My bedsheets smell like last night’s fucking. Well, fucking which lasted the whole of yesterday if I’m honest. Then once again this morning at roughly 5 am. We barebacked: my favourite kind of fuck. Rock-solid, exquisitely-shaped, diamond-hard cock sliding inside me, bare. Leaking precum. I could feel every single atom of his dick against every ridge of the inside of my aching cunt. His flesh meeting mine, stretching me out. Sensing, as he slid into my body, just how desperately and urgently wet I was. We bareback fucked to a soundtrack of tunes that he selected and I utterly loved while I clung to that man like my life depended on it and begged him to never stop doing what he was doing. He looked into my eyes and whispered: “you’re fucking incredible” and kissed me with a kind of gentle awe. This is a real thing which happened to me yesterday. This man fucked me like he meant it. And oh God, put me out of my misery now please: if this man turns out not to mean it, I will shatter.

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I want you to connect with this blog post. I want that with all of them, but this one in particular. Dive in, let go, have fun. Don’t wonder where it’s going or what might happen next. I want you to connect with this story.

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I don’t want to hop onto the traditional relationship escalator – the societal script that dictates broadly how committed relationships are supposed to play out, gradually escalating from ‘dating’ through ‘exclusivity’ and onward towards cohabitation, marriage, babies and beyond. Although I’m definitely still open to stuff like living together and owning a joint home, I’ve been burned so thoroughly on both of these things that I’m not keen to leap back in unless there’s a really compelling reason/guy. But that’s not to say that escalation in and of itself is bad. Here’s an alternative relationship escalator.

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I can’t tease you any longer, my friends. It was cruel of me to do so in the first place. The fun little trilogy that started with a dating challenge and moved on to me and a hot guy swapping sex stories is just that: a trilogy. It’s not the first chapter in a brand new erotic romance. Fuck it, though, he and I had a lot of fun, and personally I find it fitting (and deeply satisfying for my overall philosophy) that the guy who restored my faith in dating didn’t do so by being the perfect match, but by embarking on our dates with genuine emotional honesty. When I set out on the initial challenge (‘ask out the hot man who works in my shop’) it wasn’t about whether he said ‘yes’, only about whether I was brave enough to ask him in the first place. Likewise, the success of our dates didn’t come down to whether we kicked off a serious relationship, but whether we met as equals with a genuine desire to find out if we matched. The fact that we don’t match is no more than a footnote. The headline is that we found that answer swiftly, respectfully, and while having a fair bit of fun. Shop Man Part 3. Let’s do this.

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This gorgeous guided masturbation/fisting story in which our narrator gets help to rediscover her orgasm is written and read by Carolyna Luna, and originally appeared on her website. 

I haven’t always had to pay for my orgasms. I’d given up caring about stigmas, however, when my years of anorgasmia were overcome under Naomi’s firm guidance. So when her text pinged that morning, I put my coat right back on and headed out.

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