One of my favourite kinds of guest blog is when somebody drops by to educate me about a type of sex that I know almost nothing about. So today’s gorgeous intro to ecosexuality, by Aaron El Sabrout (@toreachpoise on Insta and @sayyid_qishta on Mastodon), is exactly my cup of dandelion tea. Aaron is a writer, illustrator and ecosexual who is here to talk about being into fucking plants. Huge thanks to him for this beautiful overview of what ecosexuality is, the appeal of getting sexual with nature, and his thoughts on consent when it comes to plant-fucking.

Note that this piece contains depictions of literal plant-fucking, and I am not an expert in what is safe here. This is Aaron’s story, it is not advice and shouldn’t be treated as such. Plus, note that Aaron is a trans guy who is pretty comfortable with his genitals and will be using the terminology he normally uses to refer to his parts. You should not assume that all people with similar parts use the same terminology for them!

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Regular readers will know that I’m a big fan of cuckolding as a kink. Something about the combination of tortured emotions and intense fucks, the fact that emotional connection can be twisted into something much darker and more taboo… unngh, yeah. So inevitably I was delighted to find a cuck who was not only willing to chat about his kink, but explain in delicious and excruciating detail exactly what’s so hot about getting cucked. Take it away…

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The sad thing happens on Monday morning. But there were lots of sad things that laid the path to it, so perhaps it’s not surprising that initially I’m just a bit numb. All day I’m braced for the waves of despair to crash. I sit at my desk. I work. I write. Edit some audio porn, upload a bit to Patreon, and wait and wait and wait for the misery to hit.

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When I tell my sister this story, she snort-laughs and tells me ‘we really need to do something about the low expectations you have of men.’ I’m front-loading this because I suspect that’s what the man involved might say himself. He used to be quite baffled by how pleased I was when he did little thoughtful things, as if little thoughtful things aren’t worthy of note. As if kindness is incidental, instead of – you know – everything.

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I remember very vividly the first sexy daydream I had about a boy. I felt myself growing hot and tense inside before experiencing a release of arousal as the daydream came to climax. Not a real climax, sadly I’ve never had the ability to make myself come just by thinking about the right thing. But the right thoughts can trigger something intense, and this was the first time I’d experienced that intensity: the instant, shocking realisation that my mind could make my body do this thing, purely through the power of imagination. It was way more graphic than the purely cerebral lust I’d felt for guys in the past. When I talk about this feeling on the blog, I often refer to it as that ‘kick in the gut’ of lust. Or the unngh moment. Some fantasies might press a few buttons in your mind, sparking ideas and feelings that you want to follow up later, but these particular sexy dreams and daydreams are on another level: they kick me in the gut. Give me that unngh.

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