Continuing the series of erotic fiction set on tube trains (I heart TfL), here’s some aching, surreptitious fucking on the Victoria Line. Note that this story is fiction. Don’t do it in real life. 

The carriage is already rammed by the time we get on – him, me, a few friends. All of us slightly tipsy from the gig, but eager to continue the night back home in Walthamstow. Home, where the booze has been pre-bought from Tesco and we don’t have to queue behind Gen Z amateurs at the bar. The train is packed by the time we get on but we squeeze down to the end of the carriage anyway. When someone gets up to push past us, in deference to his ever-present backache I offer my boyfriend the seat. Then, because my feet are hurting and I’m a little bit pissed, I sit on his lap.

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This incredible account of getting used in a hot tub is written and read by Robyn, of Robyn Eats Everything, and originally appeared on their website. 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that single men at a sex club are always down to fuck around in a hot tub. So yes, I knew exactly what I was doing when I slid my fishnet body stocking off and stepped down into the warm, bubbling water; I wanted to be fucked around with.

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This gorgeous piece on wanting to wank about you is written and read by Robyn of Robyn Eats Everything. 

Please, can I wank about you? Over you? To you? Thinking of you, and us together, and you alone? Remembering all the dirty, delicious things you’ve done to me and imagining all the sex that’s to come? Looking at all the photos and videos and messages you’ve sent to me, knowing full well what they’d make me do?

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This gorgeous erotic fiction about a tryst in the changing rooms is written and read by Euphemise This, and originally appeared on her website.

Michaela fucking hated clothes shopping, with a passionate hatred usually only reserved for Tories, but she resigned herself to the fact that she couldn’t put it off any longer. The event was in two days and it could potentially provide her with a massive career boost as long as she made a good impression with the right people. She was initially reluctant to admit it, but the entire contents of her wardrobe were completely unsuitable for this task.

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“Every time I come round,” my new boyfriend notes, “you have different dicks all over the place.” That’s right! I know how to impress a gentleman. Most of the time, the only sex toys that’ll be on display around my flat are my staple wank tools: one dildo, a wand and a couple of different bullet vibes that I swap in and out depending on which one is charged. But lately I’ve been branching out – dusting off some of the other things from my collection so I can mix up my masturbation even more. I could try and tell him that it’s because I’ve a discerning vagina like Epiphora or that I’m a wise and serious reviewer like my colleague Amy of Coffee and Kink. But the truth is, as always, far grubbier than that: I have loads of sex toys around the place because at the moment I’m so horny that if I don’t mix up my wanking tools I am liable to turn my clit numb from experiencing the same sensation over and over again. Picture the scene: a carnage of cocks, each one becoming obsolete within a couple of days of use because I’ve got NRE and I’m so aflame with excitement that I’m wanking four or five times a day. Desperately switching between rumbly bullets, buzzy ones, thudding wands and rabbit vibes just to try and surprise my junk into wringing one more orgasm from a body that has already been thoroughly rinsed. Now understand how grateful I was when my site sponsors Whipple Tickle sent through this rose vibe clit toy: a sex toy that provides a genuinely new sensation with which none of my other toys can compete. Hallelujah! A change really is as good as a rest!

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