Getting to the bottom of things

Yes, this is a post about anal sex. Now, I think it’s fair to say that women generally fall into one of three camps when it comes to anal sex:

• Those that have never tried it.
• Those who have tried it and don’t like it.
• Those who have tried it and enjoy it.

I am thoroughly in the third group. The reason for this being that I’m fortunate to have a partner who knows how to do it right. Having said that, It may come as a bit of a surprise to you, especially given how much I enjoy it and how much of a mainstay of my submissiveness it has become, that I actually did not expect to enjoy anal sex. I was curious about it, and while my girlfriends and I were all agreed on how much we enjoyed fucking, sucking guys cocks and getting out cunts thoroughly licked, when it came to anal, the feedback from those that had tried it ranged from the damning it with faint praise with comments like “well, it wasn’t too bad, and at least he liked it” to the outright “there’s no fucking way I’m doing that again”. None of my friends, it seemed had a particularly positive experience with it.

Porn, didn’t really help. In the porn I watched, it seemed that girls’ arses were always ready to be fucked; generally, I realise now although it didn’t occur to me then, because they have been pre-lubed. And that, you see, is where I think the crux of the problems that my girl friends who didn’t like it lay. Unlike our cunts, our arses are not self-lubricating; the whole “Oops, sorry, wrong hole” thing doesn’t actually work. A man can no more stick their cock into an unlubricated arse, than they can an unlubricated cunt. Now, whereas, with some foreplay and attention, a cunt will get wet, no amount of foreplay will make an arsehole naturally wet enough to take a cock. Sadly, a lot of young people get their “sex education” from porn and it gives them completely inaccurate expectations of how bodies actually work.

Now, I think I’ve alluded to the fact that I’m willing to give most things a try, and, the issues with porn that I’ve described above notwithstanding, from the depictions I had seen of it, there was something delightfully degrading and downright filthy about it that appealed at some very basic level to me. I wasn’t even aware that I had a submissive nature at this stage, let alone h began to explore it; I’m not even sure I knew what “being submissive” even was, but with hindsight it was quite clear that it was there all along. Even back then in my earliest days, I liked the feeling of being “used” by the guy who was fucking me, I loved the experience of being “taken”, and the more roughly I was “taken”, the more I enjoyed it.

And so it happened that, after quite a lot to drink at a party, whilst being fucked senseless and having already been eaten to numerous orgasms, I decided to let my curiosity get the better of me. I wasn’t a stranger to having the guy in question’s finger (or occasionally, fingers) up me when he was fucking me or eating me out and so, with generous quantities of lube being applied, he slowly got me relaxed and opened up with open, then two, and finally three fingers before replacing them with his cock.

Yes, it was a slightly strange sensation at first; it also hurt, despite the lube, but it actually felt pretty good. When he started working his cock in and out, it felt just as deliciously dirty as I thought it would, the discomfort only heightened my enjoyment.  All the time he kept saying things like “I’m fucking your arse,” and “Your arse feels so tight,” and calling me things like “Filthy Slut!” and “Dirty Bitch!” And in that moment, I was exactly those things. I was a filthy slut, I was a dirty Bitch, I was a bad girl who was getting her arse fucked, and I loved it. When he increased the pace and his balls started slapping against my cunt lips, I loved it even more.

Looking back, I think that was my first encounter with “subspace”. As he pounded my arse with long, hard, deep strokes, and as he told me over and over what a bad girl, what a dirty girl I was, I lost myself in a way that I had never really experienced before. When, at the end, he pulled out, stripped off the condom and shot his load over my back and across my arse cheeks, I really did feel like I was the “filthy slut” that he had been calling me as his cock filled my arse and he fucked me with an intensity that I had rarely experienced before.

So, yes, it’s fairly safe to say that he did enjoy it, unlike my friends, so did I, and it was definitely something that I intended to try again.

And here’s the thing, I believe that, if done properly, anal sex should only hurt as the much as the recipient wants it to. The level of pain and discomfort is directly proportional to the amount of lubrication applied.

As I’ve subsequently discovered, I actually like it to hurt quite a bit, and through practice and experience, I know just how much lubrication Master C or “The Other Guy” have to use to get the desired level of pleasure and pain that a good arse-fucking should deliver. That’s not to say that sometimes whichever one of them is fucking my arse won’t deliberately use less than that “optimum” amount, but that’s fine too on occasions and, sometimes I want it to hurt more than others.

So, if your partner tis one of those women who tends to shy away from anal, you may want to try and find out what her reasons are; it maybe that her only previous experience was with someone who watched too much porn and thought he could force his way in with just a little bit of spit. Anal sex can be a highly enjoyable experience for both partners, but men really have the responsibility to make it so for the person whose arse they want to stick their cock up.

Facial

I love cum. I’ve written about it before. It doesn’t matter to me where the guy (or guys) I’m with comes; I love it in my cunt. I love it in my mouth. I love it on my skin. I am, quite simply, a filthy little, cum-loving slut. I simply cannot get too much of it.

I love the warm, sticky sensation of a thick load of cum on my skin; I love it on my arse, I love it on my boobs, and yes, I love it on my face.

A lot of people seem to object to the facial cumshot in porn; however, nothing, for me, demonstrates Master C’s mastery over me than when He paints my face with a full load of His hot, thick, sticky cum.

Why?

Because it’s degrading, because it shows a lack of respect for me, because it’s so deliciously filthy. It screams of the utter contempt that the guy I’m with has for me, it tells me that I’m a filthy, depraved slut, it tells me that I am not worthy to be rewarded with their load inside me and that, instead, I should wear it as a badge of shame, a visual reminder to any who see it of my depraved sluttiness.

Humiliating? Yes! But that is the whole point. With Master C, It’s His way of marking me, claiming me, demonstrating His ownership of me. Yes, it is utterly degrading and contemptuous, and that is precisely why I love it.

Within our poly circle, Master C will ritually paint my face as a way of saying, “This is my slut. You may fuck her, you may use her, but she is mine.”

With the other couples watching, it is humiliating and exhilarating at the same time. The humiliation of being watched as I am marked in this way; the exhilaration of knowing Master C owns me. He may let the other men in the circle fuck me and use me. He may let those men put their own marks on my skin, but only Master C owns me, and His cum on my face is a visual reminder of that.

If I am a good slut, I know later, when we are alone, Master C will reward me, filling either my mouth or my cunt with another thick load; but that first load, the thickest, the fullest is the one that makes me His. Each person that fucks me, will know that I am His.

Wearing Master C’s cum on my face is a badge of my submission, it is a badge proclaiming that I am a filthy little slut, and that I am His filthy little slut. It is a badge I wear with pride; for I am immensely proud to be Master C’s slut.

 

Holiday encounters

I’be never been very good at monogamy and, it probably’s fair to say that before I met Master C, and apart from the couple “regular” relationships I had before Him, casual sex was pretty much my thing. I met guys online, I met guys in pubs, I met guys on holiday; more than half of my sexual encounters were “once onlies”. To be fair, even now, a lot of the guys I fuck still fall into this category; the only difference being that now I have to subject myself to the stern, but fair, discipline of Master C whenever I choose to indulge my insatiable sluttiness.

I mentioned recently that Master C and I had been on holiday in Greece. I have, of course, been to Greece many times. The particular event I want to share with you took place far too many years ago, when I was 17.

I’d recently finished school, when a group of us went on holiday to Faliraki on the Greek island of Rhodes. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of lying in the sun, and, between the six of us in our group, quite a lot of shagging; although I think “The Girl” and I were the only members of our group that shagged each other, but that’s another story.

Having arrived at the resort around midday, checked in, spent the afternoon lounging by the pool and drinking cocktails from the pool bar, by the time evening came, we were ready to hit the clubs.

His name was Gavin, he was from Manchester and, as it turned out, was flying home the next day. He was cheery, cheeky, a pretty good kisser and, as I was to discover, pretty good with his tongue and a better than average fuck.

A walk , well, drunken stagger, along the beach, resulted in me giving him a blow-job under the stars as he sat on a sun-lounger and I knelt in the sand between his legs. He had a decently proportioned cock and enjoyed the attentions of my mouth. He came quickly, filling my mouth with cum. We swapped places and he ate me out to a succession of shuddering climaxes before we headed back to his apartment.

The apartment was empty and we headed straight to his room. We stripped off and I sucked him until his cock was as hard as my cunt was wet and we fucked, and fucked, and fucked.

We were still fucking when his friends began returning. He was balls-deep in my arse when they burst into the room. They were chanting and cheering him on as he fucked my arse and when he pulled out and came all up my back, their cheers were almost deafening.

It was about 3am when I got back to our apartment. “The Girl” staggered in about an hour later. We spent the next hour or so telling each other about our evenings. The high point of her evening being spit-roasted over a table in front of one of the beach bars.

We fucked each other, licking each other into a frenzy, both of us coming hard before finally falling asleep.

All in all it was a great start to what was to be an fantastic holiday.

Skelpt arse

I suspect I may have mentioned that I am a mischievous little slut, I don’t deny it. As such, Master C almost always has some reason for needing to punish me.

Sometimes He will use His hand, sometimes a rolled up newspaper, for more serious transgressions He will use the paddle and, for the very worst offences, He uses His belt.

The reason for my most recent punishment spanking: spending a very fun, sexy Saturday afternoon with “The Girl”.

As usual, on returning home, I was forced to describe my latest indiscretion in full and vivid detail. I described how we explored each other’s bodies with our lips, fingers and tongues. I told Him all about the toys we used on ourselves and each other. I described in intense minute detail every climax that “The Girl” inflicted on my oh so willing body.

Sessions such as this will usually earn me at least six of the best from Master C’s belt, but on this occasion, He was feeling lenient and deemed the blow-job I gave Him to be a suitable act of contrition, so the punishment was downgraded to a paddling.

The paddle is only marginally less painful than the belt but it inflicts itself over a considerably bigger area.

Suffice to say, I was, as usual, required to assume the position, bent over the desk, while Master C dished out my punishment with resounding thwacks against my poor bottom, having me count out each stroke of the paddle.

Have I learned my lesson? Probably not. And, being totally honest, even if I had, I’d still find countless other ways to misbehave that would require the application of Master C’s stern discipline.

Facial hair

I’ll be perfectly honest; much as I have a fondness for the hairy, rugged male, I can take or leave facial hair. If I had to choose, irrevocably, one or the other, I would choose to leave it.

I can live, quite happily, with a certain amount of stubble, even if it is a bit rough on the skin, but beards don’t really do it for me.

When I’m kissing a guy, I like to be able to get at his lips. In the same way that when I am sucking a guy off, I do appreciate a certain tidiness, the same goes, even more so, with facial hair.

I appreciate that, unless a guy shaves daily, the chances are that he’s never going to be completely smooth. Even Master C, who despite being bodily hairy, doesn’t have much in the way of facial follicles, is still quite prickly within a few hours of his last shave.  It’s just one of those things we women have to put up with.

But, and it is a huge BUT, one aspect of sex that I believe is definitely enhanced by a degree of roughness; I love the extra sensation a couple of days worth of growth gives my clit and my labia when a man goes down on me. That extra bristliness just gives it that extra fillip, that little extra edge, that touch more sensation that makes it all the more pleasurable for me.

Don’t get me wrong, when it comes to cunnilingus, so long as the practitioner is suitably adept at performing the task, I’ll take it anyway I can get it. In much the same way that I love it when another woman eats my cunt, I won’t let the fact that a guy is freshly shave put me off. If, on the other hand (or should that be lip?) he does happen to be sporting a few days’ growth, then HEAVEN…

So, beards, not really a big fan (sorry all my beardy followers), but stubble, hell yeah; just let me get out of my uncomfortably damp knickers and get your face between my thighs.

Déjà sex

Déjà vu is a strange experience at the best of times, but when you experience it during sex it can be particularly disconcerting.

In my post: The sexual spectrum, last week, I made reference to a recent holiday Master C and I took to Greece.  This particular episode occurred during that holiday.

So, image the scene; as the sun beats down, Master C and I take shelter from the afternoon heat in an olive grove. One thing leads to another as the temperature and the seclusion, not to mention the beers that we washed down our picnic with, take effect and our activities turn more carnal.

And it’s there, while I’m bracing myself against the trunk of an olive tree, my boobs hanging free and Master C pounding my cunt from behind with his lovely thick, hard cock that I experienced it.

As I said, it was mildly disconcerting; the almost certainty that I’d been fucked there in that very spot, against that very tree before, even though I’d never been in that grove before.

In another sense it was also strangely arousing, a sense of almost watching myself being fucked, a sense of knowing how each thrust of Master C’s cock in my cunt would feel before it was delivered.

The sensation lasted no more than a second, after that it was just the delicious feeling of being fucked hard, yet languidly against the olive tree until Master C’s cock erupted inside me, filling my cunt with his warm, sticky cum.

As we lay together under the branches, once again it briefly felt hauntingly familiar, snuggled up in Master C’s arms as I’ve done countless times before.

Heat, combined with a bloody good fuck can, it seems, play tricks with the mind.

The sexual spectrum

Someone recently retweeted an old post for a submission to a meme called TMI Tuesday, which I quite liked. The link up date passed a long time ago, but I’ve stolen the questions, and answered them below:

From your life, tell us about an object, experience or idea related to each of the colours of the spectrum.

1. Red – the colour of my arse when I misbehave and Master C punishes me; either spanking me or, if I’ve been particularly naughty, thrashing me with His belt.
2. Orange – the colour of the sun as we watched it set, sinking into the sea, from the veranda of our apartment on our recent holiday in Greece.
3. Yellow – the colour of the sun in summer, beating down on me as I lie naked on a beach, or beside a pool, or in a remote spot in the country, savouring the feelings as its rays kiss my skin.
4. Green – the colour of the grass and the leaves on the trees in the forest glade that Master C and I often frequent for alfresco sex.
5. Blue – the colour of the sea, the waves lapping against my naked body as I welcome its cooling embrace as a temporary relief from the heat of the sun.
6. Violet – the colour of the bruises, inflicted by Master C’s belt; a visual reminder of my necessary punishment.

Bonus: What is the colour of sex?

Crimson – reflecting the surge of blood through my veins, the inflaming of my lips, the darkening of my nipples, the flush of my skin and the throbbing of my clit.

So long as they have a face…

…I will always have a place to sit.

Make no bones about it, I love having a partner’s tongue between my labia and on my clit, particularly if it is the tongue belonging to Master C. It doesn’t matter whether the other person is face down between my thighs or if I’m kneeling astride their face, the feeling of a tongue and mouth on my cunt is something I will never get too much of.

The risks of me accidentally breaking their nose or of me suffocating the partner in question and depriving myself of their tongue aside, there are good reasons from a purely practical perspective why sitting on a partner’s face is such a convenient position.

For a start, if I’m sucking a man off, once he’s blown his load in my mouth, I can simply just move up his body, straddle his head, lower myself on to his mouth and have him return the compliment.

Alternatively, when I’m on top, fucking him, riding his cock with abandon, it may be that he’s overheating while I still have a way to go. Again, it is so much easier for me to just slide off his cock, move up the bed, plant my cunt on his mouth and have him redress the balance before moving back down and reimpaling myself on him.

Sometimes, if I’m facing in the other direction, while he is mid feast, I can lean forward and either play with his cock with my hands, or take him into my mouth and reciprocate. I mean, let’s be honest,  69s aren’t particularly practical, but they can be fun every now and then. With Master C being at least 6″ taller than me, a 69 is much easier with me on top than it is with Him.

When I’m sitting on  Master C’s or “The Other Guy’s” face, they can reach up and play with my boobs as they lick me. They can finger either of my holes as their tongue lashes my clit. What’s more, by moving my weight around, I can directly control the pressure their tongue applies, giving me exactly the stimulation I want at that particular moment.

The same can be said when I’m having sex with “The Girl”. I’ve sat on her face, she has sat on mine. When we 69, as I am the taller of the two of us, she frequently goes on top.

It’s a very practical position and, as anyone who has ever gone down on a woman will know, it’s actually a lot less uncomfortable for the licker, in terms of not giving yourself a cricked neck, than burying yourself face down between her thighs is.

So, let’s hear it for face-sitting. I don’t care if I’m never going to be able to sell videos of me doing it, or having it done to me, I’m going to go right on enjoying it every chance I have.

I swallow

I suspect it comes as no surprise to learn that I swallow. Granted, I haven’t swallowed every load I’ve ever taken in my mouth, but the vast majority that I’ve taken have ended up in my stomach. After all, I’ve worked hard for my reward, I’ve earned it so, as long as I am allowed to do so, I’m going to savour and enjoy it. I’ve no objection to taking a load over my face, or my boobs if that’s the kind of mood I’m in, or if Master C decides that’s what I deserve, but I do love the feeling of a nice, thick, hot load of fresh cum trickling down my throat.

I’ve never really understood the whole “spit or swallow” thing. To me, it’s always been more about whether or not I allow a man to come in my mouth in the first place. Let’s face it, once he has shot his load in your mouth, it’s a bit too late to worry about what it tastes like and, if we’re being brutally honest, if it doesn’t taste pleasant, spitting it out isn’t going to change things. OK, so I admit, there are times when a guy’s cum tastes so foul that you spit out of reflex. It has happened to me and it can’t really be helped, sometimes it’s just automatic. As a general rule however, if it passes that first test, down it goes.

One of the ways I have tried to avoid this unfortunate scenario is to have a few general rules of thumb. Based on experience, the main one is, if the man smokes, I don’t let things get that far. It’s been a rule I’ve had ever since my teens, even back in my student days when I used to be a smoker myself. It hasn’t always guaranteed that the experience wouldn’t be unpleasant, but it has, I think, improved the odds.

Now, there are some women who just won’t let guys go that far. I have a very good friend who has never taken a load in her mouth, and I know she is not alone. She’ll happily let a guy dump a load of cum anywhere else on or in her, but she just can’t bring herself to let men co,e in her mouth. In her cunt, fine, up her arse, no problem, over her boobs, bring it on, in her mouth, no fucking way; the first hint of pre-cum when she’s sucking a guy and his cock is speedily transferred to another hole. She quite openly admits that just the thought of taking a load in her mouth makes her queasy.

Me, on the other hand, I was willing to give it a try, and the first load I took was sufficiently not too unpleasant to make me happy enough to keep doing it.

For a lot of women, assuming they were willing to try it in the first place, I suspect their decision whether or not to let a man unload in their mouth is based on how unpleasant or otherwise their first (and in many cases, I suspect, only) experience was. I was fortunate, others won’t have been.

When you have a regular partner, you can become accustomed to the flavour of their cum. You get familiar with the effect that their diet and lifestyle has on the taste. The first time you suck a man’s cock, however, you are largely taking a leap into the unknown; you really don’t know what you’re going to get. You can take “reasonable” precautions, for example my embargo on smokers, but even then you still don’t know what to expect. Even the cleanest tasting cock is capable of producing foul tasting semen; it’s a risk we just have to take. On the whole, I’ve been lucky, the “good” has by far outweighed the bad, but I have had my share of unpleasant experiences too.

As an aside, the Cosmo type magazines of this world would have us women believe that we shouldn’t waste our time going down on men who aren’t prepared to go down on us. Now, largely, I agree with this, but there are exceptions. It’s one thing if a man expects us to suck his cock but is too lazy, arrogant or self-absorbed to return the favour, but there are some men who, just as there a women who won’t let a man come in their mouth, get squeamish about putting their mouths to our lady parts.

I was with such a man for a spell when I was at Uni. He was a lovely guy and the sex was very good; but no amount of coaxing could make him overcome his cunniligaphobia. Even the less than subtle “I’ve done you, the least you could do is do me back” was met with a rueful shrug and a reply along the lines of “Well, so long as I get to fuck you, I guess I can live without getting my cock sucked”. The thing was, he had a very suckable cock, and, as I’ve said, was a pretty damned good fuck; the things he could do with his fingers and mouth could turn me inside out. Ultimately though, I missed getting my cunt eaten out, so it had to end. Shallow? Very probably, but I had needs that he, sadly, couldn’t satisfy.

Anyway, back to my original point; spit, swallow or don’t let him come in your mouth in the first place, it’s a choice every one of us has to make for ourselves and whichever way you fall, if the man whose cock you’re sucking is worth it, he will respect your choice. That said, it’s almost impossible to maintain an air of coy innocence with a mouthful of cum.

Feel good cuddle fucks

Sometimes I like to have my brains fucked out. Sometimes I like to have long, slow, passionate love made to me. Sometimes though, I just want to have sex; not because I’m feeling randy, nor because I specifically crave the release of orgasm, but simply because it feels so good.

I’m a very touchy feely person. Master C is equally tactile. Sometimes we have sex, not because we simply have to have each other, but because, at its most basic level, sex is simply the most intimate form of touching.

I’m also a self-confessed cuddle whore. I love the closeness, I love the feeling of protection I get from having a pair of big strong arms around me. Touch, cuddling and sex all fit nicely together.

Now, I like cuddles even when they don’t involve sex, but when they do, it can be fantastic.

It’s not essential that I come. Sometimes I will, and that’s a bonus, but the important thing is that it just feels nice. It’s relaxed, generally slow, no-one is particularly in charge, we’re just simply enjoying each other’s company and each other’s bodies. When, as inevitably, Master C comes, we just hold each other, kissing, caressing and sharing a feeling of intensely intimate closeness and contentedness.

Yes, I know, usually I’m a filthy little slut who likes it hard and rough, but deep down, I’m still a soppy romantic at heart.