I have a routine when it comes to wanking. 90% of the time I do it last thing at night, without dragging it out, because it’s a surefire way of getting a good night’s sleep. The remaining 10% of the time I do it first thing in the morning, because I’m awake, and, well, I’m only a bit late, so far.

My turn ons too don’t vary much. I keep a massive stack of erotica by the bed and I dip in and out of different stuff, depending on my mood. Often, I get stuck on a particular book, or even a particular scene in a book, for weeks at a time. I’ll read said scene over and over, book in one hand, vibrator in the other, until I’m pretty damn close.

And when I’m close, I inevitably drop the book. Often, at that point, I can reach orgasm without thinking about anything much at all – if my mind does wander, it’s usually to the faceless stranger that I lost my virginity too, and the way he bent me over in a carpark and fucked me like I was a complete slut.

Recently though, my mind has started wandering to the boy, which is fine mid-wank, but which always leaves me slightly uneasy afterwards. Not because the scenarios he conjures up aren’t hot: I’ve blogged about a few of them here, but obviously there are others too, like the first time we tried anal, the time he disproved my underwear theory, and even our first date.

I’ve read a fair few blog posts recently where girls have been lamenting the fact that guys are so good at avoiding / hiding emotion, while they themselves are such an open book. Maybe that’s why this post isn’t out there for the whole world to see: right now I’m feeling pretty vulnerable and I don’t want him to know that he’s in my bed even though he isn’t.