“Every time I come round,” my new boyfriend notes, “you have different dicks all over the place.” That’s right! I know how to impress a gentleman. Most of the time, the only sex toys that’ll be on display around my flat are my staple wank tools: one dildo, a wand and a couple of different bullet vibes that I swap in and out depending on which one is charged. But lately I’ve been branching out – dusting off some of the other things from my collection so I can mix up my masturbation even more. I could try and tell him that it’s because I’ve a discerning vagina like Epiphora or that I’m a wise and serious reviewer like my colleague Amy of Coffee and Kink. But the truth is, as always, far grubbier than that: I have loads of sex toys around the place because at the moment I’m so horny that if I don’t mix up my wanking tools I am liable to turn my clit numb from experiencing the same sensation over and over again. Picture the scene: a carnage of cocks, each one becoming obsolete within a couple of days of use because I’ve got NRE and I’m so aflame with excitement that I’m wanking four or five times a day. Desperately switching between rumbly bullets, buzzy ones, thudding wands and rabbit vibes just to try and surprise my junk into wringing one more orgasm from a body that has already been thoroughly rinsed. Now understand how grateful I was when my site sponsors Whipple Tickle sent through this rose vibe clit toy: a sex toy that provides a genuinely new sensation with which none of my other toys can compete. Hallelujah! A change really is as good as a rest!

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Hey! I realised recently that I have something in common with my site sponsors Hot Octopuss (and it’s not just that we really love sex toys). Turns out it’s been ten years since they launched the kickass vibrating dick toy PULSE, and coincidentally it’s also been about ten years since I quit my day job and started blogging full-time. I wish I could say I’ve had the same success they have, selling millions of toys and creating oceans of spaff, but to be honest I haven’t sold that many toys. I reckon spaff-wise I could fill a modest pond or two, though. Maybe the Serpentine, at a push. To celebrate their ten years, they launched a really beautiful limited-edition version of their most popular sex toy – Hot Octopuss PULSE Dragon Eye – and I thought I’d take the opportunity to shout about some of the hottest adventures I’ve had with mine…

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Note: this post contains minor spoilers for the filthy scenes in Saltburn. Which I (obviously) loved. 

I’m not going to do it.

Damn right you’re not going to do it. 

Even though… there isn’t really any harm in doing it?

Don’t you dare do it.

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I follow a number of sex educators, researchers and journalists who are sceptical about the idea of ‘sex addiction’ – where an activity is so wrapped in societal shame, it’s hard to separate out what might be a ‘problem’ for an individual with what constitutes simply a ‘problem’ for a conservative society. As a result, I’ve always been hugely wary of anyone trying to tell me (or people I know) that we might be sex ‘addicts’ as opposed to just ‘fans of fucking.’ But as yet I’ve never had anyone write about sex addiction for the guest blog, so I was delighted when Big Ed Magusson pitched me a post about exactly this. He’s here to share his own journey exploring addiction and libido. If you would like to read more, his collection of short stories – Addictive Desires – is available on Amazon and Gumroad. And do check out his website as well if you’d like to read more of his work.

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As with literally any blog post that discusses physical beauty, this piece is going to come with an important note: what I am about to do is fetishise/objectify/admire/wax lyrical about one particular physical feature, but understand that you do not need to have this feature in order to be beautiful. You can be beautiful with whatever you’ve got, there is no one correct way to be visually stunning, and I have dated many gorgeous people who do not happen to share the characteristic I am about to so thoroughly cream my knickers over. In short: not everyone is bald, and that is OK. But my boyfriend happens to be, and there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t cast my eyes towards the heaven I’m pretty sure does not exist, to thank a God I definitely don’t believe in for sending me a hot bald guy. I can (and assuredly WILL) write essays later about the joy of dating a hot bald guy from a tactile perspective, but for now I’m taking a rare turn into the visual. Here are my hot bald boyfriend’s three best angles, thank you so much for asking.

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