Tag Archives: wanking
Sex and politics and naked party leaders wanking in custard
While I’d love to be able to open this blog with a revelation about a sordid orgy with two famous politicians, that would be a heinous lie. I’ve never had sex with a politician, and unless one of my exes stands for office at some point, or Danny Alexander pops round when I’m too horny to be critical, it’ll probably stay that way forever.
Still, that doesn’t stop me speculating on the sexiness or otherwise of various politicians, so I’m going to do just that:
- Ed would totally get it.
- Clegg would have had it back in 2010 but now wouldn’t muster so much as a pity fuck.
- Sturgeon is undeniably cheeky and although I don’t fancy her I’d definitely nudge a mate if she beckoned them over with a sexy wink at a party.
- Cameron can get utterly fucked, but not by me.
For the Americans among you, I hope you know that I am not discriminating against your politicians. I have, on numerous occasions, had fantasies about being accidentally locked in a cupboard with Barack Obama. The cupboard’s vital because I know he’d never let me snog him if he thought Michelle might see.
Guest blog: Rev1000 is like a nimble-fingered handjob
I’ll admit it – I’m shameless. Sometimes I write things because they make me horny, sometimes I write things because I know they make other people horny, and sometimes… well… sometimes I email other sex bloggers and ask them to write things because I really want to hear them describe something hot in intense detail.
When someone first used a Doxy massager on me, I was struck by the idea that the orgasm wasn’t so much something that I’d contributed to – by grinding against things or thinking ‘happy orgasm wave thoughts’ – but something that was being torn from me. Like a hot, juddering, almost involuntary muscle spasm. Part of that, I think, comes from the fact that the person holding the Doxy doesn’t have to do much – they can just hold it tight up against my clit and watch me squirm and squawk like a cat trapped in a laundry basket. I want something that does the same thing for guys. So, having researched and settled on the Rev1000 – a thing that looks like a sci-fi sink plunger, but which promises hands (and effort-free) orgasms, I did the obvious, shameless thing: I contacted a guy who’d used one and asked him to tell me all about it.
This is Andy – AKA RuffledSheets, who was lovely enough to oblige my whims. I’m massively grateful to him for indulging me, so please do check out his blog, follow him on Twitter, and check out his thoughts (and hot NSFW pics) after the jump.
Glass dildos, kegel muscles, and clamping down for pleasure
I find exercise for its own sake incredibly tedious. Running, cycling, picking up weights then putting them down again: I get why some people like it, but I’m not one of those people. Moving muscles for a purpose: picking up heavy boxes to move house, running for a bus, cycling because you just need to get somewhere – fine. But moving for the sake of moving isn’t something I’ve ever been excited about.
As with biceps, triceps and whatever ‘glutes’ are, same with kegels. The idea of doing special exercises to strengthen the muscles in my cunt leaves me a bit cold. I’m having a go right now as I write this, probably making odd quizzical faces and feeling glad I’m not in an open plan office, and the sensation I get from it can best be described as ‘meh.’
But during sex? Or a wank? That’s when those kegels really come into their own.
Edging: the hotness of aching to come, and the moment you finally do
He sent me a picture of it once – swollen, bright red, and leaking a fat, shiny drop of pre-come. Skin so taut I could tell he’d been edging, even if he hadn’t told me. Seven days’ worth, if I remember correctly. Seven days of edging – touching it, stroking it, playing gently enough that he wouldn’t quite climax. Until the whole thing ached and he had to go to extreme lengths to get settled down before he had to leave the house. Digging fingernails into his thighs, cold water, that kind of thing…
Porn: not all of it is for you
As the sun will rise every morning, so each day an internet commenter will decide that something new is The Worst Thing To Ever Have Happened.
I’m not prone to slagging off commenters – you who join in below the line, adding critique, debate, praise and hilarious jokes about this one time you fell off the bed while fucking – you are a valuable and incredible part of the internet. Sniffy bloggers like me don’t have a monopoly on opinions, and frequently the contribution of thoughtful, awesome people adds loads to a topic, or makes me snort coffee out of my nose when they drop a particularly hilarious pun. Comments are incredibly valuable: I’d be a liar if I told you differently.
But there is one kind of commenter who can fuck utterly off. And it’s someone I had only made passing acquaintance with until I started working for hot porn site Dreams of Spanking. It’s this person:
“Eww. Why on earth would you post two men going at it?”
“Sorry, but this just isn’t my thing AT ALL.”
“What the hell is THAT?”