This gorgeous story about sex and sweat is written and read by Robyn of RobynEatsEverything. Note: this is a work of fiction and a fantasy scenario; please don’t approach Robyn in the gym.

As I lift my arms up above my head, I feel a stream of cool sweat trickling down the nape of my neck, finding a cleft in my skin in which to swim lower between my shoulder blades, the small of my back, and into the gape of my leggings to the valley between my cheeks. The dampness of my skin would suggest the aircon in the gym isn’t working today; there’s no frigid breeze relieving my cherry-red cheeks. Working through this set, I’m more aware of other little streams crawling down my body and pooling in the most uncomfortable places; under my tits, my arse, under my belly, between my thighs.

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There are two things I adore about today’s guest blog. Firstly its celebration of something that is so often shamed. I’m a sucker for a change in narrative, especially one which helps to brush aside societal norms that can be harmful and irritating. I’ve always found hairy armpits wildly sexy – watching a hot guy lie back in bed with his hands behind his head makes me want to do feral, torrid things with his body. But I always struggled to find pit hair sexy on myself, until I stopped shaving back in 2020 and never looked back. The second thing I love about this guest blog is the way it captures something I’ve tried to articulate myself, but never so clearly: the way that desire can mould and shape itself to the things in your life at this moment. Your partner’s quirks and mannerisms. Their specific body, and how it changes over time. This post is an ode to hairy armpits, but I think it’s also a love letter to this kind of desire. And I adore it.

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This delicious story about asking to get fucked with knickers on is written and read by the fabulous Molly Moore, and originally appeared on her website. 

“Stop” he says. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my knickers off,” I reply over my shoulder.

“Well don’t,” he responds and I can hear the slight husk in his throat that tells me he means it. I stop what I am doing. Straightening the lace back over my hips and bum, I then turn to face him.

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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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This fabulous erotic vignette is written and read by Robyn of RobynEatsEverything.

All I want for my birthday is a fat load of your cum to ice my face like a cake.

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