Eroticon 2019 Virtual Meet And Great – Morgan Peschek

Image is of Morgan, a (probably) white nonbinary person with short blue/teal hair, big hazel eyes and several facial piercings, including a ring through their lip. They are wearing winged eyeliner, a neutral lipstick and some blue face gems under their left eye, and a Kingdom Hearts necklace in addition to their collar (which features a heart-shaped padlock).

Y’all are in for two treats today: my first ever Wednesday blog post and my first ever Virtual Meet And Greet, for Eroticon 2019! I cannot overstate how excited and anxious I am, so I’m very glad I have this opportunity to introduce myself to people and familiarise myself with some of y’all’s faces.


NAME (and Twitter if you have one)

My name is Morgan Peschek, but I answer to Morgan, Moggy, Mo, Momo, “oi, you with the blue hair” and Captain Morgan (as in the rum; I’ve never been a captain of anything and it’s not a D/s title I’m insisting that near-strangers address me by). My Twitter is 

@KinkyAutistic, and my vanilla one (for memes and complaining, mostly) is @Gr8NinjaMorgan.

Tell us 3 things you are most looking forward to at Eroticon 2019

  1. Learning! I have so much respect and admiration for my fellow sex writers and I can’t wait to hear their insights about marketing, monetization, representation and so much more.
  2. Being in a supportive, sex-positive environment. I come away from rope events and other kinky gatherings feeling intensely validated, affirmed and seen, and I’m expecting to feel very similar at Eroticon.
  3. Spending a whole weekend thinking about my blog and about sex writing more broadly. Being a student, and a mentally ill one at that, I spend a lot of time feeling torn in all directions, trying to give every one of my responsibilities the attention they deserve, and as a result I often find myself mashing out blog posts on the day they’re meant to go live and feeling crushingly guilty I’m not investing more time in SEO, pitching things and otherwise putting my best blogging foot forward. It’ll be nice to give myself permission to focus entirely on the world of sex writing for a weekend and to feel like a Real Sex Blogger™ for a change.

We are creating a playlist of songs for the Friday Night Meet and Greet. Nominate one song that you would like us to add to the play list and tell us why you picked that song.

I’ve been watching The Umbrella Academy lately and I’d nominate its whole soundtrack if I could, but since I have to choose: Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now”. It’s feel-good, sort of sexy, and most people know at least some of the words.

What is your favourite item or book you’ve purchased so far this year?

My limited edition Kingdom Hearts PlayStation 4 (and all the collectibles it came with, including Kingdom Hearts III), because I am a nerd. (It was also pretty helpful psychologically to spend a chunk of money on something “indulgent” that was exclusively for myself – giving myself the message that I’m worth £380 was a nice little boost to the ol’ self worth.)

You can have an unlimited supply of one thing for the rest of your life, what is it? Sushi? Scotch Tape?

Is it cheating if I say energy, or at least serotonin? I feel like I could do so much good in the world if I could just crawl out of bed a little more often…

If I have to pick something more concrete, probably the balls that screw onto my piercings. A little thing, but when I lose them (which is too often; I’m always fiddling with the bastards) I feel less like myself. I’ve gone to great pains (literally) to mark my face, and by extension, my body, as something I own and have control over, so not needing to shell out ~£3 every time one of my ball bearings falls into a gutter would be a huge help.

What is your favourite quote from a movie?

Questions like this one always cause me to entirely forget every movie I’ve ever watched, but after racking my brains for at least twenty minutes, I’ve settled on “You’re gonna rattle the stars, you are!” from Treasure Planet.

What is your word suggestion to next years Eroticon anthology?

Hunger.

Complete the sentence:
I feel…

Breathtakingly anxious and excited about next weekend.

BONUS: What are you packing for Eroticon?

I have decided to be cheeky and add in my own question, because 1. I feel that one big strength of blogging memes and prompts is the way you can adapt and build of them and 2. I love seeing other people’s packing lists and guides, and I’m anxious to see whether y’all think I’ve missed out something essential!

So without further ado, I’m bringing:

  • An A5 notebook
  • One of those clicky pens with different colours on, so I can colour code notes without bringing a whole damn pencil case
  • My knitting, to keep my anxious hands busy
  • Business cards (which aren’t crucial – I know some people have worried about not having any)
  • Three outfits: a comfy one for each day of workshops and a pretty one for the Saturday night social
  • Arguably too much makeup
  • Some unwanted corsets I plan to swap or donate via the Swap Shop
  • All the other things I never go on a trip without:
    • My meds
    • My phone & phone charger
    • Wallet, keys, ID and railcard
    • My beloved water bottle, which is a socially-acceptable sippy bottle-type thing
    • Earphones
  • My Daddy, who you might meet at the social events, but who will be spending the time I’m in workshops etc. looking for good Chinese food in London – recommendations are very welcome!

I can’t wait to meet some of y’all! If this goes really well and I end up the monarch of a profit-yielding blog empire, readers and pals in other countries might end up seeing me at some of their cons too… 😉

Formatting And Self-fornication: What Is A Wank Journal, Anyway?

Stock image of a white person's hand holding a blue ballpoint pen over a notebook. The rest of the person is out of frame and the table upon which the book sits is a neutral beige colour.

Content note: This post refers to sexual trauma & trauma responses to solo pleasure in the abstract, but does not contain details of consent violations or acute trauma responses.


A few weeks ago, I tweeted about the genesis of my Wank Journal. I did say that it would stay private for the time being, since it’s a tool to help me reconnect with my body and my sexuality in solo settings where my pleasure isn’t “for” anybody else. And I intend to keep its actual contents private (partially for the above reason, and partially because my handwriting is atrocious even when I’m not writing immediately post-wank) for now, but I thought I could explain exactly what a Wank Journal is (or might be) and how I use it (or how you could use it).

I bought my Wank Journal from a fancy stationary place. Its iridescent blue/pink cover gives me good autism (in other words, I find it a uniquely pleasant sensory input) and its lined pages make sure that my writing stays legible-ish so I can revisit it another day. It also has a section in the top right corner for the date (appearing like this: _ /_ / _ ), which means I don’t forget to date my entries and satisfies my autistic love of consistent formatting.

And regarding formatting: I put information into my Wank Journal under four subheadings, which I write out each time I make an entry, rather than pre-writing them and finding I’ve left myself too much space for some subheadings and not enough for others. After all, every wank is different, and I can’t predict how many lines I’ll need for my ‘Context’ section for every one of my next however-many wanks. If I were/you are recording my/your Wank Journal entries digitally, this is less of a consideration, but I’ve pre-filled aspects of journals before (like writing future dates at the top of every page of a diary) only to find that I’d over- or underestimated how much I’d write on any given day. Opting not to pre-fill pages in any way means that I can allow myself flexibility and spontaneity, so I could change my subheadings or the level of detail under a subheading on a whim.

The subheadings themselves are quite straightforward. The first is ‘Context’. This is where I note down any pertinent information about my day, my feelings and my surroundings. This can include where I’m at in my menstrual cycle, whether I’m at my own house or that of a partner, whether I’ve been under the weather… Really, anything goes here if I think it’s of relevance to the wank in question.

Subheading #2 is ‘Implement(s) Used’, and it’s exactly what it says on the tin. I write down the names of any toys I’ve used and denote whether or not I used lube. You could be as detailed as you like here: for example, you could write “hand”, “left hand” or “left index & middle fingers”, depending on what sort of sexy solo statistics you’re looking to garner. Since I just like reflecting on successful wanks and having a sense of how I might replicate them, I list toys by brand names or nicknames I’ve given them, and I don’t need much information about what I do with my hands unless it was especially mind-blowing.

The third heading I use is titled “What I Did” and involves, you guessed it, descriptions of what I did to get myself off. This is one of the things that helps prevent me from dissociating after wanking since it keeps me grounded in reality rather than allowing me to “check out” and forget I even have genitals. Again, the level of specificity you use really depends on what your objective is – if you want to connect with yourself and your sexy solo experiences, I’d just outline which body parts you touched and what made you climax/brought you the most enjoyment; if you’re looking to collect data on how you jack off to construct the perfect wanking experience for yourself, or just because you’re a nerd about sex stuff, you can get more nitty-gritty about it and write down all of the movements you used, which positions you masturbated in, and anything else that you deem noteworthy. Nobody’s grading you on this.

Fourth, we have the subheading “What I Thought About”. I don’t usually use porn or erotica when I’m getting myself off, but this is where that would slot if I ever I did, along with an outline of fantasies I had that were particularly hot and/or memorable. I use the term “fantasies” in the broadest sense here – I could have constructed an entire sexy universe in my mind, along with nuanced characters and a compelling story arc, or I could just write down “dick veins.” and call it a day. Generally, my input into this section leans more vague than specific, mirroring my sexy thoughts themselves, but again, you could dictate your every thought into your phone to transcribe at a later date, or take the “dick veins.” route according to your needs.

Lastly, we have the section titled “Aftermath”, which might not be of use to you if you’re using a Wank Journal to record wanks, rather than to explore your trauma responses and thoughts about said wanks. Here I write about any dissociative symptoms I’m experiencing, whether I have the shakes, any emotional reactions I’m having and anything else that seems to be a direct result of the wank itself. Sometimes this section is overwhelmingly positive and sometimes it’s not, and that’s fine. The important thing for me personally is gaining insight into my wanking and wanking-related trauma with the aim of making masturbation less difficult and more enjoyable. You might find an “Aftermath” section useful to gauge the relative intensity of your wanks, to explore your emotional reactions to certain kinky fantasies or porn, or to unpack negative associations you too might have with wanking in order to work through them.

However you use your Wank Journal, I recommend getting one with a water-resistant (or rather, let’s be real, a cum- and lube-resistant) finish to it – something plastic-y or at least waxy to keep your journal safe. (It was for this reason alone that I didn’t select the pink and fluffy journal that was also available and similarly formatted.) I also recommend having it near where you’re wanking, along with a pen, so that you can record your thoughts and feelings whilst they’re still fresh in your mind – you’d be surprised how quickly your recollection of a wank can fade! Of course, if you’re keeping a Wank Journal digitally, you needn’t worry about its material makeup nor its location – but I selected a real life paper journal specifically for its physicality. I find that the process of writing with pen on paper requires focus and prevents me from checking out of my body, keeping me mindful and present instead of dissociating with a vibrator still on my belly. If you’re thinking of using a Wank Journal to tackle sexual trauma, the physicality of it is 100% something to consider.

But at the end of the day, there’s no right or wrong way to keep a Wank Journal, just as there’s no right or wrong way to wank. Kate Sloan writes about sex spreadsheets and tracking sex-based data more broadly here, in a post I found fascinating – so I hoped y’all would find this insight into my sex-related data collection fascinating, too (even though I have no colour-coding to speak of). You do you, and as we head into 2019, I wish you all happy wanking.

My Cervical Erosion Adventure, Part 2: Vag Mechanic Boogaloo

Stock image of a labcoat, worn by a person whose head is not in frame, with the pocket lined with pens and a stethoscope slung around the person's neck. The background is out of focus and beige.

Content note: this post mentions blood, describes a minor medical procedure and discusses non-consent in a medical setting. If any of those are difficult for you, feel free to give this one a miss, and join me next week for a new Smut Saturdays post instead!

Also, please forgive me for the title; I couldn’t help myself. As you can see, this post is a continuation of one from last week, available right here, but hopefully it’ll make sense as a standalone piece too. (Except for, y’know, the title.)


After I explained to my doctor that I had recently learned that my post coital bleeding wasn’t “normal”, and my doctor explained to me that bits that were meant to be inside the neck of my cervix were, in fact, on the outside, I was referred to a treatment centre to have it looked at.

I am not a shy person, as evidenced by my Twitter full of nudes and the existence of this very blog. I am not averse to jumping onto a clinic bed and having a stranger examine my bits (though, like most vagina-owners, I am a tiny bit averse to the ol’ speculum. That thing is a bastard). Being autistic and anxious, I hate appointments in general (travelling to new locations? Introducing myself to new people? Wearing outdoors clothes?!), but I wasn’t any more upset about seeing the Vag Mechanic than I would be about going to the optician. I showed up to the treatment centre early and was beckoned into my appointment after about ten minutes of apprehensive knitting.

The nice Vag Mechanic lady sat me down and asked me a number of very predictable questions about my recent sexual partners, my periods and my oral contraception. Then she asked, “And do you experience any tearing upon penetration?”

I explained, somewhat sheepishly, that I did a bit, sometimes, but only when things were rushed. She had some stern words to say about foreplay and lubrication, but we agreed that since the bleeding I’d been experiencing didn’t always correlate with the hurried sex and tearing sensation, it was likely cervical ectopy, as my doctor had suggested. I was taken into the next room, shown a curtained-off corner where I could have some privacy, and instructed to strip from the waist down in my own time, whilst the Vag Mechanic went and got a nurse to observe.

Once I was on my back with my legs in stirrups and a nurse standing on the right-hand side of the bed, the Vag Mechanic started unpackaging a speculum whilst the nurse chatted with me, presumably with the intention of keeping me calm and somewhat distracted from the impending plastic jaws that were about to wrench me open. (If you have a vag and you haven’t experienced a speculum before, please be aware that I’m largely being dramatic, and am hypersensitive to a number of sensations because I’m autistic; speculums (or speculae?) are, at worst, distinctly uncomfortable for a few moments as they’re being inserted and a few moments as they’re being removed. Do not be deterred from attending important gynaecology appointments because I’m a gigantic baby.)

The bastard thing went in, and the Vag Mechanic pulled a light on an arm down between my knees so that she could have a proper look, which wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise, however, was the screen to my right, directly next to the nurse at my bedside, which displayed footage of what looked like…

“Is that my cervix?” I asked excitedly, pointing at it like you might point at a very cool zoo animal. The nurse informed me that it was. “And that’s live?” Yep, it was a closed circuit live feed of my very own cervix. Being the sex nerd that I am, I was ecstatic.

The Vag Mechanic slid a cotton swab into the opening of the speculum (and, by extension, the opening of the me) and used it to point out to me on the screen where some of the tissue was red and raw-looking. She prodded it gently and blood oozed out, confirming that it was indeed cervical ectopy.

I expected to have the speculum withdrawn, to be able to sit up, and to have a discussion about the benefits and drawbacks of cauterizing the tissue (the most likely treatment option, according to a quick Google search and literally zero medical professionals that I’d spoken to thus far).

I did not expect her to unsheath a glorified toothpick and begin explaining, as it drew nearer to my bits, that this was silver nitrate, and she was “just” going to “quickly” cauterize it. I hadn’t even had a chance to Tweet about the confirmation that it was what I’d suspected. I lay there, frozen, unable to object or ask questions. All my thoughts were replaced by terror.

And then, to make it worse, the nurse very deliberately moved in front of the screen.

Desperate to regain some control of the situation, I asked, “Have you moved in front of the screen because sometimes it smokes and that freaks people out?”

“Exactly that,” she said. When I tried to crane my neck past her, less spooked by my smoking cervix than by unknown things happening to my genitals in real time, she fucking leaned so that I still couldn’t see it. Before too long it was over, and the nurse and the Vag Mechanic were completely unaware that they’d put me into fight or flight mode.

The moments after that are hazy in my memory, presumably because I was having a minor trauma response. They gave me a piece of paper about looking after my newly-scarred cervix and I made some joke about the line that forbade me from horseback riding. I had to put a pad in my underwear (no internal menstrual hygiene products, so no beloved menstrual cup) to catch the blood that my disgruntled vagina was ejecting along with bits of silver nitrate-y crud. Nobody had told me about that beforehand, either, and some warning would have been nice: apart from the fact that I very rarely have pads in my bag nowadays, I find them intensely distressing on an autistic level on account of the rustling, the stickiness and the scent, so I would have benefited from mentally preparing myself for the bastard things.

And that’s the point, really: I would have benefited from mentally preparing myself for all of it. Mostly, you know, for the cautery.

I don’t want to be ungrateful for what was a minor but important medical intervention that I received completely for free, thanks to the amazing (if strained) NHS. And I totally understand the logic behind “getting it over and done with”, and I understand the nurse’s insistence on shielding me from watching the process happen. Most patients would want to think about their raw cervical tissue being chemically burned as little as humanly possible, I’m sure, and taking the speculum out just to give them an opportunity to worry about it would be cruel. But I’m not most patients: I’m autistic, for one, and benefit from a clear outline of “the plan” from the outset in order to feel safe and in control. Maybe more importantly than that, though, I’m a survivor of sexual trauma, and so I want to know and understand what people are doing to my genitals at all times.

Maybe it was a miscommunication – maybe the Vag Mechanic assumed that my doctor had laid it out more clearly to me, or maybe the nurse thought that the “Generalised anxiety” bit on my notes meant that I’d pass out at the sight of the cautery taking place… or maybe they just made some assumptions based on their previous patients or what they themselves might have wanted… but regardless of why they didn’t check what I wanted, they didn’t check what I wanted. They didn’t explain. They didn’t make my options clear to me. They probably had the very best of intentions, but they took away my agency at a vulnerable moment and that made me feel unsafe.

I don’t think any medical setting, but especially a sexual or reproductive health-oriented one, should ever make a person feel unsafe. Ever.

There is a happy ending to this story in that my recovery was fine, I no longer have the post coital bleeding and I only dread my next Vag Mechanic appointment a bit, but that doesn’t take away from the feelings of fear and helplessness and discomfort and the rest of it that I carried home with me as well as my leaflet. If you found this article because you think you might have cervical ectopy, I want to make it clear that you absolutely do not need to feel this way, and you have every right to tell the Vag Mechanic before you get into the stirrups whether you want the procedure explained to you before, during or after, as well as any other worries or needs you might have. If you found this piece because you’re a healthcare professional who deals with genitals, I urge you to check in with your patients about how much they’d like to be aware of and involved in procedures that you’re going to do – even minor ones like mine.

And if you found this article because you’re a regular reader of mine, I’m always grateful for your support and I’ll see y’all next week with some unapologetic smut.