I pulled the title for this from a line in this post, and I think it’s apt – this story absolutely aches and throbs with need. Sometimes I read erotica so good I realise I’m holding my breath. This is one of those pieces. No more intro, here’s @mudkri.

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This fabulous adventure with the Sex Scientist featuring a pink pussy pump is written by EL Byrne of Lustitude, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net. 

“If you order more stuff, look for some pussy pumping device,” his text read.

“You want me to order one if I find?” I typed, my mind already whirling with possibilities.

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This stunning tickling kink erotica is written and read by Molly Moore, and originally appeared on her website. 

He points at the bed.

“Lay down.”

It’s a request, not a command, but I take up his offer. The messages he had sent me earlier today gave me the distinct impression he had plans for me tonight. Not a punishment as such – we don’t play like that – but maybe ‘a lesson to learn’ is a better phrase.

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This fabulous fantasy about having someone hold you so another person can fuck your face is written by On Queer Street and originally appeared on his website. It’s read here by Girl on the Net. Note that it includes femdom with teasing and/or mind-fucking.

I play with your hair in public. My hand is on the back of your neck, possessively; you’re hyper-aware of my fingers, twisting through your soft curls. To anyone else it would look like a gesture of casual affection, but you know it’s a subtle display of my dominance. Your dick knows it too, already hard in your jeans. You shift uncomfortably, trying to distract yourself from your arousal and focus on the conversation around us.

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This gorgeous caring kink story is written by the Queer Earthling, and originally appeared on their site. It is read aloud here by My Wild Lens. Note that this story contains consensual pain play, nipple clamps, sensation play, kink honorifics including “Daddy,” passing mentions of caregiver-little dynamics, mentions of depression and stress.

Daddy says, “Let’s make it better.” It doesn’t matter what’s wrong, in this story. Maybe I slept badly, maybe I’ve just had a stressful day, maybe my constant low-level depression is creeping in again. But something is wrong, and I can’t quite pull myself out of it.

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