Yesterday some poor soul wrote in to the Guardian to ask why his girlfriend masturbates after sex. His assumption was that it was because she was ‘insatiable’, and the agony aunt explained that perhaps she just fancied a second orgasm, or wanted to pleasure herself without the potential anxiety or pressure of doing it in front of him. My answer is a lot more sweary and pretty NSFW, but here goes: maybe the sex made her really, really horny.

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Today’s guest blog is pretty fucking special. It’s written by James Mycroft, who you might remember from this lovely guest poem from a few weeks ago. Today’s post is very different. Where there was longing in his poem, here there is lustful agony. While that poem was about being apart, this one’s about being together – intensely and explicitly. James is going to tell you all about dick vibrations and orgasm control. And because his timing in pitching me this idea matched neatly with the release of the Hot Octopuss Pocket Pulse dick vibrator, I asked them to send one to him to try out. Brace yourselves because this is entirely Not Safe For Work.

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This post discusses forced orgasm, which is sometimes a part of consensual non-consent play. I assure you I’d only ever want to do this to a guy who was 100% up for playing this role, but if forced orgasm is not your thing, look away now.

I want to watch a man being milked of his spunk. While he bites his lip and holds back, and screws his eyes tight shut to concentrate on something – anything – else. A guy who is being forced to come, at the same time as he’s been ordered to try not to.

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I wish I could remember my most powerful orgasm. Although I don’t believe in an afterlife, I like to think that if there was one, you’d get some ‘life stats’ before you passed over to the other side. Someone would tell you what your happiest day was, and you’d get to relive it. You’d get a tally of how many people, over the course of your existence, had nursed a giant crush on you. And you could see footage of your most powerful orgasm.

Although I can’t remember my own most powerful orgasm, today’s guest blogger can remember his. He is here to tell you all about it –  as well as the hot fuck that produced it – in deliciously pervy detail. Enjoy!

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For a brief period in my otherwise sofa-based life, I used to go running. Stop laughing at the back. My boyfriend at the time was really into his running, and his enthusiasm for this activity infected me to the point where roughly three times per week I would put on my trainers and gamely wheeze my way along a river while he ran gracefully in front. It was absolutely horrible. Still. Occasionally – VERY occasionally – I managed to get into stride. For a few brief seconds, I’d bounce lightly on my feet, propel myself with power, and breath like a normal person. During those times I got a teeny flash of joy, and a revelation – this is what it must feel like to be GOOD at this! I got the same feeling recently, when going on top during a shag. The perfect rhythm, the right amount of bounce, and a sense that this is what it must feel like to be GOOD at this.

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