All Posts – Page 58
Guest blog: Fucked bent over the desk
The vast majority of my own wank fantasies feature someone getting bent over something. The arm of a sofa, a spanking bench and – of course – bent over the desk. The desk is one of the sexiest bits of furniture, in my opinion, far hotter than a bed or a sofa. Rendered even hotter if that desk happens to be one in your office, where workplace fucking is technically forbidden. If you feel the same, you’ll absolutely love the latest post from @ht_honey (whose blog you can find at Happy Come Lucky, plus read her fabulous guest blogs on sub drop and giggling in kink here!), where she tells us in delicious detail about a hot office fuck bent over the desk…
Where does foreplay end? When does sex begin?
Yesterday I asked Twitter to give me a hand with blog topics – I have a few drafts but none are quite ready, and I was in a bit of a funk and feeling meh about writing in general. Not only did they come through in a powerfully brilliant way, with tonnes of questions that I may well tackle later, but one question in particular leapt out at me and begged for a longform answer. So with apologies to those of you who asked ones I have not answered (I’ll try, I promise), today I’m going to have a crack at this one from Quinn Rhodes: where does foreplay end and sex begin?
Fight me for it
I ask: “please will you hurt me?” and he stares down into my face. In contrast to my own childish eagerness, I always find this particular guy disarmingly grown-up. When I ask him to hurt me he replies, simply: “How?”. It’s not confusion, it’s a flex. He knows there are many ways to hurt me, and this feels like a way to neatly work in consent – giving me the task of articulating my desires aloud. In the moment I can’t work out how – my mind is just a blur of want. For him specifically. His strong arms, powerful muscles. The dominant way he carries himself. Combined, these attributes give a tall woman like me that precious, rare feeling of being outgunned. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “Just… fight me for it.”
Note: this post involves a super hot fuck that hinges on consensual non-consent, i.e. me pretending I don’t want to get fucked when actually I really do. The man who features in it knows this, and would not play this way with me unless he was confident I could (and would) withdraw consent if it all got too much. This post is not a ‘how-to’ manual on kinky fucking, there’s a lot of background chat behind this kind of sex.
Guest blog: My disabled body’s ‘what the fuck’ moments
Sex is rarely ever predictable, especially with a new partner. Although we’re taught that there are certain ‘scripts’ that we should follow when it comes to sex, there are many different factors that make those scripts useless or sometimes even harmful. The individual quirks of our own bodies are definitely key factors here! So I’m excited to welcome Anna (@AnnaDdottir) to the guest blog slot today, with a fabulous and funny piece on the ‘what the fuck’ moments that her disabled body sometimes throws into the mix. Enjoy the guest blog, and check out Anna’s blog here!
No words, just cocksucking: vanilla tastes good
A few days before we’re due to hang out, he texts me a fantasy. Couched in the standard consent-focused caveats (“Only if that sounds hot to you…”) that I find extremely cute – they function essentially as the ‘no worries if not!’ of fucking. His request is neat, specific, and very easy to achieve: he wants to arrive at my place, have me greet him at the door with no words whatsoever, then as soon as he’s inside, drop to my knees and start sucking his dick. No words, just cocksucking.