Tag Archives: communication

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All the ways in which Star Wars stopped me getting laid

OR: The inevitable folly of pretending you like shit just to get people to fuck you

I fucking hate Star Wars. I hate it. I hate it more than any reasonable human could be expected to hate a thing. Are the films themselves shit? Maybe. I have only seen one and a half of them (don’t ask me which ones, I could not give one iota of a toss).

I hate Star Wars because, on numerous occasions, my ignorance of it has stood in the way of me getting laid.

I am a fan of nerdy people. I think they’re hot and I like to fuck them. I would happily take five or six of the nerdiest people I know, lie them in a row on a giant double bed covered in Darth Vader bedsheets, and fuck them until one or other of them awakened the force.

Like Doctor Who, I tried to get into Star Wars because (shameless, shameless, shameless) quite a few nerdy guys I fancied kept talking about it, and I figured that if I wanted to get some geek dick I would need to learn what a Milennium Falcon was. Luckily for me, Doctor Who is really good, so what began as a gentle foray into something (“I like horror so I’ll go in with Weeping Angels and OH MY GOD THIS IS EXCELLENT PLEASE PUT ALL OF IT INTO MY BRAIN”) turned into a pretty long term love affair.

Unluckily for me, Star Wars is a tedious, overhyped shitshower, and Luke Skywalker isn’t even hot.

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Don’t tell me sucking dick is easy

Today a guy wrote a Vice article about why he doesn’t want to eat pussy. There are a number of things I could say in response to his article, mostly involving swearwords, and desperate pleas that he stop repeating the same tedious bullshit that comes out whenever any straight bloke thinks he has a Scorching Hot Take on the subject of eating cunt.

As a general rule, my opinion on cunnilingus is that it’s not really my bag, but I’ll enjoy doing it to a lady if I’m fucking her. If you want to eat it, tuck in, but I won’t shame you if you’d rather not.

However, what I DO object to is the implication that it’s far more onerous to ask someone to give cunnilingus than it is to ask for a blow job. In the piece, the author says:

“The penis is a simple thing – it’s hard to get things completely wrong.”

To which I reply: HOW FUCKING HARD ARE YOU SHITTING ME, SUNSHINE?

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Guest blog: The poly break-up that never was

Blog removed at the author’s request.

Beware the Superdom, and other people who tell you they’re good in bed

There’s a man who is half-human and half-legend. He is fierce, strong, powerful. He can pick you up with his bare hands, flip you over his knee, and give you a spanking so perfect that it will transport you to a new realm of ecstasy. Afterwards he will fuck you so skilfully that you will become aware of a new level of orgasmic joy.

That man is the Superdom.

If you’re lucky enough to meet him, it will probably be on a kink forum somewhere. Perhaps he will write a post explaining to other, lesser Doms how to control a submissive, hinting that if you’re lucky you could be one of them. Maybe he slides into your private messages with an order to “Obey.” If you don’t immediately slick your knickers/pop a huge, granite-hard boner, then you are probably not the submissive for him. He does not want your questions or your negotiation: he demands only your unquestioning obedience.

Superdom, sadly, is all too real. I met a fair few incarnations of him when I was pretty active on the kink scene. He’d look at you with smouldering eyes, and tell you exactly what he was going to do. He’d usually let you know that you could only come if he ordered you to, and that you’d come at exactly the moment he specified (yeah, right). He’d give you lists of punishments and tasks and insist on you calling him ‘Sir’, even if you’d never agreed to submit to him.

He was a dick.

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Guest post: Why do I get nervous before a BDSM scene?

I panic about everything, regardless of whether it’s actually worth panicking about. Good friends, acquaintances and even my own Mum: all these people are in the dark about the terror I have when I hit ‘send’ on an email to them and then immediately imagine everything collapsing around me, when they interpret a casual joke as a genuine insult. Don’t get me started on the times I have to assert myself or the things that actually matter

Because of my permanent ‘red alert’ anxiety levels, when this week’s guest blogger got in touch with an idea about getting nervous before a BDSM scene, I leapt on it.

January Chopin is here to give you a gorgeously personal, amazingly hot, tinglingly nervewracking account of a BDSM scene. And I think a lot of people will see themselves in it…

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