I dipped into Twitter occasionally when I was on leave last month, and one of the things I spotted was a tweet that made me riotously horny. It was from @19syllables, one of my favourite people on Twitter (her feed is so full of joy and beauty, I love her). She tweeted “Kiss chase, but you and me in a forest and if you catch me you can take me.” It gave me all the soft-yet-powerful horny feelings. So I wrote this.

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This fabulous first date hookup story is by Robyn of RobynEatsEverything, and is read here by Girl on the Net. 

The pub was closing early. The two members of staff were busying themselves behind the bar and every glance in our direction was a plea for us to leave so they could go home. You told me you didn’t want the night to end here; there’d been laughter and anticipatory touches and plenty of eye-fucking across the table as I suggestively sipped my drink through a straw. As a first date, it was perfect. We reluctantly untangled our hands from each others’ across the table and said our goodbyes to the bar.

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This fabulous erotic fiction piece about romantic outdoor sex is written by Spencer Pritchard, and read aloud by Luke. 

Your train pulls up to the platform and those butterflies in your stomach, subdued by the inevitable delays, suddenly leap back in to life and begin their merry dance again. Will I be on the platform, waiting with a crass sign in hand, your pseudonym bold black tarnishing the virginity of the white card it’s printed on? Will I be sat outside in a hire car, listening to the radio and only notice you stood there after 5 long minutes? Will I have got tired of waiting for the late train to arrive and headed to the small lochside bungalow alone, leaving you to make your own way, each one of the thousands of butterflies slowly dying as the seconds pass on the long journey?

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Every now and then, I do improv erotica with Patreons. During our occasional Zoom hangouts, they give me prompts for sexy stories which I take away and try to turn into filth. The following orgasm denial fiction is one of these stories, and if you fancy joining in and offering me some prompts of your own, join me on Patreon! Right now you can vote for the date of our next hangout, where we chill together on Zoom and you can ask me questions, make suggestions for future erotica, and hear me read as-yet-unpublished stories while I get slowly drunk on wine. In the meantime: here’s some filth my Patreons and I made earlier!

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This fabulous piece about anticipation, and flirting when you can’t fuck, is written by Quinn Rhodes of OnQueerStreet. It is read aloud here by Matt Johnson. Content note for dick-focussed smut. Quinn would also like to acknowledge the irony of writing a piece yearning for this kind of sex when COVID means that many people are limited to no-contact lusting.

Right now, I feel disconnected from my body. It’s partly lockdown and partly my depression, but I find it hard to remember that sex feels good until I’m literally pushing a vibrator against my junk. In theory I know that I like being touched and I like sucking dick, but in reality my arousal feels clinical and detached. It feels like my body has forgotten how to be so horny that I can’t think about anything but sex, and I miss it. I miss the overwhelming desire and anticipation I used to feel before a fuck.

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