Sometimes something is so fucking sexy it’s tricky to find the words to describe it. But I guess if what I do counts as a ‘job’, that’s what this job is about: finding the words to describe things that are so sexy they transcend language, making me want to curl up into a tiny, horny ball and just rub myself and wail happy things forever. So I’m going to have a go at putting into words the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me: the other day my partner let me watch him wank in the shower. I am now a broken, sated mess.

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I’m kind of obsessed with door cuffs at the moment. Simple velcro handcuffs that come attached to short metal poles, which you use by hooking them over the door. They mean you can effectively tie someone’s wrists up high while you tease them, and my partner uses them to make me beg for it.

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There are lots of reasons why you shouldn’t share pictures of your own dick with people who haven’t expressly asked to see it. This subject has been covered so much now that I hope those who have dicks understand exactly how not to be a dick about nude selfies/dick pics etc. But today I’m not talking to these people: I’m talking to people who receive dick pics and share them publicly because they want to shame the person who sent them. Brace yourselves because this might be a little bit controversial, but I’m hoping by the end of it I can persuade one or two of you that publishing someone else’s dick pic – however good your intentions – is not a good idea.

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When you’re working in porn, how hard is it to get hard? How do performers ensure that they can get and keep erections, sometimes for long stretches at a time? I’ve heard people discussing these questions a lot before. But today’s guest blogger – Marcus Quillan – is here to look at these questions from a different angle: what are the expectations of cis male porn performers in the industry? And what do these expectations tell us about toxic masculinity in porn, and the welfare of performers?

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I’m a big fan of build-up and anticipation. This period of time just before Christmas is often more fun than Christmas itself for me, because while it exists only in my mind it can pretty much always be perfect. The coolest Christmas presents look brilliant under the tree when they’re wrapped, but in the afterglow of the opening frenzy there’s always the worry that the amazing thing you picked out to give your special someone will end up disappointing them. Without the shiny paper it’ll be mundane and obvious. Potentially even embarrassing. The same is true of sex fantasies.

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