Category: Sex

On Sunday morning, I sat down with lovely fellow blogger Coffee & Kink, to talk about pegging! Pegging, for those of you who don’t know, is the act of a woman (or any person with a vulva) fucking a man (or any person with a penis) anally with a strap-on. The term was coined when it won a contest in Dan Savage’s “Savage Love” column to name the act!

CK is a queer cis woman. She identifies as polyamorous, a swinger, and a mainly submissive switch. I’m a straight cis man, and…well you broadly know what kind of stuff I like!

Here’s what we had to say…

EA: Right, ok! So pegging. It might be useful to start with a bit of context here. At Eroticon, we discussed the possibility of you writing a guest post for me, and a few days later you suggested pegging as a potential topic. Can you explain a bit about why you landed on that, and what you had in mind?

As long-time readers of this blog will know, I have a strong aversion to articles, blog posts and advice columns that talk in prescriptive terms about sex and dating, or which make sweeping, universal statements about the way we fuck. It’s not just that they’re often preachy, prudish and judgemental; more fundamentally, human sexuality covers such a broad spectrum of kinks, desires, and interests that the Venn diagram of what I like in bed versus what you like in bed will always contain a healthy amount of symmetric difference.

For that reason, I’ve always tried to avoid using my own sexual experiences as a template for what other people should do or what other people enjoy. That’s occasionally a bit of a balancing act: when I wrote about hand jobs, for example, or about vaginal ‘tightness’, part of my aim was to reassure people who’d been fed damaging messages about what men want from women, so I consciously chose to discuss both subjects in more general terms. However, I consider those posts to be exceptions rather than the rule; I use this space to share stories from my sex life, not to tell my readers what they should do with theirs.

The reason for bringing all of that up now is that I read something on Twitter recently that made me sad. Someone I follow was expressing frustration with her lack of sexual experience, and questioning why men would want her when she is “all enthusiasm but no technique”. It wasn’t quite a lightbulb moment, but the more I thought about it afterwards, the more angry I got with the way mainstream sex advice has created this notion that there is a right and a wrong way to ‘do’ sex – a standard user manual for the human body, which can be studied and applied to each new partner.

Twice now, I’ve published short collections of things I’d been fantasising about over the previous 24 hours. Each post was written at a time when I was struggling to focus on longer, more structured pieces – in part because I was so uncontrollably horny that my brain was just jumping from one hot scenario to the next.

My sex drive seems to have peaked again recently, and that’s coincided with another mini period of writer’s block. My drafts folder contains half a dozen posts that I’ve either abandoned or mothballed, and I have a similar number that haven’t yet made it out of my head. Their time will come, but for now I’m going to offer up another 24-hour snapshot of exactly what’s been keeping me on edge. I hope you enjoy it…

I am not, by nature, a morning person, and that remains true even on days when I’m getting up to do something I love, like play hockey.

In fact, early hockey matches can be a real pain. It’s not just that I lose one half of my weekend lie-in – with 70 minutes of running around to prepare for, I also have to make sure I’m up in time to eat, hydrate, and generally cleanse my body of the previous night’s excesses. Adulting 101, some would call it.

Today’s game gets underway at 10.30, which meant my morning routine started with an 8.15 alarm call. I rolled out of bed, drank a pint of water, padded into the kitchen, and turned on the oven. Food is rarely far from the front of my mind, and even though I don’t like to eat too much before I play sport, I pretty much always have a breakfast plan. On this occasion, that involved hash browns, eggs, and maybe a small slice of cake.

With the oven heating, I went back to bed and set another alarm for 8.35. I knew I had to leave the flat at 9.10, so the idea was to stick the hash browns in for 20 minutes, scramble some eggs, have a cup of tea, and get myself ready to wolf down my food at 9.