Almost limitless


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apart from those, as I said at the start, anything goes.Food For Thought - #F4Thought

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 cumming hard before finally falling asleep.

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

#MasturbationMonday

The cage


Ever since Master C installed the cage a couple of years ago, it has been a constant source of dread. It is His last recourse of discipline, to be used when a simple thrashing is not sufficient for the transgression that I have committed.

The punishment for those very worst offences is always the same:

Step one: I am thrashed/birched soundly.

Step two: With my hands cuffed behind my back, I am forced to kneel before Master C as He wanks, then cums all over me.

Step three: I am pushed into the cage, the door is locked, the light is switched off, and I am left overnight to contemplate my behaviour.

Step four: At some point the next day, I will be required to apologise, suck His cock through the bars of the cage then, once released, submit myself for another thrashing.

I fear and dread the cage more than anything.  More than simply being thrashed. More than being denied the release of orgasm. I fear it because it denies me a night spent next to Master C, feeling His body against mine, feeling safe wrapped up in His strong yet soft embrace. I fear it because it means I have done something so bad, I have temporarily lost the right to His protection.

And yet, the cage isn’t always bad…

Sometimes, when I’m feeling low after a bad day at work, or a particularly bad bout of PMT, I will retreat to the cage, waiting for Master C to return.  The cage becomes a sanctuary, a place of comfort and security.  When Master C comes home and finds me in my cage, He knows that I’m feeling particularly fragile, that I need His care and reassurance more than anything else. It is my sign to Him that the world is proving too much for me and I need Master C to look after me, to cherish me, to love me.

It is a sign that Master C knows only to well how to interpret. I need Him to be my caring, protecting Dominant. He never fails me.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

The “truth” about size


Having been a member of numerous adult contact sites in the past, and having browsed a few profiles on those same sites, I wasn’t all that surprised when I noticed that a lot of women want the men they meet to be “well hung”. What did surprise me was the number who insist that only men with cocks greater than 8″ (or in some cases the specification was greater than 9″) should bother contacting them.

This got me to wondering just how many “genuine” contacts they get.

It is generally accepted that the average length of the male organ, when erect is approximately 5½-6½”. Now, I know, averages being averages means that there must be a distribution of lengths on either side of that figure. Fair enough, I get that. I’ve had quite a few cocks in my life and some have been longer and some have been shorter but, typically, they’ve all been much of a muchness (thickness, on the other hand…)

Anyway, back to my point. When a woman specifies such a requirement, how does she actually know what she’s getting in advance? OK, there are pictures on these sites (believe me, there are lots of pictures…) but, to be perfectly frank, these don’t actually tell the viewer anything about how long they are.

So, given that the photos aren’t much to go by, unless there’s some frame of reference to give an idea of scale, It does beg the question about how she knows the cock she is going to get meets the required specification.

Do these women insist on documentary evidence?

Do they carry a measuring tape around with them at all times?

If the latter, what happens when they unwrap the aforementioned ‘gift’ and discover it is short by a fraction? Do they just kick him out and dig out their favourite toy instead?

That said, even if the guy does actually measure up, it’s still no guarantee of success. The biggest guy I ever had claimed to be 9″. I took that with a pinch of salt and was right to do so as, in reality, he was probably nearer to 8″ (no, I didn’t measure him, Master C’s cock is the only cock I have measured and that was simply as a bit of a laugh, but with hindsight, the cock of the man in question wasn’t really that much longer than Master C’s, and I know how long 1½” is, and he wasn’t that much longer). The sad thing was, he was probably the crappest shag I’ve ever had. He was so impressed with his size (and naturally assumed I would be too), that his technique was sadly deficient. 10/10 for content, certainly, but only 2/10 for application.

Now, the simple biological fact is that the most sensitive part of a woman’s vagina is in the first 3½” – 4″ so, as long as your cock is at least that long, you’re probably going to be stimulating all the right nerve endings. Anything more than this is simply filling. Don’t get me wrong, I do love to feel full, but I get more pleasure out of feeling stretched. If I’m being totally honest, once a guy is inside me, unless his cock is so long that the head of it is continually banging against my cervix (not a sensation I enjoy, believe me) then I haven’t really got any idea how long or short his cock is.

And, the thing is, guys who have (or perceive themselves to have, regardless of whether or not the actually have) do, in my experience at least, tend to try harder to satisfy us women. They tend to be better with their tongues, they tend to touch more, they tend to engage us more in a sensual way than their longer phallused counterparts. My simple rule of thumb, derived from bitter experience, is that the bigger the dick the guy has, the bigger the dick he tends to be. My alleged 9″ guy was so impressed with his cock that he seemed to think I should, I don’t know, swoon in it’s presence or bow down and worship it, or something. He certainly seemed to believe being penetrated by it should provide me with all the pleasure I could possibly want. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.

A big cock doesn’t turn a crap shag into a great one, but it can turn a mediocre one into a towering disappointment.

So, getting back to my original point, why would any woman insist on a particular size given that there is no guarantee of satisfaction? Wouldn’t insistence on ability be more beneficial (if a lot harder to quantify)?

Don’t get me wrong, if a guy has a nice sized cock, and can use it (eg, Master C/”The Other Guy”) then this is great, but if I cant have size and ability, then I will choose ability over size every time. Life is too short to put up with crap sex and if the guy you’re with really knows how to push all your buttons and can fuck you seven shades of senseless, then his cock is quite clearly the ideal size for the job.

#MasturbationMonday

 

A mouthful of man


In my last post, I discussed how much I love wanking . So, inspired by a rather yummy prompt image, today I thought I’d wax lyrical on the subject of another of my favourite activities, sucking cock.

It’ll come as no surprise to anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time that I simply love sucking cock. I can honestly say that I have had more cocks in my mouth than I have had in either my cunt or my arse.

I’ve mentioned before about the sense of control sucking a guy’s cock gives me, but what I love most about it is the knowledge that his pleasure, his orgasm, is entirely down to me.

There is something immensely satisfying about taking a cock from a state of flaccid disinterest, through the stages of arousal to full pulsing hardness, until it erupts sending its hot, thick load down my throat. It gives me a great sense of gratification to know that I alone have done this; that I have given him so much pleasure.

I love licking and kissing every inch. I love taking the swollen head deep into the back of my throat, sometimes allowing myself to chock and gag on it. I love the moans and sighs that the recipient of my talent makes, letting me know how much pleasure I am giving him. I love it when he grabs my hair and pushes his cock deeper into my mouth as he begins to lose control. And I especially love it when he comes, filling my mouth with his manly essence, rewarding me for a job well done.

Sucking any guy’s cock, for me, is all about the pleasure I give him. It’s not entirely selfless however, as I take a deep pleasure of satisfaction from knowing that I am pleasing him, worshipping his cock as a symbol of his masculinity.

And, as Master C’s dutiful submissive slut, it is right that I should praise and, yes, worship my Master’s cock. For me, the most devotional form of worship I can give, is to suck His cock.

#MasturbationMonday

 

The joys of wanking


The relationship I have had with my fingers is the longest sexual relationship I have had. Stretching back over more than half my life, it’s fair to say that no one, not even Master C, has given me as many orgasms as I have myself.

Of course, those first furtive fingerings were very much clandestine affairs, under the covers of my bed, biting my lip so as not to make a sound, not wanting to betray the pleasure I was having. In truth, the need to keep quiet, to not alert my parents or siblings to what I was doing only intensified the sensations, making my orgasms even more powerful, but that didn’t lessen the secret, almost shameful source of my pleasure.

When I bought my first vibrator, I remember rushing home, hoping that the house would be empty so that I could enjoy some time with my new purchase.

As luck would have it, the house was unoccupied; my parents were still at work, my brother was probably off with his mates in some garage, practicing to be the next big rock sensation, and my goody-two shoes (as I thought) sister was probably pouring over her books in the library. Excitedly, I ripped my new toy from its packaging, inserted the batteries and, pausing only to pull the curtains, I threw myself on my bed, hitched up my skirt, yanked off my knickers and set about myself.

The result was almost disappointingly instantaneous. I came almost as soon as the buzzing tip touched my clit. I came, moaning and shaking. In my defence, I was so excited, my anticipation almost certainly contributed to my near instant climax.

That first vibrator wasn’t the quietest I’ve ever had. As a result, it’s use was limited to when the house was empty, but it gave many hours of pleasure before it finally moved to the great sex-shop in the sky.

When my sex life expanded to include other people, I discovered that wanking wasn’t just a solitary pleasure, it could be a shared joy.

The first time I wanked for someone was an awakening. I’d gone back to my boyfriend’s and we took advantage of his parents being out. After I’d sucked him off he put his head between my thighs. His tongue worked its magic on me, taking me deliciously close to a climax. Almost, but not quite. For some reason, on that particular occasion, he couldn’t quite take me over the brink.

When he fucked me, it was as good as it always was but, for some reason, I still couldn’t quite get there. When he came, I was still randy, still bursting with sexual energy. He suggested I finish myself off.

I was nervous. I’d never wanked openly before. It was exciting; having someone there. Knowing he was watching me gave it an added fillip. As it happened, that was all I needed to make that final connection, to drive me over the edge, to come hard and loud as he encouraged me. It really opened my eyes (figuratively that is, they were screwed tightly shut at the time) as to how wanking, far from being a solo, secretive activity could be a fabulously intense shared experience. Wanking, at least when in the presence of a partner, was not something that had to be done in secret, it could be done openly and was a huge turn-on for both the wanker and the watcher.

Which brings me to the present. Master C, like just about every partner I’ve had, loves to watch me wank, and I, being the shameless exhibitionist that I am, love putting on a show for Him. I love the fact that Hetakes so much pleasure from my own. I get off knowing that He is rock hard as I finger my cunt or fuck myself with one of my toys. Sometimes, when I come, He’ll fuck my brains out. At other times, the show I have put on has been too much for Him and He blows a huge load of cum over me; an outcome that, as often as not, triggers yet another climax for me.

Sometimes, however, wanking is still a solitary experience. There are times when I’m randy and Master C isn’t around to give me release I need. Sometimes I will deny myself, enduring the frustration until Master C gets home and can give me a thorough seeing-to. The denial and suppressed frustration makes the sensations when He eventually fucks me even more intense. Most often though, the need proves to be too great and I’ll dig out my toys or use my fingers to bring myself off.

Nowadays, of course, wanking doesn’t need to be confined to my bedroom, nor does it need to be silent. I can wank in the bedroom, or in the shower, or on the sofa, or (weather permitting) I can even wank in the garden and, if I’m feeling really daring, I can wank on public transport. The garden and in public excepted, I can give full voice to my pleasure; moaning, perhaps even screaming as the sensations overwhelm me.

I can use my toys. I can use my fingers. Sometimes I will use a combination of both. Ultimately, the method by which I get myself off is entirely down to my mood (although sometimes suggestions from the “audience” will be considered). Far from being something to be ashamed of, wanking is an activity to enjoy, to relish, to luxuriate in; whether it be strictly for my own pleasure, or for a partner’s “benefit”.

I’ve been a wanker for well over half my life so far, and I intend to be a wanker for a very long time to come.

#MasturbationMonday

Knowing my place


I’ve said it before, and no doubt I will say it again; I am quite unashamedly a cock-loving slut. I love cock, lot’s of cock. I love it in my mouth, I love it in my cunt, I love it in my arse; it doesn’t matter, I will enjoy every lovely inch of cock wherever it is put.

I am, of course, very fortunate. I have a very considerate Master who allows me to satisfy my particular cravings, so long as I am willing to accept the consequences of my actions. I know I will be required to atone for my transgressions. I accept that there is a price to be paid for the pleasure of feeling another man’s cock in me. I know  that the price of my waywardness is to feel the stinging kiss of Master C’s belt on my arse; and it is a price I am willing to pay.

And yet, I know my place. I know the one place where I truly belong. That place is on Master C’s cock.

For all that I enjoy the novelty of being with a new partner. For all that I crave that heady (and indeed, hedonistic) rush that comes with being so turned on, you just want the guy you are with to take you and use you right there, in that instant. For all that I love the excitement of having a stranger’s cock inside me; the one cock I will always crave, the one cock that does the most wonderful things to me, the one cock that I know every inch of, every bump, every ridge, every vein is the cock that belongs to Master C.

Master C’s cock is the one that claims me, completes me and truly satisfies me. Master C’s cock is the one that will make me moan and sigh in ways that no other man will ever hear. Master C’s cock is the one on which I ultimately belong; feeling its oh so achingly familiar length, thickness and hardness inside me.

Yes, I am a slut. Yes I love cock. And yet I still know my place; and that place is on Master C’s cock.

#MasturbationMonday

Relationship evolution


First of all, I was absolutely delighted that my suggestion was what became this week’s #F4TFriday prompt. The only slight drawback to that honour is, of course, that it means I do have to write something for it.

The questions this week cover how relationships evolve and grow over time. My experiences are based primarily around my relationship with Master C and His acceptance and support of my bisexuality and promiscuity; and the fact that His acceptance has allowed me to grow and become confident in who I am and how I live my life, so that I can now accept my appetites and desires. Master C has provided me with a framework that allows me to explore my sexual personality, to feel no shame in my sexual choices because I know that my actions have balancing consequences.

In addition to Master C, there are, of course, my relationships with “The Girl” and “The Other Guy”; both of which add important elements to my life.

Anyway, enough of that, let’s get to my answers, which is the bit of this post you are probably interested in:

Casual sex, dating, friends with benefits, hook-up, one night stand, fuck-buddy; have you ever had one (or more) of these arrangements? What is the difference?
To me, casual sex can involve any and all of the rest, sometimes more than one can be going on at the same time. I’ve certainly had one-nighters while I’ve also had regular fuckbuddies/friends with benefits.

In my opinion, the difference between a hook-up and a one-nighter is that there is an element of planning involved in the former whereas the latter tends to be more spontaneous. A hook-up generally involves two (or more) people actively planning to meet for sex. It may still however, end up being a one-off. What they can have in common is that they are both fun (hopefully) and there is often no expectation of a repeat.

I’ve never really been much of a dater. My “dates” with Master C didn’t start until we’d been fucking each other for over 6 months. I guess that the difference between a date and a hook up is the expectation. The purpose of hook-ups is almost certainly for sex, a successful date may lead to sex but, while that may be the hoped for outcome there is less “inevitably” about it. I guess, and again this is just me, you wouldn’t arrange a hook-up if you didn’t already fancy and want to fuck the other person. You date where you think there’s at least a possibility that you could fancy the other person.

The common theme is, with the possible exception of dating, is that in all of these situations there is no expectation is exclusivity; all parties are free to explore and enjoy other avenues.

What is the most interesting way you ever met a partner?
I’ve been chatted up in bars and clubs and I’ve hooked up with both men and women through online contact sites. The most outrageous come-on was at a bar. I was being served by a very chunky Irish guy and, as he handed me my drink, he asked, “Would you like a fuck with that?” 30 seconds later we were outside in the lane behind the pub and we were going at it like crazed animals. It was quick, it was rough, it was deliciously dirty and, ultimately, very enjoyable, if not actually satisfying. He came in my mouth, we shared a cigarette (I was a casual drunken smoker in those days) and then I went back to my drink and my friends and he went back to work.

Have you ever had a hook-up become a relationship? How do you know that it had happened?
This for me was an interesting one as it describes my relationship with Master C. We started as random shags, became semi-regular fuckbuddies, progressed to regular fuckbuddies, started “dating”, became a couple, moved in together, and I finally formally submitted to him and became his slut and submissive.

For me, as the “relationship” evolved, there was a growing realisation that I actually enjoyed His company as much, if not more than His cock. There was a growing, and scary, realisation that I actually had feelings for Him; that I liked Him and that, just possibly *whispers* I loved Him. Then came the equally staggering discovery that those feelings were reciprocated. That was when my fate was sealed.

Someone once said that it becomes a relationship when the cuddles become more important than the sex. As a self-confessed cuddle slut, I think that’s a pretty fair assessment.

How would you tell a potential partner you want a non-monogamous or D/s relationship? If you are already in one, how did it evolve?
This hasn’t really come up for me. When I was casual, I just fucked whomever I pleased. I wasn’t committed to anyone and I frequently had more than one guy on the go at the same time.

With Master C, given that we started out as casual, the fact I was fucking other men and women and he was fucking other women wasn’t an issue. By the time we became a couple, Master C was already fully aware that I am an insatiable slut. It was this, probably more than anything else, that led to the D/s dynamic that we now have.  I was free to fuck whom I wanted, but I had to accept the consequences. The fact that, in our dynamic, I am required to recount my transgressions, give an honest self-appraisal of how bad I have been and the possible sanction that my action requires has helped me learn a lot about my desires and needs and how it is appropriate to accommodate them.

If you relationship is poly, what is its principal dynamic? Do you have a primary? A few fuck buddies? Is everyone equal? Does everyone know?
I guess, in the broadest sense of the term, I am in a non-monogamous relationship, one where Master C is my “primary” and both “The Girl” and “The Other Guy” are my “secondaries” and I am also free to enjoy random encounters outside of these. The fact that it’s all out in the open and everyone is happy and I get to enjoy both sides of my sexuality makes it very satisfying.

There’s a certain amount of irony to the fact that while I’ve involved been involved in both MMF and MFF threesome with Master C and “The Girl” individually, I’ve never had a threesome that has involved more than one of my “regular partners” at the same time. Would we ever play as a threesome or possibly even foursome? The honest answer is, I don’t know. The closest we’ve ever come to doing anything like this so far was the drunken cam show “The Girl” and I put on for Master C during our recent girly spa weekend that I told you about last week. It’s something that I have talked about with each of the parties, working out the possible permutations but, while it’s not off the cards entirely, it remains, for now, at least, it’s just a particularly pleasant fantasy that I can call upon in my “alone time”.

What does your ideal relationship look like? Are you already in it?
I suspect, I’ve already found mine. A loving, supportive, and downright deviant Dominant in Master C, who allows me to fuck whomever I wish so long as I am prepared to accept the consequences of my actions,  a very willing girlfriend in the form of “The Girl” and I also have “The Other Guy” for when Master C  isn’t available and I want something more meaningful than a random fuck.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

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

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