Getting fucked

I can’t say that I’ve ever thought of fucking as a kink; it’s really just something that I do (or have done to me) and that I enjoy, A LOT! Over a period of 30+ years, since that very first time when I purposely discarded my virginity, right up to the one I had this morning, getting fucked is something that I relish.

I can’t tell you how many cocks I’ve had inside me (I could probably work it out but really, who is interested?) and I certainly don’t remember every time I’ve been fucked (although there have been some truly memorable fucks as well as those that have been long forgotten), but even where the actual fuck may not have been what I’d hoped for, or needed, I’m pretty certain the circumstances of the fuck, the anticipation, the build up, the moment of first penetration meant that none of them were entirely unenjoyable; from the drunken, late night, back-alley fumbled quickie, all the way through to the most prolonged and protracted, climax filled, weekend long fuckfest (possibly with multiple partners), fucking is simply something that I cannot get enough of.

Cocks, come in all shapes and sizes, and the range of skill with which they are used has almost infinite variety. The same cock can feel completely different depending on the circumstances in which it finds itself in me, depending on the kind of fuck that it is giving me, depending on which hole it is fucking.

And that’s the thing, it’s not just my cunt or my arse that I let get fucked; my mouth/throat are just as receptive to being roughly taken by a cock, of being used, of being taken and filled by a cock repeatedly thrusting into it. When a man grabs my head and roughly fucks my mouth, it is every bit as intense, every bit as rewarding as when he garbs my hips and drives his cock deep into my cunt or my arse. I readily and happily accept that all my holes are available for fucking, whether it be one cock fucking each in turn, or multiple cocks fucking me simultaneously.

The simple truth is, there are very few things in life that give me as much pleasure and sense of self-fulfilment as a fucking good fucking.

Getting to the bottom of things

Yes, this is a post about anal sex. Now, I think it’s fair to say that women generally fall into one of three camps when it comes to anal sex:

• Those that have never tried it.
• Those who have tried it and don’t like it.
• Those who have tried it and enjoy it.

I am thoroughly in the third group. The reason for this being that I’m fortunate to have a partner who knows how to do it right. Having said that, It may come as a bit of a surprise to you, especially given how much I enjoy it and how much of a mainstay of my submissiveness it has become, that I actually did not expect to enjoy anal sex. I was curious about it, and while my girlfriends and I were all agreed on how much we enjoyed fucking, sucking guys cocks and getting out cunts thoroughly licked, when it came to anal, the feedback from those that had tried it ranged from the damning it with faint praise with comments like “well, it wasn’t too bad, and at least he liked it” to the outright “there’s no fucking way I’m doing that again”. None of my friends, it seemed had a particularly positive experience with it.

Porn, didn’t really help. In the porn I watched, it seemed that girls’ arses were always ready to be fucked; generally, I realise now although it didn’t occur to me then, because they have been pre-lubed. And that, you see, is where I think the crux of the problems that my girl friends who didn’t like it lay. Unlike our cunts, our arses are not self-lubricating; the whole “Oops, sorry, wrong hole” thing doesn’t actually work. A man can no more stick their cock into an unlubricated arse, than they can an unlubricated cunt. Now, whereas, with some foreplay and attention, a cunt will get wet, no amount of foreplay will make an arsehole naturally wet enough to take a cock. Sadly, a lot of young people get their “sex education” from porn and it gives them completely inaccurate expectations of how bodies actually work.

Now, I think I’ve alluded to the fact that I’m willing to give most things a try, and, the issues with porn that I’ve described above notwithstanding, from the depictions I had seen of it, there was something delightfully degrading and downright filthy about it that appealed at some very basic level to me. I wasn’t even aware that I had a submissive nature at this stage, let alone h began to explore it; I’m not even sure I knew what “being submissive” even was, but with hindsight it was quite clear that it was there all along. Even back then in my earliest days, I liked the feeling of being “used” by the guy who was fucking me, I loved the experience of being “taken”, and the more roughly I was “taken”, the more I enjoyed it.

And so it happened that, after quite a lot to drink at a party, whilst being fucked senseless and having already been eaten to numerous orgasms, I decided to let my curiosity get the better of me. I wasn’t a stranger to having the guy in question’s finger (or occasionally, fingers) up me when he was fucking me or eating me out and so, with generous quantities of lube being applied, he slowly got me relaxed and opened up with open, then two, and finally three fingers before replacing them with his cock.

Yes, it was a slightly strange sensation at first; it also hurt, despite the lube, but it actually felt pretty good. When he started working his cock in and out, it felt just as deliciously dirty as I thought it would, the discomfort only heightened my enjoyment.  All the time he kept saying things like “I’m fucking your arse,” and “Your arse feels so tight,” and calling me things like “Filthy Slut!” and “Dirty Bitch!” And in that moment, I was exactly those things. I was a filthy slut, I was a dirty Bitch, I was a bad girl who was getting her arse fucked, and I loved it. When he increased the pace and his balls started slapping against my cunt lips, I loved it even more.

Looking back, I think that was my first encounter with “subspace”. As he pounded my arse with long, hard, deep strokes, and as he told me over and over what a bad girl, what a dirty girl I was, I lost myself in a way that I had never really experienced before. When, at the end, he pulled out, stripped off the condom and shot his load over my back and across my arse cheeks, I really did feel like I was the “filthy slut” that he had been calling me as his cock filled my arse and he fucked me with an intensity that I had rarely experienced before.

So, yes, it’s fairly safe to say that he did enjoy it, unlike my friends, so did I, and it was definitely something that I intended to try again.

And here’s the thing, I believe that, if done properly, anal sex should only hurt as the much as the recipient wants it to. The level of pain and discomfort is directly proportional to the amount of lubrication applied.

As I’ve subsequently discovered, I actually like it to hurt quite a bit, and through practice and experience, I know just how much lubrication Master C or “The Other Guy” have to use to get the desired level of pleasure and pain that a good arse-fucking should deliver. That’s not to say that sometimes whichever one of them is fucking my arse won’t deliberately use less than that “optimum” amount, but that’s fine too on occasions and, sometimes I want it to hurt more than others.

So, if your partner tis one of those women who tends to shy away from anal, you may want to try and find out what her reasons are; it maybe that her only previous experience was with someone who watched too much porn and thought he could force his way in with just a little bit of spit. Anal sex can be a highly enjoyable experience for both partners, but men really have the responsibility to make it so for the person whose arse they want to stick their cock up.

Facial

I love cum. I’ve written about it before. It doesn’t matter to me where the guy (or guys) I’m with comes; I love it in my cunt. I love it in my mouth. I love it on my skin. I am, quite simply, a filthy little, cum-loving slut. I simply cannot get too much of it.

I love the warm, sticky sensation of a thick load of cum on my skin; I love it on my arse, I love it on my boobs, and yes, I love it on my face.

A lot of people seem to object to the facial cumshot in porn; however, nothing, for me, demonstrates Master C’s mastery over me than when He paints my face with a full load of His hot, thick, sticky cum.

Why?

Because it’s degrading, because it shows a lack of respect for me, because it’s so deliciously filthy. It screams of the utter contempt that the guy I’m with has for me, it tells me that I’m a filthy, depraved slut, it tells me that I am not worthy to be rewarded with their load inside me and that, instead, I should wear it as a badge of shame, a visual reminder to any who see it of my depraved sluttiness.

Humiliating? Yes! But that is the whole point. With Master C, It’s His way of marking me, claiming me, demonstrating His ownership of me. Yes, it is utterly degrading and contemptuous, and that is precisely why I love it.

Within our poly circle, Master C will ritually paint my face as a way of saying, “This is my slut. You may fuck her, you may use her, but she is mine.”

With the other couples watching, it is humiliating and exhilarating at the same time. The humiliation of being watched as I am marked in this way; the exhilaration of knowing Master C owns me. He may let the other men in the circle fuck me and use me. He may let those men put their own marks on my skin, but only Master C owns me, and His cum on my face is a visual reminder of that.

If I am a good slut, I know later, when we are alone, Master C will reward me, filling either my mouth or my cunt with another thick load; but that first load, the thickest, the fullest is the one that makes me His. Each person that fucks me, will know that I am His.

Wearing Master C’s cum on my face is a badge of my submission, it is a badge proclaiming that I am a filthy little slut, and that I am His filthy little slut. It is a badge I wear with pride; for I am immensely proud to be Master C’s slut.

 

The great procrasturbator

Procrastination: what a wonderful word, and so very apt. I’m not sure where I first came across the word (pun possibly intended) but it’s fair to say I procrasturbate a lot; if it were an Olympic sport, I’d be a medal standard procrasturbator. All too often, I’ll have a wank simply because I can’t be arsed doing something else.

Whether it be contemplating the mountain of ironing that has built up from the weekend, scrubbing the bathroom, cleaning out the fridge, or feeding the cat (no, scrub that last one, if you want the peace and quiet to enjoy a good wank, always ensure the cat has been fed), there are very few things that cannot be put off until after you’ve devoted a little time to yourself.

For example:

You get home from work. If you’re like me, the first thing I do, after feeding the cat, is change out of my work stuff (unless Master C has previously indicated that he wants me to play the part of His slutty PA that evening, and even that requires some costume adjustment). Sometimes I’ll have a shower, sometimes I’ll just change straight into my jeans and a cosy jumper. Depending on the time of the month, I may or may not decide to dispense with the services of my bra. I know that, feeding the cat not withstanding, 100 of those 101 things that need to be done each evening still need doing. The dishwasher needs emptying, the living room needs hoovering, that lightbulb in the hall that’s needed changing since April still needs changing, but I’m naked, or near enough, and I’ve had a long, difficult day, and I need to unwind. Ironically, all the things I used to do in my student days to put off doing any actual studying are now the very things I’m about to have a wank to postpone doing because they actually need doing.

Cue, quick rummage in my toy drawer…

And there is one of the key points of procrasturbation, it itself can be delayed by deciding what kind of wank to have and which toys to employ. Do I want a fast, furious orgasm? Dig out my wand. Do I want a slower, but intense and prolonged climax? I may use my rabbit or one of my other vibrators. Do I want a longer, lazy build up where I can keep myself simmering for as long as I want before allowing myself to come? I may just forget the toys altogether and just use my fingers.

Tonight, I decided to combine the lovely full feeling in both holes by using my double dildo, while enjoying the slow burn of rubbing my clit to climax. In my mind, Master C comes home to find the housework still not done and his lazy slut pleasuring herself. I feel His belt for failing to keep house properly. He spanks me for not ironing the perfect creases into his work shirts. He stands over me as, naked and on my knees, I scrub the kitchen floor, His belt twitching in His hand, ready to punish me if I miss any bits that need cleaning.

When I complete my chores to His satisfaction, Master C bends me over His desk and fucks my arse, brutally and without mercy. His fingers dig into my freshly thrashed arse cheeks as he fucks me.

He pulls out and spins me around. I drop to my knees.

“Filthy!” Slap.

“Lazy!” Slap.

“Worthless!” Slap.

“Slut!” Slap.

My eyes brim with tears, which trickle down my stinging cheeks.

Master C stands over me, stroking His cock. The head swells, an angry purple, and as His cock erupts in my mind, covering my face and neck with a thick load of cum, back in the reality of my bedroom, my orgasm rips through me; claiming me, owning me, holding me in its embrace before finally releasing me.

Afterwards, once I’ve recovered and got dressed, I add ‘wash dildo‘ to my list of chores that still need doing.

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 coming hard before finally falling asleep.

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

Skelpt arse

I suspect I may have mentioned that I am a mischievous little slut, I don’t deny it. As such, Master C almost always has some reason for needing to punish me.

Sometimes He will use His hand, sometimes a rolled up newspaper, for more serious transgressions He will use the paddle and, for the very worst offences, He uses His belt.

The reason for my most recent punishment spanking: spending a very fun, sexy Saturday afternoon with “The Girl”.

As usual, on returning home, I was forced to describe my latest indiscretion in full and vivid detail. I described how we explored each other’s bodies with our lips, fingers and tongues. I told Him all about the toys we used on ourselves and each other. I described in intense minute detail every climax that “The Girl” inflicted on my oh so willing body.

Sessions such as this will usually earn me at least six of the best from Master C’s belt, but on this occasion, He was feeling lenient and deemed the blow-job I gave Him to be a suitable act of contrition, so the punishment was downgraded to a paddling.

The paddle is only marginally less painful than the belt but it inflicts itself over a considerably bigger area.

Suffice to say, I was, as usual, required to assume the position, bent over the desk, while Master C dished out my punishment with resounding thwacks against my poor bottom, having me count out each stroke of the paddle.

Have I learned my lesson? Probably not. And, being totally honest, even if I had, I’d still find countless other ways to misbehave that would require the application of Master C’s stern discipline.

Facial hair

I’ll be perfectly honest; much as I have a fondness for the hairy, rugged male, I can take or leave facial hair. If I had to choose, irrevocably, one or the other, I would choose to leave it.

I can live, quite happily, with a certain amount of stubble, even if it is a bit rough on the skin, but beards don’t really do it for me.

When I’m kissing a guy, I like to be able to get at his lips. In the same way that when I am sucking a guy off, I do appreciate a certain tidiness, the same goes, even more so, with facial hair.

I appreciate that, unless a guy shaves daily, the chances are that he’s never going to be completely smooth. Even Master C, who despite being bodily hairy, doesn’t have much in the way of facial follicles, is still quite prickly within a few hours of his last shave.  It’s just one of those things we women have to put up with.

But, and it is a huge BUT, one aspect of sex that I believe is definitely enhanced by a degree of roughness; I love the extra sensation a couple of days worth of growth gives my clit and my labia when a man goes down on me. That extra bristliness just gives it that extra fillip, that little extra edge, that touch more sensation that makes it all the more pleasurable for me.

Don’t get me wrong, when it comes to cunnilingus, so long as the practitioner is suitably adept at performing the task, I’ll take it anyway I can get it. In much the same way that I love it when another woman eats my cunt, I won’t let the fact that a guy is freshly shave put me off. If, on the other hand (or should that be lip?) he does happen to be sporting a few days’ growth, then HEAVEN…

So, beards, not really a big fan (sorry all my beardy followers), but stubble, hell yeah; just let me get out of my uncomfortably damp knickers and get your face between my thighs.

Déjà sex

Déjà vu is a strange experience at the best of times, but when you experience it during sex it can be particularly disconcerting.

In my post: The sexual spectrum, last week, I made reference to a recent holiday Master C and I took to Greece.  This particular episode occurred during that holiday.

So, image the scene; as the sun beats down, Master C and I take shelter from the afternoon heat in an olive grove. One thing leads to another as the temperature and the seclusion, not to mention the beers that we washed down our picnic with, take effect and our activities turn more carnal.

And it’s there, while I’m bracing myself against the trunk of an olive tree, my boobs hanging free and Master C pounding my cunt from behind with his lovely thick, hard cock that I experienced it.

As I said, it was mildly disconcerting; the almost certainty that I’d been fucked there in that very spot, against that very tree before, even though I’d never been in that grove before.

In another sense it was also strangely arousing, a sense of almost watching myself being fucked, a sense of knowing how each thrust of Master C’s cock in my cunt would feel before it was delivered.

The sensation lasted no more than a second, after that it was just the delicious feeling of being fucked hard, yet languidly against the olive tree until Master C’s cock erupted inside me, filling my cunt with his warm, sticky cum.

As we lay together under the branches, once again it briefly felt hauntingly familiar, snuggled up in Master C’s arms as I’ve done countless times before.

Heat, combined with a bloody good fuck can, it seems, play tricks with the mind.

You said “foo foo”. Our survey said…

Pussy, twat, twinkle cave, flower, fanny (mostly UK, particularly Scotland and Northern Ireland), fud, growler, foo foo, sex, mound, box, cunt, CUNT, CUNT!!

The English language apparently has over 1,000 recognised euphemisms for the female genitalia. I’ve listed a few, off the top of my head, above. Seriously though, 1,000 euphemisms? Somehow I can’t quite see Nick Knowles ever asking contestants to name as many of those as they can come up with on the Saturday night lottery “Who Dares Wins” quiz show… And as for a question on Family Fortunes: “We asked 100 people for a euphemism for vagina…”, Can you imagine it?

Being Scottish, I’ve always quite liked “fanny”; there’s something humorously endearing about it. As often as not, we use it as a moderately insulting term for someone who annoys us, as in: “See him, he’s a right fanny!”, or when someone is dithering, as in: “Stop fuckin’ fannyin’ aroon an get oan wi’ it!” We might even describe someone who is a bit dim as a “Fannyheid”. It’s probably for these reasons that the word “fanny” as a term for vagina has, largely dropped out of use, increasingly replaced by the almost ubiquitous, “pussy”.

Now, we Scots being who we are, are not only increasingly using pussy instead of fanny when referring to a vagina, it’s also beginning to replace fanny in the contexts quoted above as in: “Stop being a pussy” or “Stop pussying about”. I don’t think I’ve encountered the term “Pussyheid” yet, but I’m sure it’s time will come.

Personally, I’ve never liked referring to my lady-bits as a pussy. Firstly, simply down to the fact that for most of my adult life, I’ve kept mine smooth, so there is no luxuriant fur to stroke and secondly because, well, it’s a bit limp really. This is the bit of our body that when used and abused in the right ways, ignites a pleasure in us that the company of a house pet can never match (and if it can, I seriously worry about you). A pussy is a soft and cuddly domestic animal which, fair enough, can be a vicious beast at times, sleeps a lot and needs constant feeding and affection.

OK, so, it’s true, some of the above also applies to my vagina but only in the most oblique of ways.

No, for me, the descriptive word is “Cunt”. It has such a vulgar, earthy sound to it, it rolls satisfyingly off the tongue and is of good, solid, old Germanic/Scandiwegian/Anglo Saxon origin.

A cunt sounds like something that wants, no, deserves to be pummelled and pounded until its owner is a quivering, orgasmic wreck. A cunt sounds like it is there to be invaded, impaled, filled and abused. A cunt sounds as if it was designed for filthy, deviant, sometimes painful but ultimately enjoyable and satisfying things to be done to it, and for them to be done again and again, over and over until all parties are satiated. Whereas a pussy should be petted and stroked, a cunt deserves to be taken, used and fucked.

Another advantage is, that in the derogatory sense, calling someone who is pissing you off a “cunt” is infinitely more satisfying than calling them either a “pussy” or a “fanny”.

Fanny will always hold a soft (and moistly warm) spot in my soul but it’s my cunt that routinely gets fucked.

 

The taste of a woman

I can’t deny it. Ever since the very first time I tasted another woman’s cunt, I have been in love, not just with that particular flavour, but with the whole experience of going down on another woman.

There is something so very beautiful about being between another woman’s legs as she opens up for me, as I run my tongue along and between her labia, tasting her and sharing her pleasure.

I love sensing her warmth as I approach. I love the scent of her sex. I love how she reacts as I bring my lips to hers and part them with my tongue; her reactions, so similar to my own and yet so unique as well.

And then there is the flavour of her on my tongue; and the way it changes, becoming richer as her arousal mounts.

I love the lingering taste of her on my lips, long after we’ve finished, parted, returned to our own lives; a sweet memory of the experience.

There is something so intensely intimate about putting my mouth to an other woman’s most sensitive flesh that has, in my opinion, no direct equivalent when I am with a man; even when I am sucking his cock.

When I lick another woman, she is sharing something of herself with me; not just those lovely rich juices that flow so readily from her, but something almost spiritual that I can’t quite explain. In the moment of her release, as her essence floods over my tongue, coating my lips, covering the lower half of my face, I feel a part of her in a way that I never feel when I am “joined” with a man at the moment of his particular rapture. I’m not a religious person, but for me, that moment when my tongue drives her over the edge, and she coms hard against my mouth, is something akin to a spiritual experience.

Yes, I love the taste of a woman.