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I was casting around recently for blog ideas, and in the gratifyingly deep pool of suggestions, one floated immediately to the top. It came from a regular reader, who got in touch to request a post on my oral sex technique.
“Women’s magazines publish endless articles on how to give the ‘perfect’ blow job,” she said. “We hear much less about how to give head to women, so I’d be interested to hear your perspective on that – plus any tips and techniques for doing it right.”
There aren’t many activities I swoon over more than eating someone out, as various posts and photos from the last couple of years will attest. It’s one of the most sensual, intimate, toe-curlingly pleasurable things about partnered sex, and I thank my lucky stars on a daily basis that I’m marrying someone who enjoys it as much as I do.
Regular readers can probably skip this post. After four years and over 400 posts, most of you know who I am (well…kinda), what I write, and what you can expect to find here.
If you’re visiting my blog for the first time, that probably means you’ve just read my debut piece for Metro.co.uk. All you know about me at this point is that I love it when women sit on my face, and while that’s a decent start, it might be worth putting a bit of meat on those bare bones.
Ok, here we go.
This week, I’m turning over my Sinful Sunday post to one of my Twitter followers, who contacted me recently with this request:
I quietly follow Sinful Sunday, and it feels like a safe and mutually supportive environment, full of good people, but I don’t think I’m ready to start a blog of my own.
You don’t get if you don’t ask, so…if I take a picture to go along with this, is it something you would consider hosting?
When I read the rest of the text she sent me, I was struck by her simple and powerful words, and the bravery behind them. As she said in a follow-up message:
I love my tits. I’m going to miss them. I need to do something daring (for me) that will remain out there.
I think that’s a sentiment we can all applaud.
Attention all! Or all who live in/near London, anyway. As I mentioned in this blog post a few months ago, Liv and I are doing Streak for Tigers again this year.
The event is next Thursday (10th August), and there are still tickets available for anyone who wants to join us, but if getting naked and running round the zoo isn’t your kind of thing, we’re ALSO planning to go for a few (or more than a few) drinks afterwards in Camden, as sort of a pre-wedding celebration with all the friends we’ve made via Twitter and blogging over the last couple of years.
There will be wine, (optional) food, and almost certainly a fair bit of filthy chat. Frankly, I can’t wait. If you’re reading this and would like to come along, email/DM me and I’ll let you know all the details. I realise it’s relatively short notice, but we hope at least a few of you will be able to make it!
Visit Scotland! Seriously, visit Scotland. Come here for Edinburgh and Glasgow, sure – and even for lovely, un-lovely Dundee, the city of jute, jam and journalism – but come most of all for the wide open spaces in-between.
You’ll find those in the Highlands and Islands – on Mull and Skye, up Ben Nevis and along the shores of Loch Lomond – but you don’t have to go that far north.
Consider instead the Cairngorms, home to the highest, coldest, and snowiest plateaux in the British Isles. Here you’ll find five of Scotland’s six highest mountains, and 18 Munros in total, as well as the ski resort of Glenshee. Go conquer one of those craggy, slate-grey peaks, and give yourself some time at the top to enjoy the stunning views!
From the Cairngorms, you can travel south along the A93, the highest major public road in the United Kingdom, towards the glens of Angus and Perthshire. On either side of you, you’ll see deep, u-shaped valleys, formed millions of years ago by giant, slow-moving glaciers. Make sure you find somewhere to stop and take in the bleak majesty of this ancient landscape, surrounded by its eerie, wind-ruffled silence.
By the time you make it down to the charming fort town of Dunkeld, the monochrome panorama will have yielded to lush, verdant forests and the whitewater streams that wend their way through them. This is ‘Big Tree Country’, so park up at The Hermitage and walk through the ancient oaks and Douglas firs to the swirling Black Linn Falls of the River Braan, up at Ossian’s Hall.
For even wilder water, you’ll need to press on to Dundee and across the Tay Bridge to Fife. There you can take the narrow coastal road out to Tentsmuir Beach, a vast stretch of pine-scented sand that runs along the edge of the forest towards St Andrews. The North Sea really lashes the shore here, so get ready for a bracing swim if you do venture out into the waves! Alternatively, just hunker down among the dunes with a packet of sandwiches and a flask of tea…or something a little stronger.
After a full day out in the fresh air, you’ll need somewhere cosy to settle in for the evening. Luckily, Scotland is full of gorgeous boutique hotels, where you can warm yourself by the fire, and enjoy the best freshwater fish and local meat the UK has to offer. Whether you order salmon or trout, grouse or venison, beef or lamb, you’ll tuck in knowing that your food has come straight from the lochs, rivers, farms and forests to your plate.
Chase down your meal with some boozy trifle or cranachan, and a tot or two from your host’s collection of single malts, then burrow under the duvet till morning. I guarantee you’ll wake up ready to do it all over again…
The library door was thick and none of the ordinary sounds that might have reminded them, might have held them back, could reach them. They were beyond the present, outside time, with no memories and no future. There was nothing but obliterating sensation, thrilling and swelling… (Atonement, p. 136)
What if that library door wasn’t so thick? What if you could see us through the glass, fucking against the shelves? My hands on her waist as she clings to the librarian’s ladder, in a desperate attempt to keep herself upright. Calves straining, thighs braced and taut; a study in controlled kineticism.
Today was my birthday – I am now 36 years old. I like to think I went about marking this auspicious occasion in the right way…
Here’s to the very best of years, and ALL the exciting things still to come!
This month’s Sinful Sunday prompt is the letter D, which throws up all sorts of interesting and obvious possibilities. Dick. Dildo. Doggy. Dungeon (we have a cellar, after all!). Dom. Domme…
For anyone wanting to steer clear of nouns, there are plenty of verbs and adjectives that would fit the bill. Dark. Degradation. Deep. Delicate. Delicious. Defiant.
It’s why I really like the letter prompts. They’re so wonderfully simple – and therefore inclusive – but at the same time they leave huge scope for unusual and creative responses. You can take them in almost any direction you like.
This is my fourth post for Smutathon 2017! It’s also my slightly rushed response to this week’s Kink of the Week prompt…
You want to know the best thing about fingering? From a guy’s perspective, I mean. The best thing about fingering – and there’s a pretty long list of contenders – is that you can do it ANYWHERE. Anywhere. Here are some of the places I’ve fingered Liv recently:
- A crowded Soho bar on a Saturday night, while she chatted casually to a couple of her friends
- Our car, while she was driving
- Our car, while I was driving
- The Eurostar, gently, as she drifted in and out of sleep, making those fucking incredible mm-ing noises as I touched her
- Mid-flight, under a blanket – much better than trying to fuck in a cramped aeroplane toilet
- The cinema. Which film? ALL the films!
- The Northern Line
- The Metropolitan Line
- This could go on for a while…