Tag Archives: flirting
Sinful delivery: Testing sex toys with her
This fabulous (and clever!) piece that turns testing sex toys into a super horny erotic scene is written and read by The Barefoot Sub.
The doorbell shrieked, cutting through the static of my empty head! I’d been staring at a blank screen for what felt like hours, the cursor blinking away on the screen as I wracked my brain, attempting to get the words out. Waiting for my local courier to drop off my sinful delivery, certain I was distracted by the pleasure to come. Surely this was it? Though the regular driver would usually leave it in my safe space. Jumping up, I went to see who it was.
“Sophie,” I beamed, “you decided to take me up on the offer of a cuppa? Your timing couldn’t have been better.”
Under the table touches: this guy has a wife
There are two levels on which I’m enjoying dinner. On the surface, the main conversation – catching up with friends I’ve not seen in years. Beneath the table, something even better – his thigh nudging against mine. The oh-so-casual initial pressure that could easily be written off as an accident conjures a flash of possibility as I realise that… yeah… this guy just might want to fuck me. A rush of teenage horn flushes across my skin as I decide that I’m gonna nudge him back to find out for sure. Meeting his pressure, thigh-against-thigh, I remind myself that this guy has a wife.
Guest blog: It turns out I’m not lust-proof
This week’s guest blogger has a happy story. One of those stories which makes me want to hug myself because a stranger found their joy. I’m really delighted to welcome Eddie to the blog, as he tells you how a Twitter crush taught him that – despite the bollocks he’s been fed by society about what might count as ‘desirable’ – he isn’t lust-proof after all.
I would, you would
The hottest thing about you – and please make sure you hear me all the way out, because at first glance it might sound dismissive – is that you want to fuck me. That’s it. The best fucking thing. The red-hot fire in the gusset of my knickers right now: I just know that you definitely would.
How did you know I was kinky?
When I was about twenty two, a friend of mine asked if I wanted to come to a fetish bar with her. This wouldn’t be a particularly unusual thing for someone to ask me, because I am a huge fan of both fetishes and bars. What made it odd, though, is that I’d never once had a conversation with her about kink. There were plenty of other people she knew better than she knew me, and we’d not once spoken about our own personal kinks. So how the fuck did she KNOW I was kinky?