Something really awesome happened in the men’s rights arena recently. A change that will benefit millions of prospective fathers in the UK: the parental leave rules changed.

Let’s take a minute to celebrate what this means. In the past, it was always assumed that the person who gave birth to a baby would be the person who’d be the primary carer in its first year. So mothers usually got maternity pay, and it’d be assumed that – beyond the statutory two weeks of paternity leave taken shortly after birth – dads would be the ones working in their child’s first year, while mums took on the lion’s share of childcare.

Obviously this explanation is pretty basic, and doesn’t take into account a whole bunch of stuff – same-sex couples or non binary people who give birth but wouldn’t identify as a mother, for instance – but those were the general rules, and they had a huge effect on UK workplaces. Now, though, thanks to rules on Shared Parental Leave (which came in at the beginning of April), apart from a compulsory statutory two weeks, which must be taken by the person who gave birth, parental leave can be split.

So: Dads are no longer assumed to be the ones working through the first year, missing out on things like their child’s first steps, or the chance to join baby yoga classes or hand-wash tiny babygros that are covered in weird yellow vomit – both parents get to decide how the work/childcare split happens. This is pretty fucking awesome.

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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.

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We’re grown-ups now: it’s not the done thing. You can’t fuck in a crowded room at a sleepover and expect to get away with it. We have more fun, don’t we? Those group sex parties and swingers’ clubs and all the places we can legitimately fuck in the open? Except we don’t, not always. And sometimes the delight of having secret sex in the dark is overlooked in favour of open sex with an audience.

I used to do this a lot. When I was young, I mean – not now. Now we have money for hotels, and big houses, and far far fewer friends. And – what’s that other thing? – oh yeah, restraint. There’s little need now to pack horny couples into a living room and hope their sex doesn’t jog the couple shagging on the pillows next to them.

That’s either a shame or a blessing. If you think it’s the latter, then please don’t read on.

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