This year, Smutathon are fundraising for two amazing charities who support trans and non-binary folks. We’re working with Gendered Intelligence in the UK and Trans Lifeline in the US. With less than twelve hours until I hop on a train down to London to join other members of the committee for some in-person smut writing, I want to talk about how much this year’s charities mean to me personally. I want to talk about how I wish trans people didn’t have to be so fucking strong.
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This post was originally written for Smutathon 2020, where intrepid sex writers from around the world spent twelve hours writing filth to raise money for Endometriosis UK. I didn’t end up writing much smut but we did reach our filthy fundraising goal, which is awesome. This piece features anonymous (ish) university sex and seven fucks.
Right now, I have an itchy vagina. As I type this, my fingers smell of my cunt – and specifically of the crusty gook that was coating them after I’d reached down into my knickers to rub my vulva. I think there’s a correlation between how heavy my period is and how itchy my vagina is as it comes to a close, and while I can’t prove that, I can write (terrible, but it is 1am after all) poetry about my itchy vagina.
I love sucking dick – and love it with a passion that might make me feel like a bad feminist or queer if agency is not very feminist and if dicks could not be very queer. Some memorable blow jobs in the twelve months have involved my partner coming in my mouth, a circumstance that is often a delicious assertion of dominance.
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Reading a casual-fuck-partner’s old texts on a Smutathon wank break (less fun than a Smutathon fuck break, but more practical for a day of writing in the library) left me thinking about his dick. And my desire to one day sit on his dick, despite my vaginismus. But why is that particular sex act so intriguing: penis-in-vagina sex isn’t a big deal, right?