This morning I received a strongly worded letter from the Sex Blogger’s Association, informing me that as I have not yet written any custom content for Masturbation Month, they will soon be removing my Fuckblogger badge and ripping up my membership card. The only way out of this is to write some sauce that explicitly references ‘Masturbation Month.’ So here goes: 10 wank fantasies that you can steal/tweak/edit and enjoy at your leisure.

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He likes me to greet him when he comes home from work. But ‘greet’ means different things to different people. To him, it means ‘come and meet me at the front door, give me a hug and kiss like you missed me.’ I’d prefer to greet him on my knees, mouth open, ready for him to tell me “I’ve had a really hard day at work” before proceeding to brutally fuck my face.

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As this blog goes live, I’ll be on my bike. Sadly not naked, but definitely enjoying the wind in my hair and feeling like I’m flying through my holiday. I love cycling, and as a result I’ve always been fascinated – and tempted – by the London Naked Bike Ride. I’ve watched it a few times before, envious of the brilliant people who are comfortable getting their kit off and riding through the busy streets of central London. As yet I’ve never done it, though perhaps this year’s ride – on 8th June – might tempt me out of the shadows. In the meantime, though, I’m welcoming @pervy_thoughts (you can find his blog at the excellently-titled Pervy.Fun) – a regular guest blogger and nudist who is here to extol the joys of naked cycling!

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Welcome to the first in a series of sex-toy focused posts by me, Luke – your sex toy correspondent. Today I want to tell you why the Tenga Flip Hole is my favourite sex toy. If you, or anyone you love, has a penis that they enjoy using in a masturbatory context, you should buy this toy. If I’m brutally honest, I have had sex less satisfying than an evening to myself with my Tenga Flip Hole. This is a proper ‘light some candles, pour yourself a bath and put on some Barry White’ level treat-yo-self wank.

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We love each other. We fancy each other. We live together. I think about his cock almost constantly, and I’m betting he does too. We are inside each other’s heads all the time, and in bed together every night. We touch on the sofas while Netflix is on, and we steal kisses on the tube on our nights out to go and meet friends. And we only ever really fuck on Sundays.

After the report that many Brits only have sex once a week, I considered writing a blog post about why ‘number of times you did it’ is a shit way to measure how happy people’s sex lives are, and how annoying it is that these studies usually only include a very narrow set of acts in their definition of what ‘sex’ is. But that didn’t seem as fun as what I’m about to do, which is write some erotic fiction about a couple who only fucks on Sundays. 

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