This week’s guest blog talks about a sensation I think I might have experienced. I have no solid memories of this happening, but when I read this guest blogger’s post I felt like I was brushing up against this sensation in my mind – like I’m straining to remember the detail of something which happened in a dream. It’s glorious. Please welcome Phoenix Rose, who is here to talk to you about sleepy subspace.
This week’s guest blog is by the wonderful @EuclideanPoint – a fellow sex writer and fantastic person who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at Eroticon a few times. She’s here to talk about something that isn’t often discussed: miscarriage. Specifically about returning to kink after the trauma of a miscarriage, so be aware that the post could be a tricky read for some. As I’ve got older, and known more people who have experienced miscarriage, one of the biggest surprises is how we’re still struggling to talk about this heartbreaking experience. When she sent me her post, Euclidean Point wanted to emphasise that she’s on Twitter if any of you have struggled with the same thing and would like someone to talk to.
He’s never really spanked me with a hairbrush. Hasn’t even picked it up from my dressing table while I’m peering into the mirror to do eyeliner, then delivered a playful, thudding whack onto my jeans-clad bum before we leave on a night out. But that doesn’t mean a girl can’t dream.
This post contains corporal punishment and elements of consensual non-consent.
The other day I tiptoed into the bedroom while he was napping in the afternoon. He was naked. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead in the baking June heatwave. His chest hair stuck to his skin and he had a slight frown on his face, as if – in his sleep – he was trying to solve a difficult problem. His cock stood out hard and proud away from his body, almost straight up in the air, inviting me to slide down onto it and fuck him in the sticky haze of summer.
I’m a fucking sucker for a love story. Especially if that story throbs with lust as well, and pulls you in to the floaty-sexy-romantic headspace of the people who are falling for each other. Be aware that if you’re squeamish about blood or age play it might not be for you, but if you – like me – are a lustful romantic, you’ll probably adore this like I did. Please welcome LM, who’s here to tell you a BDSM love story.