Dirty little secret time, people: I have a kink for misogyny. An intense, horny, fucked-up passion for men who will treat me like shit. And before I delve into some of my more detailed treat-me-like-shit fantasies, I wanted to do some preamble to explain why this is only ever hot when I’m playing life on ‘sandbox’ mode. What’s horny in my mind and during roleplay is actively horrifying in real life. In case it wasn’t screamingly obvious: that’s why it gets me really wet.

Note that this post includes examples of violent misogyny, non-consent and rape – both the fantasy versions (hot!) and real-life ones (not!). 

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I’m delighted to welcome Emory Oakley to the guest slot today! Emory is a queer trans man who writes fantastic educational content about gender and sexuality over on his blog. He got in touch with a pitch about dating while trans, specifically about how getting hit on by a gay man validated his trans identity. I’m really honoured that he’s up for sharing his story here, and if you’d like to find out more do click the links to some of the other fantastic pieces he’s written elsewhere on all the details of his journey in learning about how own identity.

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It’s that time of year again! February! The bit just before the 14th when everyone’s telling you to buy sex toys. Instead of just telling you to buy stuff, I am going to share with you some horny ideas for Valentine’s Day, then tell you that if you like those ideas you’re welcome to reward me by giving me good girl points clicking the links and buying cool things from the companies which sponsor this website. There are some amazing companies on the list (porn! Audio porn! Sex toys!), and my horny ideas are all ones you and a partner (or two, or three, or four) can put into practice with (I hope) relatively little effort, and either low cost (all but one are less than £50) or completely free. Don’t say I never treat you right. And even if you’re not in the market to buy, I hope you’ll enjoy these mini porn stories anyway. I had a super horny time writing them.

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The other day, I fell for a stranger. I choose my words here carefully. ‘Fell for’, not ‘fancied’ or ‘desired’. ‘Fell’, like you would if you slipped on a banana skin. Fall as in pratfall. But also fall as in ‘fail’. Perhaps this fall wasn’t a trip or a stumble (cue laughter track) but something more dismal, like a ‘fall’ off the edge of a cliff in a climactic episode of Eastenders. When I told this story to friends over WhatsApp, with a winky face and what I thought was a killer punchline, half of them reacted with sympathy. One asked if it was meant to be funny or sad. It was meant to be funny, but I guess if that isn’t obvious I should ponder why my friends are responding to the comedy of my life like it’s a tragedy. Maybe I should look a little closer. Let me tell you a story about falling for a man I’ve never met.

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This gorgeous story – ‘Beg me’ – was written by David of The Big Gay Review. It is read here by Luke. 

I’m bent over the dining table, my arse framed by the thick nylon straps of my jock. I sway my hips, wriggling my butt in his direction. He gets up, and runs his hand over my smooth, hairless cheek. I reach back and run my hand over the growing bulge in his jeans. His button pops open, allowing me to slip my hand inside and feel the warmth of his cock radiating through his boxers.

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