Tag Archives: illustrated

The grind: Dominant facesitting

This gorgeous piece about dominant facesitting is written by Spencer Pritchard and read by Stephen Carling. 

I’m usually the fuck-er, not the fuckee. Generally speaking, I set the pace of our fucking. Of the strokes of my dick with my hips, egged on by your whimpers and moans, emboldened by your body reacting to mine. I like to be ‘in charge’. To have a handful of your hair as you swallow the tip of my stiff cock, guiding your rhythm and occasionally holding you in place whilst I tell how how much of a good girl you’re being. To hold your wrists behind your back, your face buried in the tangled sheets as I slowly push myself past your glistening folds. To wrap the fingers of one hand around your slender neck as I furiously fuck you with the other, splashing us both with your gushing lust as the pressure builds behind your eyes.

It’s not often that I get to be fucked.

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3 of my hot bald boyfriend’s best angles

As with literally any blog post that discusses physical beauty, this piece is going to come with an important note: what I am about to do is fetishise/objectify/admire/wax lyrical about one particular physical feature, but understand that you do not need to have this feature in order to be beautiful. You can be beautiful with whatever you’ve got, there is no one correct way to be visually stunning, and I have dated many gorgeous people who do not happen to share the characteristic I am about to so thoroughly cream my knickers over. In short: not everyone is bald, and that is OK. But my boyfriend happens to be, and there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t cast my eyes towards the heaven I’m pretty sure does not exist, to thank a God I definitely don’t believe in for sending me a hot bald guy. I can (and assuredly WILL) write essays later about the joy of dating a hot bald guy from a tactile perspective, but for now I’m taking a rare turn into the visual. Here are my hot bald boyfriend’s three best angles, thank you so much for asking.

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You should have mirrors in your bedroom

I always say I’m not much of a visual person, and I’m not. But every now and then an image sticks with me, and usually it’s because the bedroom in which we’re fucking has a well-placed mirror or two. I don’t have nearly enough mirrors in my bedroom at the moment – a situation I am keen to rectify as soon as my budget allows (so sometime around 2025, most likely). In the short term, though, please enjoy this trilogy of fuck stories from the past which hopefully will show you why – if you enjoy catching glimpses of you/your partners looking at your absolute fuckiest – you should have mirrors in your bedroom too.

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Hey hey I love you: Frankenstein erotica

It’s usually pretty hard to content note Halloween erotica. It’s fun to give myself the challenge of writing something dark and horror-focused at this time of year, and I like ’em gruesome. If you’re also into macabre sex stories you might enjoy the following, but if you don’t want to read about people fucking reanimated corpses, you should probably give it a miss. 

I wake up screaming. No idea why, but I wake up screaming. Just absolute, cold-blooded, throat-ripping screams. Christ. Fuck. I can’t understand it. It takes him a couple of minutes to calm me. Stroking me with gentle hands and crooning ‘ssssh’ into my ear.

I try to sit up. Can’t.

Try to move my hands. Can’t.

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You know those nights

You know those nights you have, in bed with someone new and exciting… those nights when you feel like you’re… hmm. Sorry, I’ll start again. So you know those nights at the start of a relationship, just after you realise how much you want this to be a relationship… those nights when you’re f… fuck. Hang on. Let me try a different tack.

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