Times are a changin’


If I’m being completely honest, my sex life is pretty much as perfect as anyone could hope for. In Master C, not only do I have a caring and attentive partner, who knows my body and my needs and attends to them regularly and fully, I also have a strict, but fair Master who allows me to be who I am and to do what I want with whom I want so long as I am willing to accept my actions have consequences. I get quality, quantity and variety. It’s a win-win that makes me a very happy slutty but satisfied submissive.

Of course, the one fly in the ointment has been that, for much of the past 12 months, I haven’t been able to enjoy the freedoms that Master C allows me to have.

Now, this isn’t exactly a hardship. I do miss spending time with “The Other Guy” and I also miss the thrill of my occasional random dalliances, but at the end of the day, other than novelty, they don’t give me anything that Master C doesn’t already lavish on me. If I want a cock in any of my holes, Master C’s cock will always be my first cock of choice and is absolutely my preferred cock. “The Other Guy” is also very acquainted with my body, and also elicits the most fabulous responses from me, but such encounters are occasional; at most 2-3 times a year. As for the randoms, well, that’s just fucking. They don’t know me, they don’t know what buttons to push to really turn me on, they are simply a form of “cock on demand” for when an urge that can’t wait until I get home (and the need to be soundly punished when I do) takes me.

No, all things aside, I don’t actually miss any of that.

There is, however, one person I do really miss, and that is “The Girl”. I’ve mentioned before that “The Girl” and I have had an intimate friendship stretching back over 30 years (we been friends for over 40 but the “intimate” is the key bit in that sentence), and she was the first person (other than myself) to bring me to orgasm. I always love the time we spend together, whether it be having sex or simply chatting over a glass or several of wine (although, more often than not, that often leads to sex too). I love exploring the soft curves of her body with my hands, lips and tongue. I love the taste of her cunt, I love the silly little noises and facial expressions she makes when she is aroused and when she comes and I love the things that does to me and how those make me feel.

I long to hold her and be held by her, to kiss her and be kissed by her, to feel her body pressed against mine. I yearn for the sensations of her fingers sliding and twisting inside my cunt, teasing me, tormenting me. I hunger for the taste of her cunt and the feeling of her tongue on mine; so different from Master C’s, but still able to take me to the edge of the precipice and hold me there before finally igniting my climax.

Mentioning Master C, I also miss the “punishment fucks” that sex with “The Girl” will earn me. The fucks where he shows me “what I was missing” and what “she can’t give me”. Those fucks are always wonderfully intense, especially since the retelling of what “The Girl” and I got up to allows me to relive those things before Master C fucks me.

So, where does this all tie in with the prompt? Well, it’s quite simple. Thanks to the changes in Covid related restrictions, in a few hours time, “The Girl” and I will be meeting up, in person, for the first time since September. This is “the change” I have been wishing for the most; not just for the sex, but for the chance to be with and catch-up with my oldest and dearest friend for the first time in what seems like forever. I’m imagining so many things; far more than can fit into a single afternoon encounter, and I’m hoping this means we will be able to spend many more afternoons together again. After all, we have a lot of catching up to do…

Erotic Journal Challenge Blogging Meme May Has Cum - World Masturbation Month

Challenging misconceptions


For me, the biggest misconception around D/s and/or kink is probably a result of the 50 Shades thing. It’s the perception that it’s all about the Dominant and their needs and wants, and their ability to inflict pain on the submissive while forcing them to perform whatever sexual act the Dominant desires.

This is, of course, utter bullshit.

If it’s one thing I’ve said to the point of being blue in the face (and crimson in the arse cheeks) it’s that a D/s relationship is, first and foremost, a relationship. For it to work, there has to be trust and respect on both sides. I get how, if the only experience of D/s you have is through porn or from “literature” such as 50 Shades, you might come to the above conclusion that it’s all pain and punishment and forced sex (and, indeed, if that’s a particular couple’s dynamic, then great), but beneath it there has to be trust and respect, there has to be an understanding on the part of both the Dominant and the submissive, of the other’s needs, wants, desires, tastes and, possibly most important, their limits.

I’ve written before about how pain and discipline ground and centre me. I have written about the fact that the discipline that Master C issues allows me to grow and be a better person. I’ve written about how a thorough thrashing and (almost brutal) fucking can help restore me. All of these things are true.  Pain is kind of my thing. I use it both emotionally and sexually. Master C knows this and He uses this knowledge appropriately within our dynamic, not because He particularly wants to hurt me, but because He knows that I am open to it, enjoy it and, in many respects, need it.

There is also the misconception that it is only the Dominant’s sexual needs that are getting met. Again, this is nonsense.

Within our dynamic, Master C regularly “requires” me to suck His cock. Within our dynamic, He often decides that it is my arse that should be fucked. Within the “role-play” element of our dynamic there (if that is all someone observed), Master C orders me to suck Him, or to commands me to take it in the arse from Him but the simple truth is, I do it, and I allow Him to do it to me because I love sucking cock (any cock, but especially Master C’s) and I love getting fucked in the arse as much as I love getting fucked in the cunt, and I love getting fucked in the throat. It may be rough, it may to an outside observer look forced on occasion, but it is always consensual and always mutually satisfying. Even when Master C is denying me the release of orgasm, I know that, at some point, He will relent. Also, if I’m being completely honest, sometimes the masochist in me actually really enjoys the frustration of being left high and dry just on the brink; it’s simply another kind of satisfaction.

The final thing for me is the perception that the Dominant must always humiliate the submissive. Now, for me, humiliation is a big thing, it is something I get off on in a big way. Humiliation can take many forms. It can be the derogatory names Master C calls me when He fucks me or thrashes me. It can be when He decides to shower His cum over my face. It can be being made to stand quietly in the corner while I have to watch Master C pleasure or be pleasured by another woman. It can be the humiliation of being out in public with His cum dried on my skin.

From the outside, this may look like it’s entirely a one way thing; that Master C is getting all the benefits but the simple truth is that it is ticking so many of my boxes and Master C is only really inflicting these humiliations on me because He knows how much I enjoy them and get turned on by them and, particularly in the aftermath of public humiliations, the sex that follows will be next level fucking.

The misconception in all this is that, as the submissive, I am the one that is having things done to me and that I am an unwilling participant and simply have to endure what is being done. The reality is that I am fully onboard and absolutely ready, willing and able and I love the things Master C does to and with me.

Erotic Journal Challenge Blogging Meme

Fuck cards and flowers, just fuck me


Valentine’s Day started, like a lot of other days, with a fuck. Let’s be honest, it’s a great way to get the heart pounding, and help you start the day. If an orgasm can’t make you face the day with a smile on your face, I’m not sure if anything can.

It was, as wake-up sex often is, a fairly perfunctory, but highly satisfactory fuck. Having established that I was awake, Master C proceeded to skilfully and efficiently get me in the mood. Lips and tongue on my nipples, fingers on my clit and between my labia quickly got me to the point where I needed Him inside me.  “Please Sir, can your slut have your cock inside her now?” I asked, “I would really like Sir to fuck me.”

Fuck me, Master C did. Starting slowly, but firmly, he sank His cock sank me. The pace quickly picked up, the force of His thrusts quickly intensified. I came, my fingers digging into His buttocks. Seconds later, with a final thrust, Master C came too, flooding my cunt with His lovely thick, warm wetness.

And that was that.

Evening found me in the kitchen, preparing a risotto from the remains of the previous evening’s roast chicken. While it was simmering, I decided that I probably had time to give Master C  a blow-job, so, stopping only to set a timer on the hob, that’s what I did.

It wasn’t one of my prolonged worshipings of His cock, but it had the desired effect.  I started slow but, in much the same way as when Master C fucked me that morning, the urgency took over and my head was bobbing frantically up and down in His lap as His fingers twisted in my hair, His hips thrusting His cock deeper into my mouth, driving the head into my throat as my fingers and lips worked on His shaft.

The was an intense urgency to how I sucked Him. Usually, I luxuriate in giving Master C a blow-job, as much for my own enjoyment of performing the act as for the pleasure it gives Him. Last night, however, much as yesterday morning, something more primal took over. I wanted His cum, I wanted it like a starving person wants food, or a thirsty person wants a drink. I wanted, no, I needed Master C’s cum in my mouth and, I got exactly what I wanted/needed.

That particular need satisfied, I returned to the kitchen to finish the preparation of our meal.

A little later, Master C announced that He wanted dessert, and that His dessert of choice was me. Unsurprisingly, I was only too happy to oblige; I never pass up the opportunity to feel Master C’s tongue on my clit.

Unlike our morning fuck, and the pre-teatime blow-job, there was an almost total absence of urgency. Master C wanted to luxuriate in feasting on me and I was not going to complain (not that I would). His tongue slowly but surely took me closer and closer to the edge of orgasm and then held me there for what seemed like an eternity,  Fingers twisting inside my cunt, His tongue applying firm but gentle pressure on my clit, He teased, tormented and tortured me, holding me on the precipice as fire screamed through my nerves demanding release.

I don’t know how Master C does it, but He knows my responses so well. He knows just the right amount of pleasure to push me almost, but not quite over the edge and then keep me there. Sometimes holding me on the very brink, other times, taking me there then drawing back, only to take me there again.  Last night was a combination of both.

Time and time again Master C expertly took me right to the edge, holding me over the rim, only to pull me away again. Each time, I was certain this would be the time that He would take mercy, and each time I would know the frustration of being denied again.

I was sobbing for release; begging to be allowed to come, but Master C had His own agenda; He would let me come only when He had had his fill of of my cunt.

When the end finally came, the release of energy and tension was beyond description. Volcanic would be one word for it, albeit an inadequate word. My body shook so hard I’m almost certain the British Seismology Society probably registered, my moan probably deafened the neighbours half way down the street.

My body was still shaking when Master C propped me up  against the sofa, parted my legs and slid His cock into me. I was entirely passive as He fucked me from behind, starting with my cunt, then moving to my arse. His strokes were strong and firm and my body responded. Even if I was incapable of conscious movement, my unconscious  self knew what to do; the correct synapses fired and I came again.

My cunt throbbed, partially from the intensity of the orgasm His tongue had inflicted on me and partially from the pounding His cock had given it. My arse now felt deliciously stretched and full as he drove into it. The top half of my body lay on the cushions of the sofa as he took me, my nipples being tormented by the nap of the material under them.

Master C came, with a grunt, unloading Himself in my back passage. My body still refused to move. I wasn’t in what you would call an elegant or ladylike position, but elegance or being ladylike has never been my thing. I’d had my cunt thoroughly eaten, and my arse masterfully fucked, I’d had one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had, and a few smaller ones, and I was happy beyond the ability of words to express.

Later still, in bed, I snuggled into Him, enjoying the warmth of His firm body beside mine, and drifted contentedly off to sleep.

So, yeah, some people like cards and flowers and chocolates, some people like romantic dinners for two; me, well I really love being fucked and that’s exactly what I got for Valentine’s Day. I wouldn’t want to spend it any other way.

Erotic Journal Challenge Blogging Meme

Celebration


If there is one thing that 2020 taught me, it’s that we all need to celebrate things more often. Achievements come in all sizes, from running a marathon to, sometimes, just managing to get out of bed and get dressed. In the year that was 2020 and is now 2021, those “small” accomplishments can be the greatest achievements of all.

For me, in my own particular way, I consider my submission to Master C to be a celebration. It is a celebration of the fact that He can take so much pleasure from my body and give so much pleasure with His and, of course, vice versa.

Each interaction, each slap of His hand, each lash of His belt, each lick of His tongue and each thrust of His cock is a celebration of our relationship and the simple fact that we are alive and sharing our lives with each other.

When Master C brings me to orgasm, it is a celebration of the skill with which He plays my body; that deep, intimate knowledge of what I need, how to push me to the edge, hold me there before allowing me the exquisite agony of release from the pent up forces of desire He has caused to grow and build inside me. He is the virtuoso musician and my body is his instrument, the master artist, and my body is His canvas.

When Master C comes it is a celebration of the pleasure my body has given Him. When He comes in my mouth he is paying tribute to the skill with which I have sucked His cock. When he comes in my cunt, or in my arse, it is a celebration of the fact that I have provided Him with an outlet for the release that He needed. When He comes, shooting His thick load over my face or my boobs, I get the pleasure of witnessing that explosive moment of celebration as He marks me as His.

And then, when I am in His arms, either post-coitally or simple snuggled on the sofa in front of the TV in the evening, it is a very simple but effective celebration of the fact that we are together, a couple, a team; not just a Dominant and His submissive, but two halves of a whole.

Life is fleeting, so let us all resolve to celebrate it more.

Erotic Journal Challenge Blogging Meme

Almost limitless


When it comes to sex, I’ve always had a fairly “anything goes” attitude. I’ve always been willing to try new things, I like to experiment, I like to have my boundaries pushed.

There is a difference, I think, between boundaries and limits. My boundaries have definitely expanded since I started on my sexual journey. My natural curiosity led me to try (and enjoy as it turned out) things like anal, sex with other women, group-sex, bondage, swinging, etc. I’ve had casual sex with both men and women, I get off on risky situations such as sex in fairly public place where there is a risk (to varying degrees) of getting caught. In my student days, I once even caught a night bus back from a club with a guy’s cum (albeit dried by the time the bus finally showed up) all over my face.

There is a thrill of trying new things, of experiencing new sensations in different circumstances. Far from being limits, my boundaries are simply things I haven’t tried. Some I have actively wanted to do, some I was less keen on trying, and some, up until I found myself doing them, I hadn’t even considered.

There are, however, a few things that I won’t do.

Anything involving scat/urine/blood is out.  While I have no problem (massive understatement) with anal, rimming is something I won’t do. Similarly, if a cock has been in my arse, even though a condom has been worn, it isn’t going anywhere else until it has had a bloody good wash.

One final thing: needles.  I have a pathological fear of them. I even have to get knocked out when I go to the dentist. So, they are an absolute no-no.

I don’t really have many limits, and those that I have are definitely hard, and, have remained constant from the very start.

Apart from those, as I said at the start, anything goes.

Food For Thought - #F4Thought Erotic Journal Challenge Blogging Meme 

My favourite sex toy


Like many women, I love my toys. I have my ben-wa balls and my rampant rabbit, I have my discrete little vibrator that looks like a lipstick, I have my doxy that can take me from naught to screaming the roof off in a matter of seconds, and I have a lovely double ended dildo that not only fills my arse and cunt simultaneously, but has a little vibrating bit that stimulates my clit too. I have others, but those listed above are some of my favourites. My absolute favourite however, is thick, a little over 7″ long, and comes attached to a living, breathing, hard bodied, hairy man. I am, of course, talking about Master C’s cock.

Now, it should be abundantly clear to anyone who is even the most casual reader of this humble journal that I am submissive. I love when Master C takes control and dominates me. In fact, it goes much deeper than that, I NEED Master C to dominate me. I admit, however, there are also times when I very much need to be the one that is in charge. It is a side of me that that I don’t express very often, but Master C loves that, on occasion, I do.

It is not unknown for me to be waiting for Master C to come home from work, randy as hell, knickers soaked from anticipation, ready to jump on Him the moment He gets in. Usually, I would wait patiently, on my knees, for His return but in these situations I may simply drag Him into the bedroom, or push Him down on the sofa; sometimes I may even just have Him on the stairs in the hall.

Almost always, I will be on top. I’ll undo His trousers and pull them down, quickly followed by His boxers. Straddling Him, I’ll hitch my skirt up, reach back and grab His cock, teasing myself with the tip for several delicious moments or longer, before lowering myself on to it; impaling myself, inch by delicious inch on His length and feeling Master C stretch and fill me, as lower myself down.

Depending on what I’m wearing, I’ll allow my blouse to be unbuttoned, or my top to be pulled over my head, and my bra unclasped to allow Master C access to my boobs. I am, after all, a sucker for nipple stimulation.

Sometimes I will wake up in need of a fuck. Most often, wake-up sex is initiated by Master C, but sometimes it’s me. I’ll stroke His cock until He’s hard before climbing aboard and riding His cock with abandon.

Often, I’ll fuck Master C until He erupts inside me; flooding my cunt with His rich, hot sticky cum. At other times I’ll break off and move up, lowering my cunt to His mouth and have Him lick me to a shuddering climax or two before rolling over and have Him take me hard and fast. Sometimes, if I’ve satisfied myself on His cock, I’ll finish up by taking Him in my mouth; savouring the taste of my juices on his shaft, until Master C comes, our individual tastes mixing in my mouth.

I love the feeling of control. I love being in command of my own pleasure. I love occasionally being able to “use” Master C in a way that gives me sensations all over my body in a way that no simple piece of plastic, vibrating or otherwise can provide. I also love that Master C allows me to “use Him” in this way.

Most of all though, I just love fucking and being fucked by Master C.

Wicked Wednesday ~ #WickedWed #WickedWednesday The Penis Project Blogging Meme Badge Erotic Journal Challenge Blogging Meme

A question of sexuality


Here is how the ever helpful Urban Dictionary defines bisexual:

bisexual /bʌɪˈsɛksjʊəl,-ʃʊəl/

A person capable of having physical, romantic, and sexual attraction attractions towards both sexes.

Now, aside from the small matter of the “both sexes” part of that definition, which is perhaps a debate for another day, since I admit to the fact that I am not only attracted to both men and women, but that I have also had sex with both men and women then I am, quite clearly, bisexual; right?

Well, yes and no…

What?

Well, OK, fair enough, in a strict dictionary sense of the word, I am a bisexual woman. The thing is, while I freely use the term as a convenient shorthand to describe my sexuality, that’s not really how I define myself.

It is generally accepted that an individual human’s sexual preference lies somewhere on a spectrum between 100% heterosexual and 100% homosexual.  Me, personally, I would put myself somewhere around 75% on the heterosexual side.

I’m going to be perfectly honest here and say I love cock; I have done since I sucked my first one at 14 and discarded my virginity at 15.  I love the way it feels in my cunt, I love the way it feels in my arse, I love to suck them and there’s nothing I love more than being taken thoroughly by a man; rough, hard, slow, tender, it depends on the mood and it’s all good.

But, at the same time, I am, and pretty much always have been, attracted to my own sex.  I love our soft curves and sexy bulges, I love boobs as much as any man does, I love burying my face between another woman’s thighs, tasting her juices as I feast on her cunt. For the record, the first person, apart from myself that is, to make me come, was another girl and, despite being blissfully happy in my relationship with Master C, I still have a regular “girlfriend” that I have sex with.

I should point out that, not only does Master C approve of this, He actively encourages it, and insists that I give Him a blow-by-blow (or should that be lick-by-lick) account of my extra-curricular activities with “The Girl”.

So yes, I enjoy fucking and being fucked by women; so, by that dictionary definition above, I am bisexual.

Truth be told, however, if you put a gun to my head and forced me to choose one over the other, and told me I could never have the other one again; in that scenario there would be no hesitation. As much as I enjoy cunt, I could not live without cock.  For me, cock is the cake, cunt is the icing; together they compliment each other, individually, icing alone is never going to be as satisfying as cake.

So where does that leave us in trying to “define” my sexuality?  Am I bisexual, or am I a straight woman who will sometimes forgo the meat and enjoy the vegetarian option instead?

I don’t like labels. Labels are used by narrow-minded people to try and stuff us into boxes that fit their way of thinking. And that’s fine, except it’s their definition and while it defines me to them, it doesn’t define me to myself.

Personally, the only way of describing myself that I am truly comfortable with is as a sexual human being.  I love sex, the gender of the person I’m having sex with doesn’t actually matter so long as I am having sex with the person my mood decides I want to be having sex with.

Another description is slut, but that pretty much goes without saying.

Erotic Journal Challenge Blogging Meme