Tag Archives: stories
That face fucking look
There’s a look that says ‘I want to do this so badly.’ It’s similar to the look that says ‘I’m going to do this.’ The expression that says both ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ at the same time.
It usually comes from above.
I’m on my knees, or – as is the case in this story – lying on the sofa. Tired and horny and lazy and just that bit too Sunday-night-knackered to move. And he gets the look.
It’s straight-faced. Dark. A shadowy playfulness just behind it, but no hint of an actual smile. He stares directly at me, saying nothing. I look up, eyes wide with anticipation. Sometimes I’ll ask ‘what do you want?’ but far more often, I don’t. Because I know exactly what he wants: he wants to pull out his thick, warm cock, and fuck… well, not me specifically, but something. Anything.
Guest blog: A hot first time sex story by Gloria Brame
This week’s guest blogger is Dr Gloria Brame, and she’s got a smoking hot sex story to share. Gloria is a clinical sex therapist, a leader in radical sex theory and education, and she founded the world’s first online BDSM support group. She’s best known for her books Different Loving and The Truth About Sex, which promote evidence-based, pro-diversity perspectives on human sexuality.
Here, though, she’s sharing something raw and hot and personal, which relates to a sex story in her latest book – A Fetish for Men (Amazon US link).
Fucking in secret, fucking in the dark
We’re grown-ups now: it’s not the done thing. You can’t fuck in a crowded room at a sleepover and expect to get away with it. We have more fun, don’t we? Those group sex parties and swingers’ clubs and all the places we can legitimately fuck in the open? Except we don’t, not always. And sometimes the delight of having secret sex in the dark is overlooked in favour of open sex with an audience.
I used to do this a lot. When I was young, I mean – not now. Now we have money for hotels, and big houses, and far far fewer friends. And – what’s that other thing? – oh yeah, restraint. There’s little need now to pack horny couples into a living room and hope their sex doesn’t jog the couple shagging on the pillows next to them.
That’s either a shame or a blessing. If you think it’s the latter, then please don’t read on.
Sex stories, lies and memory
When you tell someone a story, how much of it is true? Every detail? Probably not. Whenever you tell someone something that actually happened, there’ll be elements of it that you remember perfectly, and other elements that you don’t. You’ll perhaps gloss over some of the awkward details, or play them up to comic effect, or tell a story in a context which doesn’t fully explain the whys as well as the whats.
And so it is with sex stories.
During an email interview the other day, someone asked me how much of what I write is true. My initial, kneejerk response was: all of it. And that’s the simplest answer. Everything I write here – unless it’s specifically marked as a fantasy or bucket list shag – actually happened. But to say it like that is to gloss over what actually happens when you write up a sex story – whether it’s a relationship you had ten years ago, or a quickie you had last night.
Fucking interrupted
From casual conversations held with friends in darkened rooms, while they don’t realise that I’ve got a guy’s dick tight inside me, to moments when people walk in while we’re fucking. That split second where they stand and stare and can’t work out how to extract themselves if the ground resolutely refuses to swallow them. I was going to write about that stuff this week. It was going to be light-hearted and fun and a bit hot. Then, as I was collating anecdotes and remembering past fucks that fit the bill, I stumbled upon a sex story I’ve never written up – a brief encounter so horny that I couldn’t let it go. While sex interruptions are frustrating at the time, I doubt this brief fuck would have burned so clearly in my mind unless we’d been disturbed partway through, adding a heart-thumping fear and greater urgency to everything.
I might still write about sex interruptions in general, but for now you can have this: the filthy sex story that’s sat in my head for the last four days and won’t stop bugging me until I’ve relived it properly. Some things are just like that, you know? Well, you’ll see.