All Posts – Page 4
Let’s get one thing straight: sometimes your cum is a gift. A precious, delightful treasure that you bestow upon me for being a very good girl. And sometimes your cum is something you dispose of: splattering it onto me or dumping it into me like it is nothing more than trash. And by extension, so am I. The main thing that makes the difference here is tone – the way we’re fucking and what we’re saying to each other while we do it. But the best way to strike that tone can be achieved by putting your cum in my cunt versus cum in my ass.
Regular readers have already met (and probably been massively turned on by) the brilliant Quenby Creatives. Quenby is a queer writer and activist who has already contributed some absolutely smoking-hot audio porn to the site. In today’s guest blog, Quenby offered to write up a post about their breeding kink, and frankly I am both informed and aroused in equal measure. OK, not equal measure, it’s an incredibly sexy post…
Society will not officially be over its sexual hang-ups until it no longer seems refreshing or surprising to see romcom lovers fuck doggy-style. Until a heroic character can casually suck off a stranger and not be punished for it in act three. We will know when we’re over our squeamishness about fucking when Batman (who literally kills people on screen) is allowed to give Catwoman head. Sadly, news just in: Batman can’t give head.
Today’s guest blogger is Rose of On Her Back – check out her blog, Twitter and OnlyFans! That last one is the reason she’s here today – to tell you all about why she started up an OnlyFans, and how it swiftly became more than just ‘a job’ during Covid, but a much-needed confidence boost and welcome addition to her sex life.
CN: discussion of weight loss
This post was inspired by someone on Twitter a while ago who objected to the phrase ‘toxic masculinity’ and wanted to know if there was such a thing as ‘toxic femininity‘. I don’t know that there is, but this is the scenario that leapt to mind.
I don’t hate men, but I do hate this man. We race together towards a red light. He’s not far behind me, but he definitely is behind me. We yank on our brakes to come to a halt, and he pulls up next to me. Then, side-by-side, we sweat. We pant. We eye each other up. Then amber, green: go – we’re off. Another futile race which he cannot possibly win. He’ll try anyway, why not? And I don’t care if he tries – I like that he does. I swallow his attempts to beat me like shots of tequila and cum, delighting in how bitterly they burn as they slide down my throat.