Smutathon 2019: sexy stories for a great cause

Image provided by Smutathon

Extra-special guest blog for you all today: the Smutathon 2019 team are here with a seriously sexy story for a really important cause. Enjoy their fabulous work and donate to this year’s chosen charity using the links below! 

On Saturday 28th September, a group of sex bloggers and writers will gather in Montreal at Bellesa HQ – and join remotely, from all corners of the Earth – for Smutathon 2019! We’ll be writing erotica, essays on sex and sexuality, and personal stories (some filthier than others) for 12 hours straight, to raise money for the National Network of Abortion Funds.

NNAF is a brilliant charity, working on the frontline of reproductive health and justice in a country where those things are threatened more than ever. We’re hoping to raise $5,000 to help them protect and expand abortion access via the advocacy and leadership development work they do with the funds delivering frontline services across the US.

But before we ask you to donate, we thought we’d give you a taste of what might take place during the Smutathon event itself, by sharing a few memories from last year’s event…

Smutathon Diary 2018: 4pm

Some names have been changed.

I looked up from my laptop – and the comfortable armchair into which I’d slowly sunk – to see Kate sucking Tim’s cock. He’d pushed his chair back from the large dining table that doubled as a focused writing space, and she knelt in the gap, one hand planted firmly on each of his bare thighs. Spit already coated her chin, and I could see thick streaks on her face where he’d dragged his cock head across her cheeks.

“I assume you’ve both finished your stories? Or is this how you get in the mood to write the really filthy bits?”

Tim pulled Kate forward, till her nose pressed against his skin. She gasped in protest – a stifled, spluttering sound that I felt rather than heard – but when he relaxed his grip on her hair she moved one hand to his ass and pulled him even deeper inside.

“I’m just helping Kate with one of her sex scenes. She wants the main character to get face-fucked, but wasn’t sure how rough she should make it – so we’re trying a couple of things. Want a go? Her mouth is fucking incredible.”

I shook my head. “I know, my loss, but I’m going to write outside for a bit. And maybe see how the others are doing. We have fundraising targets to hit.”

On the decking outside our large, secluded AirBnB, Maddy masturbated lazily in the sunshine, alternating between three different vibrators as she watched Beth work a large plug into Matt’s ass. His forearms trembled slightly under the strain of holding himself up on all fours, but when Beth reached between his legs to grab his dick, her smile said everything.

“I should go slow, huh? You feel like you might jizz any second. Maddy, do you really need all those toys? Aren’t we giving you enough of a show?”

Maddy spread her legs a little wider in response, and touched the very tip of a slender vibe against her clit. 

“They’re from our sponsors. I want to write one review post for all three, so I need to see which is most effective. Are you going to let Matt come? If so, I want it on my tits.”

I stepped out of my swimming shorts and walked towards the hot tub, laptop in hand. Beth clocked my erection and whistled impatiently.

“Hey, not so fast. Come here and let me take a closer look at that. Matt, turn around.”

She pushed the butt plug all the way inside Matt’s ass. He groaned and arched his back, but didn’t protest as Beth gently manoeuvred him round to face me. I looked down at his flushed cheeks and the hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. I knew he’d sucked dick before, but it wasn’t something he did regularly, and I felt a shiver of pleasure at the greedy expression on his face. 

While I studied Matt and he waited patiently for further instruction, Beth took my cock in her hand and squeezed gently. She had a way of making you feel like it was the only thing she ever wanted to touch; like every penis she encountered was somehow designed to sit perfectly in her eager little fist. I closed my eyes against the bright sunshine and let her explore.

Before I could open them, Matt’s lips slid over the head of my cock. Beth released it from her grasp and murmured encouraging noises as he took more and more into his mouth. He sucked hard, his tongue firm and flat along the underside of my shaft, and I reached down to run my fingers through his soft hair.

With Beth watching attentively, Matt used his own hand to stroke from base to tip as he continued to focus on the head. It was like he was wanking me off into his mouth, and I felt my hips trying to thrust to the same rhythm.

Maddy wandered over, a dildo in each hand.

“Beth, do you have your harness? Matt’s ass just looks so inviting. We could see how well he sucks dick when one of us is fucking from behind.”

Matt nodded as vigorously as he could with my cock filling his throat. I let it bounce out of his mouth and sat back on the edge of the hot tub. From one of the upstairs bedroom windows, Claire’s head emerged, looking flushed.

“Break’s nearly over, guys. Who’s got blog posts scheduled for 5pm?”

Maddy waved a dildo at her in mock annoyance. “Aw, but…”

“No buts. Or butts. Not till we’ve hit at least £1,000.”

I opened my laptop again, and tried to ignore Matt’s tongue as it flicked over the tip of my cock. I checked our fundraising page and scrolled through half-a-dozen supportive messages on Twitter.

“Claire’s right. We can pick this up again in a couple of hours. And of course there’s the gang bang at midnight when we’ve finished writing. I know how much Kate is looking forward to that.”

To smiles and nods from the others, I fired up our Smutathon playlist and went back to my draft post. Maddy laid out her various toys on the garden table and reached for her camera. Beth and Matt went inside to join Kate and Tim at the dining table. Claire waved her notepad at me and stuck her thumb in the air. 

It was time to get writing again.



Ok, confession time: none of that actually happened.

BUT Girl on the Net said more people would read this post if we packed it with smut, and she knows her shit, so there you go! In reality, we’ll spend Saturday working our asses off to bring you as many fab blog posts and stories as we can. We’ll be writing, tweeting, encouraging each other, and banging the drum hard for NNAF, because for a whole load of reasons this particular cause is really fucking important to us. 

Most of you reading this will know someone who’s needed an abortion at some point – or will have had one yourself. The financial, emotional, and in some cases legal cost of that experience probably depended to a large extent on where you/they were at the time (and when it took place). Because abortion is still a lottery. You’re lucky or you’re not. It’s properly funded, wide available, and legal – or it’s not.

In the US, geography is a huge factor. 90% of counties don’t have an abortion clinic. The average cost of a first-trimester abortion is $400, but it climbs quickly after that – as high as $10,000 in some cases – and of course the true cost is much greater for anyone who needs to travel for it.

With conservatives shaping the legislative agenda at all levels of government, even that inadequate access is under threat – perhaps more so than it’s been since the 1970s. The money we raise for NNAF with our smut-writing extravaganza won’t fix that overnight, but it will help one of the fiercest and most effective charities working on the frontline of the battle for social justice to do even more

So if you can – and we realise many of you probably can’t – please do consider reaching into your pocket and supporting Smutathon 2019. If you need even more of an incentive, for every $10 you donate, we’ll give you one ticket to our huge sex toy giveaway raffle, featuring excellent prizes from Godemiche, Bellesa, Hot Octopuss, Satisfyer and more.

Beyond that, please do follow us on Twitter @smutathon2019, spread the word, read our smut – and of course, share the shit out of it on Saturday! We can’t wait.

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