This fabulous erotic fiction piece about romantic outdoor sex is written by Spencer Pritchard, and read aloud by Luke. 

Your train pulls up to the platform and those butterflies in your stomach, subdued by the inevitable delays, suddenly leap back in to life and begin their merry dance again. Will I be on the platform, waiting with a crass sign in hand, your pseudonym bold black tarnishing the virginity of the white card it’s printed on? Will I be sat outside in a hire car, listening to the radio and only notice you stood there after 5 long minutes? Will I have got tired of waiting for the late train to arrive and headed to the small lochside bungalow alone, leaving you to make your own way, each one of the thousands of butterflies slowly dying as the seconds pass on the long journey?

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This fabulous story is written and read by JM Seaborn. I couldn’t work out how to categorise it, but it touches on a fantasy that I imagine quite a few people will have had, leaning in to the idea of making your ex jealous by fucking a new partner. Note that this story contains use of the words ‘Daddy’ and ‘Babygirl’ during kink. All characters in the story are over the age of 18.

It’s a busy house party and you’re nervous for two reasons. 1. Your ex is going to be there. 2. This is the first time your friends will meet Daddy.

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I’m not going to tell you about the first time I shagged this guy. I might in a later post, but not right now. By way of backstory, I’ll just explain that I’ve known him online for a while, and recently we ran into each other and fucked. It was extremely fun – so fun that we did it again the next day. I’m not going to tell you about that now, though, because after we’d finished round one, as his spunk was drying on my face, he asked “are you gonna write about me?” with such eager, puppydog energy that I thought it would be fun to make him wait. However, once I’d returned home (after washing my face, naturally), I did get the urge to write this. Publishing it might seem like a bold move for a woman who may never see this guy again, but fuck it: he has a kink that I’d dearly love to flesh out in my wank bank. If you’ve ever shagged a rich person hoping for a ride in their fancy car, you might understand a little of my motivation here: I really want a go on this guy’s kink. It’s the Porsche I’ve looked longingly at but never had a chance to properly drive. Something so gutpunch-wank-bank fascinating to me that I reckon its worth potentially embarrassing myself for. So instead of writing a true account of the first time we fucked, I’m gonna tell you what I’d do if I got the chance to hang out with him again. Here are some questions I’d love to ask of the man I have only fucked twice.

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This gorgeous erotic fiction piece is written by Spencer Pritchard, and read aloud here by Matt Johnson. Note that this BDSM cuckolding erotica contains consensual power play, and uses the word ‘slave’ within a kink context.  

I can feel the fabric pulled tight across my eyes. Anticipation making my fingers twitch as I fight the urge to lift the blindfold before you command me to, your last words still sat in my ears: “Do not remove that until I tell you too, or else you won’t get your treat.”

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When I was about nineteen years old, a boy I was madly in love with grabbed me by the wrist to flip me over in bed. I still think about that moment. It was swift and confident and perfect. Crushed up facing each other on my single student bed, we were breathing so close to each other’s mouths, with such burning lust, that we could easily have just passed pure carbon dioxide back and forth until both of us passed out. Maybe that’s why we were so high on the horn of it. At some point before I fully fainted with desire, he took action. And the way in which he acted was so fucking hot it made my cunt swell with a tortured throb. He reached down between us to where my arms were held across my chest, grabbed the wrist of the arm I was lying on, encircling it firmly in his grip, and pulled it down my body and over my waist. Using it to flip me over so that now – instead of us facing each other and there being a cold gap between us at crotch height – I was facing away, my arse pressed up tight against his aching, diamond-hard cock.

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