Category Archives: Filthy ones
Sober sex: chasing the fuckrush
I start this fucking weird day (a day which I hope will contain at least some weird fucking) with two cups of coffee. And then a third, to be on the safe side. But you can’t get high on coffee… at least I can’t. I’m meeting this guy at eleven am, and we’re going to fuck in his hotel. At eleven. In the morning. I am stone cold fucking sober, and sober sex is a pretty new kink.
Throb: let me hold your twitching cock
He puts my hand up against his crotch, tells me ‘press here – not too hard’ and twitches his pelvic floor. His muscles flutter at my fingertips and in the palm of my hand, his dick jumps. Throbs. I press my hand tightly against him and stare. Openly. Impolitely. Greedily. I look down his body, see my own hand cupping his cock, and feel the pulsing throb as he works those muscles.
Ways to cum at the end of a wank (ranked by hotness)
Hi, sorry, excuse me, yeah sorry to bother you. It’s just I’ve been thinking quite a lot lately about all the different ways to cum at the end of a wank, and I thought/hoped you might be interested in this list. I have ranked all the possible spaff-styles in order of how hot they are for me to see/imagine. Before I begin, it’s important to note that every single one of these methods is hot: the baseline here is not ‘not hot’, the baseline is ‘let me watch you do it and my cunt will gush,’ but for what it’s worth, here they are in order.
(more…)I don’t know this man, but here’s what he can do to me
There’s a guy who pops up occasionally in celebrity gossip articles, or tweets, or various pop culture ephemera in which I have only a passing interest. I have absolutely no idea who he is. However, I do know that he wears extremely tight trousers, has piercings and tattoos that have sunk hooks into my very soul, and lips that I would fight wars to have wrapped round my nipples. So. I don’t know this man from Adam, but here’s what he can do to me.
Gamble: low expectations, high reward
It’s a huge gamble, both of us know that, so we’re careful to tiptoe gently around the implications. I haven’t seen this guy in many many years, and he lives far enough away that we can’t just catch up over a drink. A visit? For three nights? It’s a huge gamble. But he asks me at exactly the right point – says ‘shall I come and stay for a bit?’ when I’m feeling brave and horny. So I bury the doubts, keep my expectations low, embrace the knowledge that life is far more fun if you gamble sometimes and tell him ‘fuck it, yes.’