Introducing Jenby’s guest blogs makes me feel like a lowly intern announcing the arrival of the CEO: her adventures are as creative as her writing is exquisite, and I am always in awe of both. She’s the most prolific guest blogger here on the site, as well as almost certainly the kinkiest person I have ever met. Just this year she’s already told us about some fun (and romantic) sharps’ play, her first ever nyotaimori scene, and getting railed at an orgy while dressed as Marie Antoinette. I was telling a friend just this morning about Jenby’s recent hucow episode, in which she was literally milked in front of a lucky audience at a club, and my friend (herself no stranger to deliciously creative pervery) exclaimed in wonder – with wide, excited eyes – that she had just learned an awesome brand new thing. I am always honoured that Jenby brings this thrill of deviant discovery to my blog. Today she is here with another kickass story, and this one’s all about sweat. Buckets and buckets and buckets of it. Open wide.

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Almost every guy I have ever dated has told me that if they had tits themselves, they’d spend all day just staring at and playing with them. I am not getting ready to snark, or shame anyone for saying this, in fact I completely understand. Tits are fucking awesome. The thing that makes me horniest about my own body is the excellent rack stuck to the front of it. Although I don’t spend all day groping them or staring (I’m a busy girl), I do spend a fairly sizeable chunk of my time being aware of them – enjoying how they look and feel – so I thought I’d have a go at answering the unspoken question hovering beneath all those comments from all those past boyfriends. Here’s what it feels like to have tits.

Note: I’m a cis woman who has mostly dated cis dudes. I’ve tried not to be too gendered in this because tits are not exclusive to one gender, but my perspective is naturally coloured by my experiences. 

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The delight of being restrained isn’t always in the restraint itself, but in what happens while you’re tied up. Such is the case in this stunning scene written by the wonderful Missy of Focused & Filthy. She’s written some fantastic pieces here before, including introducing us to the genius concepts of the cum hat trick and ‘husband sitting‘. So I’m over the moon to welcome her back with this intense, powerful account of being tied up and given multiple orgasms…

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This stunning lazy Sunday threesome is written and read by Sundial. 

The sun kissing my feet, the window open wide letting light stream a diagonal line over the mussed up whiteness of the sheets. Your arm around me, pulling me closer to you. I lift my head onto your chest and I let my hand stray down and find your hardness in all its glory, straining against my palm. I grip and squeeze your shaft.

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I want to spit him out of me. Bear with me as I heave this blog post up, please. I have never written anything this bitter because I have never felt this way before in my life. I feel like I’ve swallowed slow-acting poison: his love is poison, and I want to spit him out of me.

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