Tag Archives: comedy

Guest blog: Giggling during a kink scene

Hands up: I confess I’ve been guilty of taking sex far too seriously. In the past, when I was young and awkward and terrified of being laughed at, I found it hard to see why I should bring laughter into the bedroom. These days, though, thanks to some fabulously laid-back, horny people, there are plenty of bursts of giggly joy in my bedroom. Few that are as creative as some of @ht_honey‘s amazing examples, though! You may remember Honey from this awesome piece about subdrop. Well, today she’s back with an absolutely gorgeous piece on the joy of giggling during a kink scene. I challenge you to read right through to the end without breaking into a massive grin…


Ironic sexism? Hahaha you’re killing me

Why do women wear make-up and perfume? Because they’re ugly and they smell. Hahaha hahaha. Hahahahaha oh God hahahaha my sides. Best joke ever. Wait – why aren’t you laughing? That one’s a classic! I thought it would have you rolling in the aisles! Today we’re going to talk about ironic sexism and comedy. Strap the fuck in.


Fantastic guest blogs from 2014 – part 1

I mentioned last week that I’d been doing an archive trawl, and had come across so many brilliant guest blogs I wanted to resurface a few of them for those who weren’t with me way back in the beginning. Continuing that series, here are a few fantastic guest blogs from 2014 – a time when most of us were more hopeful and full of joy. Take a trip back into the past to read about an incredible threesome, foot fetishes, puppy play, sex and stand-up comedy, and why early sex ed is so important…


Two things: Vaginismus Awareness Day and Fleabag

Normally with ‘two things‘ I pick one good bit of sex news and one bad bit, so I can take the piss out of the bad thing and recommend the good. Instead, this week I have two things that are ‘good’ (Vaginismus Awareness Day and Fleabag) and as a bonus I have a teeny rant about a bad thing, which I’m burying at the end so you don’t think I’m a twat. Ready? Let’s go.


Someone else’s story: sex and stand up comedy

Those of you who know me know I love comedy almost as much as I love dick. Anyone with the ability to make me laugh gets bonus attractiveness points and most likely a large slice of my heart. So I’m delighted to welcome this week’s guest blogger. RB is a stand-up comic who struggles with one of the eternal dilemmas: how do you keep a straight face when something sexy also makes you want to burst out laughing? Sex and stand up comedy wouldn’t have struck me as a natural pairing – I’m a notoriously miserable twat when it comes to laughter during sex, and as a general rule if you giggle when I’m naked I will burst into horribly unattractive tears and order you out of the bedroom. But thinking about some of the stranger things we do in pursuit of orgasm, I have to admit RB’s got a point: sometimes we are hilarious creatures.

Sex and stand up comedy

‘When I spank you, what do you say…?’
‘Well, little slut?’
‘I don’t know, what DO I say?! This is sex, not Mastermind!”

And we collapse into giggles, in a sweaty, semi-clothed heap, and the moment’s gone.

When I first became interested in BDSM recently, I thought the greatest conflict it would present would be with my feminism. How, after all, could you campaign for sexual autonomy and equality, then be completely dominated in the bedroom, and called all sorts of names you’d seethe with anger at in the outside world?

Obviously, I realised quickly that it chimes perfectly with feminism; you can do whatever you damn well please in the bedroom with a consenting and understanding partner, whether it be being beaten with a riding crop, pissing on someone (I’ve heard that’s a thing…), or straightforward missionary in the dark.

No, the biggest conflict I’m experiencing; being a sub and being a smart-arse.

I’ve been performing stand-up comedy for over a year. I’m a fledgling but I’m pretty damn good. I also perform spoken word poetry and improv – I feel I could, just about, call myself a ‘comic’ without sounding like a massive arse. It’s my life; I love it, I’m good at it, and I want to make it into a living someday. But with this, my personality has shifted into one of ‘tiny loud clown’; I take very little seriously and spend an inordinate amount of time trying to make people laugh (including strangers). If I can find an acceptable opportunity to take the piss, I’ll take it. So, how on earth am I meant to react when a man pulls me onto his knee and slaps my arse, again and again, whispering very low, ‘fucking jailbait.’

A handful of people that I’ve spoken to have assumed I’m a domme, and I can understand why. I’m loud and confident to the point of hyperactivity (off-set by the occasional depressive episode where I stay in bed for two days, cry and cannon ball Pringles tubes). I’m very argumentative and opinionated, and I talk about sex, in and out of stand-up, with a frequency and volume which amuses and alarms people in equal measure.

But, BUT, this is the thing. Performing is exhausting. Commanding an audience’s attention can take all your nerve, courage and confidence; and I do an awful lot of it. When I get to the bedroom with someone; to relinquish control, to hand over the keys, is such a relief. It’s like taking your shoes off at the end of the day. I can relax. I’m in someone else’s hands. And oh, what capable hands they can be. As refreshing as it can be for a loud little idiot like me to quiet down and obey orders, it’s equally fun to watch a soft-spoken, polite, unassuming person take the command they might not otherwise have in their everyday life; to watch them transform into a beast who’s going to fucking have you – use you and bite you and turn you into a panting wreck.

‘God, you’re so fucking wet, you little slut. You want me to untie you? You want me to fuck you? You want to feel my cock inside you, do you?’


‘Yes, WHAT…?’

‘Yes, sir. Oh, fuck, FUCK…’

Keeping in character is tricky. Sex is never like the movies. There are knees slamming into faces, narrow beds to fall off, crap knots, sneezing. Having to move out of a kneeling position during a spanking because you desperately need to blow your nose. Hearing the word ‘balls’ and bursting out laughing. Just realising the absurdity of the entire situation and failing to take it seriously. I’m a beginner, and I’m still stumbling through a sea of spankings and commands and filthy hard limit lists, and I’m still going to get the giggles. Occasionally I worry that I won’t be able to stop; I’ll degenerate into a pile of hysterical laughter, those fits that make your stomach ache and tears leak out of your eyes, and I’ll totally undermine the person that I’m with.

But, when you’re on your knees with your wrists tied in front of you, and he’s behind you, fucking you in short, hard strokes; slapping your arse with an open palm, chuckling darkly as you gasp at the sound, and the quick burst of pain, calling you a ‘filthy…little…BITCH.’ and you feel as if you might either come or go absolutely fucking mad…

…it’s hard to make a joke. Or make any noise at all, except to moan, and to swear, and to scream.