The biggest lie we’re told about love is that the start of it is actually The End. The trial and strife and struggle of your day-to-day smooths out into plain sailing when you’ve someone beside you. You’ve walked into the sunset, and you live there now. It’s warm and calm, like the end of a summer’s day. Both of you have made it and you’re safe. The other relationship myths I’ve been told pale in comparison to this one: that love is easy, once you’re in it.

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If you know me even a little you’ll know that I love poetry almost as much as I love sex. So when Derek A Brown Sr got in touch to offer some erotic poetry for the guest blog slot I was utterly delighted, and now I’m ridiculously excited to share it with you. If you enjoy it as much as I did, please do follow him on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter and head to his website where you can buy his collections of erotic poetry too!

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