Is there any advice you could give your partner(s) that applies equally to your sexual life and your romantic life? As a general rule, my answer would be ‘no’, because in bed I want to be used and degraded but outside it I want support and kindness and equality. However, recently I realised there’s one broad rule that might apply to almost every aspect of interacting with me: the tighter you hold me, the harder I struggle.

This post features discussion of anxiety and also a real-life scene with elements of consensual non-consent. I know, right? I contain multitudes. If you like the idea of struggle-fucking as described in this post, know you’re gonna need to put the work in first: talk to your partner in detail about what you both want, and how you can withdraw consent if you want to. 

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I’m really delighted to welcome back @OxyFromSg (whose erotica you can find at Oxy And Phedre’s Sinful Stories) – a prolific guest blogger who has written stunning posts before on music and sexual memories, making a DIY gloryhole and (my personal favourite) sucking his own cock. Today his post is more topical, focusing on Covid and libido. A total drop in libido was one of the things that alerted him to the fact that something was wrong…

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The UK Government has announced its roadmap out of lockdown, and although the government has been as bad at acknowledging sex as it has been good at handing expensive contracts to its incompetent mates, I’m here to help with a brief guide to what the lockdown roadmap means for slags.

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This intensely hot story about a bridesmaid degrading herself is written by Kate, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net, and it contains themes of degradation.

“He’ll never love you,” she said weakly to her reflection – a vision with puffy red eyes and crumbs of mascara peppered around them like funereal glitter. Her flushed chest matched the crimson hue of her eyelids. The bridesmaid’s dress, which had once held her like a lover and accentuated the curve of the arse that the groom had fucked the night before his engagement party, now hung a little less naughtily, gaping where her hunched shoulders diminished the volume of her breasts, threatening to be exposed by the dress, that was now sizes too big.

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It probably won’t shock you to learn that I’m not much of a spiritual or superstitious person. Apart from the occasional knock on wood or crossing of fingers (which I do despite knowing it’ll have absolutely zero impact on the universe), I am a pretty boring, sceptical person. I don’t think I’ve ever slept with someone who’s really superstitious either. So please, as you read the following fantastic guest post from Zapatica about an incredibly superstitious guy she slept with, imagine my jaw fully on the floor and me yelling ‘RUN’ like in a horror movie. She’s been here before to discuss ending a long-term booty call, and I’m delighted to welcome her back – with her magical soul-hexing pussy…

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