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.
I would love to know how many people, since the beginning of 2020, have started having intense fantasies about videoconference fucking. I bet it’s quite a few of us. Personally I’ve reignited some of my conference call sex fantasies from back in the day. While I would never recommend actually getting it on (alone or with other people) when your work colleagues are on the line, that doesn’t mean you can’t dream about it. Wank about it. Write about it. Today’s guest blog is by Fajolan, who has written beautifully before on hands and surreptitious touching, as well as a unique solution to the problem of ‘getting a room.’ Now she’s here to share her own unique take on videoconference fucking, and I adore the detail of how it’s set up – the thought that’s gone into how it’d work as well as the hotness of the shag itself…
I love the idea that people who read erotica are more likely to pick up a pen and write some of their own too. Taking your fantasies and putting them down on paper can be a tremendously joyous thing. But writing erotica can be nervewracking too, even if you’re an experienced writer in other, less sex-focused areas. This week’s guest blogger is just that: a professional writer who recently turned his hand to penning something sexy. He got in touch to offer a guest post about the uniquely nervewracking (and fun!) act of writing erotica for the first time. So if you’ve been tempted to try your hand at it and need a little nudge to get started? This post is for you!
“What was the plot of that porn, then?” He asks me, twenty seconds after we’ve both come. We’re sitting side-by-side on the sofa, him covered in spunk and me casually discarding the dildo and Zumio I used to get there myself. On the TV the porn scene we were watching still plays: porn with no plot, just a couple of people having a vigorous and sexy shag. He reaches for the controller to switch it off as I try to put into words what ‘the plot of that porn’ really was.