Facial hair


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#MasturbationMonday

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Déjà sex


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#MasturbationMonday

The sexual spectrum


Someone recently retweeted an old post for a submission to a meme called TMI Tuesday, which I quite liked. The link up date passed a long time ago, but I’ve stolen the questions, and answered them below:

From your life, tell us about an object, experience or idea related to each of the colours of the spectrum.

  1. Red – the colour of my arse when I misbehave and Master C punishes me; either spanking me or, if I’ve been particularly naughty, thrashing me with His belt.
  2. Orange – the colour of the sun as we watched it set, sinking into the sea, from the veranda of our apartment on our recent holiday in Greece.
  3. Yellow – the colour of the sun in summer, beating down on me as I lie naked on a beach, or beside a pool, or in a remote spot in the country, savouring the feelings as its rays kiss my skin.
  4. Green – the colour of the grass and the leaves on the trees in the forest glade that Master C and I often frequent for alfresco sex.
  5. Blue – the colour of the sea, the waves lapping against my naked body as I welcome its cooling embrace as a temporary relief from the heat of the sun.
  6. Violet – the colour of the bruises, inflicted by Master C’s belt; a visual reminder of my necessary punishment.

Bonus: What is the colour of sex?

Crimson – reflecting the surge of blood through my veins, the inflaming of my lips, the darkening of my nipples, the flush of my skin and the throbbing of my clit.

#MasturbationMonday

So long as they have a face…


…I will always have a place to sit.

Make no bones about it, I love having a partner’s tongue between my labia and on my clit, particularly if it is the tongue belonging to Master C. It doesn’t matter whether the other person is face down between my thighs or if I’m kneeling astride their face, the feeling of a tongue and mouth on my cunt is something I will never get too much of.

The risks of me accidentally breaking their nose or of me suffocating the partner in question and depriving myself of their tongue aside, there are good reasons from a purely practical perspective why sitting on a partner’s face is such a convenient position.

For a start, if I’m sucking a man off, once he’s blown his load in my mouth, I can simply just move up his body, straddle his head, lower myself on to his mouth and have him return the compliment.

Alternatively, when I’m on top, fucking him, riding his cock with abandon, it may be that he’s overheating while I still have a way to go. Again, it is so much easier for me to just slide off his cock, move up the bed, plant my cunt on his mouth and have him redress the balance before moving back down and reimpaling myself on him.

Sometimes, if I’m facing in the other direction, while he is mid feast, I can lean forward and either play with his cock with my hands, or take him into my mouth and reciprocate. I mean, let’s be honest,  69s aren’t particularly practical, but they can be fun every now and then. With Master C being at least 6″ taller than me, a 69 is much easier with me on top than it is with Him.

When I’m sitting on  Master C’s or “The Other Guy’s” face, they can reach up and play with my boobs as they lick me. They can finger either of my holes as their tongue lashes my clit. What’s more, by moving my weight around, I can directly control the pressure their tongue applies, giving me exactly the stimulation I want at that particular moment.

The same can be said when I’m having sex with “The Girl”. I’ve sat on her face, she has sat on mine. When we 69, as I am the taller of the two of us, she frequently goes on top.

It’s a very practical position and, as anyone who has ever gone down on a woman will know, it’s actually a lot less uncomfortable for the licker, in terms of not giving yourself a cricked neck, than burying yourself face down between her thighs is.

So, let’s hear it for face-sitting. I don’t care if I’m never going to be able to sell videos of me doing it, or having it done to me, I’m going to go right on enjoying it every chance I have.

#MasturbationMonday The Oral Sex Project

Feel good cuddle fucks


Sometimes I like to have my brains fucked out. Sometimes I like to have long, slow, passionate love made to me. Sometimes though, I just want to have sex; not because I’m feeling randy, nor because I specifically crave the release of orgasm, but simply because it feels so good.

I’m a very touchy feelly person. Master C is equally tactile. Sometimes we have sex, not because we simply have to have each other, but because, at its most basic level, sex is simply the most intimate form of touching.

I’m also a self-confessed cuddle whore. I love the closeness, I love the feeling of protection I get from having a pair of big strong arms around me. Touch, cuddling and sex all fit nicely together.

Now, I like cuddles even when they don’t involve sex, but when they do, it can be fantastic.

It’s not essential that I come. Sometimes I will, and that’s a bonus, but the important thing is that it just feels nice. It’s relaxed, generally slow, no-one is particularly in charge, we’re just simply enjoying each other’s company and each other’s bodies. When, as inevitably, Master C comes, we just hold each other, kissing, caressing and sharing a feeling of intensely intimate closeness and contentedness.

Yes, I know, usually I’m a filthy little slut who likes it hard and rough, but deep down, I’m still a soppy romantic at heart.

#MasturbationMonday

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.

#MasturbationMonday

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.

#WickedWednesday

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?.

#MasturbationMonday

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.

#MasturbationMonday

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.

#WickedWednesday Tell Me About