You’ve met today’s guest blogger before – Elena Bennet dropped by a few months ago with this gloriously horny post about the sex surge during menopause, bringing everyone a thrill of delight by sharing her sex Renaissance with us all. Today is your opportunity to repay that lovely favour, because she has an important question on which she’d like your advice. If you have too many sex toys and it starts getting tricky to hide them from prying eyes, how the hell do you store them? Take it away Elena – everyone else, do chip in with your tips below.

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For some reason, when you become intimate with people, they often feel like they have a right to say critical things about the way you look. Men have often felt this way about my body over the years: making comments about my weight, the various places in which hair grows and whether I remove it, the way I dress or carry myself, my use (or rejection) of make up. As if our intimacy constitutes a contract which grants them the right to correct me. Or perhaps, more kindly, like they believe I will welcome the opportunity for self-improvement that they’ve so thoughtfully opened up. Please, for the love of infinite fuck, understand this: I will never welcome these comments. You should never say these things. Your negative comment on my body is never welcome. My body is my body. If you don’t like it, don’t fuck it: that’s the deal.  

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A reader got in touch recently to ask if I’d written about subdrop before, and frankly I could always do with more of this because I love the excuse to pick up new topics. On this topic, though, I don’t have much experience: I’m out of practice with kink play, and I think even when I used to do it regularly I wasn’t hugely affected by subdrop. Luckily for me, @ht_honey – whose fabulous blog can be fond here at Happy Come Lucky – was kind enough to share her experience of what subdrop is, as well as some fun and playful strategies on how to tackle it when it rears its head after a play scene.

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I have a lot of friends who embrace nonmonogamy – i.e. relationships where you are both open to the idea of forming romantic/sexual bonds with more than one person – as opposed to monogamy, where you pair off with one person, avoid shagging anyone else, then eventually cement your bond with matching clogs and a National Trust membership. Naturally, as someone who moves in sex-positive circles, I run into loads of people who have taken the traditional ‘scripts’ we’re taught we should follow when it comes to relationships, and torn them up in favour of writing their own. I love this, and I think the more people who do it the better. However, when I talk to other people about different relationship styles there’s one argument for nonmonogamy that rubs me up the wrong way.

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This gorgeous steampunk orgasm erotica is written by The Queer Earthling and read by Sherryl Blu. Note that this story contains: bondage, fucking machines, and hints of forced orgasm.

It was a cool autumn day in New London when I decided to call upon my friend, whom most knew as the Professor. Well-traveled, slightly eccentric, and exceedingly attractive, the Professor was somewhat famous for their inventions. They often spent hours in their workshop, a private space that none could enter, emerging rarely until they’d produced another of their magnificent creations, which were both spectacular and quite stimulating. These inventions sold, some said, for obscene amounts at private auction, but you would never know it—the Professor just wore their same tweed suit at all times, except for formal occasions, when they might instead don a tuxedo that had been out of fashion for a good five years or so.

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