I’m absolutely gleeful about today’s guest post, team! And not just because it has one of the best closing lines of any guest blog I’ve ever published, but also because the message is something we could all do with hearing. We have all been given various cultural scripts about what sex is and how we should be doing it, often feeling like we’re ‘doing sex wrong’ if things don’t happen for us the way they do for characters in porn, TV, films, and elsewhere in our cultural stories. If you’ve read my blog for any length of time you’ll know that un-learning these scripts (unpicking, unpacking, dismantling, rewriting) is a valuable thing to do in order to embrace our true desires. But how the hell does one go about doing that? Today’s fabulous guest blogger explains her search for good sex…

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This fabulous (and clever!) piece that turns testing sex toys into a super horny erotic scene is written and read by The Barefoot Sub. 

The doorbell shrieked, cutting through the static of my empty head! I’d been staring at a blank screen for what felt like hours, the cursor blinking away on the screen as I wracked my brain, attempting to get the words out. Waiting for my local courier to drop off my sinful delivery, certain I was distracted by the pleasure to come. Surely this was it? Though the regular driver would usually leave it in my safe space. Jumping up, I went to see who it was.

“Sophie,” I beamed, “you decided to take me up on the offer of a cuppa? Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

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This fabulous sexy snippet about the cane is written by Sirensgrace from Fetlife, and it’s read here by Girl on the Net. 

The cane lands across my ass with a sharp crack, pushing a moan from my lips.

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This glorious story about being used as a set of fuck-holes is written and read by the fabulous Sundial, and originally appeared on her website. 

And here I am, a nearly naked shackled X bent at the middle. The lower part of the X is formed by my gorgeous new spreader bar. My ankles are wrapped in the supple leather that are its cuffs, unable to move. My torso is laid face down on the table. My arms are stretched out, tits squashed under me. My wrists are secured in leather shackles which you (rather ingeniously) attached with belts to the legs at the far end of table, forming the upper part of the X. There is no give at all, I cannot move.

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I saw something the other day that really tickled me: a screenshot of a message from a guy on an app which promised to make a woman come ‘harder than she ever had before.’ That’s quite the promise, especially from a complete stranger. On every level it’s a silly thing to say to someone who you haven’t even met in the flesh: what if you don’t have compatible chemistry when you actually meet up? What if she struggles with anorgasmia? What if she’s never had an orgasm at all? You’re making so many assumptions, not to mention writing a sex cheque so large that you just don’t stand a hope in hell of cashing it, thus guaranteeing yourself the most awkward morning after of your entire life. The guy sending her a message has to believe not only that he’s better than any other lover she might have had (including those with whom she’d had loads of sex, and therefore loads of practice learning each other’s bodies), but also that he’s better than every single wank she’s had as well. As I say, it tickled me. But rather than write a long post about the follies of being One Of These Guys, I thought I’d have a go at illustrating by example why this is such a silly claim, because last night I had an incredibly powerful orgasm myself, and while lying in the afterglow of that formidable release it occurred to me just how many things had to align in order for such a fiercely brilliant climax to occur. Here’s how to make me come harder than I ever have before.

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