Tag Archives: cunt
Nocturnal: bareback in the dark
This gorgeous ode to bareback is written and read by Robyn of RobynEatsEverything.
The birdsong outside woke me up before the feel of his hard dick pressing against my back. I was briefly confused; why was there a bird calling outside in the dead of night? I lifted my head briefly to check and yes, it was still dark. The only source of light was seeping from underneath the bathroom door, the light we’d forgotten to turn off hours earlier, before we both fell into bed and each other.
Sweat: he tastes every inch of me
This gorgeous story about sex and sweat is written and read by Robyn of RobynEatsEverything. Note: this is a work of fiction and a fantasy scenario; please don’t approach Robyn in the gym.
As I lift my arms up above my head, I feel a stream of cool sweat trickling down the nape of my neck, finding a cleft in my skin in which to swim lower between my shoulder blades, the small of my back, and into the gape of my leggings to the valley between my cheeks. The dampness of my skin would suggest the aircon in the gym isn’t working today; there’s no frigid breeze relieving my cherry-red cheeks. Working through this set, I’m more aware of other little streams crawling down my body and pooling in the most uncomfortable places; under my tits, my arse, under my belly, between my thighs.
Guest blog: I love to be fingered
It is perhaps one of the most common laments in sex writing, or at least it has been in my experience: we don’t give enough time and attention to fingering. The joy of getting fingered deserves way more love – not just on this blog, but everywhere. So if you like fingering or being fingered, LM (who has written beautiful BDSM love stories on these pages before) is here with a stunningly hot guest piece about it.
24 hour trilogy part 1: Cunt
The second I walk in the door, he’s all over me. Soft lips and firm hands. Rummaging under my clothes and kissing me passionately, before I’ve even had the chance to take off my boots or unclip the panniers from my bike. It’s hurried, urgent, eager. Exactly as I’d seen it in my idle daydreams. I’ve been thinking on this for the last two days, ever since the possibility of it was first floated. A tentative ‘if you’re in the mood for sexy ideas…’ followed by a fantasy of such powerful dominance and laser-targeted kink accuracy it had me squirming in wet knickers at my desk. You bet I’m in the mood. How are you fixed for Sunday?
The man who knows how to fuck me
At one point, mid-fuck, with his wet fingers circling my clit, the man who knows how to fuck me growls something into my ear. I can’t remember the exact words and I hate myself for that, not least because I’m sure if I could conjure them precisely, that particular sentence would make for some truly epic wanks. Forgive me for paraphrasing, I’d fallen deeply into a fuckdrunk haze, but it was something like ‘aren’t you a dirty fucking girl?’, with extra resonance on the ‘girl’, just how I like it. Whatever he said and however he said it, it caused me to absolutely gush all over his hand. Yeah I’m a dirty girl: QED.