I used to go to play parties which were ‘BDSM only.’ You could spank, whip and beat each other to oblivion, but you weren’t allowed to fuck on the furniture. Perhaps that’s where this wank fantasy comes from: the idea that fucking is forbidden only makes me want to fuck more. I mean… obviously.

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This week’s guest author lives on a narrowboat, and is writing about fucking on a narrowboat. Because there isn’t easy access to a computer, Sara drafted this post in an email and sent it on to me for editing. I couldn’t bear to edit too much of it, because I think the breathless, raw tone adds a lot to the eroticism of the writing. The confined space, the eagerness to fuck, and the pure and simple pleasure of the experience. Enjoy!

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“Yes. Fuck. That’s it. That’s good. Your dick feels so fucking good in me right now. Pull out when you come, though: I want to watch your jizz squirt all over me.”

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Although I’m very pleased with my vagina, I do wish someone had told me, when I was young, just how much of my life I’d spend worrying about all the stuff that happened to drip out of it. Not that I resent the dripping exactly, it’s just I never anticipated there’d be so much of it. And that thanks to irregular periods and other vaginal surprises, it’s entirely unpredictable.

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Let me envelop your dick. Submerge it inside me, like I’m slipping you into a warm bath. When I look at you, this is all I want: everything else would be too active on your part. I need to fuck you like I need to stroke your brow with a cool cloth, and whisper soothing words into your ear.

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