Every time Christmas rolls round, I feel terrible that I am unable to produce a saucy Santa story for your enjoyment. I’ve done a story about being unwrapped like a gift, a cute(ish) story about heading home for the holidays, and a Christmas gang bang, but nothing that features the King of Presents himself. I think I just struggle to get into a sexy Santa headspace. Luckily, this year, Tony has stepped in to bring a bit of festive magic, with a genderflipped Santa and an ethereal Christmas party shag…

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I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times someone’s removed my bra with dexterity and skill. It just doesn’t happen very often. There’s a reason for this: bra hooks are pretty tricky to handle! When I was younger I think I bought in to the propaganda that a guy who was ‘good in bed’ would be able to magically unhook my bra one-handed while we were making out, without any fumbling whatsoever. But that’s bollocks. Nowadays, I think that the hottest way to remove a bra isn’t to fumble with it, or even dispense a little quick-fingered wizardry. The sexiest and most efficient way to remove my bra is to just tell me to take it off.

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When we start to kiss, I’m on my tiptoes. Stretching up to meet his lips, soft and floaty and slightly off-balance. We exist in this tiny, horny bubble in his kitchen, surrounded by jangly tunes and the smell of something spiced for dinner. I’m on tiptoes when we start to kiss.

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I’m so delighted to welcome Valery North back to the blog today! Valery has guest blogged before, most recently writing a fantastic overview of rimming sex toys, and attempting to recreate the unique sensation of being rimmed. And recently, courtesy of my site sponsors Hot Octopuss, hae had the opportunity to try out the fucking amazing (and – as far as I know – completely unique) Hot Octopuss JETT. Valery’s written about this amazing ‘turbo drive for your cock’ in this fabulous post, and here hae’s going to extend the fun a little with a gorgeous piece of erotic fiction in which JETT is the star of the show. And frankly, as someone who can rarely resist someone writing about their aching cock and the ways they relieve that ache, I’m extremely grateful to Valery for dropping by…

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I’m not going to tell you about the first time I shagged this guy. I might in a later post, but not right now. By way of backstory, I’ll just explain that I’ve known him online for a while, and recently we ran into each other and fucked. It was extremely fun – so fun that we did it again the next day. I’m not going to tell you about that now, though, because after we’d finished round one, as his spunk was drying on my face, he asked “are you gonna write about me?” with such eager, puppydog energy that I thought it would be fun to make him wait. However, once I’d returned home (after washing my face, naturally), I did get the urge to write this. Publishing it might seem like a bold move for a woman who may never see this guy again, but fuck it: he has a kink that I’d dearly love to flesh out in my wank bank. If you’ve ever shagged a rich person hoping for a ride in their fancy car, you might understand a little of my motivation here: I really want a go on this guy’s kink. It’s the Porsche I’ve looked longingly at but never had a chance to properly drive. Something so gutpunch-wank-bank fascinating to me that I reckon its worth potentially embarrassing myself for. So instead of writing a true account of the first time we fucked, I’m gonna tell you what I’d do if I got the chance to hang out with him again. Here are some questions I’d love to ask of the man I have only fucked twice.

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