Search Results for: lust
Historical erotica take 2, and the inevitability of personal fantasy
Last week I wrote a bona-fide erotic story. One with two characters who definitely weren’t me, in a setting that wasn’t my lounge, partaking in a dirty fuck that I have never had myself. I very rarely write fictional stories. Of the nearly 400 posts on this blog, fewer than 1% of them are fictional.
But every now and then something in particular strikes me as gorgeously hot, and it’s something that isn’t possible to recreate in my life at that exact moment. Whether it’s sex with a stranger, a gang-bang of some kind, or the kind of sex that would require my own Tardis. This week (and last week and – thanks to my recent discovery of The Tudors – probably next week as well) the hot stuff comes wrapped in lace and frills. Tight stomachers, breeches, and hard leather riding boots. ‘My Lord’s and ‘Your Grace’s and posh people dismissing their hot servants with a casual wave of their hand.
Thing is, with any fantasy I have, it always seems to end up in the same place. Last week I wrote about a maid getting fucked by a duke – the cold barrier between two people of different ranks, and the easy and nonchalant way in which he shagged her, with the same proprietorial ease with which he’d order her to turn down his bed or scrub the fireplace.
And this one, despite the complete role reversal in terms of power, doesn’t fundamentally differ because… well… when I give my mind free reign to wander wherever it likes, it always pops back to a very similar place. Guy on top, girl getting used, urgent sweaty fucks performed for no reason other than a desperate desire.
Every now and then I get drawn into a discussion about whether you can shape your own sexual desires. Obviously you can’t change fundamentals, but some people assert that, by introducing yourself to new experiences or pushing yourself into new fantasies, you can mould your own fantasies into something different to what you’d normally go for. I strongly suspect you can’t. I certainly can’t. While I’ll embrace any number of filthy fucks, unusual fetishes, or brand new experiences, my core sexuality will never significantly change. From the first wank I ever had over the idea of pirates punishing a serving wench, to the last one I’ll have on my deathbed, I suspect the theme will remain:
Guy meets girl. Girl bends over. He uses her like that’s all she’s good for.
Now here’s the story.
Guest blog: ‘The silhouette’ – an erotic story
Although I had a bash at some historical fantasy writing last week, one of the things there’s a real dearth of on my blog is traditional erotic fiction. There’s a reason for this, and that’s that I lack imagination. As a general rule, if it hasn’t happened in my bedroom, or appeared to me in a flash of arousal while I’m masturbating, it probably doesn’t occur to me. My fantasy characters are one-dimensional. They lack names, backstory, even faces. Beyond the vague reasons for them getting down to a hard fuck, they may as well be emotionless robots. Not very romantic, I know. So when Al sent through this guest blog, I thought it’d be an excellent opportunity to redress the balance. Something entirely fictional, and story-based. Something with a beginning, a middle, and an end that comes from a more interesting place than my furtive wank-induced fever dreams. In short: an actual erotic story. Enjoy.
What’s your ‘magic number’?
I have a list of all the people I’ve fucked. I know, that sounds intensely weird, and also a little bit creepy. I compiled it many years ago after a long, hazy night in a bar in Amsterdam, during which a good friend and I tried to work out what our ‘magic numbers’ were. I wasn’t particularly bothered about the total, but the exercise gave me pause for thought, and subsequent enraged weeping, when I realised that I couldn’t remember everyone’s name.
I thought I’d got it right at first. I counted people off on my fingers, smiling with glee when I got to a particularly good one, hissing when I reached the name of a person who’d fucked me over, and reminiscing over some of the filthier moments of my life. He did the same, regaling me with some sexy anecdotes as we sipped pints and hoped no one would notice that we were flagrantly ignoring the weird ‘you can smoke weed but not cigarettes’ rule that had just come into force.
Eventually, we both settled on our final numbers, and we clinked glasses – delighted at our powers of recollection.
An hour or so later, a cold dread crept over me: I’d missed one out. Not just any one either – a pretty significant guy, with whom I’d had some fairly intense experiences. Back to the mental drawing board, and the back of a napkin to make notes. And eventually the final list which, while possibly a bit strange, was a godsend when it came to writing my book: it meant I got the chapters in the right order and didn’t have to go back to cram in a quick fuck that I’d somehow forgotten.
Tight corsets and stable boys – historical fantasy is the hottest
You know how you’ll go through phases in terms of what you fantasise about? Well, maybe not everyone does, but I do. One week I might be obsessed with the idea of locking eyes with a stranger on the tube, staying on the train with him until our carriage is empty at the end of the line, until – with a quick jerk of his head and a filthy smile – he invites me to sit down on his cock and ride him to the final stop. Other weeks I might need more guys to make the fantasy complete – three or four willing gentlemen who pop round my house to gangbang me on the sofa – that kind of thing.
Right now, though, I am obsessed with historical fucking. Snatched moments between princes and parlour-maids, gentlewomen and stable hands – frilly skirts being hoiked up to the waist and corsets yanked down to expose jiggling tits as someone’s fucked against the wall.
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14 things that I loved in 2014
Every year I resolve to be better at promoting other people’s stuff, and every year I fail to live up to my own expectations. Absurdly, this is mainly because I get anxious and end up panicking that I’ll miss people off the list, which means I end up missing everyone off the list, because there is no list.
So this year I’m resolving to be better. And I’ll start with a list of 14 things I’ve loved this year. Some made me think, some made me laugh, and some made me horny. It’s not a definitive list, and I’ve almost certainly missed some cracking stuff, so if you want to pimp a particular blog post and go ‘hey, what about me?!’ please do add it in the comments. And if you email me your blog feed, and use the subject heading “Come the fuck on, GOTN, read my blog”, I promise I will add you to my feedly. Let’s make 2015 the year when I get off my arse.
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