Snippet one comes to me almost in a dream – that edge of wakefulness where you’re aware that you might still be dozing, but the solid feel of your own hand on your skin trips a neuron that reminds you of fucks-in-times-gone-by. In this cock-hungry fantasy, I’m face-down-ass-up on the carpet, in my bra and pants, covered in smears of paint. Someone’s got the crotch of my knickers hooked to one side with his thumb, and he’s sliding himself oh so slowly inside me, growling that I’m a dirty fucking girl.

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Once, I asked him to give me the first stroke as slowly as he possibly could. Prolong that initial shot of cock for as long as humanly possible. From the moment the head of his dick touched the wet lips of my cunt to the final stretch as it nudged against my cervix: make the first stroke of that fuck really fucking last.

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This hot, sensual massage story is written and read by the fabulous Sherryl Blu. 

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It’s hard to conceptualise cock worship as a kink in and of itself, because I already love your cock. The idea of specifically setting down to ‘worship’ it feels as odd to me as collective prayer might feel to a person whose spirituality resonates in everything they do. Worship your cock? What, specifically and deliberately? I already live in a state of low-level cock worship even when it isn’t in my mouth.

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OK so hear me out: ten condom fucks. Fucks which require a large number of condoms. Fucks which start at about 2pm, are interspersed with drinks and chatting and playing Beat Saber and slow-dancing sexily in the middle of the living room. Fucks which ebb and flow between oral, penetration, and naked touching, meaning each time you decide you’re gonna get down to it, you slip on a new condom. Fucks which mean you have to scatter condoms throughout the apartment so there’s always one easily to hand. Ten condom fucks.

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