It’s Masturbation Month! Those of you who don’t work in the sex industry might not be familiar with it, although I’d wager if you’ve bought a sex toy at any point over the last 12 months you’ll have been reminded of this auspicious time with a well-placed marketing email or two. While I’d love to write a round-up of sex toys that you should buy, it’s always more fun for me to write hot stuff that features toys than a plain old shopping list. So instead of a shopping list, here are twelve filthy stories: each one either a true sex story or a piece of erotic fiction. If you can guess which of these are true, and leave your guesses in the comments, whoever gets closest to the right answer will win a GOTN badge. And if you fancy reliving these stories (or coming up with some of your own!) I’d very much appreciate you clicking the links, buying from my sponsors, and helping to support my work here on the site. Without these fabulous sponsor companies, GOTN wouldn’t exist.

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I want you to ruin my life. Take the weak, thumping jelly of my heart and just… fucking… eat it. Yank it out of my body and hold it high in both your hands and laugh as you sink in your teeth. I want you to ruin my life.

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The fabulous @EuphemiseThis has been kind enough to share lots of sexy adventures here on the blog. From getting spanked by a couple in their hotel room to her tryst with a burlesque goddess, velvet fetishes and forbidden fucks. I am honoured that she’s up for sharing this gorgeous story too – about getting invited to her first threesome. Frankly, after uploading this, I am envious. And also massively horny.

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Note: I wrote this one quite a while ago, and it happened even longer ago. 

His flat is filled with mirrors, which is helpful for two people who really love watching ourselves fuck. He plays Massive Attack at just the right volume, which is great for two people who really like fucking to Massive Attack. And as I hold myself up on the corner of the kitchen counter, one foot planted on the surface and another on the shelf nearby, holding my cunt at the perfect height for him to slam his cock home, he growls: “What do you say?” And I tell him, breathlessly, “thank you.”

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So this guy and I broke up, and I’m sad that we won’t get to play the bracelet game any more. Does that make me an arsehole? That upon breaking up with a good, kind man the thought which burns brightest in my mind isn’t guilt or soppiness but horny nostalgia? I don’t know. But as he said to me at the end, with characteristic grace: at least we were honest with each other. We were. I honestly wanted to shag him and get drunk and play Magic: the Gathering, he honestly wanted something more. I am, honestly, a bit of an arsehole right now.

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