All Posts – Page 6
It’s genocide
Some days it doesn’t feel right to publish silly posts about sex, or self-pitying navelgazing about whatever sadness is swirling round in my head. Today is one of those days. In fact, at the moment, every day feels like one of those days. Every single day we wake up to more appalling images from Gaza, of children being deliberately starved. What is happening in Gaza is a genocide. I can’t comprehend how it is possible to see what’s going on and conclude it is anything but. The aid trucks queuing outside the border, refused entry, and the people inside clamouring for food and being met with bullets instead. We are watching a genocide play out on our screens, and our governments are locking people up for stating this obvious fact.
Guest blog: Sweat for life – an ode to odour
Introducing Jenby’s guest blogs makes me feel like a lowly intern announcing the arrival of the CEO: her adventures are as creative as her writing is exquisite, and I am always in awe of both. She’s the most prolific guest blogger here on the site, as well as almost certainly the kinkiest person I have ever met. Just this year she’s already told us about some fun (and romantic) sharps’ play, her first ever nyotaimori scene, and getting railed at an orgy while dressed as Marie Antoinette. I was telling a friend just this morning about Jenby’s recent hucow episode, in which she was literally milked in front of a lucky audience at a club, and my friend (herself no stranger to deliciously creative pervery) exclaimed in wonder – with wide, excited eyes – that she had just learned an awesome brand new thing. I am always honoured that Jenby brings this thrill of deviant discovery to my blog. Today she is here with another kickass story, and this one’s all about sweat. Buckets and buckets and buckets of it. Open wide.
What it feels like to have tits
Almost every guy I have ever dated has told me that if they had tits themselves, they’d spend all day just staring at and playing with them. I am not getting ready to snark, or shame anyone for saying this, in fact I completely understand. Tits are fucking awesome. The thing that makes me horniest about my own body is the excellent rack stuck to the front of it. Although I don’t spend all day groping them or staring (I’m a busy girl), I do spend a fairly sizeable chunk of my time being aware of them – enjoying how they look and feel – so I thought I’d have a go at answering the unspoken question hovering beneath all those comments from all those past boyfriends. Here’s what it feels like to have tits.
Note: I’m a cis woman who has mostly dated cis dudes. I’ve tried not to be too gendered in this because tits are not exclusive to one gender, but my perspective is naturally coloured by my experiences.
I want to spit him out
I want to spit him out of me. Bear with me as I heave this blog post up, please. I have never written anything this bitter because I have never felt this way before in my life. I feel like I’ve swallowed slow-acting poison: his love is poison, and I want to spit him out of me.
Please don’t use AI to write porn
Cast your mind back to the last time something gave you a kick of surprising new lust. You know what I mean, right? The little moments during sex when someone said something with a particular intonation and it caused you to melt from the inside. The written erotica that made just a few tweaks to the kind of phrases you think about when you masturbate, and suddenly opened the door to a whole new avenue of fantasy. Maybe you were scrolling through your favourite porn site, and you discovered a fresh way to position two subs for a beating that gave you… well… feelings. Cast your mind back to how you felt when you were last turned on by something that surprised you. Now hold that thought, and treasure it: it may be much rarer in the future.