I absolutely adore guest posts about specific kinks and fetishes – I love hearing what it is about a particular object, character or tone that turns someone on. The more niche it is, the better, as I can delve into the intricacies of what makes a particular thing hot, and find correlations with what turns me on too. So I’m delighted to welcome Harley – @hypno_harlequin on Twitter – to talk about her clown kink. What is it about clowning that appeals? And why does Harley think you could benefit from embracing your inner clown occasionally…?
He could choose his own underwear, so long as it was lingerie. Today he hesitated as his hands began to tug at his trousers…
Remember those urban legends about parents who’d find cigarettes in their teenagers’ bedrooms and force them to smoke an entire packet to put themselves off forever? That’s how I feel about dick pics. I’ve seen so many of them that even the most beautiful dick, framed and shot by the world’s greatest photographer, does little for me now unless it’s attached to someone I already have a raging crush on. But recently someone sent me a different type of picture, far better than a dick pic. So hot that opening the file felt like a punch in the cunt.
This gorgeous femdom love letter was written by Floss Liddell, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net.
My Dearest Fucktoy: you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever had the privilege to love. But, that does not earn you the right to any secrets.
This sublime erotic short story about desire and ink on skin, is by Tabitha Rayne. It first appeared on her website and is read here by the author herself.
I’ve just hitched up my skirt. I’m kneeling and the hem is at my buttocks, almost exposing them, but not quite. The familiar tingling anticipation sweeps over my flesh as I part my thighs, just a little, and lift one of the implements laid out before me. I always start with the smallest – the finest.
I hold my breath and close my eyes letting my head fall back, jaw slack, in the pose that signifies the beginning of my ritual.