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

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Lazy lie-ins


Nothing beats a long, lazy, lie-in at the weekend, or when you are on holiday. There’s something special about knowing you don’t have to get up. Instead of being awakened by the shrill chime of the alarm, I am instead roused from my slumber by Master C kissing the back of my neck.

His finger traces a line up my side, then around the curve of my breast. I sigh and squirm against Him, feeling the warmth of His body against mine, His hard cock pressing against the curve of my arse.

His fingers seek out my nipples. As they stiffen, my cunt begins to grow moist.

I stretch and roll on to my back. I turn my head to face Him and Master C kisses me lingeringly on the lips, before starting down my neck.

He plants kisses on my boobs. He teases my nipples with His lips, His tongue, His teeth. It feels so good, my cunt grows wetter; Master C begins to move lower.

I spread my legs. He moves between them. Master C kisses the insides of my thighs. His breath is hot on my moist lower lips and I long to feel His tongue slide between them.

He teases; torturing me, making me beg for His tongue until Master C finally relents and shows me mercy.

It feels so good as He feasts on my cunt; not too rough, not too gently. My body responds as His tongue works its magic.

I come. Master C continues. I come again. I surrender to the sensations as they wash over and through me.

And then Master C is inside me; His lovely thick, hard cock filling and stretching me.

He fucks me, slowly but firmly. My cunt grips His cock as he moves inside me.

The pace increases. The force of His thrusts mounts as Master C fucks me harder.

The pressure in Him builds. Master C slams His body against mine, driving His cock in hard. I long to feel His release, feel His cum flood my cunt. I know it won’t be much longer.

His breathing quickens. I can feel His heart pound. He can’t hold back any more.

His cock erupts. He softly moans: “Morag! Oh Morag!” as He unloads inside me; flooding my cunt with a lovely warm, thick load.

Spent, Master C slumps on to me, pinning me beneath Him, His cock still twitching inside me as I wrap my arms around Him and hold Him close.

Finally he pulls out. We snuggle together. We doze for a while in each other’s arms.

We rouse a while later. Should we get up? Maybe, not yet. There is no need. With that in mind I kiss Him, my hand seeks out His cock, as I decide I’d like Him to do it to me all over again.

Kink of the Week

Think of a number


Think of a number. Now double it. Subtract the day of the month your birthday falls on. Divide by your bra size/inside leg measurement. Add forty-two. Round to the nearest whole number.

Yes, this is my take on that perennial old chestnut: “The Number!” You know the one I mean; the one about how many people we’ve had sex with.

It’s a question that comes up from time to time and, it seems, it is one that we are endlessly fascinated with.

Personally, I’m in the mildly curious but generally couldn’t give a fuck camp. It’s an interesting insight into the person you are currently fucking, possibly a handy bit of trivia to store away for those Mr and Mrs type quizzes, but, otherwise not important.

The problem with it is, that when you start thinking about it, it’s not actually a straightforward question.

What exactly counts as a sexual partner?

If you limited it strictly to men and women that I’ve fucked, and if you give me some time, I could probably work it out. It would, however, take me considerably longer than it took Andie MacDowell’s character in Four Weddings and a Funeral. But then, you see, I’ve included women, and I haven’t had penetrative sex with women, only oral and finger play. So does than mean that I also now have to include all those men with whom I have only ever sucked their cocks? On the assumption that it does, then I have no chance at all of determining the total; given that my penchant for the drunken, random, back of the pub blow-job means that I really don’t know.

Still, even if I could, somehow, divine the total number of men who’s cocks I’ve sucked and add it to the number of men I’ve fucked (eliminating any duplication as I go), and then add on the women I’ve had sex with, does this give me my number?

What about the lad I jerked off at a friend’s 16th birthday party? What about the boy in my class whom I let thoroughly finger me so I could scrounge a cigarette off him when I was at school? What about that boy that first kissed and sucked my nipples and made me feel oh so good when we were both horny teenagers, even if I didn’t actually come? What about…?

You see my point though. Clearly “the number” does not simply refer to penetration. If it did, then I would have had no female sexual partners, and I most certainly have had sex with women. But, if sexual partners are not limited to those that you have had penetrative sex with, where do you draw the line?

Orgasm perhaps? Well maybe, but does that mean if I don’t come, I haven’t had sex? No, surely not. On the other hand, does the boy who snuck his hand up my top to cop a feel while snogging me at a school disco also count? Again, I don’t think so (although, had I not wanted him to do it, it could possibly have counted as sexual assault).

So, given that I can’t suitably define what a sexual partner is, how can I possible tell you how many I’ve had?

Let’s just say I’ve had rather a lot and let it go at that…

#MasturbationMonday

Taking Him in hand


Let’s be honest, there are times when our body lets us down; we’re tired, stressed, or, God forbid, just not really in the mood for sex. Yes, I know it may come as a shock, but even the most insatiable sluts sometimes have their off days.

Of course, just because we aren’t really up for getting down, it doesn’t mean we can’t still give Him a good time.

The good old hand-job often seems like a neglected act in a couple’s sexual repertoire, which is strange given that, if you are like me, it was probably the first overtly sexual act that a lot of us women (or girls as we were back then) ever performed on a guy. Long, long before I lost my virginity, and before I became the cock-sucking addict that I am, I loved stroking guy’s cocks. I loved making the guy I was with hard, making him lose control, and eventually firing off a load. It was such a hot experience just knowing that I could do that to a guy and, even though I moved on to “bigger and better” things, it’s still something I love to do.

I’ve said before how much I enjoy being responsible for getting a guy hard. There are times, either as a result of one or more of the reasons listed above, or simply because I want to do something nice for Master C, when I will fall back on this most wonderfully simple method of pleasing Him. There is something extremely gratifying knowing that what I am doing the cause of that reaction as His cock responds to my touch; getting longer, thicker, stiffer. I love how Master C reacts when I touch Him in different ways; stroking His shaft, teasing the tip, playing with His balls, running my fingertip over His frenulum. Each touch elicits its own response. The sigh, the moan, the involuntary flinch, the sharp intake of breath.

As I lie beside Him, my hand sliding up and down His shaft, I love to feel the tension in His body build as His pleasure increases.

Again, as a submissive woman, I love the reversal of control. I can decide how much to tease, I can decide when to let Master C cum. I can speed up, slow down, I can change the pressure of my grip, concentrate on another area. Each action of mine has its corresponding reaction. The laws of physics apply to sex every but as much as they do everywhere else.

Sometimes, as I stroke those lovely, hard, proud inches of flesh, I like to tell Master C naughty stories; encounters from my past, trysts with other men or women, things I want Him to do to me, things that remind Him of what an insatiable filthy little slut I am. I know the effect this has on Master C; I know how much my words turn Him on.

As His climax nears, I love the way His cock swells and pulses in my hand. I love the way His lower abdomen tightens. I love the way His breathing strains as Master C does everything He can to delay the inevitable.

Where should He cum? For once, the choice is mine. Do I let Him fire his load into the air, letting it fall where ever it lands? Do I aim His cock so that His eruption lands on my skin, allowing me to more fully savour His moment of release? Do I move, place the tip of His lovely straining cock at my lips so Master C can fill my mouth with His rich, creamy essence?

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter; I go with what feels right at the time. The important thing is not the manner of His final explosion, only that I have brought Master C there; pleasured Him, served Him. His release is my reward and when Master C moans my name, when the pent-up tension drains from His body, when He gathers me to Him and holds me in His strong arms and calls me His “good girl”, I know Master C is pleased with me, and that’s what it was all about.

#MasturbationMonday Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

It’s not just about orgasms


It’s probably just as well given the ephemeral nature of the female orgasm. Sure, some of are lucky, some of us come quite easily, some of us enjoy multiple ones, some of our orgasms go on for ages (compared to guys, whose tend to be over in a few quick spurts); but even for the least orgasmically challenged of us there are times when it just doesn’t happen. Sometimes we’re not really in the mood, other times we’re just not turned on enough, sometimes were just having sex because it feels nice and we’re not that fussed. As women, we’re probably all familiar with this, it happens, but actually, just having sex is enough for us. But sometimes, occasionally, there is that most frustrating on non-orgasmic situations: the orgasm that got away…

We’ve all been there, I’m almost certain of it. There’s the feeling of anticipation, followed by the intense arousal as our lady-parts grow flushed and increasingly wet. Then there’s that long plateau phase, where the things he (or she) is doing to us feel so good you don’t want them to stop. The sensations grow more intense, you can feel yourself surrendering to the feelings that are so nearly overwhelming you, you’re on the very cusp and then…

  • The cat chooses that moment to jump on the bed;
  • Your mum phones;
  • One of you sneezes/farts or has some other bodily exclamation;
  • He/she changes position, trapping your hair/boob/other part under his/her elbow causing intense unexpected pain; or
  • A host of other possible things that knock you off your stride.

And then it’s gone, and no matter what he/she does, unless they are a miracle worker, it isn’t coming back. Even for those of us for whom climaxing is relatively easy, the very fragile of our orgasms means that we will experience this at some time or another.

For guys, most of the time they generally seem to just be able to carry on until its done, for us however, we just have to resign ourselves to the fact that, this time, it isn’t happening and just enjoy the rest of the fuck.

Fortunately, we enjoy being fucked regardless of whether or not we come. Yes, orgasms are great and ours are every bit as important to us as guys’ orgasms are to them, but really they are the chocolate coated cherry on the icing of the cake.

Great sex is all about making us feel great. Granted, nothing achieves that more than an orgasm (or two, or more), but the truth is orgasms during sex are a bonus, and if we don’t have one during, we can probably dig out our favourite toy and beat one off in pretty short order afterwards; secure in the knowledge that we’ll probably be able to have a couple more before he’s ready again.

The fact that sex is something that can be enjoyed even if, sometimes, orgasm can be elusive is something that I am definitely grateful for.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Variety


If you have read this blog, you will know that I am a fairly adventurous slut. I’m generally in the mood for trying new things and, when circumstances allow, fucking new people. That being the case it’s probably no surprise that when it came to this week’s questions, I’ve probably tried (and usually enjoyed) most of them.

Tickling
I am extremely ticklish and, I absolutely hate being tickled; particularly my feet and my lower back, but really, just about anywhere. Master C is, of course, aware of this, and delights in using it as a way of tormenting and torturing me. Usually He just uses his fingers, it doesn’t take much to set me off, but other items have included feathers an upholstery brush, woolly gloves, and even the plastic bristles of an old hair brush (the reverse of which was used to spank me when I complained too vociferously about the tickling).

HATE being tickled and yet, when Master C does it to me, I am powerless to resist; I simply have to endure it until He decides to take pity on me and do something else instead.

Food
It can be fun. I’ve had Master C pour melted chocolate over me and nibble it off. I’ve licked chocolate sauce and cream from His cock. He has licked ice cream from my cunt. The most intense experience was when Master C turned me into what He delighted in calling a “Morag Sundae”; hot chocolate sauce on my nipples, ice cream on my cunt. The contrast between heat and cold was mind-blowing and when you factor in what Master C did with His tongue, well, I’m sure you can imagine.

Heat/Cold Play
Well, the food bit above covers that off, but I also enjoy wax play. There’s just something delicious about feeling the heat on my skin, and the way it pinches as it cools and dries. Then there’s the pain as it pulls the fine hairs out of their follicles as it is removed. As someone who has a thing for pain, this is a bit of a double whammy for me. The initial burning heat of the wax and then impromptu depilation.

At the other extreme, ice on my nipples is truly wonderful. In fact, ice being trailed anywhere over my skin is a delightful experience, but when it touches those really sensitive bits, my nipples, my labia, my clit, it sends lightening bolts shooting through me. Having my cunt licked by someone who is sucking on an ice cube is one of the most wonderfully pain/pleasure filled things I have ever experienced.

Blindfold/Restraint
I’ve bundled these together as, so often, they are things that are done at the same time. Being restrained puts me completely at the mercy of the other person; I am completely helpless and vulnerable. Add a blindfold so I have no idea what is about to happen or who is about to do something to me (especially in a group play scenario) and I’m almost certainly going to be wetter than a rainy weekend in next to no time. I love that feeling of helplessness. I love the fact that whoever I am with can do whatever they want with me and to me. I love that I just have to accept that I am about to be used (or not) for the other person’s pleasure and there is nothing I can do to influence or prevent what might happen.

Spankings/Discipline
I mentioned being spanked up above and I have written about discipline many times. It ties into my identity as a submissive and it plays to the pain lover in me. Being punished isn’t about play or spicing things up, it is an essential part of my dynamic with Master C. I am allowed to be the slut I am because there are consequences that I accept. That’s not to say I won’t go out of my way to earn myself a spanking/thrashing; I absolutely will. I love the feel of his hand or his belt marking my skin. To me it’s a reaffirmation of his claim on me and that is something to be cherished.

Casual/Random Sex
Yes, if I really want to “spice” things up, there’s nothing that gets me going more than knowing that, if I want to and am prepared to accept the consequences, I can fuck whoever takes my fancy. I’m not sure if I’m ever going to grow out of the thrill of being dragged into a dark alley behind a pub/club and sucking a total stranger’s cock, or having him fuck me in a doorway; especially when I know that Master C‘s belt will await me when I confess my transgression later.

Being a Slut
I’ve said it before, but I am a slut. Specifically, I am Master C‘s slut. He allows me to explore and be who I am. Really, that is all the spice I need.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Keeping it casual


I have it on the very best authority that we redheaded girls are insatiable, immoral, wanton sluts. Certainly, I will admit that I’ve never had difficulty keeping emotional attachments out of sex. Yes I love the additional element of having sex with someone I love, but I also love the purely physical sensations of a good fuck.

Whilst I can’t say that I’ve never had a “Fuck Buddy”, I definitely have “Friends With Benefits”, friends with whom I have sex with on a fairly regular basis; the most notable being “The Girl” and “The Other Guy“.

These friendships have, so far, lasted several years, so in that respect, they count as long term; and while I have strong bonds with them (some more than others), the only place I seek the emotional, companionable support of a partnership is with Master C.

I enjoy fucking. I enjoying fucking and being fucked by other people. I make no bones about it, I am an insatiable slut. But while I love being with my FwBs for what they do to me and how they make me feel sexually as both a lover/partner and as a woman, the only one I love is Master C; he is the one I simply could not be with out.

Quite simply, as well as being my Master, He is my rock, my soul mate, my world. I maybe an insatiable slut, but I am also an incurably romantic slut. Yes, I “love” my FwBs as friends, but if you took away the sex, they would still, in most cases, be friends. With Master C, there is the full package of intimacy; physical, spiritual, emotional, intellectual and sexual. It is, perhaps, because of this, knowing that I have all this, that I am able to enjoy sex with others without fee of any other entanglement, and just concentrate on enjoying the sex.

As for one-night stands, well, I’ve recounted my experiences of these often enough for it to probably go without saying that these are something else that I enjoy and that, luckily for me, Master C allows me the freedom to enjoy so long as I am prepared to accept the consequences of letting my cunt do my thinking for me.

I am particularly fortunate that I am able to enjoy these side relationships, both with my long-term FwBs and my random one-nighters. I am, however fully aware that I can only have these as added benefits within the context of a strong, fully bound together primary relationship with Master C.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

We don’t have to take our clothes off


Quickies are great; not just because the can be done just about anywhere, whenever the urge takes you, but because they represent an urgency, a desire, a hunger for the other person that can no longer be denied.

I’ll be honest, it doesn’t really take much to get me in the mood for sex. Sure, long, protracted foreplay with lots of kissing, stroking, slowly undressing, licking and sucking before Master C decides which hole He is going to fuck me in (and if I’m specially lucky it’ll be both) is great. Who doesn’t love a seriously intense session like that. But having said that, when the urge takes Him and He orders me to turn around and lift my skirt because He is going to fuck me there and then, will get me wetter than an Autumn day in Scotland faster than I can comply with His demand.

It might be behind the pub after a night out, in the bathroom at a party, even just when Master C gets home from work and I’m in the kitchen; when Master C wants me, He wants me and He is going to have me.

There is no subtlety, not a hint of romance, it is simply a quick, rough, hard, filthy fuck that leaves me feeling used, but oh so happy. This particularly applies to the random guys that I pick up on nights out. It’s not about romance or protracted foreplay; it’s simply about the urge, the need to fuck that both me and they guy I’m fucking are experience. When I’m bracing myself in a doorway as some guy pounds my cunt urgently from behind, there isn’t any time for niceties (sometimes we haven’t even exchanged names), it’s all about the fuck; his cock, my cunt and the urgent rush to climax.

I love the fact that Master C just can’t keep His hands off me and His cock out of me. I love that He and other men just want to take me and use me. I love being a slut. I love that other men treat me as some sort of easy, common slut  and that Master C makes me feel like His special, filthy little slut, to fuck whenever, wherever He desires. It makes me cheap sometimes, it makes me fell dirty, but it always, always makes me feel desired and wanted. Quickies definitely play to this side of my personality.

You really don’t always have to take your clothes off to have a fucking good time.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

A return to form


As a result of a nasty bout of lurgy that’s been going round, I haven’t been feeling particularly well recently. As a result, you would be definitely correct if you were to say that I haven’t been feeling myself (pun intended).

Well, it seems that my libido may just be making a comeback.

I awoke from a nap this afternoon to find myself, much to my surprise, feeling decidedly randy. It has been a couple of weeks since I last experienced this, so it was very much a pleasant surprise. Given how unusual this has been of late, I decided it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

My nipples responded almost immediately to my touch, quickly becoming sensitive and stiff. By the time my fingers made their way to my cunt, I was so wet that I encountered almost no resistance as I slid first one, then two, up inside me.

My body responded quite readily to the stimulation. A lovely feeling of sexual tension and arousal quickly spread through me. I’d almost forgotten how good it feels.

I took my time, enjoying every slow thrust and twist of my fingers, teasing my clit with my other hand. Muscle memory quickly took hold and I closed my eyes, allowing my fingers to do their own thing, letting my body respond in its own way.

The sensations quickly grew, but my fingers kept up their steady pace, neither quickening nor slowing; now changing the pressure on my clit as it throbbed beneath them.

My orgasm, when it came, was short but deliciously intense, gripping me in its embrace and tossing me like a leaf in a gale. The climax itself lasted no longer than a few heartbeats, but the warm, satisfied afterglow continued for for what seemed like an age afterwards.

It was my first orgasm in over two weeks and FUCK, was it a good one.

I think it’s fair to say I clearly needed it.

#WickedWednesday

Sharing the love


We met Lucy and Pete (not their real names) several years ago through fabswingers (don’t bother looking for us, we are no longer members). Lucy was looking for her first experience of being with another woman and Pete wanted to watch. We exchanged emails, swapped naughty pictures and arranged to meet at a local pub to break the ice.

Pete was in his mid-thirties, about the same age as Master C. He was about 6′, fair haired and not bad looking in a fairly non-descript kind of way. He did have a very sexy laugh however. Lucy was quite a bit younger than us, in her late-twenties, about 5’2″. Short, bobbed, dark brown hair and had just the faintest hint of a Scandinavian accent.

We chatted easily, got on well, and, ultimately agreed to meet up at ourselves at the weekend and “see how things went”.

On the afternoon in question, my preparations were meticulous. I showered, moisturised, made sure I was nice and tidy “downstairs”, spent absolutely ages picking out sexy undies, and a nice outfit that conveyed relaxed and sensual rather than in your face, I want to fuck you, slut. Master C, being a typical male, was no use at all, insisting that whatever I wore would be fine as it wouldn’t be on very long anyway. For my part, I told Him to fuck right off and banished Him downstairs to make sure the house looked presentable and that the drinks and snacks were sorted. Sometimes even the most subservient of sluts have their limits.

I was excited. My cunt had been moist since the moment I’d woken up. I was also nervous. Not at the idea of being with Lucy; I’d been with girls on numerous occasions. No, I was nervous because Pete and, more importantly, Master C would be watching. I’d always made a point of describing my girl-on-girl experiences to Master C in full and graphic detail, it always turned Him on to hear about them, but He’d never witnessed such a thing before. I hoped the reality would live up to his mental images of me. The fact that Lucy had never been with a woman added to my nervousness. I wanted to put on a great show for the guys while ensuring that Lucy had a memorable (for the right reasons) first lesbian experience.

By the time they arrived, I was a mess of nervous anticipation. The guys sat on the armchairs on one side of the room, and I sat next to Lucy on the sofa opposite them. We chatted, drank a little to loosen any inhibitions and made it clear to Lucy that things would only proceed as and when she felt comfortable.

As we chatted, I occasionally stroked her leg. I could feel how tense she was. After a couple of drinks, she noticeably relaxed and, tentatively at first, began to reciprocate. The feel of her hand on my thighs made my breathing deepen, my pulse race and my cunt moisten. Eventually I asked her if I could kiss her. She gave Pete a nervous glance and he nodded his agreement. I touched my lips to hers. She returned the kiss, tentatively at first, but with growing confidence.

As we kissed, I ran my hand up and stroked her boobs through her top. She kissed me with increased passion and I felt her nipple stiffen beneath my palm.

Being the considerate hostess, I suggested that, in her own time, she might want to undress me, at least as far as my undies and, I would do the same to her.

Our tops were first to go, and I encouraged her to explore my skin, partially by demonstrating, and also by telling her how good what she was doing felt. Our skirts were next to go and we continued to explore each other’s bodies with our fingers and lips; me becoming less anxious and Lucy growing in confidence with every kiss and caress.

At some point I removed my bra and wriggled out of my knickers. I figured it would put Lucy more at ease if I were the first one to be fully naked. She complimented my boobs and I invited her to kiss and lick them.

As she did, I helped her out of her bra. I guided her hand between my legs. Essentially, I used her hand to wank myself off, but the effect was the same, as she sucked and kissed my boobs, I came as I pressed her fingers to my clit.

Having had a climax of my own. I removed her knickers and began kissing her, exploring her body with my lips and tongue. I asked if I could taste her. She nodded. I slid off the sofa and moved between her legs. Her mound was smooth and her cunt tasted heavenly.

She came quickly. I like to think I have certain talents in that department, but I suspect the novelty of the situation contributed to the situation. I kept licking and she came again, more powerfully; her juices flowed copiously over my face.

Finally she begged me to stop. I climbed back on the sofa and held her as her body trembled. After a while, I asked her if she would like to do the same to me. With a slight hesitation, she agreed.

For a first-timer, under my encouraging guidance, she did a pretty good job of eating me out. The orgasm she brought me to wasn’t the most powerful I’ve ever had, but it was still delicious.

After we’d finished, I remembered about the guys. They were sitting there, stroking the biggest hard-ons that I had ever seen. Lucy and I laughed about how we’d had all the fun and the guys had had to contend with being our audience.

An idea came to me. It was going further than we’d agreed, but I decided to test the water. I asked her if, assuming Pete was happy, she would like to suck Master C’s cock. She gave her man an almost pleading look. When he smiled and nodded, she kissed me and made her way over to Master C.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Master C with another woman and it was clear that He was enjoying the attention of Lucy’s mouth. I was so aroused that by the time Master C shot his load down Lucy’s throat, I’d fingered myself to another climax.

Master C then offered Pete my services. As I sucked on his cock, I noticed Master C and Lucy were cuddled together, kissing and caressing as they watched me feast on Pete. When he came, his rich thick load flooded my mouth. I savoured every last drop, sucking him dry.

All in all, it was an extremely hot and very satisfying introduction to the world of swinging. The fuck Master C gave me after Lucy and Pete had left was painfully intense and felt so good.

That was the first of many sessions we were to have together with Lucy and Pete until they moved to London a couple of years ago. Even now, we are still in touch and we visit each other when we can. Well be heading down to London later in the year and I know Master C is looking forward to that trip as much as I am.

#WickedWednesday