Reader, I rogered him

It occurs to me that only women have Guilty Pleasures. Men have Appetites (to the extent of that being a legal defence from time to time). Not only must we feel guilty, as a sex, about our pleasures but there is a clear hierarchy of guilt. We are encouraged to indulge our loveably weak natures when it comes to chocolate, shoes, shopping and so on. You can see how Chick Lit took off, can't you? Sex, qua sex, is not generally encouraged unless one has the ditzy ineptitude of a Bridget Jones, who is surely the prime example of how a woman might 'fall pregnant' (presumably she slipped and landed on his appendage). Women who read and write pornography (or to give it its Sunday name, erotica) are as a rule positioning themselves beyond the pale pastel paintbox of Chick Lit, entering an altogether darker arena. I do wonder, though, whether the chocolate and the shoes and the shopping would be quite so prevalent were we to allow women a genuine indulgence, even if only once a month. Shocking of me to suggest it, I'm sure, but there we are. Anyway, enough stirring at the murky waters with my dirty stick, have a little light porn to start the day. Nothing too scary, mind. It is Tuesday, however, and "erotica" has such a bad reputation. I prefer to call this porn. Just published (and paid for) by Big Pulp. A flash called Every Time's the First. Oh and it's gay porn. I'll get my coat, shall I?