It’s not just for sitting on


I will freely admit, I take it up the arse and I love it.

The first time I got my arse fucked was when I was 15, not long after losing my virginity. It wasn’t planned, well, not by me at least. One minute I was standing, feet apart, bracing myself against the wall for support, trying hard not to make any noise as my boyfriend’s mum was downstairs watching Eastenders while he was busy giving my cunt a very thorough pounding from behind, when, suddenly I felt one, then two very well lubricated fingers working their way into and being twisted around in my arsehole. When, moments later, his cock slipped out of my cunt, I had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen next. Sure enough, he removed his fingers and began working his cock into my tight rear hole.

I’ve no idea why he decided to do it; I’m fairly certain that I hadn’t given any indication that it was something I wanted to try, he just went ahead and did it. It’s fair to say, despite the lubrication, it hurt quite a bit, the sensations were, unusual, to say the least; but by the time he’d given my arse a pounding almost every bit as thorough as the one he’d given my cunt, pulled out and shot his warm sticky load over my back and arse cheeks, it is fair to say, I had become an anal addict.

In my opinion. there is, you see, nothing loving or tender about an arse fucking. Well, that’s not entirely true, I love getting my arse fucked, and it is always very tender afterwards, but that isn’t my point. The point is, that for all I enjoy soft, romantic, loving sex, I also like rough, hard, animalistic sex. The filthier it is, the more I love it; and anal sex fits perfectly into this category.

To me, a guy doesn’t make love to an arse, he fucks it, preferably forcefully and hard. When Master C has His cock in my arse, it is the ultimate symbol of His possession of me. It is Master C saying, in the most basic language there is, that I am His filthy little slut and He is going to use me however He so pleases.

And on that point, there’s nothing I like more when I’m having my arsehole brutally pounded than to be told, in no uncertain terms, that I am a filthy little slut and that I am getting exactly what I deserve. If those words are accompanied by some stinging slaps to my buttocks and my hair being yanked hard so that my head is pulled back, then so much the better; it simply emphasises the Master C’s ownership of me and the fact that my body is His to use. In these instances, a thorough buggering is the epitome of filthiness and, quite obviously, there are times when I want to be His filthy little slut and I need Master C to let me know that that is most certainly what I am.

Sometimes, getting my arse fucked will just be part of a wider sexual experience, one where we spend an afternoon, or an evening, or occasionally a whole day just pleasuring each other, doing whatever feels right and whatever we are in the mood for at any given moment. On other occasions, it will be all there is; a brutal punishment for some actual or imagined transgression on my part. It doesn’t really matter to me what the actual circumstances are, so long as my arse gets at least it fair share of attention, then I’m happy.

That isn’t to say I expect, or even want, to feel His cock in my back passage every time we have sex, because I don’t; although it is certainly His right to decide which hole He fucks and how hard He fucks it. I can be just as happy with a good cunt pounding or a prolonged session of oral or even mutual wanking; but, when I’m in the mood for feeling filthy, nothing, but nothing will satisfy me more than getting my tight, slutty little arsehole well and truly fucked by Master C’s glorious hard cock.

#MasturbationMonday
Advertisements

The cage


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

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

Step one: I am thrashed/birched soundly.

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

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

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

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

And yet, the cage isn’t always bad…

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

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

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

The “truth” about size


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

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

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

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

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

Do these women insist on documentary evidence?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#MasturbationMonday

 

The joys of wanking


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#MasturbationMonday

The humble hand-job


The hand-job is an often overlooked aspect of sexual activity; which is slightly ironic since, for many of us, it was the first overtly sexual act that we ever performed on another person. In my own particular case, I was 14 when I did it.

There was someone extremely exciting about the whole thing; the feeling of his cock growing hard in my hand,the moans of pleasure as I teased him with my fingers, the stiffening of his body and increasing raggedness of his breathing as his climax approached, and then the explosive release of his load when I finally took him past of no return.

Similarly, feeling his fingers pump in and out, twisting around inside me, stretching me as he attempted to work another inside my cunt really got me going. When his thumb pressed against my clit, my orgasm was so intense I thought I might faint.

For me, much of the enjoyment came from discovering the types of touches that drove him wild and then learning to prolong proceedings as much as possible; teasing, almost torturing him until he could take no more.

Of course, it wasn’t all one way traffic. I enjoy being teased too. Fingers driven skilfully into my cunt combined with clit being rubbed and flicked will give me an orgasm every bit as enjoyable as one resulting from a bloody good fucking. For the first few months as a sexually active person, until I discovered the joys of having him go down on me, every orgasm I experienced was either as a result of either his fingers or mine.

Today, the hand-job still plays an important part of my sexual repertoire; sometimes as part of foreplay, and sometimes as an event in its own right. Still the aim is the same, to give Master C as much pleasure as possible, and delaying his release for as long as possible. In the same way, Master C will skilfully use His fingers to take me to the brink of climax and then hold me there, hovering on the precipice until He decides whether or not it is time for me to come..

Of course, since those early days, I’ve also added my mouth and my boobs to my arsenal if ‘weapons’ that can be employed. Hand-jobs and blow-jobs work particularly well in tandem, but sometimes there is a lot of fun to be had from reverting back to those more “innocent” days of early sexual exploration.

Mutual masturbation can be a highly enjoyable experience; having Master C’s fingers working inside my cunt as I’m jerking Him off, both of us cuddled together can, in its own way, be every bit as intimate, sometimes even more so, than an intense fucking.

It also has the advantage of being something that can be done, almost blatantly in a public situation, for example on a train or in a cinema. A strategically placed jacket, a surreptitious undoing of the flies and you’re pretty much good to go.

Hands, and in particular fingers, are so much more versatile compared to cocks, cunts and tongues, and touch is such an important sense. The hand-job is almost an intrinsic part of sex-play, be it on our own, for our own pleasure, or with a partner. Far from being a solitary experience, masturbation can be a wonderfully shared source of pleasure, so let’s hear it for those wonderfully flexible digits that have been the source of so much pleasure.

#WickedWednesday Kink of the Week

Knowing my place


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

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

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

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

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

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

#MasturbationMonday

Relationship evolution


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Putting on a show


So picture the scene, six girlfriends away for a long-awaited girly spa weekend at Stobo Castle to pamper away the mid-January blues. Between us, we booked three rooms and as things worked out, I end up rooming with “The Girl”. Now, as “The Girl” and I have been known to play together, I wasn’t going to complain about this, far from it. If anything, I was figuring out how to take advantage of the situation (and her) from the moment we got to our room.

So at one point in the afternoon, I’m having a quick Skype with Master C, generally just telling Him about the place and so on, when “The Girl” emerges from the bathroom after her shower.

Of course, “The Girl” being “The Girl”, she suddenly decides the room is too warm and discards her dressing gown before striding back and forth around the room putting herself in the view of the camera every couple of seconds.

After that, the sequence of events gets a bit blurred. Suffice to say I end up equally naked and “The Girl” is snogging my face off. Meanwhile, a quick glance at the screen reveals that Master C’s face has now been replaced by His extremely hard and very erect cock.

The next half hour or so was a blur of boob sucking, clit licking and cunt fingering, punctuated with Master C’s increasingly laboured commands to “fuck her cunt with your fingers” or “sit on her face” and other such things.

Now Master C has always enjoyed hearing about my play sessions with “The Girl” and/or other women, and he has, of course, watched me play with others in person, but this is the first time He’s ever watched me in action remotely. Seeing His hard cock on the screen and knowing I was being watched was a massive turn on that had my cunt soaked and me coming hard again and again. “The Girl”, for her part was every bit as orgasmic as I was.

The finalé came with both “The Girl” and I kneeling before the screen, mouths open as if we were ready to receive his load, as Master C’s cock erupted, sending thick spurts of cum into the air. Such a waste, but also such an amazingly hot experience.

Of course, I knew I was going to be punished when I got home for being such a brazen slut, and that exited state of trepidation added another layer of enjoyment to the whole weekend. Given the chance I’m sure Master C would love to punish “The Girl” too for leading his wilful slut astray. He might have to wait a while for that.

So, what, you may ask, does this have to do with this week’s question? The truthful answer is, probably not a lot, although it does kind of involve me being naked for an audience, and it seemed like to good a story not to share with you.

Can you find it in your hearts to forgive for going off script this week?  Even just a little bit… I’ll be a good girl, I promise…

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

It’s not just about cock


I don’t claim to speak on behalf of the female population at large, but as I see things, there are four important parts of his body that a man should use when it comes to satisfying us women.  The more of these he can apply, the more satisfying any given sexual encounter is likely to be for us members of the fairer sex; and keeping us satisfied is, of course, the primary duty of those rugged, hairy beasts we choose to give our bodies to.

I suppose I could have also included the face as a fifth, since looks, and indeed physical attraction as a whole is, often the starting point; without attraction, sex isn’t likely to happen and the rest becomes academic. Also, attractiveness is important to blokes too. Furthermore, it’s almost impossible to quantify. Beauty is, as they say, only skin deep and very much in the eye of the beholder.

So, without any further ado, and in no particular order, I give you my essential men’s’ naughty bits.

1. Brain
So it’s a commonly held belief that men don’t have enough blood to supply both ends of their bodies but, to be honest, we women can be just as bad. The brain is often overlooked as a sexual organ but it is responsible for intelligence, wit, charm, attentiveness, creativeness and experimentation; all things that we women appreciate. Granted, depending on our mood, or what we’re looking for, the relative importance of each of the above elements will vary in relation to each other. In some cases, eg, in the case of a drunken, one night fumble, their importance may seem to vanish altogether but, at some subconscious level, they are still there. The simple fact is, you need to engage our minds before you will ever get the chance to engage any other part of our anatomy.

2. Mouth
Possibly the most versatile of the sexual organs in that it can be used in so many ways.

First, you can use it to tell us how good we look and how sexy we are (hint: you can never do this too often). You can tell us what you intend to do to us. You can ask us what we like (no, really, you can actually do this…). You can also moan and murmur with pleasure as we unleash our talents on you, letting us know how much you are enjoying our attentions. Believe it or not, some of us do like to be told even though it’s generally pretty obvious. Comparisons with exes (and/or other current partners for the benefit of the polyamorous) can sometimes be welcome, but only where favourable. When I’ve got my lips wrapped around your cock, the last thing I want to hear is that I’m almost as good as so-and-so, so if we aren’t actually the best you’ve ever had, either learn to lie (you’re guys and it’s sex we’re talking about after all so it should come naturally to you), or keep it zipped.

Second, there’s kissing. Be it soft, loving and tender, or rough and frantic, we love to be kissed, anywhere and everywhere. No part of our body is immune to touch of your lips. Sometimes, a good passionate snog is all we need (especially when our location means that getting naked and getting down to it would probably get us arrested). Kisses can be a simple show of affection or the can be a way of keeping us simmering until a more suitable time and appropriate location for more full on action presents itself.

Thirdly, there’s the tongue. It’s often been said that the only people who really know how to go down on a women are other women. While it may be true that, as women, we know how we like our cunts to be treated and so, as a result, we tend to go down on other women the way we would like them to go down on us, whereas guys tend to be a little more direct in their approach, I’ve always found that, with sufficient practice and familiarity with what the woman in question likes, men can be every bit as good. Different, yes, but just as satisfying. The key thing is, if you are uncertain, ask, don’t guess. We women are pretty good at telling you what we want when it comes to everything else and sex is no different. Most of us will appreciate such a show of consideration and attentiveness and it will almost definitely be rewarded.

3. Hands
Touch is very important. Whether it be fleeting contacts, gentle caresses through to sensual massage, or full body contact, we are tactile creatures and respond as such.

Of course, it’s not just the hands and fingers; hugs are equally important when it comes to making us feel wanted and appreciated. I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, but in my opinion, the post-coital cuddle is almost as an important part of the sexual experience as the act itself. That extended moment of shared closeness, both partners bathed in the warm glow of their exertions as their bodies slowly come down from their respective sexual highs is, for me anyway, as satisfying as any orgasm.

Of course, living as we do in this digital age, the fingers can be involved in another sexual activity: the naughty text/IM/email. For me, many sessions have began hours before there is any physical contact with a partner sending me flirtatious texts, each one getting that little more explicit than the last. By the time we actually get together, the anticipation is often so intense that no foreplay is actually necessary; I’m literally ready to do them on sight.

Clearly, this may not work for everyone, but if your partner is amiable to such things, try it, the results may be surprising.

4. Cock
Yes, so finally we get there, the “main event”. I think there’s a lot of truth to the adage about it not being what you’ve got but how well you use it. For me, a nice length is between 5½” and 7½”, but so long as I can feel it going in, I’m happy. If it really has to be ‘big’ I prefer thicker to longer.

The worst shag I ever had was with a guy who had a bigger than average cock. I think he was more concerned that I should be impressed with his size rather than his ability. In the end, it hurt and was all over very quickly. It may have been good for him, but it did next to nothing for me.

In an ideal world, I’d take size and technique (actually, I have that with Master C) but, failing that, I’ll settle for ability. Size on its own just doesn’t do it for me.

That said, however, it’s important that it isn’t just your cock that you are using. The reality is, for best results (for the woman anyway), the cock has to be used in conjunction with all of the others. I know, when you’re plunging into the warm wet confines of her cunt, or she has her lips wrapped around your shaft, that your concentration may be a bit vague (note earlier comment about insufficient blood supply), but don’t lose sight of the fact she should be enjoying it too; if in doubt, ask. Don’t forget to keep up the touch too, much as she may be (and she probably is) enjoying your cock stretching and filling her, remember the other bits too. I love having my boobs licked, sucked and caressed during sex and I’m pretty sure most other women do as well.

Depending on the position employed, use your hands to touch those bits of her that she likes to have touched (for me, back of neck, small of back, bum and inner thighs. If she likes it when you talk dirty, do that (within reason). And, above all, don’t forget to keep kissing! If you aren’t face to face, kiss whatever bit is in reach of your mouth.

OK, so it won’t be like that every time. Sometimes, what we want is a wham-bam-thank you-ma’am quickie but, if you take on board what she wants and respond to her needs and desires, the results will be worth it.

Who said we women weren’t demanding? Oh, that’s right, no one.

#WickedWednesday

The best way to wake up


When it comes to sex, I’m a bit of an any time, any place, anywhere kind of girl but, for me, there is no nicer start to the day, than to have Master C slowly wake me up, His hands caressing my body, the hardness of His early morning erection pressing against me as He spoons me from behind.

I wake up, all tingly as His hands cup and caress my boobs. I part my legs slightly so that He can run a finger along my cunt, feeling my warm moistness.

I stretch and roll on to my back, my legs apart as Master C moves on top of me, kissing my neck, nibbling my earlobe as His lovely thick, hard cock slides slowly into me.

From there on in, it’s automatic; Master C starts slowly, tenderly, lazily fucking me. Then, as the sensations mount, His strokes become imperceptibly faster, harder. I pull my legs back as He slides in deeper, with every thrust our need becomes increasingly urgent.

Before long, His cock is pounding me, pinning me to the bed; I feel the first stirrings of my orgasm awaken.

The sensations grow, my cunt quivers, His breathing deepens as we move inexorably closer.

I come, clutching at His back, pulling Him tightly against me as my cunt grips His cock tightly.

Master C begins to moan, His body stiffens, I can feel His cock pulse inside me.

With a final thrust, moaning “Morag! Oh Morag!” Master C erupts. His warm cum floods my cunt as He collapses on top of me, pinning me beneath Him.

We lie there, our hearts pounding, our bodies still joined, savouring the sweet, drowsiness of our early morning passion.

Yes, there is no better start to the day.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday