Some men have worried in the past that they’re not able to dispense exactly the kind of love that I crave – i.e. relentless praise, on an almost minute-by-minute basis, lest I wilt like a houseplant you’ve forgotten to water. To be honest, I often find myself worrying about this too. In an ideal world I’d be the recipient of an almost constant stream of written, physical and verbal encouragement – reminders that I’m sexy, fun, valid, wanted, loved. A good girl. I need this kind of thing so much that those I rely on to help me feel loved might think it borderline sarcastic to plough on even during the (frequent) periods when I’m not doing much to deserve it. I understand this. But there are other ways to make me feel loved, and one of the ways I practice love in return is by noticing and mentioning them…

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This incredible story about giving head like a goddess and getting fucked like a slut is written and read by Sundial, and originally appeared on her website. 

Kneeling naked at your feet I look up into your eyes.

“Be a good girl for me and we’ll get you off.”

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The first time I tried to get this man to hold my hand, we were walking beside a London canal in the early evening darkness. I thought it was romantic – the lights reflected off the water, the gentle strolling pace, the early days of a relationship that felt extremely exciting. The first time I tried to hold his hand he let me do it for exactly half a second before pulling away and announcing “I’m not much of a hand-holding person, actually.” It was useful feedback, of course, and I respect how good he is at articulating his boundaries. However, as I explained ten seconds after I’d collapsed into awkward giggles, he could have said it a little more quietly… so the guy walking past at that exact moment didn’t witness my humiliating rejection. I tell you this only so you can see that the man in question here is not, traditionally, a hand-holding kinda guy. He’ll do it if we’re sitting on the sofa, but when we’re out and about the closest he comes to a PDA is the odd subtle smack on my arse or a peck on the lips. He doesn’t like being publicly affectionate, and would rather save certain types of physical contact for when we’re alone. Fair play.

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This fabulous true story about fucking his hand is written by Charlotte Bayes and read as audio by Sherryl Blu. This is part 2, so catch up on part 1 – primed to fuck – if you want them in order. Note that this story contains consensual choking and rough sex.

Last week I missed my writing appointment. I rarely feel guilty about missing a commitment as I have very few morals and no conscience. But I did genuinely feel bad about it as I have come to really love spilling my guts to you about all my Dick Appointments, and going into detail about how I used to shove mascara wands up my fanny.

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1. It’s been a long time since I’ve fucked anyone with a strap on, so there’s an element of novelty. I’ve half forgotten how it feels to slide inside. I’m keen to remember.

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