“Tell me a sexy story,” I asked him, and he thought for a full three seconds before saying:

“OK. Picture the scene: you’re wandering past a bar, and inside there’s a raucous group of guys out on the town for a stag do…”

Although the reality of the British Stag Do is often cunt-witheringly unsexy, there’s potential there that he recognises as something I may well enjoy. It’s not just the fact that there’s a large number of men, although naturally I am a fan of any situation in which I am the sole sexual outlet for a gang of eager guys. There’s something about the stag do specifically that flicks that switch.

It’s often taken as a given that straight blokes will be keen on cheerleading squads, women’s hockey teams, and all the rest of it. They want to see the cotton-panty-clad pillow fights and soapy shower scenes that definitely happen when women get together (and they do, I promise. Like, that is literally all me and my mates ever do when we get together. Pyjama-clad romping, excessive giggling and showing each other our fannies). Yet when I have, on occasion, mentioned my desire to be wined and dined and slapped and tickled by an entire university rugby team, men I am with have expressed some degree of surprise.

I am thinking about this a lot recently, because I have got very solidly into a brand new trashy reality-TV show called ‘SAS: Who Dares Wins’ and apparently my overtly sexual running commentary on the programme is somewhere between ‘dogged’ and ‘aggressive.’ Long story short: I want to fuck all the men who are in it, over and over, until their dicks are raw and they can barely muster a single drop of wrung-out spunk.

(more…)