Forgive the meta-blog, this is one for other sex writers and bloggers, so if you’re just here for the filth or the ranting, check out a random archive post or two and normal service will resume on Sunday.

When I first started sex blogging, I didn’t really think it’d be a big thing. I thought I’d write some half-baked opinions and spit out some of the sexy stories that I was itching to tell people, and then one day I’d shrug my shoulders and just… well… stop. Then some people started reading it. They were joined by more people, and in the brief periods of time between writing a blog and worrying that it wasn’t any good, I managed to start doing things like writing articles for other websites, and a book, and other stuff.

Then I went to a conference in which loads of people gave me advice on how to be better, and it was amazing. It basically answered a whole bunch of questions I had about sex blogging, like ‘how do you get people to pay you to write about hot things on the internet?’ and ‘how do I pitch articles to people who have never heard of me before?’ To be honest, the only question that remained unanswered was ‘how much time do you spend masturbating?’

(more…)

God, I love nipples.

Never has a bunch of nerve-endings been collected so neatly together in one place only to be so frequently overlooked as on the human nipple.

Sure, they have a legit purpose – they can sometimes be used to feed babies. Occasionally they can be used to shock facebook users into pressing the ‘OMG get rid of it I am so horrified’ button. After a lot of experimentation, I can tell you that they can’t be used as an alternative to a fingerprint to unlock the iPhone 5.

But what they can be used for is to push me swiftly over the edge into fairly intense arousal.

(more…)

I’ve always hated the phrase ‘my other half’ – it implies a lack of completeness about me. That I, on my own, am never quite full or rounded. Not quite enough.

I hate ‘him indoors,’ which implies the kind of comfortable, settled domesticity that I’ve never really felt with anyone.

I’m ambivalent about ‘boyfriend’ and ‘partner’ feels too grown up.

I panic at the thought of a ‘husband.’

‘Boy’ is becoming tired, and not a natural descriptor for someone in their 30s.

Says ‘girl’ on the net. At the age of 30.

‘Mate’ is either too pally or too like an Attenborough documentary, depending on how you interpret it.

‘Lover’ makes me cringe.

Some days he’s my guy, my dude. That dickhead. And often he’s a twat.

But maybe my obsession with the lack of a proper word belies what the actual problem is with any of these statements: the ‘my’ that comes at the front of them.

No one is ever mine, of course.

(more…)

If you could see the email thread that led to the publication of this guest blog, you’d think I had a fetish for Marks and Spencer. I don’t, though – honest. What I do have a thing for, though, is subtle public affection. Those snatched moments when you touch each other, or snog, or run a hand up under your partner’s clothes when you think that no one’s watching. So this guest blog, by Desire on Wheels, naturally presses a hell of a lot of my buttons. What’s more, it’s an insight into disability and sexuality that taught me more than I ever thought I’d know about early 20th century botanical gardens.

You’ll see what I mean.

 

(more…)

“Dear GOTN, despite the fact that you’re a grumpy arse for most of the year, I’d like to invite you to my birthday party…

Ooh! A party! How fun!

“It will be held on Saturday at 8pm…”

Yay! I’m free on Saturday! I can go!

“At this address…

I’ll find it on Gmaps. Oooh, I’m so excited!

“The fancy dress theme will be…”

Shit it, I’m not going.
(more…)