She missed his wall; his hall. That place he always threw her against when she came into his apartment.
She missed feeling small and afraid. She’d grown up too much, become too jaded, too brave to feel so little.
She missed the anxiety and hunger she felt walking down his block. She missed his pretty cock. She missed the fear that was particular to being in his elevator.
The fear wasn’t about what he’d do to her, she knew he would hurt her and fuck her and use her like a doll. The fear was that she wouldn’t be good enough, tough enough, pretty enough.
All those fears went away when she was against his wall.
She didn’t cover her scars or chubby parts because he would only slap her hands away. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed about her razor burn or that her roots were showing, because she was too busy blushing about the dirty names he called her. She would fall into the whirlpool of humiliation and pleasure and dizzy confusion.
She didn’t have time to apologize because his cock was in her mouth.
She longed for all of it all.
And more than that she knew some other girl was in that hall, against that wall. His thick cock was inside of someone new and his hand was around someone else’s throat.
Perhaps it was strange that the longing could make her come so easily. Remembering that wall in that hall was almost as potent as thinking of another girls face, mascara running down her cheek, pressed against the wall as he fucked her. The humiliation and the jealousy and the heartbreak were poisons and aphrodisiacs.
The sadness kept her wet all day.
She lay in bed when I walked in, the blankets around her waist and her hair a tangle on the pillow.
“I couldn’t sleep. I kept picturing you with her.”
“I’m home now,” I said, pulling off my tie and hanging my suit up in the closet. It was the most I could offer.
“I don’t like it. You shouldn’t leave me alone. Ever.”
“Should I just stay here in bed with you? For ever and ever?” I climbed naked beneath the covers and wrapped her in my arms. She backed up against me and clenched my fingers in her hand as she pulled me close.
“Yes. For ever and ever. Except when you go make coffee in the morning. Or order food. And maybe shower on occasion. No smelly boys allowed.”
“And what will you do with me all that time?” I asked, my body moving slowly against her. She reached one hand between us and took me firmly in hand, rubbing the head of my cock between her legs. I was barely hard, but she turned just enough to kiss me.
“I’ll make you fuck me. Just like this, with your arms around me as you promise to stay.”
And then I was inside her, and I would have promised anything. She sighed and pushed back against me as we moved slowly in the dark room. I kissed her neck and pulled on her hip bone, needing to be farther inside her than was ever possible.
“I promise,” I whispered, turning her head and kissing her lips once more. “We’ll never leave. We’ll never stop, and we’ll never get out of bed again.”
“And you have to make me come. A lot.”
My hand moved between her legs as she arched her back. Her thighs parted as my fingers found her, even as my other hand moved to her throat. I thrust faster and deeper, pulling her to me in so many ways. Her breath grew ragged and quick, and with each moan she moved closer and closer to the edge.
“When I get to five,” I whispered, letting go of her just long enough for her to catch her breath. “When I get to five you can come for me.”
She bit her lip and clenched around my hand and cock. I whispered the words in her ear, and by the time I reached three she was sobbing as her body shook and trembled. When I finally released her she screamed into the pillow; my privileged ears devoured every sound she made.
“I’ll always be here,” I whispered over and over again. “Always.”
Confession: My favourite piece of erotic literature is “The Princess and the Tiger” By Hanne Blank. It’s about a woman who fucks a tiger. The story is written with great attention to detail and it shocked me how much it turned me on, especially the parts about the tigers rough tongue. It’s a wild fantasy, and exceptionally well written. And it makes me blush to admit how much I liked it (which is the hallmark of good erotica, no?)
Art by Apollonia Saintclair:412 - 20130924 Les hautes herbes (Another John Barleycorn)
My favourite writer wrote about my favourite kink… excuse me while I masturbate to infinity.
“Is it strange that I call you Daddy when you’re old enough for it to be true?”
She was sitting on my lap in just a t-shirt and I was still dressed from work, my suit only slightly wrinkled from a long day. I had one hand on her thigh and her lips were nuzzled against my ear as she whispered quietly.
“I would have been rather young,” I said, turning her mouth to me with one hand before kissing her. I sucked her tongue between my lips and for a moment I wanted to swallow her whole. She wiggled and squirmed on my lap as she struggled to straddle me.
“But it could still be true. And…”
I pulled her to me, my cock now pressing against her bare cunt through my suit pants. I was painfully hard, and she was so wet I could smell her. I pushed her hair behind one ear before wrapping my fingers around her throat. She looked at me with perfect blue eyes turned down.
“And it just makes me want you more, Daddy.”
It didn’t take long for my zipper to open, her hand to find me, and her cunt to swallow me. It didn’t take long for me to kiss her again, to pull her hips to me until our pelvic bones collided, and then to bite her neck as my fingers squeezed harder.
“It makes me want you too,” I whispered. “As if I needed a reason to want you more.”
And then I let her go so she could gasp into my mouth and kiss me between tears of joy and release. I lifted her up and down, moving her body with ease as we fucked, and we never once stopped staring into each other’s eyes. Her cunt was so tight, and her mouth was unforgiving. She clenched around me and I thrust harder, wanting to fill her over and over again.
“I love you,” she whispered, her orgasm sliding up her body until it slipped out between her lips.
“I love you too,” I moaned, exploding inside her. “I love you too.”
(Image by Dominic von Stösser.)
Guuuuuuuys. Look at it!! It’s reallllll.
Sweetheart is a collection of erotica for a mature, kink-positive audience. Consisting of 25 vignettes which explore everything from petplay to spankings to threesomes, Sweetheart is an e-book best read with one hand.
To support the project and pre-order the e-book, click here.
For excerpts, click here.
Signal boost! I have a soft spot in my heart for good smut, can’t wait to read every word. <3
When I read I fold down the corners of the pages I want to come back to, passages I want to revisit or share. “I went somewhere very young and very hidden and very difficult to articulate,” I read it and rejoiced in the fact that I knew exactly what the author meant. I too have been in that place.
"The best moments in reading are when you come across something- a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things- that you’d thought special, particular to you, And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met, maybe even someone long dear. And it’s as if a hand has come out, and taken yours." -The History Boys
The book is Daddy’s Girl by Stella Black. And there were many pages with folded-down corners by the time I was done.
Sensory overload. <3
The problem with equality is how easy it is to sacrifice ecstasy.
The other morning I tried to please her as she tried to please me, and while both of us were pleased, it was far too easy. She wrapped her hands around me as I kissed her neck and searched between her legs. I pulled her on top of me as she rubbed me against her wet skin. We both sighed and moaned, but our breathing was slow and our eyes were open.
And then suddenly she covered my head with her shirt and I paused. She wrapped it tightly around my eyes, and in my moment of wonder everything changed. She pushed my hands to my sides, and for the first time all morning I felt her skin against me. I relaxed my feet, and stopped struggling. I closed my eyes and gave in.
Then it was her hair on my skin. Her fingertips touched my lips and scraped down my neck to my chest. Once I stopped, I could feel the head of my cock rubbing against her, and her teasing was painful and glorious all at the same time. It was a constant struggle to keep still, but the more I gave in the stronger it became.
When she touched my cock I nearly jumped off the bed. She rubbed her thumb over the head, and my hips bucked against my will. My muscles shook, and I could feel her breath. She wrapped one hand around me as the other slowly circled, and she pressed her fist hard against my body, pushing down against my pelvic bone. For a moment I wasn’t sure if it was her tongue touching me, but when her lips closed I screamed out in laughter.
Where did that come from?
I didn’t have time to think as my body trembled. She moved so slowly, that every emotion rose from the base of my spine, through my stomach and chest, until they came out through my lips in sighs, giggles, and tears. Her tongue made me cry, her fingers gasp, and when she pressed me against her chest I was madly in love with everything.
Her speed increased, and she pressed down on my chest with one hand. My heart pushed against it, and the muscles in my legs began to convulse. Her fist began to move up and down my shaft, tightening at the base, and barely touching me at the top. I found my breath was gone, and all I could see was red. I bit my lip as everything pushed down into my thighs, and the tears poured down my face. I clenched my ass, pushed into her hand, and turned my head trying to escape. My fists were clenched so tightly my palms were screaming in pain.
And then suddenly my tears became laughter and everything let go. My legs twitched, my hips bucked, and I came for a hundred years. I arched my back, my chin reaching up towards the sky as everything spilled from my body, and I couldn’t control a thing. I laughed and groaned, and she never once stopped.
Even once my body was drained the spasms shot through me. Even as she held me, whispering her own amazement, my muscles released over and over again until finally I could once again open my eyes.
“You should let me do that more often,” she said as she pulled the shirt from my head and kissed my tears.
“I’m not sure I’d survive it.”
“I don’t know how you could live without.”
I wrapped my arms around her, kissed her face, and thought about absolutely nothing at all.
—Guy New York
Read this. (You’re welcome.)
I woke up on Sunday morning in Craftsmate’s bed to the feeling of him tightening the ropes around my wrists. Somehow, the night before, I had agreed to sleeping tied up. Except instead of sleeping with my arms tied behind my back or in front, I wound up with my arms tied at my sides, attached to a crotchrope with a knot that pressed into my clit, preventing me from forgetting its presence.
We had established, sometime during the evening, that I was a selfish brat. Or, rather, I was told that I was a selfish brat who couldn’t control herself. Hence, the crotchrope, the hands tied to inhibit touching, the nagging push of the knot as a cruel little joke.
When he had finished tightening the rope around my wrists and ensuring that I would not be able to let myself out, Craftsmate climbed off of the bed and went to sit down at his desk. As he slid off the mattress, I became attune to the throb of my clit and realized the effect of the crotchrope on my sleeping body had left me inconsolably needy.
“I think it would be a nice idea if you came here and touched me,” I said playfully, wriggling a bit in the rope and feeling the knot rub over my clit.
Craftsmate shook his head. “You said nothing until you finished your thesis chapter.”
“I changed my mind,” I huffed. “Come here. Please?”
He didn’t budge.
I kept pressing, but I couldn’t get him to come over. My hips had started to pick up a slight thrust and I was trying to keep myself from grinding the crotchrope right in front of him, but I could only hold out so long. Eventually, my pleas for him to come touch me turned into begging him to use me and finally dissolved into me saying all I wanted was his attention, I didn’t care how it looked.
Amused, Craftsmate came over and teased the tip of his finger over the crotchrope. “I don’t think so. Maybe your Daddy lets you be a little princess and get away with this kind of stuff, but you’re entirely too spoiled and you’re not getting what you want this time.” I blushed at the mockery in his voice.
“Please,” I gasped out, “please I’ll do whatever you want.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think you get to cum until you’re a good girl for me and not some selfish brat.”
After a round with Craftsmate’s riding crop and a rather humiliating inspection of my cunt, which had become so wet that it had soaked straight through my panties and drenched the knot of my crotchrope, I was sent off with assurance that my poor conduct would no longer be tolerated.
And, much to my chagrin, an order to keep my hands off of my dully throbbing cunt until my behavior improved.
(For the anon who wanted an erotica novel that didn’t suck try Eat Me by Linda Jaivin. It has a little bit of everything and it won’t scare anyone off, it’s my go-to intro-to-dirty-books for vanilla friends. It’s hot and definitely risque but it’s written like a sex-and-the-city type fluffy-friendship book.)
“You’ll have to wait.”
“I want to pee.”
“Oh for God’s sake. Give me your pants and squat down there in front of me.”
[…] I crouched down and peed on his shiny shiny Church’s brogues. Seeing what I had done, […] he shoved my knickers into my mouth, pushed me onto all fours in the leaves and mud, hoiked my arse towards him and whipped me like a dog with the stick. And I yelped like a dog.
[…] I thought he would never stop. My face was down in the dirt, I smelled the earth and felt the pain, the warm excitement on my clitoris. […] The endorphins kicked in. I entered the zone of the submissive: spaced out, compliant, smiling. The pain brought me into the present, as in the present as it was possible to be. There was only the moment. The mulch. The smell of Daddy and earth. […] Overcome, I burst into tears. He stopped. […] He kissed me and said firmly, but gently, “You will listen to me when I am speaking to you.”
I gave him my filthy hand and he led me back to the car. […] He did my seat belt up and said, “Now calm down.” My hands were resting on the seat but, as he looked down at me, my mons convulsed and I came spontaneously. He watched. I came again. He smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled. I was completely in love with him and he was right. At that moment I would have done anything for him."
I’m just gonna put this here because it reminds me of a few very good memories and I think I might need to read it again later…. while my hands are in my panties. <3
It took her a few minutes to realize I was actually going to tell him everything.
In fact, it wasn’t until I told him that she likes to cry when she sucks my cock because it makes her feel twelve did she get nervous. She looked up at me with a question in her eye, but I patted her on the head and smiled in return.
“She gets embarrassed when I tell people what she likes,” I told him as I opened her mouth with two fingers. “But it’s a vicious cycle because the more embarrassed she becomes the wetter she gets. It’s quite a challenge because if she gets too turned on she forgets to be shy.”
“What else does she like?” he asked as I pushed her mouth down around his cock. She choked for just a minute, but soon she was moving her head and looking up at me begging me not to say more.
“She likes to be fucked up the ass when’s the most bratty, but when she’s quiet I fuck her from behind as I bury her face into a pillow. Sometimes I tell her how much tighter her sister is and she whines and promises to try harder. She wants me to get angry enough to hurt her, but in the end she always needs forgiveness.”
“And how is she feeling now?” he asked as he thrust all the way into her throat, holding her there for a long moment. I finally pulled her off his cock by the hair and tilted her head back.
“How do you feel, babygirl?”
“I’ve been good, you’re just being mean to me,” she whined.
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I nodded my head as I threw her onto the bed. She hardly struggled when I positioned her on her knees in front of me, her cunt and ass directly in his line of sight. He moved closer as I held her still, and she refused to look at me.
By the time he was buried inside her ass she was coming around him. I held her chin tightly in one hand as my other moved up and down my cock, but it wasn’t until she began to cry that my own orgasm began. Her tears ran down her cheeks as she try to get me into her mouth, and I brushed her hair from her eyes. Finally I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
“Good girl,” I whispered as he collapsed on top of her. “Such a good girl.”