Three Reasons to Talk More about Sex

This is a sponsored post. However I only ever write and/or publish sponsored pieces if they fit into the usual SDRR remit – no jarring adverts for vitamin pills or pyramid schemes here!  Not enough people do Honestly, the world would be a much happier place if people just talked about what turned them on. Talking about things normalises them and sex is no different. There is too much shame and stigma attached to sex even in these far more enlightened days and it’s only made worse by people’s reticence to talk about it. If something is hidden away,...

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Oh my fucking god I don’t even know where to start with this. A friend sent me a link this morning to a Facebook page called ‘Passion Dust’ which apparrrrrrently is a dissolving capsule of glitter that you shove up your flue in order to make it sparkle. I’m not linking to it because so help me it is one of the worst things I’ve ever heard of, but this is what their actual website looks like:   HOW THE FUCK DID I EVER LIVE WITHOUT A SPARKLY FANNY? Oh yes, I remember – fucking easily, because fannies are not designed to...

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Why sexual happiness is a right, not a privilege

*** Sex is fun, free, good for you and I am one of its biggest fans. Sex is, quite frankly, brilliant.  But it wasn’t always like this – I used to have a dull, almost non-existent sex life. I wrote about it in this blog post about the horrors of being an unwilling partner in a Not Getting Any relationship and to this day it is one of the most popular things I have ever written anywhere.  I was astonished – and saddened – by the messages I received in response to that piece. I heard from both men and women...

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REVIEW: Sheets of San Francisco Funsheet

Sex is not usually a tidy business. In fact my motto would generally be ‘if it isn’t messy, you’re not doing it right’. But ohhhhh the cleaning! Whatever -ahem- fluids  you spill around the place (fluids is a brilliant word, isn’t it? Say it with me – fluuuuiddsss), they’re guaranteed to spill onto something they shouldn’t. Pale carpets, the duvet, the end of the sofa where the stain will be visible to all who enter your house until the end of time (or the day you get sick of telling people you spilled coffee, and just buy a new bloody sofa)....

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The joy of being a complete wanker

This post was triggered by a conversation with a friend on Facebook yesterday in which she admitted that: “The first time I ever realised I’d masturbated, I didn’t know what it was and thought I was going to die. I remember tearing through the pages of an Usborne book, frantically crying. And then I read that I’d given myself an ‘orgasm’ and the sobs just got louder until I realised I was actually going to live. “ Because that is the kind of conversations I have with friends on social media. Anyway it got me to thinking – I...

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