Friends reunited

As I mentioned in my last post, on Saturday, I managed to meet up with “The Girl” for the first time since September. Our reunion was everything I expected. There were smiles, there were tears, there were hugs, there was laughter and, yes, there were orgasms.

It was lovely to simply see her and talk to her in person again. Yes, we have kept in touch, but Zoom calls don’t quite do it. It was, however, pretty obvious from the outset that we were not going to be restricting ourselves to chat. From the very first peck on the cheek, the first hand on the other’s arm or shoulder, we both knew exactly where this encounter was heading.

So, not to beat about the bush, as it were, things moved in the direction we both knew they were moving and ended up exactly where we both wanted them to be.

Feeling “The Girl’s” body next to mine again, feeling her skin beneath my fingers as her hands caressed mine was simply wonderful. From the first kiss, we just melted into each other and let nearly 9 months of pent up hunger for each other fall away.

Fingers tickled and teased. Lips kissed and explored. Teeth nipped and nibbled. Tongues flicked and licked. Orgasms ignited, subsided and flared again.

It felt so good to taste her and to taste me on her. The scent and taste of her cunt was intoxicating as I feasted hungrily upon it. The intensity of the sensations as her fingers twisted inside my cunt, and her tongue tormented my clit was simply divine.

The last 9 months were simply stripped away as we took each to the heights of orgasm again and again; sometimes using our fingers to tease each other’s cunts, sometimes using our lips and tongues to drive each other wild.

Time, such as it had any meaning at all, was measured in heartbeats, in kisses, in sighs and moans, in climaxes and cuddles and it all felt so right, so wonderful.

Afterwards, at home, Master C, as I knew he would, required me to recount every detail; making me relive the events of the afternoon and evening as I told Him everything. Occasionally He would require more specific detail. Sometimes He would stop me and do to me the very thing I had just described that “The Girl” had done earlier.

“Did she do this?” He’s ask, pinching my nipples as His tongue beat on my clit. “Was it like this?” He’d enquire as He slid one, then two fingers up inside me and twisted them around. “Did you taste like this?” He’d ask, lifting His fingers to my lips and slipping them into my mouth.

When I’d told Master C all the was to tell, He spun me around, told me to brace myself, and reminded me of the one thing “The Girl” couldn’t do.

He fucked me hard, driving His cock into my cunt with powerful thrusts. Having been taken so tenderly by “The Girl”, it felt so good to be used by Master C; the differences so apparent as He fucked me; the rougher touch of His hands, the firmness of His body, the coarseness of the stubble on His face and, of course, His cock; His wonderful thick, hard cock that was pounding me mercilessly.

As the end approached, He spun me around again and demanded that I took Him in His mouth. For an intense moment I tasted myself on His cock before He filled my mouth with a deliciously think load of cum.

We would fuck again later; Master C eating me to the edge of another shuddering climax, having held me on the brink for what seemed like eternity before finally using His cock to ignite my release as He fucked me beyond my ability to hold on.

All in all, it was a fantastic day and a wonderful way to see in the new month.

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.

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.

Punishment: pain or pleasure?

When Master C  spanks/thrashes me it hurts; it’s supposed to; I’ve been a bad girl and He is punishing me for my misdeeds/misbehaviour and punishment is meant to hurt. So yes, there is pain, but that pain gives me intense pleasure.

Being the wayward slut that I am, Master C is never short of a reason to bend me over, bare my arse and apply whatever measure of punishment, delivered by whatever implement He feels is appropriate for the transgression in question. I never challenge Him on it; it His is right to punish me as He deems fit and I have accepted that my actions must have consequences.

Confession time:

• I have a particular fondness for His belt. I love the sharp stinging pain as it connects with my flesh, and I love the deep, angry red marks that it leaves and that take so many days to heal.
• I have been know to deliberately misbehave in order to provoke a spanking/thrashing.

Yes, the feel of his hand, or the leather against my skin turns me on, but it is so much more than that. The punishment is, for me, a redemptive act; it is a way of not just earning Master C’s forgiveness, but knowing I’ve earned it. Every time I’ve “failed him”, whether it be not sucking His cock to His satisfaction, to fucking some random guy I fancied in the pub, I know that with every stinging, burning slap or lash, that  Master C is forgiving me as much as He is punishing me.

The mark of Master C’s forgiveness, the badge of His care for me, the sign of His instruction, is the burning red  glow of my well skelpt arse.

So yes, it hurts, yes, it is a pain, but it is a beautiful, restorative pain with an intense deeper meaning that brings me so much pleasure and reassurance.

Cheating

I’ll be the first to admit that monogamy has never really been my thing. I have also written before about the fact that, when it comes to casual sex, I couldn’t care less if the guy I’m fucking is in a relationship or not. If I’m fucking a guy and that guy happens to be cheating on his significant other, that is their issue, not mine.

But what about my own “behaviour” on this front?

Well, it’s true, I do fuck other guys. I’m not just talking about “The Other Guy”, I’m talking about casual sex with random men.

Is this cheating?

Some would say that it is. I can understand why they would think so. After all, I am in a committed relationship and I am fucking other guys. What’s more, I am fucking other guys whom I don’t even know, I’m just attracted to them at some primal sexual level.

But, and here’s the thing, within the context of my relationship with Master C, so long as I am honest about the guys I fuck, and so long as I am willing to accept the consequences of fucking other guys, then I am free to fuck whomever I like.

For me, it is not the fucking that constitutes cheating in our relationship, it would be not being honest about it. In any relationship, but especially in a poly/non-monogamous relationship, trust and honesty are paramount. While I am free to fuck anyone that takes my fancy, there is an expectation that I will admit that I have done it and, for those occasions where it involves some random guy I pick up on a night out, accept the punishment for my actions.

Now I fully understand that for some, cheating, even where forgiveness and absolution after the fact is sought and obtained, is still cheating. For Master C and I, this just simply isn’t the case. We accept and embrace the fact that sex is an enjoyable act and that, taking the proper precautions, is an act that does not need to be restricted to just ourselves. He allows me the freedom to explore and enjoy my sexual expression. We are open and honest about such things and, if I’m being completely honest, sometimes the punishment He inflicts afterwards is even more enjoyable than the transgression itself.

I guess what I’m saying here is that everyone has different values, and what is right for Master C and me, may, understandably, be completely wrong for others. If you think that my actions mean I am cheating on Him and that I am lucky to have someone so tolerant, then that’s up to you; although I would agree that I am a very luck woman indeed to have someone like Him as my Master.

What matters most is that Master C and I are happy with our relationship; it works for us. We are open, honest, have each other’s full trust and support and no one is getting hurt (apart from my arse when He thrashes me for being a spoiled little slut, but that’s another matter entirely). That, to me, is so much more important than some conventional “morality” based around monogamy.

Is it in the genes?

What is it that makes us who we are? What drives our sexual urges, appetites, and preferences? Is it nature or is it nurture? Is it something completely random?

Take my sister and me, for example. My sister is three years older than me. To all intents and purposes, our DNA is pretty much identical. We’re about the same height, the same build (albeit my boobs are bigger, but she has a nicer arse), we have the same colour hair, and the same colour eyes. We share a very similar sense of humour, and in most respects, very similar personalities. However, when it comes to sex and sexuality, we couldn’t be more different.

That’s not to say my sister doesn’t enjoy sex as much as I do, because I’m pretty certain she does. Nor has she been without her share of sexual partners; although unlike me, all of her partners have been male.

Whereas I am openly and actively bisexual, my sister has no inclination towards girls. She can appreciate female beauty, she is not attracted sexually to other women.

Another difference between us is that casual sex is not her thing. She’s had a couple of flings between relationships, whereas, you could almost say, I’ve had a few relationships between flings.

I know, she’s never had sex with more than one person at a time, and while she isn’t averse to anal, it’s not a big feature of her repertoire; saving it “special occasions”.

One thing we do have in common is our love of giving blow-jobs. Given that I have previously recounted how I almost walked into her, mid-suck, this didn’t surprise me. Like me, she is also a swallower.

We both enjoy our toys, we both enjoy sex in slightly risky situations, we both enjoy it hard and, sometimes, a little rough, but whereas I enjoy a good thrashing from Master C’s belt, and I have some very obvious submissive tendencies (to put it mildly), my sister is much more vanilla in her tastes. She enjoys the occasional spanking, likes to be restrained from time to time, but by and large, kink is just an occasional bit of fun to spice things up. Anyone who is a regular reader of this blog, will know that for me, kink defines what Master C and I do.

So how is it that two people who have the same genetic heritage, have had the same upbringing, be so different. What made my sister the almost model of sexual respectability, while I am wanton slut? What makes us so different in our sexual appetites and tastes?

Oh, and while I’m at it, why is she able to hold her drink so much better than me?.

Just take me…

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m am very much a submissive and I love to be dominated. I don’t necessarily mean in a sadomasochistic/bondage kind of way (although, I’m not averse to being restrained on occasion), but just that I like to be taken in a way where when Master C does things to me, it’s simply because it’s what He wants to do and not because He is trying to respond to what I might want. In these situations my pleasure derives solely from the fact that Master C is taking His pleasure from me, doing what He does because He wants to and is enjoying it.

There’s something decidedly primal about it. It doesn’t have to be rough (although it often can be, and that’s fine too), it’s just knowing that Master C is going to take me and do to me as He pleases, and I just have to take whatever is dished out.

It’s the knowing that, when Master C sucks on my boobs, it’s because that’s what He wants to do, and not because He knows I like it. When Master C forces his cock between my lips, into my mouth and deep into the back of my throat, chocking me with its fullness as His strong hand tightens around my neck, it’s because He wants to feel my throat tighten around the swollen head, starving me of oxygen. When Master C sinks his cock into my cunt and begins to fuck me, it’s because of His sexual urge, His most basic need. In that particular moment, the fact that it’s me that Master C’s fucking is immaterial, all that matters is that His cock is inside a tight, warm, wet and willing cunt and that He is going to keep fucking it until He comes. It’s the fact that no matter how caring and considerate a lover Master C is (and believe me, He is usually very considerate), at this particular moment, He is being driven by His own ‘selfish’ sexual desire; my needs are of no consequence and that I’m simply there as a means to facilitate His desire. I am there to yield to Him, to give myself to Him utterly, to receive Him and to be used by Him.

It’s the knowing how much Mater C is enjoying having His way with my body that gives me my pleasure (that, combined with the fact that I’m still getting a bloody good seeing-to). I may not always come in these situations (but I frequently do) but it still leaves me with a deep sense of satisfaction; to have been taken so utterly, so completely, to have been used for His fulfilment, to have Him collapse on top of me, breathless and drained, pinning me beneath Him, His cum warm inside me or on my skin.

Don’t get me wrong, I like tenderness, I like consideration, I love the deep emotional connection of mutual pleasure, but sometimes, what it all boils down to is, I just want to be fucked and I know I can depend on Master C to do just that whenever the urge takes Him.

On my knees

Whether it’s facing Master C, ready to take His cock in my mouth, or facing away, bracing myself, ready to feel Him in my cunt or arse, I spend a lot of time on my knees.

When I’m sucking His cock, I love to look up at Master C, making eye contact as I take Him deep into the back of my throat. As I kneel between His legs, Mater C puts His hands on my head and forces His cock deeper. I look up through my lashes and see the look of hunger in His eyes.

Turning away from Him, I brace myself, waiting for Master C to take me. The anticipation grows as His hands grip my hips, peaking as I feel the head of His wonderful cock press against the entrance of His choice. My body moves as Master C plunges into me. Sometimes He grabs my hair, pulling my head back painfully, at other times, He’ll push me forward, forcing my face towards the floor as He fucks me with long, hard, forceful thrusts of His magnificent cock.

Of course, it’s not just about blow-jobs and fucking. I kneel to receive His spankings, I kneel when I await the bite of His belt on my arse, I kneel when I thank Master C for my punishment.

I spend a lot of time on my knees, and I love every moment I spend on them.

It’s as if he hates me

Sometimes I like to be abused. When Master C calls me a filthy little bitch, or a dirty whore, punctuating His words with slaps across my cheeks that bring tears to my eyes and set my cunt juices flowing.

When Master C bends me over his knee, yanks my knickers down and spanks me hard until I cry, I get a warm feeling inside.

When His belt cuts into the skin of my arse cheeks and Master C tells me that I’m a worthless slut who deserves to be punished, my desire to feel His cock inside me grows.

When Master C rams his cock forcefully down my throat, making me choke and splitter, I can’t wait to taste His cum.

As Master C fucks me hard from behind, abusing my cunt or my arse, I love it when He tugs my hair, pulling my head back as far as my neck will allow. All the time He fucks me, He’s telling me how I’m just a collection of holes to be used, abused and filled with cum.

When Master C comes all over my face, degrading me, showing His utmost contempt for me as He wipes His cock in my hair, I know I am His, and that I belong to Him.

Later, as Master C holds me close in bed, His strong arms enveloping and protecting me, I am grateful to be His.

Yes, I love it when Master C fucks me like He hates me.