This incredible edging erotica is written by David of The Big Gay Review, and originally appeared on his website. It is read aloud here by Luke. 

I’m impatient. I am the type of person who will obsessively watch their tracking emails as soon as they get a dispatch notification. I’m always rushing ahead from A to B because I just can’t stand waiting. I’m the same with my orgasms. I want them quick, fast and lazy where possible. So the idea of being edged honestly does not appeal, personally.

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This gorgeous fictional lesbian adventure story is written by Isabelle Lauren, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Carolyna Luna.

By the time I make it through customs I’m a nervous wreck. This was a bad idea. Meeting a random stranger I met on the internet for a weekend of no-consequences fun. I mean, I used to do that when I was in university, but that was twenty years ago. I’m a lot older now – and my body bears the marks. Of course it’s insanity to travel halfway across the world to be fucked by a stranger. But she’s not just a stranger. We’ve been chatting online for a year and she has become a close friend. There’s no one I’d rather have my first lesbian adventure with than her.

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This bored and ignored scenario is the next in the wank tales series, which I tried to write up to balance out some of the more aggressive and brutal ones. There’s still a lot of desperation/urgency in this one, but way more consent. In the spectrum of what I tend to find hot, this is at the cutest end. 

I’m reading a book. It doesn’t need to be an erotic book, and in fact it’s probably better if it isn’t. Just a book that I’m really absorbed by: perhaps a re-read of one of my favourite page-turners or something brand new by an author I adore. I’m lying across the bed on my stomach with my nose buried in a Kindle. He comes in and lies next to me on the bed.

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We’ve been chatting on Patreon lately about dating, and today someone asked me what I was looking for. I thought I’d spell it out for you, in the form of a little poem.

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Stoya calls them ‘comets’: those people who orbit your life at a distance, occasionally blazing into it for brief yet bright moments of sexy joy, before whooshing off back to their own. I don’t think it’s always easy to be a great comet – it requires a tricky balance of charm and composure. You need the ability to connect well in a short space of time combined with a casual detachment that allows you to say a cheery goodbye without worrying you’ll be forgotten the second you’re out of sight. I think it’s tough to be a good comet, but let me tell you about a brilliant one of mine.

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