Tag Archives: oral
Blow jobs that end with them coming in my mouth
This gorgeous ode to blow jobs is written by Quinn Rhodes of OnQueerStreet, and read here by Matt Johnson.
I love sucking dick – and love it with a passion that might make me feel like a bad feminist or queer if agency is not very feminist and if dicks could not be very queer. Some memorable blow jobs in the twelve months have involved my partner coming in my mouth, a circumstance that is often a delicious assertion of dominance.
Sometimes I like to suck cock as self-care
When I’m feeling shitty, I like to suck cock. One of the most frustrating things for me about not having a live-in partner any more (if you discount the fact that, you know, I miss him terribly) is that there’s no easy-access dick to suck when I’m feeling unloveable and down.
Guest blog: Adrenaline, squirting and hot après-ski
I don’t know why I feel it’s important to tell you this is a true story. Perhaps because I find things even hotter if they’re true. Perhaps because I like to dream that I, one day, might be rescued by a hot dude and then seduced so skilfully he has me laid flat and breathless with lust somewhere. Either way, this is a true story by Leda Marshall about an extremely hot après-ski experience, and it had me weak with horn. Enjoy!
Gangbanged – he fulfils her cock-hungry fantasy
This fabulous story about getting gangbanged is written and read by Ariadne Awakes. Note: everything that happens to the narrator is pre-planned and entirely consensual.
Each time I hear another pair of footsteps entering wherever it is that he’s handcuffed me, my heart skips another beat and my clit throbs. They don’t speak, but I can feel the air charged with their need, their smell, their lust.
The scent of period blood makes me horny
There, I said it. And I apologise in advance, because usually I like to lean in to Halloween a little at this time of year – write a story in which I try to scare you. Something about zombies or werewolves or vampires or sirens luring unsuspecting humans into bringing them fresh prey. But this year, my plans for a story about sex-hungry ghosts or demonic possession went awry. Something malevolent took up residence in my brain, its claws embedded firmly in the part that deals with writing, refused to let me conjure one of those stories. So instead you get this: a pretty standard blog post about why the scent of period blood makes me really horny.
CN: this post contains blood, violence and some elements of non-consent. No men were harmed in the writing of it.