Sometimes writing is about having a great idea then spending ages writing, rewriting and editing until it can work as a story. At other times it’s just about vomiting an idea onto a page and hoping that people like it. If you’d like the former, check out some other erotic fiction here. If you’re happy with the latter, here’s a story I wrote this week.
Content note: this fiction plays with the idea of non-consent/reluctance, so if that’s not your cup of tea please don’t read on.
He likes me to greet him when he comes home from work. But ‘greet’ means different things to different people. To him, it means ‘come and meet me at the front door, give me a hug and kiss like you missed me.’ I’d prefer to greet him on my knees, mouth open, ready for him to tell me “I’ve had a really hard day at work” before proceeding to brutally fuck my face.
We love each other. We fancy each other. We live together. I think about his cock almost constantly, and I’m betting he does too. We are inside each other’s heads all the time, and in bed together every night. We touch on the sofas while Netflix is on, and we steal kisses on the tube on our nights out to go and meet friends. And we only ever really fuck on Sundays.
After the report that many Brits only have sex once a week, I considered writing a blog post about why ‘number of times you did it’ is a shit way to measure how happy people’s sex lives are, and how annoying it is that these studies usually only include a very narrow set of acts in their definition of what ‘sex’ is. But that didn’t seem as fun as what I’m about to do, which is write some erotic fiction about a couple who only fucks on Sundays.
As soon as I read the sexy story for this week’s guest blog – about an intense first prostate massage – I knew a whole lot of you would fall in love with it. This week’s guest blogger is not only an incredible writer, she is a passionate domme on a mission: to get femdom the kind of mainstream attention that maledom got after 50 Shades of Grey.