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Cock shots Sinful Sunday

Sinful Sunday: Holding Pattern

I travelled overseas for work this week, for the first time in over five years. It was an intense and exhausting trip, which reminded me of all the things I love (cool new cities, big hotel beds, dinner on expenses) and hate (being away from family, long hours, transport disasters) about business travel.

The transport disaster came on my way back to London, when my late-evening flight was postponed due to ‘bad weather’, forcing me to spend an extra night away. To make things worse, Easyjet dicked us around at the airport for long enough that by the time they finally got everyone booked into a nearby hotel, it was pushing 2am.

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Cock shots

Repurposed

Tomorrow is my 40th birthday. More on that to come, perhaps. Over the last 24 hours, I’ve been looking back through old blog photos, trying to find the ones that best capture how I looked and felt in my early 30s. The images by which I’d most like to remember that time in my life, from a sexual perspective.

During my trawl, I came across a photo from November 2014 that I’d completely forgotten about. It’s one I really like: I think my body looks good, I remember being achingly hard when I took it, and the washed-out edit works well. What I like (and want to remember) much less is the post that went with it; I’d just been let go at work, and was trying to cheer myself up by posting nudes, which kind of worked at the time but isn’t an event in my life that I want to think about now.

So I’m going to repurpose the photo here, nearly seven years later (wow), and throw in another from that set for good measure! What do you think? Fancy taking 33yo Exhibit A for a ride?!

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Cock shots Erotica

Watch Me

I’m stretched out on the sofa in a plain white t-shirt and blue-checked Calvin Klein PJs, one bare foot hanging over the edge as I scroll idly. There’s maybe a two-inch gap between the t-shirt’s hem, which has ridden up, and the waistband of my bottoms, which I’m pushing down far enough with my other hand that I can jam my thumb into the base of my cock. Tufts of pubic hair curl out from the faded CK logo towards my navel, eventually giving way at either side to soft, pale skin.

You can picture that, right? Like something from the Loungewear section of a department store catalogue, minus the male model abs and designer stubble.

The sofa is solidly beige, if you need a bit more context (I could go with light brown or mid-grey, and get away with it, but really it’s beige). Generous two-person, with a fairly low back. There are cushions – little oases of colour – most of which are arranged behind my head and shoulders, so I can recline more comfortably.

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Cock shots Sinful Sunday

Sinful Sunday: 143/500

I did not intend to write this post on a Tuesday! For one thing, I’m roughly 36 hours too late for the link-up deadline, so don’t stand any chance of winning one of the fabulous prizes Molly has lined up for this most auspicious of Sinful Sundays. For another…well, the clue is in the name! This is in no way a midweek meme, yet here I am, styling it out like a schoolboy trying to get away with handing in an overdue piece of homework.

Any other week, I obviously wouldn’t bother. I’d wait another five days and post it to the next link-up instead. However, this is not ‘any other week’, and it’s definitely not just any other Sinful Sunday. As most of you reading this will already know, it’s Sinful Sunday #500! How could I not take part??

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Cock shots Erotica Sinful Sunday

Sinful Sunday: Wank in the Woods

The woods are quiet during lockdown. On dirt-grey weekday afternoons they’re rarely busy anyway, but since the world ground to a halt even the dogwalkers have abandoned the narrow paths that wind their way between the viridescent thickets, under a canopy dense enough to block out any ambient noise from the busy London suburb in which the woods sit.

Paradoxically, the silence makes it hard at first to be sure just where the sound is coming from. It’s both faint and somehow all around you, as if it’s echoing from one tree trunk to the next. If it wasn’t for the rhythm – metronomic and insistent – you’d dismiss it as wet leaves slapping against bark. That’s what it sounds like, but as you close your eyes and try to pin down where it’s coming from, you realise that it’s firmer, more substantial.

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Cock shots Sex

He Is Risen!

(I’m SO annoyed with myself for not being organised enough to post this yesterday, when the title would’ve been even more blasphemously appropriate…)

In the story I posted last week, I included this description of the moment right before my cock gets hard:

I can feel it building elsewhere in my body: mostly in my stomach and my thighs, but it also spreads up and out across my chest, and down the backs of my legs. It’s a form of anticipation that blends heart-thumping excitement with an odd, deep sense of calm. I think that’s because the progress of the erection itself feels inexorable; not quite pre-ordained, but certainly impossible to interrupt once it’s first set in motion, deep below the surface.

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Cock shots Sinful Sunday

Sinful Sunday: Squeeze

There are no hard and fast rules when it comes to sex, but one thing I’ve observed to be at least generally true over the years is that most people who don’t have a cock are (understandably) wary of handling one in too firm or vigorous a manner.

While that’s infinitely preferable to the small number of partners who’ve taken the opposite (and far more painful) approach to jerking me off, it’s still an area where I’m always keen to offer reassurance – not least, of course, because I benefit directly from any increase in hand job confidence.

And I find that the best way to provide that reassurance usually involves giving a lengthy and intimate demonstration of exactly how I like to be touched. Of how well my cock responds to the tight grip of a lubed-up hand (or two). Of the way it ripples and swells when a curled fist strokes up from the base towards the head, the skin reddening and the veins bulging out.

Of how fucking good it feels when I squeeze.

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Cock shots Sinful Sunday

Sinful Sunday: Bare

A couple of days ago, I tweeted this:

I’ve written about trimming/shaving my pubic hair before: in blog posts, in erotic fiction, and years ago in one of my very first Sinful Sunday posts, which I think has fallen victim to my 2017 blog migration.

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Cock shots Sinful Sunday

Sinful Sunday: Cockshot(t)

Sometimes life throws an opportunity your way, and it’s your responsibility to grasp it with both hands.

Sometimes the past and the present collide with joyously unexpected consequences.

Sometimes the obvious jokes are the best jokes.

Sometimes dreams do come true.

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Top of the Cocks

A few days ago, I was asked to provide an Instagram-friendly promo pic for a podcast I recorded last month (it’s called The Second Circle, my episode should be available some time in May – and yes, it’s awesome). Bored of sending people my Twitter avi, and unwilling to take the plunge with a head shot, I decided to trawl through my WordPress media library in search of something just SFW-enough to make it past Zuckerberg Corp’s joyless censors.

The sweet spot – as it were – turned out to be my butt. Or more specifically, the sizeable collection of ass pics I’ve built up over the years on my blog. Whether atop a log in Epping Forest; on a deserted High Line, looking out over Manhattan in the pouring rain; or a pale smudge set against the moody Scottish wilderness, my peachy cheeks have been captured on camera so often (and in so many different settings) that narrowing the field down to one undisputed winner proved unexpectedly tough.

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