One of the things I like to do of an evening is stick on a horny album and daydream for a while about my next set-piece fuck. By ‘set-piece’ fuck I mean something a little bit extra, not the standard ‘make out and bang’ that I’ll leap into on impulse. These might feature a new act I’ve not yet tried with this person (or at all), or something like special equipment, clothes or preparation. Sometimes it’s just a specific tone I want to play with: brattiness; begging; anticipation… you get the idea. I sit on the sofa getting high and listening to sexy music, daydreaming about a few recent hits from the bedroom, or mull over breadcrumbs that my partner might have casually dropped into conversation when hinting at what they might like, then see if I can come up with something that presses buttons for both of us. Now feels as good a time as any to talk about set-piece fucks, because I recently became single so I won’t be able to do them again for a really long time. Talking about the pleasure I get from doing this sort of thing gives me the chance to shoehorn in a topic I’ve wanted to discuss for a while: what monogamy means to me.

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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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I am so delighted to welcome Dissembling Cub back to the blog. Their last piece, on bottom euphoria, was absolutely spectacular and deeply horny. This new post – about birching, the history of it as well as a stunningly hot account of a birching scene – took my breath away so hard it was almost like I was the one being thrashed. If you enjoy DC’s work you should also check out their fabulous long-form story The Forthenby Inheritance: an erotic comedy of manners set in the Regency period. Meanwhile please, oh my God please, enjoy the fuck out of this stunning guest blog. The image that illustrates this piece, by the way, is the actual hazel birch from the story.

Note: this story contains references to birching as corporal punishment – in a historical (non-consensual) context as well as a modern (and consensually kinky) one. It also refers to a ‘schoolboy scene’ and school role play, but all participants are over the age of 18. 

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You can feel your lover’s pulse with one finger. You know this, of course, but I bet you don’t think about it often. I thought about it the other day and the force of it hit me like a punch in the chest. You can feel the thud of their blood running through their body, keeping them alive. The heartbeat that powers the person who makes you quiver with need. The one you want to bury your nose, your face, your fucking life in… you can feel your lover’s pulse with a single finger. Isn’t that awesome?

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