Watching my boyfriend masturbate is one of my favourite treats. If you offered me the choice between it, or a trip to Thorpe Park, I’d tell you to crack out the lube because the Saw rollercoaster is disappointing in comparison. I’ve already told you about watching him wank in the shower, so for those who enjoyed that (and there are, apparently, plenty of you), here’s a more recent iteration: watching my boyfriend masturbate to porn. Let’s break down some of the hottest moments in a kind of highlight reel.

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This is a post written for Masturbation Monday, inspired by the lovely image above from Floss Does Life. I am terrible at taking part in blogging memes, but I’ve wanted to do Masturbation Monday for a while because I really enjoy reading the hot entries people contribute each week. This week I spotted this photo and it gave me an instant idea for this woman, and this quick story.

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Strap in for this week’s amazing guest blog: Katy is here to talk about tit wanks. I want to give you a proper introduction to Katy, because she’s the awesome creator of the Sexpots Podcast, a weekly chat about all things filthy and fun in which 3 of us (Katy, Bitsy and I) pull random sex topics out of a pot and chat about our experiences with them, and play games that involve us competing to guess obscure kinks. So far we’ve covered such topics as spanking, squirting, anal and a whole host of ‘first times’. During a recent recording, one of the topics that came out of the pot was ‘tit wanks’, and Bitsy and I sat open-mouthed in awe as Katy taught us how to deliver tit wanks with joy and panache. She’s here to share with you the secret, and how tit wanks taught her to love her tits…

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The last time I had an orgasm was yesterday afternoon. Lying on the bed in the spare room with my jeans and knickers round my ankles, rubbing one out to the sounds in my head – of leather smacking on skin, and grunting, and dirty words.

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A confession: when you’re out, sometimes I lie on your bed and bury my face in your bedsheets. Huffing the lingering scent of summer sweat like it’s perfumed roses or myrrh or forty-quid wine. I am creepy, so of course I sniff your bedsheets. And that’s not all I do.

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