I flirt, therefore I am…


I am a flirt, I make no apologies for it; I always have been and (hopefully) I always will be. One of the reasons I have this blog is to allow my flirtiness free reign.

I do occasionally get asked why, if I’m so ridiculously in love with Master C, do I feel the need to behave in such a brazen fashion and how does He feel about it? The truth is, I just just enjoy the (usually) harmless attention that it gets me. Yes, I’m totally and hopelessly devoted to my wonderful Master, but I get a buzz from the fact that, despite being well and truly taken, men (and women) find me attractive in a sexual way. As for Master C, not only does He not mind, He openly encourages me. For Him, it’s almost an ego thing; others may fancy me, but He is the one that has me. It also means that on those occasions where I succumb to another man’s flirtation, I will pay the consequences of my actions and feel the kiss of Master C‘s belt.

I know not everyone will agree with me, and some people will probably see some dark secret desires or denied relationship dissatisfaction in my actions, but nothing could be further from the truth. It’s part of our bond, it all comes down to mutual respect and trust; we are together but neither of us dictates what the other can and can’t do. I am free to do what I please and with whomever I please so long as I am willing to take responsibility for and bear the consequences for my actions.

I get a buzz out of it. What woman (or man) doesn’t want to feel desired and wanted? I enjoy the attention, and I enjoy it for the harmless fun that it is. I enjoy the thrill of being “seduced” by someone who takes my fancy and letting the attraction run its natural course. It’s a part of who I am, a part of the person that Master C nurtures, cherishes and loves, and I’m not going to change; if I did, I wouldn’t be the same person any more.

Judge me if you will, agree or disagree as you see fit, play along or walk on past. What matters is that I am Master C‘s slut and He loves and respects me for who I am, and the same is true in reverse.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday
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First fuck politics


First times can be tricky things sometimes.

Sometimes they can be pretty straightforward; the drunken, random, don’t ask their name, don’t tell them yours one-nighter. Yes, I’ll admit that I’ve had my share of these. In this situation, it’s basically just a fuck, it’s what both parties want. There’s no “getting to know you”, there’s not even the slightest consideration that this might become a “thing”; it’s simply just fucking as an elaborate form of masturbation, with little or no consideration for the other party. To be honest, in the grand scheme of things, they don’t really even qualify as “first times” as there’s very little chance of them ever being repeated.

No, the first times I mean are the “date” types.

There’s the whole fuck on the first date, or wait dilemma. If I fuck him on the first date, will he think I’m cheap/easy/a slut? If I wait until the second or third date before fucking him, only for the sex to be crap, have I wasted my time when I could have fucked him on the first date and moved on?

There are no right or wrong answers to this.

Yes, I have fucked on the first date and yes, sometimes I have waited. There have been good and bad experiences in both situations.

In the case of Master C and me, it’s fair to say that we didn’t date until after the fourth or fifth fuck.

The sexual politics and double-standards can be a bit of a minefield though.

Sometimes, you just know, even on the first date, sometimes right at the point of meeting them, that the night is going to end up in bed. The chemistry is there, the spark, the lust, it just all clicks into place and by the time the meal/drink/film/welcoming kiss is over, all both of you want to do is tear each other’s clothes off and get down to it. If that happens, great. If the sex is even half way good and the guy isn’t a total out-for-himself bastard, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll do it again. If it later transpires that despite the quality of the fucking, the rest of the relationship is non-existent, you can move on and at least you’ve had some fun along the way.

Similarly, sometimes it pays to go a bit more slowly. You may like him but he doesn’t quite excite you. You try a few more times and you either decide to fuck him or fuck off. I will admit to the fact that there have been occasions when I’ve fucked him and that has been what has finally decided me to fuck off, but that’s a different issue.

The truth is though, there is no “right” time to fuck somebody for the first time other than, possibly, if it feels right, then do it.

The other dilemma, having had that first fuck, is do you want to have a second? That is one that only you can decide. First fucks are rarely mind-blowingly great, but there is usually enough indication as to whether or not repeated practice would make it worthwhile. If you’ve unleashed your world class blow-job skills on him, and he’s reciprocated by giving your clit a perfunctory and obligatory flick of his tongue before climbing aboard and giving your cunt a two minute pounding before rolling off and starting to snore, then the chances are, you’re probably not going to give him another chance; but what if the reason he came so quickly was that you were just a little too enthusiastic with your sucking, leaving him no hope of lasting? Maybe a second try once he’s got his breath back?

Your instinct is probably your only real guide; only you can decide how much pleasure giving potential he has. Ultimately though, sometimes a girl just has to move on and prepare herself for her next first time.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Hooked up


So, this week the questions related to “hook-ups” and I suspect that it will  come as no surprise to you that this is a subject that I have a certain amount of familiarity with. Actually, it would be more accurate to say it’s a subject I have had experience with, as it tends not to be something I actually do any more.

It’s not that I’ve given up on casual sex. If you’ve read any of this blog you will know that I am very much a cock-hungry slut and I still enjoy random casual encounters. By and large though, these encounters are not planned; they are, as I said, random. And by random I mean that I haven’t previously arranged to meet up and fuck them, they are simply someone who has caught my eye and I’ve decided I want to have some fun with them.  Probably the only things that come close to being “hook-ups” for me nowadays are when I make plans to get together with either “The Girl” or “The Other Guy”. Given that these are “established relationships” that I have, I suspect they aren’t really “hook-ups” in the sense meant by the question, but that doesn’t make them any less enjoyable when they happen, or in any way dampen the anticipation I feel when waiting for one that has been arranged to happen.

For me, “hook-ups” in the “traditional” sense happened in the period between breaking up with my ex and meeting Master C.

Almost invariably,  they were arranged via sites like Plenty Of FishAdult Friendfinder or Fabswingers (don’t bother looking for me on any of those, my profiles are long gone). Contact was made, messages were exchanged and, if all went well, plans to meet were agreed. The “usual” protocol was that first meeting would be “social” to see if we clicked. Generally though, if we did “click” we’d be out the back of the venue for a blow-job/quickie and before heading back to whichever of our respective places was nearer for one or more encores.

Not only did I meet guys locally, I also used to meet them when I was away for work in places like London, Bristol, Birmingham, Cardiff, Belfast or Newcastle. After all, if you’re going to spend a night or two in a hotel, you might as well have some fun while you’re at it.

The sex, as sex does, varied in quality from pretty rubbish to pretty damned amazing. On the whole, I never had what you might call a bad experience (I was always quite lucky that way), although I did have more than a few that, in sex terms, might be described as disappointing.

For me, it was a convenient way for a cock-hungry slut to get herself fucked on a (fairly) regular basis. Today, of course, I have Master C, “The Girl” and “The Other Guy” to attend to most of my needs and, so long as I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions, as much random casual sex as I can find for those times when I fancy something a little bit off menu. I can, it seems, have my cake and eat it (as well as being frequently and expertly eaten) and, on the whole, I for one am not complaining.

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Meaningless sex?


A very good friend of mine once said:

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she realises that meaningless sex just is no longer enough.

She then went on to follow this up with:

This is quickly followed, however, with the realisation that even meaningless sex is better than none at all.

Now, my friend’s situation was that she was single following an extremely painful break-up and that since the split, the only sex she had had, had been casual encounters, the majority of them one-night stands, where there was no commitment and little or no feelings involved. The sex she was having was, by her own admission, being had pretty much only for the sake of having sex, to scratch an itch, or just simply “keeping her hand in” (although, I suspect, it was actually more to do with giving her hand a rest, but that’s another story…) To her, the sex was meaningless, not because she didn’t enjoy it, because she would be the first to admit that, generally, she did, but because there was a lack of connection with the guys she was having sex with. The truth was, she missed the closeness and connection that she had had with her long-term partner and that the sex she was now having was driven more by hormonal/emotional needs rather than any feeling or desire on her part.

Remembering this discussion when I recently caught up with her again, got me thinking.

In some ways, our situations had a lot in common. Before meeting Master C, I too had experienced a bad break-up and betrayal of trust that, for one reason or another, sent me down a path that involved a lot of casual sex that, by my friend’s definition could be considered “meaningless”. Certainly I attached very little emotional investment in the guys I fucked, even the ones I quite liked and, so, fucked more than once. The quality of the sex varied; from the absolutely awful to the multiple-orgasmicly fantastic; but was it meaningless?

I guess this is where my perspective and that of my friend differ; and the main reason for that is, I suspect, age. My friend was, more or less the same age I am now when she went through this. When My betrayal happened I much younger, having not long graduated. She was already secure in her sexuality and sexual identity; whereas for me, I was still very much at the novelty stage (given most of my early sexual adventures happened while I was at university). As a result, where my friend found the whole experience unsatisfactory, I was, in a way, very much still learning what I liked. Each guy (and girl) that I fucked taught me something new, both about sex, and about myself. For me there was an excitement about each encounter, whereas for my friend, it was just another repetition of the same situation that served only to remind her that she was single and what she wanted most was the companionship of a loving relationship.

In that way, she was, I confess, much more mature than me, but that is understandable. She had had her experimental phase in her teens, met her “ideal” guy at Uni in her early 20s, settled down and was planning a future with him when his betrayal turned her world upside down. In my case, I was still a naïve young woman who was happy to fuck any guy that paid her any sort of attention (“what has changed?”, I hear you ask). That’s not to say I regret my promiscuity, I don’t, it taught me an awful lot about myself and allowed me to hone the skills that Master C, “The Girl” and “The Other Guy” now enjoys on a regular basis, but I will admit that I could have been a bit more selective in some of the guys I fucked.

So, for me, casual sex may not have had much meaning to it, but it certainly wasn’t meaningless. Perhaps, in the words of my friend, I hadn’t come to that “time” in my life.

Oh, and before I forget, one other similarity that we share is that, just as I met Master C, she did eventually meet someone with whom the sex clearly did mean something. I say that because she is now happily married and the reason we caught up was that I was a guest at the christening of their second child (whom I managed to give back without dropping). I must, however, point out that as much as I am delighted for her, this did not ignite any feelings of broodiness on my own part.

So can sex ever be meaningless? I guess that really depenmds on the experience and perspective of the person that is having the sex in question.

As for sex and love, well, for me at least, while I enjoy all the sex I have with whomever I have it with, the best sex of all is definitely the sex that I have with Master C, followed closely by the sex I have with both “The Girl” and “The Other Guy”. I will be honest and admit that I do love all three (albeit in very different ways); so I would have to say that, as far as this little slut is concerned, love does make sex better.

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A dirty little fantasy


A little daydream; inspired, in part, by my previous post.

While out with friends, I meet a stranger in a club or bar.

We sneak out, find some dark, out of the way alleyway, then he fucks me hard, in my mouth, pussy and arse before blowing his load over my boobs.

We return to the club/bar, go back to our respective groups of friends as if nothing has happened (although my top is sticking uncomfortably to my cum covered boobs).

We never tell each other our names.

When I get home, Master C thrashes me soundly for being an insatiable, filthy little slut before giving all three of my holes another rough and very thorough fucking and adding his load to that of the stranger’s on my skin.

I fall asleep; tired, sticky, a little tender and sore, but very VERY happy…

Drunkeness


So, it’s Friday again.  It is also payday. As such, a group of us from work will be going out which, of course, means alcohol.

Now, there are some people who manage to hold their drink with a certain decorum; despite being a little dishevelled they manage to carry it off with a certain style and classiness. You know they’ve had a few too many but yet, they still manage to convey a sense of elegance, if not quite sophistication.

Sadly, I am not one of those people.

No, despite being Scottish, when it comes to alcohol, I am a total lightweight; anything more than two large glasses of wine and I’m pretty much anybody’s. I know this from bitter experience. Although, to be fair, I am frequently quite literally “anybody’s” so it’s not all bad all the time.

So, do I ever learn from these displays of public embarrassment?  No, of course not.

I can guarantee that this evening, once again, I’ll be there, doing my best, but failing miserably as usual to keep up with my colleagues and friends, and before I know it, I’ll be drunk tweeting, will have probably bought, and smoked most of a packet of Regal  (Note: I don’t smoke, except when I’ve had too much to drink), will have sent numerous suggestive texts to Master C, “The Girl” and “The Other Guy” describing in graphic and lurid detail what I want them to do to me and what I want to do to them in return, I will almost certainly end up sucking some random guy off and/or getting fucked behind the pub and, finally, one of my friends will have to pour me into a taxi at the end of the night.

I know I shouldn’t do it, I am fully aware that I have no capacity for alcohol, I know I’ll end up making an utter mess of myself, and I know I’ll feel like death for the next few days afterwards, but I also know I can’t help myself sometimes and I’m going to do it anyway. On the plus side, if I’m very bad, I will almost definitely earn myself the attention of Master C‘s belt, so there is a potential silver lining to this particular cloud.

So, if during the course of the evening, you happen to stumble across someone looking like she’s only just managed to escape the fall of civilisation while picking your way through town, please be gentle with me.

Casual sex


I think it’s probably safe to say that Master C‘s and my sex-drives are pretty equally matched, so in terms of the question:

How do you cope when your level of sexual desire doesn’t match that of your partner?

I don’t think this has ever been an issue for us. I suspect the fact that we are quite openly poly would mean that we might not notice even if our sex-drives did get out of whack. And “whack” is almost certainly what I’d get if I did anything about it.

I’ve frequently admitted to the fact I’ve had my share of casual sex and, generally, I’ve enjoyed it. Let’s be honest, so long as I am willing to accept the consequences of my actions, it does have number of things going for it.

First there’s the excitement. There’s something exhilarating about that first, will we, won’t we, oh fuck it, just do me moment. Sexual excitement is a powerful and intoxicating thing. It’s an affirmation that we are sexual beings and that someone finds us attractive and wants us, physically. It’s primal, it’s the mating and breeding instinct (even though, in the main, the breeding part isn’t what we’re looking for). It’s the urge for the male to spread his seed far and wide; it’s the need for the woman to find the strongest, fittest potential mate. It’s possibly one of the most ancient urges in us all and that’s what makes it so exciting.

Then there’s the novelty. At its most basic, at the end of the day, sex is simply a means by which the male of the species impregnates the female. But, in reality, it is so much more than that. No two partners are ever the same. How they touch us, how they make us feel, how they bring us to orgasm (or not), their technique, and yes, sometimes their size all add to the experience. Some experiences are good, some not so, but everyone is different.

There are many interactions between men and women, but sex, when it is done right, is the most pleasurable. And as humans, we have an insatiable hunger for new experiences and, since there are so many variables in what makes sex pleasurable, taking our pleasure from multiple partners can seem a very attractive proposition.

As I said, I’ve had casual sex and I’ve enjoyed it too, but it also has it’s disadvantages.

First, while novelty and variety bring excitement, they also bring unfamiliarity. Unless you only ever had sex with someone once (and I’ll admit, I have done that), the first sex you have with someone, however novel, however exciting, is extremely unlikely to be the best sex you have with someone. There’s just no getting away from the fact that the first time you have sex with a new partner, you just don’t know your way around their body. The basics are always broadly similar but it’s the differences, little things that turn us on that are only discovered through familiarity that make the difference between good sex and great sex.

Also, for me anyway, I find the best sex of all comes from there being a deep (emotional as well as physical) connection with the person I’m having sex with. I’m not saying you can’t have a connection with a casual fuckbuddy, but I’ve never experienced one on the same level as the connection I experience with Master C.

The other drawback, again for me at least, is condoms. However, unless you want to play Russian-Roulette with sexually transmitted diseases, when indulging yourself with multiple random partners, they are a necessary evil. Granted, some people don’t use them, that’s up to them and I don’t judge them but, for me, they are an absolute necessity. I will happily dispense with them for the purposes of blow-jobs, but only Master C gets to fuck me without one.

Anyway, again, these are only my views, you are free to agree or disagree as you see fit. At the end of the day, sex is there to be enjoyed, and enjoy it I certainly do.  Casual sex allows me to (hopefully) enjoy the excitement and novelty that I described above, coupled with the fact I know that I will have to endure Master C‘s belt as punishment for my actions.

Having said that, no one knows my body, my tastes, my desires as well as Master C does. No one knows how to turn me on and turn me into an incoherent mess quite like Him. As much as I do enjoy casual sex, I enjoy what Master C gives me so much more. In fact, I’m now definitely looking forward to him getting home from work, so I can serve Him and enjoy His attentions..

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What is a slut?


Having gone to an all girls private school, a slut was someone who was known to be (or at the very least believed to be) sexually active and was known (or believed) to have had sex with more than a “socially acceptable” number of partners. Now, I’ve no idea what that “socially acceptable” number is, but given that I had fucked a fair number of both men and women before I left school, I dare say that I qualify on those grounds. I’m certainly not going to quibble about the number itself.

A definition in an old dictionary I once found was something like this:

Slut A sexually promiscuous woman. Differentiated from a whore insomuch as she gives freely of her body, whereas the whore doth give use of hers by way of commerce.

Well, as I am by pretty much any definition a sexually promiscuous woman, it seems a safe bet that I qualify on those grounds too.

Another definition I’ve encountered is that a slut is someone who has had more sexual partners than birthdays.  Guess what? Yes, quite clearly, I qualify here too.  In fact, I qualified somewhere between my 16th and 17th birthdays and, even if I were never to shag another person in my life, I suspect I actually wouldn’t live long enough to ever discharge my insluttedness.

The two things all these definitions have in common is that:

  1. A slut is a woman; and
  2. The woman in question has had multiple sexual partners.

Basically then, what I am saying is, that by any common definition you care to use, I am a slut!

There, I’ve said it, I am a slut and, frankly, I’m actually quite proud of it.  Not so much of the number per se, but from the fact that my wanton promiscuity has taught me a shitload about who I am and has made me the person I am today.  I wouldn’t be the Morag I am if I hadn’t become a slut.

Even today, with the guidance of Master C, I am still a slut. Very specifically, I am Master C’s slut, granted, but a slut nonetheless.

You see, to me, being a slut is an attitude, not the number of people you fucked.  It’s about being comfortably deviant in the bedroom (or kitchen, or driveway, or wherever…), it’s about being able to enjoy certain sexual activities that you could never imagine your parents doing (God forbid that my mum ever did even a fraction of the stuff I’ve done, and if she did, I never want to know), it’s about being confident in your sexuality and your sexual tastes and appetites and using that confidence to get what you want.

It’s not necessarily about being submissive, although you can be, and I most certainly am; but it is about exploring your boundaries and broadening them wherever possible. As I’ve said numerous times before, sexual acts are generally performed on us women because we are designed to be on the receiving end, but that doesn’t mean we have to take this lying down (unless we want to of course, and that’s fine too), we are free to have men, and other women, use our bodies in ways that satisfy us.

I confess that I have a high sexual appetite, (fortunately Master C’s is more than equal to the task of satisfying it) but even though Master C permits and ultimately corrects my promiscuity, it doesn’t mean that I leap into bed, or on to the back seat of a car, or behind some bushes or allow myself to be bent over the kitchen table for just anyone. I can still be choosy and I look after my sexual health but, at the same time I also enjoy the variety (both in terms of situations and partners) and if anyone thinks that what I do is wrong then, well, they are entitled to their opinion but, quite unashamedly, I’m never going to agree with them. Nor for that matter does Master C, who know all about my less than pristine sexual past, and who guides and corrects me in when my slutty nature gets the better of me.

So yes, I am happy to call myself a slut; Master C‘s slut, as I have already affirmed, but still a slut.  I am a slut who enjoys sex and enjoys satisfying my desires and appetites and I am always open to discovering new experiences. I also enjoy submitting to Master C and accepting the guidance and instruction he gives me, while accepting the punishment he applies as a consequence of the freedoms he allows me.

I’m not sure if all of this makes me a ‘dictionary definition’ slut or a ‘my definition’ slut or just someone who gets a lot of enjoyment out of sex in all its myriad of pleasurable forms and, to be perfectly honest, it’s not something I’m going to lose any sleep pondering over (although I do miss out on a fair bit of sleep participating).

Casual fucks and infidelities


When it comes to casual sex, the relationship status of the person I’m fucking has never been a concern of mine. Singles, committeds, engageds, marrieds; I’ve fucked them all with a totally clear conscience. At the end of the day, the reason I indulge in casual sex is that I enjoy having sex. I’m not looking for a relationship, I already have a fully rewarding one with Master C; I’m simply looking for sex. If the person I’m having sex with is already in a relationship, how they justify their actions is up to them; I’m not going to judge them on their unfaithfulness, although I may judge them on how good or bad the sex turns out to be.

As I see it, if some guy would rather spend an hour, or an evening, sticking his cock in my holes rather than those of his partner/girlfriend/wife, then that is wholly and entirely up to them; I don’t need to know about it. I don’t need to know how the spark has gone out of their relationship, I don’t need to know if their partner understands them or not, I definitely don’t need to know how guilty cheating on their partner makes them feel; if that’s the case, why the fuck are you cheating on them. No, all I want is a fuck. That’s all I’m there for. Hopefully it’ll be a good fuck, possibly even a memorable fuck, but if not, if nothing else, at least it was a fuck.

Do I feel any responsibility for leading these people astray? The simple answer is no. It’s not as if I have ever forced anyone to fuck me. OK, so I flirt; I make it known that I’m available, but after that, it’s up to them.

Everyone who has ever cheated on a partner has, at some point, made the decision to cheat on their significant other. They can rationalise and justify it any way they choose, but in the end, the responsibility for deciding to cheat rests with the cheater.

At worst, I am an enabler; I am an outlet for their infidelity, but I am not responsible for it, all they had to do was say “no” to my advances. I can accept refusal with as much grace as I do acceptance. After all, if one prospective partner says “no”, the chances are there will be other potential options.

I realise that this post is sounding preachier than I intended; it’s not meant to be preachy at all. As I said at the beginning, I don’t judge. I accept that other people, regardless of their relationship status, enjoy the thrill of a random, casual sexual encounter as much as I do; and if they choose to enjoy said encounter with me (and I always do my best to make sure they do enjoy it), then that’s really a win-win for me.

In fact, there’s really only one reason for establishing the relationship status of someone I fuck, and that’s because it has an impact on the number of lashes of Master C’s belt that I receive as a result of being unable to control my sluttiness.

Three isn’t always a crowd


I’m not a mathematician, which is probably why I’ve never understood the concept that two into one doesn’t go.  In my experience, two go into one very nicely indeed, especially when the one in question is me.

Yes, I am, of course, talking about threesomes.

I had my first threesome when I was 18. Some time during the long summer break between leaving school and starting university. It involved “The Girl”, which, given all the things we got up to together in those days, and still do to this day, was almost inevitable, I guess.

The guy that she was “seeing” at the time had (apparently half-jokingly) suggested that he would be up for a threesome with her and her “hot ginger pal”.

Rather than being offended, “The Girl” had let it be known that the idea definitely appealed to her.

Knowing her as well as I did, I wasn’t shocked when she suggested it and, I’ll admit, I was more than a little curious. Later, as I had my head between her thighs and was feasting eagerly on her cunt, she clinched it for me by saying, “Just imagine what it would feel like to have a nice, big cock in you right now…”

And I did just that, imagine, albeit with my fingers pumping my cunt as I ate her out, and I came hard, trying to imagine my fingers being replaced by a nice, thick, juicy cock.

When the time finally came, I was nervous but as excited as hell.  After all, I reasoned to myself, I knew what a  cock feels like and I knew what “The Girl’s” cunt tastes like and I was simply going to be enjoying the best of both.

It’s fair to say I wasn’t disappointed (the fact that the guy in question, whom I shall call Gary, was generally proportioned was simply an added bonus).

Being fucked hard from behind by Gary, the force of his thrusts forcing my mouth against “The Girl’s” cunt was a huge turn on.  Having her beneath me, tonguing my clit as he fucked my cunt and arse was simply the most wonderful feeling I’d ever experienced. Licking “The Girl’s” clit and tasting her juices on his cock as Gary pounded her added a whole new level of sensation to something I’d done may times before.

All in all, it was the most intense and enjoyable sexual experience of my life up to that point and remains one of my most pleasant memories for when I’m indulging in a little me time.

The evening was a blur of three naked bodies, licking, sucking, fucking and coming together in all the ways three people can.  Gary fucked “The Girl” and me over and over.  We sucked his cock, rode his face and, in between loads, entertained him with our own special girl-on-girl shows while we waited for him to get hard again.  It was an experience “The Girl” and I were to enjoy a number of times over that summer, both with Gary and with a few other guys.

Of course, being a cock-hungry little slut like me, and having enjoyed the attention of a man and another woman, it was only ever going to be a matter of time before I experienced the sensation of being fucked by two cocks at the same time.

It was during Fresher’s Week. I’d had a few drinks and I was flirting outrageously with two guys. They were both pretty hot, a lot of fun and, more importantly, both seemed to be into me.  It sounds big-headed, but I knew I could have left with either one of them that night. The problem was, that in my less than sober, and extremely randy state, I really couldn’t choose between them. Ultimately, as it turned out, I ended up leaving with both of them and, funnily enough, neither of them seemed particularly put out that they weren’t getting me to themselves.

On the short walk back to their flat (it turned out they shared), I was, again, as nervous as hell but turned-on way above simply being aroused. I was in a state of wet-knickered anticipation and I just couldn’t wait for the two guys to give me a proper seeing-to..

When we got to their flat, I accepted some wine and proceeded to slowly strip for them.  I started things off by taking it in turns to suck their cocks. Before long, one of them was behind me, eating my cunt as I sucked on his friend’s cock.

I came, hard, very quickly, and one of the guys took this as his cue to up the ante and, before I could catch my breath or bring myself back under any sort of control, I found myself being spit-roasted; one cock in my cunt, another in my mouth and I was loving every second of it.

They took it in turns, fucking my cunt and fucking my mouth.  I fingered my clit furiously as they abused me. It was the dirtiest thing I’d ever done (for now, dirtier was to come later that evening) and I brought myself off several times as they attended to me.

Of course, my cunt wasn’t the only hole that saw attention from them, my arse took its fair share of poundings from both cocks.  Actually, I probably enjoyed that even more. Having my arse fucked as I sucked on a big fat cock really made me feel like a dirty slut and I loved every second of it.

It goes without saying that I insisted on condoms being worn whenever they were fucking my cunt and arse.  As a result, I ended up with quite a few loads of cum down my throat and sprayed over my boobs and face.  For me this just heightened the experience. Even at that tender (and by that stage of the proceedings I was decidedly tender) age , I’d discovered the joys of having cum dumped over me and the two cocks that were servicing me certainly produced enough to keep me more than happy.

With both of my holes stretched and tender, and with their cocks almost exhausted from the fucking and sucking the guys decided it was time for my grand finalé.  One of them  lay on his back, and I quickly straddled him, taking his cock in my cunt. A few seconds later, the other took position behind me and worked his cock into my arse.  It was sore, my arse was tender, my cunt was raw, but I loved every second of it.  I think the only thing that could possibly have made it even better would have been if I’d had a third cock to suck on (I told you I was a greedy slut) as they pounded my holes mercilessly.

It was fabulously filthy, deliciously dirty, supremely slutty.  I was being fucked like a filthy, cock hungry slut, a cock pounding at both holes.  I had never experienced anything like it before.  I knew what it felt like to have a cock in my cunt, I knew what it felt like to have a cock in my arse, from that, I’d tried to imagine what it would be like to have both at the same time, but my imagination had failed totally to come up with anything like the reality.

Of course, my ‘essay’ into the joys of three in a bed sex wouldn’t be complete without the possibility of some three girl action, and I suspect, for some readers, this is what they’ve actually been waiting for (go on, admit it…).

There’s something particularly nice about feasting on another girl’s cunt as you are having yours eaten out.  OK, so a 69 fits this bill, but bringing in an extra friend adds a little spice to things. Having separate mouths sucking simultaneously on your boobs while questing fingers bury themselves between your moist lower lips is, in my opinion, an experience to be savoured.  Having two tongues working their way up the insides of my thighs, slowly getting closer to my waiting cunt is a huge turn on.  Having a girl lower her cunt on to your face as another licks and fingers you is, well, mind blowing.

Toys can be employed to heighten the sensations; and then of course, there’s all those boobs… Let’s be honest, what’s not to enjoy?

Just because there are no men involved, doesn’t mean that it’s all girly girly and soft and slushy.  It can be like that, and it’s nice when it is, but it can be just as rough and as vigorous and satisfying, albeit in completely different ways, as it is when there are men around.

So which did I prefer? That’s a hard one.

Well, it probably come as no surprise to anyone that reads this blog that I probably enjoy them about equally, albeit for different reasons.

I’ll be honest, though, of the three scenarios above, the “least” enjoyable for me was the FFF. Much as I do enjoy fucking other woman, a FFF Threesome has one very important ingredient, i.e. cock. Yes, yous can be used, but nothing really comes close to  having a living, pulsing, throbbing cock, being wielded by a man in full-on rut inside you.

MFF allows me to have my cake and eat it, as it were. It indulges both sides of my sexuality at the same time. There is something wonderful about being fucked hard from behind while feasting on another woman’s cunt. The force of his strokes as he fucks me, driving my mouth against her. Or there’s the wonders of being in a 69 with her as his cock ploughs into her cunt, just above my nose, where I can just reach his cock with the tip of my tongue and taste her on his shaft. Then there’s the sharing of his cock with her; taking it in turns to suck him, kissing each other around the tip. The voyeur in me loves to watch the expressions on her face as she rides his cock or sits on his face while his tongue laps at her. And then, well there’s boobs too. Sucking on hers as he fuck or eats her, her sucking on mine as he fucks or eats me. It’s the heavenly combination of her softness and his firmness that really does it for me.

MMF allows me to be the greedy, cock hungry slut that I am. There is simply nothing quite like the experience of being bent over, having my lips wrapped around one deliciously thick cock while another pounds me in the cunt or arse. There’s the wonderful filthy, slutty feeling of having two cocks in me at the same time; filling me, fucking both my arse and cunt in tandem (I admit, this is a relatively new experience for me). And then there’s having two cocks to lick and stroke and suck; two loads of cum to swallow or take over my face, or boobs, or back. Nothing leaves me feeling more thoroughly fucked than having been taken by two men, being a slave to their desires, a selection of holes for them to use and abuse, an affirmation of my status as a filthy little slut.

Of course, the one thing that they all have in common is that unless Master C is one of the participants, they absolutely guarantee me some attention from his belt for being such a naughty little slut. I guess I win either way.

So, as the title says, I discovered that even if three can be a crowd, sometimes it’s a very pleasant crowd to be a part of.