Where was I? Oh yes: in the centre of a circle of eager, horny men, taking part in a competitive gang bang. My ass is lubed up with the spunk of the first guy who fucked me, and I’m catching my breath before round two.

This is the second in a two-part story. Read the first part – competition – then pop back here for the finale. 

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Brace yourself: I think this might be the most narcissistic, self-centered wank fantasy I’ve ever had. But seeing as it’s given me so many excellent afternoon distractions, I thought I’d share it with you. It involves a gang bang, a competition, and a hell of a lot of struggle-fucking.

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Of course I fucking want to fuck you. I want to push you down onto the carpet and squat over you with my feet planted firmly on the hard floor, easing myself down onto your dick while you try desperately to hold back from thrusting upwards. I want to put both my hands on your chest to steady myself, and look into your eyes as they widen when you feel your cock sliding in. I want all of this and more, just give me five minutes.

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This story was written after someone asked me about making guys come in their pants. I’d tweeted about it recently, and they were curious as to how someone could make this happen. I think my answer is that it’s all in the preparation and build-up. So I wanted to write something which gives the build-up, and the context. Then I got a bit carried away.

This erotic story combines two of my greatest loves: making guys come in their pants and… Crossrail. Sure, it involves descriptions of masturbation and anal sex, and a secret hand job at the back of a lecture theatre. But at its heart it’s a love letter to Crossrail. The non-human love of my life.

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I don’t want your hot dick or your dripping, sizzling spunk: I want you to mouth-fuck me with a Cornetto. Take your sweet, tight arse to the shop and come back with a bag of lollies. Give me ice-cold bites of everything.

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