Category: Sex

After I published this post on Wednesday, explaining (in some detail) exactly how to suck my cock, I tweeted a fairly straightforward challenge (well, request) to my vulva-owning readers:

Would LOVE to read a version of this from a vulva owner’s perspective. ‘A guide to eating me out’ – anyone fancy writing it?

— Exhibit A (@EA_unadorned) August 30, 2017

It took less than 24 hours for the first essay to hit my inbox, and another two swiftly followed. I decided to save them up and read all three in one session…which turned out to be an excellent idea, because it really brought home (in a wonderful way!) just how different they are. How different we are.

For every woman who likes firm, constant clitoral pressure, there’s another who doesn’t want you to go near her clit at all. For every woman who gets off on rhythmic G-spot stimulation as she’s being licked, you’ll find one who prefers to have your fingers teasing the entrance to her vagina – or buried deep in her arse.

This is my fourth post for Smutathon 2017! It’s also my slightly rushed response to this week’s Kink of the Week prompt…

To learn more about Smutathon, click here – if you’d like to help out with the fundraising effort, go straight to our JustGiving page here!

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…

This is my second post for Smutathon 2017! To learn more about Smutathon, click here – if you’d like to help out with the fundraising effort, go straight to our JustGiving page here!

“Never kiss a Tory!”

That’s right, isn’t it? Never kiss a Tory, not in this political climate, and especially not when they’ve just helped to re-elect (albeit narrowly) a government that has so little regard for the poor, the disabled, the queer, and pretty much anyone who doesn’t look like a cishet, white…Tory.

You can even buy t-shirts proclaiming your purity in that regard. It’s a statement worn as a badge of honour: not only am I very much NOT a Tory, I wouldn’t even consider dirtying my lips with one of the fuckers. That’s how evil they are – they don’t deserve the gift of my body.

And I get it. Physical attraction is great, but most of us want to kiss – or fool around with, or fuck – people we also like and respect, at least on some level. Anyone who identifies as a Tory clearly has a set of priorities and concerns so far removed from those held by most of you reading this post that it can be hard to get your head around why you might want to kiss them, never mind why you would actually go ahead and do it.

On Friday morning, I posted a series of tweets, telling the story of our latest trip to an After Pandora play party:

At @19syllables‘ request, a story…if that’s the right word for it.

— Exhibit A (@EA_unadorned) June 16, 2017

With my work laptop stuck installing endless updates, I was free to cover the evening’s events in a fair amount of detail, and the thread ultimately ran to 43 tweets. I’m not going to rehash them all here, but I do just want to focus a bit more on tweets 2-3 and 30-32 in that thread. Why? Because when @19syllables asked me to ‘tell us a story’, I didn’t just reach for my most recent sex memory – there were other reasons for focusing on that night, and those five tweets kinda sum them up.

Here’s what I wrote:

This is a story about last weekend. About sex that was joyful and uplifting, in a way that we don’t always stop to appreciate at the time. About the kind of sex that nourishes and nurtures the soul – that leaves you replete, brimming, sated…

I feel a surge of utter happiness. I’m happy because I’m having amazing sex with the woman I love, in a room full of people *enjoying* themselves. Everywhere I look, I see joy and pleasure; openness and warmth. There is none of life’s cynicism or meanness here – it’s a perfect bubble. And it’s *fascinating*. Watching other people have sex is such a weird and wonderful thing.

A couple of weeks ago, I read this super-interesting post by Kate Sloan on the gender orgasm gap, and I’ve been thinking about it off-and-on ever since. In part that’s because I’ve somehow ended up in my own orgasm gap experiment; I recently went 10 days without coming, which you can read about here, while Livvy has been enjoying daily orgasms for the last three weeks, thanks to Tabitha Rayne’s ’30 Day Challenge’ – often with me lending a hand, alongside various other body parts.

However, Kate’s post also made me scroll back through my own experiences over the last 14 years. Not to figure out whether I think the gender gap is really ‘a thing’ – clearly it is – but to help provide context and data for the instinctive response I had to what she wrote.

What was that response? I guess the best way to describe it would be a mix of sadness and frustration. Sadness because orgasms are wonderful, and even though there’s much more to sex than whether or not you get off, it would be great if everyone who wants to come when they fuck was able to do so. And frustration because…well, because as guys there is both a huge and a hugely limited amount we can (should!) be doing to help enable and facilitate that.