If someone were to ask me what I bring to the table, sex-wise, I wouldn’t mention specific parts of my body. My body is fine, my hair is fine, my clothes are basically clothes. I like to think I’ve got a pretty filthy grin, but apart from that my physicality is nothing to either write home or pen a strongly-worded letter of complaint about. So if we’re having sex, what I’m bringing to the party isn’t my body, it’s my attitude. To be blunt: my enthusiasm.

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The fabulous @EuphemiseThis is back! And she almost needs no introduction, because she’s written so much hot and brilliant stuff here before – velvet fetishes, getting spanked by a couple, her first threesome… she’s packed a hell of a lot of fun into an incredibly sexy life so far. Today she’s here to talk about her changing relationship to her body as she gets older, challenging some of the bullshit about what ‘should’ be, and sharing a bit of the joy of fucking in her forties.

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Today’s guest blog got me so fucking horny. I’m not going to give it a much longer intro than that, but when this week’s guest blogger – Jocket – sent it through to me I was very annoyed that there were people in my house so I couldn’t immediately go and wank. It’s about skin hunger, and lust, and not making eye contact. Yearning and aching and relief. I adore it.

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Once, I asked him to give me the first stroke as slowly as he possibly could. Prolong that initial shot of cock for as long as humanly possible. From the moment the head of his dick touched the wet lips of my cunt to the final stretch as it nudged against my cervix: make the first stroke of that fuck really fucking last.

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This hot, sensual massage story is written and read by the fabulous Sherryl Blu. 

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