It’s a huge gamble, both of us know that, so we’re careful to tiptoe gently around the implications. I haven’t seen this guy in many many years, and he lives far enough away that we can’t just catch up over a drink. A visit? For three nights? It’s a huge gamble. But he asks me at exactly the right point – says ‘shall I come and stay for a bit?’ when I’m feeling brave and horny. So I bury the doubts, keep my expectations low, embrace the knowledge that life is far more fun if you gamble sometimes and tell him ‘fuck it, yes.’

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We all know soaking is filthy, right? For the uninitiated, ‘soaking‘ is a sexual practice attributed to horny Mormons. The logic goes that having sex before marriage is forbidden, but it’s only technically – technically – sex if you actually move it in and out, so you’re allowed to put it in if you make sure to stay really still. Thus, horny Mormon couples who really really want to put it in do exactly that, then lie as still as they possibly can to ensure they don’t summon the wrath of the heavens.

This post is likely to be thoroughly blasphemous and probably offensive if you have religious sensibilities. It’s also going to embrace shame in a way that totally works for kink but does not work as the basis to build a society. Sex is not shameful, but shame makes things filthy. And soaking? Soaking is the filthiest thing since Genesis. 

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I very rarely write erotic fiction, and it’s even rarer for me to write from a ‘straight cis dude’ headspace, because I don’t think I’m very good at it. But I want to have a go, for reasons that I’ll explain a bit in Wednesday’s blog, and also because I like it when I can hire guys to read my stuff as audio – it’s cool to hear my work brought to life by someone other than me. So. Here’s a guy introducing you to his slutty girlfriend and sharing her with you. No prizes for guessing whether I want to be that girl (I really do).

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I’ve often said you can tell how good a sex toy is by how much effort you’re willing to go to in order to use it. If you’ve got a new vibrator but you left it drying by the sink in the bathroom, and couldn’t be arsed to go and get it before settling into a bedroom wank, chances are that isn’t destined to be your number one sex toy. Conversely, if you are willing to spend fully twenty three minutes trying to turn on a half-broken Zumio (as I did this one time), you know that toy is the star around which your best wanks orbit. By this rule, the Hot Octopuss Atom Plus was always going to be a firm favourite, because wrestling it onto a dick and then turning it on took a bit more time than your average cock ring, as did adjusting the settings once it was in place. The buttons were on the side of the cock ring, and you couldn’t easily press them while you were in the middle of banging. Despite the slight faff, my ex and I played with this toy A LOT – each and every fuck with it was a shining and filthy success. Time spent on fiddling with buttons was time very well spent. Luckily, spending so much time with someone’s dick outside of you so you can mess around with the intensity buttons is no longer necessary: Hot Octopuss have just relaunched the Atom Plus cock ring as the Atom Plus Lux, WITH A REMOTE.

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Snippet one comes to me almost in a dream – that edge of wakefulness where you’re aware that you might still be dozing, but the solid feel of your own hand on your skin trips a neuron that reminds you of fucks-in-times-gone-by. In this cock-hungry fantasy, I’m face-down-ass-up on the carpet, in my bra and pants, covered in smears of paint. Someone’s got the crotch of my knickers hooked to one side with his thumb, and he’s sliding himself oh so slowly inside me, growling that I’m a dirty fucking girl.

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