I sit still. Very still. So still I am almost holding my breath. I can feel the cool tile underneath my legs, his warm arms around my shoulders. My nipples are taut and hard. I can feel his erection pressing into my back, as I stare into the darkness and bite my lip. And I sit still.

(more…)

Is there anything in life more tedious than a conference call for a job you hate? You’re half involved in something you barely care about, and most of the people involved wouldn’t notice if you simply logged out. But – like fantasising about teachers during lectures – you can spice up even the dullest conference call with the addition of a dirty story…

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“Oh Jesus fuck yeah that’s we… yeah that’s weird… and umm holy fuck. Oh God ah it actually…”

Long pause while he fucks me more, just to check his assessment is correct.

“It actually feels…”

More fucking…

“Like your cunt is…”

Harder…

“…actively trying to pull my dick further in.”

(more…)

When I was young, my best friend used to come and hug me from behind. He’d wrap his arms around my stomach, with his skinny forearms nestling just under my breasts. Ridiculously in love with him, I’d seize the opportunity to breathe in the smell of him, lean backwards into his chest and wonder: if I struggled, just a little … would he hold me tighter?

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As a general rule I don’t like blindfolds. I could try and bullshit you about how I like to look into someone’s eyes when they tip over the edge of a powerful orgasm, but while that’s true, it’s not the whole truth. My dislike of blindfolds comes from a meaner place. They’re a bit… tame, aren’t they? A bit … (whisper it) … 50 Shades? But laying my irrational snobbery to one side, the other day I cracked out one of my many airplane-branded blindfolds (they’re free, so I am literally allergic to not taking them home) to try some sensory deprivation sex.

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