I did my hair nicely today. I wanted you to love the way it looks so much you’d grab a fistful and yank my head in for a biting kiss. I feel pretty today, I made myself pretty today. And I only did it because I want you to fuck me up.

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We’re having a conversation about kinks. The fun things we’d like to try (or try again), and the ways in which we’d like to tear into each other. This is the kind of foreplay I really love: talking. Talking is my kink. Hearing someone tell me what they’re into – whether confident statements or shy suggestions – gets me hotter than anything else. So we’re having a conversation about kinks, and he tells me he wants to tear off my clothes.

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There are two types of people in this world: those who unwrap their gifts with care and precision, trying not to shred the paper as they go, and those who tear into it with eager, gleeful joy, destroying the wrapping in their haste to get to the gift. If you’re the second type of person, this Christmas erotica is for you.

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This is an erotic fiction story I wrote while I was on holiday. A holiday during which I went for a lot of long walks across some very muddy terrain, so inevitably over the course of these walks I nurtured a fairly detailed fantasy about getting dressed up in my best clothes, then utterly trashed by a horny guy who pushed me into the mud and fucked me. So yeah: this is a story about getting fucked in the woods, with a heavy emphasis on how messy and trashed you’d be at the end of it.

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