Category Archives: Filthy ones
Doxy Die Cast: “Easily the best orgasms she’s had in her life”
I’m not saying that if you offer me enough kinky guest blogs, eventually I’ll pull favours to get you a sex toy you really want so that you can go to town on it and write a review but… that’s exactly what happened here. And if anyone deserves the chance to go to town on a limited edition, hot pink Doxy Die Cast then it’s Jenby. One of the most prolific, funny, kinky guest bloggers I’ve had the pleasure of working with. I’m so chuffed that the toy she picked is from one of my favourite sponsor companies: Doxy. Even more delighted that it coincided with them launching a brand new, limited edition Doxy Die Cast. To celebrate ten years (TEN YEARS!) of this kickass sex toy brand, they’re launching an initiative to support breast cancer awareness in the UK, and donating a portion of the profits from every special wand that is sold. These incredibly beautiful Doxy wands are sold in gorgeous, fuckproud hot pink to immediately draw the eye of anyone lucky enough to be invited into your bedroom. Given Jenby’s penchant for bimbofication, it just felt like fate…
Gentle breath play: Breathe into my mouth
Sometimes, after we’ve fucked and I’ve come good and hard round his cock, he pulls out and lies back on the bed, holding me tight around the shoulder or waist with one arm, and stroking himself with the other. I like to watch him come. And while he’s pushing himself to come, if I can tear my eyes away from the sight of his beautiful hand gripped skilfully round the head of his fuck-wet dick, I put my lips right up against his. Almost – but not quite – kissing. Feeling his body tense and shake, inhaling as he breathes into my mouth.
Goals: A sex challenge on the DLR
OK, yeah, this one’s weird: ages ago I wrote a story about Katie, who was given a sex challenge by her partner, Sam, that involved nipple clamps and photographs and the DLR (the Docklands Light Railway – a London train line that winds through Canary Wharf, the Docklands and more). It was originally written as part of an improv erotica challenge for Patreons (where they give me a bunch of prompts and I have to write a sex story that includes them – this story had the prompts ‘Katie; praise kink; airport; allotment; the DLR; nipple clamps). Seeing as I’ve recently published a couple of other sex stories set on trains (gang banged on the Central Line, and surreptitious fucking on the Victoria Line), I thought I’d throw this one into the ‘tube line erotica‘ series too – you know, the series that absolutely no one asked for but that delights my nerdy, pervy little heart anyway. It’s quite a cute one, I think.
Surreptitious fucking on the Victoria Line
Continuing the series of erotic fiction set on tube trains (I heart TfL), here’s some aching, surreptitious fucking on the Victoria Line. Note that this story is fiction. Don’t do it in real life.
The carriage is already rammed by the time we get on – him, me, a few friends. All of us slightly tipsy from the gig, but eager to continue the night back home in Walthamstow. Home, where the booze has been pre-bought from Tesco and we don’t have to queue behind Gen Z amateurs at the bar. The train is packed by the time we get on but we squeeze down to the end of the carriage anyway. When someone gets up to push past us, in deference to his ever-present backache I offer my boyfriend the seat. Then, because my feet are hurting and I’m a little bit pissed, I sit on his lap.
A thousand words about a picture
We’re both quite sweaty, that’s the first thing. This picture is all the hotter because of that. There’s a light sheen on the side of his face, but I – as ever – am the sweatiest. Hair in wet curls plastered to my neck and forehead, the white shirt I’m wearing absolutely drenched to near transparency. The photo was taken at a fun, bouncy gig. We’d been dancing.