I don’t get to publish enough on this blog about breeding – until relatively recently, it wasn’t a kink that I shared. But as time goes on I collect more kinks (like Pokémon, one day I hope to catch ’em all) and the more I read about breeding the more I find myself drawn in. There’s something quite primal about pregnancy. I think so, at any rate. As does this week’s guest blogger, who is here with a fabulous explanation of why – despite being resolutely childfree – his vasectomy still gave him some feelings around abandoning the possibility of having sex with someone who’s pregnant…

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I’ve just finished publishing a trilogy of stories based off a wank fantasy I have about confession. When I’m masturbating to the idea of it, I don’t tend to fill in all the details – I get a feeling for most of the back story without ever needing to flesh it out. What’s more, there are elements of the story that exist in my head which won’t make it to the page for various reasons, both practical and ethical. Because this particular fantasy required a fair amount of adaptation and thought, I thought it’d be a good opportunity to write about the process of turning a grubby wank fantasy into public porn.

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I’m so delighted to welcome this week’s guest blogger, who has been working behind the scenes to test out a kickass product from one of my site sponsors. The New York Toy Collective’s Trans Masc Pump is something that not many UK shops stock but Francesca, who runs the fabulous shop The Pleasure Garden, wanted to make sure that trans guys in the UK had access to some of the same gender expression products as our cousins over the pond. And to spread the word about it, we asked Erik – who wrote a fabulous guest blog here a while ago about sex in the time of fascism – to try out the pump and share his thoughts. I’m so grateful to him for giving such thoughtful insight – not just into how these pumps work, which will be really useful to those of you considering buying one, but also some more personal thoughts on the difference between sex toys and gender-affirming care.

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When she’s sat for long enough in the aftermath of her wanton behaviour – knickers down, bent over the desk in his office, palms smarting from the whipping that kicked off her punishment, he calls her through to the lounge.

Just one word, barked with force and anger:

“Come.”

Note: degradation/humiliation, consensual role play, beating, fucking-as-punishment, slut shaming. Catch up on part one (gang bang in a bar) and part two (tell me where you’ve been) then pop back here for the climax. 

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I love guest posts about people’s relationships to their bodies, especially when those bodies are changing and there’s this burst of new discovery. Even better when those discoveries are hot and full of joy. So I’m especially delighted to welcome this week’s guest blogger – she’s here to share a gorgeous story that combines exquisite sexiness with some fabulously thoughtful introspection about healing after vaginoplasty.

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