Apropos of absolutely nothing, I’m going to tell you a story about this one time (ages ago) when I fucked the furniture. Specifically a bed. And technically, properly, I guess if you want to get right down to the nitty-gritty detail of the thing, it wasn’t just ‘me fucking a bed’, it was ‘us’. Because while I shagged the bed with my excellent and adventurous vagina, the man I loved was having a valiant go at simultaneously fucking me up the arse. Let’s do this.

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This gorgeous piece about yearning for anal play is written and read by Lou Kane and originally appeared on their website.

The sun had only just crested the horizon, its first butter-yellow rays invading the small bedroom D and I shared. My fingers were already at work. It was a standing rule that I was allowed to touch myself without asking permission if D was asleep; lately, I’d been pushing that rule to its outermost limit.

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[Ages ago I did a tweet that included a silly joke about wanting to bundle men up in a blanket and give them a hand job and a stern talking-to. Someone messaged me to say there might be some smut in that, so I had a go at writing some. I don’t know how good it is, just that I had fun writing it. It hinges on eroticisation of sexual shame (specifically masturbation shame), so please note I don’t actually think it is shameful to masturbate, obviously: wanking is one of my favourite hobbies. But shame is fun to kink, so that’s what I’m doing here.]

You promised you wouldn’t come while you were away. I was looking forward to all the spunk built up during my seven day absence – that thick, powerful brand of cum that thuds from your dick after a long period of denial and frustration. You promised me you wouldn’t come. And yet the second my flight had landed, I received a text from you letting me know that you failed.

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While I work on commissioning more guest audio, the usual guest audio porn slot will be filled with improv erotica: stories inspired by suggestions from Patreons, who have chipped in some amazing scenarios. They give me a name, a kink, a location and an object and I try to write these into fun pieces of horny flash fiction. This first piece is some hot exhibitionist erotica about getting fucked in a library – at the top of the story you can see the prompts which sparked it.

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We all know soaking is filthy, right? For the uninitiated, ‘soaking‘ is a sexual practice attributed to horny Mormons. The logic goes that having sex before marriage is forbidden, but it’s only technically – technically – sex if you actually move it in and out, so you’re allowed to put it in if you make sure to stay really still. Thus, horny Mormon couples who really really want to put it in do exactly that, then lie as still as they possibly can to ensure they don’t summon the wrath of the heavens.

This post is likely to be thoroughly blasphemous and probably offensive if you have religious sensibilities. It’s also going to embrace shame in a way that totally works for kink but does not work as the basis to build a society. Sex is not shameful, but shame makes things filthy. And soaking? Soaking is the filthiest thing since Genesis. 

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