I’m back again, doing another Masturbation Monday round-up for the month of May. (Note to self: maybe don’t schedule a full house move and try to do a round-up all at the same time — oops!). It’s always difficult to narrow down my faves, but I managed it. Without further ado, here are my top picks of the week!
Hexennacht by Lascivious Lucy
Lucy always writes the best otherworldly smut. It’s magical and haunting and so fucking hot. I don’t like spooky things, but I’d be tempted to check out this old carousel, too!
There’s something especially eerie about amusement park graveyards. The ghosts of sugar, laughter, and joy haunt a place like that – and create a disjointed counterpoint to the decaying attractions and weed-choked grounds. Paint hung in faded strips from the funhouse walls. Eva moved the loose fence board and slipped inside. Keep reading.
A Different Kind of Party by Blue’s Submission
I wouldn’t call clothed dom/naked sub a kink of mine, but I love that vulnerability of being naked when John Brownstone is fully dressed. Blue’s story took me deeper into that feeling and experience, and now (when life permits), I think I’d love to attend a party like this.
I could hear hushed whispers behind me as I slid my wet cunt up and down the shaft of the vibrating fucking machine between my thighs. I looked into Sir’s eyes, but his rigid cock in my mouth prevented me from saying anything about the onlookers in the open doorway. Never in my life would I have imagined I would be here, exposed to the curious gaze of strangers and so greedy for my next orgasm that I didn’t care at all. Keep reading.
Making of a Masochist Part 1 by Mrs. K
Mrs. K’s story reminds me of the kinky fantasies I used to love reading back in the day, especially when I was new to submission. It hit all kinds of D/s fantasies for me — submission, pain, exhibitionism. By the end of it, I was squirming in my chair, and we’re only in part one!
As I’m walking down the steps of the college, my phone starts ringing. Juggling my books and bag, I search my pockets, following the vibrations to locate it. Looking at the screen, I see it’s Ian. He’s in America from Wales and we met at an off-campus pub. His thick accent making my knees melt as if they were made of butter. His well-built physique and head of thick golden curls didn’t hurt either. It’s the kind of hair you want to sink your hands into and hold tight as you ride their face. Yes, please. Keep reading.