I remember very vividly the first sexy daydream I had about a boy. I felt myself growing hot and tense inside before experiencing a release of arousal as the daydream came to climax. Not a real climax, sadly I’ve never had the ability to make myself come just by thinking about the right thing. But the right thoughts can trigger something intense, and this was the first time I’d experienced that intensity: the instant, shocking realisation that my mind could make my body do this thing, purely through the power of imagination. It was way more graphic than the purely cerebral lust I’d felt for guys in the past. When I talk about this feeling on the blog, I often refer to it as that ‘kick in the gut’ of lust. Or the unngh moment. Some fantasies might press a few buttons in your mind, sparking ideas and feelings that you want to follow up later, but these particular sexy dreams and daydreams are on another level: they kick me in the gut. Give me that unngh.

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A few days before we’re due to hang out, he texts me a fantasy. Couched in the standard consent-focused caveats (“Only if that sounds hot to you…”) that I find extremely cute – they function essentially as the ‘no worries if not!’ of fucking. His request is neat, specific, and very easy to achieve: he wants to arrive at my place, have me greet him at the door with no words whatsoever, then as soon as he’s inside, drop to my knees and start sucking his dick. No words, just cocksucking.

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Oh hey team, sorry to bother you. Quick question. Won’t take long. Just wanna sense-check something based on my own patterns of behaviour and whether or not they could be considered ‘normal’. Tell me: when should I stop masturbating over my ex?

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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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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…

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