Smutathon 2018: #SmutForChoice (plus: win sex toys!)

A mug of coffee, notebook and pen on a wooden surface. For a post about Smutathon 2018What is Smutathon?

Many of you will remember #Smutathon2017, a mad idea I had in the middle of the night and which some of my wonderful writing friends were kind enough to go along with. It was essentially a 12 hour writing marathon challenge. We raised £2000 for charity, which we split evenly between Backlash and Rape Crisis England & Wales.

Well, Smutathon is back for 2018, and it’s bigger and better than ever! This year, we’ll be holding the main event at a Mystery Location… okay, it’s not actually a mystery, it’s a large Air B’n’B in Cheshire. It’ll be taking place on Saturday 11 August between 10am and 10pm, where we will write our hearts out for 12 hours and ask you to please sponsor us.

The Participants

Smutathon 2018 participants are:

The in-person event is now at capacity, but we welcome remote participants from all over the world! You can even adjust the time to suit your timezone, if you want. All you need to do to get involved is let us know, share the fundraising page, and write!

#SmutForChoice: Our chosen charity

This year we’re fundraising for Abortion Support Network. Chosen in honour of the recent “Repeal the 8th” campaign in the Republic of Ireland, ASN is an amazing organisation that supports people who need to travel from Ireland or the Isle of Man to England in order to access abortion. They, like us, believe that abortion should be free, safe and legal. From their website:

“ASN is not a campaigning or lobbying organisation. While other organisations campaign for much needed law reform, our volunteers work hard to provide immediate, practical support to women who are unable to access safe and legal abortion in their own countries.”

So… tell us about winning sex toys?

Yes! We decided to hold a raffle this year to boost our fundraising and we’ve got some amazing prizes for you. Unless marked below as UK only, all prizes can be shipped anywhere in the world. If we draw your name for a UK only prize, we will randomly assign you a different prize that we can send.

The Prizes

How To enter

There are two ways to enter the Smutathon 2018 raffle. Entries are £2 each, you can enter as many times as you like, and the draw will be done (and shared live on Twitter!) at the main event on Saturday 12 August 2018.

  • ENTER VIA JUSTGIVING: donate to our JustGiving page and put “raffle” + your Twitter handle or email in the message/ comment box. If you don’t want this info available publicly, contact me to let me know the name you paid with so I can record your entry.★★★Very important:★★★ if you are entering the raffle via Justgiving, do not tick the box when asked if you would like to Gift Aid your donation. Raffle entries cannot be Gift Aided. This is a legal requirement and if you do tick the Gift Aid box, your entry will not be counted.
  • ENTER VIA PAYPAL: Paypal your entry money (multiples of £2) to coffeeandkink69 (at) gmail (dot) com. (Please select the “friends/family” option so neither of us get hit with extra fees!)

How else can I help?

  • Donate, of course, and/or enter the raffle.
  • Share this post and our fundraising page on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram or whatever your favourite social media is.
  • Donate a prize to the raffle. Body-safe sex toys, lube, lingerie, kink gear and event tickets are all very welcome.
  • Volunteer for or support Abortion Support Network in any way you can.

Thank you for joining us on this adventure for the second year in a row. Follow along using our official hashtags, #SmutForChoice and #Smutathon2018!

Why I Read Erotica (and You Should Too!)

Outside of very specific environments, it’s not “cool” to admit you read and enjoy erotica. E.L James might now be a household name, but people still occasionally try to convince me that they read Fifty Shades of Grey for the gripping plot.

A woman reading a book pictured from shoulders to hips. For a post about eroticaI think erotica gets a bad rap for several reasons. Firstly, it’s written and read by women more than men. Unfortunately, work by/about/aimed towards women still tends to be regarded as frivolous. (See: anything with a female protagonist risks being labelled “chick lit”). Similarly, content connected to sex is also still treated as something shameful, dirty, secretive, or something to be embarrassed about.

I also think this is a damn shame. A lot of erotica is absolutely wonderful. Masturbation is important, sex is important, arousal is important! Despite myths to the contrary, writing good smut is hard work and requires a lot of skill.

Read on to find out why I think sexy fiction is the most underrated genre and why we can all use it in our lives.

A safe way to explore your fantasies and limits

Reading about something is generally infinitely safer than doing it. Let’s say you have a kink or interest you can’t explore in reality for some reason, or aren’t ready to explore in reality yet. Reading about it can be a great way to scratch that itch. You can’t get hurt by reading about something, no-one else’s consent is required, it’s not cheating. (Dear God, if your partner thinks erotica – or porn, or masturbation – is cheating, break up with them like three years ago).

Reading about something and exploring if it turns you on in a masturbation setting is lower pressure than exploring with another person, especially if you’re not sure if it will work for you or not.

And in case you’re wondering: yes, it’s fine to get turned on by something in fiction that you wouldn’t want to act out in real life!

Introduces you to new kinks, roles, scenes and ideas

I was reading erotic fiction with dominance and submission themes long before I was practicing BDSM in real life. Erotica helped me to discover the types of scenarios that interested me, the names and words that turn me on… and also, the things that completely leave me cold. Reading woman-on-woman scenes was actually a huge part of coming to accept my own bisexuality.

Erotica can introduce you to kinks you never knew existed (ask me how I learned that orgasm control is a thing), make you feel less alone (ask me how I discovered that I wasn’t the only freak in the world who liked to pretend to be a naughty schoolgirl and get spanked), or even help you open up lines of communication about certain kinks with your partner (ask me how I let Mr CK know I have a medical examination fetish).

If you’re not sure what you’re into? Pick up a sexy compilation collection to give you lots of ground to explore.

It can make it quicker, easier or more enjoyable to achieve orgasm

The best way for me to get going pre-wank is to read some really good smut. It works better than visual porn and, usually, better than my imagination. Plus, taking the few minutes to find a filthy story that works for me is a good way to get into a sexy headspace. If I want a long, luxurious session, taking my time to immerse myself in an erotic book is glorious. If I’m more looking for a hot quickie with myself, then a favourite story and my Doxy will get me done in ten minutes or less.

It’s great to share with a partner

As I already mentioned, sharing the erotica you enjoy can be a great way to share what turns you on with your partner. Perhaps you can’t say out loud “I want you to bend me over and spank me while you call me a dirty little slut“. But you can point them to a story with these themes that really did it for you.

Reading erotica together, or aloud to each other, is also a mega sexy thing to do. A really hot D/s scene we did a while ago involved Mr CK reading out some erotica that I’d chosen, and instructing me on when I was and wasn’t allowed to touch myself (and, of course, come).

And sometimes, it has damn good plots!

I don’t, primarily, read smut for the story. But just occasionally an erotic novel will have a plot so good that the sexy bits are almost just a very enjoyable bonus. Cooper S Beckett’s A Life Less Monogamous and Approaching the Swingularity (the latter reviewed here) are two great examples.

Is erotica for me?

Yes! Regardless of your gender, orientation or particular kinks, there’s bound to be something in the wide world of erotic fiction that appeals to you. And if no-one has written the story you want to read? Well… why not give it a go?

So where can I find good smut?

For some of my personal top picks, check out the books linked in this post.

You can also visit Literotica, an amazing free resource where thousands of amateur writers have uploaded their stories for your masturbatory pleasure. There’s a lot of crap, of course, but some real gems in there too. You can search by category, keyword or tag.

You can also find some great quick reads on Amazon Kindle. These typically cost $1 to $5 each – and you can read loads of stuff for free with a subscription to Kindle Unlimited.

Finally, of course, read your favourite sex bloggers! My “erotica” and “Masturbation Monday” tags contain all my freely available work, and you can get a new story every single Tuesday by signing up as a Patron at any level. My friend Kayla runs Masturbation Monday, which is a treasure trove of filthy delights every week. Check out Exhibit A, The Other Livvy, Tits & Test Tubes, Hannah Lockhardt and Confess Hannah for great filth from my smutty friends.

Basically: smut is great. Go read some smut.

Heads up: there are a few affiliate links in this post! All opinions are, as ever, entirely my own. Image sourced via Pixabay.

Masturbation Monday: “Canvas”

A woman with a flower tattoo on her back facing away from the camera. For a Masturbation Monday story called CanvasShe was his canvas.

Anna lay, nude, face down on the massage-bed. The whir and buzz of the machinery had long ago lulled her into a meditative state. This, combined with the delicious pain down one side of her back and the occasional reassuring touches from her Master, made Anna feel as though she were floating. She was only dimly aware, on the edges of her consciousness, that she was so wet she was surely soaking the towels beneath her.

She had never wanted a tattoo before she met Cameron. Sure, she could admire the beauty and artistry when she saw them on other people, but the idea of getting one herself scared her. Not the pain, so much, but the permanence. Could etching something on her skin for life ever be a good idea? Cam had changed all that. Not just a tattooist but a true artist, he prided himself on creating beautiful, unique work for every client and giving them something they could look at and admire for years to come.

“I want you to tattoo me,” she told him on the eve of her fortieth birthday. “For my birthday.”

Cam had pursed his lips, fork hovering in mid air on the way to his mouth in surprise. “Are you sure?” he’d asked. She nodded emphatically. “Okay. What sort of tattoo do you want?”

“Something beautiful. Something us. I want it to mark me as yours.”

Cam had simply nodded, and they had gone on with their meal. This morning, she had come downstairs to find the massage bed laid out in the living room, and Cam setting up his equipment. He’d asked her if she was sure. She told him she had never been more sure of anything.

She wondered what he – her Dom, her Master, her Love – was putting on her body.

No names, she’d said emphatically. And nothing that I can’t show off in public if we go to the beach or the pool. Beyond those stipulations, she’d given him freedom – her body to use as his canvas.

The whirring slowed and stopped. Pausing from his work, Cam stroked a hand down the middle of Anna’s back, carefully avoiding his fresh handiwork. She drew in her breath.

“How are you doing, my love?” he asked her.

“I’m perfect,” she whispered back.

“There’s still an hour or two of work to finish it off. But you’re being such a good girl, you deserve a treat first.” His hand was rubbing her arse as he said these words. He delivered a sharp smack to each cheek, making her squeal in pleasurable pain. Then his fingers were sliding down past her arse, between her legs, pushing them slightly apart. She blushed furiously, thankful he could not see her face, knowing what he was going to find.

“You’re dripping,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice, as his fingers found the core of her arousal. “Why is that, slut?”

“I like the pain. And you putting your permanent mark on me. And…” she trailed off as one finger slid inside her cunt. He quickly found her G-spot and pressed against it firmly, while his thumb found her erect clitoris and started to circle it. Anna gasped and lifted her hips eagerly from the table to meet his fingers.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he murmured, rubbing her clit a little more firmly. “Plenty of the women I tattoo get aroused during. And the men, too.” She moaned, this thought producing another flood of wetness in her cunt. “Only I don’t do this to them, of course. But I can always spot which ones are the masochists. The ones who get all gooey eyed and floaty like you were doing just now. And I know they’ll go home and wank off furiously when I’m done with them.”

She was humping his hand with abandon now. A second finger joined the first in her vagina, while his thumb continued its assault of her now very swollen clit.

“Sir, I’m close…” she moaned. Cam grinned, wondering for just a second whether he should stop and do the rest of the tattoo while she tried not to squirm with unfulfilled arousal. But she was such a good girl, and this was a special occasion.

“Come on then, girl,” he commanded, redoubling his efforts. Then he leaned forward and murmured into her ear, “come for me, my love.”

Anna’s whole body jerked as she came, gushing over Cam’s hand and soaking through the towels beneath her. The sound she made was half mewl, half growl. Then her Master was withdrawing his fingers from her, stroking her hair, telling her she was a good girl. Her cunt spasmed, sending aftershocks through her body. She could not remember the last time she had come so explosively and so quickly.

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.

She heard the buzz as Cam started up his tattoo machine again. “Lie still now, sweetheart, and let me finish decorating you.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday, every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image is by the gorgeous Marie Rebelle and was originally published as “Negative”.

 

Masturbation Monday: “Through a Crack in the Door…”

The house is quiet. At first, I think there’s no-one home. He must have gone out to work. But then, at the end of the corridor, I notice the bedroom light on. The door is slightly ajar.

A picture of Edge Ecstatic, a naked white man damp from the shower, pictured from hips to shoulders.I shut the from door silently behind me, grinning to myself, knowing what my husband must be up to. I creep down the hall towards the bedroom.

Through the slightly open door, I have the perfect view of the bed – and the perfect view of him. He’s lying on his back in all his gorgeous, naked glory, eyes closed, right hand slowly stroking up and down his erect cock. I love watching him play with himself. I love the completely different way it lets me see his pleasure and his body. But somehow it’s even hotter when he doesn’t know I’m watching. It’s so natural. So… un-staged.

I watch his chest move up and down as his breathing quickens in time with the hand jerking his cock. A little gasp escapes from his lips. A drop of pre-come beads on the end of his shaft and slowly trickles out.

He’s close now. I can tell by the way his grip tightens, his hand moving faster and faster. I realise that I am holding my breath, and that my own cock is rock solid beneath my jeans. His hips are lifting up off the bed, thrusting his cock into his own hand the way he does into mine when I wank him off.

He groans loudly as he reaches his climax. Come splashes onto his stomach. I am overcome with the desire to crawl onto the bed beside him and lick it from his sweat-damp skin. Instead, I back away without making a sound, back down the hall towards the door. I wait a few seconds, then open the door and slam it loudly.

“Hi honey! Are you home?”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday, every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image is of the gorgeous EdgeEcstatic.

Masturbation Monday: “Dining Alone”

Today’s Masturbation Monday comes from a prompt by Mr CK – “write about going to a restaurant and getting it on with the hot waitress.” Well okay then!

A woman sitting alone reading at a restaurant table. For a Masturbation Monday piece called "Dining Alone". I noticed her the moment I walked in. Long waves of red hair, barely contained by the sensible ponytail, curves filling the modest-yet-sexy knee length black dress, a smattering of freckles from the summer sun across the bridge of her nose, grey-green eyes. So my type it hurts.

So straight it hurts, I tell myself as she asks me where I’d like to sit and shows me to a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant. The girls you like always are. I’ve been on this business trip ten days and I’m sick of everything this boring little town has to offer – which isn’t much. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I stepped off the plane.

I order my glass of wine, my starter, my main course, and each time she comes to take an order or bring me something I try not to stare. The shape of her breasts in that dress – not to mention the fact that I haven’t had sex or even masturbated in weeks – has my cunt dripping into my knickers. I reach into my bag for my book, the book I’ve been secretly reading at night in my hotel room. Do I actually dare read it here, in public?

Fuck it, I think. No-one here is paying attention, and even if they do, they don’t know me.

Of course, the filth on the page just has me even wetter, reading about women doing filthy things to each other and imagining the beautiful waitress in those scenarios with me.

“What are you reading?” she asks, coming over to clear my starter plate away. I jump and look up guiltily, slamming the book shut and shoving it onto my lap under the table. To my disbelief, she reaches down and grabs it to take a look.

Best Lesbian Erotica,” she reads out loud, an eyebrow raised. Her gaze moves from the book cover to my now scarlet face. “Really now?”

“Research…” I stammer.

“Sure, babe.” She hands the book back to me. “More wine?”

“What? Oh. Uh. Yes. Please.”

She takes my glass and saunters away without another word. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was swinging her hips and ass deliberately to taunt me. Not knowing what else to do, I return to my book. When she brings my wine and, a few minutes later, my main course, I dare to flash what I hope is a flirtatious smile at her.

Judge me for reading porn in public, I dare you!

“Is everything okay?” she asks, appearing by my table again as I’m half way through my spaghetti alla carbonara. I nod, my mouth full. She pulls a pen out of her breast pocket, grabs the spare napkin from the unused place setting opposite me, scrawls a quick note and shoves it towards me. This all seems to happen in a single fluid movement, and she’s walking away again.

Shift finishes in twenty. When you see me go through the door in the far left corner, follow me – code is 1013. Don’t let my colleague see you. We won’t be disturbed. 

I nearly choke on my mouthful of spaghetti. Even as I’m telling myself that this is insane, I know that I will go. After all, when a beautiful woman summons you with such calm authority, what else can you do?

I keep my eyes on my food and occasionally glance at my watch as the ten minutes ticks down. At precisely one minute past ten, I watch out of the corner of my eye as she waves goodnight to her colleague and saunters to the back of the restaurant and out of sight.

Am I really going to do this? Do I dare? In a second, I decide. I throw down enough cash to cover my meal and a generous tip – a very generous tip – and head in the same direction, one eye on the other waitress, now the only person working. As she’s ringing up another customer, I seize my moment, punch in the code, and shut the “staff only” door behind me. I just have time to take note of that fact that we’re in a large and deserted commercial kitchen, all silver and chrome, when…

“I knew you’d come.”

She’s sitting on one of the shiny counter-tops, stockinged feet now free of her high-heeled shoes, sipping from a glass of what looks like whisky on the rocks.

“I don’t really know…”

I was going to say I don’t really know why I did, but she cuts me off. “Shush. You’ve been eye-fucking me since the moment you walked in. Lucky for you, I think you’re kinda cute too.” She hops down and comes towards me. She’s shorter than me without her tall shoes, but the confidence and power she exudes leaves me in no doubt who’s in charge.

My mind starts to race. Is she toying with me? Is this some kind of joke? What if someone walks in at any second? Then she presses her perfect, red, whisky-flavoured lips to mine, and I stop thinking about anything at all.

She pushes me back against the closed door, fingers twisting their way into my hair as we kiss. I think I moan, but the sound is swallowed by the kiss. I cannot remember the last time my cunt was so wet from nothing more than kissing and feeling someone’s body pressed up against mine.

She nudges my legs apart with her hand, then brings her leg between mine, thigh pressing against my cunt. Even through my tights and knickers, I’m sure she can feel the heat and wetness. Shameless, now, I grind against her, desperate for more stimulation. God, how long has it been? Can a few short weeks of no sex really make me into such a wanton slut?

I gasp when the leg is moved and replaced by her hand, the ends of long, elegant fingers dancing ever-so-softly against my cunt through the two thin layers of clothing. She’s teasing me, because she can see how much I want it.

“Please…” I whimper against her mouth.

“Is this what you want?” she asks, slipping her hand under the waistband of my tights and into my knickers, making contact with my desperate cunt at last. My gasp of pleasure is the answer she needs. When her fingers make contact with my clit and begin to circle it, I cannot help my moaning.

“You have to be quiet,” she says. “Can’t have you getting me caught and in trouble. If you make too much noise I’ll have to stop.” Her calm dominance and her talented fingers have me weak at the knees, gladly wanting to do anything she says, anything to please her. Another rush of wetness coats my already soaked panties.

I’ve always been loud in bed. It’s just the way I am. Back in my university days, my housemates hated it when I brought this girl or that boy home for a night of passion (which was often) because it meant none of them were getting any rest that night. But I believe this beautiful woman when she tells me that she will stop fingering me if I make too much noise, and all I want in the world right now is for her fingers to keep going, keep pushing me towards bliss.

Her rubbing has changed. Faster now, and harder, my own juices providing all the lubrication we need. I bury my face in her shoulder, in her hair, to hold back my sounds. My clit feels harder than I can ever remember it being, and I’m thrusting my hips, humping her hand with my cunt. I’m so close! For some reason it comes to me to ask her permission.

“Please can I come?” I whisper frantically.

“Just from this little bit of attention? God, you really were gagging for it, weren’t you?”

The flush of embarrassment nearly pushes me over the edge. “Oh, god, please…”

“You can come if you can do it quietly.”

My mouth opens into a scream but no sound comes out. Somehow, holding the sound in makes my orgasm even more intense and I come, harder than I have ever come before, in this stranger’s hand.

As I grab at the wall to steady myself, she places a small kiss upon my lips and then withdraws her hand from my knickers and shoves her sticky fingers into my mouth.

“Clean your mess up,” she orders. I suck the fingers clean, the musky smell and taste of my own cunt making me realise how much I want to taste hers.

“Can I…?” I ask, already crouching before her and starting to push her dress up.

“No. My colleague will be in here any minute and you need to be gone by then.” I swallow my disappointment as my hopes of getting to bury my face between her perfect legs are dashed. Then, perhaps inspired by her, I have a flash of daring.

“Quick. Give me your phone.” She does. I punch in the name of my hotel and my room number. “I’m here two more nights. Come and find me and I’ll return the favour.”

It’s not until she’s kissed me once more and then shoved me out of the back door and into the night that I realise I never caught her name.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday, every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

Masturbation Monday: “Rope Space”

A black and white shot of a person's hands bound with rope behind their back.He pulls your hands behind your back.

I laze on the bed while he slowly ties you up. To start with, I ask you questions. Does this pinch? Does that hurt? How do your hands feel? Any numbness or tingling? It is my job – well, ours – to take care of you as you willingly make yourself helpless.

He wraps the rope under and then over your bust, framing your gorgeous breasts. I want to bite your cute little nipples, but I mustn’t get in the way as he turns you into a piece of human art.

“The thing I love the most about rope,” I tell you, “is the smell“. I grab a fresh coil of jute from the pile on the bed and hold it out for you to sniff. The sigh that escapes your lips tells me that you get it, too.

He pulls the wraps tighter, cinches them in place with a twist just under your arm.

Your breathing is a little faster. You’re no longer forming sentences. Your eyes have changed. I recognise this – this slipping away of coherent thought as you let yourself surrender. It’s happened to me, too. Hundreds of times, his hands and his ropes have reduced me to putty. And now it’s happening to you in front of me. But I’m not jealous, nor even envious. No. It is a profound privilege to watch my lover introduce you to this bliss I know so well.

He instructs you to kneel on the bed and pushes you down onto your front.

Rope circles your left ankle. I stroke your hair. Grasp a handful of it and tug. Tell you you’re a good girl and breathe in the scent of your arousal, which surely must be dripping onto the sheet beneath you by now.

He binds your leg in on itself. The right leg follows. I go to ask you if you’re still okay, but the little smile and half-closed eyes tells me all I need to know.

He pulls your legs up and fastens them together, then to the back of your chest harness. You whimper softly. I squeeze your hand, tell you again how good you are.

He moves back to admire his handiwork. You, transformed into art on our bed. You are beautifully helpless and helplessly beautiful. Our willing toy. And I know we have only just begun all the ways in which we will play with you before the night is over.

Today’s Masturbation Monday is a true story! All thanks go to Mr CK and the gorgeous girl who lived this with me and gave me all the rope-feelz I’ve been experiencing this week. Masturbation Monday is created and run by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what others are getting off to this week. If you enjoyed this piece, please consider supporting me on Patreon (where you’ll get #BonusSmut every Tuesday!) or buying me a coffee. 

Masturbation Monday: “Charity Dinner”

[Inspired by Exhibit A and his suit-porn.]

A man's body in a suit and tie. For a masturbation monday post about a charity dinnerHe looks so fucking hot in his suit.

Truth be told, I hate these stuffy, fancy dinners. Disgustingly wealthy people bidding huge amounts of money for shit they don’t actually want (just donate the fucking money, Bob, God) and food that is always mediocre at best, considering the price-tag. But this is Richard’s work, and I know it’s important to him, so I put on the flouncy cocktail dress and curl my hair and play the dutiful wife, hanging on his arm and sipping Prosecco and charming people I don’t care about who bore the knickers off me.

Well, they would if I was wearing any.

The one good thing about all this, as I said, is that my husband looks fucking gorgeous in his suit. From our wedding to nights out at sex clubs (because what good upstanding Finance Director doesn’t have a sordid secret life!?) to these dinners we occasionally have to endure, whenever he puts it on, I just want to swoon into a puddle at his feet.

I decided in the shower that I was going to make this evening a bit more interesting. So no-one knows that, underneath my demure dress and stockings – below the knee, not too sheer – I’m not wearing panties and I’ve got kegel balls shoved inside my cunt. No-one except my husband, of course. And something tells me he’ll be taking full advantage before the night is up.

He whispers in my ear as we take our places for dinner.

“Every time I squeeze your leg or your hand, you’re going to squeeze your cunt around those balls. Got it?” I nod, my face impassive. “Good. Don’t let on.”

We’re seated. There’s small-talk. I’m introduced to some important client or other, sitting across the table.

“My wife, Kate.” As I reach out to shake hands, Richard’s hand slips under the tablecloth and gives my leg a little squeeze. I clench my cunt against the balls filling me up, making sure I keep my face neutral. Fuck. It feels so good.

Starter is served. Squeeze. Clench. He does it every few minutes, just enough to keep me desperately aroused but nowhere near enough to bring me close to any sort of release. I try not to squirm in my seat and to concentrate on the conversation going on around me. I keep my eyes mostly on my food, pretend I’m shy. I’m not shy, I’m just too fucking horny to concentrate on anything else?

“More wine, Kate?”

Squeeze. Fuck.

I proffer my glass, trying to keep it steady as Richard’s boss refills it, and squeeze my cunt obediently against the damn balls.

Main course comes. He’s fully toying with me now, this sadistic beautiful man by my side, never pausing from his conversation even as he reduces me to a flustered mess next to him. My cunt’s dripping. I worry I’m staining the chair beneath me.

By the time dessert appears in front of me, I think I’m going to scream if I don’t get my release soon. It takes all my strength not to start humping the air like the ridiculous horny slut I am. Richard is now holding my hand on the table and surreptitiously squeezing it every few seconds. Bastard.

I hit the edge. A few more seconds and I’ll come, right here at this table in front of these suited strangers. Fuuuuuck. I drop my dessert fork and it hits the floor with a loud clatter, causing everyone on the table to look at me. I blush bright red and start to duck under the table to retrieve it, but a waiter has already rushed over with a new one for me.

“You’re so clumsy, darling,” Richard says. “Have you had too much wine?” To everyone else it looks like gentle, loving ribbing. But I see the flash in his grey eyes and I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s got me right where he wants me.

Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. I look at him pleadingly. Please don’t do this. A harder squeeze, telling me to be good, to not let him down now.

I clench as hard as I can. It’s enough. I come, my cunt spasming around the hard silicone balls. I cross my legs, feeling the gush of wetness running out of me, biting my tongue to hold in the moan and trying not to make my squirming too obvious.

Richard leans forward to better hear the conversation on the other side of the table. No-one but me can read the self-satisfied smirk playing around the corner of his lips. He’s pleased with me. And I know that as soon as we get home, the kegel balls in my cunt are going to be replaced by his cock.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction every Tuesday by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

 

Masturbation Monday: “Private Tuition”

[This story depicts a consensual roleplay scenario between adults. All characters are above the legal age of consent.] 

A woman lying face down on a bed wearing a black top with a lacy bottom, her butt on display. For a piece of schoolmaster cane erotica.

Gem shifts in her seat, her butt aching from sitting too long in the uncomfortable wooden chair. She glances to her left, where Hannah appears to be engrossed in her work. A few feet away, Sir sits at his desk typing on his computer. They’re supposed to be working in silence. Punishment for whispering and giggling during his lecture earlier.

Fuck this, Gem thinks. Time to make this a little more interesting.

Very slowly, one eye on their Professor at all times, she reaches a hand across the couple of feet of space between them and pokes Hannah in the side. Hannah jumps and yelps. Lightning-quick, Gem pulls her hand back and returns to her book.

“Is there a problem?” Sir asks, his gaze on Hannah.

“No, Sir.”

Gem fights to keep the smirk off her face. A minute passes. When she’s sure Sir’s full attention is back on his screen, she reaches a hand out again and – so quickly Hannah barely has time to register what’s happening – tips Hannah’s open book onto the floor. It lands with a clatter in the quiet room. Gem is already writing again, her face a picture of innocence.

“Hannah!” Sir’s voice booms across the room as the other girl scrambles to retrieve her book.

“Sorry, Sir.”

He stands, comes around to the front of his desk. “Come over here.” Hannah stares. “Hurry up, girl, I haven’t got all day.” Hannah reluctantly gets up and goes to the front of the room. Her black skirt is so short it barely covers her ass. Slut, Gem thinks.

“Do you want to explain to me why you seem to be unable to follow simple instructions like study in silence?”

“It was Gemma, Sir. She prodded me and made me jump and then she pushed my book off the desk.”

“Is that true, Gemma?”

Gem glances up, her eyes wide in feigned surprise.

“No, Sir. I’ve just been sitting here doing my work, Sir.”

Sir is sure she’s lying, of course. But he’s not going to turn down the opportunity to punish two little sluts for the price of one.

“You’ve been nothing but trouble lately,” he tells Hannah. “I think it’s time you learn what happens to bratty girls who can’t behave in my classroom.” He goes to the cupboard in the corner of the classroom. Gem feels her eyes widen, and watches Hannah’s do the same, when they both see that he’s taken out a long rattan cane, the type wielded by Victorian schoolmasters in old TV dramas.

“Bend over my desk,” Sir tells Hannah, flexing the evil-looking thing between his hands. Hannah takes a step backwards, stuttering something unintelligible. “Don’t make me tell you again, girl, or it’ll be worse for you.”

This can’t be happening, Gem thinks, all pretense of focusing on her studies out of the window, gaze fixed on Hannah to see what the other girl will do. There’s a second where Hannah glances over Sir’s head at the door, as if considering running and then deciding against it. After the longest ten seconds or so in history, she turns and bends over the desk, resting on her elbows and forearms with her butt in the air. From her vantage point, Gem can just see the crease where Hannah’s bottom joins her thighs beneath the ridiculously short skirt.

This has got to be some kind of insane dream, Hannah thinks, bracing herself against the hard wooden surface of the desk. Any minute she’ll wake up and she’ll go knock on Gem’s door and tell her flatmate all about the crazy dream she had about being caned by their sexy, straight-laced Professor. Yet even as she thinks this, she realises there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to wake up.

She’s brought back to the knowledge that this is very, very real by the touch of a large hand on her ass through her skirt. Then Sir is flipping her skirt up and over her lower back, revealing her bottom covered only by the flimsiest of lacy knickers. He caresses her again, making her draw in her breath sharply. This is so humiliating! And yet…

“I’m going to give you ten strokes of the cane. Are you going to count them for me like a good girl?” Hannah hears herself whimper.

The first stroke surprises her more than in hurts her.

“One…” she manages to gasp, catching her breath and bracing herself for the second strike.

The second stroke is more painful, landing in exactly the same spot as the first. It’s a sharp, stinging pain that settles to a dull ache.

“Two.”

He strokes her ass between each stroke, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the pain.

Thwack. “Three.”

Crack. “Four.”

She hears herself moan with the fourth stroke. The shocking realisation comes to her: she’s enjoying this. She’s always enjoyed a bit of spanking in the bedroom with boyfriends, but this is somehow different. It hurts more, yes, but it’s also more… the word comes to her, humiliating. More erotic. As the fifth stroke lands, she realises she’s dripping wet and hopes Sir – and Gem – don’t notice.

“Five.”

Gem watches, mesmerised, from her seat. The way Hannah’s ass jiggles slightly with each stroke of the cane, the beautiful red lines that are starting to appear on her pale skin, and the way her little whimpers have given way to moans have her transfixed. She can’t deny it – she’s more turned on than she can remember being in a long time. She squirms in her seat, feeling her wetness coating her knickers and wishing she was brave enough to slip a hand under the waistband of her skirt and finger herself.

Sir runs a finger along the elasticated waist of Hannah’s panties. “Let’s get these off.”

“Oh, no, please…” Hannah protests.

“Shut up, little slut, you’re not in control here.” The sh0ck and embarrassment at being called a slut by her Professor sends another rush of arousal to Hannah’s cunt. She is powerless to fight back as Sir peels the thin lace from her ass and down over her legs, leaving them around her knees.

“Hannah.” His voice is stern.

“Sir?”

“Why are your knickers wet?”

Fuck. She doesn’t know what to say.

“I… I don’t…” She’s silenced by his hand stroking her ass again, soothing the burning lines made by the cane.

“Are you enjoying this, little slut? Does getting caned make you wet?” She shakes her head vehemently. “We’ll see. Soon Gemma and I will both find out just how wet you are. But before then you’ve got a few more strokes to go, haven’t you?”

Gem’s aroused squirming has intensified. She’s rocking her ass gently in her chair, thrusting her cunt against thin air.

Whack. “What number was that, Hannah?”

“Six, Sir.”

Whack. “Seven.”

Oh, god, Hannah thinks. It hurts more without her panties – however thin – cushioning her ass, of course. But the eroticism and embarrassment of standing here, bent over a desk with her soaked knickers around her knees, is almost too much to bear.

“The last three are going to be harder. Are you going to take them for me, little slut? Of course you are. We all know you’re loving this.”

Stroke number eight makes her yelp. “Eight,” she gasps.

Number nine makes her squeal, but her cunt is wetter than ever. “Nine!”

The final stroke is the hardest, but before she’s even moaned out “ten,” Hannah finds herself disappointed that her punishment is over. She’s never been so turned on in her life. She starts to straighten up, to reach for her knickers and pull them back up, but Sir’s hand is on her back and holding her in position.

“Don’t you move.” His fingers run over her ass and dip down to just before her cunt lips. “Spread your legs,” Sir orders. Hannah obeys, burying her face against her arms on the desk to hide her blushes. She’s so very humiliated… why does it turn her on so much?

She gasps as she feels his fingers make contact with her swollen outer labia, and then trace their way along to the opening of her cunt.

“It’s a fucking flood down here,” she hears him say. “You really do like being caned, don’t you, little slut?” He strokes her cunt tantalisingly gently, running his fingers through her black curls of pubic hair, teasing her but never making contact with her clit, the centre of her desire which is now throbbing in desperate need to be touched.

Gem, unable to contain herself any more, has slid a hand between her legs and is teasing her own cunt over her knickers. Watching her sexy friend be caned, teased and humiliated has left her feeling by turns envious and thankful it’s not her, but most of all, aroused as hell.

Hannah thrusts back against Sir’s teasing hand, trying to get the stimulation where she needs it the most.

“Awww,” he taunts her, “does little slut want her little clit touched?” In answer, Hannah whimpered and tried again to grind her cunt against his hand. He pulled it away, leaving her aching. “Uh-uh, not today. You’re being punished, remember? It’s too bad you’re such a filthy girl that it gets you all squirmy and needy.”

Hannah wants to protest, to beg, but he’s already pulling her knickers back up, smoothing them into place over her sore ass, and flipping her skirt back down to cover whatever semblence of dignity she has left. She lets out an unsatisfied whimper.

“Gemma.”

A nervous knot forms in Gem’s stomach as she pulls her hand away from her wet cunt. “Sir?”

“Take her home and edge the hell out of her. It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t come before next week’s class. If she does, I’ll lock you both in chastity belts for the rest of the semester.”

Did you enjoy this piece? You can find out what happens when Gem gets Hannah home in #BonusSmutTuesday, exclusively for Patreon supporters. Sign up at any level to get access.

 

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what other deliciousness is getting people off this week.

#SoSS 24 March 2018: Eroticon Edition

#SoSS or #ShareOurShitSaturday comes from a call to action by the fabulous Girl on the Net, calling on all those who love the work of sex-positive creators (writers, bloggers, photographers, artists, educators) to share our work (“share our shit”) far and wide. This is particularly important in the wake of Facebook deleting accounts, Twitter shadow-banning, and Instagram shutting down anything with “BDSM” or “sex” in the name.

For a lot of us, this work is both our passion and the way we make our living. We show up day in, day out, often for peanuts in terms of financial reward, because we believe in the content we make and we know the content we put out into the world has a positive impact on our readers.

Of course, supporting us with your £££ is amazing if you can, but sharing our shit is a way that you can support us without it costing you a penny. So, in the spirit of #SoSS, here’s an Eroticon-themed roundup of some of my favourite content from across the blogosphere this week…

1. A Pub Gang -Bang by Tits & Test Tubes

This post-Eroticon fantasy scene has got it all – group sex, humiliation, spanking and more. It’s so, so good… and makes me even happier because I’m kinda in it. (No, I’m not telling you which character I am, you can use your imagination). Jadis is a serious up-and-coming talent in the sex blog-o-sphere.

2. I Lost My Sexuality for a Year by Miss Eve E

This is a stunning, personal and powerful account of Eve’s last year of pain and illness, and how that affected her sexual desire. Her experience really shows how so much of the medical world doesn’t take sexuality – or sexual side-effects of pain and medication – seriously. But it’s untimately a story of hope, as she talks about how Eroticon helped her to reclaim her sexuality and she will continue to do so in 2018. Really important.

3. What I Took Home from Eroticon by John Brownstone

A lovely piece on the nature and importance of community. I loved meeting JB, who together with his wife Kayla makes up the powerhouse duo behind Loving BDSM. He’s just as warm, friendly and fun in person as he is on the podcast, and this piece really speaks to me as someone who felt very alone until I finally found my community and my people.

4. Eroticon 2018: Ten Things… by The Other Livvy

A great piece from Livvy about the things she took away from Eroticon this year. Features a Star Wars joke, a lovely comment on my ridiculous Saturday night outfit, a hot-as-fuck vac bed picture, some lovely quotes, and a #SinfulSunday picture that I took.

5. Learning Post #Eroticon by Cara Thereon

Some beautiful words from Cara about the things she learned and took away from Eroticon. I loved meeting Cara – she’s lovely, smart and insightful and the piece she read out on Sunday was hot as fuck. She talks about learning about herself, facing her fears, and becoming more enmeshed in the community. I look forward to whatever she does next!

And that’s it for this week, folks. There were so many brilliant post-‘Con pieces that really spoke to me and you can read them all here. This is just a small selection of my personal favourites.

Have a great week, and don’t forget: if you like our work, SHARE IT!

Masturbation Monday: “Ask Nicely”

A nude woman lying on her side, apparently asleep, on a bed with white sheets.I’m not usually allowed to wear clothing in the house. He says it covers up my pretty body, which should be readily accessible to him at all times. The only exceptions to this rule are when I’m cold and I ask permission to wear a robe to keep me warm, or when he wants me to wear something in particular that’s appealing to him. After several years of this protocol, nudity has come to feel like my natural state. It’s when he tells me to put something on that I know fun things are about to happen.

He kisses me awake, first my eyelids then my lips. My eyes flutter open. I smell hot coffee.

‘Hello, pet.’

‘Good morning, Sir,’ I say sleepily.

‘You’re going to drink your coffee, then you’re going to go and put those pretty knickers on for me. You know the ones I like – the black lace.’ My cunt twinges and I feel a knot of excitement growing in my belly. This sounds like a very promising prelude to something.

I sip my coffee leisurely while I allow my mind to wander to what might be on Sir’s mind. My cunt is getting ridiculously wet already. Sir always tells me it’s embarrassing how drippy I get. I tell him it’s because he won’t let me touch it without permission, and at least half the times I ask for permission he tells me no. Then he laughs at me and calls me a silly desperate slut and reminds me that he’ll lock it away in a chastity belt if he ever catches me touching it without permission. I don’t. The ache is hard, but disappointing him would be a thousand times worse.

I swing my legs out of bed and pad over to the chest of drawers, pluck out the requested knickers and slip them over my hips, smoothing the lace over my ass. I also pull my hair out from its ponytail and shake it out over my shoulders. Sir likes it loose and flowing – more to grab on to, he says.

He comes back in just as I’m admiring my reflection in the full-length mirror.

‘Yes, you’re gorgeous,’ he agrees, looking at me approvingly from across the room. ‘Now get over here and get on your knees.’

I scurry across the room and fall to my knees at his feet. He strokes my hair, tells me I’m a good girl, his pretty kitty. I melt.

He moves behind me and I hear him grabbing something from the drawer where we keep our toys. I know better than to turn around and see what he’s doing. I feel him crouch behind me, brush my hair aside and kiss my neck. A shiver runs down my spine and through my body. My nerves are taut, waiting. Fuck. This man knows how to play my reactions like an instrument.

The rope encircles my left wrist. He ties it off in a quick single-column and then secures it fast to my ankle. The right side gets the same treatment. I test the bonds, just to make quite sure I can’t wriggle out of them.

‘Keep still, slut.’

He moves back to stand before me. Grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me by it into the kneeling-up position. Kisses me hard. I moan against his mouth, entirely taken. Entirely his. God, I’m dripping. I must be staining the pretty panties and probably the carpet beneath me, too.

He releases me. I watch, sure that my hunger is evident in my face, as he unbuttons his jeans and lets his hard cock spring free.

‘You want this?’ he asks, gently stroking it with one hand, inches from my face. I nod furiously. ‘Of course you do, cock-loving slut that you are. You’re going to have to ask really nicely though.’

‘Please can I have your cock, Sir?’

‘Where do you want it?’

‘In my mouth, Sir.’

‘Mmmm, are you sure you don’t just want to watch me get myself off over your lovely body?’

I shake my head. ‘No, Sir. Please let me suck your cock and serve you, Sir.’

With his free hand, he grabs one of my protruding nipples and twists it painfully. I squirm in my restraints. The other nipple gets the same treatment. I let out a squeak of pain. I am sure I see his hand grip his cock more tightly, stroking faster.

He laughs lightly. ‘Poor slut. It must be torture watching me wank in front of you, knowing your hands are tied and you can’t get what you want so much?’

‘Please, Sir…’

‘Mmm, I like it when you beg. But no.’

I whimper. It is, as he correctly identified, torture having his beautiful cock so close to me and not being allowed to touch it or suck it the way I want to.

‘Today I’m just going to use you as a decorative toy to get off over.’

He strokes his cock harder. He moans and I watch the way his body tenses as he brings himself closer to orgasm. Then his hand is in my hair again, dragging my mouth to his, the kiss swallowing the sound he makes when he comes. His tongue finds its way into my mouth as I feel his come splash over my breasts.

He pulls back and looks down at me, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Filthy girl. Let’s get you untied and in the shower.’ A final kiss. ‘Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to get my cock in your mouth next time.’

Masturbation Monday is a meme started by Kayla Lords. Click the badge below to see what other smutty treats folks have got for you this week. If you enjoyed this piece, consider supporting me on Patreon – there’s bonus smut there every Tuesday for patrons at all levels, which will sometimes be related to my MM post and sometimes be a stand-alone. This week’s image is by Molly Moore and shared with permission as part of Masturbation Monday.