I just realised something.

When I started this blog two years ago, I noted five men that I fancied at the time.

Since then, I have met four out of five of those men. (Working in the entertainment industry does have some advantages, it's true).

And out of those four, I managed to flirt with three, have a beer with two, and give my phone number to one. (He never called me). (Fool).

So I guess there's only one more to do on my list now: Alan Davies, watch out.

I’m not sure when it was that I came to the conclusion that two men having sex together was sexually attractive to me, but I am certain of one thing: I know it turns me on – a lot.

Maybe the seed was planted many years ago, when my boyfriend T dropped it into the conversation one night:

Him (grabbing my hips, pulling me harder onto his cock): ‘Do you remember that guy at work I mentioned? The one who winked at me?’

Me (fondling his nipples): ‘Yeah - the cute one?’

Him (squeezing my arse): ‘Him. I think he flirted with me yesterday’

Me: ‘Oh, really? I bet you liked that, ‘eh?!’ I winked at him.

He looked at me for a moment as I rode his cock hard. ‘Yes, actually I did. It gave me a boner.’

For a moment, my brain flickered into gear and the reality of his statement hit me. I felt a tiny surge of jealousy, of insecurity, of anxiety. And then I became aware of another feeling; something much more overwhelming than the brief questioning in my head: the intense throbbing and wetness between my legs.

I carried on riding him and feeling his cock pulse inside me, I wondered how best I should approach this new information; whether I should coax out his feelings about it; or perhaps just tease him. ‘It turned you on, did it?’ I asked him, a slight smile on my face.

‘Yes’ he replied softly, ‘it did’. He pulled me even more deeply onto him and I was sure his cock felt harder inside me than it ever had before. Clearly he was enjoying the thought of another man. And, I was surprised to discover, so was I.

‘So’ I continued, ‘if he were here now, what would you do?’

He paused for a moment, looking unsure how to respond. I smiled at him and he visibly relaxed. ‘Well’ he said, cautiously, ‘I’d like to feel his cock against me’.

‘And then?’ I asked. ‘What would you do then?’

‘Then I’d like to stroke it’ he said, ‘maybe feel it in my mouth.’

‘Mmm’ I replied. ‘Feel it rub against your lips’.

He nodded and pumped his cock harder into me.

‘Would you like to suck it?’ I asked. ‘Run your tongue all over it?’

He nodded enthusiastically and we both ground our hips together until we climaxed simultaneously.

After we caught our breath, I tried talking some more about his desire to be with another man, but he kept changing the subject. It was only years later that he finally felt able to explore this side of his sexuality and by this time, our relationship was long over.

A few years later, I was offered a threesome with two guys that I met in a nightclub. Stupidly I told my friend K about it, thinking that she would be as excited as me by the offer.

‘Yuck!’ she exclaimed, ‘what happens if they touch each other?! That would be disgusting!’

Of course, being a twit and somewhat insecure at the time, I turned the guys down, and regretted it for years. (I still do).

But K’s response wasn’t out of the ordinary: ask any of my mates – even the ones I consider ‘liberated’; the progressive women, the open-minded men – and they’d all recoil if I suggested

1. that I would like to fuck two men, and
2. that it would turn me on if they touched each other too, and
3. that I would be happy just to watch the two men touch each other

But on the contrary, if I suggested

1. that I would like to have sex with a man and a woman
2. that it would turn me on if me and the other woman touch each other
3. that I would be happy if the guy just watched me and the other woman touch each other,

I know for definite, that my female friends would blush – and then say ‘I’ve always wanted to try that!’ and my male friends would say ‘Go for it! Can I watch?!’

Whilst I wouldn’t say no to a little girl-on-girl action in my life, you would find me eagerly shouting ‘yes, yes!’ to a little boy-on-boy. Forget lesbianism: what could be better than more than one cock? It’s twice the pleasure; double the fun.

But it seems that for a woman to admit that she likes homosexual sex – watching or participating - most people would assume that she’s talking about lesbian sex – in fact it’s almost expected: a liberated woman + healthy sex drive x open-minded sexuality = lesbian tendencies. And in straight porn, it’s all directed towards men of course, as the women smile coyly at the camera and beg the (off-screen) man to ‘cum and join us’.

Yawn.

Why is it considered acceptable for women to dabble with other women, but not men to dabble with other men in heterosexual society? Why should lesbianism be the only gender exploration in straight people’s beds? Why is it so taboo for a man to want to explore another man?

I’m not going to even begin to explore these issues: it’s misogynist heterosexist hypocrisy and unless I am plied with at least five whisky sours, I don’t think I should delve into this topic now – I’ll only get annoyed.

But aside from these issues affecting society at large, I am more concerned with how they affect me. Or in other words: will I ever find a bloke who shares the same interest in his being with another man?

I would love to meet a guy, who, in a relaxed manner says ‘sure, I’d try a bloke; I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to suck a cock’ and then fuck me hard as we talk about how we might fulfil this mutual desire.

But I’m not optimistic about finding such a guy. Whilst I am very open about sex and my sexuality, I can honestly say that having a desire for my partner to fuck another man is not something I bring up in conversation with men that I meet, with any regularity. I wish it was. But I think I would scare the majority of men off if I mentioned that

1. I think about cock all the time
2. I would love to have a threesome with two men
3. I want to settle down and have kids

Which are the three things that occupy my mind on a regular basis.

Aside from my being a sex fiend and needing a shag three times a day, but I think that can be dropped into the conversation a little bit more easily.

Especially if I’ve plied the guy with plenty of alcohol beforehand.

Because I write about sex, people often ask me: what makes a man a good lover?

Whilst I don’t profess to know the answer to this - if I did, I’d be rich surely, with one of those ‘how to be the perfect lover’ books - I have however, built up a vast knowledge in this subject.

Or in other words: I have fucked a lot of men.

Seriously. I have. The amount, is irrelevant. Let’s just assume many.

But what I will say is that being a good lover does not depend on the following factors:

• Cock size – I have had cocks as small as my thumb and almost as large as my forearm - and everything in between. Whilst the former was hard to feel and the latter hurt like hell, the rest fulfilled their job very nicely, thank you.
• Beauty – I have fucked men that my friends thought were as ugly as dogs, as well as men that modelled for a living. In bed there was no difference: a horny man is a horny man – his skills in bed aren’t connected to his handsomeness.
• Intelligence – I have shagged guys who were so boring that I couldn’t wait to leave (after fucking them) and ones that were so fascinating, our conversation continued whilst in the missionary position. Both types were fun to fuck, (but being boring doesn’t equate to a second shag).
• Social class/career – I’ve bedded men with differing fiscal status: from a street cleaner to a multi-millionaire ambassador’s son. Their wealth, or lack of, had no connection to their abilities in bed.
• Racial/religious background – I have had men of many nationalities, both here, and abroad. The only difference between them was their ability to say ‘I want to fuck you’ with an accent (or not).
• Personality – I have slept with bold, outgoing, dynamic men as well as quiet, shy, nervous men; naked, in bed, they were all alike.
  

So if these things are not factors in what makes a good lover, then what is?

I put it down to one thing – one indescribable thing: chemistry.

That’s it.

Just the buzz you get from someone when you’re with them. They may have some of the ‘qualities’ that you find attractive, they may have things in common with you and you enjoy their company, but without that fizz - that excitement you feel in their presence going on between you - the sex ain’t going nowhere.

You see, of the men I have slept with – that made my fire burn from the chemistry – not all, even many, of them were that skilled in the sack. But they still made my pants soaked and enabled me to climax – repeatedly – when I was with them.

Given the choice between the most skilled lover in the world and one that is clumsy with his hands, but who – when he whispers in my ear ‘god you’ve got me so turned on’ – makes me drip in anticipation of his touch, I know who I would pick – and it wouldn’t be Mr Loverlover: I’m of the opinion that every man can be taught (if necessary) how to please a woman well; but if there’s no chemistry there to begin with – forget it.

This might sound harsh – ‘ladies, get rid of him if he doesn’t make your pants wet before he touches you’ – but, fuck it, it’s true. Every good lover I have had was someone I had chemistry with; the ones I didn’t (and yes, there’ve been many of those too) – even with all the best technique in the world – didn’t make me come (as hard, as much, or even, at all).

So in conclusion, I think guys (and girls) should relax about whether they are skilled enough in bed and instead, try to just enjoy the sex they have.

Because at some point – when they encounter that magical chemistry with someone – the sex is going to be so dazzling, it will knock both their socks off.

Sometimes a girl just wants to be made love to.

It’s all very well my constantly gagging for a hard shag; faced with the right bloke, it’s not something I would turn down – I do so enjoy a rampant pummelling from a horny man.

But right now, I want to be fucked slowly.

I want to be with a guy that takes his time; someone who wants to discover and explore my body and who wants to caress every inch of me until my skin feels electric.

I want a man who will:

Slide his fingers through my hair as his lips touch mine
Softly stroke my arse, the curve of my back, the nape of my neck
Explore my belly, my hips, the inside of my thighs with soft, sweet kisses
Lightly touch my breasts, drawing circles around my nipples
See the excitement in my eyes as he lowers himself down my body
Hold my hands in his, as his mouth greets my burning desire
Pull me gently onto his face as his soft tongue pleasures me
Squeeze my hand as the first climax hits me and my body convulses
Push his hard cock against my thigh as he moves up my body
Kiss me deeply as he presses his body close to mine
Laugh, as I try to angle myself so his cock will slide into me
Smile as my frustration increases
Position himself so only the tip of his cock is inside me
Make me so desperate that I beg him to fuck me
Lie still and kiss me deeply

And when I cannot stand it any longer, when I am crying out in frustration and desperation, I want him to:

Slide into me as far as he can go
Refuse to move inside me
Make me more frustrated, as I lie there, filled, but unfulfilled
Wait until he and I can stand it no longer
Finally give me what I am begging for

And then I want him to fuck me:

Take me so slowly, the movement is almost imperceptible
Push me to the edge of orgasm, so I am on the verge of tears
Have me on the brink
Not let me come, until he is ready to come
On and on, slow, but steady
Make my heart race
Make me drip
Force my nails into his back

And when he gets near; when he finally feels his own surge approach, only then does he pummel me hard, fucking me with all his might, until our orgasms combine to send simultaneous electricity across both our bodies.

And when we'd stopped shaking and had caught our breath, then he would slide his fingers into mine, kiss me deeply, look into my eyes and smile.

It’s been a long time since I made love. I miss it.

There’s something I haven’t been able to do recently, because I am currently so bloody busy.

It’s not being fucked hard from behind and getting my arse spanked.

Nor is it my sucking a cock and rubbing it between my tits.

Nor even, is it having my legs around a guy’s shoulders as he pummels me over and over again.

Though I wouldn’t say no to any of the above, given a spare moment in my schedule, there is another gap - besides the one between my legs - that needs filling.

And that gap is food: I miss cooking.

I love to cook. It’s right up there for me, with shagging, as one of my favourite pastimes. Give me some fresh ingredients, and some heat and I’ll get cooking.

There’s something seductive about food for me; it’s all linked to sex I reckon. Eating good food is like having a miniature orgasm in your mouth. And I love the fact that food – like sex – involves all the senses.

It even involves similar preparation:

• Pick the best ingredients that catch your eye
• Have a quick feel, to make sure they are ripe
• Handle delicately
• Put them on a slow heat
• Add spice
• Inhale their aroma
• Lift gently to ensure no breakage
• Display with care to ensure best presentation
• Place delicately in mouth and savour the flavour
• Devour enthusiastically
  

Is it any wonder that when people enjoy food, they groan with orgasmic delight?

I remember cooking for my friend K and her boyfriend H a few months ago. I had done a full-on meal: asparagus tips with chilli and lime butter; roast organic leg of lamb with rosemary and garlic; roasted vegetables with thyme and sea-salt; white chocolate cheesecake with a raspberry centre.

To say we were all stuffed, was an understatement. We sat there, barely able to move, but nicely tipsy from all the Rioja wine.

Eventually H got up to go to the loo and K and I reminisced about our childhoods. We talked for ages and I suddenly realised that H was still absent. K was a bit drunk, so I went to see if he was ok.

Instead of being in the loo, he was – red-facedly – picking at the joint of meat leftover in the kitchen.

‘Oh god!’ he said, groaning, his hands and mouth full of flesh. ‘I’m so sorry; it’s just that… fuck… this is SO good’. He carried on chewing and grinned at me, sheepishly.

I laughed at him and handed him a carving knife and told him to help himself. As he attacked the meat some more and I walked back to K, I momentarily beamed with pride: I loved that he wanted more of my food.

It is with much regret that my stupid hours at work are currently preventing me cooking; I miss having my friends over to eat. But there is no possibility of a social life for me at the moment – let alone being able to entertain others by cooking up a big spread.

I really miss having someone eager to eat my food – and enjoying it – it is such a compliment; it’s right up there with being told I give the best blow jobs (it might be a lie, but every woman wants to hear it).

I just adore cooking for others; I get off on their pleasure – just as I do during sex. Making a guy groan with delight, by putting something in his mouth gives me satisfaction; it gets me off.

Show me a man that makes happy sex noises when he eats my food; and that then makes happy food noises when he eats my sex, and I'll be a happy woman.

Especially if - after rogering me good and proper - he then wanted to clean the dishes.