I am a total sucker for gorgeous hands. Not just the look of them or the feel of them grabbing me, I am mesmerised by watching people do things with their hands – precise, skilful things. Unngh. Today’s guest blog is by Fajolan, who has a breathtakingly gorgeous story about a date who used his hands to exceptional effect long before they ever got into bed…

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I was never really one for sexting, in the times Before Him. In recent years, the closest I’ve come to a horny text is sending a sext from the bedroom if I’m post-bath soft and wanting dick, or messaging to let him know that I’ve finished wanking and he’s welcome to come on up. One of the things that scares me about new encounters is – absurdly, bizarrely – the worry that they might need me to stretch my thumbs and engage in written conversation in between dates. Yeah, I know: I’m a sex blogger. I should be good at dating communication. But perhaps it’s the fact that I’m meant to be good at it that leads to so much dread. Where expectations run high, failure is almost guaranteed.

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This stunning guest blog, by @nookysemper, came out of an incredible thread she wrote a while ago which appealed strongly to my inner pervert, who loves the sexy noises people make when they’re horny. When she approached me to offer a guest blog, I asked if she could elaborate on that delightful ode to sexy noises, and voilà! Here’s her gorgeous post…

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One of my favourite pictures of myself is a fuzzy, terrible snapshot of half of my face: one black eye proudly displayed and my lips curled upwards in a filthy grin. It’s an old photo, taken on a phone that had something which could barely be described as a camera, but the picture reminds me of a very happy time.

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The following is an extract from Match, Cinder & Spark Volume 1: Nymphomania and the Single Girl – written by H.H. of MySexLifeWithLola.com. The audio is read here by Jupiter Grant. You can buy the full audio book on Audible (UK) or Audible (US).

I kissed lower, down to her firm six-pack abs and I was unsure of how far I should or would go, but when I kissed my way down to her lovely navel, I could smell her dripping sweetness from below – that lovely scent that I’ve missed. When my nose sensed – like an animal – her in heat, I knew that I couldn’t stop.

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