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.

 

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Rough

I may be an incorrigible little slut, but I’m still a woman and I like a little romance and tender, loving sex every bit as much as any woman. Sometimes though, I want, no, I need it rough, I need it hard; I require to be taken with a certain primal, almost animal intensity.

When I’m in this mood there’s only one hole for the job; my arsehole. Now, not everyone will agree, but for me, when I want it rough and hard and filthy, my arse is the hole I want it in.

It’s the discomfort, it’s the filthiness of it, it’s the whole “nice girls don’t take it up the bum” thing that makes anal sex so suited to a hard, merciless fucking.

It’s the way Master C pulls my hair, the way He calls me His filthy little slut as His cock is driven into my tight rear hole; stretching it, abusing it, hurting it. It’s the way His fingers grip into me, almost bruising my skin as He fucks me with long, hard strokes; His balls slapping against the lips of my cunt as He pounds my arse.

It’s dirty, it’s hard, it’s so deliciously slutty; and when He cums, when Master C pulls out and fires a thick load of warm, sticky cum up my back, calling me a dirty whore as He marks me with His seed, I feel a sense of satisfaction at having received the rough, hard fuck I so badly needed.

 

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.

 

Discarding my virginity

Let us be very clear, I did not lose my virginity; that has always implied a certain carelessness to me, and there was nothing careless about my first time. No, my first time was very much deliberate; I actively discarded my virginity.

As I’ve mentioned before, I did it for the first time a couple of weeks after my 15^th birthday. There was no real significance to the timing; I didn’t deliberately wait until I turned 15, it’s simply that this was the first opportunity that presented itself. My boyfriend at the time and I already had a pretty active sex life and had had so for several months; the only thing absent from that sex life was actual penetrative sex. It was an omission I became increasingly keen to rectify.

It wasn’t that I felt under any pressure to get rid of my virginity, although a couple of my friends had already dispensed with theirs, it was simply that I wanted to experience it. I knew what it felt like to have a vibrator up me, I knew what it felt like to have my fingers up me, I even knew what it felt like to have someone else’s fingers up me, having experienced that from my boyfriend and my best girl friend, but I wanted to feel his cock (or, if I’m being completely honest, any cock) inside me. I knew what it felt like in my mouth, but in the same way that sucking your thumb feels nothing like sucking a cock, I imagined that being fucked by his cock would feel nothing being fucked by my, or his fingers.

The opportunity arose because on that particular Saturday both his parents were at work, and we would have his house to ourselves.

It all started of in what had become a familiar pattern; lying on his bed, kissing and cuddling, with quite a lot of groping and fondling. At a certain point, he got my top off and started lavishing attention on my boobs. Thereafter, I proceeded to suck him off, being rewarded with a lovely thick load of cum, which I hungrily swallowed down.

Pausing only to catch his breath, and to get me out of my jeans and knickers, he went down on me and ate me to a couple of shuddering climaxes that were intensified, in part, by the anticipation of what would happen next.

As my cunt spasmed around his fingers and my clit thronged in response to his tongue, I asked him if he was hard again. When he informed me that he was, I responded by saying, “Good, because I want your cock inside me.” The wolfish smile he gave me in return was almost enough to make me come again.

As he positioned himself above me, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it woulld feel like. I had a pretty good idea that images of cascading waterfalls and fireworks were a load of guff; I’d had enough orgasms without experiencing such imagery to know that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded and felt myself growing even moister as the head of his cock pressed against me. He slid into me slowly but easily. It was obvious he was enjoying feeling his cock being engulfed by my cunt as much as I was enjoying the sensation of him slowly filling me.

It felt good, I felt wonderfully, deliciously full. His cock was so much thicker and fuller than anything that I had ever had up me before. I had expected it to hurt and was pleasantly surprised that it didn’t; just a slight discomfort and a lovely feeling of being stretched and filled.

As he moved inside me, slowly at first, but with steadily increasing pace, I opened my eyes and saw him smiling down at me. “Harder,” I said, “You can go a bit harder.”

He picked up the pace, pulling out and thrusting in, his body colliding with mine, slamming against me with every stroke.

Suddenly, his face contorted, his body went stiff. He groaned: “Shit! Fuck! Morag! Fuck!” (or something equally as coherent and eloquent) as his cock erupted inside me. I felt the warmth of his cum inside me as he slumped on top of me. As his cock slipped out of my cunt and I felt his cum trickle out of me.

I didn’t come; I didn’t care. I had been fucked and it had been good. The second time we did it, later that afternoon was better still. Practice, as they say, makes perfect, and while we never achieved perfection in the time that we were together, the sex continued to get better and increasingly satisfying.

All in all, it’s fair to say, I enjoyed my first time.

Rub it in

I’m lying on my back, Master C standing over me, looking down at me, stroking His lovely thick cock in one hand. I know what’s going to happen next and, sure enough, moments later, thick, hot wads of warm, sticky cum splash over my boobs.

It’s something I love; the sensation of cum on my skin. That initial wet heat as it splashes against me, the sensation as it trickles over me. The way it feels as it cools and dries. It’s just all so fantastically filthy.

Not that it got the chance to dry.

No sooner had Master C disgorged all over me when He proceeded to bury His face between my thighs and, reaching up, began rubbing His cum into my boobs as He nibbled and licked my clit and labia.

This is one of may favourite things. Don’t ask my why. I love getting my boobs played with, I have a thing for cum, and I definitely have a thing for cunnilingus, so I guess the combination of all three just overloads my brain’s pleasure centres. Whatever the reason, it generally has me coming in virtually no time flat and this occasion was no exception.

Deliciously dirty and overwhelmingly orgasmic; what more could a wanton slut possibly ask for?  According to Master C, it’s good at preventing or, at the very least, reducing wrinkles. I remain to be convinced on this point, but so long as He is happy to keep “moisturising” me in this fashion, I’ll live with the results…

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.

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.

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.

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…

Waiting

I am on my knees; head downcast, naked, blindfolded, my hands tied securely behind my back. Helpless. Bound. At His mercy.

He has me exactly where, and how, He wants me. I can do nothing but wait for Him to use me as He desires.

The anticipation burns as I wait for Him. I endure His scrutiny; feeling His eyes on me as He slowly walks around me; occasionally filling my ears with the loud snapping crack of His belt.

He examines me. Although I cannot see Him, I can sense how He views me. I yearn for His touch. I hunger for His command; eager to obey His slightest whim.

His silence is agonising. My cunt is hot and wet. I long for Him to acknowledge me, to give me some indication of His desire, His need.

I wait in silence; enduring each second as it ticks by. My legs begin to cramp in the uncomfortable position of my submission to Him.

I wait in silence, as the sound of leather cracking against leather fills my senses.

Discomfort wars with anticipation, pain with arousal. What is His will? What does He require of me?

A shiver runs through me as the belt coils around my neck. It presses my skin as He pulls it tight.

A sharp tug forces me to raise my head.

I become aware of His breathing; rapid, laboured. I can almost feel His pre-climactic tension. Apart from His breathing and the rhythmic beat of His hand stroking His cock, there is silence.

He groans.

His cum strikes my face like a blow from His hand. Hot, rich, sticky; I feel it trickle down my face, warming my skin as moves.

At last, He speaks. “Open your mouth, little one. Taste your reward.”

I comply. His cock fills my mouth. I tighten my lips around Him and savour the taste of His essence.