24 hours

At various points over the last few days, I’ve sat down at my laptop with the intention of finishing a story, only to get distracted by all the other shiny things the internet has to offer. And porn, obvs. Anyway, while I may be struggling for focus, I’m certainly not short of ideas, mental images, and general erotic inspiration right now. These are some of the things I’ve been thinking about in the last 24 hours:

  • Why I’d never tried whipping someone with the belt from my suit trousers before, and when I might be able to do it again. What else I might use to turn her arse bright red. Setting her a task that I know – and she knows – she’ll fail, and punishing her for it. Because apparently I do have an inner sadist after all.
  • The growing appeal of an MFF threesome, especially if it involves being tied up, blindfolded, and forced to guess who’s doing what to me. Tasting them both. The exhaustion afterwards.
  • Threesomes in general. Logistics, positions, power exchange. The little details: the noises, the way they’d look at each other, and the way they’d look at me. That moment when I feel the head of his cock push inside me for the first time.
  • Squalid, public fucking. Fucking behind the dumpster in the alleyway outside the pub. Fucking in the toilets – any toilets, as long as they smell of piss and the tiles are stained and broken. Fucking somewhere I shouldn’t, because it’s bad and wrong and dirty, and so so good.
  • The Marketing Manager at work, with her big eyes, big tits, and cut-glass voice. The soft-spoken cashier at Sainsbury’s the other night. The woman I sat opposite on the tube this morning. Women I’ve fucked. Women I’m fucking. Women – and men – I want to fuck. People I shouldn’t be thinking about…
  • Pressing her up against the hotel window, naked, with her tits on display to the workmen taking a break in the street below. How it made her feel. How wet she was when I pushed her down on the bed and forced her legs apart.
  • The look of surprise and delight – and hunger – that has always spread across a partner’s face the first time she’s tightened the strap-on harness around her waist and looked down at the cock between her legs. The eagerness with which they’ve all fucked me. How silly it is that my own grunts and moans turn me on, when my face is pressed down into the pillow.
  • Being naked, and being watched. A life drawing class. On stage, in a play. At a party, forced to touch myself for the amusement of the guests. They’re a bit older, female, fully-clothed. Some of them want to fuck me – I can see it in the way their eyes wander over my body – and I know I’ll be passed around between them in the weeks to come.
  • The squeeze of her cunt around my cock when she’s just about to come. Pushing it in slowly: she’s so fucking tight and she thinks I’m teasing her, thinks I’m being cruel, but really I’m just greedy for her heat and her wetness, gliding over my skin. I don’t want to miss that. There’ll be plenty of time later for hard and rough, I promise.
  • Because sometimes that’s the best bit. I think about kissing a lot.

Part of me wishes I could channel some of that into stories, and blog posts, and all the rest of it. At some point this week, I’m sure I will. Hopefully it will be worth the wait…

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5 Responses to 24 hours

  1. Molly says:

    Oh THIS “Squalid, public fucking” I have a massive horn for this… I even used it as an idea in the Smut Marathon where I set my piece in a mens room… and it is a piece that remains unfinished. I must change that


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