One of the things I like to do of an evening is stick on a horny album and daydream for a while about my next set-piece fuck. By ‘set-piece’ fuck I mean something a little bit extra, not the standard ‘make out and bang’ that I’ll leap into on impulse. These might feature a new act I’ve not yet tried with this person (or at all), or something like special equipment, clothes or preparation. Sometimes it’s just a specific tone I want to play with: brattiness; begging; anticipation… you get the idea. I sit on the sofa getting high and listening to sexy music, daydreaming about a few recent hits from the bedroom, or mull over breadcrumbs that my partner might have casually dropped into conversation when hinting at what they might like, then see if I can come up with something that presses buttons for both of us. Now feels as good a time as any to talk about set-piece fucks, because I recently became single so I won’t be able to do them again for a really long time. Talking about the pleasure I get from doing this sort of thing gives me the chance to shoehorn in a topic I’ve wanted to discuss for a while: what monogamy means to me.

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I told this story briefly, while at the festival last year: ‘I sucked a dick at Glastonbury’, I tweeted, with undertones of ‘achievement unlocked.’ The response was a combination of welcome high fives and entirely unwelcome shame: eww, blow jobs? At a festival?! I hope you used wet wipes first! Some people are so weird. But to each their own. I don’t tell sex stories without knowing that sometimes I’ll press people’s shame buttons. Some people’s instinct to say ‘eww’ when they hear that some random slag got facefucked in a field in Somerset is as natural as my instinct to brag about it in the first place. I sucked a dick at Glastonbury last year. And as I pack my bag for this year, I’ve decided now’s the time to tell that story.

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When I tell my sister this story, she snort-laughs and tells me ‘we really need to do something about the low expectations you have of men.’ I’m front-loading this because I suspect that’s what the man involved might say himself. He used to be quite baffled by how pleased I was when he did little thoughtful things, as if little thoughtful things aren’t worthy of note. As if kindness is incidental, instead of – you know – everything.

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Last week, during the Patreon Q&A, a lovely supporter asked a question about super-practical sex tips – what they described as ‘non-sexy sex tips’. Basically, advice for things one can do to improve the general environment and make sex itself more likely and/or fun. I had a blast answering this, because I think often some of the best sex tips aren’t directly related to play – top positions, sex toy recommendations, best lube for a hand job, etc – they’re peripheral things (like communication) that are all about creating an atmosphere in which everyone feels comfortable and hot.

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The jury is no longer out on why Pete Davidson gets to shag so many incredibly hot A-list celebrity women. For a long time, the rumour was that he had a giant cock or some incredible sexual skill that no one else could possibly have mastered. But nowadays it’s accepted (at least, in the circles I run in) that the reason PD gets so much A is because he’s a decent bloke.

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