Tag Archives: orgasm

Begging for cum: is it hot enough to be worth risking pressure?

There’s usually a moment during a fuck where I can sense a change in pace from the dude who is fucking me: a slight increase in speed, or a pause, that can mean he’s on the verge of coming. At this point, what I really want to do is start begging for cum. Tell him ‘please god yes fucking squirt your cum inside me.’ But it’s a pretty risky strategy.

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Guest blog: The virgin and the escort

I’m excited to welcome Ariadne this week, who is here to talk to you about discovering her sexual self with an escort. Since the age of 18, Ariadne had a condition called vaginismus, where the vaginal muscles contract in reaction to any kind of penetration. It is estimated that it affects 2 in every 1000 people, although it is still not commonly discussed. Ariadne’s post is about how her time with an escort helped her to discover sex she truly loved. Although not on Twitter, she is keen to help spread awareness around Vaginismus and would like to direct anyone who’d like to know more to The Vaginismus Network.

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And then we fuck

Bear with me, I’m rusty as fuck. Something I could have said equally to him as to you. It’s been a long long time since I wrote up a fuckstory that was about anyone other than my ex. So bear with me, please, I know I will not get this right.

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You win some, you lose some: a competitive threesome

This competitive threesome story, by Molly Moore, originally appeared on her website. It is read aloud here as audio by the author herself. 

We are sitting at opposite ends of the sofa facing one another. Our legs are entwined, our calves touching, her feet brushing up against the outside of my thigh. She is slightly taller than me. We are both completely naked apart from the collars. I see her glance down to between my legs and when she looks up and sees that I am watching her looking at me she blushes furiously.

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Nobody comes looking for me: solo masturbation

This poignant solo masturbation erotica is by Tabitha Rayne. Read here by the author herself, it originally appeared on her website. 

It’s been days, possibly a week or even two since I left this flat. Probably longer since I updated any sort of social media. My phone hasn’t rang and my door hasn’t been knocked. There’s no concerned notifications from my online friends.

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