Sex Blog Roundup: Wet Dreams Are Made Of This

We promise, it's okay to wear white after Labor Day. And by "wear white" we mean "get covered in jizz." And by "after Labor Day" we mean "every day."

Summer is winding down, and we hope your holiday weekend holds more than its fair share of debauched action. While some of our intrepid crew here at Fleshbot will be taking off to the beach, others remain tethered to their desks, forced to look at naked people on the Internet. Madeline, ever industrious, is making the most of the situation by bringing you the hottest dreams from the sex blogosphere. Wet dreams, as it turns out, are made of lots of things. It's Labor Day weekend—the end of summer—but that doesn't mean you can't go back and visit once in a while.

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A Hot Fucking Dream

I had a dream last night. You were in my thoughts as I drifted off to sleep and you came back to me as I slipped deeper into slumber. We were together. I'm not sure of the place, but it was soft and dark. I felt your hard body next to mine and I smiled. My arousal was sudden when your lips touched mine. I was not expecting it. It took my breath away just as it did the first time you kissed me.

—Dirty Little Mind

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Dress Code

"If you're going to be teaching me about how you like your cock sucked," Kara recently said to me, grinning, kneeling, her mouth still puffy and wet from sliding on my dick as I hoarsely whispered instructions down to her, "then maybe I need a schoolgirl uniform."

—Urban Roguery

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Escape

her cool lips slide down my hot cock, and i know how i must feel in her mouth. i am grateful for his surrender, to give myself over to her expert care. her head bobs with purpose, i am groaning. her phone rings. it's time for her date. i take a long sigh and zip up, and drive her out to meet the lovely couple i am loaning her to tonight. she kisses the lady, and first casually, then a curiosity-driven deeper kiss, and a knowing smile at taste on her lips, and a more-knowing smile at how i am standing uncomfortably.

—At Longing's End

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Routine

"Please lay as still as you can," I told her, as i abandoned her backside for the bedside table. Pulling out the drawer, i retrieved the trusty - and hated - wooden brush. I developed an immediate kinship for this device, it being a long time since we last collaborated. He felt confident, secure, and solid in my hand. I brought him to her right buttocks, and stroked her snowy skin. My ears delighted at the familiar sound, rough abrading sighs of bristles sanding her cheeks. Over and over. Stroke. Brush. Burr and shine.

—The lustful quality of watching her erotic demise

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the best first date ever

"do you always wait for the guy to kiss you first?"

i thought it over. "yes," i told him, "i think i do." after i said it, it sounded a little bit selfish, to always put that work in someone else's hands. so i added, sheepishly, "i guess i tend to be a little bit passive."

"that's okay," he said, leaning in again, "i like that."

—persephone in love

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I am Ardor.

When she wakes, you climb on top of her, delicately and sweetly because you do not want to disrupt the dream. She touches your hips, cups your throbbing sex from way down underneath, and sighs as though she is in pain. She looks into your eyes as though she had blind for her whole life, hitherto.

—The Provocateur

*****

· Thumbnail star: Kazuki Asou, via Hot Babes Log (hbl.thumblogger.com)
· Previously: Sex Blog Roundup Archive