Regular readers might remember a post I wrote a while ago called ‘why you should let me borrow your boyfriend.’ It was tongue-in-cheek but so far has yielded some pretty spectacular results. Not only some awesome hot fun for me, but also some fruitful (i.e. ‘horny’) discussion with others that eventually led to this guest blog. Please welcome today’s guest blogger, Max, who is here to tell you about how his wife lent him to her best friend to fulfil her sexual needs…

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This gorgeous true sex story is written by E L Byrne of Lustitude, and is read aloud here by Sherryl Blu. 

I can hardly explain how it had been almost two years since we had seen each other. Two years since our flesh has touched, since I’ve heard his crazy laugh in person, since his lips touched mine, since we did incredibly delicious erotic things to one another. I mean the whole world knows why, but it just didn’t compute in my head. Then I saw him. (Insert big sigh here) What a wonderful feeling after all this unintended time away, neither our dynamic, our companionship, nor our attraction had waned. It was as strong as ever, and I can admit to feeling a total resurgence of my crush on him. Enjoying all the little “oooh” moments again. It’s been lovely.

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Did you know this week is Autism Awareness Week? And tomorrow (2nd April) is World Autism Awareness Day. To mark it, @HowlieT has dropped by with a kickass, funny, informative guest blog about sex on the autism spectrum. So whether you are on the spectrum yourself, or you’re shagging someone who is, she has some top tips on things you might want to think about to make sure your banging equals a banging time for both of you.

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This gorgeous caring kink story is written by the Queer Earthling, and originally appeared on their site. It is read aloud here by My Wild Lens. Note that this story contains consensual pain play, nipple clamps, sensation play, kink honorifics including “Daddy,” passing mentions of caregiver-little dynamics, mentions of depression and stress.

Daddy says, “Let’s make it better.” It doesn’t matter what’s wrong, in this story. Maybe I slept badly, maybe I’ve just had a stressful day, maybe my constant low-level depression is creeping in again. But something is wrong, and I can’t quite pull myself out of it.

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The thing I love about you, my dear, is your passion. You fight for the things you believe in. I love the way you refuse to give in to men who patronise or bully you. You’re a strong woman, you know that? And if there’s one thing people say about me, it’s that I’m a man who loves strong women.

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