Kissing: The Devil Is In The Details

A lipstick kiss mark, from, you know, kissing

Welcome back to my new miniseries, The Devil Is In The Details! Last time, I went into unreasonable depth about cum – what I love about it, and about everything surrounding its production – and now, we’re taking a look at an oft-overlooked but extremely sexy aspect of fucking: kissing.

Not just kissing, of course – I’m also thinking of snogging (or, for the non-Brits in the audience, making out) and everything that entails. I’m thinking of the transition from bumping your dry lips together to opening your mouth and sharing spit. I’m thinking of the wet warmth of a tongue against my lower lip. I’m thinking of the sounds a person makes when I bite down on theirs.

Kissing is hot because it just is, but also because it serves as the spark that turns the dry kindling of want into the roaring flame of need, giving you fuel to grab a fistful of someone’s hair and yank on it. A good snog is the perfect time to try growling at me for the first time, while one hand grasps the back of my neck like I’m a misbehaving kitten and the other tries desperately to unbutton my jeans. It’s also a great time to shove a hard, unrelenting knee into the gap between my thighs, and to hold it there, perfectly still, while I start trying to grind my fully-clothed cunt against it.

You can kiss softly, gently, reverently, whilst you grab and twist my nipples. You can move from laying butterfly-soft kisses on my lips to laying them on my chin, cheeks, neck and collarbone, all while you drag your fingernails across my flesh so hard that I can’t hold back a whimper of pain and want. You can kiss every inch of my body, as long as you come back to my mouth sometimes. And when you do, you can stick to those soft, restrained kisses, and you can keep pulling your head away every time I try to tilt and kiss you more deeply – even if I let out a frustrated whine. No – especially if I let out a frustrated whine.

I also love aggressive kisses – the ones that go from 0 to 100 in the time it takes for me to process that we’re kissing. I love when someone abruptly decides that they want me now and jams their mouth against mine. I love opening up my mouth and having their whole tongue plunge in, slick and hot and desperate, like they’re trying to lick my uvula. Kisses like these ones should hurt my jaw a little, leave my lips feeling bruised from the force with which they were pressed into my teeth, and leave me dizzy and lustdrunk and thirsty for more. These kisses are well-suited for quickies, because they say, “We don’t have much time, and we need to do this now,” but they are equally well-suited for a long, exhausting, sweaty fuck, wherein they say, “I want you so badly I can barely see straight, and I am going to have you.”

Other kisses I like include the one I get after swallowing somebody’s cum, which can say, “You taste like my dick and I love that,” “You did an excellent job and I’m proud of you,” and/or, “I’m not finished with you yet.” These kisses are best served while I’m still on my knees, with you leaning down from above, forcing me to crane my neck up to meet your mouth. Maybe your fist is in my hair, or maybe it’s wrapped around my neck, cutting off my air supply because my breathing is secondary to your need to taste my mouth again. This is also a perfect time to kiss me tenderly, and then to mess with my head by holding my jaw open and spitting straight onto my tongue, just because you can.

But, if we’re talking about tender kissing, I also like the slow, soft kind of kiss that sometimes happens after sex, or first thing in the morning, when I’m in bed with someone and my hair is a mess. This one is a slowdance of lips, interrupted by gazing at each other’s faces with a blend of fondness and awe – a kiss that says, “God, you’re beautiful,” in between us saying the same thing out loud. This is the kind of kiss you share as aftercare, as a way to say, “We’ve just done some fucked up shit to each other, but only because we really like each other.” Those kisses feel like the warm bath of sunlight on my face, and I love them as much as all the other kinds of kisses – if not, secretly, just a little more.


The pandemic and subsequent lockdown that’s going on right now means that I’ve lost a lot of work opportunities (because every other fucker at my agency is snagging jobs before I can). If you also want to give me a birthday present four months early, consider buying me a coffee or commissioning transcripts or captions from me!

Cum: The Devil Is In The Details

Selfie taken by Morgan where the top half of xir face is cut off and xir cleavage is covered in a lube which looks a lot like cum

Welcome to my new miniseries, The Devil Is In The Details, where I get unreasonably in-depth about certain aspects of sex or kink that fascinate me! This week, I’ll be talking about cum…


I have a complicated relationship with cum.

In theory, I love it. I fantasise about all the different ways I can interact with it – about being spitroasted and having cum squirt into my mouth and my cunt simultaneously; about being splattered with it in unrealistic quantities by one or more parties; about going for a walk straight after being creampied and feeling it ooze through the fabric of my pants and start to dribble down my leg. In all of these fantasies, I am enthusiastic about it, because in all of these fantasies, it isn’t cum-textured.

I might be alone in this, but I find there’s a particular squeakiness to cum on skin that gets my autistic hackles up somethin’ fierce. It’s akin to the creak of teeth against fabric – something I also can’t stand – and it turns my stomach every time I experience it. I love the sensation of being covered in or filled with something thick and wet and hot – but I can’t stand it on my skin for any longer than a few long, sexy moments. I can cope with it in my cunt, as long as I don’t have to touch my cunt, or have it touched by anyone else. I do, however, like the sensation of it dribbling out of my cunt, especially if it’s then caught up by fingers and fed to me (be they my own fingers or someone else’s).

The ideal place to put your cum, though, is my mouth. I love the taste of it – the way that some notes of it differ between each person while the bass line of human-tasting tanginess remains the same. (Forgive the weird music analogy – I have a lot of synaesthesia around tastes, smells and sounds.) I have no objections to the feel of the actual substance in my mouth, and I relish the moment that it hits my tongue, whether it be sucked out of someone and pulsing gently towards the back of my throat or shot hard into my mouth as a reward for someone’s handiwork – be it me, the person who’s coming, or a third party. I love letting it drip off my lower lip as I stare, dumbstruck by lust, at the person who put it there, but I also love dutifully swallowing all of it, including those last few drops that can be squeezed out at the end of an orgasm.

The other thing I love about cum is this: it’s tangible, physical proof of a job well done. It’s hard to argue that I’m not sexy or that I’m bad at sex when somebody has just ejaculated inside or all over me. Sometimes, in role play, I act as though I dislike or am indifferent to my partner’s cum, and that it only exists as a necessary byproduct of my obedience when ordered to suck them off or lay still for them – but it’s definitely acting. I definitely want the cum. I’m therefore far more comfortable in the role of desperate slut, whose sexual greed knows no bounds and who can only think about getting their holes filled, getting to come and getting covered in and filled with the cum of another person (or other people, plural) – which, to be honest, is kind of the case for me a lot of the time anyway. If you catch me daydreaming, there’s a solid 60% chance that you’ve caught me thinking about the tingle at the back of my tongue that cum can sometimes give me, or the way a dick looks when it’s twitching and spraying cum everywhere, or any other thing related to cum and how much I love it.

Who knows; you might even have caught me having that one recurring fantasy where I jerk someone off in the shower and then lick their cum off the tiled wall.


The pandemic and subsequent semi-lockdown that’s going on right now means that I’ve lost a lot of work opportunities (because every other fucker at my agency is snagging jobs before I can). If you also want to give me a birthday present four months early, consider buying me a coffee or commissioning transcripts or captions from me!

Smut Saturdays #17: Four Hot Ways To Fuck In Summer

To depict the essence of having a fuck in summer: ice cubes on a black background with orange flames all over them, because I am a sucker for dramatic stock images.

I’m gonna be real with you: I am not a summer person.

I don’t like to be sweaty. The inevitable increase in visible insects freaks me out. I don’t want any of my confectionery to be melted and sticky. I get headaches very easily and I’m not good at staying hydrated. I would much rather it be autumn or winter, so I can wear oversized jumpers and huddle up under blankets. Personally, I’m not super excited to fuck in summer when I could just sit in front of a fan.

However, a lot of people seem to be extra horny in summer, so I thought I’d list some summer-specific ways to get it on, if you can bear to leave the freezer aisle of your local Tesco.

  1. At night

The sun goes in at night. You’re in bed, the fan still on, grateful for the few degrees’ difference in the temperature. It’s too hot to sleep with clothes on, so you and your partner lay naked, side by side, talking about your day. You realise that this is the closest you’ve been to their body in the past 12 hours, and you shuffle closer still. You reach out a hand to touch their thigh. Then, cautiously, you slide your hand further north, towards their cock, which you can already feel hardening under your fingertips. Soon, your hands are all over each other, and their thigh is wedged between your legs. Not long after that, the duvet is on the floor and you’re in doggy style (because it’s too hot for anybody to be on top of anybody else) and you’re building up an aggressive rhythm. Neither of you has turned the light on, so you’re blindfolded by the darkness of the bedroom, all your focus on the crescendo you’re both building to.

Later, the cum and sweat all over your thighs is highlighted by the fan, and you thank the heavens for evaporative cooling.

2. Coldly detached

You’ve had a long day. You’ve only been home twenty minutes, and your partner is across the room, doing nothing productive on their laptop. You watch the cute crease in their brow as they read something a little too sophisticated for the brain-melting summer heat and you’re overwhelmed by the desire to help them turn their brain off. You snap your fingers to get their attention.

“On your knees, here,” you order, pointing to the space in front of the sofa between your legs.

They all but throw their laptop down and scurry over, wide-eyed and eager to obey. They watch, transfixed, as you unzip your trousers and pull out your cock. You know you’ll taste like sweat, and you know they’ll secretly savour it. 

As they work on you, sucking and stroking and licking and occasionally gagging, you don’t so much as put a hand in their hair. You spend a little time looking at ice cube trays on Amazon, but you spend more time pretending to look at your phone, unable to actually take any information in, as your partner diligently licks your balls, their hand sliding up and down your shaft with only their own spit for lubrication. 

By the time you come, your phone has slipped out of your hand. You growl. Your hands are still nowhere near touching your partner, but you let your leg bump against them as you zip back up.

“Good job, pet.”

3. On your own

Sometimes it’s so hot that the thought of another person’s body heat within two metres of your personal bubble is disgusting. You lay in bed, directly in front of the fan, and plug your favourite vibrator into the wall. You press its thrumming head hard against your clit and grind against it, thinking of all the dirty things you want to hear somebody say when it’s finally cool enough to let their mouth within a few inches of your ear. “Come for me, you desperate slut. That’s it, it’s building, isn’t it? I can see how close you are, how your toes are curling… that’s right, little girl, come for me. Good.”

Your orgasm rips through you, and with your non-vibrator-wielding hand, you clutch the sheets so hard that they might rip, too. You realise you’ve been moaning loudly and the window is open, but you cannot summon the energy to care.

4. With ice

This one is self-explanatory, but I’ll leave you with the thought of an ice cube buried deep in your cunt, slowly melting, with water dripping out of you and mingling with your increasing wetness. Your partner is watching some sports thing on TV, but occasionally throws you a sly glance, especially when she notices you squirming. You know that soon, your soaked thong will be in your mouth as another ice cube – or something else – is slid inside you, to press against your G-spot and make you squirm again.


Every fourth Saturday (mental health and life events permitting, of course) I’ll be posting erotica here for your wanking enjoyment, based loosely on my own experiences or fantasies. Feel free to get in touch via Twitter if you have a theme to suggest, and remember to check out my Patreon page if you’d like early access to exceptional filth!