Today I’m obsessed with risky sex. The kind that gets your heart hammering in time to the thud of your crotch, as you fuck with a nebulous yet oh-so-urgent deadline. Get it over with before the others find you.

Risky sex. Like the snatched gropes you have in crowded places, or the slightly-more-than-that which teenagers do on the bus.

Sex you have not because you’re too horny to get a room, but because the thrill of being discovered makes it all feel more illicit.

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My new book is (nearly) out! If you like you can pre-order it here. And if you’d like a signed copy there’s a link for that too. I know, exciting! I spent Friday in my publishers’ office signing things, and doing interviews, and being a bit overwhelmed about the whole thing.

I suck at publicity, because I get shy and go ‘oh I wouldn’t want to trouble you’, but this post is here to give a bit of info and to say that if you’re a journalist/writer/blogger and you’d like to talk about my book, or interview me or what have you, that would be amazing. Just get in touch.

For those of you who are just bloody lovely and want to buy it when it’s out, please do subscribe to my blog – I’ll send an email out on 10th March when the book launches officially. You can also win one of 10 signed copies if you subscribe – details, Ts and Cs below.

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Very quick ‘two things’ update this week. An amazing piece of writing on intimacy, followed by a weird rant in the Guardian about marriage. Click, read, comment etc – and if you do spot things that you think I should be featuring in my Monday posts, then please do recommend stuff in the comments.

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Spent ages trying to come up with a fun title for this, and I just kept coming back to the most descriptive one: double penetration with a strap-on and a cock.

Because

a) that’s exactly what happened and

b) it was one of the best things I have ever done. Ever.

I’d like to say that double penetration with a strap-on and a cock is a normal Saturday night in my house, but that would be downplaying the gravity and excitement of the situation. Last week, I finally managed to do something I’ve been wanting to do for years.

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Everything that happens in this blog post is consensual. But it involves two people exploring consensual non-consent fantasies, so please be aware before you read. 

I love a good bedtime story. Ideally a story told in hushed whispers, with his lips pressed right up against my ear and his hand rummaging eagerly at my cunt.

It’s probably frustrating, when you’re getting hot and hard and ready, to have your partner pause for a break in proceedings to ask for a bedtime story. But there’s something about a sexy story that gets me wetter than a hand could. The plot, the fucking itself, the veiled implication that these are things he would do to me if he could…

Yeah. I like sexy stories.

Most of the time, bedtime stories take the form of memories or future plans.

“Remember when we…?”

“Have you ever wanted to..?”

And they’re great. But they’re different. I’m talking here about real bedtime stories – scripts he writes in his head, with the express purpose of turning me on.

Here’s one of my favourites.

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