Tag Archives: boys I’ve slept with

Dating site reviews based entirely on my brand prejudices

At some point, I will get back on The Apps. I know I have to. There are geographically convenient men in London just waiting to get shagged, and the only thing standing between them, me and a powerful ten-condom fuck is the fact that I can’t be arsed to take new dating site pictures. Oh! And the fact that my diary is looking pretty full until Christmas. Also that every time I consider meeting a new person I immediately run through all the possible ways it could be terrible/boring/frightening/disappointing until the whole thing starts to feel like admin. Oh God, what if the thing that’s standing in the way of this fun is… me? No, it can’t be that. That would mean it’s my fault. Instead, let’s pretend it’s because none of the dating sites are good enough, and the men I might meet on them are all wrong in interesting and hilarious ways. Join me in completely ignoring the impact my emotional baggage has on my life choices, as I present a few dating site reviews based purely on my prejudices about their brand.


I’m not always going to do what you want

One of the weird things about being an adult – and I mean an adult adult, not the adult I was in my twenties who spent most of her time trying to please other people – is that I’m starting to recognise more situations in which I cause friction by just… not doing exactly what other people want. By ‘other people’ here, I mostly mean ‘men’.


Midnight stealth fuck: role play planning

This post contains elements of consensual non-consent, i.e. when someone feigns reluctance during sex play. In this case it’s a stealth fuck where someone comes into the other person’s house late at night and climbs into bed with them. Everything in it is fully consensual, and the people involved have discussed the scenario in detail before attempting to fulfil the fantasy. Don’t ever do this in real life unless you have talked about it in detail and understand what your partner consents to (and how they can withdraw that consent if they change their mind), and please don’t read on if you find this kind of thing distressing. 

It’s her birthday, and he’s promised her something really special: a midnight visit when she’s asleep. She loves getting fucked in her sleep. The sensation of waking up – dreamy and vulnerable – to find his bodyweight pressing down on top of her. His rock-hard dick shoving roughly into her cunt. For years she’s been desperate for someone to do this to her – for her – and finally it’s going to happen.


In which I attempt to normalise ten condom fucks

OK so hear me out: ten condom fucks. Fucks which require a large number of condoms. Fucks which start at about 2pm, are interspersed with drinks and chatting and playing Beat Saber and slow-dancing sexily in the middle of the living room. Fucks which ebb and flow between oral, penetration, and naked touching, meaning each time you decide you’re gonna get down to it, you slip on a new condom. Fucks which mean you have to scatter condoms throughout the apartment so there’s always one easily to hand. Ten condom fucks.


The sofa that launched a thousand fucks

It’s everything I hate in a sofa, this thing: brown; leather; thin metal legs; angular armrests that you can’t properly lean against and a seat that’s too narrow for spooning. I hate this sofa so much that when my ex and I hung out together, I used to sit on the floor. Give me well-worn carpet and a numb bum over sticky brown leather any day of the week. I hate this sofa for every single thing… except fucking. This sofa features in almost every filthy post I’ve written on this blog in the last four years. This sofa launched a thousand fucks.