Sex blogs

Suzanne Portnoy recently acquired a Kindle and rather fell in love with the format. She’s asked a few of her favorite sex bloggers to contribute to a new erotic magazine she edits, available on only by subscription on Kindle. I’m honored to be among the contributors, who include some really fine smutmongers. Here are the details:

SexBlogyssey is a Kindle-only compilation of the best erotic blogging, bringing together smart, smutty writing from both sides of the Atlantic. Our contributors write about real experiences and their real lives, with a little fantasy/fiction thrown into the mix. We regularly publish new material, drawing on both new writing and the archives of our contributing bloggers.

SexBlogyssey was created by Suzanne Portnoy, author of a popular but now-retired blog describing her double life as a middle-aged single mother and entertainment publicist with a lively swinging lifestyle on the side. Other contributors include Jefferson, Bad Influence Girl, Joanne Cake, Todger Talk, Kitty Stryker, Mon Mouth, Elegant Slut, among others.

You can purchase a subscription here.

(With apologies to Jefferson for completely pilfering his intro. It’s been a tough week. Thanks, dude.)

I can see the future.

The image is not as clear-cut as one might hope, but is less blurry than one might fear.

I see the past clearer, but that’s a given — the past is a reflection of what has been, and is, as so we well know, 20:20.

In the past, I see the comforting strong arms holding her passionately, kissing her as her knees buckle, preventing her from slumping to the floor in a delirious heap.

In the past, I see her, half-naked and half-delirious, legs akimbo, head thrown back, writhing in ecstasy. I hear the guttural sounds of unadulterated and pure joy escape her lips as his tongue and teeth work  their magic on her. I see her shudder to a thundering climax that seems to last for hours – and then another, almost concurrent, shakes her into further frenzy.

In the past I see his lips meet hers, and hear them murmur to each other through passionate kisses. Not words per se, but sounds of acquiescence and wonder, or warmth and affection, of sensuality and desire.

Looking forward, the images are not so sharp, but they are very real.

I see two figures, sans clothing. She is restrained, arms secured firmly to the side. He is poised above her, teasing her body with feathery licks and nips wherever he pleases. He has her at his mercy, or so it would seem, much to the delight of them both.

I see him straighten, and the reposition himself to thrust into her — but he stops with only an inch of cock inside her yearning cunt. Their eyes meet and each holds the others’ gaze, each willing the other to break first — he for her to beg, her for him to fuck her, hard… just as they both know they want him to. Eventually, she cracks.

“Fuck me.”

“What? Say again.”

“Fuck me.”

“Do what? Why? Tell me.”

“Fuck me. Now. FUCK ME NOW.”

“Tell me why.”

“You want it.”


“I want it.”


“You need to be inside me.”


“I need you inside me.”

“Magic word?”


“Please what?”

“Please … you know what!”

“No. Say it. Tell me. Articulate.”

“Please fuck me.”

“That’s a start. Give me more.”

“Please slide your cock inside me.”


“Please fuck me before I explode with frustrated desire. Please… just, for the love of god, just please fuck me now.”


“Because I need you inside me. Because you arouse me beyond belief. Because I want us to meld. Because… I can’t focus anymore… goddamit — please!”

It is there that the future dissipates. The vision swims and swirls before my eyes, and I cannot see what happens next.

Will he fuck her, slam himself into her, make her scream with ecstasy?

I prophesize that he will.

UPDATE: We here at Juno Central find to our delight and amazement that we have once again been Fleshbotted by the very lovely Chelsea G Summers… Thank you so much, from the deepest recesses of all my fun places, Chelsea… *smooch*

“I’m going to fuck you to bits.”

She shifts so that she can kiss the top of his head.

“I should damn well hope so. And i believe you’ve started as you mean to go on.”

He holds her to him tightly, kissing her hard, one hand pinching her nipple firmly, the other deep between her labia. Their bodies entwined around each other, after that explosive and feverish reconnection fuck, as they both subside.

This is how it begins.


Entering the apartment has been the usual story. As they journeyed there, it has been the usual proper and decorous behaviour; very above board, aside from the occasional hand-squeeze or hidden fondle.

As soon as the door closes behind them, however, the atmosphere takes a turn for the seriously perverted.

Initially, his signature move: slamming her into the kitchen table and kissing, kissing, kissing; feeling her body react to his through her clothes; the heat of her cunt seeping through to the palm of his hand; the arousal in her nipples obvious by their diamond-like hardness.

Breathless and reeling, their lips eventually parting as their eyes meet, and telepathy takes over. Wordlessly, she removes her shirt, and stands before him; brazenly toying with the clasp on her bra; teasing him with her eyes; baiting him.

He grabs her face and kisses her again, as his hands roughly extricates one breast from her still fastened bra, and slaps it hard, before squeezing her nipple. She moans, and he slaps her again.

Her eyes still meet his, not wavering for a second. Challenging him.

He tenderly caresses her hair, before grasping the back of her head and forcing her down onto his cock. She opens her mouth eagerly to swallow as much of his long thick shaft as she can, gagging a little, but not allowing it to deter her.

“That’s my good little slut. Take it in, take it all in. Yes…..”

Unable to raise her head, she lies across his knees, causing the chair to wheel backwards slightly. He relaxes his hold on her, and moves his hands from their hold on her head, only to pull her toward the bed.

She doesn’t resist.

Once supine and adjacent, the kissing begins again, yet somehow even more passionate than before. The urgency has increased, the tempo has quickened, and the fever burns even brighter between them.

She tugs his shirt off him, aching to trace the beautifully sculpted muscles in his torso. Her fingertips find his pierced nipple and toy with it gently before suddenly pinching and twisting it tightly, to his obvious delight.

She’s never been a particularly consistent sub. Too damn feisty. He likes that, in an odd sort of way.

He abruptly ends this foray into switching by ripping her jeans and panties down to her knees and parting her cunt with his hand.

“God-DAMN but you’re wet. And you know I’m going to make you wetter.”

She sighs her acquiescence as he kicks her remaining clothing off, and slides three fingers straight into her.

“You want my fist in you, dirty girl?”

“Mmmm. Oh god yes, yes, yes.”

Another finger. Then the thumb. Her insides contract and shift to make room for him, and he starts to fist fuck her hard. She shudders and jolts with the intense rhythm, feeling her g-spot become her epicentre. As she nears her first orgasm, she cries out; the second apex overtakes her almost instantaneously, and the third almost as quick, pushes her yet further into bliss.

She knows that it can hit higher and deeper within her, and she abandons herself to his insistent fist inside her. She holds the building orgasmic gush within her until she finally releases it, soaking him, the sheets, and herself as she wails uncontrollably with ecstasy.

Yes, this is how it begins. Imagine how it continues.

I was hoping to see that look in your eyes.

Not that there is anything to complain about the various ways in which you’ve looked at me so far.

You’ve looked at me with anticipation, that time when your toes touched innocently touched mine, and we sat, talking about anything and everything while our feet played footsie, and neither of us acknowledged the exchange of electrical current. Until, of course, you stood up, pulled me to my feet and kissed me until i thought I’d never breathe again .

You’ve looked at me with interest, when we spoke of the way in which i do my work, and i demonstrated for you how capable i am professionally. You liked my enthusiasm, my dedication, the fact that I know what I’m talking about — and you even looked at me admiringly because of it.

And, of course, you’ve looked at me with deep desire. Many times in the past. The first time over a warm and frothy drink that i — most unusually for me — had absolutely no interest in from the split second in which your eyes met mine, just before you took my hand and kissed my lips, lightly but with passion that conveyed quite how much desire lay behind your gaze.

And many times in the future, i most sincerely hope.

No, no, I’m not complaining. Not at all. It was just a hope… a wish. That as I walked in through the door the other day, that you’d give me that look.

Oh, you know the one.

That look that says you want me, right then, right there, bent double over the kitchen counter, clothes half-on, half-off, half-strewn over chairs and free-standing kitchen units, hands on bare raw flesh, fiery lips igniting equally , explosive raw passion setting our bodies alight as they touch, causing the familiar spontaneous combustion for this position but so much hotter and faster and furious than usual that i have no time for thought, no time to consider, just to respond with matching passion, and heat, and fury until we finally burn out and collapse exhausted into each other.

Yeah, that one.