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Welcome to Elust #77

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 #78? Start with the rules, come back January 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

On the Island of Mhowra

Shoulder shaming?

What becomes of the broken hearted…


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

You can hear it in my voice.

Fingers – Please Fuck me With Just Them

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Don’t tell me sucking dick is easy
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I’ve said it before: buying Christmas presents fries my brain. And the older I get, the harder it seems to be to find the perfect gift. In fact, the only ‘easy’ person to purchase for is my dad (bless him) because he asks for the same two things every year:

  1. Peace and Quiet
  2. Number 6 Fish Hooks

M and I are on a real budget at the moment—we’ve decided the beautiful flogger we bought from Daisy’s Floggers last month will be our gift to each other—so, in the spirit of frugal-yet-thoughtful giving, I’ve decided to keep this year’s sexy Christmas gift list short ‘n’ sweet (five items only) and limit it to objects under £40.00 …


Cunt Coloring Book — USD$8.95/GBP$10.00

“Over three dozen c**ts of every size and description for you to color.”

Cracks me up the ‘Look inside’ feature seems to be missing from this one on Amazon and that, for some entirely bizarre reason, they’ve seen fit to asterisk out the word ‘cunt’ from the above description despite the fact it appears as part of the search listing and on the cover:

Screen Shot 2015-12-07 at 14.05.19

Nevertheless, it looks to be a whole lot of fun—and certainly an interesting alternative to all the adult colouring books that are populating bookshops at the moment.


Kamasutra Articulated Paper Dolls (half-set) — £18.36

Absolutely gorgeous, I’m pretty certain I could spend hours playing with these beautiful handcrafted dolls by Maria Dubrovskaya and placing them in compromising positions. If you’ve got a little more to spend, you can opt for the full set, which includes four dolls (£34.68), and create all sorts of delicious group sex scenarios.

Continue reading



Image: Tentacle and Suckers, Eric Kilby

She is picking periwinkles, dusky blue like witches’ hats. There are brown ones here, too—grey, black, and bruise-purple—but they taste bitter, more tart, and she has a craving for soft, milky sweetness.

Thick, rubbery beads of Neptune’s Necklace wave gently in the breeze of the tide as she turns slowly, methodically, her eyes searching the rocks around her as fractured shells rub at the soles of her bare feet. It’s dangerous here this close to the shore. But her craving has become an all-consuming obsession she can no longer ignore.

The swell surges around her, pulsing her closer, ever closer, to the beach and she fights to stay in place. The tide is still high but it’s close to turning. She can feel it. Feel the distant moon’s insistent tug.

One more. Just one more and she can swim back to the safety of the deep.

There. In a tiny crevice midway up a cliff of rough, jagged rock.

A hermit crab scuttles by, glaring at her, clearly offended by her presence but she ignores it, swims towards her treasure, hair billowing around her in great, golden puffs. Up, up, up, until she’s floating level with the nestled shell.

Her soft hands close around it.

Pressing her feet against the rockface for leverage, she tugs—hard—the muscles in her lithe legs straining, her arms burning from the effort. But the creature refuses to relinquish its grip on the rock and, every few seconds, she is forced to rest.

She’s almost given up when, suddenly—unexpectedly—it surrenders its seemingly unbreakable hold and pops free.

Its little eye closing, blinking at her like a cat, she sinks with it clutched in her hands, the weight of the seaweed sack strapped to her back, pulling her down, down, down to the seafloor below. Kicking hard, she rights herself, landing gracefully in the shadow of the rock face, a smile of impossible jubilation on her face.

Four! She has Four! Continue reading


Bad erotica. I asked for it, and you guys wrote it.

Oh, boy, did you write it.

From the very first submission (Kilted Wookie’s The Bank Job) to the very last (Maria Opens Up’s One Eye, Willy, and the Rose), this second #EuphOff has been a rollicking rollercoaster of gleefully purple prose, hilarious sexual puns and arousal-quenching innuendo that – quite literally at times – had me on the floor.

The sheer inventiveness of the various entries and the skill with which they were executed was amazing and I want to say ‘thank you’ to everyone who took the time to enter and craft these amazing pieces of glorious tat. (Despite what others may think, writing really shitty sex scenes well is actually pretty damn hard!)

Before I announce the supreme winner of the much coveted Bad Erotica Crown *cough cough* (and confer the excellence in bad erotic audio award), let’s take a moment or two to ponder the, er, ‘highlights’ of The EuphOff: Part Deux


Kilted (Master of the Disturbing Plumbing Simile) Wookie:

Like a plumber unblocking a stubborn drain, he plunged into her, hammering her like a farmer erecting a fence post in the soft earth.

The Bank Job


Beck (Goddess of Going Where No Man or Woman Has Gone Before with a Household Appliance or Piece of Infrastructure) and her Kinks:

He rose to his feet. Slapping his throbbing milkshake gun on her face pillows. Stroking his milkshake maker until his creamy warmth coated her voice tunnel.

Jack & Liv


The Other (And Spectre-acularly Galor-ious) Livvy:

Glory Wholl stalked across the casino, her voluptuous figure swaying inside the velvet dress. This was not her first mission as Ernest Blohard’s seductress assassin but was likely to be her hardest. Her target’s reputation preceded him and her loins fluttered at the conflict between her professionalism and throbbing desire.

The Spy Who Loved Me


Dawnrotica da Vinci (A.K.A cherrytartblog):

The sound of her moans, the silky feel of her secret studio as he fondled her fufu and stroked at her love bud inflamed his passions even more.

The Artist’s Passion


Oleander (Would Make a Red Pen Leak with Excitement) Plume:

“I don’t care for a rough gutter, so I wax,” he says. I lick his silky sack before moving above the fold to inhale his dingbat. “Suck my font, Devon, suck it!”

Literally Literary


Tabitha (Take Me to Questionable Heaven and Back with Dirty Auto Parts) Rayne:

“Feeling a little greedy are we?” he says with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Yes, I’m always greedy for you. I want you to pump me hard with your big pneumatic breaker – separate my tyre bead from my trim, make me squeal like a broken fan-belt!”

– A Visit to the Mechanic


Cherrie’s (I’m Just Pruning My Rosebush) Delights:

I let my hands slide downwards. They paused near the entrance of my love garden.

– Landscaping


Ninja (You Had Me At Hard Drive) Sexology:

Sheila squealed like a dialup modem connecting to AOL as he plunged into her throbbing love tunnel.  “Oh baby, yes, I need more RAM!” Sheila cried out in ecstasy.  Matt relentlessly pegged her CPU, shuddering as his hard drive completed its data dump.

– Tech Support


  Tamsin (Ewe Baaaaaaad Girl) Flowers:

Elementa craved for the rough touch of Willie’s strong hands on her ripening flesh. But Willie fulfilled his needs elsewhere. His black sheep, Guilda, was the love of his life …

The Stella Gibbons Euph Off …


The Lady Whose Title Before I Clicked Made Me Think My Childhood Memories of Watching The Goonies Were About To Be Forever Altered (A.K.A. Maria Opens Up):

As his fingers touched her, she remembered all the times Willy’s willy had plundered her petals. All the times the old prospector’s mining trolley had lumbered down her throbbing tunnel of love, all the times his pick-axe had struck liquid gold hammering her depths.

– One Eye, Willy, and the Rose


So, to the winners. Continue reading


Elust header Photo courtesy of Charlie in the Pool


Welcome to Elust #76

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 #75? Start with the rules, come back November 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Sex and the post-birth vagina

Lonely Things

Just the two of us


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Tiny, shiny, bity snaps of steel…

I have fallen in and out of love with myself


~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

I had An Abortion


Continue reading



A couple of weeks back, the Sinful Sunday monthly prompt was ‘Shoot from Above’. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to do a photograph for it but the prompt itself really fascinated me as this angle is not something that I’ve attempted before and I thought it would be both challenging and fun to experiment with it.

Initially, I had all sorts of ideas involving our stepladder and an empty, raised vegetable bed (don’t ask) but the weather has been totally pants here recently and, as a girl who really feels the cold, taking the picture I envisaged just wasn’t going to happen. Then, as luck would have it, I remembered that we have a, um, hook, above our bed (*whistles nonchalantly*) and that I could probably hang my camera off of it by its strap. Continue reading


Clover Clamps

When I was younger, I used to think that there was something wrong with my nipples because, contrary to what Cosmopolitan and every romance novel I’d ever read seemed to say, having someone touch them or lick them or suck them just didn’t seem to do anything for me. For a long time, they were just sort of there – a nice distraction for my partners but nothing really special for me in the sexual arousal department. Gentle thumbing, delicate licking, or soft kissing during vanilla sex?


But my relationship with my nipples and my attitude towards nipple play changed entirely when I began to consciously explore BDSM, pain and submission because, as I began to understand my kinks and my response to various forms of stimuli, they suddenly (and almost out-of-the-blue) became a hot switch that could be flicked to devastating effect. In fact, I would now go so far as to say that, played with in the right way, they have the power to send me screamingly close to an orgasm.

For me, pain and vulnerability definitely play staring roles for when it comes to nipple play, both directly and indirectly. A firm pinch, strong sucking, and the involvement of teeth are all things that really (really) float my boat, and most especially if they’re combined with something that’s more softly arousing. M fucking me with his fingers while he tortures a nipple with his teeth? That’s going to get me worked up and begging pretty damn quickly. Conversely, if something else uncomfortable is going on, the gentle, quiet application of M’s mouth to the tip of my breast can feel utterly amazing. For me – as with most D/s play that really pushes my buttons – it’s about Yin and Yang.

But the type of nipple play I adore most?


I’m pretty sure that the act of applying nipple clamps is as much a factor in my response to them as the wearing – the threat, the anticipation, the knowledge that the hurt will be sustained, not fleeting. That moment when M sucks on my nipple to harden it? That tell-tale chink of metal that sometimes gives away his intentions if he’s chosen to use clovers? The gentle brush of them against my areola moments before they bite down and ruthlessly eat into my flesh?

Everything inside me tightens in the very best of ways. Continue reading


So, I didn’t have time to do a Sinful Sunday session this week and the only images in the photo bank that I’m happy with are these ones of my little assets. They’re from the same session as this image, which I posted a couple of weeks back, so I hope you can forgive the lack of variety. (Cheeky Minx, Charlie, and Dawn tell me there can never be too much boob, so I’m taking them at their word!)

I kind of like the way these photographs work together as a group (full-size/aspect versions below) but, of the three, the middle picture’s definitely my favourite.

Which do you like best?

EDIT: PS – I’ve you’re the owner of small boobs (or a lover of them!) I’d adore it if you’d join in with my Little Doves project.

Screen Shot 2015-11-09 at 11.20.41

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I never thought I’d be promoting bad erotica. Ever. But, here I am, running a contest to see who can write the very worst euphemistic, smutty prose.

Go figure.

Obviously, I can’t enter my own competition and win this lovely collector’s edition of Andrew Lang’s Fairytales from Around the World or this box of smutty magnetic poetry (I hear that wouldn’t be ethical, damn it!), but I can write a suitably appalling contribution for your collective ‘enjoyment’.

And I have. (Oh, God.)

Clench your throbbing love tunnels, folks.

NB: The #EuphOff – Part Deux ends this Friday, 6 November, at midnight (GMT), so if you’d like to take part there’s still time to enter – just click here for the rules and details on how to submit your piece. You can also see the current and past entries by visiting this page.




Image: MoneyPen Waggener

“You certainly have a hefty portfolio, Mr Lehman,” purred Nordica. “In fact, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen a package so … impressive.” She batted her lashes seductively.“How, exactly, were you thinking of investing?”

Mr Lehman smirked, grey and shark-like, his overly white teeth glinting beneath the bright artificial lights of the office. As he leaned forwards, she watched his eyes fill with fetid, lustful greed. “Oh, I’ve definitely got some ideas, Ms Rock.” His voice coiled and stretched, curling over the desk between them like cloying, oily smoke.

“Have you now?” Nordica raised a provocative eyebrow. “Perhaps you’d care to elaborate?”

“Oh, it would be my absolute pleasure to.”

As Mr Lehman rose, Nordica couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips. Balance her chequebook! but the outline of his too-hefty profitability index was clear to see beneath the fine wool fabric of his slacks! And was it her imagination, or could she actually make out his heavy balloon payments swinging precariously beneath? Continue reading