This fabulous adventure with the Sex Scientist featuring a pink pussy pump is written by EL Byrne of Lustitude, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net. 

“If you order more stuff, look for some pussy pumping device,” his text read.

“You want me to order one if I find?” I typed, my mind already whirling with possibilities.

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“I’ve been thinking of getting a cock ring,” my toyboy tells me, and I nearly reach through the screen and grab him by the collar as I bark: “do not even think about getting one that isn’t the Atom Plus Lux.” It’s the best vibrating cock ring I’ve ever used, by quite some margin, and my heart breaks at the thought of his burgeoning enthusiasm for sex toys being dampened by any lesser item. Besides, alongside other benefits of dating me (like my high-quality jokes and love of sucking cock), there are practical perks to dating a sex blogger too, namely: I’ll get you free cock rings if you flutter your eyelashes nicely.

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Drinking water is pretty miraculous, isn’t it? It’s delicious and refreshing in the morning – a lovely little wake-up treat. It’s a calming joy before bedtime, hydrating and nourishing you without adding caffeine or sugar that might keep you awake for too long. A glass or bottle of water is a good thing to hold while you’re chatting – you can sip on it to punctuate a sentence or fill a silent gap. And best of all… it’s fucking GOOD FOR YOU! Not only are you allowed to have it whenever you want, but 100% of doctors agree that we need it in order to live.

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This stunning tickling kink erotica is written and read by Molly Moore, and originally appeared on her website. 

He points at the bed.

“Lay down.”

It’s a request, not a command, but I take up his offer. The messages he had sent me earlier today gave me the distinct impression he had plans for me tonight. Not a punishment as such – we don’t play like that – but maybe ‘a lesson to learn’ is a better phrase.

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Back in August last year, I wrote a post called ‘love is an addiction’. In that blog, which I typed up as a distraction to help me hold off the urgent, all-encompassing desire to text my ex-boyfriend, I said this…

“It feels like trying to quit smoking – an exercise as vital as it is futile, at which I have failed every single time I’ve tried. But I still haven’t sent that text so now I wonder if the wasted, flabby muscle that might once have been my willpower is growing with each passing day. Perhaps every text I compose and do not send builds that muscle up – flexes it, makes it stronger. Maybe if I can make it through the next six months, I can make that muscle strong enough that it’ll haul me through to the end of my smoking addiction. Wouldn’t that be a thing?”

Well, here’s a thing: I quit smoking.

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