This breathtaking story about a blow job in a sex cinema is written and read by Joy as it Flies. Note that this scene contains breath play and BDSM. 

I love sucking his dick. Jesus, I love sucking his dick. I love the taste of it, the feel of it, the way it fits between my lips, the dimensions of it perfect as it slides towards the back of my throat, awash with saliva. I love the rhythm of it – the change of pace as I move from active to passive, as we swap from me using my mouth to him using my mouth and back again. I do not love this man, I barely even know him, but I am utterly infatuated with the sensation of his dick resting on my tongue.

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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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This fantastic masturbation voyeur story is written by Quinn Rhodes, and originally appeared on hir website. A quick and important note from hir before we begin… “Writing this actually challenged me more than I expected it to, and it’s a little more cisnormative than I would like my filth to be. For the record, not only folks with dicks are guys, and not only men have dicks. I also realised that writing this kind of scene is very different from experiencing this sort of pervy voyeurism, so I’m open to invitations from anyone organising a cock-stroking and cocktails party.”

Your invitation gives you a time, an address, and invites you to a night of debauchery where you can ‘watch cocks being stroked while you sip cocktails’. Upon arrival, the invitation grants you admission to a narrow ballroom – or possibly a conference room – with a well-stocked bar on one side and a long two-way mirror down the other.

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I know how much you like watching your dick slide in. I know it because I love watching you, in turn: on your knees above me, your eyes downcast as you focus on sliding it slowly inside, occasionally glancing up to look at my reaction as each inch of your aching erection stretches and fills up my cunt. But you can never quite get the right angle, can you? You can never quite get your face close enough to see the detail – the wetness that clings to the skin of your cock, for instance. You never get to see it from a distance other than the exact length of your torso: no more, no less. What’s more, neither of us ever get to see it from behind – how the prominent ridge on the underside looks bold and hard and beautiful, like it does in porn. There’s a solution for that now, though, isn’t there?

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This true sex club story is written by sex blogger Molly Moore, and it originally appeared on her site. 

The room is dimly lit by a series of wall lights, every now and then the door to the outside opens and the room is flooded with daylight but then it closes again and the space returns darkens again. One end of the room is covered with floor to ceiling mirrors.

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