This post is part of a series of emotional fucks – I asked people on Twitter to give me different atmospheres/types of fuck and then used each as the basis for some erotic fiction. I’ve done revenge fuck, spite fuck and principle fuck, this one’s about a grief fuck. Two people try to conjure the fun they had with a friend before he died.

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This is the next post in a series of erotic fiction about emotional fucks, where I’m having fun writing fictional characters who do filthy-hot things that may or may not be very ethical. This post involves a character fantasising about a spite fuck. Her fantasy involves things that – if they actually happened in real life – would certainly not be consensual. If that’s not your cup of tea, please don’t read on, but if you like sex stories that include twisted revenge and powerful anger, get stuck in.

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I love audio porn, but I’m a very fidgety and anxious person. So when I listened to erotica that began with guided meditation, I was worried I might not make it past the first five minutes. But can I get over my anxiety if there’s erotic joy at the end of it? Here’s what happened when I tried experiential erotica…

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Let me envelop your dick. Submerge it inside me, like I’m slipping you into a warm bath. When I look at you, this is all I want: everything else would be too active on your part. I need to fuck you like I need to stroke your brow with a cool cloth, and whisper soothing words into your ear.

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The problem with writing a non-fiction blog is that sometimes the characters can get boring. I really like the guy I fuck, so I can’t really sink my teeth into stories that have darker emotions attached. So recently, on a bit of a holiday from my normal blogging, I wrote a whole bunch of erotic fiction pieces based on different kinds of fuck. Hate fucks, pity fucks, spite fucks and so on. This one is a revenge fuck.

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