I can’t tease you any longer, my friends. It was cruel of me to do so in the first place. The fun little trilogy that started with a dating challenge and moved on to me and a hot guy swapping sex stories is just that: a trilogy. It’s not the first chapter in a brand new erotic romance. Fuck it, though, he and I had a lot of fun, and personally I find it fitting (and deeply satisfying for my overall philosophy) that the guy who restored my faith in dating didn’t do so by being the perfect match, but by embarking on our dates with genuine emotional honesty. When I set out on the initial challenge (‘ask out the hot man who works in my shop’) it wasn’t about whether he said ‘yes’, only about whether I was brave enough to ask him in the first place. Likewise, the success of our dates didn’t come down to whether we kicked off a serious relationship, but whether we met as equals with a genuine desire to find out if we matched. The fact that we don’t match is no more than a footnote. The headline is that we found that answer swiftly, respectfully, and while having a fair bit of fun. Shop Man Part 3. Let’s do this.

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One of the things I miss about having a regular partner – notably a live-in one, who hangs around the house, teasing me sluttily by existing in possession of a dick – are those moments of casual horn that come when you’re in close quarters. The fact that another person in my space will necessarily be sexual sometimes, and either by design or pure, gold-plated luck they’re sometimes sexual with (or at) me.  I miss silly, everyday, random bursts of horn.

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Here are a couple of dates when I’m free – sorry for being such a forward-planning diary twat it’s just that I’m very busy and I’d really like to see you so it’s better if we book it a long way in advance. Let me know if either of these works for you. No worries if not!

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This fabulous pegging erotica is written by Molly Moore, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Matt Johnson.

It was there on the bed when I got back from dropping the kids at school. It’s been placed very pointedly on the bed. A message left for me.

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I was introduced to today’s guest blogger, Clara (@author_dunn on Twitter) by another incredible writer, who popped up in my DMs singing the praises of Clara’s cunt-dripping filth. And they were right: her filth is absolutely glorious, I adore it. There’s a softness to the feelings that surround the intensity and directness of the actual fucking, and that kind of writing presses so many of my buttons. I loved it so much I have another piece from Clara coming up in a few weeks too. For now, enjoy this delicious story about birthday sex, Harry Styles and soundtracks to (not) fall in love to…

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