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Rowan Raunchbitch's torrid sex tips for red-hot lovers

It's business as usual this month down at The Erotic Digest: three writs from Tory MP Toby Rubpubbly and a persistant but mild STD outbreak. Thank God for lawyers and antibiotics.

Rubpubbly has once again been active in his ongoing campaign to see our doors shut for good. He has, he believes, found good cause following the furore provoked by our Sapphic editor's public protest against the sexual strictures of the Catholic church.

To recap, the said campaigner, Dierdre Bellbottom, led a small group of naked and horse-mounted protestors through the streets of London while simultaneously pleasuring herself with a small statuette of Pope Pious X. Suffice to say, she received a substantial fine and a nasty swelling around the cervix provoked by the lead paint on the plaster pontiff.

Rubpubbly added another arrow to his legal bow after reading our popular feature Full Metal Fellatio — a frank investigation into the merits of the tongue-stud-assisted blow job.

Although I initially expressed misgivings about the piece, I was eventually persuaded to publish after enthusiastic lobbying by office girl Gemma. Young Gemma has a substantial collection of such metalwork, including a miniature football signed by the 2002 FA cup-winning Arsenal side. This, she informs me, is for "special occasions", such as her partner's birthday, or when he has successfully put up that shelf in the bathroom she was asking for.

"The last time I used it he came so hard I didn't have to eat for a week!" she enthuses, insisting that I accompany her immediately to Dave the Piercer's. Indeed, it seems that I am the only female in the office not to have already surrendered my tongue to Mr Piercer's tender cares.

And with good reason. What young Gemma has failed to appreciate is that the human mouth contains no less that 371 different strains of bacteria — many of them potentially lethal. So, while I would admit that tickling a man's glans with a bas-relief golden representation of David Beckham's match-winning free kick against Greece might have him DIYing for a month, I feel obliged to issue the following warning: unprotected oral contact can kill.

As for my own partner, he is perfectly happy to leave the house of a morning with a mere peck on the cheek performed through a large square of antiseptic gauze. I myself never use my own tongue, except where it is unavoidable, such as in the delivery of alveolar fricatives during everyday speech. For the rest of the time it remains firmly rolled up at the back of my throat, and frequently swilled with strong mouthwash.

As a final warning, look no further than the French, who originally developed the concept of kissing with tongues. I rest my case.

Rowan Raunchbitch is Editor of The Erotic Digest

Next month: Water sports

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