Sometimes dicks don’t get hard when you want them to. Yours stays soft sometimes, right? If you’re drunk, high, stressed, distracted by a squirrel or whatever? Annoyingly, society has told you that not being able to achieve full-mast, cast-iron boners whenever you want to is shameful, even though it really obviously isn’t because it happens to everyone. Seriously, every single person with a dick has had trouble with it at some point – it won’t get hard, it gets hard at inappropriate times, it comes sooner than you’d like or doesn’t come at all, you know the drill. And some of you, when your dicks don’t do what you want, lean on a little external help. If you come too quickly, you might try wearing a thicker condom. If you can’t get hard, you might pop a Viagra. It’s totally fine, loads of people do it, and I (a 39-year-old woman with a ravenous cunt and a lot of love to give) am here to tell you that I will not shame you for taking one. In fact, like many sexual things to which we usually attach shame, I would like to take that bullshit societal script and utterly pervert it. The next time you reach for a blue pill, please tell me you’re about to take one, so together we can make it kinky. Here’s how to take a Viagra, sexily.

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A friend of mine recently asked, as I was telling her how lovely a particular guy was, how I went about trying to avoid ‘catching feelings’ for the men that I spend time with. There are two answers to this question: the cunty one and the nice one. Both are true.

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I get these bursts of it, every now and then. Like a high. It swells upwards and outwards from the centre of my chest – rushing with a power that’s so much stronger than the first tingles of love. In the beginning, these rushes were so intense that sometimes they’d stop me in my tracks. Make it so I had to pause whatever I was doing and just breathe for a few seconds. In and out. Spine straight, shoulders back, slightly light-headed like you get when you stand up too quickly.

Freedom.

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I have very little truck with entertainment that simply makes me think – I want to read, watch and listen to stuff that makes me fucking feel. And few genres on this planet are more effective at making people feel stuff than porn. Direct, intense, powerful: compelling people to touch themselves, revelling in the sensation of their crotch thudding hot and warm with blood. I adore porn, and in fact I will happily recommend you some fabulous sites if you’d like to buy a sub to get your rocks off (click the ads! And if you can’t see any porn ads, hit refresh until you do!). I don’t actually watch porn while I’m wanking, though, and every now and then I have a conversation with someone in which they look at me like I’m weird when I tell them I can (and usually do) get off without porn. I’m a sex blogger who has access to a lifetime’s worth of free porn! Why aren’t I watching it all the time?! It’s like they feel sorry for me, having to make do with just the thoughts in my head instead of the magic on screen. All the while, I’m feeling sorry for them, because they don’t have access to the kind of content that plays in my own private cinema.

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