This post contains elements of consensual non-consent, i.e. when someone feigns reluctance during sex play. In this case it’s a stealth fuck where someone comes into the other person’s house late at night and climbs into bed with them. Everything in it is fully consensual, and the people involved have discussed the scenario in detail before attempting to fulfil the fantasy. Don’t ever do this in real life unless you have talked about it in detail and understand what your partner consents to (and how they can withdraw that consent if they change their mind), and please don’t read on if you find this kind of thing distressing. 

It’s her birthday, and he’s promised her something really special: a midnight visit when she’s asleep. She loves getting fucked in her sleep. The sensation of waking up – dreamy and vulnerable – to find his bodyweight pressing down on top of her. His rock-hard dick shoving roughly into her cunt. For years she’s been desperate for someone to do this to her – for her – and finally it’s going to happen.

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OK so hear me out: ten condom fucks. Fucks which require a large number of condoms. Fucks which start at about 2pm, are interspersed with drinks and chatting and playing Beat Saber and slow-dancing sexily in the middle of the living room. Fucks which ebb and flow between oral, penetration, and naked touching, meaning each time you decide you’re gonna get down to it, you slip on a new condom. Fucks which mean you have to scatter condoms throughout the apartment so there’s always one easily to hand. Ten condom fucks.

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Let’s get one thing straight: sometimes your cum is a gift. A precious, delightful treasure that you bestow upon me for being a very good girl. And sometimes your cum is something you dispose of: splattering it onto me or dumping it into me like it is nothing more than trash. And by extension, so am I. The main thing that makes the difference here is tone – the way we’re fucking and what we’re saying to each other while we do it. But the best way to strike that tone can be achieved by putting your cum in my cunt versus cum in my ass.

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We used to do this thing, back in my old flat, where he’d lube his dick up and slide it between the cheeks of my arse. Just… thrusting back and forth, where my bum meets the top of my thighs. I love the way it feels, and the sense that he’s so horny he’ll fuck anything to relieve the ache in his dick. Sometimes he’d slip his dick forward and up a bit so it was tight between my labia. Almost-but-not-quite entering my cunt. Often this made me so wet we didn’t need to replenish the lube, and he’d fuck my ass with the stuff left over from before, plus all the quim I’d drizzled out onto him. But we never tried it like this before: me on my front, one hand reaching down between my legs to press the head of his cock tighter against my clit, until I felt him come with my fingertips.

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It’s everything I hate in a sofa, this thing: brown; leather; thin metal legs; angular armrests that you can’t properly lean against and a seat that’s too narrow for spooning. I hate this sofa so much that when my ex and I hung out together, I used to sit on the floor. Give me well-worn carpet and a numb bum over sticky brown leather any day of the week. I hate this sofa for every single thing… except fucking. This sofa features in almost every filthy post I’ve written on this blog in the last four years. This sofa launched a thousand fucks.

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