This deliciously hot erotic story is written and read by Tabitha Rayne. Note: in fantasy we can do things we wouldn’t in real life. Combining driving and sex is one of them. This is a dangerous activity and you should not do it . Obviously do wank about it though because this story is hot as hell.

He thinks we don’t do it enough. And by it, you know I mean sex. Bonking. Shagging. The glue that sets our relationship apart from all the other relationships in our lives. It’s true. We don’t. He might think we don’t, but I know we don’t. You know how it goes, a houseful of kids, pets, oldies, responsibilities, by the time we flop exhausted on to the sofa, barely enough energy to agree on a boxset, we’re fucked. And not in a good way.

So once every two months, I book us a very expensive room in a very expensive hotel. A different one every time. Some are sexier than others, but ALL are sexier than our own shabby messy bedroom, which is certainly not conducive to seduction in any form. How we ended up with all these damn kids is anyone’s guess.

So it’s time.

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I’ve spent far too long trying to come up with ideas to put a spin on this year’s Valentine’s Day post. I promise my lovely site sponsors I’ll do one every year, because Valentine’s Day is pretty big in the sex industry and it’s a good time to remind you of awesome products that you can buy to support my work. This year I’m struggling. Everything’s awful, isn’t it? Fascism, obviously. The latest tranche of Epstein emails. AI making it hard to know what’s real and what isn’t. Genocide. I get that this isn’t the most appropriate way to start a post about Valentine’s Day, but forgive me, it’s all I have. Everything is absolutely terrible, and it’s hard to write a jolly wrap or sexy little vignette designed to sell you sex toys in the shadow of all that.

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CN: drug use (weed). I don’t recommend drug use, and if I’m honest I’d always tell you that if you’ve never tried drugs and you don’t have a medical reason to do so, you should steer well clear. But I didn’t listen to this advice when I was young, so I enjoy drugs – often as part of sex. This is one of the things I like to do with them.

We like breath play and we also like getting high. The second part of that sentence means I definitely can’t put the audio of this post on Patreon, what with their rules about drugs being naughty and all. But it’s a good enough story that it’s worth telling anyway, because if you’re into weed and breath play too, you might enjoy this trick.

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This stunning piece is part 7 in a series written and read by Sundial. You can catch up on the rest of the Sunday series here, and you absolutely should because every single episode is fire. 

You’re thrusting your hips, my head clamped between your hands and you fuck me hard. Your dick stretching my mouth wide, saliva pooling on my chin, and I’m hyper aware of my discomfort. Knees pressed as they are against the cool, bare hardness of the floor and the angle you’re keeping me at. I’m neither able to sit back to my heels, nor properly rise. My balance is a mess and my thighs are straining.

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It’s late, and I’m tired. So tired, in fact, that I’ve just slept through the last twenty minutes of the film we were meant to be watching. You can’t blame me: it’s not often I get to snuggle up on a sofabed with my head in somebody’s lap, sinking into the duvet and enjoying the gentle, rhythmic stroke of their hand on my bottom and thighs. It is blissful. Beautiful. Like stepping into a shower that’s set to the perfect temperature, or hugging a loved one when you meet them off the train. I am safe, cosy, happy. This scene is tranquil as fuck, so you can’t blame me for falling asleep. I am also a horny bitch, though, so I hope you can also understand what happens next.

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