Category Archives: Sex blog advice

My sex blogger origin story

It’s quite hard to pinpoint when I knew I wanted to be a sex blogger: I’ve definitely always wanted to write, but I don’t think I’d worked out my niche until recently. Even when I started this blog I was unconvinced that it would turn into a proper vocation – I saw it as a hobby that might somehow be practice for what I’d end up actually doing… until the day it turned into what I actually do. But maybe it actually started before that, as evidenced by this email that my best friend found from ten years’ ago, after a particularly awesome fuck…

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Mutual masturbation magic: mirror wanking

The phrase ‘mutual masturbation’ isn’t one of my favourites, to be honest. Something about the ‘mutual’ sounds too formal for me: it conjures images of ‘mutual societies’, and makes me feel as if I’m wanking alongside an ethical building society or the Co-op. But mutual masturbation is ridiculously fun, and I recently stumbled across a new way to do it that turned out to be hot as fuck, so I’m going to share it with you because I’m a very generous lover.

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Rewriting history: should you edit old blogs to remove trash opinions?

For a while I’ve been contemplating a series of blog posts in which I argue, essentially, with myself. Taking on some of the bad arguments or terrible opinions I had years ago, which still exist on these pages for everyone to see. Every time my autotweet widget spits out something from the archive, I cringe in anticipation of what my past self said, ready to be embarrassed today by what I said five years ago. I’m not alone in this: we’ve all said things in the past that we don’t agree with today. And we all have to consider how we deal with embarrassing stuff when confronted by it, years later. Should we edit old blogs that we no longer agree with?

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Eroticon 2018: I wanna be more you

I want to write a quick ’10 things I took away from Eroticon 2018′ – thanks to The Other Livvy for kicking it all off this year! But before I get into my 10 things, I wanted to explain the one big thing that’s been going round and round in my head since I collapsed, exhausted, on my living room floor on Sunday: I want to be more like other people.

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Hold my jacket

“You’re such a fucking weirdo,” he tells me, in that deeply affectionate tone which is the only one you can legitimately use when you’re calling someone a fucking weirdo. “You spend all your time either nostalgic for the past, or panicking about the future.”

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