Tag Archives: boys I’ve slept with

All the beautiful ways your body changes

On Sunday morning when I slipped back into bed, I realised something: your body changes on a daily basis, and so I will never know every inch of it. It is always new.

From the scent of you, to the heat you radiate, to the marks and curves that come and go: I will never know every detail of your body.

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Being used: the dirty story

“Let’s get some dick in you.”

Storytelling is like sex: so much of it is about the angle. And there are two ways I can tell this dirty story. One ends with a punchline, the other with a perfect climax.

As this is the filthy version, I’ll give it to you quick and hard.

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Sexy tattoos, and the power of ‘fuck it’

I am definitely biased in favour of people with sexy tattoos. Take any guy who is funny or pretty or interesting enough to vaguely grab my attention, slap a tattoo on him, and watch as I turn from mildly intrigued to drooling at the mouth. (more…)

Risky sex: don’t try this at home

Today I’m obsessed with risky sex. The kind that gets your heart hammering in time to the thud of your crotch, as you fuck with a nebulous yet oh-so-urgent deadline. Get it over with before the others find you.

Risky sex. Like the snatched gropes you have in crowded places, or the slightly-more-than-that which teenagers do on the bus.

Sex you have not because you’re too horny to get a room, but because the thrill of being discovered makes it all feel more illicit.

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Book launch: chapter 6, How A Bad Girl Fell In Love – text and audio

My latest book is out today! Here are the links to buy it, and if you want to read a sample, then below is the whole of chapter 6, in text and at the bottom in audio (which I think technically counts as audio porn).

Extract below. I’m chuffed that this was the chapter picked for extract because I think it gives a pretty decent overview of the book – a bit of behind-the-scenes on blogging, a couple of fucking lovely blokes, a rant about openness and a dirty lubed-up hand job. Hope you like it.

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