I emailed a sex writer friend not long ago to ask what she thought of the newfangled hands-free clitoral stimulators. “Are they actually effective at making you cum while you’re getting fucked?” The answer was they are hit or miss and completely user dependent, which was the answer I didn’t want because I’m still looking for the effortless PIV orgasm. read more

I was 23. The first thing I was drawn to were his earlobes, don’t ask me why. They were the kind that didn’t attach at the bottom, you know? The kind that were begging to be sucked. He had a piercing in one of them, and the sight of it glinting there made me lick my lips. read more

In a recent fit of anxiety over whether I was doing enough to keep my finger on the pulse of contemporary sex, I signed up for Cosmopolitan’s weekly newsletter called The Thirst. It’s essentially a fluff piece platform to promote an array of sex toys and paraphernalia, but I keep opening it because I’m amused by its focus on sex positions which suggest it’s possible there is an infinite number of ways to pleasure each other with a finite number of appendages and digits. read more

A man rang me up by mistake, he got the number wrong. And  that thing happened that never really happens: we didn’t hang up. We could not. My body, which had been carted about by me with unloved indifference for years, became a poised centre of unexpressed longing for this unmet man. Not absolutely immediately, of course.  First he said sorry to bother you, I said no no don’t worry, there was a pause, he said you’ve got a very sexy voice you know, I said so have you actually, he said my name’s Mull, I said mine is Elizabeth. read more