All Posts – Page 301
Sex stories, lies and memory
When you tell someone a story, how much of it is true? Every detail? Probably not. Whenever you tell someone something that actually happened, there’ll be elements of it that you remember perfectly, and other elements that you don’t. You’ll perhaps gloss over some of the awkward details, or play them up to comic effect, or tell a story in a context which doesn’t fully explain the whys as well as the whats.
And so it is with sex stories.
During an email interview the other day, someone asked me how much of what I write is true. My initial, kneejerk response was: all of it. And that’s the simplest answer. Everything I write here – unless it’s specifically marked as a fantasy or bucket list shag – actually happened. But to say it like that is to gloss over what actually happens when you write up a sex story – whether it’s a relationship you had ten years ago, or a quickie you had last night.
Fucking interrupted
From casual conversations held with friends in darkened rooms, while they don’t realise that I’ve got a guy’s dick tight inside me, to moments when people walk in while we’re fucking. That split second where they stand and stare and can’t work out how to extract themselves if the ground resolutely refuses to swallow them. I was going to write about that stuff this week. It was going to be light-hearted and fun and a bit hot. Then, as I was collating anecdotes and remembering past fucks that fit the bill, I stumbled upon a sex story I’ve never written up – a brief encounter so horny that I couldn’t let it go. While sex interruptions are frustrating at the time, I doubt this brief fuck would have burned so clearly in my mind unless we’d been disturbed partway through, adding a heart-thumping fear and greater urgency to everything.
I might still write about sex interruptions in general, but for now you can have this: the filthy sex story that’s sat in my head for the last four days and won’t stop bugging me until I’ve relived it properly. Some things are just like that, you know? Well, you’ll see.
Guest blog: guys in the shower
There are certain places I’d give my right arm to get into. Gay saunas, comedy club backstage green rooms, all-male showers… Some of these are more likely than others – I’ve a story about the green room that I’ll tell you some time. But for now, awesome guest bloggers give me a glimpse into those worlds that I’d never get a guest pass to.
This guest blog, by Anandamide, is about guys in the shower…
Tight fucking, being smothered and my favourite sex position
This is my favourite sex position: me face down. Head buried in the pillow. Heat that borders on claustrophobia. Legs straight, and slightly parted. He kneels above me, ideally holding his dick in one hand, using the other to squash and pinch and slap my arse. There’s a vulnerable feeling – being exposed and examined and used. Occasionally spread.
I like to watch you flirt
“I think the barista fancies me,” he explained as we wandered towards the coffee shop. “She’s quite flirty, you know?”
Yeah. I know. I know a million guys who are convinced that the barista in their regular coffee shop fancies them. They pop in of a morning, freshly showered and ready for work, and order their usual from someone who knows how to make it. That loving ritual of giving and receiving hot drink adds an extra tinge of flirtiness to an otherwise mundane transaction. A simple ‘how are you?’ can be transformed into a declaration of playful lust.
“No, she doesn’t fancy you,” I told him, twattishly. “Everyone thinks the barista is flirting with them – they teach them how to do it in barista school.”
“Yeah,” a twitch of something that looks like relief on his face. “You’re probably right.”