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

I must say I do feel somewhat for steamy Spanish temptress Rebecca Loos following last week's pig-fondling kerfuffle. The poor girl has only just recovered from the lambasting she received the hands of the UK tabloids after the Goldenballs scandal, and she now finds herself once again on the sharp end of media opprobrium after the televised cumfest resulting from the stick beating that one hapless porker received at the hands of Ms Loos herself.

For the benefit of those not au fait with Channel 5's The Farm, the facts can be summarised as follows: Ms Loos was obliged to manually manipulate a pig's penis until it ejaculated into a plastic container (an impressive yeild, it must be said, although office girl Gemma assures me that the average horse can "fill two buckets no problem"). The premise behind this TV first was that it is common practice out in the elephant grass to masturbate pigs and other farmyard animals, and therefore any reality TV contestant worth her salt should be expected to get her hands dirty — even if this means wrapping her immaculately manicured fingers around porcine throbbing gristle.

Naturally, the whole country is up in arms about this bestial orgy. Tory MP Toby Rubpubbly was quick to fight his way in front of the nearest camera to declare outrage on behalf of all decent, right-thinking inhabitants of Middle England. The pugnacious Rubpubbly demanded the immediate axing of The Farm, the withdrawal of C5's broadcasting licence, lengthy prison sentences for all those involved and a blanket ban on pigs of any description "to protect young girls from the temptations of the flesh", as he put it.

We at The Erotic Digest do feel that Rubpubbly has rather overreacted in this case. After all, C5 ratings have not fallen so low that rauchy Rebecca was ordered to fellate an Alpaca or to be pinned to the ground by her fellow contestants while her pert box was ravaged by a hideously engorged thoroughbred stallion's member. Indeed, as Gemma put it over coffee and Hob-Nobs: "Pigs have got to get their rocks off too, you know. Even Babe needs a bit of executive relief now and again."

I must say that Gemma's choice of phrase intrigued me. She explained that she and her latest squeeze — a high-powered City trader specialising in jojoba futures — often indulged in "executive relief" when time was short or Tarquin was on the phone to the South Moluccas' Jojoba Growers' Collective. "A quick hand job always does the trick," enthused Gemma, entertaining the onlooking printers' apprentices with a very competent mime. "Sometimes you just can't be arsed to get you kit off and man juice always gives me indigestion if I give a bj straight after eating.

I was interested to know how Gemma dealt with the resultant ejaculate. "I always do him from behind," she illustrated. "The way you don't get come in your face and you can wipe it off the floor with a bit of bog roll."

Readers can imagine my horror at this admission. Once a year, it is my happy duty to excite my partner's member while he lays gently moaning on the kitchen table. I can think of no better birthday treat, although our first experiment in "executive relief" ended in disaster when his explosion of magic water took large swathes of French polish off the table and required the later intervention of a very suspicious French polisher ("Limescale-busting bathroom mousse, you say? Hmmmm...")

Accordingly, the ritual has become ever more elaborate, requiring as it does the deployment of dust sheets on the kitchen floor, a PVC cover for the table itself, two condoms on the swollen penis, rubber gloves for myself and the use of salad tongs to perform the actual operation. After he has performed satisfactorily, my partner then proceeds forthwith to the garden where I hose him down rigorously for at least twenty minutes with cold water.

Desite this cautionary tale, Gemma insisted that Tarquin's outpourings represented no threat to her Scandinavian beech-block flooring. "It must be spunk-proof — it's Swedish," she protested. I remained unconvinced, and as we speak Thor Hungstallion is in the copier room masturbating furiously over samples of a selection of natural and man-made floor coverings. Until the final results are in, I can only say that while linoleum has performed well, it will take the attentions of a team of highly-skilled steam cleaners to restore the Persian rug to its former glory.

Rowan Raunchbitch is editor of The Erotic Digest

Read Rowan Raunchbitch on:

• The joys of text
• The second coming of Rockall
• Fisting
• The pearl necklace
• The dirty weekend
• Shaving
• Frottage
• Bondage
• Water sports
• Tongues
• Lesbian
• Anal
• Threesomes