OK so hear me out: ten condom fucks. Fucks which require a large number of condoms. Fucks which start at about 2pm, are interspersed with drinks and chatting and playing Beat Saber and slow-dancing sexily in the middle of the living room. Fucks which ebb and flow between oral, penetration, and naked touching, meaning each time you decide you’re gonna get down to it, you slip on a new condom. Fucks which mean you have to scatter condoms throughout the apartment so there’s always one easily to hand. Ten condom fucks.

(more…)

It’s everything I hate in a sofa, this thing: brown; leather; thin metal legs; angular armrests that you can’t properly lean against and a seat that’s too narrow for spooning. I hate this sofa so much that when my ex and I hung out together, I used to sit on the floor. Give me well-worn carpet and a numb bum over sticky brown leather any day of the week. I hate this sofa for every single thing… except fucking. This sofa features in almost every filthy post I’ve written on this blog in the last four years. This sofa launched a thousand fucks.

(more…)

“I don’t really do phone sex,” I say to him, as I shuffle across the bedroom with my trousers partway down, reaching for a dildo and my Zumio. He replies “yeah, I know,” and in the background I can hear him beating away at his cock.

(more…)

I want you to ruin my life. Take the weak, thumping jelly of my heart and just… fucking… eat it. Yank it out of my body and hold it high in both your hands and laugh as you sink in your teeth. I want you to ruin my life.

(more…)

It is very very rare for me to stumble across weird sex that I haven’t already fantasised about, or seen elsewhere in porn, and as a result it took me a good long time to work out how to put this story down in words. 

(more…)