I spotted that this week’s Kink of the Week topic was ‘hunting/chasing prey’ and realised with utter delight that I had a half-finished draft which I could polish off for it. So here goes: a fuck in which I get to revel in the idea of being ravished by a predator. Note that this story contains a tiny bit of implied non-consent (but it is consensual) and also some barely-lubed anal (which I’d recommend against in real life, even though it’s hot in fantasies because in fantasies you can pretend that spit would totally work). 

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The following post is going to describe some intense facefucking. It’s all consensual, I love having my face fucked. But not everyone likes it, of course, and many people will find this sort of thing terrifying. As with all fuckplay, the more intense you want to be the more groundwork you need to do: discussing limits and preferences with your partner and establishing ways to withdraw consent if things get too much. Now let’s talk about how red-hot the double-tap is. 

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I was introduced to today’s guest blogger, Clara (@author_dunn on Twitter) by another incredible writer, who popped up in my DMs singing the praises of Clara’s cunt-dripping filth. And they were right: her filth is absolutely glorious, I adore it. There’s a softness to the feelings that surround the intensity and directness of the actual fucking, and that kind of writing presses so many of my buttons. I loved it so much I have another piece from Clara coming up in a few weeks too. For now, enjoy this delicious story about birthday sex, Harry Styles and soundtracks to (not) fall in love to…

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As a general rule I never have enough confidence in my own music taste to recommend what I like to other people. Most of my partners have preferred me to uncritically subsume their own playlists rather than contribute suggestions of my own: they rarely ever let me pick the music. As a result, not only am I suffused with a vague sense of embarrassment when talking about music, I have rarely spent much time actively seeking out new bands. But recently I found a band who make my heart swell with joy, and their latest album gave me powerfully horny ideas. I hope they will forgive me for taking this to such an X-rated place, but I’m gonna talk about Solid Gold by Holy Moly & The Crackers: the fuckiest album I have heard in a very long time.

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This bored and ignored scenario is the next in the wank tales series, which I tried to write up to balance out some of the more aggressive and brutal ones. There’s still a lot of desperation/urgency in this one, but way more consent. In the spectrum of what I tend to find hot, this is at the cutest end. 

I’m reading a book. It doesn’t need to be an erotic book, and in fact it’s probably better if it isn’t. Just a book that I’m really absorbed by: perhaps a re-read of one of my favourite page-turners or something brand new by an author I adore. I’m lying across the bed on my stomach with my nose buried in a Kindle. He comes in and lies next to me on the bed.

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