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Back in 2013, I reviewed four charming little vibrators manufactured by a company named Smile Makers. The proposition? Sex toy designs based around stereotypical fantasy men. You know the sort of bloke I’m talking about. That bastion of manly manhood found in (and on the cover of) the classic 80s bodice ripper – the kind with a muscular chest who repeatedly calls the heroine ‘a little vixen’.

Think Mills & Boon. Think Harlequin.

He’s this dude:

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Or maybe this one:

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I don’t, as a general rule, go in for ‘comedy’ sex toys.

What do I mean by that?

Well, blow-up sheep, cotton wool nipple warmers and the like. Anything that might be considered hen or stag night fodder, really. Because while I’m all for humour and laughter during sex, poking a stick at the actual act itself – making it out to be something to snigger and giggle about behind our hands – leaves me feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

On the flip side, though? Sex shouldn’t be too serious.

And here’s where I think the folks over at Smile Makers have been really, really clever: they’ve managed to create a range of vibrators with a tongue-in-cheek sense of humour but at the same time counterbalance this personality injection with good quality design and manufacturing. Continue reading

18

Franz_von_Bayros_Ex-libris_of_Sweet_SnailI’m going off-prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday. I don’t usually do that but following on from my Come Inside Me post, which featured an excerpt from the story I’m currently working on, Dirty Hands, I’ve been doing a bit of thinking …

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you will have more than likely noticed that I have a bit of thing for marking. Bruises, welts, teeth marks, scratches – they all play a significant role in my kink ‘make-up’. But in this particular instance, I’m going to talk about a different kind of marking: marking with semen. Dirty Hands provided a fictional glimpse of the act and how it might play out. This? It’s my attempt to look at it through (and I apologise for how wanky this sounds) the lens of my own experience.

I’m not entirely sure when my desire – or, rather, need – for this act began. I think I’ve always quite liked the idea of the remnants of the sexual act being left on the body as a kind of evidence of connection – a token of an intimate exchange with another person, if you will. But as I’ve become more and more aware of my D/s tendencies I think ejaculate, semen, cum – whatever you want to call it – has taken on a different and deeper significance. Both the act and the physical evidence of it. Continue reading

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MollyHeader
Photo courtesy of Molly’s Daily Kiss

Welcome to Elust #68 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #69? Start with the rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

For our UK readers, we would like to make a special request that you take a moment and fill out this petition to repeal the new censorship laws.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A Misunderstanding With My Clitoris
BDSM Doesn’t Magically Fix Your Life
Discussing Consent, Culture, and What We Do

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Other people run. I fuck.
Frame by Frame

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Bad Men and Why Perfectly Intelligent, Independent, Sane Women Fantasize About Them

Continue reading

12

Erotic_sketch-Jan2010A little quiet on the blogging front over the past few weeks. Sorry, folks. I’ve had a lot going on, including a family bereavement (my much-loved grandmother), illness (me, appalling sinusitis), and general domestic chaos.

But the good news? I’m back working on Dirty Hands.

This story is quite different to anything I’ve written previously. One, because it’s a full length novel (as I recently confessed on Malin James’ #DraftingIsHell post, longer works are something I’m growing into) and, two, because the kink and D/s elements in it are not explicitly identified as such. In other words, Dirty Hands is kinky without being, er, kinky, if that makes any sort of sense.

My last snippet focused on an edgeplay encounter. This one? Marking. By which I mean marking with semen. There’s something incredibly primal and basically sexual about this act and for me, personally, it holds a deeply arousing allure – one I’d really like to explore in a future non-fiction piece. Specifically? The animalistic satisfaction it generates, the underlying psychology, the need(s) it fulfils in both the ‘marker’ and the ‘mark-ee’.

For now, though, I’ll leave you with this fictional encounter between Ben and Carissa.

DIRTY HANDS – EXCERPT

God, but her cunt’s sublime. Maybe it’s because we’re skin-on-skin but, Jesus, the feel of it …

I drag myself backwards until I’m barely inside of her then push slowly back in – Sheets, shitty waves, ugly ass dogs – and Carissa whimpers, dropping her weight onto her forearms, pushing her ass higher. Beneath my fingertip, her clit swells to cock-like proportions and the sound of us fucking grows louder and louder as her body floods with arousal, soaking my pubic hair until it’s nothing but a mat of sticky, black whorls. Now when I root myself, she tightens around me in encouragement, tries to get her legs further apart and suck me deeper into her body. The shorts cuffing her thighs together put paid to that, though, and before too long, her breathy whines soon turn to groans of frustration.

Shit.

I’m not going to last much longer – she just feels too fucking good. Continue reading

28

 

Pearl_oyster (1) 2Image: Manfred Heyde 

I apologise. Profusely, profoundly, whole-heartedly. For I am about to inflict upon you one of the worst things imaginable: appalling erotica. Intentionally appalling erotica.

Yes, you read that correctly. And it’s all thanks (?!) to my Resist the Erotic Euphemism (A.K.A. Don’t Let Me Plunge Your Coffee Bean) post and some tantalising response tweets from Curvaceous Dee and Lunabelle.

Our collective mission: to write the most cringe-worthy erotica imaginable using horrible sexual euphemisms. You thought my stick figures were bad? Phtt! Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Take #1 …

He parted her milky drumsticks, dipping his head to inhale the musky Febreze drifting from her down there area.

“Quite the lady of the night, aren’t you?” he whispered, his lips a mere breath from her jam tart. “Tell me, do you always let random billionaires you meet on the 5:10 from Waterloo navigate your love canal?”

“I don’t-”

He laughed, cutting off her would-be protest and touched a mini truncheon to the shell of her fiery fuschia pearl. “Yeah, right.” 

Dipping his head, he touched his oral sword to her flamingo orchid and ran it between the pouting petals, savouring the sticky milk of magnesia pooling between them. Dysoned her swollen love button into his hungry mouth. “By the time I’ve finished giving your front bottom a good night-sticking …”

She pressed herself against his lips in a way that would get her banned from Blogger.

“…you’re going to be nothing more than my pretty little pork sword scabbard …”

She groaned in protest.

“… my tarnished little love custard connoisseur.”

“I don’t … I don’t think-”

“You don’t need to think.” He inserted a substantial hand sausage into her va-jay-jay, felt it contract greedily. “The only thing you need to concern yourself with is dancing the Macarena on my beef bayonet.” She shivered. “Taking my rod of velvet-coated steel wherever I tell you to.” 

Slowly, deliberately, he eased his hand pencil from her body, trailing the marscapone-covered tip downwards until it came to rest against her not-exactly-easy-to-get-into cinnabar cavern. “Open wide,” he muttered, plunging her coffee bean, watching with fascination as the protesting rubber band slowly gave way and her chocolate starfish flared outwards to accommodate the thickness of his knuckle-boner.

A guttural groan rolled from her throat, caressing his ears.

“Feel like a tea party at the Savoy?”

“Seven lords and a crumpet it smarts, you cad!”

“Does it just?” He dropped his head, working her Volvo with his cherry smackers even as he began to slide his finger gently – ever so gently – in and out of her reluctant back door.

“Oh, schnitzel!”

She flexed her baby canon, her body stiffening as the water wings of her tradesman’s entrance deflated around him.

“That’s the spirit,” he growled.

“Please! It’s too much!”

He didn’t cease and desist. Paused only to whisper against her salmon hydrangea how outstandingly good she tasted – to admire her lightly precipitating body as he finally released her to slather a viscous, water-based pharmaceutical product on his violet-hued spongy stem.

“Good girls,” he crooned, pressing her pins back, savouring her groan of ticked-off acceptance as he notched his fireman’s helmet against her cafatiere, “take what they’re given.”

Continue reading

16

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Photo courtesy of Rebels Notes

Welcome to Elust #67 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #68? Start with the rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

For our UK readers, we would like to make a special request that you take a moment and fill out this petition to repeal the new censorship laws.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Yes, Squirting is Real (And it’s not pee.)

These men make me SO angry

Still Kinky After All These Years

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

When It Rains
You want me to read what?

 

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Due to technical difficulties there is no Readers Choice selection this month

Continue reading