This breathtaking story about a blow job in a sex cinema is written and read by Joy as it Flies. Note that this scene contains breath play and BDSM. 

I love sucking his dick. Jesus, I love sucking his dick. I love the taste of it, the feel of it, the way it fits between my lips, the dimensions of it perfect as it slides towards the back of my throat, awash with saliva. I love the rhythm of it – the change of pace as I move from active to passive, as we swap from me using my mouth to him using my mouth and back again. I do not love this man, I barely even know him, but I am utterly infatuated with the sensation of his dick resting on my tongue.

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This gorgeous strap on erotica is written and read by the fabulous Sherryl of TintedBlu.com

We often spoke about the idea of doing it, but I wasn’t totally convinced that he was truly ready to go there. I mean I knew he was up for it but was he really up for it up for it?

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This gorgeous story is written by Nooky and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net. 

You’re supposed to meet at the elevators at 6.30 — drinks and supper and then, after, the train back to his place, your first time sleeping there. You’ve fucked at yours, a couple times, once in a hotel. A blowjob in the park, behind a fenced-off carousal. The pre-date quickie on his couch last week when you’d picked him up. But this is the first time really going to his.

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This gleefully filthy erotic fiction is written by Kate, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net. 

There’s four of us at the breakfast table – the father, the son, the mother and me. Well, I say four, it’s three – the father, the son and me – the mother is making breakfast like a dutiful housewife and the son gets packed off to school sharpish, leaving the father and the mother and me. His and hers dressing gowns. She balked at my ill-fitting t shirt from some summer festival in ’75. I was a child, then. She didn’t know me, then. Whoever bought this t shirt bought it for a boyfriend or lover who turned out rotten so to the thrift shop it went and I scooped it up and sleep in it, after a boil wash.

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Kate is one of those writers whose work makes me have to go for a lie-down and a wank. I mean… you probably don’t need to know much more than that, right? Hazard of the job: sometimes browsing other people’s work to share the love with other bloggers, or record something especially filth as audio, means I get cuntpunched with lust and have to give myself a break. Sugar Baby is Kate’s Christmas present to me, and to us all. It’s filth: I adore it.

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