Yearly round up take two! Yesterday I did the top sexy blog posts I’ve written here, as measured by Google Analytics. Today it’s time for the guest blogs. I’m constantly amazed and delighted that so many incredible people are willing to share their sex stories and ideas here, and intrigued to see which ones you click on most frequently.

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During that down-time between Christmas and new year, we’re meant to take stock of things which went well over the last 12 months. So although 2016 has basically been an absolute shitshow of a year, there are some lovely highlights which I’m going to wrap round me like a cosy blanket to try and keep the hellish nightmares out. Tomorrow I’ll be doing a round-up of the most popular guest blogs of 2016, but for now here’s a list of the most popular sexy blog posts from me, as measured by Google Analytics. Get stuck in, share if you like them, and feel free to tell me in the comments if there are particular things you’d like to see more of as we welcome 2017.

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Six guys in t-shirts or shirts. Naked from the waist down. Me in a soft cotton top. No bra, no knickers, no trousers, no socks. We are the opposite of topless. And we’re perfectly dressed to play a game.

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This blog post started out as an exploration of why it would be sexy for a monster to devour me, and turned into something approaching an actual scary story. Please don’t read if you’re easily freaked out by things like death, blood and devourment. On the other hand, if you love creepy Halloween sex stuff, this might be your cup of tea.

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I write confessional sex stories. Which is a weird thing to say because I’m not really confessing sins or expecting absolution. I’m just telling stories and expecting readers – if they’re kind enough – to click or share or stump up some cash for my books.

Confession is a pretty horrible word – drowning in centuries of expectation. It conjures images of the religious urge to ‘cleanse’ people of their misdeeds via exposure. Telling your stories so that others can judge you: shout ‘shame!’ as you’re paraded through the town. When you call it ‘confessional’, it’s a wonder anyone chooses to write stories about themselves.

But we do.

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