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For a limited time I am offering personalized erotic stories. Please give me a topic, subject or scenario you would like me to write about and I will give you a 600-1000 word story about it. You can be as specific as you like, no topic is taboo.

For an additional fee I will send you audio of me reading your story. Alternately you can have your story read by a female reader.

Stories take about two weeks to write and three weeks if you want audio recordings.

Personalized Erotic Story: $25-$50
Audio Version: Story cost + $50
Female Audio Version: Story cost + $100

Note: This story is written to your specifications, but you retain no copyright to the story and I may publish or sell the right to publish said story.

Email me at mrjackstratton at gmail.com for more information.

When did it all start? I suppose it wasn’t so long ago. Mad Men started and I watched it from the get go. I had a wedding to go to, alone, and I was out shopping for something to wear. I remember that specifically being the point where it started.

I had always liked wearing a suit, but didn’t much wear them unless someone died or got married. A few interviews and big meetings at work, but that was it.

I was shopping and I picked out a vivid purplish pink paisley tie. I’d never owned a tie like that before. I paired it with a pinstriped DKNY shirt. A little expensive for me, but I tended to be a little blue collar.

I went to the wedding in my suit and tie. Decided at the last minute to add a vest. I stood a little straighter. I felt a little more in control. Confidence and strength through fashion? I liked it. That week I bought four more ties.

A few years later and I have around fifty of them. A closet full of dress shirts. Cufflinks, sweater vests, a new suit, collar stays and lovely colognes and so on.

I’ve been through this all before. Yes, Jack likes ties.

Enter my friends Sara and Zac and their 500 Hammers Project, which is a endeavor to “designed to highlight the ways in which small, useful objects shape – and are shaped by – our lives.”
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I have a huge list of RSS feeds that get updated on my phone every morning for reading on the forty-five minute ride I make every day. I’ve noticed a certain eagerness lately for posts from a few webpages and I thought I’d share them with my lovely readers.

If you have any other erotica or sex blogs that you think fit my aesthetic, please share them with me.

Daisy Danger

Oh Miss Danger. Her stories are hot and dirty and sometimes more than a bit sad. They are scratched photos of scenes that are extraordinarily intense. I can’t recommend her enough.

She also tends to hit on a lot of my personal kinks.

I Hear the Back Door Open

Quickies in New York

Sometimes I read things that just piss me off because I wish I wrote them. Guy writes really well and paints vivid scenes that are often far too close to my own fantasies and experiences. From what I hear around town we have similar tastes.

She Always Called Me Sir

SugarButch

It’s really not fair at all. Sinclair is this brilliant activist and gender theorist, he writes so much awesome and intellectual stuff. Why is it that he can also write totally hot smut too? It’s supposed to be one or the other and frankly he’s making me look bad.

Sinclair is really amazing, go read his stuff. The latest sexy post is honest and vulnerable and intimate.

Sweat Summer

Heartbreak Nympho

I recently met Wilhelmina Wang and that prompted me to reread her stuff. Damn there is some hot stories on that site. I like the switchiness of it. I like the way she words things. Also, she is gorgeous.

Subspace

Stuffies

Her style may be a bit more straight forward, but Molly Ren gets the point across. I may be bias because she has written about me. I like to read the perspective of fetishists, especially fetishes that I don’t fully understand. I also like when fetishists are open to a variety of kinks.

She wrote about when we peed on a boy together.

Piss Play

Longing’s End

Mina and Sylvanus write about various parts of their sex lives. I’m a bit partial to Mina’s stories and pictures, especially all the Daddy girl play. Honestly that part is bitter sweet because it makes me think about things I no longer have and miss a lot.

Still, good stuff. Honest and pretty words with hot photos.

Ass Training: The Reward

There are many more, but these are the ones I listed on the train this morning, so this is what you get.

Also, since we are talking about sexy sex blogs, you should nominate me for the Sexiest Bloggers of 2010 list. Nominations for Sexiest Bloggers of 2010. Nominations close on July 31.

The dungeon. It’s cliché, I know. This kind of place was never part of my kink and really it still isn’t. The aesthetic is just all wrong. The leather and the stone and the seriousness of it all always seemed silly to me. I could never have imagened, let’s say four years ago, that this was a place I’d like to frequent. Then again, I do a lot of things now that I never would have imagined doing a few years ago.

Truth be told the way the place looked is important, certainly, but not vital to the games I wanted to play. I think of it like the library I go to, the one near my office. Twelve blocks away there is the most beautiful library in the city, possibly the country; the Main Branch of The New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street. It is huge, a marble monument to knowledge. It is atmospheric, with history and vast ceilings painted with murals. It’s epic, but you can’t borrow books from it unless you have special permission.

A block away from my office there is a very small, very dingy library. It is painted institution green and mostly has large print best sellers, but they will order any book I want from any library in the city and they have all of the things I need. It is easy to get to, it is easy to use. It is handy, like the dungeon.

The dungeon is a place where you can play. Where you can scream as loud as you want and hit as hard as your partner can take and you don’t have to worry about neighbors hearing or roommates coming home. You can just play.
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I can’t stop thinking. Over and over I am telling myself to let go. I’m telling myself to submit, but I really have no idea what that means in this context. I tell myself to relax while every fiber of my being tightens and closes up. Some instinct in me is forcing me to protect my center.

I’m tied to a chair, my wrists bound behind me with thin hemp rope and she is hovering above me; interrogator, torturer, top, woman, beauty. Those eyes are unwavering. I wouldn’t say they are cold, but they are certainly unnervingly calm and predatory. Those are the eyes that made me want to do this. Those eyes are studying me, figuring me out. Figuring out how to take me apart.

Her nails rake my chest, then a hand in my hair pulling my head back, then a solid punch to my chest. My jaw clenches and I ready myself for this. I can take anything she can give me. I am a rock and I am unbreakable. She is this immense dangerous force, this powerful, intelligent woman, but I can take anything. I want to take it from her. I want to show her how tough I am.
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Title image by julio.garciah. CC BY-NC 2.0

We saw movies. That’s what we did. We saw movies and went to museums.

I met Elise when she briefly worked in my office. She was one of those girls who grew up rich, but Upper West Side rich, not Upper East Side rich. The difference was super-preppy private schools versus super-intellectual immersive savant schools. She went to the latter and left with a rich inner life and a love of art and music and books that most people had never heard of. That, and the inability to really connect with most anyone.

There were the phobias; elevators, undercooked meat, docks, public speaking, crowded spaces, dark alleys, Antarctica, gum. Her worst fear was that she would swallow a piece of chewing gum. She told me she thought about it constantly, though it didn’t stop her from constantly chewing the most sugary, garish pink stuff she could find.

Then there was the OCD and the ADD and the cocktail of pharmacology. She was not trapped within the rigors of counting things and washing hands, but there were little things, more than quirks but less than crippling. There were also the daddy issues because he was like God to her, and the mommy issues because her mother told her she was fat when she was 12. There was a lot going on in this girl’s head.
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Welcome to writingdirty.com! I’m Jack Stratton and these are my dirty stories. If you are new to this site a good place to start would be my list of stories. If you are interested in more erudite reading, my blog posts may be more your speed. If you would like some more hands on information you may wish to peruse my toy and book reviews.

A warning though: the stories on this site are sexually explicit and many involve graphic descriptions of sex, bondage, sadomasochism, dominance and submission, &c. If it is illegal for you to read such things and you still wish to, you should work the change the laws in your community.

Sometimes silly things can make you feel better. It hasn’t been a great birthday, to be honest. Still friends have made it better, a sweet girl made it better and all these people on the internet made it better. Because really, how can you not feel like an awesome rockstar when someone posts this:

Thanks to MistressLilyana and SensualSadist

I also posted this on my Buzz feed, but I liked it so much I am reposting it here.Today is my birthday. I have found I usually write things for other people. I write to seduce readers or to talk about a specific event involving someone or to explore some idea someone has inspired. Sure, I am always writing with my gaze, with my desires in the forefront, but I don’t often trust myself to write my actual fantasies. I have to to filter things through other characters. I also write scenarios and try to have at least some basis in the truth. (Alice in Wonderland smut aside.) I write as a way to communicate with readers, be they specific people or in general.

Well as a birthday exercise here is something just for me. Here is pure Jack fantasy.

Photo by jfravel/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Academia

Alright, so I am an English professor at a small, wealthy, prestigious, but relatively off the radar private college in Connecticut. I also coach the women’s field hockey team.
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In exploring BDSM in a variety of ways I found my base power position (top) relatively quickly. I like to be the one doing things, hitting, fucking, tying, commanding, humiliating, etc. The complexities of topping versus service topping and other mixed dynamics certainly came up later, but have never really concerned me. I feel like I am naturally toppy, especially in many of the relationships I have been in so far, but that’s not all I am. I contain multitudes and stuff, you know the deal.
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Title image by Face It. CC BY-NC 2.0

The thing was, she was young. Very young. Certainly legal, but still, I really should have been ashamed of myself. I was a thirty-two year old man! It started out so simply though. She sent me a picture because I wrote something silly like, if a picture is worth a thousand words than a thousand words must be worth a picture.
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