Tag Archives: oral
Sun n sand – oral fantasies on the beach
This fabulous story about oral fantasies on the beach was written by Cal (@uncmfrtblynmb) and originally appeared on his Medium blog. It is read here by Girl on the Net.
Between the deserted dunes I lay, looking out into the sunset. My skin had taken on new bronze tones after a whole day out at the beach. The bright golden light danced on the shimmering water, so I closed my eyes for some respite.
Thinking – fantasies about you
These fantasies about you come from the talented, dirty mind of Ferns, and originally appeared on her website Domme Chronicles.
Thinking…
About masturbating
Thinking about you, and thinking about masturbating
Thinking about you, spread-eagle, restrained and blindfolded
Face up, on a bed
Heels – You wanna swallow some cum now?
This gorgeous story is written by Nooky and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net.
You’re supposed to meet at the elevators at 6.30 — drinks and supper and then, after, the train back to his place, your first time sleeping there. You’ve fucked at yours, a couple times, once in a hotel. A blowjob in the park, behind a fenced-off carousal. The pre-date quickie on his couch last week when you’d picked him up. But this is the first time really going to his.
Love rain o’er me – Outdoor orgasms
This gorgeous femdom story featuring outdoor orgasms and whipping, was written by Cal (@uncmfrtblynmb) and originally appeared on his Medium blog. It is read here by rmp792.
She took her time positioning me just right in the little hollow. With springtime making an earlier than usual appearance, we’d had some balmy weather recently, and celebrated it like we usually did by spending some time up in the mountains.
The lodger – “You filthy little tart”
This gleefully filthy erotic fiction is written by Kate, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net.
There’s four of us at the breakfast table – the father, the son, the mother and me. Well, I say four, it’s three – the father, the son and me – the mother is making breakfast like a dutiful housewife and the son gets packed off to school sharpish, leaving the father and the mother and me. His and hers dressing gowns. She balked at my ill-fitting t shirt from some summer festival in ’75. I was a child, then. She didn’t know me, then. Whoever bought this t shirt bought it for a boyfriend or lover who turned out rotten so to the thrift shop it went and I scooped it up and sleep in it, after a boil wash.