Skip to main content


Showing posts from October, 2018

#StoryIn12 - October

Every day,  the #StoryIn12 flash fiction meme on twitter challenges writers to write a “complete” story in exactly 12 words, that includes the prompt word for that day. #StoryIn12 is the creation of Molly (aka @mollysdailykiss ) and  Wriggly Kitty (aka @Wriggly_Kitty ). Here are mine for this month: Student  – He was an accomplished student in the art of igniting her pleasure. Tissue  – The grand promises, inevitably turned out to be a tissue of lies. Glass  – Wiping the condensation from the glass, he looked contemplatively through the window. Square  – He walked briskly across the square, scattering pigeons with each purposeful stride. Direct – The maestro wielded his baton, seemingly without effort, to direct the orchestra. Owe – I have come to claim payment of the debt you owe me. Dash – A dash of Worcestershire sauce unleashed the flavours of his signature dish. Attic – The attic had always been a conflicting combination of apprehension and safety. Prison

Time Is Fleeting

In the right circumstances, I’ve always quite enjoyed a good quickie. Now, granted I wouldn’t want every fuck that I have to fall into the “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” category, but sometimes that’s what’s needed. There are, I’ll admit, few things that beat a long, drawn out, sex session with fondling, foreplay and lots of seriously good fucking in numerous positions; possibly doing it more than once if time allows and the flesh is capable. Sometimes, however, time is not on the side of slow, sensual sex marathons. Sometimes the need within us is too urgent for drawn out seduction and foreplay. Sometime both of these conditions can occur simultaneously. That’s when the quickie comes into its own. One particular experience happened when a particular friend (with definite benefits) of mine intimated that she had a particular need. I was, at the time, en route between appointments but, as luck would have it, my route didn’t require much of a detour to take me to hers. It was fast,

Finding Inspiration

Inspiration is all around. At least, it can be.  I tend to draw my sources from daily life. Sometimes a conversation will send my mind down avenues that I want to explore. A post, or tweet from another blogger may sometimes jog my own thoughts on a particular subject. Casually observing people going about their lives, their interactions with others can also trigger the imagination, particularly when it comes to writing fiction. Memes such as  #MasturbationMonday , #TMITuesday , #WickedWednesday , #Food4TThought , #KinkOfTheWeek or The Erotic Journal Challenge can also provide much need inspiration with their weekly/fortnightly prompts. I’ve mentioned before that, when it comes to the stories I write, there is combination of imagination and experience, in varying proportions, in every one. A particular experience, a memory, or sometimes even the anticipation of something that is still to happen can, when mixed with the correct quantity of “artistic” licence, result in something

Word for Wednesday - Oblivion

Oblivion /uh–bliv-ee-uh n/ noun the state of being completely forgotten or unknown the state of forgetting or of being oblivious the act or process of dying out; complete annihilation or extinction For those of us with depression, and other mental health conditions, there can often be something quite seductive about the state of oblivion. It can, however, mean different things for different people. For some, oblivion is a longing for death as an escape; an end of suffering. For others, it is all about the state of forgetting; about being able to somehow eliminate the negative energy that permeates every thread of their existence. For me, it is something slightly different. I’m not going to lie; there are times that I wish I were dead. I don’t want to kill myself or be killed. I don’t actually want to die; I simply want to be dead. I want to no longer feel, to no longer be aware. I want to just give up. I have no desire to exist. But that’s not what oblivion mean


Marked by Kilted Wookie Her skin was marked. Hot lines, angry lines; such a contrast from the pale, soft white skin between them. They were the lingering evidence of the belt’s kiss. In her mind, she relived the thrashing; feeling the hot tears on her face as she was made to count each stinging lash. Just as it had when the leather had bit, she felt her cunt grow moist as she remembered each impact. The anticipation, the sound of the belt as it swished through the air, followed by the crack of contact on her backside had an almost comfortable familiarity; a pace and rhythm that repetition did not dull. The crisp sharpness of each lash delivered a measured dose of pain and pleasure, each one building on the last. She had maintained a determined silence at first, uttering only the count of each stroke through clenched teeth. His delivery was, however, as merciless as it was precise. The pain intensified with each caress until each count was punctuated with sobs. Lost wi

Synergy - Not Always Greater Than The Sum Of The Parts

It should come as no surprise to anyone reading this, that cunnilingus is, and pretty much always has been, one of my favourite activities. If you didn’t know this about me already, where have you been? It also won’t (or at least shouldn’t) surprise anyone that, by virtue of being male, I am also a big fan of getting my cock sucked . So, with that, you would think that if you apply the logic of synergy and take two things that I really enjoy and combine them, then the results would be mind-blowing. Sadly, however, as a general rule, that isn’t always, or indeed, almost ever, actually the case. Now, I’m not knocking 69 (yes, OK, I suppose I am actually), it can be a lot of fun. It definitely involves all the senses and is extremely intimate. But, and it’s a big but, as fas as being an overwhelming sexual experience goes, it leaves a lot (in my opinion) to be desired. Now, I confess, the first time I did it, as a randy teenager, I was like “WOW! Fuck! That’s intense! I’ve GOT t

Special Places

In a way, this kinds of links back to last week’s post . While Friday may have been my birthday, that’s not really something that means much to me. I keep track of the passing of the years more through the steadily increasing creaks, aches and pains, along with the greying and thinning of my hair rather than paying attention to the actual number. No, for me, what is more important is that at this point in the year (i.e. late September/early October), as part of my self-care routine, I take myself away for one or two weeks to relax and recharge. I don’t always go to the same place, as I enjoy experiencing new things, but there is a place I do tend to return to quite regularly; a quiet little place on the north-west corner of the Greek island of Corfu that has, not one, but two fantastic beaches (and a particularly lovely taverna with the most amazing views, and very good beers, situated at the highest point on the ridge that separates them). The fact that both beaches welcome tho

On The Inside

Mental illness often makes me feel like an outsider; as someone who is always on the periphery and not quite part of group. Oddly, this doesn’t actually bother me as much as some people might think it would. Yes, it can be quite a lonely existence sometimes, but I’ve always been a bit of a loner, someone who keeps their own counsel and has learned to depend on myself. If you were to look up “introvert” in an illustrated dictionary, you’d stand a fair chance of seeing a picture of me there as a definition. Like a lot of people with mental illness, I spend a lot of time “inside my head”. I reflect on things, turning them over and over in my mind; often trying to work out how I could have dealt with a particular situation more effectively. Sometimes, however, I recall something that I’ve done well and focus on that. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens just often enough to stop the lights from going out completely. I spend a lot of time looking inwards. Self analysis can, all too

TMI Tuesday: October 2, 2018 - Joy In Sex

Joy In Sex What is the most annoying thing to you during foreplay or sex? Interruptions. There really is nothing worse than just as things are slotting into place, as it were, the phone rings, there’s a knock at the door, the cat throws up on the floor in front of you. These things really do put a dampener on the mood. Tell us something you really wanted to do but let someone talk you out of when deep down you wanted to do it? This may sound unlikely, but I’m not sure there is anything. Having a sexual career spanning the best part of three decades, if there’s something I’ve wanted to do, I’ve almost certainly done it. Where I haven’t, it has been down to circumstances rather than another person telling me they didn’t want to. It’s one of those situations where communication is key and understanding and accepting each other’s boundaries prevents disappointment. During sex are you more orgasm-centred or going for an all out enjoyable experience with connection? The simple answ