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

They say that we live in sexually-liberated times, that we've never had it so good, or so often. I wish it were so.

A disastrous month here at The Erotic Digest began with the pulping of an entire issue after Tory MP Toby Rubpubbly successfully gained an injunction against our publishing an entertaining article on Golden Jubilee commemorative butt-plugs.

Despite our lawyer's assertions that many of the items had Franklin Mint heirloom approval, the judge ruled that Thor Hungstallion's humourous headline Shove Prince Philip up your arse this Jubilee! was "not in the required spirit of celebration".

Sapphic editor Dierdre Bellbottom's subsequent demonstration outside the High Court hardly helped matters. For those of you who missed the televised event, suffice it to say that her naked menstrual "dirty protest" on the front steps did little to generate sympathy for our cause across Middle England.

Since we are still trying to get Dierdre released from Holloway pending her trial, I can only say that a full-blown row with office girl Gemma was most definitely not the ticket.

Now, Gemma is prone to bouts of over-excitement. I can, however, only speculate as to what exactly provoked her to suggest that our July issue would be much improved by a sixteen-page pull-out Summer supplement entitled "Water Sports: Golden sand, Golden sun, Golden shower".

Please don't misunderstand me — no woman alive enjoys water more then myself. Indeed, I usually shower seven or eight times a day, more at weekends. And while I can fully appreciate the sexual thrill that mounting a jet-ski might give as the throbbing beast between one's legs provokes a shattering, water-borne climax, I cannot fathom as to how we might extend the sexual possibilites to a full sixteen pages.

As I expressed my doubts to Gemma, she became increasingly agitated. I had, she insisted, completely missed the point. The debate became increasingly acrimonious until, incredibly, a furious Gemma pulled down her knickers and proceeded to urinate into an expensive Jasper Conran vase while one of the printers' apprentices lay between her splayed legs greedily licking his lips.

I hardly need add that Gemma has been sent home pending psychiatric evaluation. And while I am prepared to admit a certain sympathy with some peoples' love of the outdoor life, I must insist upon the following: Water sports are deadly.

Yes, I'm certain that being taken doggy style through a crotchless wet suit at 30mph off the Greek islands is a lovely way to consumate a holiday romance, but that's hardly much consolation to poor old Kirsty Macoll, is it? You have been warned.

Rowan Raunchbitch is Editor of The Erotic Digest

Next month: Bondage

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