I told this story briefly, while at the festival last year: ‘I sucked a dick at Glastonbury’, I tweeted, with undertones of ‘achievement unlocked.’ The response was a combination of welcome high fives and entirely unwelcome shame: eww, blow jobs? At a festival?! I hope you used wet wipes first! Some people are so weird. But to each their own. I don’t tell sex stories without knowing that sometimes I’ll press people’s shame buttons. Some people’s instinct to say ‘eww’ when they hear that some random slag got facefucked in a field in Somerset is as natural as my instinct to brag about it in the first place. I sucked a dick at Glastonbury last year. And as I pack my bag for this year, I’ve decided now’s the time to tell that story.

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This wonderfully playful humiliation story is written and read beautifully by The Barefoot Sub, and originally appeared on her website. Note that this story contains bondage BDSM and gags – all used in a consensual way. 

It didn’t take much for her to feel off balance. He’d not bound her arms behind her back this time, but he had made her “comfortable” in the stiff posture collar and blindfold. Binding her voluptuous breasts in a tight harness. Her luscious nipples presented for the weighted clamps to be attached to. Occasionally he tugged these, his dark chuckle reverberating through her soul as muffled groans escaped her gagged lips.

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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.

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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…

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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.

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