There are very few things in life that are truly guilt-free pleasures. Throughout the history of the human race, we’ve been on the constant look-out for pleasure. And unfortunately, most of the things we find that give it to us turn out to be bad in some way. Masturbation, though, is not one of those things. It is the jewel in the pleasure crown: something which is both intensely enjoyable and actually good for you. So it’s disappointing to hear that some twats have invented ‘No Nut November’ – a masturbation version of Stoptober (for smoking) or Dry January (for booze). A month during which people are encouraged to avoid masturbation for the good of their physical and mental health.

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There are lots of fascinating ethical questions surrounding the production of humanoid sex robots, not least the question of what kind of consent you’d need from someone in order to use their voice, face, or body when you produce a silicone replicant. But I want to state it here and now that I’d love to live on as a sex robot.

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The other day I spent a lovely couple of hours listening to men wanking. It was obscenely fun. Dudes pleasuring themselves is one of my biggest kinks, and the more gutturally raw it is, the better. It’s often tricky to explain the detail of this kink, in a world where ‘porn’ is too often synonymous with the male gaze: a perspective that focuses on the bodies/faces/noises of the women involved in a fuck, and rarely ever on the bodies/faces/noises of the men doing the fucking. Sometimes what looks like a ‘traditional’ male-gaze thing gives excellent opportunity for a voyeur like me. I’m not getting off to the same thing the guys are, I’m getting off to the fact they’re getting off. Let’s explore this…

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I could sit watching him wank forever – as he lies on one sofa, injured hand trying to wring an impossible orgasm out of his twitching, eager cock. A brief recap of where we left off on Wednesday: I’m sitting wanking on one sofa in the living room, my partner is wanking on the other, but his hand is injured so he can’t get the grip required to come. The sight of him frustratedly rubbing at his cock is so hot I came too quickly, but I’m stroking my clit and hoping for more because I just love watching him like this…

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Remember last Wednesday’s blog post, where my partner injured his hand and then gave me a cute compliment? That unscripted compliment wasn’t the only good thing to come out of his DIY disaster. As he pointed out soon after he’d mangled his palm, in a voice tinged with horror and distress: that was his wanking hand. He is not a man who goes without a wank easily, and I’m not a girl who misses the opportunity for a new kind of mutual masturbation. So we set to work…

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