Category Archives: Filthy ones
Sexy tattoos, and the power of ‘fuck it’
I am definitely biased in favour of people with sexy tattoos. Take any guy who is funny or pretty or interesting enough to vaguely grab my attention, slap a tattoo on him, and watch as I turn from mildly intrigued to drooling at the mouth. (more…)
Risky sex: don’t try this at home
Today I’m obsessed with risky sex. The kind that gets your heart hammering in time to the thud of your crotch, as you fuck with a nebulous yet oh-so-urgent deadline. Get it over with before the others find you.
Risky sex. Like the snatched gropes you have in crowded places, or the slightly-more-than-that which teenagers do on the bus.
Sex you have not because you’re too horny to get a room, but because the thrill of being discovered makes it all feel more illicit.
Jizz: there can never ever be enough
I will never not be fascinated by jizz. It’s probably the topic I’ve covered most often here – from the best places to jizz to the weird questions I’ve asked about it.
Perhaps it’s because I can’t produce it myself, or because I sense a similar fascination in guys – that agony of choice when you decide where to do it, and how, and when.
But let’s talk about the only frustration I have with spunk: that there is never – can never be – enough.
Book launch: chapter 6, How A Bad Girl Fell In Love – text and audio
My latest book is out today! Here are the links to buy it, and if you want to read a sample, then below is the whole of chapter 6, in text and at the bottom in audio (which I think technically counts as audio porn).
Extract below. I’m chuffed that this was the chapter picked for extract because I think it gives a pretty decent overview of the book – a bit of behind-the-scenes on blogging, a couple of fucking lovely blokes, a rant about openness and a dirty lubed-up hand job. Hope you like it.
Something that’s better than bath sex
I don’t really like fucking in the bath, although one day I’ll tell you about the most successful bath sex I ever had – long, teasing and achingly slow in a hard way: each stroke like a punishment, which came with a splash of water. The delicious, almost-but-not-quite drowning sensation as my mouth and nose slipped below the water line.
Today, though, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is lie in the bath with the radio on, sink into bubbles and warmth, and have him sit beside me with his fingers in my cunt.
This is what we did the other day.
This is now what I want to do every day.
Until I die or, more realistically, get bored of it – I’m far too jaded now to think anything’s forever.