I don’t do kinky blog posts, on the whole. Every so often, someone asks ‘Why ‘of sorts?’ Because you write about other stuff as well as sex?’

Partly. But also partly because I never thought I’d be able to pass this off as a real sex blog when it’s so vanilla compared to a lot of the  blogs I read.

Sometimes I think Fifty Shades of Grey has a lot to answer for. Would I have described myself as submissive before I read it? Probably not. Looking back, I can see now that the majority of the erotica I returned to time and again featured submissive women, but it had honestly never occurred to me that I would define myself that way in real life – that was just what I happened to wank to.

So much of what’s encompassed in BDSM doesn’t turn me on. Shoddily done bondage with my tights or your tie? Yes please. Exquisite Japanese rope bondage? No thanks. A few sharp slaps on the arse with your palm or my hairbrush before or during sex? Sure. Spanking for the sake of spanking? Nope. Anything more hardcore than that is likely to be off limits, too. I’ve read Sade. He didn’t earn a place on my bedside table.

Back in April, Girlonthenet encouraged people to tweet their oddest early turn ons under the hashtag #WeirdestWanks. I vaguely remembered lying in bed in the spare room at my grandma’s and being fascinated by the potential of the land of spanking at the top of the Faraway Tree (they’ve changed it to ‘shouting’ now. Boo hiss.) but that was about it. And then I saw this tweet.

Gunge/slime/gloopy stuff was a mainstay of a lot of kids TV in the 80s and 90s. Funhouse often had it, Get your own back obviously did, and so too did Timmy Mallett’s Wacaday. And I was fascinated by the stuff.

In her reply to that tweet, GOTN asked if the guy in question is into splosh now (yes, I had to look that up). For me personally, though, I think the hotness potential of slime is less to do with the substance itself, and much more to do with the shame/humiliation dynamic that it represents.

I live in total fear of humiliating myself in public. I hate walking to the front of the room in meetings in case I trip over, I blush bright red if I have to present. And yet there’s something about the idea of being humiliated in front of an audience that makes me very, very horny.

These days, of course, I wouldn’t be seeking that humiliation in the form of being asked a number of general knowledge questions while suspended over a vat of gunk. And being vanilla, I won’t be letting anyone piss on me either, no matter how hot Kristina Lloyd makes it sound. But come on my face? That’s a whole different story.