Search Results for: free use
Competition – a gang bang with a twist
Brace yourself: I think this might be the most narcissistic, self-centered wank fantasy I’ve ever had. But seeing as it’s given me so many excellent afternoon distractions, I thought I’d share it with you. It involves a gang bang, a competition, and a hell of a lot of struggle-fucking.
Bridle: challenging our misconceptions about female sexuality
Today’s guest blogger is writer and performer Stephanie Martin – she’s here to talk about sexuality, particularly women’s sexuality and the way it is policed. Check out her blog post below and if you’re in London, come along to her play Bridle, which is on at the Kings Head Theatre in Islington on 11th, 12th and 16th July.
Steph wanted me to point out that when she talks about ‘women’ and ‘female sexuality’, she means all women: not just cis women. I kind of hope that on this blog you can take that as read, but just in case, I’m going to state it up front. Her post also includes mention of some things that might be distressing including sexual assault and rape.
Come in your pants while I think about Crossrail
This story was written after someone asked me about making guys come in their pants. I’d tweeted about it recently, and they were curious as to how someone could make this happen. I think my answer is that it’s all in the preparation and build-up. So I wanted to write something which gives the build-up, and the context. Then I got a bit carried away.
This erotic story combines two of my greatest loves: making guys come in their pants and… Crossrail. Sure, it involves descriptions of masturbation and anal sex, and a secret hand job at the back of a lecture theatre. But at its heart it’s a love letter to Crossrail. The non-human love of my life.
Sexy shorts are the summer gift that keeps on giving
“SHORTS,” my brain screams, irritatingly. “LOOK. MEN WEARING SEXY SHORTS.” Try as I might to shut it up, it refuses to be silenced on the most important issue of the day. “LOOK,” it insists, even as I try to distract myself by remembering my times tables, “THERE ARE SEXY LEGS ALL OVER THE PLACE. SHORTS. LOOK AT THE SEXY SHORTS.” So I comply. I drink it in. And I melt with lust.
Collars and leashes and refreshing your kinks
When I was young, I wore a dog collar. A literal, actual dog collar of the kind you could buy from any old pet shop. Black leather, studded: the kind you’d use if you wanted your dog to look slightly menacing. I desperately wanted my boyfriend to clip a leash through the metal loops and pull my face onto his cock while I sucked him. But he never did.