Tag Archives: fun sex
Being used: the other side of the story
“Let’s get some dick in you.”
There are two ways I can tell this story. If you’ve not read the sexy version then pop over and read that before you look at this one – I suspect it won’t have quite the same effect if you read them the other way around. I’ve been wanting to do this ‘two versions’ thing for a while, because it’s as honest an answer as I can find to a very frequently asked question: is what you write true?
It is. But storytelling, like sex, is often about the angle.
The underwater blow job: breathe in
The following piece discusses submersion in water, in a BDSM context (well, it’s called ‘underwater blow job’ so you probably know that already). Please don’t read if that’s likely to disturb you. And if you’re thinking you want to do this kind of thing – read up on the risks and discuss in a lot of detail with your partner first.
“We’ll get you a nose clip.”
That’s not where it started; that’s where it started getting serious. When the desire for water – pressure, fear – grew from a small spark of interest to a roaring fire of obsession.
I wanted him to fuck my face underwater.
Risky sex: don’t try this at home
Today I’m obsessed with risky sex. The kind that gets your heart hammering in time to the thud of your crotch, as you fuck with a nebulous yet oh-so-urgent deadline. Get it over with before the others find you.
Risky sex. Like the snatched gropes you have in crowded places, or the slightly-more-than-that which teenagers do on the bus.
Sex you have not because you’re too horny to get a room, but because the thrill of being discovered makes it all feel more illicit.
Something that’s better than bath sex
I don’t really like fucking in the bath, although one day I’ll tell you about the most successful bath sex I ever had – long, teasing and achingly slow in a hard way: each stroke like a punishment, which came with a splash of water. The delicious, almost-but-not-quite drowning sensation as my mouth and nose slipped below the water line.
Today, though, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is lie in the bath with the radio on, sink into bubbles and warmth, and have him sit beside me with his fingers in my cunt.
This is what we did the other day.
This is now what I want to do every day.
Until I die or, more realistically, get bored of it – I’m far too jaded now to think anything’s forever.
First time anal sex: how not to do it
Someone found my blog the other day by searching ‘first time anal.’ It’s quite common, this ‘first time’ thing, and it comes up a lot in search. ‘My first anal’ or ‘her first facefuck’, like someone’s researching an incredibly explicit series of picture books. Anyway, the search prompted me to think about first times, and it occurred to me that while there are a few first times in my book, I’ve not actually written about ‘my first anal fuck’ before. Mainly because… well… it wasn’t particularly sexy.
The first time I had anal sex was down to 50% curiosity (me) and 50% ‘you’re on your period so how about we…?’ (him). Please forgive him for this – we were both young and silly, and he was still getting over the slight horror that came from discovering that menstrual blood sometimes has chunks in. If I met a guy these days who assumed that buttsex was the only possible option while I was bleeding, I would kick him out on his arse, but back then it was not considered weird for him to ask, and I think he was bored of me practising blow jobs.
Besides, I was very keen on the idea. I was still in the kid-in-a-sweetshop phase of sex, wanting to try every new thing I’d heard of to see if it worked for me.
It didn’t.
Just writing that seems a bit strange, because now anal is one of my favourite things. So what went wrong?