Freshly fucked

It’s a feeling I love. I’ve just been fucked, Master C has shot a lovely thick load of cum inside my cunt and then, after He has pulled out, it begins to trickle out of me.

I love the warm, sticky feeling as His cum begins to ooze; a lovely warm reminder of the fuck we’ve had.

It’s especially nice when Master C fucks me in the morning and then, afterwards, I sit at my desk at work, squirming slightly in my seat as His cum dribbles into my knickers, reminding me of the lovely start to my day.

What can I say? I’m a slut that loves cum. You knew that already though…

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Cumslut

So, it was Friday evening, and I’d been having a few drinks to wash away the working week blues. Anyone who knows me will know I have a particularly unScottish inability to drink, so it didn’t take too much to get me fairly drunk. Not rolling drunk, just seriously randily drunk.

Master C, of course, was happy to oblige. Despite it being a Friday, there weren’t too many people about; possibly because it was still fairly early, or possibly, on account of the weather (this is Scotland in March after all). Either way, we used the apparent lack of humanity to our advantage and, almost inevitably, we found ourselves in one of those lanes that have seem many a drunken sexual escape.

Bracing myself in a suitable back-doorway, it wasn’t long before I was being taken hard and fast from behind; Master C’s long, thick cock giving my cunt a delicious pounding.

Rubbing my clit furiously as He fucked me from behind, I surprised myself by how quickly I came, my climax taking me almost completely unawares. I wasn’t complaining though, it felt good; just the release I hadn’t appreciated I’d needed so badly.

Master C wasn’t far behind me, but instead of flooding my cunt with His warm, sticky cum, He spun me around and made me get on my knees. I wasn’t complaining; I’ll happily take His cum in any hole and as I knelt before Him, I opened my mouth wide in expectation.

He didn’t cum in my mouth though; instead Master C let fly, covering my face, neck and the front of my top. Almost instinctively, I raised my hand to my face to gather His cum, but He batted it away. I was puzzled but then I saw a wicked glint in His eye. “Leave it” Master C said, “I want to see you wear it like a badge of shame, I want people to see what a filthy slut you are.”

As his cum dried on my skin, my cunt grew even wetter. The idea that I was about to be humiliated in public was a surprisingly huge thrill.

We walked out of the alley and on to the main street. It wasn’t long before we began encountering people. Most didn’t notice, but some gave me an odd look, and more than a couple actually stared. My cheeks were burning, which probably only served to make the mess on my face even more noticeable, but I didn’t care; with every step, every glance, my cunt was getting wetter and wetter.

If walking down the street wasn’t bad enough, standing at the bus stop was unbearable. There was no way to avoid the gaze of people waiting there. I could see their expressions, I could hear their comments of, “that looks like…” and, ” is that…?” Part of me wanted to disappear, part of me wanted to shout out, proudly, that yes, it was cum on my face, and a lot of me wanted Master C‘s cock inside me again, right there in that bus stop.

The bus driver gave me a long, hard stare, and I was painfully aware of the glances in my direction.

On getting home, I wasn’t allowed to get cleaned up; not that I wanted to wait. Displaying me as His filthy slut had obviously turned Master C on as much as it had turned me on to be displayed. We fucked hard, furiously; my mouth, my cunt, my arse all being claimed by His wonderful cock before He unleashed a second load over me.

I don’t think I have ever felt so filthy, and I loved it. After the strains and stresses of the previous few days, it was just the pick-me-up I needed.

Friday night sofa snuggles

So it’s Friday night, we’re staying in, snuggled on the sofa, me with my head on Master C‘s lap, watching whatever shite is in the TV.

A couple of glasses of wine consumed and I’m feeling a little bit naughty.

I trace the outline of Master C‘s cock through His jeans. He playfully bats my hand away. I try again. His cock is harder now, the outline more defined. Again Master C moves my hand away; this time it’s even less convincing than last.

I try again. I feel His cock stiffen further. Master C wriggles a bit and He rests His hand on my head, his fingers playing with my hair.

I unzip His jeans and slide my fingers inside. His cock, still encased in his boxers, twitches in response to my touches. Master C moans slightly as I slip my fingers inside His shorts. His fingers twist in my hair as I idly stroke His shaft, feeling it stiffen and twitch.

Master C murmurs softly as I tease the head with my fingers, feeling it swell.

I remove my hand and unbuckle His belt, unbuttoned His jeans and release His cock from its confinement. A bead of pre-cum oozes from the slit. Master C shudders as lick it away with my tongue.

I kiss the tip and swirl my tongue head. On the TV a klaxon sounds; someone has got something obviously wrong on QI again. I take this as a sign and wrap my lips around the head. Master C moans more loudly and His fingers tighten even more firmly in my hair.

I slide my lips leisurely up and down His shaft, pausing at the top to tease the head. Occasionally I let my teeth drag lightly along His skin, making Him flinch.

As I suck and lick, His hips begin to move, driving His cock deeper into my mouth. His hand exerts a pressure on my head, pushing me harder on to Him.

I cup Master C‘s balls, squeezing them as the head of His cock lodges in the back of my throat. His breathing deepens as the jerking of His hips becomes more pronounced.

His cock twitches with increasing frequency. The flavour of His pre-cum grows stronger. His balls swell in my hand.

I can feel the tension in Him build. His moans become deeper, more prolonged. Master C‘s cock stabs my mouth with short, stabbing thrusts.

His fingers tighten in my hair. Once… Twice… Three times… His sign, telling me that He is on the brink.

I slide my mouth back, wrapping my lips tightly around Him, only the head of His wonderful, throbbing cock in my mouth. I encircle Master C‘s shaft with my fingers, stroking Him as I suck.

A moan, a spasmodic jerk and Master C‘s cock erupts. My mouth fills with cum; rich, warm and salty. I savour the taste before swallowing it down. His torrent slows to a trickle; the last drops pool on my tongue.

His cock subsides, His breathing returns to normal, His hand releases my hair and rests lightly on my head as He tells me I am His “Good Girl”.

As I tuck Master C away, the weather forecast says it’s going to be miserable. All the more reason for us to stay in bed…

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…

Give and take – Oral sex

When done right, oral sex is bloody amazing. I like to receive and I like to give. Being bisexual is an added bonus because I am every bit as happy when I am feasting on another woman’s cunt as I am when a man has his cock in my mouth.

Cunnilingus:
I love cunnilingus. And, in all honesty, I love performing it almost as much as I love having it performed on me. Cunnilingus, in my opinion, can make the difference between OK sex and absolutely fucking amazing sex. And here’s a little factoid for you; men can be every bit as good at it as us women.

Most men can fuck with an adequate level of proficiency, and some of us women are fortunate that we can cum simply through being fucked. Let’s be honest though, penises are pretty good at doing what they are designed to do; the fit nicely inside those bits of us that can accommodate them, they feel good when they are used with a certain proficiency, but they are not the most flexible of organs (especially when in fucking mode). Mouths, lips and tongues however, we’ll that is a whole other matter.

For me, as with almost everything sex related, the build up is just as important as the act itself. I can be driven wild by those teasing kisses to the insides of my thighs; those touches that get tantalisingly close before pulling away. For anyone going down on me, getting that bit right will pretty much have me eating out of your hand.

When his (or her) tongue finally slips between my labia, I want my partner to feast on me, to enjoy it, to luxuriate in it. Good cunnilingus doesn’t need to be a marathon, but it should (almost) never be a sprint. To keep with the sporting metaphor, think of it like a 10k, or at the very least a 5k. In some instances, I’ll even be content with the 1,500m, but I am almost certainly not going to get there if you’re going to do the equivalent of trying to beat Ussain Bolt (now that’s a whole other fantasy in itself).

When someone is going down on me, ideally I want them to be concentrating on nothing else. It’s not some precursor to the main event, it’s as much an event in its own right as intercourse is and; sometimes, for some of us girls, it can actually be our favourite event.

Don’t get me wrong, I love fucking, and I love being fucked, but being expertly eaten out can take me to a completely different levels.

So, and this may be a gross generalisation, if you want to give a girl an amazing sexual experience, learn to (tr)eat her properly.

Fellatio:
The flip-side of this is that I am, quite unashamedly, a cocksucker. I’ve been sucking cocks for over twenty years, and I actually shudder to think about how many penises have been in my mouth during that time. I’m not avoiding the actual number because I’m ashamed of it in any way, I genuinely can’t remember how many different cocks I have sucked. I know for a fact that I’ve sucked more guys off than I have actually fucked, but that’s as much as I can tell you.

I truly love the feeling of having a cock in my mouth. Despite being utterly submissive, I love the control it gives me over the guy whose cock I am sucking. I love the way it drives him wild. I love the way that my lips and tongue makes him lose control. I love the feelings of those final few seconds before he cums when his cock swells and twitches in his mouth. Most of all, I love it when he erupts and floods my mouth with his hot, thick load.

Since the very first blow-job I ever have, I have been a swallower. For me, that rich, warm mouthful of male essence is my reward for my efforts. It’s not my favourite flavour, I will freely admit, although if he takes care of his diet and doesn’t smoke it can be not too unpleasant, but I love the feeling of it in my mouth. I love its heat, I love its texture, I love the feeling of it sliding down my throat.

Of course, not all blow-jobs end this way. Sometimes they are simply a preliminary part of the proceedings. Even when I do make him cum, sometimes his load ends up over me and not inside me. While I love the feeling of a man’s cum in my skin, and I certainly have no objection to wherever a man decides to unload, the greatest compliment to my cock-sucking skills that any man can pay me is when he gives me a lovely mouthful of thick, warm, rich cum to savour before I swallow it hungrily down.

So, ultimately, what does all this tell you about me? Give or receive, lick or suck, this greedy little slut is definitely down for oral.

 

 

For the love of cock

I love cock. Since my very first encounter with the male organ over 20 years ago, I have been endlessly fascinated by them. The come in all shapes and sizes and, big ones, smaller ones, thick ones, thin ones, I’ve pretty much had them all and loved every one of them.

There is something endlessly fascinating, almost hypnotic about watching those few inches of man unfurling themselves from a slightly comical, soft, wrinkled, flaccid state; transforming into a proud, hard, raging erection that will give me so much pleasure. A hard-on is, I believe, the most primal compliment a man can pay a woman, and the knowledge that you are responsible for this amazing metamorphosis is greatly flattering.

Of course, the cock isn’t everything. The man maketh the cock and, usually, it is the man I see first, not the cock. There is always a thrill of anticipation the first time you “unwrap” a new cock; that moment when the suggestion, the bulge in his jeans, becomes the reality of a living cock, released for you to enjoy, to explore with your fingers and lips, before it pushes inside you.

It’s fair to say, I’ve never encountered a disappointing cock, although I have been disappointed by the way a cock has been used. I won’t lie, I prefer my cocks to be on the bigger, by which I mean thicker rather than longer, side but I’ll take a smaller cock coupled with the ability to use it over a larger one attached to a guy who is an even bigger one. Ability, not size, is key. Size with ability is a very nice bonus.

The thing with cocks is the way they feel and make me feel. Much as I love the appearance of a lovely hard cock, it’s the way it feels when it is inside me that makes them so great. The way the head fills my mouth when I’m sucking it, the way the shaft fills and stretches my cunt or arse as it plunges deep inside me; these are the things that I love most about cocks.

And then there is the rich, thick eruption of his climax. I absolutely love watching a guy cum. The way the shaft stiffens and twitches, the way his balls contract, the way the head swells and turns a deep, angry purple, and then it erupts. That moment when he can take no more, at his most vulnerable and knowing that you are the cause of it is one of the most erotically satisfying experience.

I realise that this post has nothing at all to do with the prompt subject of “Chemistry”, but from start to finish, in everything they do, I love cock.

Changing room fantasy

This year’s 6 Nations tournament is just around the corner. I have a bit of a thing for rugby players; those big, tall, strapping, muscle-bound guys who play hard and tough and get themselves dirty. Given that, I guess it was almost inevitable that at least one of my men, namely “The Other Guy” would be one.

Now, I have a bit of a recurring fantasy that has me servicing “The Other Guy” and his team-mates after a game; either in celebration or as a consolation,  I’m never entirely sure, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

It starts with me being smuggled into the team’s changing room during the closing stages of the game. “The Other Guy” orders me to strip, then blindfolds me before tying my hands to the bench so that I can’t escape (not that I would want to).  He leaves to rejoin those players on the bench, and I am left alone, naked, blindfolded and in the dark, just waiting for what is to come.

I can hear a clock tick. As each second passes, my anticipation builds.  My cunt grows wet. I squirm on the uncomfortable slatted wooden bench below me.  Each tick of the clock is an increasing agony of arousal.

Finally I can hear voices approaching. I freeze as the door squeaks open.

“Fucking hell guys! What’ve we got here? Come and take a look at this!” I hear someone call out.

I sense the room fill with strong male bodies.  The air is filled with appreciative whistles and suggestive comments. A coarse hand cups my cunt, a thick finger parts my lower lips, feeling how wet I am.  “This little slut’s gagging for it guys!”

My restraints are untied and I’m led to treatment table in the middle of the room. Hands grope me, squeezing and mauling my boobs, my arse; fingers invade my cunt.

What follows is almost indescribable. Cocks are thrust in my mouth, plunged deep into my cunt, rammed in my arse. I’m spit-roasted, DPed, made airtight as the guys all take it in turns to make use of my holes.

The fact that I can’t see who is doing what to me, I have no way of knowing what is going to happen next adds to the naughtiness of the situation. I am completely at the mercy of “The Other Guy” and his team-mates. They could (and do) do whatever they like to me. I am nothing but a slut to be used and demeaned by them, and I love every second, every grope, every flick of a tongue, every thrust of a cock. It is just be being used by an unseen, unknown number of men and I am in my element as they use me.

By common consent they agree not to cum inside me. Instead load after load of hot sticky cum is shot over me; coating my buttocks, my back, my boobs, my face.  Occasionally someone shoots a load in my mouth and I swallow it down hungrily.

At some point I hear a couple of the guys encouraging a team-mate. “C’mon Davy,” they urge, “We know you’re gay but just pretend she’s a guy with boobs and fuck her up the arse.” Whether he does or not, I’ll never know but the next cock to fill my battered and sore arsehole feels thicker and longer than some of those that had proceeded it and in my mind it’s Davy fucking me, pretending I’m a guy, fucking my arse the same way he would his boyfriend’s.

The abuse goes on for what seems like an eternity. Cock after lovely thick, hard cock fills me. Load upon rich, sticky load is dumped over me. My jaw aches, my cunt is tender, my arse is raw, my boobs feel bruised from the groping and squeezing.

Slowly, one by one, they shower and dress and leave, leaving me cum-drenched, sore but intensely satisfied.

I feel a hand undo my blindfold. It pulls the cum drenched material that has become stuck to my face away.  I look around.  There’s no one left but “The Other Guy” and me.  He smiles at me as he pumps his cock in front of my face. “I hope you’ve had fun, you filthy little slut!” he says as his cock erupts, spewing a final load other my face before making his way to the shower.

As he returns, I find the energy to stand.  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he demands as I head towards the showers.

“Can’t I…?”

“No!”

He throws my coat at me. “Cover yourself up slut!” he demands.

I do as I’m bid.  My coat barely reaches below my cunt. I feel exposed, demeaned, degraded.  I love it.

I clean my face up and straighten my hair as much as is possible with my fingers, before he grips my elbow and leads me from the changing room to the club bar.

As I stand at the bar, sipping my drink, my arse barely covered by my coat, the eyes of all the guys who fucked me, and those of the opposing team are upon me.

I flush when I hear myself being discussed.

“She’s a total slut!”

“She took three cocks at once.”

“I had her in every hole.”

“The little slut loved every second.”

And the truth is, I did. Every filthy fucking second on it.

The first submission

It was a ceremony of sorts; a symbol of trust and acceptance. A sign of my submission to Him.

As He sat, I stood before him, eyes downcast. Slowly I undressed, the removal of each item an acceptance of His claim over me.

Finally I stood, naked, offering myself to Him. Presenting myself to His scrutiny. He told me to turn around. I complied, letting Him study me, showing him the prize that was his.

“Kneel!” Master C demanded, ” You know what to do.”

I did as I was bid. I unbuckled His belt, unbuttoned and unzipped His jeans, reached inside His boxers and released His cock from its confinement.

I took His cock in my mouth, paying homage to it with my lips and tongue. I was determined to show Master C how diligent I could be in the performance of my duties. My mouth’s purpose was to please Him and I yearned to do my best.

As my service to Him brought Him to the point of no return, He pushed me from him. “Have I displeased you?” I asked.

“No, not at all,” Master C replied, “I intend to mark you.”

He stroked his cock, His hand almost a blur. “I am claiming you, Morag,” he groaned, “I am marking you as mine. From this moment on, you are MY slut.”

His cock errupted. His cum sprayed over my face, it trickled down my neck, dribbling on to my boobs.

“Give me Your belt,” I asked in a small voice, His cum drying on my skin. He gave me an enquiring look. “Pass me Your belt Sir, it’s important,” I urged.

Master C slipped His belt from its stays and passed it to me. I accepted it and adopted a position of supplication, on my knees, my head bowed, my hands raised with His belt draped over them.

“I submit to You,” I said, “I submit to You and accept Your domination. I offer You this belt to use for my instruction and correction. I will accept Your discipline as You see fit to dispense it.”

Master C took the belt from my hands. I turned around as He folded it and cracked it sharply together.

I waited. The anticipation built. I heard the belt swish through the air. With a resounding smack, His leather kissed my arse. He became my  Master and He made me His…

The look on His face

I love watching his facial expressions as Master C approaches, then reaches, the point of climax.

Now, depending on the position I’m in when Master C is fucking me, I don’t always get to see His “cum face”, but when I do, I love watching that juxtaposition of pain, pleasure, tension and, finally, release as He unloads His cum inside me or over me.

When you’ve been in a relationship for a while, you become attuned to your partner’s sexual responses: those little noises, the involuntary flinches, the intakes of breath, the changes in expression. We all have our sexual tics and tells, the little giveaways that indicate our state of arousal.

As a poly couple, sometimes, assuming I’m not too engrossed in my own activities, and sometimes even when I am, I get to watch Master C enjoying another woman. That deeply intimate knowledge of Him means that with just a single glance, I can tell by His face; the tightness of His jaw, the tension on His forehead, the lines around His eyes, just when He is about to cum. Sometimes in these situations, just knowing that Master C is there, helpless in the throes of His impending orgasm as the other woman sucks His cock, or as He fucks her, is all that it takes to trigger my own response. Indeed, even when we are on our own and I’m sucking hungrily on His cock or stroking it with my hands, those little signs are all that are needed for me to match my orgasm to His.

Most of all, however, I love that final grimace just before Master C erupts, and knowing that I am the cause of it. I love knowing that, in that moment of exquisite agony, I, His loving and devoted submissive, have caused Him  to lose control. In that one instant Master C, who usually is so strong and assured and so full of self-control, is every bit as vulnerable as everyone else is at the point of orgasm; helpless, driven, unable to resist.

There is, however, one thing that I love even more. As His cum floods my cunt, or fills my mouth, or splashes over my skin, the tension is released, the angry beast has, once more, been tamed, and His face takes on that post-orgasmic, wearily contented smile; the smile that reassures me that I have pleased Him, that I have given Him the relief that He needed so badly.

Yes, I love watching His face as Master C cums.

The one where Morag gets herself Royally Fucked!

So, as I mentioned last night, I was under explicit instructions from Master C to “enjoy myself”. Suffice to say, I most very certainly did.

I won’t bore you with the earlier part of the evening, it was just your fairly typical girl’s night out; drinking, dancing, outrageous flirting and discussions about our live/sex lives and gossip about who is fucking who. It’s what we girls do.

OK, so the outrageous flirting is kind of peripheral to the main event of this post, but I’ll cut to the chase.

The evening proceeded in the way such evenings do and, at some point towards the end of the night, I found myself behind the club, sucking on a nice thick cock.  I will freely admit that this is not an uncommon occurrence when I go out drinking.

What I hadn’t counted on was the fact that at some point during the proceedings, he would text his friend to come see what he was doing.

With hindsight, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised at this turn of events, if anything, I guess, I should be more surprised that it hasn’t happened before.

Needless to say, after servicing the first guy, I barely had time to lick my lips and catch my breath before I found myself sucking his friend’s cock too.

If I was randy at the start of the evening, by the time the second guy had pumped his load down my throat, I was ready for anything. While I’m not averse to fucking in dark lanes, I’d already spent enough time on my knees on a cold pavement and, well, if a girl is going to get herself double-teamed, she might as well do it somewhere where the participants can take the time to do it properly. Suffice to say, this slut ended up going back to a flat with them (texting the address of where I was to Master C for safety reasons), and that’s where the fun really began.

I’m not a stranger to threesomes, but it’s been a while since I last participated in one. There is something particularly cunt-drenchingly hot about having your body explored by two pairs of hands, being kissed by two sets of lips. If either of them noticed the dried in cum coating my boobs, they never mentioned it as they kissed, licked, sucked and fingered me.

What happened for the next couple of hours is a bit of a blur. I was groped, fondled, licked and fucked extensively. There is something so deliciously satisfying about sucking on one lovely thick cock while another equally delicious cock is pounding you hard from behind. What made it hotter still was that they changed places frequently, letting me taste myself on the cock in my mouth.

The names they called me as they fucked me made it better still. “Dirty slut!” or “Filthy whore!” or “Cock hungry little bitch!” In truth, I was all of those as they fucked me, used me, took their pleasure from me. And I loved every thrust, every lick, every slap, every tug of my hair, every load of cum that they dispensed.

By the time we had finished, Master C’s load was only one of several that I was wearing. Before I left them, I had had cum on my face, cum on my boobs, cum on my belly, cum on my back, cum on my arse, cum pretty much everywhere. I was pretty much a walking mess of cum with a decidedly sore jaw and an extremely well fucked cunt.

Retiring to the bathroom, I sent Master C a photo of my cum coated face and another of my very tender cunt. And I felt a warm glow when His reply, “Good little slut!” came through.

I was still buzzing when I got home. Reluctantly washing the dried in cum from my body in the shower only served to get my clit tingling again and, having finally crawled into bed, I used my fingers to treat myself to one last climax before sleep. I was so exhausted that I didn’t even notice when Master C got home and climbed into bed beside me.

Writing this has got me a wee bit worked up. My cunt is drenched again, partially from reliving the events of last night, but mostly in anticipation of the thrashing Master C is going to give me for being such a dirty slut. He decided to take pity on his worn out slut and let me sleep, but did warn me when He left for work this morning that “sleeping on the job” would require some additional punishment when He gets home at lunchtime.

I think it’s fair to say that I’ve earned every single lash of the belt that Master C decides to inflict on me. I hope He gets home soon…