The topless snowball fight

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snowmen, of course, are famed for their voyeuristic tendencies

Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

Hovering near the top of my ‘missed opportunities’ list, somewhere just behind ‘never getting round to that gangbang dinner party’ is a snowy afternoon in the early noughties.

Remember that time in your life when you were most carefree? Happiest? Most content in your body and intensely, hornily desperate to use it? Well, mine was around about then. Just before I’d started shagging, but long after I’d discovered boys. My weekends and evenings were spent huddled in whispering, weed-smoking, cider-swilling groups, competing with each other to contrive more imaginative ways we could get touched up by our equally-horny peers.

I miss those times.

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Guest blog: Latex fetish wear

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When people send me guest blogs which so beautifully capture the delight and desire in a very specific fetish, I go a bit weak at the knees. I don’t think you have to share a particular fetish, or kink, in order to enjoy hearing about it – one of the things I love most about fet is the twinkle in someone’s eyes as they wax lyrical about the exact reasons why they love something. I might not understand the fetish in itself, but the passion and delight with which someone explains their desire is arousing in and of itself. I think so, at any rate.

So when this week’s guest blogger – LatexLegs – sent me ‘part 1′ of a story about his fantasy night dressed head to toe in latex fetish wear, the delicious intensity with which he described his arousal stood out pretty strongly. It’s fantasy rather than real-life, and there’s an aching longing there which reminds me of certain wistful stories I wrote before I had the opportunity to fully embrace the sex I wanted to have with a partner. As I say, this is part 1, and I’ve had a sneak preview of part 2. I don’t usually publish more than one guest blog from each person, but  this covers something which I can’t talk about with the same degree of fiery passion and hotness, so if you like this leave a comment and I’ll squeeze part 2 into the new year.

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No pain, no pleasure, all the joy – anaesthetic sex

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I have a toothache. No one likes toothache – only misery can come of it. Except in one case, when a particular toothache led to one of the weirdest, sexiest, darkest shags I ever had.

“Please bring someone to accompany you home,” the letter said. They were going to anaesthatise me in a way I hadn’t experienced before – some sort of drip in the back of my hand that would apparently make me woozy and numb for a few hours. Technically a sedative, I think, it would leave me conscious but insensitive. After they’d administered this, they’d pull out the wisdom tooth that was giving me hell, but I’d be in that state for a few hours.

I didn’t really know who could take me home from the hospital. I lived in London at the time, was vaguely single, and the idea of paying for a taxi through zones 3, 2, 1 then out again was as laughable as buying a ticket to the moon. But I really wanted a guy to take me home. I had an… idea.

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Where are all the pervy women?

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badass unicorn will trample you if you ask where the pervy women are

Image by the amazing Stuart F Taylor

One of the most common questions I am asked (and I say this not to boast but to point out just how much disappointment I could unleash if people found out who I am) is “where can I meet a girl like you?”

This question is usually asked by straight men, who are keen to go to a bar, hook up with someone, fuck her face, then drink a few pints with her before getting ready for round two. Sadly when people ask ‘where can I meet a girl like you?’ I inevitably have to reply: you can’t.

Sorry. I’m not a figment of your imagination as such, but I’m certainly a figment of my own selective storytelling. You can meet me in a bar if you stumble into the right Wetherspoons at the dirty back end of a Friday night, but I won’t look just like this, or talk like this, or engage in this kind of pervy behaviour while you’re sipping your pint.

I’ll be wearing jeans and a jumper with holes in. I might drink and swear and shoot daggers at people who make sexist jokes, but I’ll also be a bit shy and awkward. I might forget your name, or flirt with you in a manner so clumsy it’s a gigantic turn-off. If you’re lucky, I might even sneak off to the toilet to be sick, before ducking out the side-door to avoid awkward goodbyes before I stumble onto the night bus.

So, the short answer is: you will never ever meet a woman who is exactly like a sex blogger, because sex bloggers are – as everyone is online to a certain extent - curated versions of our incompetent, real-life selves. But that’s OK, because that’s not really the question these guys are asking. What they’re usually asking is this:

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Guest blog: first time masturbation

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This week’s guest blog is by the excellent Jillian Boyd, who writes her own sex blog over at Lady Laid Bare. She’s got a brilliant way of combining horniness and throwaway, casual wit, and when she sent through her post on first time masturbation I wanted to pop back in time, show it to my teenage self and go ‘see? You’re not alone! Other people are on a rampant hunt for sex material too!’

Here’s Jillian’s take on first time masturbation…

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