Where has April gone? I know it’s not quite over yet, but for me it has whirled past in a blur of non-sex-blogging deadlines and depression. Because it’s almost the end of the month, I have gathered together a few of my favourite pieces of April’s sex-positive shit by some awesome writers.
Before I took a week off from writing to concentrate on some non-sex-blogging deadlines, I wrote about my depression – specifically by exploring my mental health through a slightly-strained metaphor. Having submitted my projects and survived that thunderstorm, I realised that I haven’t yet said everything I want to yet. This post talks about my depression and suicidal ideation, but the tone is less dark: today I’m thinking about April showers, not thunderstorms.
My fingers have spent the last week itching to write again, and so even though my projects aren’t quite finished yet I’m indulging myself by writing a some smut. The weather over the weekend was glorious and I tried to spend as much time outside as possible. It was wonderful, but did make me wonder about what happens when it’s too hot to fuck.
To understand why this photo is sinful, you’d first need to know that the wine bottle is one I’ve been saving for more than four months. The last sex I had before Christmas was totally unexpected, and I had given up all hope of group-fucking with these particular two cute humans when they ended up in my bed. Sometimes, one needs a little threesome lubrication.
Photo courtesy of Master’s Eye
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He Gripped Her Hand and Centered Her