Welcome, friends, to my grubby little corner of the internet. A corner so strewn with obscenity that the UK government has decided you must prove you’re a grown-up before you can access certain parts of it. The UK’s new Online Safety Act has come into force, so UK people might have noticed a bunch of websites suddenly demanding you take a selfie, share your credit card details, or jump through another hoop to prove that you’re over 18. Quite a few of my friends have been discussing this in the pub, because for understandable reasons people who aren’t embedded in the world of online pornography or internet law are suddenly curious about why the internet is now so very broken. They’re also often convinced that the government will change its mind and therefore no one really needs to worry. I’ve had this conversation so many times now that I reckon I’ve got the basis for a fairly solid layperson’s guide to age verification: what it is, how it affects you, and why we absolutely, genuinely do need to worry.

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We’re sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, legs entwined. There’s something chill and easy on the telly and I’m enjoying the sensation of his hand stroking up my thigh. He moves his palms in measured, predictable strokes. From my bare knee, up and over the fabric of my shorts to the top, and then back again. My skin tingles and my cunt starts to ache.

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Almost every guy I have ever dated has told me that if they had tits themselves, they’d spend all day just staring at and playing with them. I am not getting ready to snark, or shame anyone for saying this, in fact I completely understand. Tits are fucking awesome. The thing that makes me horniest about my own body is the excellent rack stuck to the front of it. Although I don’t spend all day groping them or staring (I’m a busy girl), I do spend a fairly sizeable chunk of my time being aware of them – enjoying how they look and feel – so I thought I’d have a go at answering the unspoken question hovering beneath all those comments from all those past boyfriends. Here’s what it feels like to have tits.

Note: I’m a cis woman who has mostly dated cis dudes. I’ve tried not to be too gendered in this because tits are not exclusive to one gender, but my perspective is naturally coloured by my experiences. 

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This week’s guest blogger has already brought much joy with this amazing post about the sexiness of armpit hair. Today, he’s back on another topic very close to my heart: the ways that porn can benefit and improve our sex lives. As someone who’s been creating sex content for over a decade, personally I am bored of having the conversation about whether porn is ‘good’ or ‘bad’, ‘harmful’ or ’empowering’. The simple truth is that porn, like all other media, can be both good and bad depending on what’s being produced. And wrapped up in that truth is another very beautiful one: some porn scenes can genuinely change your life for the better. Please welcome today’s guest, who is here to tell you about the porn video that did exactly that for him…

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Back in the day, I used to get annoyed with sex toy companies who were obsessed with making their vibrators ‘cute’. I was pissed off with the assumption that I wouldn’t have a wank unless someone had completely desexualised a dildo by slapping a rabbit on the front of it. Or a dolphin. Or Hello Kitty. I think I was mostly annoyed because this masturbatory menagerie only seemed to gather around toys aimed at women: I’ve never seen Fleshlight slap an adorable squirrel or a pair of googly eyes onto one of their dick sheaths. You can read my 12-year-old cute sex toys rant here if you like, but only if you remember that I had a lot of anger back then, was wildly cisnormative, and on balance almost certainly wrong. Because today I am here to sing the praises of a sex toy that is a) capable of delivering some very impressive wanks and b) undeniably cute as all fuck. Allow me to introduce the Doxy Go.

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