There are two threads to the story I want to tell today. The first thread is so obvious it feels almost trite to mention it: I want to tell you about a particularly brilliant g-spot dildo, which stimulates me in a way not many others do. The second thread is about being hand-fucked. Not ‘wanked off’, not ‘masturbated’: being hand-fucked. Sometimes I write fucking stories that are about speed or enthusiasm or energy. I’ll tell you that this or that fuck was intense, or fun, or orgasmic. This fuck, though? This fuck was thorough.

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He’s on the phone in the living room and I can hear one half of the conversation. I understand about twenty percent of it. The other eighty percent is a delicious mixture of authority, skill, and words I don’t really understand that are directly related to his job. A job which I know he is pretty fucking good at. I boil the kettle. I grind coffee beans. I prepare him a coffee so delicious that when he gets off the phone he’ll acquiesce to my request: please please please can I suck your dick now? He’s in ‘work mode’ and it’s intensely sexy – I want to start from flaccid, and have the joy of sucking him hard.

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Most of us dread being asked “what are you thinking?” – it’s like a bucket of cold water chucked on you from the sky, interrupting whatever train of thought you were pursuing. Inviting you to pluck the most recent flash of memory or fantasy from your head, and spit it out into the world. Without context, without nuance. It’s just there. Sometimes I am thinking thoughts so bizarre that I wouldn’t want him to hear them unprepared. Other thoughts are so dark that I wouldn’t voice them at all. But I like that he asks. I love that he asks. And for that, he deserves answers.

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Some people enjoy sex tech because they like nerding out over the technical possibilities. Others are sex toy collectors – equally intrigued by the latest smart vibrator as they are by a beautiful dildo. Some, like me, are keen on sex tech for both the reasons above, but with a side-order of ‘this kicked off a filthy fantasy.’ So, as inspired by the sex tech session at the latest Eroticon, I want to run you through a few sexy fantasies inspired by interesting kit.

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For the last couple of months, when we kissed, the first thought to flash through my mind was: “this is supposed to be fun.” I told myself over and over, like a mantra, willing it to come true. Sometimes it did, more often it didn’t. The actual joy of sex was lost to me, and I worried I’d lost it forever.

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