I’ve written quite a lot about anxiety here on the blog, but I don’t think I’ve ever written anything as beautiful as this guest blog on performance anxiety. The way he captures the minutiae of life intruding on sexual pleasure, then zooms out to place those in the context of larger existential panics – it properly punched me in the heart. If you’re thinking of pitching me a guest blog but you’re nervous, please read this and see that you don’t always have to focus on one specific story, or give a super-comprehensive and detailed piece of advice: sometimes the best sex writing is about capturing a feeling, articulating it beautifully, and then sharing it to help other people feel a little less alone.

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It’s pitch black in my bedroom. Weirdly, so much darker than it usually is. Perhaps a streetlight is out, or maybe I’ve finally managed the perfect seal on my blackout curtains, so not a sliver of London night sneaks through. Either way, it’s dark. He’s lying naked next to me, big hands sliding smoothly down my body, soft lips on mine, cock growing hard in my hand. And although I’m going to try and tell you parts of this story in the sexy/atmospheric way in which I’ve begun this post, you’ll have to excuse me if the odd burst of glee breaks through, because on this special night I managed something truly remarkable for me: I gave a guy a hand job to orgasm!

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Second only to blow jobs, I think the most-covered topic on this blog is the joy of watching men wank. I am a masturbation voyeur: there are few things that make me hornier than seeing someone I fancy rubbing vigorously away at their junk, with a precision born of years of practice coupled with an urgent need to come. Recently, I got to watch an extremely hot guy do this and just after he’d come I tried to explain to him – with breathless and grateful awe – the exact moment when the wank he’d shown me turned from ‘hot’ to ‘transcendent.’

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You know those meditation apps which show a circle increasing and decreasing in size, which encourage you to breathe in and out in time with the animation? Sometimes I like to fuck like that.

CN: drug use, minor references to panic attacks. But broadly this is a super-hot one, I promise. 

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This erotic story about fucking the boss is written by Scorpio Appetites, and read by Girl on the Net. Note this story contains brief use of ‘daddy’ as an honorific.

‘Hey, who’ve I gotta fuck to get another beer over here?’ I smile sweetly at the customer and put another Stella on the counter. I’m wearing a checked shirt tied low enough to show a flash of black bra and as much cleavage as I can muster, and I enjoy feeling his drunken gaze rake over me. I drink his impotent desire like a shot of cheap whiskey. The two feet of bar between us may as well be a trillion miles.

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