Tag Archives: bdsm
Warming my hand – fisting erotica
This gorgeous fisting erotica – which includes BDSM and degradation – is written and read by Quenby, and originally appeared on their blog.
Her legs are bent at the knee, spread open before me. Her mound bristles with trimmed pubes, leading down to her cunt glistening with arousal. I lean forward, inhaling her musky scent. My tongue flicks out, running along her lips before pushing into her wet heat. I pull back and look at her: “Mmm, you’re so fucking wet. I love the taste of your cunt.”
Coming home part 2: “Do you want to taste me?”
This is the second part of a gorgeous domestic dominance story, written and read by Ferns. It originally appeared on her website Domme Chronicles. You can read or listen to part 1 of ‘Coming home’ here.
I finally took my foot from your mouth, stood up, hiked up my skirt and straddled you, whumping down onto your chest so your breath left your body in a huff, my bare arse in my g-string against your chest. You drew gasping breaths as I pulled your arms down, and trapped them against your body with my knees and legs on either side of you. I shimmied up towards your face and pulled your head up by your hair so that you was facing my crotch.
Guest blog: Spanked by a couple in their hotel room
I really enjoy erotic fiction that’s just someone going ‘here’s a thing I want, imagine if I just went out and… got it?’ – that’s one of the things I love about today’s piece by @EuphemiseThis. Well, that and the mention of the sound of someone undoing a belt buckle: objectively the hottest noise in the entire world. You’ve met today’s guest blogger a few times before – discussing velvet fetishes, forbidden fucks and a tryst with a burlesque goddess. But today she’s here with some super-hot fiction about getting spanked by a couple…
Vulnerable submission – sadism, sex and satisfaction
This real life story about vulnerable submission is by Victoria Blisse, and first appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net.
“On your hands and knees.”
We’d had fun already, my body already ached, but I didn’t hesitate to do as I was told.
I killed the mood but he brought it back
Partway through a fuck, I realise something’s not quite right, and I mention it. BAM! I have killed the mood. I’m annoyed with myself and a little disappointed so I tell him. We stop shagging. We hug. We sweat. I say “sorry” a few more times, because “sorry” is the word I instinctively reach for when I have nothing else to say. “Stop saying sorry,” he tells me. “Stop saying you killed the mood.” But I can’t stop saying it, I’m stuck in a loop of it, and I don’t know how to escape. There are two paths open to him here…