Sometimes I want to arouse you. Sometimes I want to rant at you. I always want to entertain you. But occasionally I want to disgust you.

Partly because I think it’s important to highlight the fucking weird things we all do sometimes, because it makes everyone else feel a bit less weird about themselves. Partly because we’re constantly – constantly – told that experimenting with our bodies or enjoying them is dirty and bad and wrong (especially if we’re women).

But mostly because so much of what we think about sex is based on knee-jerk reactions, and when our knee-jerk reaction is one of disgust it’s worth examining why we feel disgusted. Is there a rational reason for it? Or is it, like that dildo made from human ashes, just something we condemn because our gut tells us we should?

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I will never not be fascinated by jizz. It’s probably the topic I’ve covered most often here – from the best places to jizz to the weird questions I’ve asked about it.

Perhaps it’s because I can’t produce it myself, or because I sense a similar fascination in guys – that agony of choice when you decide where to do it, and how, and when.

But let’s talk about the only frustration I have with spunk: that there is never – can never be – enough.

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Fun fact: I once spent an entire week wanking to nothing other than a gif someone had made of a particular moment in a homemade porn film, where the woman squeezed her eyes tight shut and grinned as the guy emptied an astonishingly generous load all over her face. Let’s talk about facials, shall we?

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This week’s guest blogger is Katrina England – she writes erotica (which is available on Amazon) and she’s here to talk to you about something I’ve waxed lyrical about before – spunk. Spaff, cum, come, jizz, or whatever you want to call it: if you’re a fan then you’ll love Katrina’s guest blog, in which she explains – in detail – why she has a cum fetish…

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Ten minutes after we’ve fucked, I cough. Inevitably, thick teaspoons of lukewarm spoodge dribble down into my knickers.

I.

Love.

This.

Feeling.

It is not for the physical sensation: a very similar effect is released when I’ve put my pants on after a bath. The wetness gushes slightly quicker, but as it seeps through my crotch the feelings I get are more annoyance than delight.

When it’s spunk, though? I am down with that: it’s like a souvenir. (more…)