There’s always a worry, when you tick something off your sexual bucket list, that this awesome kink you have lusted after for ages won’t quite live up to your expectations. As the time to fuck approaches, your eager desire for filth is tempered by a voice in the back of your head that says ‘will this be as good as I hope?’ ‘Can a spitroast with a fucking machine really be as filthy as the scene I’m playing in my head?’ ‘Can DVP with a sex machine really live up to my horny dreams? The answer to both questions is ‘fuck yes’. The longer answer is below in the form of a hyper-explicit story about the first time we used our new sex machine, and there’ll be a part two story coming hot on its heels…

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Listen: someone needs to license Jenby’s work for a graphic novel about kinky adventures. There is already plenty of material, and it is funny and sexy and brilliant. If you have loads of money, go give it to @JenetalTorture to turn this into a book please. If you haven’t got loads of money, then you are welcome to simply enjoy today’s excellent guest post. After sharing a glorious account of her first e-stim session last week, Jenby is trotting back for a second week running to give you the lowdown on pony play.

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This post, by erotic author Tabitha Rayne, originally appeared on her website. 

I drag on the glove, still warm and moist from his sparring. It feels like a bad thing to do—as if I’m invading his privacy, sliding my hands up into an intimate space that belongs to him. Oh, the smell of worn leather and sweat. A shiver prickles from my nape to the backs of my thighs and my knees actually wobble.

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This foot fetish sex story, by sex blogger and podcaster Sherryl Blu, originally appeared on her website.

I’d sworn off Tinder,

Said I wouldn’t go back on after the last incident

Said it wasn’t worth my energy yet here I was, logged on and swiping away.

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When I was about twenty two, a friend of mine asked if I wanted to come to a fetish bar with her. This wouldn’t be a particularly unusual thing for someone to ask me, because I am a huge fan of both fetishes and bars. What made it odd, though, is that I’d never once had a conversation with her about kink. There were plenty of other people she knew better than she knew me, and we’d not once spoken about our own personal kinks. So how the fuck did she KNOW I was kinky?

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