I could show you how to fuck me till I come, if you really want me to. You don’t need to perform or practice or keep an eye out for the sexy faces I make, reading them like I’m an ancient text you need to try and decipher. If you want to fuck me till I come, I can show you. (more…)

Lockdown plays havoc with my horn, and I know I’m not alone. A brief survey of ‘most people I know’ tells me most of us are struggling with very weird lockdown libido. Sometimes we’re numb to the very idea of sex, and wanking feels so alien that we wonder how we could ever have stomached touching our own genitals before. At other times we’re climbing the walls, wanking twelve times a day then yelling BRING ME MORE FUCK like some sex-starved Henry VIII.

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I’m really delighted to welcome back @OxyFromSg (whose erotica you can find at Oxy And Phedre’s Sinful Stories) – a prolific guest blogger who has written stunning posts before on music and sexual memories, making a DIY gloryhole and (my personal favourite) sucking his own cock. Today his post is more topical, focusing on Covid and libido. A total drop in libido was one of the things that alerted him to the fact that something was wrong…

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As a connoisseur of jizz, I am always intrigued by what jizzers think of their own ejaculate. Some of the guys I’ve been with have been very happy indeed to taste their own spunk during a post-blowjob kiss, while others seem a bit unsure of it. So when today’s guest blogger got in touch to offer a post about the first time he tasted his own spunk, naturally I was very excited to hear from someone who could give a personal opinion on their own unique emissions. Also, you know, it’s really really hot to read about people tasting their own jizz. I assume you agree, or you probably wouldn’t be here. Take it away, Mr Big…

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This intensely hot story about a bridesmaid degrading herself is written by Kate, and originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Girl on the Net, and it contains themes of degradation.

“He’ll never love you,” she said weakly to her reflection – a vision with puffy red eyes and crumbs of mascara peppered around them like funereal glitter. Her flushed chest matched the crimson hue of her eyelids. The bridesmaid’s dress, which had once held her like a lover and accentuated the curve of the arse that the groom had fucked the night before his engagement party, now hung a little less naughtily, gaping where her hunched shoulders diminished the volume of her breasts, threatening to be exposed by the dress, that was now sizes too big.

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