Lazy lie-ins


Nothing beats a long, lazy, lie-in at the weekend, or when you are on holiday. There’s something special about knowing you don’t have to get up. Instead of being awakened by the shrill chime of the alarm, I am instead roused from my slumber by Master C kissing the back of my neck.

His finger traces a line up my side, then around the curve of my breast. I sigh and squirm against Him, feeling the warmth of His body against mine, His hard cock pressing against the curve of my arse.

His fingers seek out my nipples. As they stiffen, my cunt begins to grow moist.

I stretch and roll on to my back. I turn my head to face Him and Master C kisses me lingeringly on the lips, before starting down my neck.

He plants kisses on my boobs. He teases my nipples with His lips, His tongue, His teeth. It feels so good, my cunt grows wetter; Master C begins to move lower.

I spread my legs. He moves between them. Master C kisses the insides of my thighs. His breath is hot on my moist lower lips and I long to feel His tongue slide between them.

He teases; torturing me, making me beg for His tongue until Master C finally relents and shows me mercy.

It feels so good as He feasts on my cunt; not too rough, not too gently. My body responds as His tongue works its magic.

I come. Master C continues. I come again. I surrender to the sensations as they wash over and through me.

And then Master C is inside me; His lovely thick, hard cock filling and stretching me.

He fucks me, slowly but firmly. My cunt grips His cock as he moves inside me.

The pace increases. The force of His thrusts mounts as Master C fucks me harder.

The pressure in Him builds. Master C slams His body against mine, driving His cock in hard. I long to feel His release, feel His cum flood my cunt. I know it won’t be much longer.

His breathing quickens. I can feel His heart pound. He can’t hold back any more.

His cock erupts. He softly moans: “Morag! Oh Morag!” as He unloads inside me; flooding my cunt with a lovely warm, thick load.

Spent, Master C slumps on to me, pinning me beneath Him, His cock still twitching inside me as I wrap my arms around Him and hold Him close.

Finally he pulls out. We snuggle together. We doze for a while in each other’s arms.

We rouse a while later. Should we get up? Maybe, not yet. There is no need. With that in mind I kiss Him, my hand seeks out His cock, as I decide I’d like Him to do it to me all over again.

Kink of the Week

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A man on the brink


One of my favourite parts of sex, apart from my own orgasm, is that bit just before the man comes. It’s that eternally long drawn out moment where he tries to hold back and I agonise in a state of heightened anticipation, waiting for his release. There is something purely animal about a man who has reached the point of no return and is just about to flood your cunt full of cum.

I love to feel the tension in His body as Master C tries to hold on, milking every moment of His pleasure before he erupts. I love to feel the way His breathing becomes more laboured. I love the involuntary moans Master C makes in those final moments as He fights to contain the inevitable. I love the way his Hips thrust of their own volition between my thighs, counting down to the moment of eruption, knowing that His climax is inevitable.

What I love most of all, however, is the fact that, deep down, I know Master C, or indeed any man in this position, isn’t thinking of me any more; In those moments those men aren’t even fucking me, they are simply fucking. At this point in the proceedings, it doesn’t matter how considerate a lover the man in question is, the only thing that matters to him is his own climax; the fact that it’s my cunt his cock is buried in no longer matters, it could be any cunt; my body is simply the means to his end, my cunt, the receptacle for his seed.

As those last powerful few thrusts fill me, as his body goes tight, as the pressure insides him mounts and the doomsday clock ticks down to the point where Master C can hold back no longer, I know He isn’t thinking of me, He isn’t thinking of anything; He is simply a male in rut, just like any other, and the overpowering need for release blinds Him towards everything else.

Ironically, at this point, I am completely His. Master C owns me; He has used me and I long to feel Him release inside me, filling me, emptying Himself into me.

Time seems to come to a standstill. That final moment; that eternity of anticipation and then, with that last surging thrust, He comes. The tension drains from His body as His cum drains from His cock. As He comes, Master C moans my name; I have Him back, He is mine again and I am very definitely His.

When Master C slumps, spent on top of me, kissing me passionately, stroking my hair from my face, His cock making those post-climax, involuntary little thrusts as He basks in the afterglow of His release, I know Master C has retuned to me; He is once again the caring, considerate lover and no longer just a man driven by his urges and I am, once again, His devoted submissive and partner, not just a female body to be used for His pleasure.

Time begins again, and afterwards, as we lie snuggled together, I am so grateful that I am His and that Master C is mine.

#WickedWednesday

Think of a number


Think of a number. Now double it. Subtract the day of the month your birthday falls on. Divide by your bra size/inside leg measurement. Add forty-two. Round to the nearest whole number.

Yes, this is my take on that perennial old chestnut: “The Number!” You know the one I mean; the one about how many people we’ve had sex with.

It’s a question that comes up from time to time and, it seems, it is one that we are endlessly fascinated with.

Personally, I’m in the mildly curious but generally couldn’t give a fuck camp. It’s an interesting insight into the person you are currently fucking, possibly a handy bit of trivia to store away for those Mr and Mrs type quizzes, but, otherwise not important.

The problem with it is, that when you start thinking about it, it’s not actually a straightforward question.

What exactly counts as a sexual partner?

If you limited it strictly to men and women that I’ve fucked, and if you give me some time, I could probably work it out. It would, however, take me considerably longer than it took Andie MacDowell’s character in Four Weddings and a Funeral. But then, you see, I’ve included women, and I haven’t had penetrative sex with women, only oral and finger play. So does than mean that I also now have to include all those men with whom I have only ever sucked their cocks? On the assumption that it does, then I have no chance at all of determining the total; given that my penchant for the drunken, random, back of the pub blow-job means that I really don’t know.

Still, even if I could, somehow, divine the total number of men who’s cocks I’ve sucked and add it to the number of men I’ve fucked (eliminating any duplication as I go), and then add on the women I’ve had sex with, does this give me my number?

What about the lad I jerked off at a friend’s 16th birthday party? What about the boy in my class whom I let thoroughly finger me so I could scrounge a cigarette off him when I was at school? What about that boy that first kissed and sucked my nipples and made me feel oh so good when we were both horny teenagers, even if I didn’t actually come? What about…?

You see my point though. Clearly “the number” does not simply refer to penetration. If it did, then I would have had no female sexual partners, and I most certainly have had sex with women. But, if sexual partners are not limited to those that you have had penetrative sex with, where do you draw the line?

Orgasm perhaps? Well maybe, but does that mean if I don’t come, I haven’t had sex? No, surely not. On the other hand, does the boy who snuck his hand up my top to cop a feel while snogging me at a school disco also count? Again, I don’t think so (although, had I not wanted him to do it, it could possibly have counted as sexual assault).

So, given that I can’t suitably define what a sexual partner is, how can I possible tell you how many I’ve had?

Let’s just say I’ve had rather a lot and let it go at that…

#MasturbationMonday

Taking Him in hand


Let’s be honest, there are times when our body lets us down; we’re tired, stressed, or, God forbid, just not really in the mood for sex. Yes, I know it may come as a shock, but even the most insatiable sluts sometimes have their off days.

Of course, just because we aren’t really up for getting down, it doesn’t mean we can’t still give Him a good time.

The good old hand-job often seems like a neglected act in a couple’s sexual repertoire, which is strange given that, if you are like me, it was probably the first overtly sexual act that a lot of us women (or girls as we were back then) ever performed on a guy. Long, long before I lost my virginity, and before I became the cock-sucking addict that I am, I loved stroking guy’s cocks. I loved making the guy I was with hard, making him lose control, and eventually firing off a load. It was such a hot experience just knowing that I could do that to a guy and, even though I moved on to “bigger and better” things, it’s still something I love to do.

I’ve said before how much I enjoy being responsible for getting a guy hard. There are times, either as a result of one or more of the reasons listed above, or simply because I want to do something nice for Master C, when I will fall back on this most wonderfully simple method of pleasing Him. There is something extremely gratifying knowing that what I am doing the cause of that reaction as His cock responds to my touch; getting longer, thicker, stiffer. I love how Master C reacts when I touch Him in different ways; stroking His shaft, teasing the tip, playing with His balls, running my fingertip over His frenulum. Each touch elicits its own response. The sigh, the moan, the involuntary flinch, the sharp intake of breath.

As I lie beside Him, my hand sliding up and down His shaft, I love to feel the tension in His body build as His pleasure increases.

Again, as a submissive woman, I love the reversal of control. I can decide how much to tease, I can decide when to let Master C cum. I can speed up, slow down, I can change the pressure of my grip, concentrate on another area. Each action of mine has its corresponding reaction. The laws of physics apply to sex every but as much as they do everywhere else.

Sometimes, as I stroke those lovely, hard, proud inches of flesh, I like to tell Master C naughty stories; encounters from my past, trysts with other men or women, things I want Him to do to me, things that remind Him of what an insatiable filthy little slut I am. I know the effect this has on Master C; I know how much my words turn Him on.

As His climax nears, I love the way His cock swells and pulses in my hand. I love the way His lower abdomen tightens. I love the way His breathing strains as Master C does everything He can to delay the inevitable.

Where should He cum? For once, the choice is mine. Do I let Him fire his load into the air, letting it fall where ever it lands? Do I aim His cock so that His eruption lands on my skin, allowing me to more fully savour His moment of release? Do I move, place the tip of His lovely straining cock at my lips so Master C can fill my mouth with His rich, creamy essence?

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter; I go with what feels right at the time. The important thing is not the manner of His final explosion, only that I have brought Master C there; pleasured Him, served Him. His release is my reward and when Master C moans my name, when the pent-up tension drains from His body, when He gathers me to Him and holds me in His strong arms and calls me His “good girl”, I know Master C is pleased with me, and that’s what it was all about.

#MasturbationMonday Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Marked


I was watching a porn clip earlier that really got my juices flowing. In it, the girl was going down on a guy in what was clearly some kind of public toilet.

The girl in question was probably in her mid twenties. pretty, blonde curlyish hair, blue eyes, and a very perky pair of boobs. They guy, well to be honest, the only bit of him I could see was the portion of his cock that wasn’t in her mouth, but it certainly looked like a very tasty specimen. I don’t speak much German, but it was pretty obvious he was enjoying the girl’s attentions.

Of course, after a few minutes of having his cock hungrily and enthusiastically sucked, he reaches his climax. Does he reward her for a (blow) job well done, and cum in her mouth? No, of course not; he pulls out and blows an unbelievably large load all over her face and boobs. If the average guy produces between 5ml and 10ml of ejaculate, this guy must have been storing it up for months; by the time he was finished, she looked like she’d had a pint of the stuff splashed on her. It did, however, look as sexy as fuck.

So, so far we’ve had:
– Sex in a semi-public place. Check!
– A pretty girl drenched in a thick load of cum. Check!

As you can see, it has already ticked a couple of my “Fuck Yeah” boxes.

She goes to clean herself up and is told, in one of the few words of German I know, very firmly, “Nein!”

The guy pulls up his shorts and proceeds to back out of the toilet, beckoning the girl, who is still naked, to follow.

So, quite clearly, we are about to have public humiliation. CHECK!

The toilet transpires to be one of those huts, next to a beach, where sunbathers can go to “freshen up”. The girl then has to walk past the people lying on their sunbeds, his cum still very noticeable on her skin, until she reaches the sea. Only once she is in the water, is she able to wash his cum off.

Needless to say, I found this short, seven or so minute clip, extremely hot. The wank and the orgasm that followed it lasted longer than the clip itself.

Part of me wanted to be that girl. The nakedness, the naughtiness, the shamelessness, the sluttiness. Not to mention she’d had the pleasure of having I mighty nice cock to suck on.

Part of me wanted to be that shameless exhibitionist; walking proudly, drenched in cum for all to see. Another part of me cringed in terror of the prospect that Master C may do something similar to me, while at the same time, I’m secretly hoping that He does.

So basically, if I absolutely had to create a porn site, it would definitely feature pretty girls getting drenched in cum before having to display their badge of sluttiness to anyone who just happened to be close enough to see it. And, if it just so happens that the woman who gets to be drenched with a lovely thick load of cum (or several) before being humiliated in public happens to be me on occasion, well, so much the better.

Now, on that delicious thought, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to indulge in another wank.

#WickedWednesday

Your sub, your way?


When it comes to sex, I love having things to be done to me. I enjoy being spanked, I love being restrained, blindfolds figure quite frequently in my sex play and I thoroughly love being taken, by a strong, confident man who is comfortable and secure enough to use my body in a way that brings him, and ultimately me, pleasure.

I’ve used that word: “taken” again. As I mentioned in a recent post on the subject of blow-jobs, the vast majority of sexual acts are done, no matter how actively and enthusiastically we participate, to women. Nature has designed the female body to be the receiver. Not that I’m complaining, I do like being on the receiving end of a bloody good fuck, and both Master C and “The Other Guy” are particularly adept at dishing those out. The result, I believe, is, that the sexual act is inherently submissive from the female perspective. We give our bodies to our partners, and men take their pleasure from us. Even when we women initiate things, ultimately it is our legs that part and we offer ourselves up to our partner.

Now, again, I’m not complaining; I love that feeling of having whichever hole is being taken stretched and filled by a cock. I love being pinned down beneath a guy as he thrusts into me, filling me with those rock hard, proud several inches of flesh.

I’m all in favour of sexual equality, but the male and female bodies are not designed to be equal.

Now, I like a little tenderness and romance; I am a woman after all, but I also like a man who knows what he wants. I want my men to be, well, manly. I want them to fuck me properly. Sometimes this can be slow and gentle and loving, other times it can be rough, fast, hard.

It’s a huge turn-on for me, when Master C comes home, kisses me roughly, spins me around, bends me over the table, flips up my skirt and just takes me roughly from behind and just pounds my cunt or arse until He cums hard inside me. It’s a sign that He wants me for that purpose and that purpose alone. I know, because I’ve asked, and He’s admitted, that at that particular moment, it doesn’t actually matter that it’s me He’s fucking, all Master C is aware of is His own need; to all intents and purposes, I am simply an object for him to take His gratification from and, ironically (and I’m aware the rabidly feminist of my readers will be appalled by this), as a woman, I relish in this. It’s primal, it’s animal and it’s knicker-moisteningly good.

At other times, what starts off as slow and tender can, as the passion mounts, slowly grow until it becomes a full-on cunt pounding, and again, that’s great.

We women are receivers; men are givers and takers; that’s how nature has designed us. That’s not to say that we women can’t use men for our own pleasure; of course we can. I do frequently, and I’m sure most, if not all women reading this do, or have done so.

But for me, much of the pleasure comes from tipping the man I happen to be with, whether it be Master C, “The Other Guy” or some random I’ve met in the pub, over the edge so he releases his inner Cro-Magnon. Much as I love tenderness and romance, I also love it hard and rough; the kind of sex that leaves both participants sweaty, exhausted and, in my case at least, satisfyingly achy in places.

So I guess some of the submissive in me that comes, for no other reason, than the fact that I have a vagina, and I love having it stuffed full of penis. Sometimes I think that the human body is the model of bad design, but in sex, I think nature got it about right…

#MasturbationMonday

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.

#WickedWednesday

Choked


Master C kisses me as He puts His belt around my neck. My cunt grows wet as He pulls it into place around me; not too tight, just enough that it lightly presses against my skin.

“Are you ready, little slut?”

“Yes Sir!”

I lie back, tilt my head back over the arm of the sofa and open my mouth. With His belt held firmly in his fist, Master C pushes His cock into my mouth.

He drives it in deep; in this position His cock pushes deep down my throat. Without the belt, it would be hard to breath; with it, it is almost impossible.

He fucks my throat with long, slow, deep strokes. As His cock moves between my lips, Master C begins to pull on his belt, slowly tightening its grip around my neck.

With each thrust of his cock, it becomes even more difficult to breathe; my lungs become increasingly starved of air. His leather cuts into my skin. The buckle presses against my windpipe. His thick cock obstructs my airway.

Tears flow from my eyes. My cunt is uncomfortably wet.

The belt tightens. The lack of air makes me lightheaded. Every so often, he pulls his cock from my mouth, allowing me a few seconds to gasp and fill my lungs before continuing the onslaught.

My jaw aches. My throat is raw. Hot tears sting my eyes. I desperately want to finger my cunt to give me some relief, but my hands are bound tightly behind my back.

Master C fucks my mouth, He fucks my throat. He is relentless, my mouth is simply a hole for His cock; my body, an object for Master C to use and enjoy.

Suddenly He is gone.  As I gasp, pulling air into my oxygen starved lungs, Master C erupts over me. His cum splashes over my face.

Have I pleased Him? I await my sentence.

“Well done, little slut, you did very well,” Master C says as He helps me to sit up and unties the bindings from my wrists. “For that, I’m only going to give you two lashes… Per cheek.”

I remove his belt from around my neck  and, with downcast eyes, I offer it to Him.

“Thank you, Sir,” I say in a hoarse whisper as I turn around and, with a shudder of anticipation, assume the required position…

#MasturbationMonday The Oral Sex Project

It’s not just about orgasms


It’s probably just as well given the ephemeral nature of the female orgasm. Sure, some of are lucky, some of us come quite easily, some of us enjoy multiple ones, some of our orgasms go on for ages (compared to guys, whose tend to be over in a few quick spurts); but even for the least orgasmically challenged of us there are times when it just doesn’t happen. Sometimes we’re not really in the mood, other times we’re just not turned on enough, sometimes were just having sex because it feels nice and we’re not that fussed. As women, we’re probably all familiar with this, it happens, but actually, just having sex is enough for us. But sometimes, occasionally, there is that most frustrating on non-orgasmic situations: the orgasm that got away…

We’ve all been there, I’m almost certain of it. There’s the feeling of anticipation, followed by the intense arousal as our lady-parts grow flushed and increasingly wet. Then there’s that long plateau phase, where the things he (or she) is doing to us feel so good you don’t want them to stop. The sensations grow more intense, you can feel yourself surrendering to the feelings that are so nearly overwhelming you, you’re on the very cusp and then…

  • The cat chooses that moment to jump on the bed;
  • Your mum phones;
  • One of you sneezes/farts or has some other bodily exclamation;
  • He/she changes position, trapping your hair/boob/other part under his/her elbow causing intense unexpected pain; or
  • A host of other possible things that knock you off your stride.

And then it’s gone, and no matter what he/she does, unless they are a miracle worker, it isn’t coming back. Even for those of us for whom climaxing is relatively easy, the very fragile of our orgasms means that we will experience this at some time or another.

For guys, most of the time they generally seem to just be able to carry on until its done, for us however, we just have to resign ourselves to the fact that, this time, it isn’t happening and just enjoy the rest of the fuck.

Fortunately, we enjoy being fucked regardless of whether or not we come. Yes, orgasms are great and ours are every bit as important to us as guys’ orgasms are to them, but really they are the chocolate coated cherry on the icing of the cake.

Great sex is all about making us feel great. Granted, nothing achieves that more than an orgasm (or two, or more), but the truth is orgasms during sex are a bonus, and if we don’t have one during, we can probably dig out our favourite toy and beat one off in pretty short order afterwards; secure in the knowledge that we’ll probably be able to have a couple more before he’s ready again.

The fact that sex is something that can be enjoyed even if, sometimes, orgasm can be elusive is something that I am definitely grateful for.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Variety


If you have read this blog, you will know that I am a fairly adventurous slut. I’m generally in the mood for trying new things and, when circumstances allow, fucking new people. That being the case it’s probably no surprise that when it came to this week’s questions, I’ve probably tried (and usually enjoyed) most of them.

Tickling
I am extremely ticklish and, I absolutely hate being tickled; particularly my feet and my lower back, but really, just about anywhere. Master C is, of course, aware of this, and delights in using it as a way of tormenting and torturing me. Usually He just uses his fingers, it doesn’t take much to set me off, but other items have included feathers an upholstery brush, woolly gloves, and even the plastic bristles of an old hair brush (the reverse of which was used to spank me when I complained too vociferously about the tickling).

HATE being tickled and yet, when Master C does it to me, I am powerless to resist; I simply have to endure it until He decides to take pity on me and do something else instead.

Food
It can be fun. I’ve had Master C pour melted chocolate over me and nibble it off. I’ve licked chocolate sauce and cream from His cock. He has licked ice cream from my cunt. The most intense experience was when Master C turned me into what He delighted in calling a “Morag Sundae”; hot chocolate sauce on my nipples, ice cream on my cunt. The contrast between heat and cold was mind-blowing and when you factor in what Master C did with His tongue, well, I’m sure you can imagine.

Heat/Cold Play
Well, the food bit above covers that off, but I also enjoy wax play. There’s just something delicious about feeling the heat on my skin, and the way it pinches as it cools and dries. Then there’s the pain as it pulls the fine hairs out of their follicles as it is removed. As someone who has a thing for pain, this is a bit of a double whammy for me. The initial burning heat of the wax and then impromptu depilation.

At the other extreme, ice on my nipples is truly wonderful. In fact, ice being trailed anywhere over my skin is a delightful experience, but when it touches those really sensitive bits, my nipples, my labia, my clit, it sends lightening bolts shooting through me. Having my cunt licked by someone who is sucking on an ice cube is one of the most wonderfully pain/pleasure filled things I have ever experienced.

Blindfold/Restraint
I’ve bundled these together as, so often, they are things that are done at the same time. Being restrained puts me completely at the mercy of the other person; I am completely helpless and vulnerable. Add a blindfold so I have no idea what is about to happen or who is about to do something to me (especially in a group play scenario) and I’m almost certainly going to be wetter than a rainy weekend in next to no time. I love that feeling of helplessness. I love the fact that whoever I am with can do whatever they want with me and to me. I love that I just have to accept that I am about to be used (or not) for the other person’s pleasure and there is nothing I can do to influence or prevent what might happen.

Spankings/Discipline
I mentioned being spanked up above and I have written about discipline many times. It ties into my identity as a submissive and it plays to the pain lover in me. Being punished isn’t about play or spicing things up, it is an essential part of my dynamic with Master C. I am allowed to be the slut I am because there are consequences that I accept. That’s not to say I won’t go out of my way to earn myself a spanking/thrashing; I absolutely will. I love the feel of his hand or his belt marking my skin. To me it’s a reaffirmation of his claim on me and that is something to be cherished.

Casual/Random Sex
Yes, if I really want to “spice” things up, there’s nothing that gets me going more than knowing that, if I want to and am prepared to accept the consequences, I can fuck whoever takes my fancy. I’m not sure if I’m ever going to grow out of the thrill of being dragged into a dark alley behind a pub/club and sucking a total stranger’s cock, or having him fuck me in a doorway; especially when I know that Master C‘s belt will await me when I confess my transgression later.

Being a Slut
I’ve said it before, but I am a slut. Specifically, I am Master C‘s slut. He allows me to explore and be who I am. Really, that is all the spice I need.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday