"You like ‘em big?" My husband flirts with the blondie trying to haul an orange behemoth into her wheelbarrow. It seems she popped a few buttons of her plaid flannel in the process. "Aah surr' do." Her country-girl accent and dirty smile is pure temptation. "Got monster ones in the barn for the fair, wanna see 'em?" When I ask the price of those and she rakes her chocolate manicured nails on my husband’s denim-caged monst...

“You know me, I don’t make a big deal out of my birthdays.” “And you know me, how I think that’s just fucking boring!” So I made the best cake he could ever waste on his unsophisticated taste buds and served it the best way my one track mind could conjure. (In case you're wondering I used coconut oil on my butt to make it fit the part, but that's another story.) Oh and I invited a few guests too, because why not? We ought...

Heavy set of keys crash-land on granite island, her thunderous tone is cue for trouble. “Kitt-en! That’s a £200 champagne you've ruined with cheap fruit. Your naughty bottom just earned a spanking tonight.” Love-heart paddle turns my butt tender and red like the cherry on top of her Kir Royale. Sweetened with the promise to drink the rest off her delicious body, I’d endure anything. “I have a confession to make,” she purr...

I used to love Christmas parties in my previous job working at an office. Those were my kind of people: down-to-earth, chatty, witty. The Christmas party was just one of the many excuses to get together, get shit-faced, giggle and dance through the night. Now, I’m a freelancer and on top of having to do my own taxes and pay my own pension, I really do miss those work dos. So, I decided that unlike many previous years I wi...

You know. Of course, you know. You knew - at least subconsciously – when I slipped out of bed an hour ago, taking the shorter but more difficult route, over your hot, half naked body, ‘accidentally’ straddling your thigh en-route. My own body heat and wetness between my legs would have given me away. Of course, you were still in slumber land, murmuring something incoherent in your sleep. I couldn’t really make out whether...

Fifteen inches. No, no oh no, it’s not what you think. That size? Does it even exist? Do I even want to know? Do I even want to imagine what can and cannot be done with that size? No, I’m just talking about a ruler, a forty-centimetre or fifteen-whatever-inches ruler, which I’ve just found clearing out an old cupboard. I always had a thing for rulers and unknowingly hoarded a large collection of them throughout the years....

The silly old laptop was radiating extreme heat onto my lap and into my whole body, as I was browsing through the videos, clicking on anything that even remotely resembled the topic I was researching. I started to realise, there wasn’t much online about the actual practicalities of tying yourself up to your marital bed to surprise your husband, to surprise and tempt him into a little bit of kink. After almost twenty years...

“I write smut. I can show you a few things I’ve written.” “I don’t read, I think.” “Oh, really, Mr Cocky Wiz? Come over and let me be entertained by your brilliant mind then.” So he did. ... And somewhere around the time, I had his cock buried deep from behind and him pulling me up from all-fours to my knees, his arm wrapped around my neck and ordering my husband to kiss me while he denied my release for the fifth time......

Like silver glitter on a chintzy postcard, tiny prisms of lazy snowfall dazzle outside the train window. Their fat, flaky cousins would make a better job concealing the decaying train station of the listless town. Nothing seems to have changed here in the past ten years – at least not for the better. Passengers flock off the platform in gloomy patches of black and grey. I never understood why people made the winter blues...

I love all the seasons: summer for its fun beach days and the warm sun rays recharging one’s soul; winter for its beautiful scenery, when the world is covered with fresh snow and for all the winter sports; spring for the flowers, bees, and the scent of nature’s awakening. But none of them sings so much in tune with the melancholic little girl, who lives in the forgotten depths of my soul, like autumn with the changing col...

The warming sunrays of a brief Indian summer were a welcome pleasure on our cheeks after two weeks of torrential rain and glacial wind. I could once again sit outside at the local coffee shop with my best friend enjoying our pumpkin spice lattes and - for a minute - forget about the falling leaves and all the decaying things in my own life. “I thought we agreed on no phones,” Tia reminded me on her gentle, almost apologet...

Born from the union of a speed boat racer and a professional athlete, I was probably hooked on it in my mother’s womb. Being involved in the races with Dad only did it for me until my teenage years, then I wanted, needed more. A career in the forces was an obvious choice. As a little boy the sirens used to mesmerize me. I’d like to say that these days they’re just a part of my everyday life, but God, a bit ashamed to admi...

We - I - don’t plan these weekends. It’s impossible to predict when the mood will strike me, but when it does… First, I leave a subtle sign for you, like placing those boots on the stairs this morning; an undisguised hint that, this weekend, you are going to be the pet of the house, my dear. You refer to them as my ‘bitch boots’, and you have a delightfully entertaining love-hate relationship with them. They are kept for...

  Not a word, not a sound. I’m about to turn the page when your shadow alerts me to your presence, feeble footsteps absorbed into the thick pile chenille rug.   You’re standing in front of me, an unspoken question on your lips, tapping your foot silently. Your face shows no expression, doesn’t need any. I know what you want.   Tap, tap, tap.   Okay, I am game. But we’re gonna play this my way. I flick my eyes from the pag...