Category Archives: Unsolicited advice

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The worst thing I could do (and it’s not cheating)

I used to have a fairly regular nightmare that went a little something like this:

Guy meets girl, guy starts shagging girl, girl and guy tangle together, sexily. Their limbs slide over each other, their hands grip flesh. His fingers dig hard into the crack of her arse, the way he does so gorgeously with me. They see me approach but they don’t care.

I’d dream about this quite frequently – a side-effect of an intensely jealous feeling. Part paranoia, part justified worry. He’d never actually do this, of course – not to the same degree. But in the dream it wasn’t the sex that bothered me so much as the openness of it. The fact that, when I approached the tangled, tousled couple, giggling and snogging and touching and worse – as I watched my fucking boyfriend fucking hard with someone else, he’d shrug and brush it off like his betrayal was nothing.

“Oh, didn’t you know? I’m with her now.”

They’d carry on, as I stood stunned and watching. Stuck in the moment, unable to escape until the second I woke up.

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Sex blog nerdery: which sex blog posts are the most popular?

If you hate graphs and stats and nerdy things, please look away now. If you run a sex blog, or you’re just curious as to how one works, step a little closer.

I’ve always had a theory, based on what I tend to see on Twitter and Facebook, that despite billing this as a sex blog, the most popular posts are actually the ones that are fairly tangential to sex acts themselves. Posts about feminism, dating, the Friend Zone – anything that falls roughly into the category of ‘ranty ones.’ These posts tend to get more retweets, shares, comments, and all the things that a wanky social media manager would irritatingly call ‘engagement.’ But when it comes to traffic, the filthy blog posts get far more, by quite some margin.

When I’ve chatted to other bloggers about this on Twitter, some of them have been as curious as I am. If you’re a sex blogger, is it worth sprinkling some politics in with your filth? If you’re a different kind of blogger, is it worth expanding your reach with some well-targeted sex chat?

And, the thing I’m most intrigued about: despite occasionally being annoyed when I link to filth, are people on Twitter actually more likely to click a link if they think it’s #nsfw?

Let’s have a look.

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Cool sex toys for National Masturbation Month

“I have to think of something to write about wanking.”

“Isn’t everything you write basically about wanking?”

“You don’t read my blog, do you?”

“Well, you can’t really blame me. I have to talk to you every day. Anyway, why do you have to write something about wanking?”

“Because it’s National Masturbation Month.”

“A whole month? How long does it take to have a wank?!”

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Random sex blog questions (and other questions)

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?

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What not to put on your sex playlist

The sound of sex is pretty important, by which I mean that if I’m fucking you I want to hear noises. You know – yelps, squeals, sighs – all that good stuff. Above all I want to hear you grunt like I’m a particularly hefty bit of furniture and you’re shifting me up an awkward staircase.

The most common soundtrack to my fucking is just that: the sound of fucking. Me sighing, you moaning, like a shit call-and-response bridge in the middle of a passionate duet.

Unngh.

Aaah.

Yeah.

Fuck.

Oh.

Nnng.

Oooh.

You know what I mean.

Sometimes, though, people choose to play music.

When I was fucking new people quite regularly, and I had a housemate whose desire to hear me fuck could be measured on a scale from ‘no thanks’ to ‘Jesus fuck woman I will BUY you a GAG’, I had a sex playlist.

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