Category Archives: Filthy ones
Your dick. My mouth. Now.
How did I chat people up before? When I was single, and I had to put some effort in beyond just saying “Your dick. My mouth. Now”?
I think I probably started with a hint: a story about this one time at college, leading to a detailed breakdown of who did what. But where there were strangers, now there’s one guy. Where there were hints, now there’s directness:
“Your dick. My mouth. Now.”
A dirty poem, because why not?
I’m still catching up on work, blog and life after Eroticon, so to tide you over with something fun I’ll give you a quick and dirty poem. I wrote this in part during Ashley Lister’s workshop, then tweaked it slightly on the train back.
It’s rough. But so am I.
Riding crops: tally fucking ho
WHY HAVE I NEVER WRITTEN ABOUT RIDING CROPS?! I need to rectify this immediately, because riding crops are not only super-hot, but they also represent one of my earliest sexual memories. And by that I mean there was one time I spotted a riding crop on TV and couldn’t understand why I got all the funny feelings.
Being used: the other side of the story
“Let’s get some dick in you.”
There are two ways I can tell this story. If you’ve not read the sexy version then pop over and read that before you look at this one – I suspect it won’t have quite the same effect if you read them the other way around. I’ve been wanting to do this ‘two versions’ thing for a while, because it’s as honest an answer as I can find to a very frequently asked question: is what you write true?
It is. But storytelling, like sex, is often about the angle.
Being used: the dirty story
“Let’s get some dick in you.”
Storytelling is like sex: so much of it is about the angle. And there are two ways I can tell this dirty story. One ends with a punchline, the other with a perfect climax.
As this is the filthy version, I’ll give it to you quick and hard.