Did you know this week is Autism Awareness Week? And tomorrow (2nd April) is World Autism Awareness Day. To mark it, @HowlieT has dropped by with a kickass, funny, informative guest blog about sex on the autism spectrum. So whether you are on the spectrum yourself, or you’re shagging someone who is, she has some top tips on things you might want to think about to make sure your banging equals a banging time for both of you.

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This gorgeous caring kink story is written by the Queer Earthling, and originally appeared on their site. It is read aloud here by My Wild Lens. Note that this story contains consensual pain play, nipple clamps, sensation play, kink honorifics including “Daddy,” passing mentions of caregiver-little dynamics, mentions of depression and stress.

Daddy says, “Let’s make it better.” It doesn’t matter what’s wrong, in this story. Maybe I slept badly, maybe I’ve just had a stressful day, maybe my constant low-level depression is creeping in again. But something is wrong, and I can’t quite pull myself out of it.

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The thing I love about you, my dear, is your passion. You fight for the things you believe in. I love the way you refuse to give in to men who patronise or bully you. You’re a strong woman, you know that? And if there’s one thing people say about me, it’s that I’m a man who loves strong women.

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As I hope you can tell from the title of today’s post, this week’s guest blog contains some mild peril. Luckily, the fact that you’re reading it is evidence enough that the author of the piece is fine now, so please don’t worry. And naturally, once you’ve recovered from intense sex (or a hilarious sex accident), human instinct is to share that story with anyone who’ll appreciate it. So please welcome this week’s anonymous guest blogger, with a true story about an extremely powerful orgasm…

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One of the inherent difficulties with dating blog readers (and I should note here that I have not done much of it) is that by the time you’ve asked GOTN on a date, there is very very little I can do to make you not want to fuck GOTN. I can turn up, as I always do, looking like a bag of shit. I can get messy drunk and say things that are awkward or uncool. I can sweat like a horse at the Grand National because we’re no longer in the depths of winter but I enjoy a lovely jumper nonetheless. And yet still… you’ve read my blog. You liked my blog. You enjoyed the filth I post so much that you invited me out on a date. So I have a dilemma, which is that I can never really tell if you genuinely like me, or like GOTN.

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