In which he tells me a sexy story…

Image by the awesome Stuart F Taylor

Everything that happens in this blog post is consensual. But it involves two people exploring consensual non-consent fantasies, so please be aware before you read. 

I love a good bedtime story. Ideally a story told in hushed whispers, with his lips pressed right up against my ear and his hand rummaging eagerly at my cunt.

It’s probably frustrating, when you’re getting hot and hard and ready, to have your partner pause for a break in proceedings to ask for a bedtime story. But there’s something about a sexy story that gets me wetter than a hand could. The plot, the fucking itself, the veiled implication that these are things he would do to me if he could…

Yeah. I like sexy stories.

Most of the time, bedtime stories take the form of memories or future plans.

“Remember when we…?”

“Have you ever wanted to..?”

And they’re great. But they’re different. I’m talking here about real bedtime stories – scripts he writes in his head, with the express purpose of turning me on.

Here’s one of my favourites.

Fuck the princess

You’re a princess. No. Wait – not a princess. Just a maid working shit hours at a castle. The King and Queen don’t appreciate you – they barely even look at you. You scrub floors and you sweat and you wish your clothes weren’t so heavy and tight and restrictive.

One day you’re cleaning out one of the dark rooms behind the throne room. Polishing silver, that kind of thing. You shine a tiara until it sparkles, and you try it on – just quickly, while no one’s looking.

You preen in the mirror.

Twisting one way, then another, admiring yourself, it takes time for you to notice that the King is standing behind you.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Never do that. That’s my wife’s.”

You’re scared. But only a bit. More than scared you’re excited being this close to power. Standing in front of the King.

“So you want to be the queen, do you?”

You nod, slowly, and he tells you to turn around. Lift your skirts high and kneel on the floor in front of him. He takes a long, slow look at you – seeing everything except your face – and unfastens his trousers.

You’re so hot at the idea of him fucking you. Not because he’s attractive – attractive doesn’t feature when it’s the King. You just do what he says because you’re happy to please him.

He tells you not to look directly at him, just to lie face-down on the floor.

He doesn’t know your name.

And at this point I’m going to switch the story – because hearing it from his mouth and hearing it from mine are two very different things. The reason this story is one of my favourites is not just because he tells it, but because he tells it in so much tailored detail. Everything I love about the way the King fucks me comes from something I’ve told him before

The way he stands over me, feeling hotly, grotesquely entitled to my cunt. The way his cock stays flaccid in his hand for just too long, as he tries to squeeze and beat a hard-on out of it. The anger that builds as he struggles with it, and the flash of blame he feels as he struggles with his limp dick, becoming more determined to fuck me as he gets more enraged that I’m not quite good enough. 

And all this sounds better in my words rather than his. Because if I only tell you his then the storyteller himself sounds grotesque. But he’s not. He’s telling me a story that I want to hear, pieced together from a patchwork of my other fantasies. 

“And then?” I ask him, trembling slightly and hoping that as his King reaches the climax he’ll slip two fingers into my aching cunt.

“Then,” he says, matter-of-factly, “he fucks you. Lying face down on the floor, shaking slightly with a need for it, you feel him kneel over you. Dick just hard enough that he can push it in. One stroke… two strokes… it’s all he needs. After two strokes, he spits come into you with a shudder.”


“You like that story?”


“When he’s done, he zips himself up and leaves.”

I smile up at him, delighted that he gets the dismissal is as hot as the fuck.

Any more? Oh yeah:

“You don’t get to keep the tiara.”


This post is available as audio – click ‘listen here’ at the start of the post, and check out the audio porn page for more sexy stories read aloud. 


  • SpaceCaptainSmith says:

    Not bad. But hang on: ‘he zips himself up’? What kind of medieval kingdom is this? I don’t think they had zips, even in the Disney versions…

    Sorry to be That Guy, but I demand accuracy in my historical fantasies! :)

    • Girl on the net says:

      Haha, you bastard. You’re only being forgiven for being ‘that guy’ because you’re so nice the rest of the time. Besides, he never said it was a medieval king =)

  • Funloving Girl says:

    Wow, that’s both hot and cute at the same time! It’s so much fun exploring fantasies and one another’s playful side, you are lucky to have an obliging storyteller there. It’s something we tend to do a lot for entertainment when we’re apart… guess I’ll be asking for bedtime stories in person now too.

    • Girl on the net says:

      Ooh, I’m glad I’m not the only one who enjoys a good bedtime story! I think it’s a really impressive skill when someone can tell a story that hits all my good spots =)

  • Willing Author says:

    I can really relate to this, I do this on an almost weekly basis for my wife and it drives her mad. The thing is, I find serious excitement in the impact it has too (and not just because of how filthy she becomes), turning her on is a huge turn on for me. It’s really fun to push the boundaries a bit too, not knowing how acceptable she might find any given idea and then gauging her appreciation by her reaction, super hot.

    I’ve also gone to the length of physically writing her little short stories to enjoy when I’m not there. Sometimes she will hint at plot ideas and I tailor them accordingly.

    Story telling has never been so much fun…..

  • Jim says:

    My girlfriend and I like to write erotic stories one of us starts it then stops and let’s the other go from there, and so on

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