“I just need you to know,” one guy told me, before we started fucking, “that I very rarely come during penetrative sex. In fact, I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that’s happened.” It didn’t matter who he was fucking or where his dick happened to be, he had very rarely ever come inside. You’d hope that someone as body-positive and sex-knowledgeable as Girl on the fucking Net would instinctively have some bon mot at the ready to put him at ease and reassure him that delayed ejaculation (or an inability to ejaculate full-stop) is common, and nothing to be ashamed of. And I did but… Although my rational brain was more than happy to explain that I don’t actually need champagne fountains of jizz in order to be sexually satisfied depressingly – embarrassingly – my heart fluttered with something a little different. When he told me how few people had managed to get him to come inside them, something deep in my soul chimed in with: ‘I bet I can do it, though.’

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