Five things I’ve learned about desire

1. Retaining my desire for desire is what matters to me most.

As long as I can feel my desire for desire, I know I’ll be able to navigate the seas of change.

2. Staying curious and creative allows me to stay open to finding and enjoying new desires.

My desire is not a one-time, set thing. It changes, fluctuates, emerges, hides, even does a 180 at times. Staying open to all of these things – and not trying to cling on to only one, familiar way of relating to my desire – means I get to explore and grow and expand and, ultimately, keep choosing.

3. Arousal and genital feelings are only one part of a much bigger picture.

I can feel my desire as a lust for life, not just lust for another or sex or orgasm. When I channel my desire into my whole life, I realise just how potent and creative this aspect of me is.

4. Self-sufficiency matters.

Yes, being able to share my desire with others matters too, but the only person I can guarantee I’ll have in my life, is me. I am my own lover first, foremost, and always.

5. Pleasure and desire come in many different forms.

When I tune into my whole self and ask “what do you need, what do you want, what will light you up?” I hear my body yearning for a dip in the cold sea, I hear my craving for slow, sensuous touch, and I hear a whisper reminding me that my potential for pleasure is unlimited.

Of course there’s LOTS more to say about Desire! You can read more in my book ‘Desire Lines’.

Image by Chris Barbalis on Unsplash

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Growing desire into pleasure

Desire is longing, anticipation, yearning, having and not having.

When I write about desire I often feel it as an ache, an empty space waiting to be filled, a delicious potential.

Pleasure is in the moment, embodied, felt and received.

When I write about pleasure it is in my active voice, it is something I have, something experienced.

I’ve been curious of late about the differences between these two, and the relationship between them. Why I am drawn to write about one more than the other. Why it sometimes feels more comfortable to write about longing than it does fulfilment.

Perhaps it comes down, in part, to owning the fact that – ultimately – I am responsible for my own pleasure. It is something inside of me, not something out there. My pleasure is something to be created rather than found. Yes, I can choose to co-create with a willing and enthusiastic other, but I can’t expect them to bring me my pleasure (like the old TV advert where the man swings through the high-rise window to present his chocolate box offering “all because the lady loves Milk Tray”).

We’re not taught this though. We are taught that desire is a sign of something we are lacking and need to obtain. We’re not taught that desire is a signpost to our inner world.

Desire is the seeds that we plant in our inner landscape. We nurture them. We attend to them. We allow them to grow and, when we are ready, we can enjoy the fruits and flowers of pleasure that harvesting them offers us.

It feels radical to know that my pleasure is already within me, waiting to be harvested.

And what about when I choose to share that pleasure? When I choose to add my fruits and flowers into the garden of another Eden where someone else’s seeds have been nurtured and grown too? We can share our mutual harvests but we need to each bring something to the table: I can’t expect to feast solely on their offerings and neither can I allow them to feast solely on mine.

We co-create our mutual pleasure, grown from the seeds of our individual desires.

Pleasure is embodied. And that means I have to allow myself to feel it. To feel excitement, joy, delight, rapture, and love.

Those are big feelings. Bold feelings. Courageous feelings.

Pleasure is not passive. Pleasure needs to be received, allowed, accepted. Desires can remain dormant until they are given the attention and actions they need to grow, evolve, and – if we choose – be realised.

I’ve been taught how to brush the feelings of want and longing under the carpet, to shift my focus away from them and onto something ‘more  important’. But if I never nurture my desires, how can I allow myself to fully understand and enjoy pleasure?

And pleasure is important! It feeds into my vitality, my wellbeing, and my ability to make my contribution to the world. We all benefit from pleasure. We each remember who we truly are – touch our soul’s magnificence – through pleasure.

Walking my desire lines is my active pursuit of pleasure. But my desire lines are also about more than just pleasure. Walking my desire lines is my path to self-awareness and self-understanding, my path to self-expression. Ultimately, walking my desire lines is my path to embracing more than just the potential for pleasure; I walk to step into pleasure, bringing the whole of me on the journey – body, mind, and soul.

Read more about walking our desire lines (click) here.

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PleasurePractices #4: Garden of delights

These PleasurePractices are a record of my explorations with medibation — masturbation as meditation. Exploring self-touch and self-pleasure from new angles.

Not so much a ‘how-to’ but more a series of ‘what-ifs’. I share these openly along with an invitation for you to explore your own what-ifs:

What might you like to give to yourself, and to receive? What might you try that you’ve never tried before? What pleasure might you create? And what else might you discover?

One of my long-held fantasies centres on having a private, outdoor space where I can be naked and commune with the elements.

I want to stand in a rainstorm and feel the water drenching my hair and skin, running down my back, and wetting my lips. I want to press my torso against the rugged bark of a broad tree, my arms wrapped around it in an embrace. I want to feel my body as the part of nature it truly is, no clothes coming between us, just the air and the breeze to let me know where I stop and she starts.

My pleasure practice today was all about giving myself that gift.

It wasn’t the perfect and ideal vision I have been holding but it was what my body was calling for.

I walked into the garden barefoot and in a robe. The cool air caressed my skin as I undressed completely and just stood for a moment, feeling the ground – warmer than I expected – underneath my soles. I lay down and let the overgrown grass enfold me, feeling the Earth’s heartbeat gradually slowing my own.

When I’d had my fill, I went back indoors to continue this exploration of pleasure, lying on the carpet in a patch of sunlight, my body alive and awakened and ready for my touch.

My name is Anna Sansom and I’m endlessly curious about how we each explore and enjoy our unique sexual selves. I write about my own experiences and I write erotic fiction, all with the aim of giving us language and ideas so we can make our own journeys – walk our own desire lines – to our fullest, truest selves.

This blog is like looking in my open window.

You can come inside by signing up here.

I’ll put on the kettle and make us a cuppa to enjoy while we chat (and I’ll send you a free book for afterwards too).

PleasurePractices #3: Passion

These PleasurePractices are a record of my explorations with medibation — masturbation as meditation. Exploring self-touch and self-pleasure from new angles.

Not so much a ‘how-to’ but more a series of ‘what-ifs’. I share these openly along with an invitation for you to explore your own what-ifs:

What might you like to give to yourself, and to receive? What might you try that you’ve never tried before? What pleasure might you create? And what else might you discover?

Have you ever had a lover reach for you and touch you with such passion it takes your breath away? Do you know that feeling just before their hands make contact with your skin and you can almost feel your body leaping to meet their embrace, to close the gap between the two of you, so you can be fully connected with them?

It’s an incredible feeling. Lust and desire and passion all rolled into one.

Now, how would it feel to touch yourself in the same way?

That’s the question I had for my latest Pleasure Practice exploration:

How would it be to touch myself with passion and want?

Touching my whole body with hungering hands. Not just my genitals and breasts but my thighs, my stomach, my neck, my hair, my lips…

Melding my want with my attention. The surprised delight of a feather-light caress flowing over sensitive skin, anticipated desire for what I know will follow…  

Grabbing handfuls of me and delighting in the textures and sensations. My hands registering the fullness of my flesh; my body surrendering to the touch…

Moving and making sounds in response. Not for anyone else to see or hear, just for me and myself as lover

Stoking the fire and building the heat until I roar and come and am spent.

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PleasurePractices #2: Magical, powerful, intentional

These PleasurePractices are a record of my explorations with medibation — masturbation as meditation. Exploring self-touch and self-pleasure from new angles.

Not so much a ‘how-to’ but more a series of ‘what-ifs’. I share these openly along with an invitation for you to explore your own what-ifs:

What might you like to give to yourself, and to receive? What might you try that you’ve never tried before? What pleasure might you create? And what else might you discover?

I want to call in my magic.

I want to call in my power.

I offer myself to something greater – it is time to fully claim my soul’s magnificence.

I bind my breasts together to make them stand proud and to bring my nipples close enough that I can touch them both at the same time: the flat of my palm grazing them and sending instant requests to my cunt.

I massage lube over and inside me. Firm strokes. Awakening, enlivening strokes.

My palm brings my nipples to stiff attention. My fingers enter me, preparing the pathway for deep magic.

Now, it begins.

With fingers of one hand, I begin to circle my clit. My other hand moves to my face and an anointed finger matches the rhythm below as it draws circles on my brow, over my third eye chakra.

I am bringing my vision to life.

Calling in my power.

Stoking my desires with my sexual energy.

Potent. Powerful. Purposeful.

I am strong.

I am feeding my hunger so it can roar from a place of having rather than lacking.

I am my own power – my own pleasure.

I am magical and magnificent.

I welcome it all: the colours, the sounds, the sensations.

I take it all.

And – from that place – I create.

Do you want to explore more? Sue Sutherland of The Feel Institute is offering a 3-part, online course during March 2021, for people with a vulva: Self-touch, vulvae, and sex toys. (click the link for more info and to book)

I am assisting as part of Sue’s Crew and would love to see you there!

PleasurePractices #1: Slow, slow, sensuous, slow

These PleasurePractices are a record of my explorations with medibation — masturbation as meditation. Exploring self-touch and self-pleasure from new angles.

Not so much a ‘how-to’ but more a series of ‘what-ifs’. I share these openly along with an invitation for you to explore your own what-ifs:

What might you like to give to yourself, and to receive? What might you try that you’ve never tried before? What pleasure might you create? And what else might you discover?

Just me, some lube, a bed, and time. Touching myself gently and reverentially. Stroking, soothing, relaxing my body and my emotions. Creating safety, and landing into this sacred space. Away from all the external noise and demands. Just me, some lube, a bed, and time.

I let my slickened fingers stroke my vulva. Exploring the shapes and textures. Slowly. Sensuously. Unhurried.

Mmmm…how does it feel when I touch myself there? And like this?

Ah, yes. Oh, that feels good. Again, please.

No goal. Not in pursuit of anything at all. Just touching to experience pleasure in the moment.

My cunt is a sacred site. I am worshipping her with my touch and my attention.

Slowly. Sensuously.

Exploring how she wants to be touched. What she wants to receive. Building my pleasure, stroke by stroke. No tension. Just relaxed receiving.

I gift this to myself. This unhurried luxury of time, touch, and tenderness.

What happens if I keep it slow? Where usually I would want to speed up and tense up and get myself off – what happens if I do it differently?

What happens if I devote myself to this worship?

What happens if I don’t try to hurry it?

What happens if I just keep giving myself more and more moments of pleasure? And if I give myself full permission to receive it all.

The pleasure builds. I expand. My body moves and I utter sounds.

I am making love: deep, worshipful, reverential, self-honouring love.

Slow, slow, sensuous, slow.

I allow it to engulf me and carry me. All this pleasure.

A deep, heart-inclusive orgasm. I am awash with love and receive it fully.

“So beautiful,” I whisper, in awe.

Do you want to explore more? Sue Sutherland of The Feel Institute is offering a 3-part, online course during March 2021, for people with a vulva: Self-touch, vulvae, and sex toys. (click the link for more info and to book)

I am assisting as part of Sue’s Crew and would love to see you there!

The real influencers

“Influencer”. It’s such an odd term. I hear it used in the context of social media and it’s made me give some thought to who has influenced me over the years (including way before social media was ever a thing).

A quick scan of my bookshelf reveals the answer. There have been several key people who have definitely influenced my understanding, my beliefs, and my experiences of being a sexual person.

As a thank you to some of these people, I want to share their books with you today and encourage you to read any you feel drawn to. (They are all great companions to my book, Desire Lines!)

Sex for One by Betty Dodson

Known as the ‘grandmother of masturbation’, reading Betty’s book, Sex for One: the Joy of Self-Loving, taught me about women’s genitals, self-pleasuring, and having a love affair with myself – a phrase I come back to time and time again. Betty died, age 91, at the end of 2020 and I am sad that I never got to attend one of her Bodysex workshops. Her many decades of work live on through her writing, her videos, and the lives of all of those she influenced.

Post-Porn Modernist by Annie Sprinkle

Annie has been a sex worker, porn star, academic sexologist, and is now an environmental artist from an eco-sexual perspective. Through her book, Annie Sprinkle: Post-Porn Modernist, she gave me an important and early role model for how to be an empowered, sexual woman. I met her at a book signing and had a complete fangirl moment. Then I took part in one of her art events: getting into bed with her and her partner, Beth Stephens (swoon!). I’ve also had the pleasure of watching her and Barbara Carrellas demonstrate their energy orgasms at a joint workshop I attended.

Urban Tantra by Barbara Carrellas

The creator of Urban Tantra, and (amongst many other things) a sex/life coach, Barbara believes that “pleasure is good and ecstasy is necessary”. I completed her in-person Urban Tantra Professional Training Program, met her and an extraordinary group of remarkable human beings, and expanded my sacred sexuality. Prior to this, I was convinced Tantra was inaccessible to me as a queer woman. Barbara offered me a way in and a sense of community and inclusion. Her book is a great resource for those who can’t access her work in person, or who simply want to use it as an on-going resource.

The Ethical Slut, and Radical Ecstasy by Dossie Easton

Dossie Easton is “dedicated to feminist, polyamorous, BDSM, spiritual, gender-diverse, and LGBTQ individuals and communities… new paradigms of gender, sexuality, and relationships.” Her books genuinely changed my life, especially Radical Ecstasy, which showed me how to write with courage and deep authenticity, especially when the topic is one steeped in taboo. I was privileged to meet Dossie to interview her for a magazine article, and also to attend one of her workshops.

There are many more books on my shelf and many other extraordinary people who have had an impact on me and my work. I’m sure I’ll share more in the future but, in the meantime, there’s definitely enough here to get your teeth into!

Looking for an ethical way to buy your books? Buy from your local bookstore by visiting

All Your Secrets

CONTENT NOTE: this post contains erotic and explicit writing

Erotic short story…

All those drunken confessions have led to this night. Each time we sat together, bottle of wine on the table, feet on the sofa, Adele or Emeli or Lana on the stereo, you loosening up and me listening. As the evenings wore on you inevitably confided a new secret and I stored it away with the rest. I know you better than you know yourself. I know your deepest desires, I know what turns you on, and I know exactly what you are yearning for.

Of course most of the time you wanted to talk about him. “He’s amazing in bed,” you told me as you stretched your foot out onto my lap. I massaged your toes and pictured the scene you described in such candid detail. You riding him like a cowgirl, his cock the perfect girth to make you feel so full and tight that you gushed for the first time. “He loved it.” I saw the misty look in your eyes as your cunt remembered and I squeezed your foot a little firmer in acknowledgment.

Some nights I thought you were all out of confessions but then the wine would kick in, you’d give me that naughty-girl look, and another one would leave your lips. You knew you had a willing and expectant audience; I knew you needed to be heard.

We’d almost drained the bottle of red the night you told me the biggest secret. If you hadn’t told me we could have carried on like this forever but, once I knew, the first domino in the chain was given a gentle nudge and the outcome was inevitable.

It had taken just one little word from him to burst your loved-up bubble. “Married. The bastard is already married!” I wrapped you up in my arms and let your angry, hot tears soak the front of my sweater. You nuzzled into my chest like a small child seeking comfort and I stroked your hair. I made sure you were safely tucked up before I left you for the night. I think you were asleep before I’d closed the front door.

You see, I wanted to give you that space. You needed to feel the lack in order to feel the want. Tonight I think you’re ready.

You look different this evening. There’s a weariness that makes your features look less distinct, like someone has blurred your edges with an eraser. You look softer and older. I like it. I hand you the wine and you lead me straight into the lounge. So far we are performing the same moves we have done a hundred times: you pour the wine, I choose the music, then we kick off our shoes and settle into the cushions.  I pat my lap and you smile as you place your feet there. I put down my wine glass and rub my thumbs across your tight arches. You wriggle your toes in appreciation.

I’ve always loved your feet. It’s funny because most people say “hands” or “eyes” when they’re asked what first attracted them to someone. If they were being honest they might say “it was her breasts” or “the bulge in his pants”. Few people would admit to being drawn to a stranger’s feet but that’s what I first noticed about you: you were barefoot and dancing. Your dance moves were pretty alluring too, but not as irresistible as your feet. I know you don’t see it yourself but, trust me, you have delectable feet.

It’s a good thing that you like having them massaged at the end of the day and we are perfectly matched in my delight at being the one to do it for you. When I thought this was the only physical contact we’d ever have I decided I could make it enough for me. Along with the friendly hugs and kisses hello and goodbye. Yes, I could live with that.

You kept telling me your secrets though. Did you realise what you were doing? You wanted me to share in your sexual thrills, wanted to draw me in, to make sure I felt it as well. You went into far more depth and detail than a simple retelling of a story would. Did you notice the misty look in my eyes too? The way I repositioned your feet in my lap: just a little higher up, just to make us both a little more comfortable.

Initially I wondered if you were testing out my willingness for a threesome. You knew I only like girls and I knew you and he were always up for trying something adventurous. You had plenty of opportunities to invite me and, when you didn’t, I began to wonder what other motive you might have for your newest admission of watching girl-on-girl porn. It didn’t take long for the other domino pieces to begin to stack up: were you deliberately laying a trail for me or was it your subconscious leading me on?

My fingers knead into the ball of your foot. I know your sweet spots and I work them with the pads of my thumbs and then my knuckles. Your unattended foot waits impatiently and you shift it to rest nearer my crotch.

Your weariness has lifted and you look young and excited again. You have drunk your wine quickly but I’m not going to refill your glass tonight; I have something else to offer to quench your thirst. Because that’s how you described your sexual appetite to me, remember? You talked about hunger and thirst and need and desire, and that urge that just won’t go away until it’s satisfied completely. I listened. I noted. And here I am.

Your feet are warm and heavy in my lap and your legs are stretched out along the sofa. You look relaxed and content. This could be the same as any other time we’ve spent together but tonight it’s my turn to share a secret.

I work my hands over the top of your feet and up to your ankles. You hold tension there too and I smooth it away, allowing my hands to slide a little bit higher on each stroke. Then I dip around to reach your calves. Another sweep of my hands leads me all the way to the backs of your knees. I’m leaning over your legs and your toes are pressing into my torso. You are so close to my nipples I can feel them hardening in anticipation. All it would take would be a few little wiggles of your toes and there would be no turning back.

I massage the tender area behind your knees. You have your eyes closed and you are smiling. He used to kiss you there and make you tremble. Now it is my fingers that are triggering delicate little shivers and twitches along your thighs. I know where your other erogenous zones are too.

You wiggle your toes and I feel it like an electrical charge connecting my breasts and cunt. You gasp in surprise as my mouth envelopes your big toe. You begin to giggle but then the sensations reach your cunt and you fall silent. My mouth is warm and wet, sucking and licking your toe, coating it with hot saliva. We are looking at each other: you must be able to see the need in my eyes and I see something shift in yours. This isn’t your naughty-girl expression; this is one of exposed lust. Your hunger is blatant.

I move my attention to the rest of your foot: kissing you slowly, holding you firmly. A wiggle from your toes again and then your voice: a quiet, “Suck me.” I take your other big toe into my mouth. You are prepared this time but your intake of breath tells me you still find the sensation unexpected. It is sensual and strange: do you feel like you’re getting a blow job? You wouldn’t be the first woman to discover she has an etheric dick on the end of her foot.

You are being very patient with me: I know how cunt-centric you usually are. I want to savour your whole body, to taste you, cover myself with the scent of you. You’re wet, aren’t you? As wet as my mouth; as wet as my cunt.

I release your foot long enough for us both to undress then you lie, face down, on the sofa. The soles of your feet are inviting me and I kiss each lightly. Your delicious calves are next: gentle kisses decorating you until I reach the backs of your knees. I puff a small breath onto your soft skin and you moan. My lips follow, and then my tongue, leaving a sheen on your skin: a blend of my saliva and your sweat. You are feeling flushed and I can see moisture in the dip of your lower back and across your shoulders.

I trail my breasts over the backs of your legs and watch your buttocks clench in response. One breast dips between your thighs, the sudden weight and presence makes you moan louder. I’ve reached your cunt.

My tongue trails a new path, this time on a downward trajectory. I start at the base of your spine and slide down to the top of your butt cheeks. You shift slightly onto your knees and spread your thighs a little to give me a clearer route. You throw me into a quandary: I know you want me to lick your cunt but your asshole looks so inviting. I pause. You bring yourself further onto your knees and look at me from over your shoulder. You want it all, don’t you? You want to lose yourself in all the sensations your body has to offer. I wish I had eight arms, a cock and a cunt. I wish I could wrap you up completely; fill you up completely. You deserve to be engulfed by passion. I know all your secrets; I know that’s what you want.

You offer your ass to me again and I take it. I worship you with my kisses before stroking my tongue over your sensitive pucker. I wrap one arm under your waist to better hold you to my lips and you push back onto me. You reach back and grab my free hand before bringing it into full contact with your cunt. “Fuck me,” you growl and push my hand hard up against you. If you could force my whole hand inside you, you would. Instead I quickly fill you with my fingers, leaving my thumb free to circle your clit.

You are already losing the sense of your individual body parts and are tuned in to the connections between your ass, your cunt, your feet, and your nipples as they graze the fabric of the sofa. Any sensation triggers a series of electric shocks over your skin and there is a deep pulsing at your very core.

I alternately flick my tongue over your asshole and huff warm air onto it. I match the rhythm to the movement of my fingers inside you and we rock together. I keep a slow and steady motion even though I know you want me to pick up speed. You always want to come too soon. But I want you to be totally ready, to dance barefoot on the edge of the precipice until you grow wings and fly from the edge. I want you to sweep and soar, catch an up-draught and fly again, until you have no choice left but to land and rest.

You want to come. You have pushed my fingers deeper inside you until the pressure in your cunt is exquisitely painful. You are panting and pleading: “Please, please…” But I’m still not ready to let you go. I want more of you before you fly from me.

Your asshole is soaked with my saliva and our sweat. I let go of your waist and raise my face from you. I watch you for a moment as you grind against my hand in your cunt. The fingers of my free hand dip inside my own juices and I feel my clit rock hard and erect. I’m saving that for you. My wet fingers return to your asshole. One finger pushes swiftly inside you and you cry out. Now we can dance.

I let you set the pace. You can’t move quickly enough: you want to dance so fast that you make time go backwards. You want to come but you don’t want this to end. You go to the edge and leap.

Would you like to write your own fantasy? Find out how HERE

Making love last a lifetime

In my writing ‘play’ shop (Writing as Your Sexual self – you can access it here) I shared a prompt: “write a love-lust letter, either to yourself, or someone else.” Here’s what I wrote in response to that prompt.

You can watch and listen to me read it, or read the full letter underneath the video.

I want to feel you stroke my face. I want the pads of your fingers to disturb the fine hairs on my cheeks and jaw. I want you to trace the outline of my bones beneath my flesh. I want you to pause at my lips: a silent question asking if you can touch me there.

I’ll give the slightest of nods, turning my head just a little to place my lips underneath your touch. Yes, I want you.

I want slow, gentle, reverential. I want the absolute intimacy of sensitive fingertips caressing equally sensitive lips.

I’ll close my eyes and there will be nothing more to this world than you and me. Us. This. Now.

I want your palm to cup my jaw, my head to rest upon your hand. Just hold me like this. And let me know I am safe.

Then, when the moment is right, bring your lips to mine and let me explore you with my tongue. Tasting you. Drinking in the essence of you. Swallowing your saliva and inhaling your breath.

Slowly, slowly, my love. We have all the time in the world: we are the world.

After the kiss, our bodies will be singing harmonies to each other. Each resonating the notes of our unique, vibrating, needs. I’ll sing yours back to you: I hear you; I hear your hungers.

My touch on your skin – starting with your hands – will be almost too much. Just that – just my hand on yours, my thumb rubbing over and around your knuckles. Now I feel for the hard outline of your bones, and the soft spaces in between.

You’ll offer your body to me. Naked. And I will touch you with all of my senses. My nostrils filling with the scent of you. My eyes wide, in awe of your beauty. Hesitant only because I have to choose where to explore first – and I want to know the whole of you.

The shapes and textures that form the body of you. The sounds you share when my touch surprises you, or answers an unspoken plea. The way your body moves into my touch as though drawn by magnets or, at least, the magnetism of corresponding desire.

There will come a moment when my fingers are called to go deeper. When I will have explored all of your outside and now I want to go in.

I’ll be gentle; you’ll be ready. Eager.

How will we manage the urgency? Which of us will show restraint and slow the other down? Slowly, slowly, my love, I don’t want to miss a moment.

I’m going to be here when you come. When you let go. When everything is released and you tremble and twitch in slow motion – because we have slowed down time.

We will have all the time in the world.

We can go back to the start and begin over and over again.


Making love last a lifetime.

Playtime! Would you like to write as your erotic self?

I had such fun with this! As the grand finale of the #UnboundBookClub event for Desire Lines, I delivered a one-hour playshop on writing as your sexual self.

Join me as I share:

  • How and why I started writing erotica.
  • My 3 top tips for writing as your sexual self.
  • 3 writing prompts and writing time during the session to play with your erotic imagination and start writing.

Feedback after the event:

“Fantastic! I had no idea whether I could write erotically – turns out I can – wonderful!!!”

“This was amazing Anna! It’s re-awakened something in me. Very grateful.”