Hand on heart, I am not a huge fan of condoms. I think they play a vital role in keeping me safe if I’m fucking around, of course, but if I’m in a long term monogamous relationship I’d prefer to rely on my trusty IUD, and let the spunk fall where it may. So I’m not their greatest fan, but if I’m in a situation where it’s sensible to use condoms I’ll always use them, and try to focus on what makes condoms sexy rather than listening to the greedy slag who lives in the back of my brain thirsting, constantly, for jizz. If you’re with someone who doesn’t like condoms and is reluctant to use them, I figured I can give you a little advice in the form of the one question you should ask them. Or if you have a dick and it’s you who doesn’t like them, a question to ponder for yourself: which different condoms have you tried?

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A while back, my site sponsors Hot Octopuss offered to bring some sex toy joy to lockdown by giving away a few of their awesome wank toys. As I’ve already written about many of Hot Octopuss’ kickass sex toys, I asked people to email me with fun new ideas on what they’d like to do with the sex toys on offer. Enter Tess, whose idea leapt out at me immediately, sitting as it does at the neat intersection of nerdery and hotness: she wanted to explore whether gaming with sex toys (i.e. playing her usual video games but with a Hot Octopuss Pulse vibe to distract her) could help her achieve some deliciously fun, edging-style orgasms. I think you’ll agree that although her gaming strategy fell by the wayside, the experiment was definitely worthwhile…

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This gorgeous story is written by Nooky and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net. 

You’re supposed to meet at the elevators at 6.30 — drinks and supper and then, after, the train back to his place, your first time sleeping there. You’ve fucked at yours, a couple times, once in a hotel. A blowjob in the park, behind a fenced-off carousal. The pre-date quickie on his couch last week when you’d picked him up. But this is the first time really going to his.

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This gleefully filthy erotic fiction is written by Kate, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net. 

There’s four of us at the breakfast table – the father, the son, the mother and me. Well, I say four, it’s three – the father, the son and me – the mother is making breakfast like a dutiful housewife and the son gets packed off to school sharpish, leaving the father and the mother and me. His and hers dressing gowns. She balked at my ill-fitting t shirt from some summer festival in ’75. I was a child, then. She didn’t know me, then. Whoever bought this t shirt bought it for a boyfriend or lover who turned out rotten so to the thrift shop it went and I scooped it up and sleep in it, after a boil wash.

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A while ago I wrote a post about how – and why – I love being called a ‘good girl.’ Someone told me recently I should write a pair post about ‘good boy’ and naturally I always aim to do what the fuck I’m told, so here goes. I have frequently used the word ‘good boy’ when I’m fucking someone, but as I’m not naturally very dominant, my reasons for using it and the ways in which I use it may well be very different to your own. Nevertheless, here’s how to get a ‘good boy’ out of me.

Note: this post is quite cisnormative, sorry about that. So far all the good boys I’ve fucked have been cisgender. Just be aware that you don’t need to be cis to be a good boy, and I’ve tried to include some non-dick-focused activities in here as well as the more cock-heavy ones. 

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