Despite the best efforts of cinema and TV to convince us human beings can be smooth in seduction, most of the time we’re as ham-fisted at that as we are at everything else. Flailing around and trying to act cool when really we’ve no idea what the actual fuck we’re doing. Which is why it’s lovely to encounter someone who manages to pull off a smooth transition: from hanging out to making out, with no pissing about in the middle.

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Back in August last year, I wrote a post called ‘love is an addiction’. In that blog, which I typed up as a distraction to help me hold off the urgent, all-encompassing desire to text my ex-boyfriend, I said this…

“It feels like trying to quit smoking – an exercise as vital as it is futile, at which I have failed every single time I’ve tried. But I still haven’t sent that text so now I wonder if the wasted, flabby muscle that might once have been my willpower is growing with each passing day. Perhaps every text I compose and do not send builds that muscle up – flexes it, makes it stronger. Maybe if I can make it through the next six months, I can make that muscle strong enough that it’ll haul me through to the end of my smoking addiction. Wouldn’t that be a thing?”

Well, here’s a thing: I quit smoking.

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Regular readers might remember a post I wrote a while ago called ‘why you should let me borrow your boyfriend.’ It was tongue-in-cheek but so far has yielded some pretty spectacular results. Not only some awesome hot fun for me, but also some fruitful (i.e. ‘horny’) discussion with others that eventually led to this guest blog. Please welcome today’s guest blogger, Max, who is here to tell you about how his wife lent him to her best friend to fulfil her sexual needs…

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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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If you’ve ever tried to hunt down my Real Life Identity, you probably know one thing for sure: my name is not Sarah. Sarah is the name I used in my books, and it’s the one I use when talking to journalists about sex blogging, if they aren’t comfortable calling me ‘Girl’ or ‘GOTN’. It’s the helpful comfort blanket I wrap around myself to maintain my anonymity: a tasty morsel of reality with which to distract people who might look further. But there comes a point when ‘helpful’ nudges into ‘deceptive’ territory. Notably, when I’m shagging someone.

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