Girl on the Net

Listen up, fans of interesting sex challenges. This week’s guest blogger has a kickass idea for you. He’s written some fabulous guest blogs here before, including a delightful piece about where he wears his wedding ring, what a prostate orgasm feels like, and his quest for the perfect butt plug. So I’m delighted to welcome him back today to mark the start of a fun sex challenge he’s set himself for the month of November. And no, it is definitely not the one you’re thinking of…

Content note: suicidal ideation, suicide planning and other extremely dark themes. Please do not read if this is likely to distress you. Check out some of the past Halloween erotica instead – in the past I’ve done a vampire, a werewolf, a succubus, a siren, a reanimated corpse and even the monster that lives under your bed. This time, I thought I’d have a go at writing a ghost story. As I say, there are very dark suicidal themes here, so please don’t read on if you’re not in the headspace for that. Any sexy stuff that happens is fully consensual, though it might be the only part that is.

I’m not dead: that’s the first thing you need to know. Don’t expect a twist ending where you shudder over my demise. That’s not to say I won’t come close: I have welcomed death. In fact, I fell so deeply in love with death that I almost embraced it forever. The second thing you need to know is that in the end, love will save me.

I walk in on him wanking, that’s how this fantasy starts. I’ve just got out of the shower, hair tousled and body lotioned so it’s nice and smooth with a slight slippery residue that makes everything shine. I open the door to the living room with half-formed notions of asking him to touch my tits to warm me up. Maybe invite him to come to the bedroom with me, roll around naked on the big bed in all that post-shower softness. But he’s already masturbating when I go in: hunched over on the sofa beating at his dick like it’s urgent that he drains out all the spunk.

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I want what she’s having. Seriously, right now I would give (almost) anything for the type of sex LM describes in this piece. The ‘reset fuck’, which brings you back to yourself and drags you out of your own head… unngh. LM has written some gorgeous guest pieces here before, so click the links in the post to find some of them and check out more of her amazing work. In the meantime, enjoy this hot story about a reset fuck… I am so jealous right now.

Note this piece contains consensual kink and BDSM including spanking and using belts as harnesses around someone’s neck. Do not try this at home unless you know how to do it safely (i.e. without putting any pressure on their neck). 

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I’m dating again. Not with great gusto so far, and my most promising dating opportunities are ones that sit outside the swipe-focused stuff anyway. But I am having a go with a few different dating apps to see if there are any that don’t make me want to chuck my phone in the Thames. This time, I’m giving myself side quests to try and avoid the malaise that characterised my last go on this merry-go-round. The problem isn’t always down to other users, to be honest, although inevitably it’s annoying to be greeted with a bunch of likes and messages from guys who have clearly not looked at a single word of my profile, seeing only my pictures and thinking ‘eh, she’ll do‘ then firing off a lazy-ass ‘hey.’ The bigger problem these days is the rampant capitalist hellscape of apps that tempt you in with the promise of connection then demand you open your wallet if you want to actually talk. But still. We’re doing this. And part of ‘doing this’ in a way that makes it fun means allowing myself to write about the experience. That way, when aspects of the dating journey annoy me, rather than curl up and weep in a corner I can roll my eyes and remind myself that at least it’ll make good content. So. Here goes: four reasons I will instantly swipe left.

Note, as always, that like most of my other dating advice articles, this one is tediously straight. 

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