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On autumn sex

Autumn is one of the best seasons. Keats wrote of autumn as a season of harvests and fruits and whatnot, but to most people autumn’s delights fall mainly into the ‘Halloween’ or ‘nearly Christmas’ camps.

However, autumn is my favourite season. Partly because I spend most of the summer being uncomfortable in my clothes and yearning for the time when I can wear jeans and a massive hoodie without people staring in the street. But mostly because there are some things about autumn that I find desperately sexy. Here are three of them:

Wet men

I see wet women fetishised all the time – whether it’s the ubiquitous wet T-shirt competition, or that bit in Spiderman where Kirsten Dunst gets a sexy rainy snog in a see-through dress. But when it comes to wet men the only iconic hotness I can think of is that bit in Pride and Prejudice where Mr Darcy emerges glistening from a lake (now available as a statue!).

In short: wet men are underrated. There are not enough pictures of wet men. But now that autumn’s here, the rains cometh. And with the rains come the tousled shaggy locks of scruffy hipster boys, the raindrops glistening on the heads of hot bald guys, the clinging t-shirts on the men who got caught in the rain.

And best of all, the drips of water running in rivulets down their faces and onto their necks, eventually trickling below the collar line and making me want to lick them.

Men in jumpers

This is probably not even sexual. I just fucking love a good jumper. Not a tacky ‘look how ironic I am’ Christmas jumper, but a big, shaggy bury-your-face-in-my-chest jumper. I’d never dictate to a man what clothing he should wear, but I can reveal that despite my aversion to hugs from strangers, I am far more likely to want to press myself up against you if I can guarantee that the hug will feel like falling into bed.

I take it back: it probably is a sexual thing.

Sex to warm up

You know how it is: October rain, a chill breeze blowing through the house. You can either turn the heating on and line the pockets of BigEnergy Co, ensuring fatcat profits for their shareholders and a slightly crapper Christmas present for your Mum this year… or you can fuck to stay warm like the cavemen used to.

I prefer the second option.

Cold hands running over my clothes, feeling almost painfully intrusive when they eventually reach my goosepimpled skin, then the gradual warm up as your hands get hotter and are allowed further down my body. Running my own hands inside your big sexy jumper to feel the heat of your back, your chest, your stomach, and then the moment when they finally get warm enough that I can place them on your dick without you yelping.

The ultimate beauty of autumn sex is that while you’re pounding and I’m straining and gasping and gripping you tight with my legs, neither of us notices the cold. It’s only afterwards that we realise, as you lie panting and hot beside me, and I can feel the droplets of your sweat cool far too quickly on my chest.


  • boxo says:

    Good lord woman, I really want to meet you. Keep up the good penis.

  • Ian says:

    there is nothing so comfortable, so amazingly, gorgeously pleasant, as a warm bed and a warm partner on a cold morning.

    • Girl on the net says:

      Oh God yes – we should all get an extra hour in bed before work during the autumn/winter months to make the most of this deliciousness. Even if I were single, I’d appreciate it as a chance to catch up on cosy masturbation.

  • Clare says:

    Good grief. You’ve taken three of my favourite sexy things about autumn and made them even sexier. *hunts out Nordic-jumpered men with a butterfly net and handcuffs*

  • With you on the jumpers. I get at least one every Christmas and by the time Autumn rolls around again I break them out for another year. Currently wearing a massive, thick grey thing to work every day. It’s fantastic.

  • Vida says:

    pretty sure Lust Bites did a wet men post in their heyday. I suspect Kristina Lloyd was involved.

  • Paul says:

    When I was younger, I loved autumn. It meant the end of incredibly hot summer, girls starting again to put on their nylon stockings without having to beg them for and look like a perv when asking them to keep those lovely hold-ups on till the end.

    Mommy used to complain about the end of summer. She would always say “oh, another year’s gone… now come the sad autumn and sadder winter… and we are one year older”. As my parents get old, I now understand what mommy says about the end of summer. It makes me sad. Not the end of summer (which is still not my favourite season). Time passing makes me sad.

    I love autumn sex. I love winter sex. I love spring sex. I love summer sex.
    I just have become more sensitive to time passing.

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