This fantasy is written and read aloud as audio by Blake (aka Pandora Blake) who runs the incredible Dreams of Spanking website. Blake is one of my adult industry heroes – they create fabulous queer, kinky content, fight against industry censorship, and they’re also one of the first people I ever worked with in this industry. I owe so much of my knowledge and passion to them. A while ago Blake and I collaborated on a couple of really fun interviews – you can find one half on my Patreon here and the other on Blake’s Patreon over here. As part of that collaboration we also exchanged a few audio porn stories to be published on each other’s websites. I shared some of my spankier fantasies with Dreams, and they shared some stunning spanking fantasy erotica with me as well. On top of this, Blake very kindly let me publish this fantastic extract from the first draft of their book on erotic fantasies. It’s dark and raw and – thanks to Patreon terms and conditions – impossible to publish over there or as part of the Patreon-funded audio project. Hence why it’s going up here in the guest blog slot. I’m so honoured that Blake is up for sharing this piece, and I hope that reading or listening to it gives you a taste of why I’m such a fan of their style: embracing and accepting the taboo things that our sexual selves often desire, while understanding the clear line between our fantasies and reality. Note that this story includes themes of implied non-consent and sex slavery, bondage, severe corporal punishment and penetration – particularly anal penetration with a biological cock. 

Impossible fantasies

Our earliest fantasies often have so much longevity because they arose during a time characterised by intense pubescent longing. Our first crushes, the first glimpses of another person which turned us on – all these are memories of wanting something we couldn’t have.

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I remember very vividly the first sexy daydream I had about a boy. I felt myself growing hot and tense inside before experiencing a release of arousal as the daydream came to climax. Not a real climax, sadly I’ve never had the ability to make myself come just by thinking about the right thing. But the right thoughts can trigger something intense, and this was the first time I’d experienced that intensity: the instant, shocking realisation that my mind could make my body do this thing, purely through the power of imagination. It was way more graphic than the purely cerebral lust I’d felt for guys in the past. When I talk about this feeling on the blog, I often refer to it as that ‘kick in the gut’ of lust. Or the unngh moment. Some fantasies might press a few buttons in your mind, sparking ideas and feelings that you want to follow up later, but these particular sexy dreams and daydreams are on another level: they kick me in the gut. Give me that unngh.

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A few days before we’re due to hang out, he texts me a fantasy. Couched in the standard consent-focused caveats (“Only if that sounds hot to you…”) that I find extremely cute – they function essentially as the ‘no worries if not!’ of fucking. His request is neat, specific, and very easy to achieve: he wants to arrive at my place, have me greet him at the door with no words whatsoever, then as soon as he’s inside, drop to my knees and start sucking his dick. No words, just cocksucking.

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Oh hey team, sorry to bother you. Quick question. Won’t take long. Just wanna sense-check something based on my own patterns of behaviour and whether or not they could be considered ‘normal’. Tell me: when should I stop masturbating over my ex?

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Snippet one comes to me almost in a dream – that edge of wakefulness where you’re aware that you might still be dozing, but the solid feel of your own hand on your skin trips a neuron that reminds you of fucks-in-times-gone-by. In this cock-hungry fantasy, I’m face-down-ass-up on the carpet, in my bra and pants, covered in smears of paint. Someone’s got the crotch of my knickers hooked to one side with his thumb, and he’s sliding himself oh so slowly inside me, growling that I’m a dirty fucking girl.

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