- Daddy: Wouldn't you like to have a little sister baby?
- Little: No Daddy I would not. Unless you were a mean Daddy and treated me better than her. ;)
- Daddy: Of course I would baby. You would be my number one. You know that.
- Little: Yeah Daddy but I'd want her to know that. And that's not very nice is it?
- Daddy: No it isn't. But I'm sure if she was subby enough she'd love it too.
- Little: Really? Do you think there's a Little out there who fetishizes being second best?
- Daddy: I think there's a little out there who fetishizes being topped by a daddy and another little.
- Little: Well yes but I mean do you think that the same way I fetishize being best there's someone who would get off on knowing they aren't good enough?
- Daddy: I'm sure there is.
- Little: Hmm.... I like that. *blush*
- Daddy: She'd be our little. To tease and toy with.
- Little: Mmm hmm. Now I keep thinking about you telling a poor subby little why she could never be as good as me while I go down on you... and then I would play good cop and whisper to her that I could teach her how to make Daddy proud.... Oh Daddy I'd be so so mean to her.
- Daddy: Tell me how mean baby. What else would you do?
- Little: Just regular mean stuff Daddy. Not letting her have what she wants. Making her watch us play while she can't touch herself and you tell her all the reasons I'm your favourite. And me acting real real nice but actually being mean. You know? I'd nick name her Silver. And say "Aw Daddy, poor Silver is so lonely over there" and you would say "That's what she deserves Sweetness" and she would like that. If we talked like she wasn't there.
- Daddy: Are you sure little one? Isn't it you that likes that? ;)
- Little: And then I would lie to get her in trouble and tell you I saw her touching her pussy even though she wasn't she was actually being very good. And you would spank her. Ouchie spankings too, not just nice spanks. And then I would whisper to her that I did it to help her. Because, I'd tell her, Daddy loves the girls he spanks the best, and I was just tryin' to get you to love her more that's all, I was helpin'. And she would say thank you and I would tell her she was a good girl.... Would you like that Daddy?
- Daddy: Very much baby.
I brought Guy New York's new book Disgusting Beautiful Immoral with me on our camping trip and read most of it with one hand in my panties. I couldn’t put it down, it’s fucking filthy. In fact I didn’t miss tumblr smut at all because this book gave me explicit descriptions of some of my greatest fantasies in gloriously intimate detail.
Guy New York is without question my favourite dirty storyteller, he touches upon the emotional experience of fucking in a way that makes each encounter feel personal. His writing covertly teaches the reader about consent, communication, accountability, ethical poly practices and personal growth through the experiences of his characters. His female lead is neither a prop or a fantasy, she has depth and character and personal agency.
The main couple in the novel explore orgies, sex parties, threesomes the Daddy Dominant/Little dynamic and a laundry list of dirty talking that left me wanting to cum and cry all at once. And the grand finale mirrors one of my greatest fantasies so beautifully it inspired me to consider making it come true…
Often a smut enthusiast like myself must choose between hot fucking and thoughtful content, but this book delivers plenty of both. In fact my husband and I made up a drinking game (while I was reading the book like a fiend by the firelight) where you flip to any page and if there is sex you drink. He almost ran out of whiskey about 5 minutes later so we stopped that game. But if you’re looking for something to fuel your fantasies and get you off I highly recommend this sexy piece of work.
We’re in the car. I’m tired of wearing clothing, I feel constricted. I pop the clasp on the back of my bra open and remove it. You encourage me to take my panties off as well if it’ll make me feel better. You’re filthy. So incredibly filthy in the best ways imaginable. My pussy contracts involuntarily and starts to get wet. I slide the matching net briefs down my legs and put them in my purse.
When we get to the parking garage I keep my knees together as I get out of the passenger side door. We walk back to my building and as we’re headed up the stairs you put your hand up my skirt and run a finger down the length of my lips. I know you can feel how much I want you. You slowly enter me with that finger. I can feel the calluses, the muscle. Who the fuck has muscular fingers? You do. I love your hands.
"Let’s go, cutie."
I’m pretty sure you’re walking me up the stairs by my vulva. You’re in control. You have the control because I’ve given it to you and we both seem to enjoy this arrangement very much.
I take my skirt off and sit on the bed. You spread my legs, kiss the inside of one thigh and breathe on my pussy. I shiver. You do it a couple of times, alternating this with blowing a cooler, more focused puff over my clitoris or towards my asshole. You can be such a tease. It’s hot and cold and I might melt and then you touch me with your tongue. Yes, touch. Not lick. I know you’ll get to that eventually but you keep your tongue virtually immobile on my clit until I really may not be able to stand it any more. The first lick is slow and almost torturous. Can torturous be used in this context? You’re so delicate with your tongue. Precise. So very purposeful. You eat pussy like a chick. Like you know where we’re headed but you’re going to take your time getting there because you know this part is enjoyable too. Yes, torturous can absolutely be used in this context. I need to come. It’s maddening. I’m trying to push a little harder against your mouth when suddenly you grab my clitoris firmly with your lips or teeth or something and start doing something that feels like you’re suction cupped to it. You drag the orgasm out of me. You take it because you know you can. I can’t control myself any longer. My legs come up and wrap around your neck, my hand on the back of your head. I’m humping your face, probably cutting off the supply of blood through your jugular with my thighs. It’s like dying. My brain shuts off. All I feel is tactile pleasure. I may explode, I do explode, and then I’m sliding down, away from your mouth. The half grown out facial hair feels nice. My vaginal secretions are dripping off of your chin. I hope you can understand now why I enjoy it so much when you come on my face, in my mouth.
"I wish I could fuck you and do this at the same time."
You’re filthy. You’re amazing.
I am coming down from a series of orgasms which culminated in one so intense that it re-set my vagina. My only option is to lay there under you and glow for a few seconds before my body can even consider building towards another one. You’re thrusting into me with a steady rhythm. I feel sated and relaxed. I just want to push back with my hips and give you some dedicated you time. I want to make you come. I want to pay attention to every detail.
I can feel you get slightly harder. This always surprises me. Your cock fits me so nicely that when it swells up that little extra bit I can feel it push against the inner circumference of my vagina and it drives me crazy. Every time, I can’t believe you could feel any better than you did a few seconds earlier, but you do.
You’re going to come. You say you want to come inside me. You say this because you know it turns me on, and I think because it turns you on, too. Sometimes you try to fake me out, you say you’re going to and mimic an orgasm inside me and the thought of it is so hot but I know you’re far too respectful and responsible to do that unless I asked you to.
Unless I asked you to.
It’s a terrible idea, but…
"Do it. I want to feel you come inside me."
I grab you by your butt cheeks and pull you in. Your pubic bone brushes against my clitoris, it feels nice but every single nerve in my vaginal canal is so awake and so tuned in to what’s about to happen that it barely registers. I feel you fall into me hips first. Your cock twitches, expands, a burst of hot, tingling fluid fills me up. I feel it splash off of my cervix and this moment is so beautiful I want to hang suspended in it forever. One more spurt of liquid and I’m full. You gently lay your upper body down on me. I run the pads of my fingers gently over the warm skin of your sculpted back and shoulders. You make a slight backwards movement with your pelvis as though you might pull out. I think you don’t want to squish me.
"No, please, stay."
This feels so good I want to draw it out as long as possible.
A trickle of your semen dribbles out of me and over my asshole. I can feel you still engorged, pressing against the front wall which so loves to be pressed up against. I am so turned on that I am teetering on the cusp of another orgasm, but to do so would stop the feeling I have right now and I don’t want it to end. It’s delicious, being right on the edge and holding back like that.
"You just came inside me."
"I did. It felt so right in the moment."
It did feel so right. So very right. I could fall asleep like this, you on top of and inside me, your face nuzzled next to mine, your big hands holding me so gently by the waist. You start to go limp and I treasure every centimeter of internal caress as your dick slides out. This is something so much more than lust.
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.