Tag Archives: illustrated

Headboards and rails: the best bed for sex
Oh happy day! I have acquired the greatest thing! It is amazing and sexy and it lives in my house now, and never again shall I forget how much it means to me! After a suspiciously successful visit to Ikea I now have the best bed for sex – a metal framed one with a headboard – that I can hook my toes behind while I get vigorously fucked.

Sexplorers: The journey to distant fucklands
Some kinks my partner and I do because they come naturally to us – all we need is to hear about them, see them in porn, or get flashes of them in our minds when we’re wanking ourselves to sleep at night, and our guts lurch with a desire that screams “Yes! This one’s for us!” But there are others that take time to consider, or to practise, or to fully understand. To shamelessly paraphrase Kennedy: some kinks we choose to do not because they are easy, but because they are hard.

I wanna fuck the band
It’s the way his forearm looks when he strums the guitar – highlighted beautifully with tattoos and framed by a tight t-shirt. Or perhaps it’s the thump of the bassline in my crotch or the scent of sweaty people throwing down in the mosh pit. Maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in what feels like a lifetime I am dancing like I don’t care how to dance. Either way I know that when the music starts to play, I’ll be thinking that I wanna fuck the band.

Grief fuck: We had fun, the three of us
This post is part of a series of emotional fucks – I asked people on Twitter to give me different atmospheres/types of fuck and then used each as the basis for some erotic fiction. I’ve done revenge fuck, spite fuck and principle fuck, this one’s about a grief fuck. Two people try to conjure the fun they had with a friend before he died.

Bucket list sex: something hot we really need to do
We’re chatting about fucking, and all the bucket list sex we’d like to have. Recently we’ve been trying to plan more kinky sex, so this sort of stuff is occupying our thoughts, but it’s hard to think of anything enticing yet possible: we’re pretty good at ticking new sordid kinks off the second they cross our filthy minds, so most of the fucking we want to do has already been done. I ponder the issue for a while before suddenly it hits me. There’s one really significant thing that I’ve never done with this particular guy: break up.