Girl on the Net

OK, I know this is silly. But last night I really wanted to talk to you about the aurora. I wanted to tell you to go outside and look, and ask if you could see it from wherever you were at the time. I wanted to forward the picture that my brother had sent from his garden: pink waves in the sky. Pure beauty. The magic of space. I wanted to talk to you about the aurora.

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He’s pretty quiet in bed, so I’ve become used to turning up the perception dial on all the senses I use to tell whether someone’s enjoying themselves. Most notably when I’m sucking his dick or giving him a gentle hand job. I listen more intensely for the softer sounds he makes, and have trained myself to hone in on those little moments when his breath catches: if I tease the head of his cock with lubed-up fingers, for instance, or get the pressure and speed of a particular stroke just right. I place my hands on his thighs or hips, where the muscles sometimes tense as things start to build, or I press my whole body against his, to get an even better idea of how my moves are being received. I check in with plenty of ‘is this good?’s and the occasional specific question like ‘tell me which is better… gentle or firm?’. It’s a far cry from someone’s hands gripping my hair and shoving my throat onto their cock or loud moans telling me what a filthy slut I am, but I’m getting used to these quieter, softer responses. I’ve started to tune in to the subtle shifts in how he tells me he’s having a good time. So when I introduced this subtle guy to a sexual feedback technique for shy people, the fact that he used it – and the way that he used it – made me drench my knickers in an instant.

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I’m a firm believer in the power of writing to help you work through your feelings. I often find myself halfway through a post, suddenly realising that the emotions I have about this or that story have evolved or become clearer as I’m writing: we are our stories, and trying to capture the narratives that run through our lives is such a powerful (and valuable) thing to do. Today’s guest blogger is writing to capture a bundle of complex emotions about FOMO, relationships, and life in his 40s that are tricky to label and digest. Especially because, when you’re polyamorous, many of the scripts we have around different life stages don’t quite seem to fit. Thank you so much Northern Boy, and I hope your thoughts can help other people who might be struggling with similar things…

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I’m not saying that if you offer me enough kinky guest blogs, eventually I’ll pull favours to get you a sex toy you really want so that you can go to town on it and write a review but… that’s exactly what happened here. And if anyone deserves the chance to go to town on a limited edition, hot pink Doxy Die Cast then it’s Jenby. One of the most prolific, funny, kinky guest bloggers I’ve had the pleasure of working with. I’m so chuffed that the toy she picked is from one of my favourite sponsor companies: Doxy. Even more delighted that it coincided with them launching a brand new, limited edition Doxy Die Cast. To celebrate ten years (TEN YEARS!) of this kickass sex toy brand, they’re launching an initiative to support breast cancer awareness in the UK, and donating a portion of the profits from every special wand that is sold. These incredibly beautiful Doxy wands are sold in gorgeous, fuckproud hot pink to immediately draw the eye of anyone lucky enough to be invited into your bedroom. Given Jenby’s penchant for bimbofication, it just felt like fate…

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He’ll be home any minute so she has to do her hair. Curled and set, brushed out neatly before being shaped around her face so it looks like it was effortless. She selects her best outfit, one she knows he’ll find appealing. Emphasising her curves just enough but not too much. Making her look like an angel. Nails are polished. Legs already smooth – earlier that day she ran herself a bath and her skin is now powder-soft, like new-fallen snow. Bathed and moisturised and shaven and plucked and perfect. Man, I’m so glad I’m not a 1950s housewife!

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