Girl On The Net: My Not-So-Shameful Sex Secrets
I’m Girl on the Net.You might know me from my blog. This is some stuff I do with my life. Why did I write an erotic memoir? The most obvious answer is ‘because I’m a pervert’ – I like sex; I like talking about it, reading about it, doing it, watching other people do it, and hearing other people’s stories.This is my story. Don’t read it if you’re going to be offended by whips, submission or lots of sex. Who am I? Not telling. And if you think you know, please don’t spoil the secret…Praise for Girl on the Net"This book is like Twilight, if Twilight was about sex instead of Vampires and didn't hate women." - Martin Robbins, author of 'The Lay Scientist' at the Guardian"This is the thinking gentleman/woman's filth, and will equally delight and disgust you. It is a frank and honest, which are two of the best qualities for a memoir to be, in my opinion." - BookC**t
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Girl on the Net: My Not-So-Shameful Sex Secrets
I’m Girl on the Net. You might know me from my blog. This is some stuff I do with my life.
Why did I write an erotic memoir?
The most obvious answer is ‘because I’m a pervert’ – I like sex; I like talking about it, reading about it, doing it, watching other people do it, and hearing other people’s stories.
This is my story. Don’t read it if you’re going to be offended by whips, submission or lots of sex.
Who am I?
Not telling. And if you think you know, please don’t spoil the secret…
Can’t get enough? Join the thousands of readers on girlonthenet.com, facebook.com/girlonthenet or tweet me @girlonthenet
Girl on the Net: My Not-So-Shameful Sex Secrets
Girl on the Net
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2013
Copyright © Girl on the Net 2013
Girl on the Net asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © June 2013 ISBN: 9781472017055
Version date: 2018-07-23
Born in the south of England, Girl on the Net travelled around a bit studying Philosophy and amassing a spectacular collection of bad habits before settling down in London. She now lives in a small flat with a hoard of books and an impressive selection of dirty coffee cups, and aspires to be the sort of person who visits museums at the weekends.
During the week you might spot her at comedy nights or science talks, and on Friday nights she’ll likely be the first person in the pub, ringing everyone else to see where they’ve got to. If you happen to meet her in real life and think you know who she is, please don’t let on. Like most people, she’s far more fun on the internet.
‘For the one who’s atomic, the one who’s insignificant and above all the one who’s not in it.’
Contents
1. I didn’t listen to the lyrics of ‘Teenage Kicks’ because I was far too busy masturbating
If you’d asked thirteen-year-old me what I wanted to be when I grew up, hovering somewhere near the top of the list alongside ‘astronaut’ and ‘writer’ would have been ‘wanker’. When I was thirteen, I wanted to be a wanker.
I suspect the same could be said of many teenagers—that moment when you discover that touching yourself like that can make everything else in the world seem dull, shallow and unimportant, is a moment that many of us spend the rest of our lives trying to recreate.
Since then I’ve been chasing that feeling—that desperate, horny kick you get when something strikes you in just the right way. When a guy says ‘come here and bend over’, when he puts one arm tightly around my waist and uses the other to pull my knickers down, when he leans over and whispers in my ear, ‘I can see your nipples getting hard through that top.’ Every single time my cunt twitches and I feel that stinging lust in the pit of my stomach—they’re all descendants of that initial spark.
The first thing I ever wanked to was a book.
Not a book with any particularly saucy images on the cover, or, as a surprising number of my male friends have confessed, a hardback compilation of ‘arty’ Pirelli calendar shots. To my utter adult horror, my first teenage wank came about via a sadomasochistic novel that belonged to my dad.
Allow me to explain:
My parents were divorced. Not in an ‘oh God, why must they tear the family apart?’ way, but in a ‘well, that seems to have calmed them both down’ way. No doubt it was agony for eight-year-old me, but I’m sure she’d forgive twenty-eight-year-old me for being a bit blasé about it, given that both of my parents subsequently settled down with lovely partners, neither of whom hit me or made me sweep out cinders from the fireplace.
It’s well documented that post-divorce many children cash in, and benefit from having two of everything: two Christmases, two birthdays, two trips to the special cake shop to be congratulated on not fucking up your GCSEs. And it’s also well documented that this isn’t a great idea, and can leave your children well and truly spoiled. Luckily for me my parents read the documentation thoroughly and did their absolute best not to fawn over, bribe, or otherwise pander to any of their children. This means that my brother, sister and I have all grown up relatively balanced, if a little light on presents.
