I am definitely biased in favour of people with sexy tattoos. Take any guy who is funny or pretty or interesting enough to vaguely grab my attention, slap a tattoo on him, and watch as I turn from mildly intrigued to drooling at the mouth. (more…)

Today I’m obsessed with risky sex. The kind that gets your heart hammering in time to the thud of your crotch, as you fuck with a nebulous yet oh-so-urgent deadline. Get it over with before the others find you.

Risky sex. Like the snatched gropes you have in crowded places, or the slightly-more-than-that which teenagers do on the bus.

Sex you have not because you’re too horny to get a room, but because the thrill of being discovered makes it all feel more illicit.

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My latest book is out today! Here are the links to buy it, and if you want to read a sample, then below is the whole of chapter 6, in text and at the bottom in audio (which I think technically counts as audio porn).

• Girl on the Net: How A Bad Girl Fell In Love (Amazon)

Extract below. I’m chuffed that this was the chapter picked for extract because I think it gives a pretty decent overview of the book – a bit of behind-the-scenes on blogging, a couple of fucking lovely blokes, a rant about openness and a dirty lubed-up hand job. Hope you like it.

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I don’t really like fucking in the bath, although one day I’ll tell you about the most successful bath sex I ever had – long, teasing and achingly slow in a hard way: each stroke like a punishment, which came with a splash of water. The delicious, almost-but-not-quite drowning sensation as my mouth and nose slipped below the water line.

Today, though, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is lie in the bath with the radio on, sink into bubbles and warmth, and have him sit beside me with his fingers in my cunt.

This is what we did the other day.

This is now what I want to do every day.

Until I die or, more realistically, get bored of it – I’m far too jaded now to think anything’s forever.

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I’m not very good at foreplay. In fact, on the scale of ‘things I am incredibly bad at’ it ranks below even running, remembering birthdays, and ‘not eating the second half of an open tube of Pringles.’

But, as with most sexual things, I’m willing to learn. After recently being berated for the fact that my seduction technique often involves me stripping to my pants in the bedroom and shouting ‘DO YOU WANT SEX?’ so loud that he can hear it from the kitchen, I am working on getting better at it.

Touching, hinting, saying sexy things: you know the drill.

Here’s how my foreplay lessons are going…

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