Category Archives: Filthy ones
Fuck me like you’re wanking
I could sit watching him wank forever – as he lies on one sofa, injured hand trying to wring an impossible orgasm out of his twitching, eager cock. A brief recap of where we left off on Wednesday: I’m sitting wanking on one sofa in the living room, my partner is wanking on the other, but his hand is injured so he can’t get the grip required to come. The sight of him frustratedly rubbing at his cock is so hot I came too quickly, but I’m stroking my clit and hoping for more because I just love watching him like this…
Mutual masturbation: I could do this forever
Remember last Wednesday’s blog post, where my partner injured his hand and then gave me a cute compliment? That unscripted compliment wasn’t the only good thing to come out of his DIY disaster. As he pointed out soon after he’d mangled his palm, in a voice tinged with horror and distress: that was his wanking hand. He is not a man who goes without a wank easily, and I’m not a girl who misses the opportunity for a new kind of mutual masturbation. So we set to work…
Apocalypse fantasy: gang bangs, dreams and reality
I am not hoping for the apocalypse. Let that sink in, fully and completely, because although this includes a dirty story about gang-bangs and sexual servicing, it is not an ‘ apocalypse fantasy’ in the purposeful sense: I do not ever want it to come true. I don’t want the world to end, and I don’t want anyone to die. But sometimes, when I am calm and happy, I entertain myself by daydreaming about the end of the world. In my fantasy, all the people on the planet have disappeared except for a select few. And those select few: they fuck me.
Fucking outdoors: the opposite of getting a room
When I was young, fucking outdoors was a mundane necessity. The phrase ‘get a room‘ ironically got far more of an airing when none of us really had any rooms to ‘get’ to. So we fucked in parks. Behind bushes. Occasionally in tents or sheds. Anywhere you could reasonably slide off your clothes without risk of getting caught by your parents or the police. It didn’t seem adventurous: it was just the only option. Now, though, necessity has given way to spice. Fucking outdoors is an adventure.
