Continuing my gleeful excitement for blog posts about ‘first times’, I am over the moon to introduce Scarlet Rose, who is here with a gorgeously descriptive piece that goes in-depth into spectacular physical sensations. As an unapologetic enabler when it comes to sex writing, I always love it when people pitch me and say ‘I am testing the water to see if I might fancy sharing more of my sexy stories’, so please do share this and comment if you feel the same way I do: the world needs more of Scarlet’s beautiful words! Kicking off with a beautifully sensual, intense guest blog about masturbation, check out Scarlet’s account of her first orgasm with a neo vagina.

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I often get asked if writing turns me on, or how often/whether I wank when I’m composing something. The answer is ‘sometimes’ – honestly, most of the time, if it’s a story I’m retelling that involves an especially hot real-life fuck or a fantasy I’ve nurtured for a while. But this week’s guest blogger has a far more vivid and delicious answer to that question. Please welcome RalpH_himself (who you can find here on Mastodon or Fetlife) who’s here to show you what the sweet agony of writing erotica is like…

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This gorgeous story about hot group sex under the mistletoe is written and read by the fabulous Sherryl Blu. 

I’ve been with my guy for almost 8 years now and things are great. We have a remarkable life, we do a lot of things together, rarely argue and have amazing sex.

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This glorious story about being used as a set of fuck-holes is written and read by the fabulous Sundial, and originally appeared on her website. 

And here I am, a nearly naked shackled X bent at the middle. The lower part of the X is formed by my gorgeous new spreader bar. My ankles are wrapped in the supple leather that are its cuffs, unable to move. My torso is laid face down on the table. My arms are stretched out, tits squashed under me. My wrists are secured in leather shackles which you (rather ingeniously) attached with belts to the legs at the far end of table, forming the upper part of the X. There is no give at all, I cannot move.

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This gorgeously filthy story about being a needy bitch is written and read by Molly of MollysDailyKiss.

“Needy bitch,” he croons at me. I pout in response but the truth is he is right. I am needy… or at least my cunt is.

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