Note: this post contains minor spoilers for the filthy scenes in Saltburn. Which I (obviously) loved. 

I’m not going to do it.

Damn right you’re not going to do it. 

Even though… there isn’t really any harm in doing it?

Don’t you dare do it.

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The next time I see my boyfriend, I’m going to make sure I brush my lips really slowly against the soft skin in the curve between his neck and his shoulder. I’m going to run my hands up the back of his t-shirt and relish the warmth of his body through the cotton. I’m going to tell him ‘I missed you’ and mean it more than I have since early August, when I very rudely disappeared for two whole weeks in the early days of our relationship. On the morning I returned from that trip, we went to the pub for a couple of hours before I took him home to my place, and when I stood up to get my round in, I ran my fingertips down the back of his head – recently-but-not too freshly-shaved, feather soft against my skin. He later whispered to me that the touch had made his cock jump. So fuck it, yeah: the next time I see my boyfriend, I’ll want to do that again too.

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Instead of doing some boring-as-fuck intro where I tell you how hard it’s been to choose my top smut from 2023, this year I’m going to open with a thank you. Thank you to every single one of you lovely pervs for reading, listening, sharing and commenting over the last 12 months. This year has been hard, and as a result I’ve published less than I usually would, but for some reason shitloads of you have still come to this cum-covered corner of the internet to join in and beat one out. Over 1.7 million of you (WHAT THE FUCK) came in 2023, giving over 6.6 million pageviews (WHAT THE DOUBLE FUCK). And although this would usually translate into piles of sweet sweet cash, because I’m an adult site I can’t make money the way a normal website would, with Google ads and whatnot. So through trembling sobs of truly heartfelt gratitude I want to say thank you to my incredible sponsors (Bloom Stories, Doxy, Dreams of Spanking, ElectraStim, FrolicMe, Godemiche, Hot Octopuss, Literotica, Meo, The Pleasure Garden, Sex Tech Guide and Whipple Tickle), without whom half of this would be impossible, as well as to my extraordinary team of generous Patreons, who provide the support that holds up the other half. Thank you, too, to the hot, incredible, incredibly hot people who have been kind enough to let me share our adventures here on site. This year that’s mostly been Hot Punk Guy [HEART EYES EMOJI], but special thanks also to Shop Man who restored my faith in dating, Maelstrom of Fuck couple who helped me achieve a fun bucket list thing (which I’ll write up for the blog later) and my lovely comet who showed me a great time exactly when I needed it.

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In this piece, the dominant narrator is going to tease you, frustrate you, and then eventually take you slowly. In this version, the narrator is voiced beautifully Stephen Carling. If you would prefer a woman’s voice, check out She’s going to take you slowly, read by Girl on the Net. 

Today, I want to take you slowly. That’s my plan. I’m going to explain to you, in detail, exactly how I’m gonna take you. And you’re going to stay nice and quiet for me while you listen, touching yourself if you want to, but not yet making yourself come.

Are you happy with that? OK. Let’s do this.

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There are lots of things I enjoy about this time of year, but gifts aren’t one of them. I feel uncomfortable if people buy them for me (please don’t go to any trouble!) and I’m terrified of giving them. Although I occasionally have a flash of inspiration, or the time and ability to arrange a cool trip or activity, most of the time I end up panic-buying a present at the last minute that’s way over my tiny budget, because I didn’t have time to shop/think/make but I need this person to know that I care about them anyway. Even the cool things I do occasionally manage come with a hefty dollop of misery as I agonise over the fact that they will still fall woefully short. It never feels possible to buy a gift that is thoughtful enough, arrange an outing that’s fun enough, or write a poem in a card that’s meaningful enough to capture the weight of my love for this kickass person. But I tell you what I can do very well: gratitude.

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