Yesterday I told people to tweet me with any topics they wanted me to cover. The suggestions ranged from quite bizarre through really fucking bizarre to seriously interesting. I haven’t been able to tackle all of them in depth, because blimey there were a hell of a lot of them. If you’ve better answers than I have (and why wouldn’t you? I basically know nothing), then please do join in below the line. Some of these I might do more on later, because there are some really interesting topics here.
So here goes: a slightly weird meta-blog, in which we discuss everything from knickers to nearly injuring yourself during sex, and ponder the intensely philosophical question: why do most people think it’s OK to eat a pig, but not to fuck one?
— Fred Bloggs (@Pervy_thoughts) May 5, 2015
Just the word ‘knickers’ is enough to make me slick my… well… knickers. Something about it is awesome, and I love how all-encompassing it is. I don’t know that a dude has ever told me to pull down my thong, but I know plenty who’ve ordered me to ‘slip your knickers to the side so I can fuck you from behind.’ Perhaps it’s mainly hot because of the association. I am coming around to the word ‘panties’, despite hating it a few years ago, and I suspect it’s because I read more American erotica and blogs now, so I can associate panties with hot wanks in a way I used not to be able to. For the record, the best types of knickers are: 3. French lace knickers 2. Boy shorts 1. Burlesquey ruffled pants. Find out why on a post I wrote ages ago about the best kind of knickers. Oh, and here, where we discussed the best things to do with knickers while you’re fucking.
Argh a good topic – I might try to write a longer post to it at some point. For now, though, let’s just list the massively shitty assumptions from which ideas like this spring:
1. Guys need sex like they need, you know, water and food and skin to hold in their internal organs.
2. Girls basically spend their lives working out complex ways to deny men sex.
3. Girls require incentivising in order to fuck their boyfriend.
4. Their boyfriend has some kind of right to sex, and any good girlfriend is obliged to provide it, even though (see 3) they probably don’t want to.
Blergh to all of this. Sex is basically like tennis: a bloody fun way to pass the time with someone who wants to play with you, but no one has the right to make you stand and hit the ball back whenever they fancy a knockabout. Not even if they’re Roger Federer.
In that analogy, Roger Federer is your boyfriend. I hope some of you can get off to that – I certainly can.
— Richard Nicholl (@rtrnicholl) May 5, 2015
Twats, weren’t they?
@girlonthenet “anyone has a 11″ dildo in their nightstand” sex tape
— james blessing (@boggits) May 5, 2015
For those who haven’t seen it, this is a quote from the film Sex Tape, in which Jason Segel plays a guy who makes me curiously hot for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s not meant literally – it basically means we all have sexual secrets and there’s nowt to be ashamed of. You could essentially swap ’11 inch dildo’ for any sexual equipment and it’d still be true, and to be honest that’d be my preference because there is no way on God’s Earth that my vagina is 11 inches long. Unless I found someone to hop on the other end of it, 11 inches would just be a waste.
I’ve long had a fantasy about wanking a guy off in zero gravity. This is true, and it is something that I have dissected at length with my other half. It’s one of those weird conversations that begins with the obvious questions:
- Would it all lump together in one glob, or spray around? And could I catch it in my mouth?
And swiftly gets towards the kind of practicalities that make me wonder if he’s planning it for a birthday present:
- Would floating zero-gravity spunk globules damage the nifty space instruments?
- How much does a ticket on Virgin Galactic cost?
— Green Carol Thornton (@TheCATcreptin) May 5, 2015
An interestingly sex-free question here, unless the kind of volunteering would involve giving manual relief to people who looked sad and in desperate need.
I actually don’t volunteer (boo! hiss! I am mean!) but it’s because I’m a bit nerdy about effective charitable giving, and also massively anxious so I suck at doing things that would involve me meeting strangers in Actual Real Life. Short version: I’d rather spend a day earning money, then give that money to people who need it, than get out of bed and move my ineffectual arse over to a local community project or similar. For more info, check out The Life You Can Save, which is a really interesting book about how to give effectively, and acts as a stick with which I occasionally beat myself to remind me to give more.
However, if you do volunteer then bloody well done, and I hear it’s incredibly good for you as well as for the community. Shout about it, because one of the main things I learned from the book I mentioned above it’s that Doing Good Things is incredibly contagious.
What I know about escorting could be written on the back of a stamp, depending on how much space you need to scrawl ‘sweet fuck-all’ in biro. HOWEVER, I have had guest blogs sex workers before (a pro-Domme, a naked maid, and a sex worker who wanted to tackle the question ‘what happens if you fancy one of your clients?’). Check ’em out – they’re ace.
@girlonthenet learned helplessness, and how it manifests in social classes
— Pip Slave (@pipslave) May 5, 2015
Oh Jesus. To be fair, I did say “anything” and I’m starting to think that was a mistake. I have absolutely no idea how learned helplessness affects different social classes, although I suspect it intersects with a hell of a lot of other things. Can I have one pass? I might have to use it here. Chip in below the line if you have more knowledge on this than I do.
PHEW, something easy. Buses are horny because when you sit at the back over the wheel, and the bus is idling, sometimes it goes a bit juddery. If you (like me) have a clit, and a reasonably decent-fitting pair of jeans, you can position yourself so that the seam of your jeans presses against the crotch of your knickers. It doesn’t make me come, but it gets me about 70% of the way there, which is more than can be said of the Circle Line. Badoom tsch.
@girlonthenet Egg timers.
— Dave Steele (@hullodave) May 5, 2015
Most people know that these can be found in traditional board game boxes: Pictionary and the like. What most people don’t know is that they can also be used for disgustingly fun sexual ends, such as teasing a guy to the brink of climax, placing a 3 minute egg timer on the table, then telling him he can hump the gaps in the sofa cushions until he comes, but he has to do it before the sand runs out.
Makes for an interesting family Christmas.
I’ll go one further and say at the right time it can be smoking hot. I’m a pretty big fan of messy sex, with fluids all over the place. I’m also a big fan of anything which – outside of the bedroom – would otherwise be considered degrading/defiling/vile/disgusting from a power perspective too.
What I’m saying is that I love it when guys spit in my mouth.
@girlonthenet condoms. Do the different types matter? Are we insane to prefer a cuppa to sex with a condom? If we do are we doing it wrong?
— Peter Dickinson (@Diffractionman) May 5, 2015
Different types definitely do matter – apart from anything else I once had one that smelt like mint and I spent half the shag wondering why I was fantasising about roast lamb. Branded ones with the kite mark (if you’re in the UK) are important, so you know they are quality, and not going to break on you. Other than that, whatever floats your boat.
Things that (in my experience) do make a difference:
Things that don’t make a difference:
- whether you make a twat of yourself when you try to undo the packet one-handed
If you don’t like condoms, I’m not going to slag you off: they’re not massively exciting for me either, and as a rule I prefer shagging without them – when I’m with someone who has clean tests and says they love me in just the right way.
I hear they can also be used to carry water in the desert, but I have no idea why so many people tell us this in sex ed, because chances are if I’m going to the desert, I’m unlikely to be prepped for a rampant sexfest. That sand gets everywhere.
@girlonthenet fruit abuse
— John D Smith (@John_Bemax) May 5, 2015
I am guessing this one was meant as a joke but I am going to turn it on its head and say that I would pay actual cash money if the man I loved would warm up a melon and let me watch him fuck it. There’s something intensely primal and hot about being so horny you will literally fuck whatever you can get your hands on. Possibly even sexier than using a masturbator.
He knows I want this, and as yet has not given up the goods, no matter how many times I assure him that it counts as one of his five a day. And before you ask, yes I would eat it afterwards. Waste not, want not.
VOTING IS SEXY. I think I’m obliged to say this because there’s an election tomorrow. In reality it’s a bit tedious and (probably) drizzly. You trek down to your local polling station, sigh at the dismal turnout, put a cross in a box, then sod off home again. I still get a frisson of delight when I do it though because it feels like The Most Grown Up Thing I Do.
If you want to make it sexier, remove your knickers before you leave the house to vote. Or get the bus to the polling station.
@girlonthenet Sex with your ex etiquette?
— Martin A. Brooks (@mart_brooks) May 5, 2015
Never ever ever have sex with an ex. I’m joking, of course: have loads of sex with whoever you like. I’ve had some pretty amazing sex with exes, and it stands to reason that we’ll often want to pop back to a guy or girl we’ve known before – whatever attracted you to them in the first place rarely disappears in a puff of smoke, and there are a fair few of my exes who still send me a bit weak and wibbly if they hug me for a split second too long when we say goodbye at the bus stop.
Etiquette-wise, I’d say it’s basically the same as when you sleep with anybody: don’t be a dick. And perhaps make extra-sure that you’re honest about your intentions. Nothing more painful than one of you thinking it’s a casual poke for nostalgia’s sake, and the other one planning the wedding.
I once chipped a guy’s tooth because he slipped off the bed at the moment of climax, shortly after crying “I’m going to come in your ass!” It was pretty hot, yet also terrifying. I wrote about it a while ago and I still occasionally crack one off to it.
I reckon the best way to recover from a sex accident is the same way you’d recover from a clumsy fall on a wedding dancefloor: laugh about it, brush yourself off, then submit the video footage to You’ve Been Framed.
@girlonthenet creepy men on the internet…
— Euan Galloway (@eusahues) May 5, 2015
The guy who asked this question has been camped outside my house for some time now. Someone bring him a sandwich.
Not really, obviously.
Is seduction dead? Hell no! It just got way more interesting. Look: some people do still woo with words and attention (words are certainly the best way to get me into bed), but there are also loads of other ways, each of them unique and special to the couple in question.
While I’m not a massive fan of ‘making love‘, some people really are – and they’re not all women.
I assume you’re talking more about the roses-and-chocolates school of wooing which tends to follow a certain pattern. If anything, I think seduction is actually far more alive now, when we can recognise that not everyone wants roses. Accepting that different people are after different things means that seduction, sex, and romance, is unique, and should be tailored to the person you’re wooing rather than phoned in based on some weirdly prescriptive love formula.
@girlonthenet animal sex….
— bangsandwhimpers (@bangsnwhimpers) May 5, 2015
This one’s ambiguous but I’m going to interpret it as actual sex with actual animals (dogs, monkeys, chickens and the like). Here’s the deal: animals can’t consent to sex, so bestiality is wrong. Some people would argue that it’s wrong for different reasons, but I’m going with the consent thing.
So what if a dog tries to shag you, and you let it? Did that dog consent? Maybe. I’d probably not advocate you all start doing it though – apart from anything else the RSPCA would be round my house demanding retractions and donations.
I could bang on about this for ages because I discussed it to death with a bunch of fellow philosophy students at uni. I’ll try and write a longer post for this at some point because, fuck it, I’ve covered necrophilia so I clearly have no boundaries. In the meantime, if you eat meat, please ponder this question: why is it OK to eat a pig but not to fuck one?
Confession: I don’t think I’ve ever had cystitis. I mean, I’d know wouldn’t I? It sounds really painful, and is apparently sometimes caused by sexytimes.
— Wank Of The Day (@WankOfTheDay) May 5, 2015
Anyone who follows me on facebook will know that I have a massive boner for interesting blog searches. From ‘Penelope Keith sex scene’ to ‘get erection wading in jeans‘, I love it when people find my blog via unusual questions. My absolute favourite, though, comes from the sex blog search terms post I wrote for Christmas last year, in which someone had searched for the strangely specific ‘3.8 inch dick picture.’
Here’s the thing: I don’t think I’ve ever told someone that I didn’t enjoy something – not directly like that, at any rate. It’s good if you can, and obviously communication is really important but if – like me – you feel awkward about saying ‘that’s not for me’ then I find it more helpful to focus on the good things, and give loads of positive reinforcement of the things you love, as well as suggestions for new things to do. You could also try a technique that was popular with Number 10 staffers when Gordon Brown was Prime Minister:
“One staffer says a colleague developed a technique called a “news sandwich” – first telling the prime minister about a recent piece of good coverage before delivering bad news, and then moving quickly to tell him about something good coming soon.”