This is the second in the wank-tales series, in which I tell you some of the stories that play in my head while I’m masturbating. This is perhaps the tamest, and also the hardest to capture, because of it’s utter simplicity. It has no characters, no plot. No position changes and no speech. No need for content warnings. Absolutely no fancy shit whatsoever. This one is literally all about the exact speed, sensation and… OK yeah… girth of the fuckstroke. That’s it! But my God, what a fuckstroke. Zoomed in and turned up to 11. This is not one stroke among many, carried by a fuckawesome plot and some gruesome perversions. This is the purest fuck I ever have in my mind’s eye. I’m also hoping that those of you who’ve never been penetrated enjoy this detailed description of why (and how) penetration in itself can be so utterly and gutturally satisfying – that very first stroke that gets your cunt stretched out is not only often the best bit of sex for me, it’s also often an entire wank fantasy in and of itself. Let’s talk about getting my cunt stretched.

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This is the first in a series I’m going to call ‘Wank tales’ – some of the stories I see in my head that get me off when I’m wanking. This one – Free use secretary (The interview) – has elements of free use, power imbalance, and I think some elements of non-consent. Not sure on that, though. I’m consenting to this scenario, because I created it, and none of these people are real – they’re just manifestations of my own perversions as they play out in my head. They’re not real human beings, they’re my fuckpuppets. Were this sort of thing to happen in real life I would be straight on the phone to HR. As explained in detail in last week’s post, I have a kink for misogyny. I get off on scenes and behaviour that I abhor in real life, so while this could make for a hot (consensual) role play, it should never be taken as an instruction manual, or a desire I would like to fulfil in any way other than as play. As I say, it’s hard to judge whether this needs a warning, so here’s a summary instead: this is a story about a dismissive boss interviewing a woman to be his secretary in which he aggressively fucks her like he’s using her holes while she has to continue with a job interview as normal. Dunno where that falls on the content note scale.

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Dirty little secret time, people: I have a kink for misogyny. An intense, horny, fucked-up passion for men who will treat me like shit. And before I delve into some of my more detailed treat-me-like-shit fantasies, I wanted to do some preamble to explain why this is only ever hot when I’m playing life on ‘sandbox’ mode. What’s horny in my mind and during roleplay is actively horrifying in real life. In case it wasn’t screamingly obvious: that’s why it gets me really wet.

Note that this post includes examples of violent misogyny, non-consent and rape – both the fantasy versions (hot!) and real-life ones (not!). 

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There’s an ache that I have not yet told you about On Here. It throbs beneath the surface of my every other need. I have no idea if it’s something I’m legitimately allowed to feel, or if publicly acknowledging it is silly and self-defeating. It isn’t something I can actively chase, and it will definitely scare a few men. But let’s have a go anyway: what I ache for is decades of sex. With the same person. I am up for being open, being polyamorous, whatever relationship structure best fits my own needs and his. But fundamentally, powerfully, deeply, I yearn for long-term intimacy. As my life marches on, I find myself growing colder and colder at the thought of sex with total strangers. These days I dream of a man who I can fuck for decades.

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In drama at school we used to play a warm-up game that involved cutting a deck of cards to determine each character’s status. We’d be given a scenario, let’s say person A is a teenager who’s broken a vase during a house party while their parents were away, and B and C are the parents returning home. If you just tell people to play what they think those characters should do, the scene will run in a fairly obvious way. Parents discover the accident, interrogate their kid about how the breakage happened, the child is suitably apologetic/nervous of the consequences, etc. However, if you have each person cut the deck of cards and replay the scene, this time assuming status and power depending on which card they got, things look very different. Let’s say the kid gets a Jack or a Queen, Mum gets a 9 and Dad picks a 2. Now the kid has the most power, and might end up berating their parents for owning something so expensive in the first place. Mum is the kid’s semi-obsequious sidekick, agreeing with him while occasionally sniping at Dad for not anticipating that this might happen before he booked their weekend away. Dad grovels before both of them, frantically trying to make amends for an accident that, in his low-status role, he’s entirely reframed as his fault. See what I mean? Status isn’t inherent to each character, it’s determined by the luck of the draw. And status, power and playfulness are all at the heart of my idea for a Blackadder Threesome. Here’s one for all the horny switches.

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