Tag Archives: music

Of whiskey, guitars and sex in cargo holds

This gorgeous story about fucking a hot guitarist is written and read by Carolyna Luna, and originally appeared on her website. 

Ah, Blondie’s! I fucking loved that place. I always arrived before ten to snag a prime spot at the bar. It was the best vantage point to enjoy the local bands that frequently played there. It was also where Sheila, the bartender, liked to lean whenever she could sneak in a break to offer naughty banter. That night was no different.


Guest blog: Birthday sex to Harry’s House

I was introduced to today’s guest blogger, Clara (@author_dunn on Twitter) by another incredible writer, who popped up in my DMs singing the praises of Clara’s cunt-dripping filth. And they were right: her filth is absolutely glorious, I adore it. There’s a softness to the feelings that surround the intensity and directness of the actual fucking, and that kind of writing presses so many of my buttons. I loved it so much I have another piece from Clara coming up in a few weeks too. For now, enjoy this delicious story about birthday sex, Harry Styles and soundtracks to (not) fall in love to…


Solid Gold: I found some fucky music, and also myself

As a general rule I never have enough confidence in my own music taste to recommend what I like to other people. Most of my partners have preferred me to uncritically subsume their own playlists rather than contribute suggestions of my own: they rarely ever let me pick the music. As a result, not only am I suffused with a vague sense of embarrassment when talking about music, I have rarely spent much time actively seeking out new bands. But recently I found a band who make my heart swell with joy, and their latest album gave me powerfully horny ideas. I hope they will forgive me for taking this to such an X-rated place, but I’m gonna talk about Solid Gold by Holy Moly & The Crackers: the fuckiest album I have heard in a very long time.


Backstage girl: used after the gig

This delicious fantasy about being the ‘backstage girl’ is written and read by the fabulous Barefoot Sub, and originally appeared on her website. 

There I was, outside the door that would take me to him. I had dreamt about this moment since he first came into my life, since the first time I was allowed to see him, albeit a photograph. Though the fantasy that I knew would never be brought to reality had been deep-rooted since my teens, being invited to one of his gigs was almost as good. I could stand in the crowd, listen to him play, watch his fingers dance over the frets knowing exactly what those fingers could do. I would mirror those fingers as I followed my instructions, to edge myself during the course of his set. I wasn’t allowed to orgasm, but he wanted to be able to find my eyes and see my heat through the crowd.


“Babe, they’re playing our song”

Picture the scene: it’s late December in the year 1998. You’re a thirteen year old girl. You wear glasses and have extremely greasy hair, you wear your school uniform exactly as dictated by the rules, and you’re good at Maths and Science. Ergo: you fucking suck. Everyone hates you and no boy will ever snog you, no matter how much Impulse body spray you cover yourself in. Against this backdrop, you are in love with your very best friend – a boy who has the voice of a genuine angel. It’s the school Christmas Talent Show, and this boy – the one you think about to make your crotch give you those New Special Feelings – takes the stage. He stands at the microphone and clears his throat. The first few chords of a song you recognise start blaring through the assembly-hall speakers, and your soul soars in anticipation. Then he opens his perfect perfect mouth, this sexy boy, and with a breath that carries straight into the depths of your miserable, bullied soul, he sings the following words…