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This week’s prompt on No True Way is:

A good girl is always available”

Now, it is true that, within the context of my relationship I am pretty much “always available”, and that if I perform “my services” well, Master C will call me His “Good girl”, but I’m not sure whether always being available, makes me a good girl or whether being a good girl means I am always available.

I suspect, if it’s either, it’s largely the former; largely because I am “availability” means that quite often (although sadly not recently), I am actually a very BAD girl.

I suspect the context to this is it’s not the availability that defines goodness/badness, but the who I am making myself available to.

I freely admit (and have done so frequently on this blog), that I enjoy casual sexual encounters with random men. I’ve possibly mellowed a little as I’ve got older, largely due to having my regular additional partners in “The Other Guy” and “The Girl”, and through our poly “Sharing Circle”, but there is still an element of, if I fancy someone, there’s a good chance I may end up fucking them. This, of course, is why I am often (although currently not nearly as often as I’d wish, to the point that I can currently only think about such things), a bad girl. And, of course, bad girls absolutely have to be punished. Now, because I am an absolute glutton for punishment, my natural inclination to put my “availability” to use means that I am frequently a bad girl. I am, however, also willing to accept responsibility for my misbehaviour, and therefore freely accept whatever discipline Master C chooses to apply. The fact that I accept such discipline from Him, and regularly “thank” Him for His correction by sucking His cock afterwards as a means of showing my genuine contrition for my transgressions, is one of the things that sometimes earns me that coveted “Good girl” appellation.

On the other hand, as I have said countless times, part of my submission is that if Master C wants me, He is free to have me and use me in any way He sees fit, whenever He desires. He is also free to offer me within the context of our “Sharing Circle”, to other members. I am “required” to be available to Master C and to whomever He offers me to. I know that it pleases Master C when I perform my duties diligently and unquestioningly and, pleasing Master C is a very big part of my own pleasure. A large part of being Master C’s “Good girl” is my dedication to His pleasure; it is my duty and one I perform willingly and, as a result, my mouth, my cunt, and my arse are always available when He has a need and/or desire for them.

I’m still not entirely sure if always being available makes me a good girl, but then, perhaps, maybe sometimes I have to be a bad girl to be good.

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All in my mind (for now…)


I spend a lot of time “in my own head”. In a way, this post follows on from the posts I did for both the Creative and Fantasy prompts of the previous weeks.

Obviously, I spend a lot of time engaging in sexual activity, either with Master C or on my own. The opportunities for me to be having sex outside of these parameters currently do not exist, although there is just the faintest glimmer of hope that things might not be quite as restrictive soon.

So, while I can’t actually have sex with “The Girl” or “The Other Guy” or some drunken random, that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine it.

I have, lately, spent a lot of time trying to imagine that it will be like when I finally get to meet my other lovers in person again.

With “The Other Guy”, I suspect it’ll be much like sex with Master C, albeit without the discipline and, given how long it has been since we last fucked, much more urgency. I like to imagine him deciding which of my holes he wants to get reacquainted with first. Does he want to feel my lips wrap around his shaft as I slide them along his length, taking the head of his cock deep into the back of my throat? Is his need to fuck me so great that he simply bends me over, hitches up my skirt or yanks down my jeans, pulls the gusset of my knickers aside and plunges straight into my cunt; gripping my hips as he fucks me long and hard? Does he want the tightness of my arse; to stretch and hurt me as he fucks me? What position does he want me in? On my back so that he can pin me beneath him? Bent over the table or the arm of a chair? On my knees, my boobs swinging free beneath me as he takes me hard? Will he fuck me in the living room? Will me make it upstairs to his bedroom? Will he just take me there on the stairs in the hall; items of clothing scattered at our feet as our bodies become reacquainted.

With “The Girl” it will be different. It will still be urgent, but it will be slower, softer. We will take our time as we slowly rediscover each other’s bodies with our lips, our fingers, our tongues. Our lips will kiss, our fingers will explore, our hands will caress, our cunts will ache with the desire to feel each other’s tongues. Nipples will stiffen as they are licked, kissed and bitten. Moans will fill the room as fingers slip between labia and into cunts. Backs will arch as tongues reconnect with clits. We will tease each other, take each other to the edge, let the tension build into an exquisite pain before allowing our climaxes to ignite. And then, after the glow of our reunion slowly wears off, we will do it again.

As for randoms, well that kind of depends very much on when pubs are allowed to reopen and at what time of the evening they turf us out, but I can imagine myself in some alleyway, on my knees, sucking hungrily on the cock of my chosen object of lust. Devouring him until he comes down my throat. I can picture myself standing in some hidden doorway, bracing myself as some unknown man fucks me urgently from behind. I can feel the intensity as I struggle to remain silent lest my moans draw unwanted attention to our furtive fucking. I can sense the thrill of hearing voices nearby and wondering if we will be discovered.

All of these things play out in my mind when Master C leaves me to my own devices, allowing me to spend time with my toys and/or fingers. For now, these events, these encounters, these “indiscretions” that will allow me to encounter Master C’s rightful chastisement can  only happen in my imagination. I hope, however, that one day soon, the can start to become a reality once again.

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The discovery years


As is, I suppose, the case for may of us, my teenage years were a time of discovery and experimentation. They were the years when the “theory” of sex things were, largely, put into practice. By the time I put my teenage years behind me in the spring of 1994, there really wasn’t much I hadn’t tried. By my 20th birthday, I’d experienced the full gamut from those first, furtive fumblings and fingerings, through sucking, fucking, licking and being licked by both male and female partners, all the way to having sex with multiple partners at a party during my university’s freshers’ week. My teenage years were the years of first times and discoveries of what was simply just enjoyable and what was “Oh my fucking God! What just happened?”

My teenage years were the time of the so called “slut bands”, the multi-coloured string bracelets that me and other girls in my school (and probably countless others) wore around our left wrist; each colour indicating something we’d let a boy do to us: yellow, for having our boobs felt, green for having been fingered, orange for touched his cock, purple for having sucked it, red for having gone all the way. We wore our bands with pride and there was always a feeling of appreciative envy when one of the group added a new colour to her wrist that you didn’t have on yours.

It was also the time where I discovered that something that was just “meh!” with one partner could be amazing with an other, and that similarly something that one partner did that almost required scraping me off the ceiling could, with another partner, be little more than a damp squib.

Those were the years where I learned what I enjoyed, how I liked to be touched, how I liked to be licked, the positions where I could most enjoy the feeling of a partner’s cock inside me, the things that I did with my lips and tongue that my partners enjoyed the most. They were the years of discovering the different ways of how I could give myself pleasure; which worked best when I needed to get off in a hurry and which best suited a long, leisurely session when I had time on my hands. They were the years where I learned about the almost infinite ways in which two or more bodies could fit together to bring pleasure and enjoyment to the participants.

Most of all though, it was a journey where I discovered me as a sexual human being. My sexual tastes, appetites and desires were forged in those years. My love of of sucking a partner’s cock, my love of the taste of another woman’s cunt, my hunger for sex that was just that little bit rougher and “out there” were all born in those years. By the time I turned 20, I was already well on the way to becoming the unrestrained sex-hungry slut I would become before Master C taught me. Casual sex had become my norm. A night out at the Student Union invariably meant going home with a different man or woman, and sometimes more than one, or both; the night often starting before we wound up in whatever room/flat we were heading to.

I went from from curious virgin, to experimental novice and on to seasoned slut in just a few short years. Solo sex, sex within a committed relationship (by teenage standards), same-sex sex, experimental sex, casual sex, risky sex, public sex, group sex, I had done all within a few short years.

Do I regret any of it? No, not really. Some of the individual encounters I had  may have been less enjoyable or satisfactory, but even they were building blocks towards making me the person I am today. Every partner, every fuck, every blow-job, every cunt licked or tongue on my clit, every load of cum swallowed have made me the confident sexual person that I am today.

Under Master C’s guidance and correction, I have become somewhat more discerning and restrained when it comes to my random encounters than I was back in those days and throughout my 20s, but looking back at those early days, I had a lot of fun, a lot of pleasure, a lot of fucks and a lot of orgasms, so I really can’t complain.

Would I do my teenage years differently if I could do them again? Maybe. I might not be in such a head-long rush to try absolutely everything; maybe leaving longer for the novelty of my latest new thing to diminish before seeking the next thing to try, but there’s nothing I’d leave out. And let’s face it, every teenager needs a hobby and as a particularly randy one in the late 1980s/early 1990s, growing up in a remote part of Scotland, there really wasn’t much else to do in terms of recreational activities.

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Guidance through discipline


I’ve touched on this many times in this blog, but discipline/punishment is a very important part of the D/s dynamic that exists between Master C and myself. Punishment helps define boundaries; not to confine, but to determine the “price” required to cross those boundaries. As I mentioned in this post, any corrections that Master C administers, are never delivered unilaterally; I am always required to consider my actions and what the “tariff” for any given transgression may be.

Punishments can, of course, take many forms. There are, of course, the obvious forms of corporal punishment: spanking, belting, caning, flogging; all always delivered to my naked arse, each one with it’s own unique form and intensity of pain, each one leaving a different mark on my skin.

Master C’s hand is usually for the most minor infringements; when I’m being particularly bratty or impudent, or when He knows I’m not trying my hardest. His belt, the flogger and the cane are used for more “serious” infringements. In those pre-covid days where such things were possible, a drunken blow-job with a random might earn me several lashes from the belt, fucking more than one random on the same night out might mean the flogger, and getting publicly fucked in the arse at a local dogging site absolutely  called for the cane.

Knowing the level of punishment I can expect, helps me determine the level I am willing to accept for any one act or transgression. In my mind, I know the level of recompense I am likely to have to pay, and this helps shape whether or not the “act” is worth the “cost”.

But punishments aren’t just corporal.

One of Master C’s favourite alternative punishments takes the form of denial. That can be denial of orgasm for me; where he takes His pleasure from me but forbids me to come. Another form of denial is when He fucks me, or requires me to suck His cock, He will deprive me of His cum. Master C knows how much I love to feel Him erupt inside me, He knows how I consider taking His cum in my mouth to be a reward and He knows how much I don’t like it when He chooses to withhold that from me.

Again, in the pre-covid days when we would get together with other members of our “Circle”, punishment could take the form of me having to watch him being attended to by one of the other women or for me to have to “wear” the cum of one or more of the other men (although having a big degradation fetish, this one never really seems like a punishment, but having it done to me then not being allowed to come myself does make this unpleasant).

Finally, there are those times when I overstep the line, I have gone too far in my misbehaviour, I have provoked Him beyond what He is prepared to accept. In these instances, I am subject to the ultimate punishment and banished to the cage. It happens rarely, but the threat is there.

The point, however, of all of these, is not to prevent me from doing things, but for me to respect the fact that my actions have consequences. They are a form of guidance as much as they are of correction; they allow me a degree of freedom to fulfil my needs and desires, while making me consider their worth and urgency. Punishment, for me, is a form of currency; I can have whatever I want, so long as I am willing to pay the appropriate “price” for it and it allows me to decide if the gratification I would receive is worth the price I would pay (while factoring in that the price is very much a part of the overall gratification).

There is one final form of “punishment” that I have still to touch upon.  This one is much more fun (although, again, current circumstances mean that I haven’t been on the receiving end for a while) and is “the punishment fuck“. It’s not really a punishment per se, and is reserved for when I’ve been with “The Girl” or another female partner. It involves nothing more than, after having provided Master C of a full account of what I’ve got up to with the other woman, He gives me a very thorough fucking, usually precluded by a spanking and almost always resulting in my mouth, cunt and arse all being roughly all being fucked by His lovely cock just to “remind me of what I missed”. With the exception of the watching and humiliation, the other punishments are still very much part of life (although I have to be quite creative to earn some of the harsher corporal punishments at the moment), but I do miss the punishment fucks, and I definitely miss the reasons for receiving them.

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Impulsively bad behaviour


I think I may have mentioned that I am, quite unashamedly, a slut. Promiscuity has pretty much always been second nature to me and monogamy almost unthinkable. Even within the confines and context of my relationship, much of my submission to Him comes from the fact that He allows me to channel my impulsive sluttiness in ways that allow me freedom to indulge that aspect of my personality, albeit in a framework of control and discipline and a need to accept responsibility for my actions.

I’m not sure if engaging in casual sex is necessarily “bad” but in my younger days, it did have a lot of negative connotations. Yes, I enjoyed sex then just as much as I do now. I enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and I particularly enjoyed being caught (and sometimes being the one doing the catching). And while, in the main, the sex was primarily and mainly for the enjoyment of a good fuck, it had a darker side too.

Yes, I enjoyed the anticipation, the teasing, the flirting, the seduction and, ultimately, the gratification (whether it be a drunken blow-job in the pub car park or an all night one-nighter at their place – I almost never took my victims/conquests back to mine). The sex was absolutely about all those things. If, upon a night out, I saw a guy or woman I fancied, the chances are I’d have had some form of sexual liaison with them before my night was finished. Many a quick drink after class/work ended with a “walk of shame” in the early hours for a shower, a couple of hours sleep and a change of clothes before heading back to lectures/work.

But, on top of the thrill and the enjoyment, often I was searching for a form of validation. I wasn’t good at relationships, but I was good at sex, or at least I hoped I was. As much as I crave those times when Master C calls me His “good girl”, I needed to hear how good a fuck I was, how amazing it felt when I sucked a guy off, how much a woman enjoyed me going down on her, how much partners of either sex enjoyed my taste. The validation was almost as addictive as the anticipation and gratification, and the more I received, the more I craved it. I was an addict searching for their next fix.

The irony was that the more praise I received, the less it satisfied me, and the more I needed but, at the same time, the very act of seeking it out had an almost cancelling effect on my self worth. I wasn’t just a slut, I was a worthless slut. I didn’t deserve gratification or validation because I was cheap, an easy lay, the town bike. Of course I could have a relationship because, once they’d fucked me, who would actually want a relationship with someone like me who was emotionally incapable of being faithful.

I’ve come a long way since those days. I’m still impulsive, I still have sex with random men/women on nights out, I still love all the things about these encounters as I did then: the excitement, the recognition and appreciation of me as a sexual and sexy person. Obviously, I still enjoy being told how good I am (or how bad I am if I’m being honest), but now, largely down to Master C’s guidance, nurture and discipline, I fully appreciate my worth, I am good enough. There is no shame to having a high sex drive and in allowing myself to act upon such impulses as feel inclined to act upon. I know now that I am not cheapening myself, I am simply engaging in an enjoyable pastime. I know that such “punishment” as is required will be agreed with and administered by Master C and that any acts of “atonement” will be performed willingly.

And that’s the thing, I’ve alluded to this before but, when it comes to discipline, Master C does not decide unilaterally what form my chastisement will take. As part of the acceptance of responsibility I am required to consider my actions, the seriousness of them and to consider what would be the appropriate “tariff” for the transgression. It maybe six lashes of his belt, it may be a form of humiliation in front of members of our “Circle”, it may be that he denies me an orgasm for a number of days or chooses not to let me receive His load when He comes. It could be a combination of any of these, but we always discuss and consider and ultimately agree what form it takes so I never have any grounds to complain that it is unfair.

Sadly, at the moment, my opportunities to engage in my bad habits are extremely limited and I look forward to a time when I can be impulsive again. Until then, when it comes to incurring Master C’s correction, I just need to be creative.

Head to head


There is a popular belief that when it comes to going down on a woman, those of us of a female persuasion are better than it than men. The theory seems to be that because we women have our own cunts and clits, and know how we like to have them treated, that this, somehow gives us some innate instinct or knowledge of how another woman will want her pleasure spots treated.

This argument is, of course, a complete load of bollocks.

If it were true, then on meeting a woman for the first time, not only would I know all of her turn-ons and desires, I’d also instinctively know what kind of films she likes, her favourite takeaway food and how many sugars she takes in her coffee. Clearly, this is not the case.

All of those examples are matters of personal taste and choice, and the way we women like to have another person go down on us is no different.

In truth, there is only one woman for whom I can say unequivocally and with absolutely certainly as to how she wants her cunt and clit licked, and that woman is me. And given how, depending on my mood, I want it treated in different ways, what chance have I got of knowing exactly what any potential recipient of my attentions is going to want,or vice versa for that matter?

I will let you into a little secret; I cheat…

How?

Actually, very simply…

You see, unless we both go instantly into a 69, one of us has to go first. Whenever I’m with a woman for the first time, I try to arrange thing so that I go second. Why this approach? Well based on the earlier logic, the chances are pretty good that, with nothing else to go on, the things she does to me will, in all likelihood, be the kind of things that she herself enjoys. Now that may seem a little bit contrived, but if she enjoys the experience and thinks I’m a fantastic fuck, then does it really matter?

I have adopted this technique on any number of occasions, and it has never failed me. It doesn’t give me a complete picture of her wants and desires, but it gives me a very good starting point.

Now, I love having my cunt licked out; it makes no difference to me if the person doing the licking is male or female. While I don’t believe one gender is better at going down than another, there are differences to the approaches of men and women .

Its a bit of a generalisation, but men tend to be a bit rougher, a bit harder, more intently focussed on getting us off. Maybe it’s because, in the main, men tend to come more quickly than us women. Women tend to be softer and slower. If there is one advantage a woman has, simply through being a woman, it’s that we know our sexual response is generally slower than that of men, so we tend to take our time more. Another reason is that, for a lot of men, cunnilingus is often a prelude to him sticking his cock in us, whereas for us women, it’s the full thing.

That’s not to say women can’t be rough, and that men can’t take it slowly, because they can. Master C and “The Other Guy” will often spend ages pleasuring me with their mouths; one because they enjoy it for itself, and two, because, through experience, they both know my sexual needs, tastes and moods.

For me, while there are differences in technique between the sexes, there are just as many differences between one member of a particular sex and another, and it is those differences that make it so enjoyable. Master C is great with His tongue, but so are both “The Girl” and “The Other Guy”. Their techniques are different, but they can all turn me into a quivering, orgasmic mess; and that, at the end of the day, is the main thing a womaa really wants from getting her cunt licked

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The cage


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

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

Step one: I am thrashed/birched soundly.

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

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

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

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

And yet, the cage isn’t always bad…

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

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

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Relationship evolution


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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