Tag Archives: oral
The King’s Cock – a shameless medieval cock-fest
This shameless medieval cock-fest is written and read by Ariadne Awakes. Note: this story is a fantasy that contains kidnapping and implied non-consent.
“Suck.” The countless times she’d been issued this command and it still sent glorious shivers straight to her constantly aching cunt. It was the time of year the court had nicknamed ‘The Grand Suck’, where the King’s most worthy subjects had the privilege of watching their wives, daughters and sometimes mothers kneel before him and show obedience to the sceptre with which he ruled. His cock.
Blow jobs that end with them coming in my mouth
This gorgeous ode to blow jobs is written by Quinn Rhodes of OnQueerStreet, and read here by Matt Johnson.
I love sucking dick – and love it with a passion that might make me feel like a bad feminist or queer if agency is not very feminist and if dicks could not be very queer. Some memorable blow jobs in the twelve months have involved my partner coming in my mouth, a circumstance that is often a delicious assertion of dominance.
Sometimes I like to suck cock as self-care
When I’m feeling shitty, I like to suck cock. One of the most frustrating things for me about not having a live-in partner any more (if you discount the fact that, you know, I miss him terribly) is that there’s no easy-access dick to suck when I’m feeling unloveable and down.
Guest blog: Adrenaline, squirting and hot après-ski
I don’t know why I feel it’s important to tell you this is a true story. Perhaps because I find things even hotter if they’re true. Perhaps because I like to dream that I, one day, might be rescued by a hot dude and then seduced so skilfully he has me laid flat and breathless with lust somewhere. Either way, this is a true story by Leda Marshall about an extremely hot après-ski experience, and it had me weak with horn. Enjoy!
Gangbanged – he fulfils her cock-hungry fantasy
This fabulous story about getting gangbanged is written and read by Ariadne Awakes. Note: everything that happens to the narrator is pre-planned and entirely consensual.
Each time I hear another pair of footsteps entering wherever it is that he’s handcuffed me, my heart skips another beat and my clit throbs. They don’t speak, but I can feel the air charged with their need, their smell, their lust.