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

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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 darker shade of subspace


It’s a wee bit bizarre, but I go through spells where my tastes and desires become increasingly dark. I have always had a penchant for roughness. I have always desired to feel used. Such things are not new to me. Sometimes, however, I want it rougher, darker. So much so that the intensity and level to which I want, no, need to be treated in this way becomes almost frightening.

I love when Master C pulls my hair. I love when Master C starves me of air, either forcing His cock down my throat or squeezing my neck with His strong hands; or, better still, both together. Usually this is something that I do because I enjoy it. Sometimes, however, it is something that I actively crave.

I have pretty much always identified as submissive. Subjecting myself to Master C’s will is central to who I am. I accept His support, His tutelage, as much as I recognise His right discipline me when I transgress. I place myself fully in His hands. He is my rock and my teacher as much as He is My Master.

It goes without saying that I trust Him; not just with my life,  but my needs and desires, especially in those times when they turn so much darker. I need Master C to take me to that edge of reality. I yearn to feel His hands tighten around my neck as He fucks my throat. I desire to have Him gather a handful of my hair and tug my head sharply back, bending my neck to its limits as he takes me from behind. I need Him to slap me harder, to thrash me with more and harder lashes of his belt. I want tears. I want Him to command me and use me. I want Him to own me, to take me, to have me anywhere, anyhow He wants me.

Basically, I want to be His filthy, devoted slut and for Master C to call me His “good girl”.

It’s possibly hormone related, but subspace definitely reaches totally different planes of intensity sometimes.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Playing your best hand


If I’m being honest, nothing beats a good, hard, satisfying shag, except a good, hard, satisfying shag that results in a toe-curling orgasm or two. Of course, sometimes a fuck doesn’t result in an orgasm, toe-curling or otherwise, and sometimes we get urges when our partner isn’t there to give us the seeing-to we crave. Sometimes we just have to take ourselves in hand.

When we first discover the joys of wanking, in my case I was 12, there was a furtive, guilty feeling about it that, for me anyway, heightened the pleasure. There was something intensely arousing about furiously fingering my cunt and rubbing my clit, trying desperately to keep quiet so that my parents or siblings didn’t hear me through the seemingly paper thin walls that served only to intensify the power of my orgasm when it took me. I can’t remember how many times I had to feign a bout of coughing to disguise an orgasmic moan that escaped from between my teenage lips.

Whereas, back then, wanking was a guilty secret, shared only with my very best friends, today I’m much more relaxed and open about these things. Let’s make no mistake, I am out and proud: I AM A HIGHLY-SEXED WOMAN AND I AM UNASHAMEDLY PROUD TO BE A WANKER.

Whether you use your fingers or toys or both, whether wanking is a solo activity or something you share with your partner, wanking yourself to an orgasm is one of life’s great pleasures.

I’ve wanked when I’ve been single, I’ve wanked when I’ve been in a relationship. Now that I’m Master C’s slut and can feel His cock in my cunt, mouth or arse pretty much any time I want, and certainly whenever He wants, wanking is still a hugely important part of my life. Usually I’ll wank when Master C isn’t around, often we will wank together, watching each other as we each pleasure ourselves, which is something I find highly arousing. Sometimes I’ll wank Him as He wanks me; me stroking His cock as He fingers my cunt; wanking each other off, playing with each other until first one, then both of us cum.

Orgasms are the most wonderful sensation we experience, whether they are caused by a partner, or they are brought about by ourselves. Sometimes, for us girls at least, wanking is a more reliable source of orgasm than fucking, so when the need arises, relax, settle back comfortably, stick your hand down you knickers and rub one out. You know it makes sense.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

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

Finger fucked at 35,000 feet


I have a confession to make: I am a late 30-something grown woman and I still have a comfort blanket. It’s from IKEA, red and made from a fleecy material. It’s soft, warm, snuggly and I love it.

Well now, that’s all very interesting, but what exactly has this revelation got to do with the subject of this post?” I hear you ask. Well, that’s a very good question, so please let me explain.

When I say I have a comfort blanket, I’m not trying to imply that I take it everywhere with me like some red-haired, adult female version of Linus from the Peanuts cartoon. Usually I tend to snuggle it around me on the sofa in the evenings, especially during winter.

However, if I’m going on a long journey, say travelling for more than a couple of hours, be it on a train, or a plane, or even a long car journey, I like to take it with me so I can wrap it round me and snooze. I am a pretty lousy travelling companion, as any of my friends and or colleagues will tell you, mainly because I tend to spend most of the actual travelling time dozing.

Anyway, this particular incident relates to when Master C and I were flying home from a fortnight’s holiday in Greece. The flight involves being on a plane for the guts of four hours which, naturally, means the blanket came on holiday too, and made an appearance on the flight home as I adopted my customary travelling habit: as the wheels lift, my head goes back and Zzzzz…

Can you see where this is going yet? Is the connection becoming clearer?

At some point in the flight, my slumber was rudely, but pleasantly interrupted. Under the blanket, I felt a hand slide up the inside of my leg and under my skirt. My head was already resting on Master C’s shoulder, but I snuggled in more closely as His fingers brushed the gusset of my knickers aside. Casually, I wriggled a little in my seat, opening my legs as much as it is possible to do in the confines of an airline economy seat, to give Him slightly easier access to his goal.

My juices were already flowing and I had to suppress a moan as Master C slipped his long, strong fingers between my lower lips, teasing the entrance to my cunt.

Whether it was coincidence (highly unlikely), or whether He planned it that way (almost certainly), just as Master C thrust his finger fully up inside me, a member of the cabin crew enquired if we wanded anything to drink. While I feigned sleep and tried not to show any outward reaction to the “come here” motion His finger was making inside my cunt, Master C just calmly informed the stewardess that we were fine and didn’t need anything, thank you very much.

I turned slightly in my seat towards Him, allowing myself to open up a little bit more, and Master C took this as his cue to ram a second finger up me.

Again, I had to fight back the urge to moan. The fact that I was being so masterfully finger-fucked while, less than a foot away, both in front and behind me, my fellow travellers were (I hoped) completely ignorant of what was happening almost under their noses (pretty literally in the case of those in the row behind us) was a huge turn on.

As always in situations where I have to remain quiet, the restraint required to avoid making any sound amplifies the intensity of the sensations. As powerful feelings grew inside me, I had to bite my lip so as not to cry out. At any moment I was expecting a member of the cabin staff to appear and reprimand us for disturbing the other passengers. That too magnified my arousal level.

Master C’s fingers continued their relentless probing. I struggled to contain myself. My fingers tightened on the armrest as the pressure for release grew increasingly stronger.

A convulsive shudder ran through me as I came, my cunt gripping His fingers tight inside me. I wanted to moan, I wanted to cry out, I wanted to give full voice to my orgasm but I couldn’t. To make matters worse, the very act of suppression only made my climax more powerful.

The tremors that ran through me almost had to have been visible if anyone had been looking. They continued for an age, even after Master C’s fingers were gone from inside me. As he extracted His arm from beneath the blanket, and wrapped it around my shoulder, He lightly brushed His fingers against my lips. The scent, the taste of myself on His fingers was intoxicating; I almost came again just from that touch.

Eventually my body settled down and I dozed off again into a very contented sleep.

Later, as the plane taxied to the stand at the airport, the pilot expressed his customary hope that we had had a pleasant flight. I think it’s fair to say that I most certainly had.

#WickedWednesday

Punishment fucks


One of the reasons I enjoy being such a bad girl is that I love being punished. There’s something about the prospect of getting my arse well and truly paddled until the tears flow from my eyes, followed by a brutal, merciless fuck.

Fortunately for me, Master C is always ready to chastise me for my misdeeds. If I’m being brutally honest, I regularly give Him reasons for disciplining me.

Of course, the most severe, and of course deserving, punishment comes from those times that I am “unfaithful” to Him with “The Girl ” or one of my other girlfriends.

Being unable to lie to Master C, I automatically have to admit to these indiscretions, knowing full well that I will be deservedly punished for them.

Usually, I am ordered to strip, to stand there naked and vulnerable as Master C interrogates me thoroughly; gleaning ever last sordid detail of my illicit encounter. As I recount my guilt, He gives no indication of what my punishment will be. Will He let me off with nothing more than sound spanking? Will He use the the paddle with its grooves that bite into my flesh? Or will He decide that my guilt deserves nothing less than the biting kiss of His belt? There is no way of knowing until I have fully admitted my guilt. Because I’m such a depraved little slut, the very uncertainty around my punishment makes my cunt tingle.

When I have fully unburdoned, I take my position, bent over the arm of the sofa and I bite my trembling lower lip in anticipation of what is to come next.

A spanking, a paddling or a thrashing, it ultimately makes no difference. Sometimes Master C will make me count out the strokes as my arse cheeks redden and sting and tears begin to well in my eyes.

Each slap, each stroke hurts more than the last, my sobs become increasingly pain filled, my cunt grows increasingly wet.

Eventually He stops, but the punishment has not finished. Master C begins to fuck me. There is no foreplay. There is no need, my cunt is already soaked. The is no tenderness; Master C simply grabs my hips and fucks me at full force.

As He fucks me, rough and hard, Master C pulls my hair and reminds me that “The Girl” couldn’t give me what He’s giving me now; how she can’t give me a cock, she can’t fuck me, she can’t abuse my cunt or arse the way He is doing.

Of course, Master C is right; my girlfriends can’t fuck me the way He does, they can’t use my body like He does, they have no cock to fill me, stretch me, abuse me with. And, as Master C punishes me, I become grateful for His reminders, I am grateful for His cock, I am grateful that His punishment has made me realise I need a man, I need Him, to fuck me.

Suddenly His cock is withdrawn. Feeling painfully abused and empty, I kneel on the floor before him to await my final humiliation.

“Have you learned your lesson, slut?” Master C demands, slapping my face firmly, yet tenderly with His hand.

“Yes,” I sob, my eyes filled with tears once more.

Master C doesn’t ask me if this is the last time I will stray with a woman, we both know I will; to suggest otherwise would be a lie and we both know it. Instead He strokes His cock, His breathing becomes laboured until finally He erupts, covering my face in a thick load of cum.

Sitting down, Master C watches me as I gather as much of His cum as I can with my fingers before licking them clean.

As I kneel there before Him, punished, abused and humiliated, Master C smiles and gently pats the cushion beside Him, inviting me next to Him.

As I snuggle, still naked, against Him, Master C puts His arm around me and holds me tight and I know I am forgiven, until the next time.

All relationships have their “traditions”; the unburdening of my various transgressions and accepting the appropriate punishment for them is very much one of the central traditions of ours.

#WickedWednesday

Shocks and surprises


The first time I encountered a blow-job face to face, as it were, was an eye-opener to say the least. I’d heard of such things of course but, frankly, to my then 14 year old mind, it seemed positively disgusting and I was certain that nobody I knew would ever do anything like that. I was, of course, wrong; totally wrong; and the manner in which I discovered how wrong I was made it even more shocking.

I hadn’t meant to pry. In fact, I hadn’t even been aware that my sister was in the house, let alone that she had company. My honest and simple intention had been to retrieve a CD that she had ‘borrowed’ from me a couple of weeks earlier and which I now wanted back.

In their defence, they were being very quiet. Apparently they had thought that so long as they didn’t make any noise, then I’d never notice them over the noise of the music I was playing. Well, they were almost right, I guess…

I didn’t actually go into her room. They had kept the door open just a little in the hope that they might hear any approaching interruption (i.e. me, or perhaps mum coming home). However, it seems that their precautions were totally inadequate.

My sister, you see, had a big, full length mirror on her bedroom wall quite close to the door. All I did was push the door open just the tiniest bit more than it already was and I was confronted with the image of my sister, sans top, sliding her lips up and down her then boyfriend’s cock.

Now, if this were some porn story, I’d now regale you with how I stood there transfixed, touching myself and getting all turned on until I betrayed my presence with an orgasmic moan. The truth is, however, that as soon as I recovered from the shock, I beat a hasty, albeit quiet, exit; my CD totally forgotten.

Thinking about it afterwards, I still couldn’t believe that I’d seen my goody-goody older (by just under 3 years) sister do something that to me, still, seemed disgusting.

At the first opportunity, I discussed it with one of my closest girlfriends. I had expected her reaction to by somewhat akin to mine (although with hindsight, I don’t know why I thought that); so I was completely shocked, again, when she just laughed and informed me that “in her experience” it drove guys wild and that she loved it when they couldn’t control themselves any more. The only downside, apparently, was that cum made a mess of your clothes if you weren’t ‘careful’. That was her euphemism for ‘taking it all in your mouth’. She even went so far as to suggest I should try it to give my then boyfriend a treat.

I had been seeing my boyfriend for about 6 months. I’d had other ‘boyfriends’ before him but he was the first one with whom I had ever got past the kissing stage. Not that we’d gone much further. I had got to the stage where I was comfortable with him putting his hand up my top to play with my boobs (and I’ll admit that got me pretty wet) and I’d very recently moved from rubbing his cock through his jeans to actually slipping my hand down inside and actually feeling it in the flesh (although I hadn’t actually seen it at this point…). I had, however, never considered putting his cock in my mouth. Now though, having seen my sister do just that to her boyfriend, and had my best friend just tell me how much she enjoyed sucking cocks (note the plural – and I know for a fact she wasn’t exaggerating), I somewhat unexpectedly found myself warming to the idea.

It didn’t happen immediately. It was another two weeks before I actually plucked up the courage. It was his 15th birthday and I had my fingers around his cock while giving him a very intense birthday snog when I asked him if he’d like an ‘extra special present’.

I’d never seen an erect cock before. Well, not up close and personal (the reflection of the bit of my sister’s boyfriend’s cock that wasn’t in her mouth doesn’t count). To my untrained eye it seemed huge (actually, as it turned out, he was a little bigger than average) and I was a little intimidated by it and, to be completely honest, I didn’t have a clue what exactly I was supposed to do but, after giving it a few mote strokes, I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and took the head between my lips.

That was pretty much all it took. I just about had time to get used to the idea of his cock being in my mouth when I was choking and spluttering, trying to deal with my first mouthful of cum. And, my friend had been right, it did make a mess of my blouse (she had neglected to make any mention of the actual taste!). I was, however deeply turned-on at the thought that I had caused this reaction, that my mouth had caused him to lose control and shoot his load into it. I just wish I’d had a little longer to savour the experience and that he’d given me at least some warning of his impending eruption.

Needless to say, the blow-job became a regular part of our activities after that and, as well as me getting better at it, and him learning to enjoy it for longer, we quickly moved on to him going down on me too (although it would be another 3 or 4 months before I let him shag me for the first time) All in all, I actually had a lot to be grateful to my big sister for, not that she knew it.

Incidentally, I mentioned my ‘interruption’ to her not that long ago, hence why I know the details of their attempt to avoid discovery, and she confirmed that they had been completely oblivious to the fact. Not only that, but if I’d been a few minutes later, she’d have been riding his cock and not sucking it. I don’t know if that would have shocked the 14 year old me even more…

Let’s be upstanding


I absolutely fucking love cock. There, I’ve said it, “I love cock”. It’s probably fair to say that I love all cocks but, in particular, I love Master C’s cock.

I find penises endlessly fascinating. I love the way they change from their wrinkly flaccid state into an angry and swollen full-scale hard-on. I love watching this transformation in Master C’s cock as I slowly play with it, teasing it, turning Him on, arousing Him until he is fully erect and ready to pound my cunt with its lovely thick hardness. I also find those little involuntary twitches it makes in response to my touches amusingly endearing.

When it slips into cunt, I love the way it stretches me, and the pressure as it slides into me, inch by delicious inch, filling me. As I clench myself around it, I can feel those twitches inside me as it slides in and out.

As Master C fucks me, I imagine I can feel the head swell inside me as His orgasm approaches. When He cums, I feel His cock pulse, feel the eruption as His load is unleashed deep inside me.

Afterwards, the combined tastes of our juices is intoxicating as I take His cock into my mouth to clean Him. Then, as we lie together, His cock slowly shrinks back to its pre-aroused size and shape and I’m already looking forward to the next time I can make it hard and feel it inside me again.

Penises are very simple creatures that act as a barometer of their owner’s arousal. A hard-on can’t really be faked and are a very obvious mark of sexual approval. If you’ve given a guy a hard-on, he’s probably going to want to fuck you with it; and in Master C’s case, as He has such a fine specimen, it would be churlish of me not to let Him put it to good use.

#MasturbationMonday