“Argh you’ve ruined porn for me.”

This is often how conversations begin in my house. After talking to the boy about traditional pornographic tropes, and the way some pornographers are challenging them by making ‘female gaze’ porn, he says he cannot see a traditional extreme porn close-up shot without thinking “oh, that’s very male gaze.”

Hence, I have ruined porn.

Thing is, I find it hard not to notice this stuff too. Having learned a bit about female gaze porn (and as most of what I’m learning about porn I’m learning from Pandora Blake, it’d be remiss of me not to link you to her excellent discussion of female gaze in art and pornography), I’m trying to work out exactly what it is that I like about certain scenes and films that utterly turns me off about others. It’s hard to explain exactly what ‘female gaze’ is in just a few words – the idea is that much of our art and entertainment uses a ‘male gaze’ perspective – in which women not so much ‘portrayed’ as ‘ogled’. ‘Female gaze’ on the other hand, tends to take a different approach – trying to use images and story that would work to tell a story either from a female perspective or to a female audience. In ‘female gaze’ porn, it often translates into wider shots, more dialogue, more rounded characters or a greater focus on female pleasure.

What interests me, though, is that while video porn is something that – although traditionally assumed to be a male product – is now being targeted at both genders, when it comes to written erotica, the vast majority of it is marketed solely at women.

Which is ridiculous, when you think about it. Porn is a genre of entertainment like anything else – open to different interpretations and nuance and style, each of which will appeal differently to different people. Like the difference between a traditional retelling of Shakespeare and a Baz Luhrmann film with guns and stabbings and car chases, what makes porn sexy for one person but shit for another often just comes down to how you tell the story.

Here are two stories. Which do you prefer?

Version 1: A story about fucking

Girl meets boy. She’s wet. Soaking wet so you can see the slickness dripping from her open cunt. She’s smiling, enjoying it. Cupping her own tits in her hands as she lies back on the bed. Open. Waiting. Eager.

He’s hard – his broad hands stroke his fat cock as he stands over her – taking in every inch of her silky, taut, nakedness. Her nipples are hard, and he teases them with his prick. Rubbing the end over them as she moans faintly. The wetness from the tip of his cock leaves a trail on her chest, and she runs a finger over it then licks it off. She smiles.

He moves down her body, touching each bit of her – squeezing her tits, pushing the palm of his hand onto her stomach, running his fingers down through her wet slit. She moans. Kneeling between her legs, he spreads her thighs wide, holding the tip of himself against the entrance of the hole he’s about to fuck.

“Please fuck me.” No pause, straight in. The request made and granted almost simultaneously. He plunges himself into her and she squeals, reaching down to grip his arse with her hands. He fucks her – swift strokes that make her tits jiggle and her breath quick. She gasps, moans, and looks down to see his thick cock pushing into her.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

She flips over, presenting her arse for him to fill. As he slides his cock in his big hands grip her, slapping her and leaving red imprints. She moans again, arches her back, pushes herself onto him as he gets closer to coming.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

And it’s there – he pulls out, his dick twitching and glistening with the juices from her cunt. He grips the base and – with measured strokes – rubs out arcing ropes of spunk. They splash over her – drops and pools of come all over her arse. A river drips down the crack of her arse, mixing with the wetness in her cunt. His dick twitches a few more times: a few more drops.

And they’re done.

Version 2: A story about fucking

Girl meets boy. She’s halfway between nervous and excited: watching him undress has her nipples feeling tight and cold, and her cunt aching to be touched. She pulls off her knickers and lies on the bed, all the better to take in the view as he pulls off his clothes. His dick’s hard already – thick and pronounced through his tight black shorts. He hooks both thumbs under the waistband and pulls them down – grinning as he watches her eyes grow wide.

She’s touching herself – she can’t help it. The sordid hotel room and the look of this guy and the excitement of knowing she’s doing something new. She’s squeezing herself – teasing her own nipples as she hopes he will soon – hinting that she needs him near her.

She wins. With his dick in his hand he approaches her on the bed, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm – she likes that. He’s stroking himself and wants to touch her – as he rubs the tip of his cock on her nipples she can’t help but let out a moan. No words as such, but they both know this is a ‘yes please’ moan – an ‘oh God do more’ moan. So he does it again, and she moans again, using a finger to trace the wet trail he’s left on her nipple, and licking it off. Revelling in the fact that she’s done this to him.

He moves down her body, touching every inch of her – making the most of what they both know will only happen once. He cups her tits in his hands and squeezes, the firmness and her moaning making his cock twitch and his stomach kick with excitement. His palms flat on her belly, his fingers trailing down to her cunt – he doesn’t know which of them is more excited. Which more aroused. It probably doesn’t matter: all either of them wants is the culmination of this night: the tipsy flirting, the hands-under-skirts under the table, the whispered ‘fuck me upstairs’ that she gave him in the lift. The ache he’d been carrying, semi-hard, in his trousers from that moment.

He’s kneeling between her open legs, savouring the look of need in her face, the way she arches her back ever so slightly to make it easier for him to enter her.

“Please, fuck me.” She begs, half-smiling half-frowning as she thrusts herself towards his dick. He does – long, hard strokes, filling her up and making her cry out with satisfaction. She shudders with the delicious feeling of fulfillment, and glances down to watch as he works his cock in and out of her.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

He’s close, he can feel it – deep in the pit of his stomach he can feel climax rushing through him. He should pause, he knows, and wait until she’s had more pleasure from him. But the sight of her face twisted into lustful satisfaction, and the sight of her tits jiggling up and down with each stroke it’s… close. It’s tricky. He wants so much to come but he wants to watch her for a bit longer, hear her cries of joy a few more times. Know that he’s doing this: he’s making her cunt twitch and her eyes light up and her nipples tingling and hard.

She flips over, and he takes a second to calm himself. He squeezes the base of his cock. Blinks once, twice, breathes deeply. She’s doing the same – breathing deeply. Reveling in the power she has to take his orgasm from him. She arches her back, pushing her arse out towards the tip of his cock. Groaning loudly as he enters her.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

He bites his lip as he comes – a last-ditch attempt to hold himself back and give himself more time. She grips the pillow with her hands, squeezing it as she’s squeezing him, wanting to milk every drop of enjoyment from this evening. He pulls out, gasping as he reaches the peak of his climax, shooting ropes of spunk over her – twitching from his dick and signalling the end he didn’t want to reach just yet.

She feels the jets of spunk hitting her arse – forceful, strong, and copious – and she aches with delight. She locks the feeling away in her head, as she’s locked the sounds of his grunting gasps and the sensation of his cock tracing the outline of her nipples.

While he’s wishing he’d had more time, she’s pulling up her knickers and wishing herself home. So she can relive her triumph alone.

In a fit of rashness, I recently wrote about how anal sex isn’t just hot because of the purely physical sensations. Most sex is – to my mind – enjoyably filthy because of how you do it. Exactly what you do matters less than the dominant, eager way in which you do it. You can wank me off in a way that both of us find tedious and uninspiring, or with the addition of a few dirty words whispered in my ear and one arm gripping me tightly around the chest, you can rub me off in a way that feels close and filthy.

But, in explaining how sex isn’t just about physical reductionism, I missed a key opportunity to talk about how some very specific physical things make me tense with swooning lust. Today I’m going to talk about feeling full.

Three dudes at once, obviously

The dream, of course, is to have three men at once. Something which, despite my very best efforts, hasn’t happened yet. To have one guy filling my cunt while another pushes deep into my arse, and a final man pushing his dick so deep in my throat that I can barely choke new oxygen down to my lungs.

While I’m enjoying being gagged by one guy, the other two can feel not only the aching throb of my cunt and arse, but the taut force of each other’s dicks, sliding together through my own skin. They fill me so I cry out, and push back onto them – wanting to experience the full length of each of them, as deep as they can possibly go. They fill me so I can’t remember what it felt like to be empty. Until I can’t believe anything else will fit. And then, as one, they come inside me. Vigorously pumping spunk into anywhere it will go, proving that I was ever so slightly easier to fill than I thought.

Sadly, this dream of feeling full of cock will have to be put to one side for now: the logistics of finding three willing men, all of whom I fancy and all of whom fancy both me and each other is a challenge that I am yet to conquer. Besides, double penetration looks easy in porn when all the actors are lithe and athletic and don’t seem to mind one dick slipping out every now and then. In my fantasy this can work exactly how I want it to, with none of those pesky physical limitations to get in the way.

“I can come like this”

In the meantime there’s always option two: the late-night lazy fuck that sees me lying on my stomach, being fucked hard from behind. I can grip the iron bars at the headboard and push back to feel his thick cock stretching me open. I can hear the squirt of lube as he covers his fingers, and feel achingly full as he pushes them into me.

A long time ago a guy did this, during the very last fuck we ever had. He pushed two fingers deep into my ass and groaned as he felt the solid length of his cock through my own skin. His fingertips rubbed the inside of me, simultaneously pressing onto the ridges around the head of his dick. Back and forth, faster and wetter and slicker, as I moaned at the feeling of being full. As he moved faster and faster, rubbing at both me and himself, he grunted, and exclaimed with delight: “I can come like this. Just like this.” A few more back-and-forth movements, the twitch of him deep in my cunt, and I felt all the excitement pour out of him and into me.

I still regret that it was the only time he got to do it. I’d have loved to have more fucking stories that involve him revelling in this new trick, testing new and different ways to jerk himself off through my ass, as I writhed in fullness and squealed delight into the pillow. If you’d like to try doing this but you don’t know anyone to try it with, I’m told there are double-holed masturbators that you can penetrate with both your dick and either your fingers/another object of your choice that will allow you similar sensations.

Filling fucks between just two people

The fingers are hot because he can control the sensation – other things are hot because I can control them myself. The feeling of being full doesn’t always require a stable of willing men or a guy who knows how to use his fingers in just the right way. This is one of the places where a well-made and perfectly shaped sex toy has not just a place in my bedroom but pride of place nestled deep inside me.

Sitting dead still on someone’s cock is fun – the moaning, twitching, desperate need for movement and sensation gives me a feeling of total power and control. I could grind slowly, I could clench all the muscles inside my cunt and watch his eyes grow wide as he feels the whole of me squeezing – hugging – his dick. Even more fun, then, to hold him tight in that position, gripping him with force and power, then slowly push something deep into my ass. Something long and slim, that I can control easily. Something that buzzes and vibrates against the length of him. He can feel what I’m doing as I push it deeper, as I angle it so it shivers down the full length of his cock. And as I do it, I squeeze harder – the better to revel in that full-up sensation.

But having the power is a rare delight – something that’s only fun for me because it happens so infrequently. Far more enjoyable, I think, to have him on top of me – bearing down. The fullness is better when someone else is controlling it, and I’m begging for more of it. His dick in my cunt anchors me in place – I squirm and wriggle on it as he pushes something slim inside my ass. Then something bigger. Then, with a growling whisper, he asks me if I can take more. If he can swap it out for the third most filling item in the trio. Despite knowing that it won’t fit, I’ll always say yes. Please. Do it. Try it. I’ll fail, yet again, but the temptation of finding something that stretches me out to the point I know I can’t feel fuller is just too much to resist.

When I fail at the largest one, we’ll step it down again, and I’ll enjoy knowing that I very nearly made it.

Can you come from ‘filling’ sex?

Does it make me come, though? This specific, hot, physical sensation? Of course. Although there’s nothing biologically that says ‘this will thrill the nerve endings in just the right way’, the feeling of being stretched and full adds to all the other things that are going on – the sensation of his dick pushing against the inside of me, the sound of him breathing heavily, telling me I’m so good for taking it. The gentle slaps on my arse, sucking bites at my nipples, rough hands gripping my hips to pull me further back onto him. All of these build, one wave on top of another, eventually pushing me over the edge of arousal and into that rushing, twitching, gagging choke of orgasm.

My final, and favourite trick is the one that brings me there most quickly: crouched on my knees, with my face pushed hard into the bedsheets, his dick dripping with lube and deep inside me, and my hands working busily to push something hard into my cunt. A rabbit vibrator, usually. Despite it’s often twee connotations, it has exactly what I’m after: length and girth to fill me up, and the added bonus of a vigorous buzz directly against my aching clit. I’ll hold it there, right up to the hilt, a still and solid anchor to clench down on, while he fucks up hard against it until he comes. 

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I’m not talking about the sparks that fly when you meet the eye of a hot person across a crowded room: this is about real electricity. Sparks and stimulation of the purely physical kind.

There’s a type of sex toy that used to utterly terrify me: electric sex toys. The idea of these is to use electrical current to produce sensations – either for pain, pleasure, or a shuddery mixture of both.

I’m a wuss

Some people are adventurous types: the kind who’ll suggest drunken skinny-dipping at midnight or taking drugs then listening to albums backwards. Because I don’t want you to get the mistaken impression than I’m exciting, I should tell you that I am not one of these people – I’m the sort of twat who ruins adventures by asking about health and safety.

So when I was first introduced to electric sex toys, at an erotic convention many years ago, I was initially reluctant to even hold them in my hands, much less to let someone hold them against my cunt. They put an electric current through you! Like… plugs! I’ve always been told not to put my fingers in a plug socket, so I assumed that shoving a livewire inside me might be a bit of a bad idea.

I didn’t realise what I was missing out on until someone decided to push my fear a bit further than I’d thought they would.

Brace yourself

It was a bright sunny afternoon – not the kind of atmosphere I’d normally look for in a terrifying BDSM scene, but you get what you’re given when it’s real life. I was roasting hot, as was he, as were all the other people in the room we played in. I won’t tell you what the full scene was – that might be for another day – but in the microcosm that existed over in one corner, this guy had me strung up by my wrists, frilly dress lifted to my waist, naked from hips to toes.

He circled me in a deliciously menacing way, and tightened the rope that was keeping my arms in the air. It stretched and creaked, and I ended up standing on tiptoes to try and balance. Doing a series of less-than-graceful semi-hops to stay in control, I was pretty nervous about what he’d do next.

Then he blindfolded me.

I love blindfolds. I love the anticipation of what might happen next – what might be happening already, that I just can’t see. When all I can do is hear, everything sounds like fun. That swishing sound – was he getting out a whip? Was he removing his belt? The footsteps – is he coming round behind me? Then suddenly – the rough feel of his hands all over me, pulling down the top of my dress and pinching my nipples. Touching me all over. Slapping my face.

“Do you trust me?”

Yes. Obviously.

“Do you want me to hurt you?”

Oh God yes. I wanted him to wield a whip – lashing my legs and arse as I staggered to keep my balance. I wanted riding crops, straps, belts, whishing-slapping sounds and stinging pain.

But, being an experienced dominant – as opposed to someone I could easily wrap around my stroppy little finger – he didn’t give me exactly what I wanted. He introduced me to something new.

“This might feel… unusual.”

Then I heard a sound that was somewhere between a click and a crack. No ‘whish’ to announce the arrival of the pain, just a snapping sound and the immediate rush of a stabbing tingle high up on one of my thighs.

I leapt away from him, my tiptoes carrying me as far away from where I thought he was as possible: tripping, nearly losing my balance, trying to take the weight on my wrists and force myself back into control. He circled me for a bit longer, and I turned round to try and work out where he was, where the next shock was coming from.

“Did you like that?”

Yes. No. Wait, maybe. Do it again.

Crack. Tingle. Why was it hot? It was hot because it was so different. So… odd. And because I couldn’t hear where it was coming from. I was blindfolded, nervous, off-balance, and completely at his mercy.

Where he touched me my muscles clenched, and I felt even more off-balance. I don’t know if it was to do with the pain or the spasm, but he’d clearly chosen well. For this position, with me balancing precariously and trembling uncertainly, this toy was the perfect thing to knock me off-guard. The whack of a crop was expected. A belt last would be something I could anticipate and push back against. Given my determination not to fail him I could probably even have taken cane strokes. But electricity? Twitching? Forced tingles and that weird static crackling sound? That was too much. I wobbled, and tripped, and felt the rope biting into my wrists as my legs gave way.

I loved being beaten, being fucked and used, but I very rarely lost control. By using something completely new and different, this guy made me do  just that.

Fuck me with power

It’s not necessarily about the physical sensation: after we’d finished he let me play with it, pressing those weird static crackles into the palm of my hand. They sounded loud, and tingled a bit, but didn’t hurt as much as I thought they would. The toy itself clearly had way more bark than bite.  The sensations and the joy and the fear running hot through my trembling legs was clearly about the power. Using something completely unique gave him much more power over me.

The one time I got to turn the tables and use an electrastim dildo on a willing gentleman, I made sure that the physical sensations were way more than just an aside. With insertable electric sex toys, the focus is more on what the electricity does to the muscles. The way it twitches them, contorts them, and allows you to bend someone’s involuntary actions to your will.

As the guy lay on the bed, myself and an electrastim expert hovering over him, he looked up at me with very wide surprised eyes as his ass twitched hard and tight around the dildo we’d plugged him with.

“Oh… umm… fuck.”

“Good ‘fuck’ or bad ‘fuck’?”

He paused. Twitched. Turned his big eyes on me again. I reached to turn down the voltage.

“No no no. Good fuck.”

I turned it up.

By the end of the day we had him weeping with a cross between joy and misery, exhausted on the bed yet denied an orgasm, head spinning with all the things we’d inflicted on him. It was a different kind of control – being able to move his muscles at will. But as not all of it’s strictly electricity-related, I’ll leave that story for another time. For now I’ll leave you with the mental image of me, naked from the waist down, lashed to the ceiling by my wrists, sobbing “thank you for doing that weird, weird thing” as my kind dominant friend planted kisses on my neck.

Pain is hot. But so is power.

 

UPDATE: I have now tried full-on electro sex toys, from my site sponsors ElectraStim, and they are fucking exceptional. I have no idea what I was afraid of. Check out my post on having an electric vagina, using an electric dick-sheath and a brand new bit of kit that allows you to feel the thump of a particularly banging tune throbbing from a butt plug inside my arse. 

Yesterday I promised I would take questions from anyone and then answer all of them. This was initially a bit scary as, given my lack of any other redeeming features, I use my mystery as a way to cultivate a vague sense of allure. So I am aware that any question about love, emotion, or things other than my cunt will rip away just a tiny bit of that mystery and make me a more relatable, yet inevitably less exciting person.

Still, I was delighted by the sheer variety of what was asked: from strap-ons to sexy comic books, the hottest places in London and how to make your submissive gag, the sex blog questions you all submitted were incredibly diverse and very fun to answer. In no particular order, here’s the full Q&A. If there’s anything else you’d like to ask, or if you’ve got a better answer than mine, please do leave a comment – you can comment anonymously if you like.

How much effect does sex have on love, rather than vice versa?

I love this question, because it’s usually asked the other way around: “is sex better if you’re in love?” Here it seems like you’re asking whether I’m more or less likely to fall in love with someone if they are amazing in bed. To which the answer is: “oh holy God yes.” In fact, if you are stunning in bed, I am likely to fall in love with you even if you are a total arsehole.

This has got me into scrapes in the past when my rational mind has accepted that a particular guy is basically a bit of a tedious wanker, but he has done something so filthy-hot that I can’t keep my mind off him. If you’ve read my book, you might know which guy I mean.

I think we’re often sold a massive lie about sex and love, which is that love conquers all, matters more than sex, and that if we’re in love sex itself fades into the background and becomes meaningless and unimportant. This might well be true for some people, but it is not true for me at all. Sex enhances, drives, and impacts on my love in a very significant way: if I can’t fuck someone I will struggle to love them. If I fuck someone and it works perfectly, I will be convinced I’m in love with them.

This makes it very difficult if I have a relationship problem that’s primarily sexual (for instance, if I’m with a guy whose sex drive isn’t as high as mine) because I feel like I’m being unreasonable for making sex a primary issue, and I feel that I’m a bit wrong in the head for caring so much about it. My rational mind knows this is wrong – we are who we are, and we all have different priorities. So these days I am likely to throw a bit of a shitfit if someone tells me I should suck up my sexual frustration and just enjoy the cuddles.

Are there any missed opportunities that you regret?

Yes, a million. But only one that really stands out. Before I lost my virginity I was in love with my best friend. I lusted and ached after him for years, but he didn’t show any interest at all. I’d almost put all my feelings to bed when one day, out of the blue, he propositioned me. After a day of teenaged flirting he told me he was horny, and that I’d made him that way, and used a cheesy line to ask me: “what are you going to do about it?”

Adult me would leap upon that opportunity and hump it until its eyes rolled back. Teenage me had no idea what to do. She stuttered, and ummed and aahhed, and eventually suggested that we head back to the house to watch a film. I probably could have had sex with him if I’d played that right, but instead I settled for sitting agonisingly close to him while we watched some crap B movie about monkeys, and I swear to God he could probably hear the thudding of regretful lust in my cunt.

I’d love to see a blog on what you think of guys in bands. Just curious.

I think two things about guys in bands. Firstly, people who play musical instruments are badass-sexy, because they have a skill that I don’t, and I can watch their beautiful hands manipulating instruments in a way that I never could. If they can sing, my heart will crack and I will be in love with them for every single second they are on stage.

Secondly, people who are in bands are often music twats. And I use ‘twat’ here in the a very specific way to mean ‘someone who knows more than I do about something I couldn’t care less about.’ I know nothing about what I am going to patronisingly scare-quote “popular” music or “indie” music, or any genre of music, and if you ask me what I think of a particular band I will probably say “who?” then wander off and turn on Radio 4. I like a tune, and I like good lyrics, but if you try and recommend music to me my eyes will glaze over and I will nod along until I can reach for a gin to take the pain away.

So in conclusion: guys in bands are super-hot, and in fact anyone who can play a musical instrument gets a double-thumbs-up from me, but if you try to talk to me about music we will both be disappointed.

What would win in a fight between a wolverine and a honey badger?

Honey badgers always win, don’t they? I thought that was basically the point of them.

Filthiest, kinkiest, most depraved porn you’ve ever masturbated over?

I’m torn here – if I say something deeply depraved you’ll all think me an awful person, and if I say something relatively tame you’ll go ‘huh, but you’re a sex blogger – you must be the filthiest porn-watcher in the world!’ Such are the rocks and hard places of sex blogging.

I suspect that my porn tastes are relatively tame compared to many – I tend to focus on the sounds and the faces people make rather than the specific scenarios, just because I am a fan of any scenario that could be described as ‘pretty rough sex that all participants are demonstrably enjoying.’

But here are a couple of examples of slightly odder things:

• Sections of the children’s book Heidi – when I was younger any scene that involved corporal punishment in a school set me off.
• A video of a guy jerking off while wearing a nappy. I rubbed one out to that a few times. To be honest, the nappy didn’t do much for me (although it clearly did for him), the reason this video featured so highly on my ‘to wank’ list was because when he came he made an absurdly delicious grunting noise. Unngh.
• The most excellent milk video (link at the bottom of this post), which is still – to my mind – the best bit of porn on the internet.

Natural smell of a man or something out of a bottle?

Oh both – definitely both. The combination of hot man-sweat-smell and bottled uniqueness makes my head spin and my knees go weak. Initially I wanted to answer ‘sexy man sweat’ but then I remembered I’d once followed a guy round a shopping centre for about half an hour because he smelled of teenage sex and I couldn’t work out why. The answer, it turns out, was that he was wearing Joop. For similar reasons, a man wearing Hugo Boss will make me feel angsty and sad about University days, and have a desperate urge to shag some doe-eyed Uni student with a strap-on.

What is the best native mustelid?

Otters. They’re cute.

When I scratch it it bleeds, when I don’t scratch it it tells me to burn things. Should I continue to scratch it?

God no, just make sure you have lots of firewood to hand. Or some flash paper. Flash paper is fun.

Do you like to be the big spoon or the little spoon?

Little spoon. Can’t get enough of those late-night and early-morning boners poking into my arse.

Your thoughts on Sex Criminals (it’s a comic book btw, I wasn’t referring to actual people)

I have never read it, but having read the synopsis on Wikipedia, I might have to start.

I don’t have much confidence when it comes to sex, verbally/emotionally abusive boyfriends in my past left me unsure and afraid to ask/suggest what I want. How do I become more confident about asking for what I want (like spanking or being tied up or tying him up)?  How do I make it clear without making a guy feel like whatever else he was doing was no good?

Right, firstly, sorry you’ve had such horrible experiences in the past – although I firmly believe most humans are generally nice people who are doing their best, there are a number of total arseholes out there and it sounds like you’ve run a fairly harrowing gauntlet of them.

To answer your question – I think everyone responds to these things a bit differently, and I’d broach this topic differently with any partner just depending on how they tend to react to things and their overall character. But as a general rule, I find the best way to communicate about sex is always to emphasise the positive – make the absolute most of things you love, and make sure to tell him ‘holy fuck that’s hot’ whenever he does something ace. That way, you can give him a boost with loads of enthusiasm, and when you venture forth with ‘could you do this a bit differently?’ he’s unlikely to take it too badly, or feel like he’s doing everything wrong, because he has all the evidence of your ‘hell yes’ responses to other things he does.

Once you’re in that zone, it tends to feel a bit more natural to chat about the stuff you love. You don’t have to come straight out with ‘can I tie you to a radiator?’ if you’re nervous, but you can definitely start a more general chat: ‘what do you like most about what we do? Is there anything you’d like to do more of?’ and that can lead fairly neatly on to ‘I love this too – would be ace if we could try it a bit more like this.’ Having a more general discussion, and encouraging him to talk about this stuff, should help you build your confidence a bit. Does that help? If anyone else has suggestions, please leave them in the comments!

How do you get over someone who was really good in bed?

Ouch. That’s a tricky one. There’s one guy who I will never fully get over, partly because we were so sexually compatible that just thinking about him now gives me fuck-flashbacks. Again if you’ve read my book, you’ll probably know which one I’m talking about.

I can’t answer for everyone, but for me the answer was time – although we were (and still are) good friends, I can’t spend too much time with him, and ‘getting over’ him consisted of having the willpower and sheer bloody-mindedness to avoid seeing him while I got my head together, used my awesome cunt-powers on other hot guys, and getting myself to a point where I could comfortably sit in the same room as him without dribbling down my shirt.

Ways not to get over someone who’s really good in bed include: trying to find someone who is good in bed in exactly the same way. I gave this a bit of a go, by looking for guys who were bi-curious like he was, had similar body types, etc, and trying to persuade them to do similar things with me. This was a total disaster, because everyone has their own sexual style, and what’s hot is discovering the things they actually enjoy doing rather than encouraging them to do the exact things my ex did.

Do strapless strap-ons actually work properly?

That very much depends on what you mean by ‘properly’ – they work differently. I’ve tried one before that was a bit like this. I can get the bit at my end in, and I can hold it there, and I can sort of thrust in and out. But as far as I’m aware they’re supposed to be providing pleasure to me as well as the person I’m fucking with them, and my sweaty panic that it’s about to fall out coupled with the wobbly nature of the thing itself that means I can’t ram quite as hard as I (or he) would like, so I’m not personally a fan. In looking for that link, though, I have spotted this, which comes with an anal bit as well – I imagine that works as a kind of double-anchor that should make it a bit easier to keep in, so if you’re wedded to the idea of a strapless one, that might work quite nicely.

However, so that I don’t end up sounding down on strap-ons in general (I fucking love them, and I should do a full post about this at some point) I would recommend a strapped strap-on that also has a going-insidey bit (sorry to bombard you with technical terms) or a strap-on that doesn’t have anything at all that goes inside my cunt (I have something like this, but with a black harness, because it’s sturdy and the harness makes my arse look spectacular). To be honest if I’m fucking a guy with a strap-on it’s a fairly dominant thing, and I’d rather not be too distracted by my own desire to get frigged.

How can I make my sub gag without using my dick?

OK, so I would never presume to tell you what someone else would find hot – these are all just things I’ve enjoyed in the past. So if you are looking to follow any of this advice, I’d recommend discussing these with your sub beforehand, showing him/her this list, and working out which (if any) would hit their sweet spot.

As with all hot and violent BDSM, consent and communication is key. It depresses me that if I don’t explicitly say that I get comments from people saying “but you didn’t tell people they need consent!”, because I’d assume that all rational, decent humans would just fucking know. Anyway. Here are some ways I like to do gagging stuff, that might appeal to you too.

– fingers. This is a classic one, and basically just consists of ‘stick your fingers down their throat’. I have previously had guys do this to me while their dick is in me, because they enjoy the twitching of my cunt around their dick as I retch. But if you don’t have a dick, it still works for the gagging.

– dildo. Another classic, and one of the reasons why it’s always helpful to have a dildo on hand. The first time someone did this to me I didn’t understand the point of it: why am I going to suck off a cock that isn’t attached to a human who can feel it? Then he told me: “suck this right down into the back of your throat and hold it there while I beat you.” And I got the point pretty quickly.

– strap-on. See my above recommendations for strap-ons, and remember that they are not just for ladies. I know you’re a Dom, mystery questioner, but if you have any submissive tendencies at all, I can thoroughly recommend being made to wear a strap-on over your actual dick, and being forced to screw someone with it. I did this a few times with a guy I used to know, and his miserable lack of stimulation coupled with my grinding, gushing arousal had him borderline weeping with the sheer submissive joy of it. What were we talking about again? Oh yes, gagging. It works for that too. And I suspect is also a bit more humiliating for your sub (if they are into that sort of thing) purely because they’re not even giving you pleasure, just doing it because you’re making them.

– cake. No one has ever done this to me, despite all the hints I have dropped about how much I fucking love cake. But I was told by a friend that she once had a guy shove cake into her mouth while he was fucking her from behind, and she gagged on the sticky chocolate overload while twitching with cringing humiliation at how much food was smeared over her face. I repeat: I have never done this, and I would urge extreme caution (choking hazard etc), but I would very much like someone to do this to me. Not with lemon drizzle cake, though: we have to keep some things sacred.

– water. “I’m off for a shower,” I told him, to which he replied “I’ll come with you.” What followed was a truly delicious hour or so in which he used almost everything in the bathroom to humiliate, abuse, and generally defile me. He pushed me into the bath and pissed on me, making me look into his eyes and thank him while he did. He pushed a shower head up against my cunt until I was squirming with a desperate need to come, and then – the bit you’ve probably been waiting for – he filled the sink, bent me over, pushed my face under the water while he fucked me. I tapped out regularly, and he’d let me up to breathe, before pushing me back down again until I was dripping wet, defeated, and gasping. Then he let me come. 

Sexiest place in London?

There are a couple of alleys I’ve fucked in, and there’s a strip club I used to go to that has a seedy and delightful air of desperate men. Either of these places would probably be near to the top of my list, but I can’t tell you where they are in case I want to frequent them again. There’s also a pub which I associate with threesomes, a pub which I associate with the first time I fucked my current boy, and a pub which I associate with the illicit thrill of shagging a guy I shouldn’t have.

Given enough time, I could create a Google Map of all the places in London that turn me on, but they’re all hot because of the association rather than the place itself. So instead I’ll give you the top three places I’d love to fuck in:

• In the ‘oh so many satellites’ room at the Science Museum. It’s just my favourite bit of the Science Museum. Failing that, under the massive dinosaur in the entrance to the Natural History museum.
• Behind the Big Ben clock – I took a tour around it once, and you have to wear earplugs when the bell tolls because it’s so loud. I liked the idea of ‘hiding’ just behind the clock face, and fucking to try and come just before the bell starts to toll.
• Somewhere on the banks of one of the many London canals. Ideally near The Palm Tree pub, so we can have a pint afterwards.

Unsexiest place in London?

Shoreditch. And that’s not just because it’s fun to slag off Shoreditch, it’s because it is one of the few places I go where people who think they are cooler, more awesome, and more beautiful than I am will pass judgement upon me.

Sexiest/unsexiest place in England/ Britain in general?

Sexiest: Bristol. Again because of the personal associations I have with it. Bristol was the place I was introduced to BDSM, strap-on sex, getting fucked with the neck of a wine bottle, watching a hot guy get called “pup” before being heartily beaten by a dominant who let me take pictures, and much more besides. It’s the place I had my first (and best) guy/guy/girl threesome – every single moment of which is burned into my mind and labelled ‘best day ever’.

Unsexiest? Probably anywhere I have never been, because it would never have any of those associations. Confession: despite a desperate urge to go to the Edinburgh Festival, I have never been to Scotland. To ensure it doesn’t get relegated to ‘unsexiest place’ I should go there soon, and have sex on one of its many beautiful hills.

How do you deal with jealousy in an open relationship? Especially if one partner is getting more than the other?

Christ on horseback, I have no idea how to answer this. I know some people can, and do, deal very well with these kinds of issues, and manage to have successful open relationships. I’m not one of them, though. I’ve been in open, or open-ish, relationships in the past and have been torn between wanting to cry with happiness and wanting to tear the world apart. Usually in an open relationship I get more than he does, probably because I seek it with more determination, and maybe partly because I have a fair few male friends who I’ve slept with before who I can easily call on if I’m horny and fancy something a bit different.

So here’s how it usually goes down:

– Oh my God I can shag whoever I like! Awesome! *texts loads of guys and arranges dates*

– Current partner gets a bit sad: “Why aren’t you spending more time with me?”

– I panic, spend more time with current partner. Get stressed because life is too busy.

– I encourage partner to go and date or shag someone else.

– He dates or shags someone else.

– I LOSE MY FUCKING SHIT, cry, tremble, worry that I will die alone, beat myself up with guilt about my emotional hypocrisy.

– He says “OK, I won’t shag anyone else.”

– I stop shagging other people, because I feel bad about the discrepancy.

– I stare wistfully at men on trains, wondering what their dicks look like.

So in answer to your question: “how do you deal with jealousy in open relationships?” the answer is: I don’t. I don’t deal with it at all, and that is why I have never had a successful open relationship. But fuck it, I have had some spectacularly fun relationships, even if they are punctuated by whirlpools of fucked-up angsty panic. Perhaps someone who does deal well with this would like to contribute an answer in the comments?

What are your thoughts on cuckoldry, cuckqueaning and chastity (male and female)?

See above answer for my thoughts on cuckqueaning: a guy I love fucking other people is not a turn-on for me at all, although I can see how it would be for some people. A guy I love fucking other guys while I watch? Hell yes. A guy I love fucking other guys then telling me hot stories about it later? Probably. But anything other than that and I’m liable to cry and stamp my feet like a spoilt child yelling “but it’s MINE and I don’t want to SHARE it!”

Cuckoldry is… OK, yes, this is super-hot. A guy getting turned on by me fucking other dudes? Yes. And, in fact, I know a gentleman who did have a bit of a thing for this. In fact, he introduced me to the idea that it could be super-hot, by describing in detail an angry, shoulder-shaking crywank that he had shortly after he found out I was sleeping with someone new. The idea of him being simultaneously heartbroken and painfully aroused gave me slick knickers and a mental image I couldn’t shake for a week. Subsequently he did fun things such as drive me to other guys’ houses so they could spank me, while he waited outside in the car, throbbing and hard with pain and desperate to hear all about my filthy escapades.

Chastity, again, is hot when it’s done to guys. Mainly because I love how hard a dick can get when it’s not used for a while, and the aching, beautiful agony of submissive guys begging to come. When you tease a guy to the point of climax, then hold off, then do it again, and again, and then make him wait until tomorrow… his dick leaks. It leaks a delicious ambrosia of fucklust. Mmm.

Any more sex blog questions?

I’ve got a bit of time tomorrow, so if you have anything else just drop it in the comments below. I realise this blog is a bit self-indulgent and meta, but I get lots of questions via email and I don’t always have time to answer them all, so doing it this way means I am now publicly accountable and therefore compelled to answer things. It’ll give me a kick up the arse, and means if there are any topics you want me to cover on the blog in future, you can plant the sexy seeds of thought into my mind now, and it might prompt me to remember a hot story, like the bathroom-sink fucking, or the nappy wank video.