For ages I’ve had it on my guest blog page that I’d love to read guest blogs that contain “eloquent disagreement/rebuttal of any of my own strong and angry opinions” but people rarely ever take me up on it. Maybe they think I will bite, which is unfair because honestly I usually prefer to be the one who gets bitten. BUT NOW I HAVE ONE! Rebuttal! Disagreement! And the hottest kind of disagreement, too! Imagine me rubbing my hands together with absolute glee today, because the fabulous @OxyFromSG (of ‘I sucked my own cock‘ fame, who also writes fabulous erotica as Alec Lake) is here with a guest post in defence of 69ing. The horny position in which two people are top-and-tail and going to town on each other’s genitals is also very often at the top of people’s lists of ‘overrated sex acts’, mine included. So I’m absolutely delighted (and thoroughly aroused) to have the chance to read his defence of the humble (or not-so-humble) 69….

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You know the drill by now: parts one and two had our free use secretary interviewed (and used) then working (and used). Part three is all about showing her off. In this section, she’s not just an executive office toy for her horny and demanding boss – in this part there are clients to impress. Note that this story contains some pretty aggressive misogyny (I have a kink for misogyny! Read that piece if you want to understand a bit more about the stories in this wank tales series), along with choking, free use, groping, casual sexual harassment, spitroasting, dodgy societal tropes about cock size and masculinity, unlubed (or barely lubed) anal and very dubious consent. It is not in any way a recommendation on how to treat people in real life, and should only ever be enjoyed in a safe and consensual playspace, such as inside your head. I am including the most specific and detailed content notes that I possibly can here, so hopefully absolutely no one who reads on will be taken by surprise by what transpires in this scene. As I say: consent in sex writing matters. What’s more, please understand: in real life I’d despise these men, and utterly abhor their behaviour. These fuckpuppets are characters I created – they only exist in my head and on this page. If you choose to invite them into your own head too, I’m going to assume you’re doing that on the full understanding that this is fantasy, not a recipe for real life.

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Let’s get this out of the way to start with: I am not foolish enough to believe I’m the first person ever to wonder what kinky sex is like in the Dark Materials universe. Specifically in Lyra’s world, one in which everyone has their own daemon – a creature with whom you share a connection, who accompanies you at all times, and essentially functions as an external manifestation of your soul. The second you create a world with such creatures, and moreover declare that it’s taboo to touch someone else’s, inevitably you’re going to prompt a generation of perverts to grow up wondering what it’d be like to have your lover’s snake-daemon wrapped around your throat while they rail you. I know I’m not the first to explore this horny avenue, and I certainly won’t be the last. But it’s fun to ponder the implications of a world in which a part of your soul manifests in the form of an animal which is both reflective of your personality yet physically distinct from your human body, and how that might lend itself to some outrageously hot fuckplay. Strap in, my friends, cos this is gonna get… how shall I put it? … bestial.

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This fabulous erotic fiction about deep throating the boss is written and read by Sherryl Blu. Note that this story plays with boss/employee power dynamics and includes some hints of reluctance.

I didn’t usually find myself in the lift with my boss first thing in the morning. He was either in before me or he came in after lunch. Never would we arrive at the same time. But this morning, it would appear we were synchronised.

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This erotic story about fucking the boss is written by Scorpio Appetites, and read by Girl on the Net. Note this story contains brief use of ‘daddy’ as an honorific.

‘Hey, who’ve I gotta fuck to get another beer over here?’ I smile sweetly at the customer and put another Stella on the counter. I’m wearing a checked shirt tied low enough to show a flash of black bra and as much cleavage as I can muster, and I enjoy feeling his drunken gaze rake over me. I drink his impotent desire like a shot of cheap whiskey. The two feet of bar between us may as well be a trillion miles.

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