This week’s anonymous guest blogger has visited before, to tell an astonishingly hot story about watching his girlfriend cheat on him (seriously, check it out, it’s amazing). Today he’s back with a story about a delicious encounter that happened during a time when he’d given up on any sexual encounters at all. Those who read this blog a lot will understand why I’m so into it (cough ‘good girl‘ cough), and why I’m so delighted that he’s chosen to share his tale of fucking a good girl after a long period of abstinence…

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I stumble in the front door, drenched to the skin from a long and glorious cycle through central London, fighting the downpour and dodging past Boris bikes, punk tunes blasting into my left ear. Exhausted and satisfied and aching all over: my cunt hurts from getting well and truly fucked. As I walk in, I’m accosted by my conscience, who is as steaming angry as I am post-fuck happy, with the words ‘you fucked your ex’ on its lips.

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Music and memories: some songs have such a powerful connection to certain memories that I cannot hear them without getting horny. Or sad. Or excited about someone I haven’t seen for years. I’ve talked before about what music can do – from putting you off shagging if a terrible track comes off on a sex playlist to making me want to use your cock just cos I did so the last time this song came on. Today, I’m delighted to welcome back an incredible guest blogger – @OxyFromSg who writes erotica with Phedre Sinclair at this blog right here. Here in my little corner of the internet, Oxy has already delighted us with tales of DIY gloryholes and weird wanks – to share some hot memories, and the music that helps bring them out.

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Weirdly, when I first experienced the indescribably brilliant, fuck-me-to-the-brink-of-death-and-beyond power of the Doxy, it didn’t occur to me to ask for something that would pump that power into my cunt. I was happy enough just fucking my Doxy as it was – using the throbbing rumble of the mighty original Doxy on my clit. Latterly I’ve been content to let those powerful waves travel through the flesh of my pubic mound, into the internal walls of my vagina, where they meet up with the Godemiche ambit dildo like two dudes meeting me on the Piccadilly line and then DP-fucking me in the lift at Covent Garden. What a complete twat I feel now, having experienced the power of Doxy inside my cunt, to never have thought to ask for it before.

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This delightful voyeurism story, by Molly Moore, originally appeared on her website. It is read aloud here as audio by the author herself. One of the people in the story uses the word ‘Daddy’ as an honorific, but all participants are consenting, not related, and over the age of 18.

I hadn’t been out long, twenty minutes or maybe half an hour but it was dark by the time I got home. I plonked the few bits I had gone to the shop for on the side in the kitchen and listened. It seemed rather quiet, too quiet really and when I went round to the front room the sofa was empty. When I had gone out they had been sitting together on the sofa. That is where I had left them and it hadn’t entered my head they wouldn’t still be there when I got home.

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