TMI Tuesday – Bind ~ Blind ~ Tease


1. Select a kink. You’re a first-time visitor to a dungeon, and you are ‘centre stage’ because a sizeable crowd has gathered to watch you:
a. Writhing from bare-hand spanking
b. Restrained on an X-cross receiving a whipping
c. Dangling in air wrapped in an ornate web of rope
d. Naked on a floor mat with 3 people pleasuring you

I think it’s fairly safe to say that I would clearly need to make four trips to this dungeon so that I could do all four. Or, alternatively I could do all four, one after the other in a single evening. If I really had to choose though, I’d have three people pleasuring me simultaneously. Truth be told, I have actually done all of these in such a venue.

2. If you selected #4 in the last question, tell us how you are pleasured?
It kind of depends on the make-up of the participants, but there would be lots of licking, kissing and caressing involved. If one of the participants was a woman, I’d love to be eating her out, savouring the taste of her cunt as I have both my cunt and my arse stuffed full of cock. If I’m being pleasured by three men, well the solution is pretty obvious. How they decide who gets to fuck which hole, I’ll leave entirely up to them

3. Bind, blind, tease. Write a 50-word story and include those 3 words.
Blind; the cloth over my eyes prevents me from seeing. Motionless; the rope used to bind my wrists and ankles holds me in place, biting my skin. They tease me with anticipation; not knowing who will do what. The tension build, my pulse quickens. And then, at last, they begin…

4. Sex Doll play: The ‘doll’ is the human version of an inflatable sex doll. The ‘doll’ must lie completely still on a bed and let their partner have at it. The partner is free to control the doll’s body and movements, and do what they please. Which will you be–the doll or the doll-master? Why?
Kind of goes without saying that as a submissive, I’d be the “doll” and Master C would be in charge. Again, like the first question, it’s something that we actually do after a fashion. I will be required to be still and silent, and endure whatever Master C chooses to do to me. The sting, of course, is that their are forfeits for each time He deems that I fail. There is also always a reward at the end, however, dependent on how well I have managed to comply.

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Cliff top views


After the long drudge through the storms and miserable weather of January and February, yesterday was one of those bright, early spring days that help lift the soul. The sun was shining, birds were singing and there was some genuine warmth in the sunshine. Since it was such a nice day, Master C and I took a drive from our village to the nearby coastal trail.

The trail goes through some wooded stretches, passes a pretty impressive waterfall, but mostly follows a gently undulating path along the cliff-tops. It’s one of our favourite short(ish) walking routes, looking out over the Forth of Clyde across towards Arran. After parking up, we followed the path for about 3½ miles until we reached the viewpoint we were aiming for. From here, on a clear day like yesterday, you can look to the southwest and see the coast of Northern Ireland. You can, conveniently, see for about half a mile along the path in both directions. During the summer, and the school holidays, the path would be teeming with walkers; individually, couples, families, the occasional runner, but yesterday we met two dog walkers on our way to the view point and, apart from the hum of the traffic from a fairly busy main road about 500m behind us, and a couple of fishing boats that we could make out in the Forth, we could have been the only people in the world. What came next, was probably inevitable.

“If I brace myself against the wall, you could fuck me from behind,” I observed.

While we may, just about have been visible from the road I mentioned, it wasn’t actually a clear view and given the speed the cars were doing as the zipped along, it was doubtful that anyone would actually notice anything more than what looked like two people looking out over the cliffs.

Master C flashed me a smile. “Good girl,” He said, “Now, drop them!”

I wriggled my jeans and knickers down to my ankles and supported myself against the wall. Master C ran His fingers up the inside of my thighs and between the folds of my cunt, sliding them back and forth. I was amazed how wet I was and, when He occasionally forced His fingers into my cunt, I felt myself on the verge of orgasm already.

Master C paused, and lifted His fingers to my mouth. I took them between my lips and licked my juices from them, savouring the taste of myself. His fingers returned to my cunt. Distracted, I kept a watch as best I could for anyone coming towards us along the path; thankfully there was still no one.

Fingers of one hand in my cunt, the other hand up my top, squeezing my boobs, Master C tormented me relentlessly, mercilessly. I was loving the attention of His fingers, but I’d suggested a fuck, because I really wanted a fuck; to have His cock inside me. Every moment He denied me increased the risk of some walker, runner, or cyclist appearing and depriving me of what I wanted so much.

“Come first, then I’ll fuck you,” Master C breathed into my ear.

I didn’t really need to be told twice. I pushed my hips back, increasing the pressure of Master C’s finger against my clit, and let go; a long moan released from deep inside me.

Fingers gone; the head of Master C’s cock pressed against my opening and pushed its way in.

Braced against the wall, the sunlight from a blue sky reflecting off the sea below, Master C’s cock deep inside me; everything felt so good.

Master C thrust hard. I pushed my hips back to meet Him. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back sharply as he drove His cock into me, pounding my cunt with deep, hard strokes.

There was an urgency to the way Master C fucked me. An urgency borne of a deep need to release and the possibility of interruption.

“Naughty girl! Brazen hussy! Mischievous slut!” These were just some of the names He called me as He fucked me, and I felt like I was everyone of those things. I was naughty and mischievous and, being fucked in a spot where I could so easily be observed, was definitely brazen.

Master C’s breathing became more laboured. The pace and intensity of His thrusts increased. He released my hair, grabbed my hips, pulled me firmly back to Him as He thrust hard inside me and, moaning my name, came hard inside me.

He pulled out. I turned and squatted down, taking His cock in my mouth, relishing the mixed flavours of us as His cum dripped from my cunt.

Once I had Him cleaned, we both straightened ourselves up, walked over to one of the tables, poured ourselves drinks from the flask and enjoyed the snacks we’d brought for when we got here.

A couple jogged by as we picnicked. The waved and gave us a cheery “Hello” to which we responded in kind. As we retraced our steps back to the car park, we encountered another couple of walkers. With Master C’s cum still dribbling out of me, the walk back was decidedly less comfortable than the walk out had been, but all things considered, I didn’t mine at all.

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After dark


It’s pretty fair to say that there is no way I could let this prompt pass without writing something on this subject. Since my earliest student days in my late teens, all the way through to the present, as someone with a particular penchant for doing sex things in risky locations, the darkened alleyway and/or the deserted thoroughfare have been a constant part of my locationary repertoire; whether that be with Master C or with some random casual acquaintance.

The very first time was in my first year at university. It was a Friday night, some drinks had been consumed, and I was enjoying the company of a charming young man who was saying all the right things and whom I decided I wanted to see more of. The intention had been to go back to halls, but as soon as we stepped outside the Student Union building, there was an urgency that overtook us. That part of town has numerous closes and vennels, and we quickly found one that was suitably secluded, although not entirely not overlooked, for our purposes.

Of course, it was only as things had heated up to the point where I had his cock in my hand that the realisation that neither of us had condoms on us dawned and so, I got to my knees in the darkened rear doorway of whatever building we were behind, took him in my mouth and sucked him off. The fact that we could potentially be caught in the act at any moment should someone else walk down that lane, or that we could possibly be overseen from the window of one of the tenements opposite was, it turned out, almost as big a turn on for him as it was for me. I sucked his cock with a frantic urgency and, in virtually no time at all (although in that exposed location, it seemed like an eternity), he exploded in my mouth, filling it with a huge load of thick cum that I hungrily gobbled down. After that, we straightened ourselves up, headed back to the Student Union to purchase condoms, went back to halls and spent the rest of Friday night and most of Saturday fucking each other senseless.

Since then, the drunken back alley fuck/blow-job has become one of my al fresco activities.

There is, to me, an inherent sluttiness about it; particularly if it’s a random encounter. Its a surrender to an urge that is so powerful, a need so intense that it cannot be denied or delayed. The act itself has an urgency, caused in no small part by the fact that it is risky, you could be disturbed and that simply adds to the experience. I have, in fact, been caught in the act on a few occasions. Fortunately nothing more ever came of it than some disapproving comments by the person who chanced upon us, but that in itself added another element to the experience.

If I’m fucking or sucking someone in a lane behind a pub, there is always that possibility. Senses are already heightened, but voices in the next street sound closer, footsteps on cobbles or pavements sound louder, lights in windows suggest the possibility of being observed. At any moment you could be disturbed by a drunken reveller, someone putting rubbish out, a resident coming home or going out, another couple looking for a secluded spot to do exactly what you are doing. All these thoughts are constantly there at the edge of your consciousness; the sense of excitement and apprehension combining to intensify the whole experience.

It doesn’t matter if I have my back against the wall, one leg hooked around his waist as he fucks me, or if he’s fucking me from behind as I brace myself against a doorway, or if I’m on my knees, sucking hungrily on his cock, the whole time I am aware of the riskiness of our situation and that only makes me even more determined to extract every ounce of filthy, wanton pleasure out of the act I am engaging in.

When it’s Master C I am engaging in such activities with, there is always the risk of an extra element being added to this. It is not unknown for Him to decide to mark me, to come on my face and forbid me from cleaning it off, forcing me to wear the evidence of my wanton sluttiness as we emerge from the dark alley out into the street lit, more populated lanes and streets as we make our way home. This, of course, while somewhat mortifying, does play to my humiliation/degradation fetishes and leaves me with a delicious juxtaposition of hoping no one notices His cum on my face while, at the same time, also hoping they do.

It’s been 30 years or so since I sucked my fellow student off in that alley. In the intervening years I have enjoyed many, many frantic fucks in deserted lanes, and I’m absolutely certain I will enjoy more still in the future.

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Watching


The prompt for Kink of the Week has the following quote:

“Voyeurism is a beautiful and delightful thing. There is nothing more intimate than really looking at someone.”

~ Laurel Nakadate

Now, I agree with the above statement, but I also have reservations about it. To me, voyeurism has elements of both pleasure and pain and it largely depends on who I am watching and the circumstances behind it.

For the record, I am very much an exhibitionist; I love the thought that I could be observed and I knowing that people are actually watching me and getting aroused watching me is a massive turn on. That, however, is another post for another time. Let us get back to watching.

For me, there are essentially three different forms of voyeurism and the have different feelings and emotions associated with them.

The first is an what I would describe as participative voyeurism. This happens in a group sex/sex party situation. I’m either watching others fuck while I myself am being fucked, or while I am “between fucks”. In this scenario, I am part of the scene; mine is one of the writhing, pleasure filled bodies. The air is filled with the sounds and scents of people fucking and I am one of those participants making my own contribution to sensual whole. The participants combine and recombine in different pairings, triples, quadruples, or whatever combination of bodies works for the given mood.

From a point of pure hedonism, there is nothing that really comes close to this. Watching the other participants is part of the act itself. As the observer, I am both influencing and being influenced by what I see, what I hear, what I smell, what I taste. I am watching and, simultaneously, being watched; the exhibitionist and voyeur turn-on buttons are both being pressed.

The second is a slightly more passive form of the above. I’m possibly in a swingers’ club or similar. I am watching others fuck, but I am not part of that scene, merely watching others enjoying each other. The sights, sounds and scents are still there, but I am not involved. It’s like a live action porn scene, but without the exaggerated, asthmatic banshee wailing. Unlike the previous situation, I can focus my attention fully on what I am watching. Depending on how close I can be, I can observe the minute little details; the expressions on faces, the changes in breathing, the sounds of two bodies moving together. All of these things are stimulating the pleasure neurons in my brain, triggering a response in me.

I know that, at some point, I will reach a place where I can no longer watch, the need for release will become to great. At that point I will retire to another room and deal with the situation. At that point, I go from being the observer to potentially being the subject of someone else’s voyeurism as the watch me either bring myself off, get fucked by Master C, or, with His permission I fuck someone else.

The final scenario is the one that brings a juxtaposition of emotions. I am tied up, bound, helpless, and I am required to watch as another woman attends to Master C. This is such a hard one because I know what they are enjoying and I know what I’m being deprived of. The dutiful submissive in me is happy for Master C and the pleasure He is receiving, but I am torn because it should be me that is providing it. It should be me that is sucking on that wonderful cock. It should be my cunt that He is feasting on and fucking. It is me that should be receiving that lovely rich, thick load of cum. I should be the one responsible for His pleasure. In an indirect way, I also know that I am. If I’m in this scenario, I’m almost certainly being punished for something and He wouldn’t be being attended to like this if I hadn’t been guilty of some transgression. That, however, is something of a moot point.

Similarly, I am happy for the other woman because I know exactly what she is enjoying; I know the expertise with which Master C’s tongue will drive her repeatedly to orgasm, I know the mastery with which He will fuck her, I can almost feel the pleasure she is feeling, but I should actually be feeling it because all those things should be being done to and with me.

I know that afterwards, Master C will be deeply attentive and will give me what I crave, and I have that to look forward to, but in that moment, there is a delicious mixture of watching Master C fuck majestically and desolation that it isn’t me that is receiving Him.

I think, it’s fair to say, that voyeurism, for me at least, can be something of a complicated issue that ticks so many of my boxes on different levels. It is something that, on the whole, I find deeply arousing. If I had to choose, however, much as I enjoy watching others fuck, on balance, I’d much rather that I was the centre of attention and that it was me that was being watched.

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TMI Tuesday – Nudie Cuties


1. What are your thoughts on public nudity or skimpy clothing?
Firstly, the clothes I wear are primarily for me to feel comfortable/sexy/warm/daring/<insert other mood here> in and for Master C to enjoy. I will often take guidance from Him, however; if he wants me to be revealing/slutty/reserved/etc., then that’s what I will be. I have absolutely no qualms about being naked in public, whether than be in the context of a gathering of our sharing circle, or in a swingers’ club, in my garden where I could, from certain angles, be observed, standing in front of a hotel window, on a nudist beach. I suspect I might draw the line at walking nude to the shops, but Master C has taken photos of me naked and/or engaging in sex in a number of settings where it would be quite easy for others to observe me in my natural state if they happened to pass by.

2. Which of the following best describes you:
a. Exhibitionist
b. Voyeur
c. Keep nudity and things sexual behind closed doors

I suspect the answer to the previous question more or less answers this. I am a combination of exhibitionist and voyeur. There is a definite thrill about the thought that I might be overseen, but actually knowing that I am being watched, whether that be online, or in person, whether my audience is only Master C or “The Other Guy” or whether it is other members of our sharing circle or, again, other visitors to a swingers’ club, is something that takes things to a completely different level. I do, however, also love to watch others. Watching one of the other women in our circle going down on, or being fucked by Master C gives a wonderfully delicious juxtaposition of emotions.

3. What is the most revealing outfit that you have ever worn in public?
If you don’t count a bikini, which in my case, I generally only ever wear the bottoms, in my student days I used to regularly go clubbing in a short skirt that barely covered my arse and a low cut, cropped top that just about kept my boobs out of public display. Underwear was optional.

4. There are only two types of beaches left in the world–clothing optional and must be clothes-free. Which beach will you visit?
Since both allow me to be naked, either is fine with me. I prefer to be as near to naked as is allowable when I’m on a beach. I find sweaty, sticky, clingy scraps of material to be decidedly uncomfortable so if it is permissible to dispense with their dubious services, I will always choose to do so.

5. You have just gotten out of the shower to find that your towel is hanging outside on the clothesline. Your house is full of guests. Do you:
a. Call out for someone to bring your towel.

b. Use something else to dry yourself.
c. Retrieve your towel as inconspicuously as possible wrapping it around you at the earliest chance.
d. Take advantage of the sunshine and dry yourself au naturale in your backyard.

Largely, I guess, this would depend on the nature of the guests present. Master C has contrived to make this very situation occur, and I simply just walked out into the room in all my clean/dripping wet glory. Option d. is a nice idea, but living where I do, the chances of the weather playing along is somewhat remote.

Bonus: Have you ever skinny dipped or visited a nude beach? Pictures would be awesome!
Frequently. I always look for beaches where I can go nude when I’m abroad. I’ve already said that I don’t like material clinging to me in the heat and there is something wonderful about feeling both the sun, and the sea in contact with every inch that is just so freeing and relaxing. If the beach is suitably remote and/or free from other bathers, it also means other activities can easily be indulged in, so long as you’re careful about the sand.

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TMI Tuesday – Oh you sexy thangs!


1. Pick your next sexual encounter. Only pick one, then tell us why that is your choice.
a. Blindfolded during oral sex
b. Sex in a hot tub
c. Sex in an elevator
d. Phone sex
e. Bringing in a third party
This one was easy. I have done all of the above at some point, and while I do look forwards to the days when I/we can get third parties involved again, for me, being blindfolded while someone goes down on me wins (if I’m also restrained, it’s an added bonus). It’s the whole being at their mercy thing, the heightened anticipation and the not knowing what the other person is going to do next and, in some circumstances, who the other person actually is that just makes it such a deliciously arousing experience.

2. When could having sex with an ex be a good thing?
In my own experience, I’m not sure that it can be. I can get how having someone who knows your body and the way it responds and the things you like might seem like a good thing, but if they are an ex, they are almost certainly one for a reason, and you would almost certainly be at risk of reopening old wounds. In my particular case, the ex I was having sex with was cheating on his then partner who just so happened to be the person he cheated on me with and then left me for. And yes, the sex was great, but it didn’t make the situation any less fucked up.

3. Have you ever had sex in a public toilet? No judgment. (Oooh you nasty!)
This is one of those rare things that I can say, I’ve never actually done. The idea of fucking in a pub/club loo just really doesn’t do it for me; I’d rather drag them outside into an alley behind the venue in question. That said, there are some circumstances where it could tap into my degradation/humiliation fetish, so I won’t say it’s a “never”.

4. Car sex is hot or not?
Not especially. I mean, when you need to fuck, you need to fuck, and it does lend itself to the possibility of being observed (either deliberately or accidentally) which adds to the experience, but it’s generally cramped and not especially comfortable. If the weather conditions permit, then being fucked over the bonnet of said car is probably a better option.

5. What is the most appealing thing about you?
I suspect I’m probably not the best person to ask. I’m a kinky, submissive redhead, which I know works for a lot of people, and I am very much a blowjob enthusiast (as anyone who has read this blog or follows me on twitter will already know), which has earned me a lot of plaudits down the years. I think it’s one of those “in the eye of the beholder” things. Oh, and did I mention, I also happily take it in the arse.

Bonus: Some time ago in Geneva, Switzerland, a coffee shop opened where you can get a hot, delicious cup of coffee, with a side of hot, delicious blowjob. That’s right, after you order your coffee you use an iPad to select the sex worker that you want to have give you the blowjob.  A – Would you visit this coffee shop? B – Would you get the blowjob?
If they serve good coffee, then why not? Not sure what is in it for the female customers though, unless “blowjob” in this context means having a sex worker go down on them irrespective of the gender of provider and recipient. Flip side though, the idea that (assuming it was also permitted) I could openly walk up to Master C while He is enjoying a coffee, kneel down in front of Him and then proceed to openly suck Him off in public, and no one would think it out of place, definitely ticks a lot of my “fuck yeah!” boxes.

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The joys of Skype


Skype is the business traveller’s best friend. Even when Master C is as far from home as I can be and still be in Britain, it allows much more in the way of interaction than a simple phone call.

Take last night for example; I’m at home, Master C is in His hotel room, in Bristol. My laptop set up so that it’s camera can take in most of my bed. Maste C calls me and after a few minutes spent describing our respective days to each other, He begins describing what He’d do to me if He weren’t 400+ miles away.

Inevitably, I find myself naked and I’m rubbing moisturiser into my boobs, imagining the gloopy substance is Master C’s cum, as He describes how He’s going to thrash me for being such a dirty little tease.

As my cunt gets hotter and wetter, I long to feel His tongue on my clit. I desperately want to finger myself, make myself come but Master C orders me not to.

A look at the laptop screen and I see him stroking His lovely, thick cock and I so wish it was me doing it to Him.

“Do you want to suck this?” Master C asks. I nod, wishing He was here or I was there so I could take the angry, swollen purple head between my lips.

“Do you want this in your cunt?” Again I nod, moaning confirmation of how much I want Him inside me, stretching me, filling me, fucking me.

“Do you want this in your arse, you filthy little slut?”

“Yes please,” I moan, “please stick your lovely big fat cock up my slutty little arse.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your filthy little slut and I love taking your cock up my arse.”

“Slut!”

“Yes,”

“Filthy whore!”

“Yes,”

“Finger yourself! Fuck your cunt with your fingers.”

I comply, and as my thumb presses against my clit, I feel my climax ignite.

One orgasm isn’t enough though, and Master C orders me to continue fucking myself. My cunt grips my fingers as I plunge them deep inside me. My clit throbs beneath my thumb. My head tosses from side to side and my back arches. Distantly I hear Him ordering me on, demanding I abuse myself further.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity of pleasure filled torture, Master C relented. He ordered me to lick my juices from my fingers. I savour the taste as, in the screen, He furiously pumps His cock.

“Come on me!” I gasp, “Cover me with your lovely cum, make me your very own cum-soaked slut.”

He moans my name. “Mmmoooo-ahhhh-rrrraaaggg….” It’s almost a sob as His cock edupts, sending long, thick jets streaking through the air. The rationale part of my brain thinks it’s such a shame all that lovely cum is going to waste, but mostly, I don’t care; my body is too drained to worry about such things.

We sign-off. I switch off the light and curl up to go to sleep and dream filthy dreams. The only thing missing is Master C’s warm, strong body to cuddle up next to.

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Dark alleys


Sex in dark alleyways has always been a particular forte of mine. It began in my casual days and it’s something that I still do quite regularly, be that with Master C, or some random guy who has caught my eye on a night out.

I’m no stranger to outdoor sex, but outdoor sex of the back alley variety usually involves alcohol. Not that I’m particularly inhibited in my sexual wantoness by any means, but there’s nothing like a few drinks to make you feel a wee bit more daring. It also helps that the town I live in has lots of dark lanes, alleyways, closes, nooks and crannies that are just idea for a bit of late night, can’t wait to get home fuckery.

Why do I do it? Well, there’s the thrill factor; there is always a risk of being caught in the act. This has happened on occasion, and on at least two of those, it has been by other couples presumably looking for somewhere to do exactly the same thing. There’s also the thought that even if no one walks by, you could still be being watched. Often these dark closes are down behind tenement blocks and anyone could, potentially, look out their window and watch you giving a drunken blow-job or having an alcohol fuelled quickie.

Mostly though, it’s simply because, when I’m at a certain level of drunkenness, I get uncontrollably randy. I don’t want to wait until I get home to have sex, I want fucked and I want fucked pretty much there and then. Generally, I’ve found guys are quite willing to oblige, despite the obvious risks, and Master C is no exception. If you’ve read my cumslut post, then you will know that, not only does He enjoy it as much as me, but sometimes He likes to crank the stakes up to an entirely higher level.

Really, for me, it’s a combination of things: the excitement, the riskiness, the sop to my exhibitionist streak, the arousal, the need for urgent sexual fulfilment, and the enjoyment of a bloody good fuck. Mostly though, it’s because I’m a filthy little slut who is always ready for cock, especially if it’s Master C’s cock, wherever I am.

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Out and about


I am a lover of the outdoors. I love being naked outdoors. There is something inherently natural about it. I love the feeling of the sun on my naked skin. I love feeling those gentle breezes that make the fine hairs stand on end and add to the sensitivity.

Whether it be soaking up the sun on a Greek beach, finding a remote country spot, or just simply lying out in the garden, the feel of the sun’s warmth  and/or gentle breezes all over my skin, there is a glorious natural feeling that simply can’t be replicated.

Sadly, living in a part of the world where the climate doesn’t often lend itself to outdoor nudity, and on those occasions that it does, the chances of them coinciding with me being free are so few and far between, they almost have to be grabbed and exploited.

Of course, if there’s one thing better than outdoor nudity, it’s outside sex. There are any number of places near to where Master C and I live that lend themselves to alfresco loving; whether it’s in the countryside, or various places along the shore, or, should inspiration fail us, our own garden. Of course there are also numerous back alleys and dark closes that lend themselves to drunken, late night quickies, but those are the subject of another post.

The thrill of outdoor sex comes from the risk of discovery; it adds a degree of excitement that makes the experience more intense. For me, the greater the chance of being caught, the sexier the experience is. The only drawback, if you can call it that, is that the riskier the location, the less clothing is likely to be removed. Sometimes the biggest thrill from outdoor sex is doing it in such a way that any people around are unaware that you are doing it.

One of the sexiest experiences I ever had was having sex in the middle of a park in Dublin, the guy I was with sat with his back against a tree, me sat astride him, my knickers pushed aside and me rocking gently as people passed by all around us, unaware (or at least, so I thought) of what was going on almost right under their noses.

Of course, if you can find a remote enough spot, a more leisurely approach can be taken. If it’s warm enough, you can take the risk of stripping off, letting the heat of the sun add to the heat of the situation.

Of course, seclusion is no guarantee of absolute privacy. Ramblers, dog walkers, horse riders and even mountain bikers can, and do, sometimes, appear seemingly out of nowhere. On those rare occasions where an outdoor shag has been interrupted in circumstances such as those just described, the general response has more often than not been embarrassment rather than outrage. On one particular occasion, one couple did stop briefly to enquire if we’d noticed any other likely spots nearby.

I am a big fan of of alfresco nudity, and sex; it’s just a shame that our weather gives us so few opportunities to indulge in such activities. So, when the circumstances and the weather combine to allow me to be naked outdoors, you can be certain that I will take advantage of it.

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