I woke up last Thursday with the loveliest, softest feeling: like I’d just had a truly sexy dream. It was hyper-realistic, and that realism lingered in my mind as I opened my eyes. Snuggling down beneath the duvet in a winter-warm bed, I ran hands over my body and allowed the details to return to me piece by piece.

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As is now traditional, when Christmas rolls round I like to use my one superpower (being incredibly horny) to remind you about the amazing companies who help to keep the lights on here at GOTN HQ. Basically what I’m about to do is give a run-down of the awesome folks who support my work here, and tease you with fun suggestions about ways to use their products/services in your own bedroom. If you’re in the market for sexy Christmas gifts – for a loved one or yourself – you should consider stealing one of my excellent horny ideas, and buying from these people who have been instrumental in bringing you the smut I churn out each year. If you aren’t in the market for them right now, then I hope you’ll read on anyway for the hot kicks and kinky tricks.

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I love Doctor Nerdlove. He’s a brilliant advice columnist whose responses often give me a new perspective on love and relationships. He is kind and patient, but willing to call someone on their bullshit when that is required. This response to a writer who is bitter about women was especially exceptional. I’m opening with a thorough arse-kissing because for the first time in ages I disagree with something he wrote. It’s a really old post, and normally I wouldn’t highlight those because who gives a fuck that I disagree with something that someone wrote ten years ago? I want to discuss it, though, because the emotional wail of anguish that sits at the heart of why I disagree has been on my mind a lot lately. I don’t want to do that without first telling you how much I love his work, though. Tl;dr – I’m using an old Doctor Nerdlove post as the springboard for a rant, but you should know I massively respect him and if he ever finds himself in London I will buy him a pint and a pasty by way of apology. Let’s talk about compromise in relationships, and why I never want anyone to ‘settle’ for me.

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I roll on top of him first thing in the morning. He’s awake, but pretending not to be. As I grip his dick and squeeze gently just below the coronal ridge, it pulses hotter and harder in the palm of my hand. When I start to stroke it, a smile flickers briefly at the corner of his lips. He suppresses it, then feigns a still-sleepy half-stretch to make the angles easier for me to straddle him and hop aboard.

This post is not consensual non-consent. Everything that happens is extremely consensual. However, the fantasy I tell this guy while we’re in bed does have notes of CNC, coercion and fucking-as-punishment. I maintain that it is not a CNC story, rather it is a consensual story about two people who enjoy playing in this fantasy space. It’s a hill my career will probably die upon at some point, but for what it’s worth I think it’s more than possible to present these fantasies in an ethical way, and part of doing that means warning you that you’re about to read something in this vein. 

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Telling people I’m a sex blogger usually leads to one or two misconceptions: that I am constantly shagging, or that I am shagging in such wildly creative ways that no normal human could keep up with the carnival of kink. But that’s not really what I’m about. I’m not obsessed with the quantity of sex I’m having, nor the depths of any particular depravity. In fact, I reckon I could have relatively vanilla sex once a month and still be eager and intense enough about it – and the fantasies that lead up to or come out of it – to write a passable sex blog. I’m not a nymphomaniac or the kinkiest woman alive: I’m just a plain old sex nerd.

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