Welcome readers, I like to imagine you’re on the edge of your seats, eagerly anticipating the climax of my efficient dating experience with a man who kindly fulfilled my last-minute request for a date, then came with me to a Travelodge to make out on one of the beds. Quite a few people replied excitedly to part one expecting porn in part two, thus falling into my cunning and evil trap. I wanted to raise your hopes nice and high because that’s the energy I brought with me on this date – it’s the energy I bring on every date. I wasn’t expecting anything, but naturally it would have been a welcome joy to have a sexy dude put it nice and hard inside me. The resulting disappointment will give you a true taste of my dating life because brace yourselves: this man well and truly talked himself out of a fuck.

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I have rarely felt so seen by a guest blog as I do by this one on fucking your ex. Not that I’m going to fuck any of my exes, you understand. Nuh-uh. I probably shouldn’t. Love is an addiction and fucking your ex is like having just a bit of your favourite, favourite thing: like picking up just one cigarette when you’ve quit for three years, then buying a whole pack then another and another… Christ, I felt this blog post resonate in my skin. Please welcome the absolutely brilliant LM, whose last guest post was a searingly gorgeous BDSM love story (and she’s also written about sex supplements and feeling small and cute – check those out too!). Today she is here to talk about fucking your ex. Why you probably shouldn’t… and why she did anyway.

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Check out part one of this story, about the man on the internet who gets off on giving me money. This is part 2, in which I get him to bankroll something bucket list that I could never have done on my own. Note that this piece contains a decision that is morally questionable at best.

It’s been a while since I spoke to my Paypig – sometimes when you’re in a relationship you have to give less energy to your sidequest sexual hobbies. He disappears for periods of time, and it’s been a few months since I asked him for any cash. He’s still there in a few shining bubbles of my memory, and an unfinished blog draft, but we haven’t really been in touch. However, as Julie Andrews wisely notes at the start of The Sound of Music: when the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. And one of the many windows that’s opened for me since I broke up with my boyfriend is the opportunity to chat to my Paypig once more, and see what mischief he might help me make.

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I set out to find a date within twelve hours, using only my phone. Could I summon a man to come hang out with me on the same day I set up my profile, then get him to bang me sideways in the twin room of a Travelodge? If so, this would make for the most efficient dating experience of my entire life to date. How successful was I? Come find out!

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This gorgeous piece on waking him with a blow job is written and read by Molly Moore. Note that this piece involves sleep sex – an activity you should never do without the express prior consent and enthusiasm of your partner. 

When I wrote this piece, Michael and I were still in a long distance relationship. He was in the USA and I was here. Later that month he would get his VISA and move here and 18 months of mainly being apart would finally come to an end. We used to sleep together on Skype but because of the time difference he would get to watch me sleep during his evening and I would do the same during my morning. I wrote this whilst watching him sleep.

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