Girl on the Net

I often get blood on the bedsheets. When I’m fucking someone and I’m due on my period, especially if they have a relatively long dick or we’re shagging in a position that gives depth, sometimes I bleed when we’re fucking. I don’t always notice, because it doesn’t hurt, so I often get blood on the bedsheets. It’s not the end of the world because humans are basically just weird bags of flesh and rocks and liquid, and sometimes when you’re shagging those liquids might spill out in ways that mean you have to do more laundry. It’s the cost of doing business, if you’re in the business of having lovely sex a lot of the time, and I don’t think it’s an onerous one. If the sex is good, then a bit of blood isn’t a huge price to pay – in fact, it’s a fucking bargain. I’m going to tell you two stories about blood on the bedsheets, each one involving a different man. And hopefully in doing so I’m going to illustrate one way to keep shame out of your bedroom, and show why I feel so strongly about banishing shame from my own.

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It feels weird turning up to work when fascism is on the rise. It certainly does for me, anyway. Why am I still posting porn? Who wants to wank when we’re scared about the people we love? Erik’s guest blog pitch couldn’t have come at a better time, when I’ve been wrestling with this question and feeling monstrously silly for continuing to do this horny little job even as I’m shaking with rage at the news. He’s here to talk about the power of horny feelings, and joy, and why we shouldn’t abandon sex in the time of fascism. I’m so very grateful to him for sharing this incredible post.

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I’ve spent far too long trying to come up with ideas to put a spin on this year’s Valentine’s Day post. I promise my lovely site sponsors I’ll do one every year, because Valentine’s Day is pretty big in the sex industry and it’s a good time to remind you of awesome products that you can buy to support my work. This year I’m struggling. Everything’s awful, isn’t it? Fascism, obviously. The latest tranche of Epstein emails. AI making it hard to know what’s real and what isn’t. Genocide. I get that this isn’t the most appropriate way to start a post about Valentine’s Day, but forgive me, it’s all I have. Everything is absolutely terrible, and it’s hard to write a jolly wrap or sexy little vignette designed to sell you sex toys in the shadow of all that.

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CN: drug use (weed). I don’t recommend drug use, and if I’m honest I’d always tell you that if you’ve never tried drugs and you don’t have a medical reason to do so, you should steer well clear. But I didn’t listen to this advice when I was young, so I enjoy drugs – often as part of sex. This is one of the things I like to do with them.

We like breath play and we also like getting high. The second part of that sentence means I definitely can’t put the audio of this post on Patreon, what with their rules about drugs being naughty and all. But it’s a good enough story that it’s worth telling anyway, because if you’re into weed and breath play too, you might enjoy this trick.

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I love fiction that focuses on fantasy-fulfilment: there’s a beauty in knowing that even fantasies we wouldn’t be able to live out in real life (or wouldn’t want to live out, in some cases) can still be enjoyed and revelled in as stories. Stories we tell ourselves to get hard or wet, and stories we share with others to give them that kick of lust too. This week’s guest blog is a fabulous piece of fiction by Gemini (whose work you can also find here on Literotica!), in which he indulges a long-standing curiosity. To put on a skirt, get playful, and seduce his best friend…

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