It’s what I needed

I’m on my knees, bent forward, face pressed against the floor, my wrists bound behind my back. “The Other Guy’s” cock pounds my arsehole, and it feels so good to be being used so roughly by him.

It’s been a couple of months since we last saw and fucked each other. Life gets in the way sometimes. We are making up for lost time.

I’ve already sucked him off; taking a deliciously large load of cum in my mouth; savouring it before swallowing it down. He repaid the compliment by eating me to a series of shuddering orgasms; each one more intense and more draining than the last.

We’ve already fucked twice, the first with him on top, pounding my cunt, hitting me hard, pinning me to the bed with each thrust. Taking me. Using me. Fucking me. The second time was more leisurely; with me on top this time; riding his cock with carefree abandon, impaling myself on those wonderfully thick, hard inches. Him, content to let me do all the work. Me, happy to just let him lie back while I use his cock for my enjoyment.

I cam both times; both as the rider and the ridden; both times savouring the feeling of my cunt tightening and contracting around his cock – those oh so familiar inches of him inside me that feel so different from those of Master C.

The first time, he pulled out and came all over my boobs, then proceeded to rub his cum into their skin as he licked my cunt until he elicited yet another shuddering climax. The second time, I slid off and took him in my mouth, savouring the taste of my cunt in his shaft as I sucked him to a climax.

We rested, cuddled together, using the time to refamiliarise ourselves with each others bodies. Hands exploring, stroking, caressing. Lips kissing; bodies responding.

And now, here I was, being taken again. There was none of the tenderness we’d shared earlier; this time it was raw, it was rough. It had a different kind of urgency to our earlier sexual collisions. Those had been driven from the need to be with each other, the need to feel each other, the need to use and be used by each other. This time it was driven by the need to make the most out of our remaining time. Soon, I would return home to Master C, to tell Him what I had done, to receive whatever punishment it was determined was appropriate for my actions, to pay the price and then to perform whatever acts of contrition I felt would atone for what I was doing now and had already done.

That was still in the future, however; in the now, “The Other Guy” was fucking my firmly and relentlessly in the arse; having declared he needed the extra tightness if he was going to be able to come once more.

As his cock pounded my back passage, I urged him on. “Fuck my arse!” I cried, “Use it! Fuck it! Fuck it hard!”

He grabbed the restraints around my wrists and pulled sharply, lifting my head and upper body from the floor.

“Filthy slut!” he groaned. “Dirty slut who loves getting her arse fucked hard!”

“Yes!” I moaned. “I’m a filthy slut! I love the way you fuck my arse!”

He released my wrists and let me fall forward to the floor again. Grabbing my hips, he pounded harder, his balls slapping against my cunt with every stroke.

“I’m going to come on your arse! I’m going to paint your arse cheeks with my cum!”

“Oh yes, please! I love that!”

The relentless pounding continued and then, suddenly, he was gone. I experienced a wrenching momentary sensation of emptiness and then the sticky warmth of his load as it landed on my skin.

My afternoon with “The Other Guy” was over. My evening atoning for it with Master C was still to come. I was ready to face whatever penalty was required of me. An afternoon spent with “The Other Guy” had, as it so often did, started the process of restoring a certain equilibrium within me, and now it was time for me to return to Master C to complete the process.

Cocksucking confessions

I absolutely couldn’t, even if my life depended on it, tell you exactly how many cocks I’ve sucked. I can absolutely guarantee that there are two that I have sucked, more than any other than any others, and that I still suck both of them at every opportunity that I can and those are, of course, the cocks belonging to Master C and “The Other Guy”. Those two are pretty obvious. Then, of course, there was the cock belonging to my first proper (read sexual) boyfriend, then, of course, there was my bastard, cheating ex, and there were a couple of guys that weren’t boyfriends but were regular “fuck buddies” during my student years.

After that, it all tends to get a bit murky. There are the male participants in our “Sharing Circle” for starters. Then there were the numerous casual encounters of my late teens and early 20s, where I licked, sucked and fucked my way through a swathe of the student population. There were the cocks I sucked when on holiday abroad, where almost no night out was complete without a post-nightclub blow-job and fuck. Then there were the guys I sucked off when I was between relationships, the additional guys I sucked off while I’ve been in relationships, and the guys I’ve sucked while they have been in relationships. Even today, there are still the occasional random, drunken blow-jobs in back alleys. I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating, the times that I am at my happiest, generally involve me having my lips wrapped around a penis at some point during the proceedings.

Why is this? Well, as I’ve mentioned before, I love the sense of empowerment I, as a submissive woman, get through giving head. I love the fact that when a man comes in my mouth, that it is almost certainly entirely down to me (possibly with whatever he is visualising in his mind while I am sucking him, helping him along). For me, knowing that the pleasure he is experiencing is entirely down to what I am doing is deeply gratifying. On top of all this, I love the fact that it’s something that I can do pretty much anywhere and at any time; I don’t need to get undressed, I simply need to unzip/unbutton him, take him in my mouth then tuck him away safely when I’m done.

Of course, not every blow-job will result in me receiving a mouthful of cum. Sometime the blow-job will stop before that point so that the recipient of it can fuck me in the cunt or arse. Sometimes Master C might decide I am not worthy of such a reward and will, instead, unload over my face or boobs. That, of course, is His right and I accept it gladly and, given my whole degradation and humiliation thing, I actually treat such an ending as almost as much of a reward as I do when He fills my mouth with a thick load of cum to savour before swallowing it down hungrily.

With Master C, sucking His cock forms part of my service and devotion to Him. I suck His cock to help Him unwind and relax. I suck His cock to give Him pleasure and, in doing so, bring myself pleasure. I suck His cock when He commands me to do it. I suck His cock when He lets me suck it (and pine for it when He doesn’t). I suck His cock as a means of atoning for misdeeds and transgressions. I suck His cock when He deems it is an appropriate reward. Sometimes, I suck His cock simply because He has one and I want to suck it. Sometimes it can be foreplay, sometimes it can be an event in its own right. The simple fact is, whatever the reason I find myself with Master C’s cock in my mouth, you can absolutely, 100% guarantee that it’s what I want to be doing and that I am enjoying every second of it.

I sucked my first cock when I was 14, and instantly became addicted. I probably wasn’t very good, but the recipient had never had one before so he had nothing to compare it with. I did put in a lot of practice on that cock, particularly during the several months that we were “oral only” before I finally arranged to have him help me discard my virginity. In the intervening years, I have had a lot more practice and I’ve sucked cocks of all shapes, sizes and colours. I’ve sucked them individually and as part of a group. Practice, or so they say, makes perfect. I would never claim perfection, but both “The Other Guy” and Master C are fully appreciative of the cocksucking skillset I’ve developed over the course of the better part of three and half decades, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never had any complaints from the men in our sharing circle or the random guys whose cocks I’ve sucked either.

So, as I said way back at the start of this tribute to tumescence, I have absolutely no idea how many cocks I have had in my mouth. I can say, without without any fear of contradiction, that it is far more than I have had in either my cunt or my arse. I can only hope that all of those recipients have enjoyed having me suck their cocks at least as much I enjoyed sucking them.

The long and the short of it

I’ve mentioned before that blow-jobs are hugely adaptable; there is literally a blow-job for every occasion. Fast and rough, long and slow; as an appetiser, the main course or as an aperitif, there is a blow-job for that.

As always, the type of blow-job will depend on circumstances: your level of randiness, where you are and who you are with will go a long way to determining how that cock is going to get sucked. Make no mistake about it though, when I’m sucking a cock, as much as I am doing for the benefit of the recipient, I am taking great pleasure from it for myself.

At on end of the spectrum is the rough, hard, dirty quickie. Maybe it’s with some random gut who has caught my eye in a pub, maybe I’m with Master C and one or both of us is caught up in an overwhelming rush of randiness. There will often be an outdoor element to this: a dark alley, in a park, on a beach, in the car in the supermarket car park. Alternatively we may be at a party or some other kind of reception and I and the person I’m with have snuck away for a few minutes. The common theme is that there is an element of risk that we could be disturbed/caught in the act. As much as I love to luxuriate in the act of sucking cock, taking time to utilise my full range of talents and skills so that we both extract as much pleasure as we can from the experience, in these situations speed is very much of the essence. Almost as soon as the urge materialises, a (relatively) safe location is found, I am on my knees, and that cock is in my mouth.

In these instances, it is very much a sprint; there is no time for dilly-dallying, all eyes are on the prize and the prize is a thick, warm load of cum in my mouth in the least amount of time possible. There is no time for finesse, no protracted teasing or trying to make the moment last; I am sucking hard on that cock while they often have their fingers in my hair as they thrust between my lips. There is an urgency that arises in part from the initial need and desire and from the proximity to other people, people who could intrude on us at any moment. That urgency serves to increase the intensity of the experience, driving both us us towards that inevitable moment of release; that moment when the dam bursts, the cock that I am sucking erupts, rewarding me with a mouthful of that rich, manly essence.

I savour briefly, then swallow as he tucks himself away. I straighten myself up and then, depending on circumstance, we either rejoin the occasion, or we part and go our separate ways into the night.

At the other extreme, there are the slow and leisurely blow-jobs; the ones I want to wallow and luxuriate in as I give the recipient as much pleasure as they can take over a prolonged period.

An example will be in the evening, when Master C is tired after a long and stressful day at work. As He sits back on the sofa, I’ll bring Him a beer or a glass of wine. I’ll make sure He is comfortable, then kneel between His legs, release His cock from its confinement, bring Him to a state of full harness with my fingers, lips and tongue before getting down to business.

Now there are no time constraints, no fears of interruption; it’s about me using my mouth to give Him the greatest pleasure. It’s a time where I let myself be guided by His responses, the sighs and moans, the involuntary muscle spasms and twitches of His cock. I can speed up and slow down. I get to suck, lick, kiss, caress. I want Master C to enjoy this and, knowing that He is, I enjoy doing it even more.

Long experience means I can read Master C’s responses very bit as well as He can read mine. I can measure His state of arousal through the deepness of His breathing, the timbre of His moans, the twitching and swelling of His cock, the long, drawn out sighs accompanied by shudders as take advantage of His increasing sensitivity.

Whereas in the first scenario, it’s all about getting o the finish as quickly as possible, this time it’s about drawing it out for as long as I can. In the earlier scenario it is over in a matter of minutes, here it ma take half an hour or longer.

The end result in both instances is, however, exactly the same; I am rewarded for my attentions with a lovely thick load of rich, warm cum, which every cock-sucker happily accepts as recognition of a job well done.

So which do I prefer? Well, because I derive so much pleasure from serving Master C, the protracted, drawn out version definitely comes out on top. That said, the cock hungry, cum loving slut that I am, does enjoy the quick and dirty version too.

I guess, really, so long as I have a cock in my mouth and I get rewarded with a thick load of cum to swallow down, I’m ultimately going to be happy in every case.

A moment in time

I was absolutely delighted to see that Quote Quest was returning today. The prompts that LSB sets always make me think and the one chosen to relaunch the meme was no exception:

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.”

― Dr. Seuss

Now, I’m not going to lie, my take on this prompt is tenuous if not downright tangential, but it’s all about interpretation, right?

It starts, as it so often does, with me restrained, blindfolded, with clamps fixed tightly to my nipples. I am utterly at Master C’s mercy; He is free to do whatever He pleases and I have no way of knowing what He will do next.

What happens is, that Master C spends ages using a variety of toys, His fingers, His tongue to take me to the very brink of orgasm and then hold me there for what seems like an eternity.

That is the “moment” that this post is about.

Master C knows my body. He knows its responses. He knows my levels of endurance. He knows exactly how much suffering juxtaposed with pleasure I can take..

The build up is slow, unhurried. The vibrating head of my wand is placed against my clit for a few seconds. Fingers twist inside my cunt as Master C nibbles, licks and sucks on my clit. The clamps around my nipples are tightened. A cold, smooth glass plug forces my arse open.

Each action is deliberate, measured, calculated. Each stroke, flick, kiss, lick is performed to amplify the feelings I’m experiencing, driving me further along the path towards the precipice.

A pause. Agonising seconds of stillness before He resumes His attentions.

Master C’s tongue flicks over my clit. Fast, then slow, then slower, then rapid. The pressure of His tongue changes, increasing and decreasing. There is no correlation between pace and pressure; He uses His tongue with a long-practised ease to keep me off balance.

He studies my breathing, takes note of the subtle changes of flavour on His tongue as He licks me. Fingers coated with my juices are forced into my mouth as the vibrator’s tip replaces His tongue.

Closer, ever close He pushes me. My eyes are screwed tightly shut beneath the blindfold; lights flash and burn behind my eyelids. My clit throbs. Tremors run up through my cunt to grip my womb.

I reach the precipice. I hover on the edge of the abyss. Master C holds me there.

This is the moment; the moment that feels like eternity, the moment where time loses all meaning. I no longer have any control over my responses; that control belongs entirely to Master C. My body has become a finely tuned instrument for Him to play with an effortless virtuosity.

Fingers, lips, tongue; kisses, caresses, licks and flicks; advances and retreats. My body responds; a reaction to His every action. A reaction but never the final one of release.

Pressure builds, sinews scream, nerves aflame, my consciousness detaches and I almost seem to see myself lying there, helpless to do anything but endure and enjoy what is being done to my body.

Time slows in a kind of dilation of sexual relativity. The time between each breath, each heartbeat, each flick of His tongue becomes immeasurable, meaningless in that eternal now.

The dissociation becomes complete. I can no longer feel my body, I simply feel the flows of sexual energy and tension. And still the release of orgasm is denied me.

This is the moment. I am truly on the brink. I can endure no more. With the slightest touch I will be undone. The next flick of Master C’s tongue on my clit, the next thrust and twist of His fingers inside my cunt will be the spark that ignites me. I exist in that timeless void between breaths, between heartbeats between one stroke of His tongue and the next.

In that heightened state I can feel each minute movement as His tongue moves, micron by micron towards the spot where it will release me. So close, so close, and then…

An explosion of light accompanied by a cry of relief. My back attempts to arch up off the bed but restraints hold me in place. Feeling returns with an intensity that tears flood from my eyes. Spasms convulse, the pent up pressure erupts out in one uncontrolled wave. My consciousness reconnects with my physical self, as my brain struggles to reconnect the fragments of the experience and connect them into something resembling a coherent sequence of causes and effects.

Control slowly returns. Master C releases me and comforts me. I am relaxed, I am satisfied, I am made whole again. The time spent on the edge, those moments before release become memories. The intensity of my climax and the blissful joy that now envelopes me is their value, and that value is priceless.

It’s all sex

The current prompt on No True Way is:

Sex means PIV*

Everything else is foreplay, petting, making out, etc

*PIV means Penis In Vagina

I suspect that it will probably come as no surprise to anyone reading this, that the above statement is one that I disagree with pretty strongly.

As recently as my previous post, I wrote about what fucking meant to me. I get fucked in my mouth and throat, I get fucked in my cunt, I get fucked in my arse, Master C fucks me, “The Other Guy” fucks me, “The Girl” fucks me, random strangers fuck me, and I fuck them. It is me that is fucking and getting fucked, the particular hole or erogenous zone in use at any given time is simply the means by which my partner is fucking me at that point in time.

Now, I’ve also written about foreplay. In my view, depending on how you define it, any activity can be foreplay. Kissing, cuddling and caressing can be foreplay. Having my boobs played with can be foreplay. Me sucking a partner’s cock can be foreplay. A partner licking my clit and/or fingering my cunt can be foreplay. At the same time, having Master C walk into the room and sternly telling me to “Bend over!” can, for me, be foreplay.

For me foreplay isn’t any particular act; foreplay is about working on my mind, it’s about getting me aroused and ready to fuck. Foreplay can often be a series of text messages from Master C, spread throughout the day, telling me what he intends to do to me when we’re together that evening. It can be Him coming up behind me and kissing my neck when I’m busy in the kitchen. It can be me feeling the hardness of His morning erection pressed firmly against me as we snuggle together, barely awake in the time before rising from bed to start the day. It can be Him bending me over and thrashing my arse with His belt as I atone for some misdeed.

For the most part, foreplay acts on my mind. That’s not to say there is no physical activity involved, because often there is, but it is the process of turning the abstract into the actual; it’s about flicking all the right switches that move me from a state of being potentially available for sex into actively desiring and needing sex there in that moment.

The form that the sex takes depends largely on who I’m with and the mood we are in. With “The Girl”, it will involve a lot of kissing, caressing, exploring each other’s bodies with fingers, lips and tongues. It may involve toys, and it will absolutely involve fingering and feasting on each other’s cunts. There are no penises involved, but it is very definitely sex.

With Master C, or “The Other Guy”, it may be that all that happens is that I suck their cocks. Often when Master C is tired, I will give Him a long, slow blow-job to help Him unwind and relieve the stresses of a hard day. He might fuck me later, or He might not, but it’s still sex. It may be that Master C, or “The Other Guy” decide that they are only interested in fucking me in the arse. I’m certainly not going to complain; I’m still getting fucked, and it’s still sex. I may have one of my random encounters where all that happens is that I get down on to my knees and suck them off in a dark alley way. That is very definitely still sex. If I am in a threesome and I’m going down on one partner while the other fucks me in the cunt or arse, I am not engaging in foreplay with one while having sex with the other, I am fucking and being fucked by both of them; it is all still sex.

If I were to try and define both in simplistic terms, I would describe foreplay as being about arousal whereas sex is about gratification; they both take many forms and involve different acts depending on the circumstances they are performed in and the person (or persons) they are being performed with.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the feeling of having my cunt stretched, filled and pounded by a cock, but that is just one particular sexual activity. I equally love the same being done to my arse. similarly, I love having my cunt feasted on and I love feasting on another woman’s cunt, and I definitely love sucking cock. All of these, to me, are sex.

I guess, what I’m saying is, sex is simply whatever you decide it is.

TMI Tuesday – On the fly

1. What’s for breakfast?
Well, this morning, it was me. I do like to make sure Master C starts His day well nourished.

2. Three words you don’t want to hear during sex.
“No you don’t…”

3. Stupid shit you shouldn’t do but do anyway. List two.
i. Fucking or giving blow-jobs to random guys in dark alleyways.
ii. Pretty much any of the bratty stuff I do just to feel Master C’s belt on my arse.

4. One thing you love to hate.
Orgasm denial. It feels so great when Master C finally allows me to come, and he torments me so well, but I hate the frustration of just being on the edge and not quite being able to let go. The relief when I finally do is worth it though.

5. Today is a great day for _____ .
Getting my brains well and truly fucked out

Let’s fuck

It will come as no surprise to anyone when I say that I absolutely love fucking and being fucked. It doesn’t matter where or when, I love it. In bed, on the sofa, on the floor, over the kitchen counter, in the car, upstairs, downstairs, indoors, outdoors, my mouth, my cunt, my arse, it doesn’t matter; if it’s fucking then I’m all for it. It is the ultimate expression of me as a sexual being; using my body and having my body used for the most basic, primal gratification of one of humanity’s deepest and strongest urges.

But what do I mean by “fucking”?

Obviously, when Master C, or “The Other Guy”, or possibly some random acquaintance has their cock in my mouth, or my cunt, or my arse, and is thrusting away with carefree, wanton abandon, they are fucking me and I am being fucked. Specifically, my mouth/throat is being fucked, my cunt is being fucked, my arse is being fucked. But fucking isn’t just me having a penis in one (or more) of my orifices; it is something much deeper.

To me, fucking doesn’t even need to involve a penis and it doesn’t even need to involve penetration. “The Girl” and I fuck using just our fingers, hands, lips and tongues. Yes, we may finger-fuck each other, but that is secondary; we were fucking even before fingers ended up inside each other’s cunts.

Fucking, to me, involves the whole range of sexual activity, both penetrative and non-penetrative. It is sex where nothing is held back. It is sex where the participants are fully engaged in whatever they are doing to each other and whatever is being done to them. It is the unrestrained release required to fulfil a deep need. It’s not just about my mouth or my cunt or my arse; those are simply the bits of me that are most actively and directly involved. In away, it is probably being more accurate to say I am being fucked in my arse or in my cunt rather than to say I am having my throat/cunt/arse fucked because it is me that is being fucked, those are simply the means by which I am being fucked.

And that, for me, is the crux of it; I am being fucked. It’s not just a particular hole, it is all of me; it is my body, my mind and my soul. When Master C or “The Other Guy” has their cock in my arse or my cunt, they are using that hole to fuck me; they have simply chosen to fuck me in a particular way.

I realise that this is not one of my more coherent posts; you’d be excused for thinking it was simply an exercise in seeing how many times I can use the words “fuck”, “fucked” and “fucking” in the same post. I’m trying to put an intense set of feelings and emotions into words, and language is such an imperfect medium; some things simply have to be experienced, and for me, nothing beats the experience of a long, hard, uninhibited fuck that satisfies the body and the soul.

He knows me

I’ve written before about how my d/s relationship with Master C often acts as a form of restoration. As someone who provides mental health support, my work is often emotionally draining. The experiences that some people share with me can often be harrowing and there is no amount of training that can fully shield you and leave you untouched by what you hear. My working life is spent helping people deal with the traumas of their everyday lives; lives that they have to return to every time their session comes to an end. It’s a job where “success” is sometimes measured by the fact that someone actually makes it through to come back for their next session. There are always some “good news” stories, but for the most part my job is to listen and provide support as the other person unburdens themselves, albeit briefly, of the suffering and pain they are experiencing. I am not inhuman. Their stories do not leave me unaffected. Emotionally, a toll is extracted.

Sometimes I need Master C to be gentle and soothing. Sometimes I need Him to be harsh, demanding and rough. There are times when I need to be held, caressed and have my hair stroked. There are times when I need to be choked, thrashed and fucked so hard I almost lose consciousness. One of Master C’s many great qualities is that He has an almost instinctive knowledge of what form of attention I am most in need of.

Last night Master C decided that what I really needed was for my arse to receive “six of the best” from His belt and for my throat to be thoroughly fucked. When I received His text message telling me that that was what He had planned for me, a thrill ran through me. I hadn’t appreciated that that was what I needed until I read His words, but as soon as I had, I realised that, yet again, He was absolutely right.

I was on my knees, naked apart from my collar when Master C arrived home. He had me wait while He attended to a few things. My anticipation levels climbing with every passing second that I had to wait until he came into the room and instructed me to bend over the arm of the sofa.

Even then, bent over, my arse exposed and waiting, I had to endure long agonising moments as He slowly undid and removed His belt. He tortured me by pacing the room, an end of His belt in each hand. Occasionally He would pause and pull the belt taught, making a resounding crack as the folded leather made contact. Eventually Master C stopped pacing. He turned to me and asked, “Are you ready?”

I nodded. “Yes Sir.”

“Then count them with me.”

“Yes Sir!”

I waited. long drawn out seconds until I heard that short, sharp swoosh, felt the air move as the belt rushed in an arc towards me, then cried “One!” as the leather bit into my buttocks for the first time.

The second lash bit harder, the third harder still. The fire in my buttocks grew exponentially with each stroke. Each number was increasingly more difficult to articulate, having to be forced past sobs. Never has six been such a difficult number to count to.

After the final stroke, Master C cuffed my hands behind my back and instructed me to lie on my back on the sofa and tilt my head back over the arm. From His pocket, He withdrew a pair of clamps and a squirmed as He tightened them around my nipples.

Taking my head in His hands He commanded me to “Open wide!”

I didn’t hesitate. The swollen head of Master C’s cock passed between my lips. He allowed me to savour it for a few brief moments before He pushed on, sliding His cock inch by inch into my mouth, forcing the head into my throat. He touched my neck with a fingertip, tracing His cock through my skin. My buttocks stung from their recent thrashing. My nipples throbbed inside the clamps. He gripped my neck with one hand, squeezing with a gentle but steady increase in pressure and began to fuck my throat.

Master C fucked me with firm, hard strokes, forcing the head of His cock deep down my throat each time, fucking it in the same way He would fuck my cunt or my arse. My mouth was simply a hole to be fucked like any of my others, my throat there to be filled by His cock.

His grip tightened as the force of His thrusts increased. I struggled for breath, gasping hard each time He gave me a moment’s respite. Saliva dribbled up my nose, into my eyes; His balls slapped my face as He fucked me.

At some point, as I struggled to breath, my throat raw from the pounding it was enduring, my nipples throbbing in agony, I felt a familiar dissociation; a feeling that I was somewhere else, that somehow I was watching this being done to me as well as experiencing it. It was if it were happening to me and yet it wasn’t me because I was watching the scene as it played out.

I became increasingly aware of Master C’s breathing, I could feel the veins in His cock pulse, the print marks His fingertips were making on my neck. I could taste His urgency, sense the increasing tension in His body as He used me.

Master C groaned as He thrust hard, then pulled back. A momentary pause that seemed to last forever passed and then he came, filling my mouth with cum. With my head tilted back and my throat raw, swallowing was hard, but somehow I managed; His rich, thick essence almost acting as a balm as it ran down my throat.

I heard a sharp buzzing. My brain barely had time to resolve what this meant before I felt the head of one of my wands being pressed to my clit. Almost at once, my back arched, I let out a cry that seared my already raw throat, and I came, hard.

Eventually Master C turned the wand off, released the clamps from my nipples, removed the cuffs from my wrists, wrapped me in the soft fleecy throw and held me in His arms. The cares and stresses of several days had been cleansed from my body and my soul. The dissociation subsided, I reconnected with myself. Master C kissed my forehead and stroked my hair; while there. in His strong arms, I consciousness returned from whatever plane it had been to, bringing me back to the here and now, back to the real world.

Going down

Leaving aside those encounters where I’m sucking someone off in a dark alley and where, by necessity, there is a certain urgency to proceedings; generally, my main considerations are comfort and maximising the enjoyment for both me and the recipient.

If you have even a passing familiarity with this blog, you will be aware that going down on a partner is one of my absolute favourite things to do. I’ve written before about the sense of control it gives me, and that is a big thing. Mostly though, it’s about the joy I take from giving pleasure to a partner. There is an inherent selflessness in giving head; you are doing unto your partner while nothing is being done unto you. Yes, I take a lot of pleasure from it, but that pleasure is secondary; it derives from the knowledge of the pleasure I am giving, it comes from knowing that I am entirely responsible for what my partner is feeling and experiencing, it’s the knowledge that their orgasm is entirely down to me.

Yes, sometimes, after a short period to recover, they may reciprocate, but that isn’t necessary. It may be that what I’ve just done is my form of reciprocation for something they have done to me. It might be that sucked his cock or licked her cunt as part of a “larger” sexual experience but, quite often, when I go down on a partner, particularly when I suck Master C’s cock, I do it, because I want to; I want His cock in my mouth and I want Him to just sit/lie back and enjoy the pleasure my mouth will deliver.

So, how do I like to do it? Well, I like to revel in it, to wallow in it; I like to give the task in hand (or should that be mouth?) my undivided attention.

Comfort is paramount; mine as well as theirs. If I’m going to be between their legs with their cock in my mouth or my face buried in their cunt for a prolonged period of time, I want to be comfortable. If I’m going to feel cramp anywhere, the only place I want to feel it, eventually, is in my jaw. Often this will involve me lying on the bed or sofa, but if I’m kneeling on the floor, I have a particularly comfy cushion that I tend to use to protect my knees (I’m not looking to add Cocksucker’s Knee to the list of medical conditions any time soon).

After that, it really comes down to knowing what my partner likes and enjoys. Master C has a preference for me starting slow, with lots of licking and kissing, whereas “The Other Guy” is much more about the sucking and being simultaneously stroked with my fingers. With “The Other Guy”, I tend to concentrate a lot on the very tip, as this is where he is most sensitive. With Master C, the whole head is pretty much equally responsive to my ministrations.

Both men like me to vary the pace. Both men like, occasionally to feel my teeth drag softly along the length of their shaft. Both me absolutely love it when I gaze up at them and make eye contact while their cock is deep in my mouth.

With “The Girl”, she likes slow, but firm strokes of my tongue between her labia, interspersed with rapid flicks over her clit. She likes my to have my fingers inside her as I lick her; sliding in and out and twisting around.

The key for me is to listen to and feel their responses; to be guided by what their bodies are telling me, to be receptive to any particular requests they may make. Master C, “The Girl” and “The Other Guy are all comfortable and ensured enough to be able to express their desires, which makes satisfying them so muc easier.

Of course, my own wants are also important; there are things I need too. There will be times when I want to concentrate on pleasing the head with my lips and tongue. There will also be times when I want to feel it lodged tight in the back of my throat. There will be times when I want to lash “The Girl’s” clit to feed her climax, and there will be times when I just want to lick her cunt at a leisurely pace and savour the taste of her on my tongue.

For me, giving the best head I can is all about being in the moment; I am concentrating entirely on the act and thinking of nothing else. It’s about attuning myself to the other person, reading the signs to gauge their level of arousal and, ultimately, the nearness of their climax. I don’t really have any “signature” moves other than the fact I always give it my best effort. It may be a bit big headed of me to say I’ve never had any complaints, but the greatest compliment is a satisfyingly large load of thick, rich cum in my mouth (or over my face and/or boobs) and the knowledge that they will want me to do it to them again. Nothing makes me a happier slutty little cocksucker/cuntlicker.

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.