Let’s start with the obvious: hard and heavy and thick and copious, deep down the back of my throat. After a few rounds of me teasing you with my lips and tongue and hands and spit and all the bells and whistles. Building you up and up and up in time to the music, then letting you plateau for a while in that moment, on the beat, with movements that are almost-but-not-quite fast or forceful enough to tip you over the edge. Once, twice, then three times before you ask me: “Do you want my cum? Are you ready for my cum?” and I mumble my assent through a mouthful of dick with eyes that flash ‘yes please’, so you let go. Pumping it – like I said – hard and heavy and thick and copious. Right down my throat so I almost gag and choke. But instead of gagging, I make a point of guzzling. One big, hard swallow with an almost cartoonish gulp, amplified so you can hear. Then another one, just in case you didn’t.

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Special guest blog for you all today – an extract from a brand new collection of erotica! You might remember JK Mill’s fabulous short story here from a few months ago – fucking 150 feet up – a devastatingly horny tale about shagging halfway up a cliff-face. She’s back today to promote Wicked Little Miracles, a collection of erotic stories written by 18 different writers spanning everything from the tender and romantic to the strange, funny, filthy and fantastical. To whet your appetites, here’s an extract from a piece by Paragonas Vaunt, set at a gas station glory hole. I know how much readers here go wild for a glory hole story, so I’m delighted to share it with you. We join the action once the main character, Amy, has already stepped into the glory hole booth, and rung the ‘Priority Service’ bell, but she still has every chance to walk away. She’s weighing shame, respectability, age, loyalty, and the fear of being judged against a desire she’s denied herself for years…

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I’m so delighted to welcome this week’s guest blogger, who has been working behind the scenes to test out a kickass product from one of my site sponsors. The New York Toy Collective’s Trans Masc Pump is something that not many UK shops stock but Francesca, who runs the fabulous shop The Pleasure Garden, wanted to make sure that trans guys in the UK had access to some of the same gender expression products as our cousins over the pond. And to spread the word about it, we asked Erik – who wrote a fabulous guest blog here a while ago about sex in the time of fascism – to try out the pump and share his thoughts. I’m so grateful to him for giving such thoughtful insight – not just into how these pumps work, which will be really useful to those of you considering buying one, but also some more personal thoughts on the difference between sex toys and gender-affirming care.

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When she’s sat for long enough in the aftermath of her wanton behaviour – knickers down, bent over the desk in his office, palms smarting from the whipping that kicked off her punishment, he calls her through to the lounge.

Just one word, barked with force and anger:

“Come.”

Note: degradation/humiliation, consensual role play, beating, fucking-as-punishment, slut shaming. Catch up on part one (gang bang in a bar) and part two (tell me where you’ve been) then pop back here for the climax. 

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There’s a reason she turned up to the club wearing no knickers, and it’s a very very good one. As she’s getting dressed, she briefly contemplates which ones to wear – silk, lace, maybe a tiny black thong that can be easily torn off. Eventually she settles for ‘none at all’ though, plus a skirt that’s easy to hike up round her waist. That option seems like the best one, to achieve the end goal on which she’s so utterly focused.

Note this story contains degradation, a gang bang, dicks going into all the holes, cum, etc etc etc. 

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