Friends reunited


As I mentioned in my last post, on Saturday, I managed to meet up with “The Girl” for the first time since September. Our reunion was everything I expected. There were smiles, there were tears, there were hugs, there was laughter and, yes, there were orgasms.

It was lovely to simply see her and talk to her in person again. Yes, we have kept in touch, but Zoom calls don’t quite do it. It was, however, pretty obvious from the outset that we were not going to be restricting ourselves to chat. From the very first peck on the cheek, the first hand on the other’s arm or shoulder, we both knew exactly where this encounter was heading.

So, not to beat about the bush, as it were, things moved in the direction we both knew they were moving and ended up exactly where we both wanted them to be.

Feeling “The Girl’s” body next to mine again, feeling her skin beneath my fingers as her hands caressed mine was simply wonderful. From the first kiss, we just melted into each other and let nearly 9 months of pent up hunger for each other fall away.

Fingers tickled and teased. Lips kissed and explored. Teeth nipped and nibbled. Tongues flicked and licked. Orgasms ignited, subsided and flared again.

It felt so good to taste her and to taste me on her. The scent and taste of her cunt was intoxicating as I feasted hungrily upon it. The intensity of the sensations as her fingers twisted inside my cunt, and her tongue tormented my clit was simply divine.

The last 9 months were simply stripped away as we took each to the heights of orgasm again and again; sometimes using our fingers to tease each other’s cunts, sometimes using our lips and tongues to drive each other wild.

Time, such as it had any meaning at all, was measured in heartbeats, in kisses, in sighs and moans, in climaxes and cuddles and it all felt so right, so wonderful.

Afterwards, at home, Master C, as I knew he would, required me to recount every detail; making me relive the events of the afternoon and evening as I told Him everything. Occasionally He would require more specific detail. Sometimes He would stop me and do to me the very thing I had just described that “The Girl” had done earlier.

“Did she do this?” He’s ask, pinching my nipples as His tongue beat on my clit. “Was it like this?” He’d enquire as He slid one, then two fingers up inside me and twisted them around. “Did you taste like this?” He’d ask, lifting His fingers to my lips and slipping them into my mouth.

When I’d told Master C all the was to tell, He spun me around, told me to brace myself, and reminded me of the one thing “The Girl” couldn’t do.

He fucked me hard, driving His cock into my cunt with powerful thrusts. Having been taken so tenderly by “The Girl”, it felt so good to be used by Master C; the differences so apparent as He fucked me; the rougher touch of His hands, the firmness of His body, the coarseness of the stubble on His face and, of course, His cock; His wonderful thick, hard cock that was pounding me mercilessly.

As the end approached, He spun me around again and demanded that I took Him in His mouth. For an intense moment I tasted myself on His cock before He filled my mouth with a deliciously think load of cum.

We would fuck again later; Master C eating me to the edge of another shuddering climax, having held me on the brink for what seemed like eternity before finally using His cock to ignite my release as He fucked me beyond my ability to hold on.

All in all, it was a fantastic day and a wonderful way to see in the new month.

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Times are a changin’


If I’m being completely honest, my sex life is pretty much as perfect as anyone could hope for. In Master C, not only do I have a caring and attentive partner, who knows my body and my needs and attends to them regularly and fully, I also have a strict, but fair Master who allows me to be who I am and to do what I want with whom I want so long as I am willing to accept my actions have consequences. I get quality, quantity and variety. It’s a win-win that makes me a very happy slutty but satisfied submissive.

Of course, the one fly in the ointment has been that, for much of the past 12 months, I haven’t been able to enjoy the freedoms that Master C allows me to have.

Now, this isn’t exactly a hardship. I do miss spending time with “The Other Guy” and I also miss the thrill of my occasional random dalliances, but at the end of the day, other than novelty, they don’t give me anything that Master C doesn’t already lavish on me. If I want a cock in any of my holes, Master C’s cock will always be my first cock of choice and is absolutely my preferred cock. “The Other Guy” is also very acquainted with my body, and also elicits the most fabulous responses from me, but such encounters are occasional; at most 2-3 times a year. As for the randoms, well, that’s just fucking. They don’t know me, they don’t know what buttons to push to really turn me on, they are simply a form of “cock on demand” for when an urge that can’t wait until I get home (and the need to be soundly punished when I do) takes me.

No, all things aside, I don’t actually miss any of that.

There is, however, one person I do really miss, and that is “The Girl”. I’ve mentioned before that “The Girl” and I have had an intimate friendship stretching back over 30 years (we been friends for over 40 but the “intimate” is the key bit in that sentence), and she was the first person (other than myself) to bring me to orgasm. I always love the time we spend together, whether it be having sex or simply chatting over a glass or several of wine (although, more often than not, that often leads to sex too). I love exploring the soft curves of her body with my hands, lips and tongue. I love the taste of her cunt, I love the silly little noises and facial expressions she makes when she is aroused and when she comes and I love the things that does to me and how those make me feel.

I long to hold her and be held by her, to kiss her and be kissed by her, to feel her body pressed against mine. I yearn for the sensations of her fingers sliding and twisting inside my cunt, teasing me, tormenting me. I hunger for the taste of her cunt and the feeling of her tongue on mine; so different from Master C’s, but still able to take me to the edge of the precipice and hold me there before finally igniting my climax.

Mentioning Master C, I also miss the “punishment fucks” that sex with “The Girl” will earn me. The fucks where he shows me “what I was missing” and what “she can’t give me”. Those fucks are always wonderfully intense, especially since the retelling of what “The Girl” and I got up to allows me to relive those things before Master C fucks me.

So, where does this all tie in with the prompt? Well, it’s quite simple. Thanks to the changes in Covid related restrictions, in a few hours time, “The Girl” and I will be meeting up, in person, for the first time since September. This is “the change” I have been wishing for the most; not just for the sex, but for the chance to be with and catch-up with my oldest and dearest friend for the first time in what seems like forever. I’m imagining so many things; far more than can fit into a single afternoon encounter, and I’m hoping this means we will be able to spend many more afternoons together again. After all, we have a lot of catching up to do…

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One way or another


This week, on No True Way, we’re being asked to consider the following:

A switch is not a real Dom/sub

Now, this is not a topic I really have any experience with but, as with all things, I would say that context is key.

I am pretty sure that there is absolutely no way that anyone would ever consider me to be Dominant, especially in my relationship with Master C, but as I have mentioned many times on here, being submissive does not, in the context of our dynamic, mean me being passive and having no input into what goes on, or the kind of things I want to do and have done to me.

I’ve written before that Master C expects me to communicate my wants, needs and desires, and we have evolved a means by which I can do this in a way that is consistent with my submission to him. As my Master, He is, of course, free to interpret and act upon my requests as He sees fit; but that is how it should be.

There are also times where it suits Master C to let me take the lead. He is happy for me to do “the heavy lifting” as it were, and provide most of the effort while He enjoys the fruits of my efforts. This doesn’t make me any less submissive; it is simply another way in which I care for Him and provide for His needs.

Of course, as anyone who reads this blog will be fully aware, Master C, is not the only person that I have sex with. In addition to our poly sharing circle, there are both “The Girl” and “The Other Guy” and there are also my randoms.

Within the sharing circle, I am absolutely submissive. I may occasionally be required to “Dominate” one of the other submissives in the group, but that does not come naturally to me, and I am still doing it as a submissive act in that I am doing it for the gratification of either Master C, or the Master of the other submissive that I am being required to “Dominate”. Essentially though, it is play acting. I do it because that is the task that has been set me, not because I am naturally inclined to do so.

With “The Other Guy”, while I do not submit to him, where our kinks are concerned, I am still the submissive partner. I will still ask him if he would like me to suck his cock, or if he would like to eat me out or fuck my arse. I will still take instruction from him when he tells me to bend over, or get down on my knees/all fours. I am still very much submissive even though I am not his submissive.

When I am with “The Girl”, there really isn’t any D/s element to our sex at all. We’ve know each other since childhood, been sexual partners since our teens and we just do what feels right and comes naturally to us. Where such things require it, we will take it in turns to be the one doing things to the other, but there is no primacy between us; we simply share the moments we have together and do whatever happens.

The only time that sex is entirely on my own terms is with a random. I single them out, I pick them off, and then we do whatever it is I’m in the mood for, whether that simply be sucking them off or getting fucked in the arse in a dark alley. With randoms it’s really all about what I want from a partner in that moment; it’s the rush, the thrill and excitement of the illicit in the sure and certain knowledge that I will be punished for it later.

Now, while my extra-curricular couplings undoubtedly confirm my slut credentials, none of these things, however, qualifies me as a “switch”. at the end of the day, I submit to Master C, and only to Master C. He is the only one to whom my submission has been offered. Again, as I have written before, I am His submissive at all times, not just when we are engaging in sex or kink related activities. I am His submissive when I’m at work, I am His submissive when I’m pushing the trolley round the supermarket (irrespective of whether or not I’ve been instructed to wear a butt-plug, nipple-clamps, ben-wa balls while I am out and about), I am His submissive when I’m asleep. To me, “switching” doesn’t enter into it, it doesn’t matter what I am doing or, indeed, who I am doing it with, I have submitted to Master C and I am His submissive in every way and at all times.

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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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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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What about love?


The current prompt on ‘Quote Quest‘ asks us to consider the following:

We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.
– Tom Robbins

Now, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ve spend much time looking for a perfect lover. I have spent a lot of time and effort looking for great (and often, not so great) sex partners, but lovers are a different matter. Yes, Master C definitely is, amongst other things, my lover and He is very definitely my love, and as far as perfection goes, well, I guess that in an imperfect world, they are as close as I’ll get, and I couldn’t be happier, or more satisfied than that.

Stepping back, however, when does a shag become a lover?

At the time, I was pretty sure that I was in love with the boyfriend I let fuck me for the first time. I was definitely attracted to him, I enjoyed spending time with him, as our relationship grew over the few years we were boyfriend and girlfriend; starting from just awkward kissing, all the way up to where he was fucking me in the arse, I’d enjoyed every stop on our journey of sexual exploration. I loved what he could do to my body and make it feel, and I loved doing things back; I particularly loved knowing I was responsible for his orgasm. I was heartbroken when our relationship ended after being so intense, but these things tend to happen, and I was possibly even more upset when he passed away after a short battle with cancer a couple of years ago. But, was it love, or was it just the hormonal rush of horny teenagers? I suspect it was a combination of both.

I’d had “boyfriends” before him, and I’m sure I’d told them that I loved them, but I suspect it would be fair to say he was the first boyfriend that was, actually, a lover.

We wasn’t, however, my first lover. That accolade goes to “The Girl”. With her it was a love that grew out of friendship and would become physical. She was the first person (if you exclude my own efforts) to bring me to orgasm. Almost 30 years later, our friendship is still intimate and physical (albeit we can’t be physical at the moment because of Covid) . We revel in each other’s company. There are few greater, yet more simple pleasures than when we get together, spend hours talking shite over a few glasses of wine, and generally fucking each other senseless.

“The Other Guy” is also someone I would put in the “lover” camp. He started of as a random fuck. I hadn’t yet met Master C and I was single at the time. We met via an online contact site, we fucked and, not only was the sex good, but we discovered we actually liked each other, so we decided we would fuck some more. And so we did; whilst never making it to “couple” status we did move from random, to what might almost be described as a “classic” Friends with Benefits relationship which, if you’ve read this blog before will know, still carries on (albeit currently with the same caveats as the relationship with “The Girl”) today.

Then, there is Master C. Again, we started of as casual. We evolved into the kind of Friends with Benefits arrangement that I had with “The Other Guy” and then morphed into a couple. We moved in together a couple of years later and the rest, as they say, is history.

But then, what about the members of our “Sharing Circle”? Are they lovers or are they just sex partners? Well, it’s true that I enjoy their company when we’re sharing (although, honestly, some more than others), and I definitely enjoy the sex, but that’s about as far as it goes. For the most part, these are people that I fuck and people who fuck me. They aren’t people I call up for chats, or spend time with simply for the pleasure of their company. I don’t miss them in the way that I miss “The Girl” or “The Other Guy”. There is no emotional bond. The sex is great and it offers some exciting variety but if the “Circle” ended, I wouldn’t be devastated; I wouldn’t long for and pine after it in the way that I would if my relationships with “The Girl”, “The Other Guy” and especially my relationship with Master C were to end. The are regular (to partners who to a greater or lesser degree I am friendly with rather than people I would consider friends, and certainly I doubt that any would evolve to become “Friends with Benefits” In that respect, I guess, they don’t meet the “lover” criteria, and that’s absolutely fine.

So could I say that I have a perfect love? Well, if I’m being honest, I have to say “no”. Master C and I are, after all, only human. We have our faults, we argue and get on each other’s nerves, we do things that piss each other off; but that’s part of what being life partners is all about. Is Master C the “perfect” lover? Well, certainly, He knows my body and the way it responds like no one else. He can make my knickers fall fall off and my cunt sopping wet and hungry for His cock with just a glance or a gesture. He can and does play my body like a maestro plays a classic instrument. But is He perfect?

Well, again, I would say “no”. Not because I don’t love everything about Him, the things He does and the way He makes me feel, but simply because, like me, Master C is human, and we are not perfect. Besides which, if things were “perfect”, there would never be the opportunity for things to be even better, I would never need to be educated, guided and, where necessary, disciplined, and how dull would that be?

So I will happily take our imperfect lives and the implicit imperfections of our love simply because those imperfections are part of what makes it so fucking great.

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TMI Tuesday – Everybody Should Be Doing It


1. Agree or Disagree. If people want to have more than one spouse they should be allowed to do that.
Absolutely. If they don’t want to get married, that’s good too. I realise that marriage is largely a “legal” arrangement but if people want to form so called “plural marriages” then fine. That said, even though I am unashamedly poly, that wouldn’t be for me. I am happier with the more “traditional” single spouse (although we aren’t actually married) arrangement but that we are free to share outside our relationship

2. Do you believe in ethical non-monogamy?
I’d have to be deeply hypocritical not to given that this pretty much describes how I live. Master C allows me the freedom to explore my sexual needs and to enjoy sex with whomever I like so long as I am aware that there are consequences to my actions and I am willing to pay those consequences. I don’t need to ask permission to have sex with other men, but I do have to ask for forgiveness and accept whatever punishment Master C determines is appropriate for my “transgression”. Accepting those consequences is something I do willingly and without reservation.

3. Is polyamory something you want?
See answers 1 & 2 above. We also have a small circle of other likeminded D/s couples with whom we share ; either individually or as couples and, occasionally, as a larger group.  In addition to the random men/women I fuck, I also have my “regular friends with benefits”, i.e. “The Other Guy” and “The Girl”. Sadly, 2020 being the way it has been, there has been little chance to enjoy any of these outside arrangements this year.

4. Do you wish that your ethical non-monogamy was a societal/cultural norm?
It doesn’t bother me. It is a “norm” for us and it works and we’re happy with it in the context of our relationship. We don’t care what outsiders think because it’s really no one’s business except ours and the people we share with.

5. If you are in or have been in an open sexual relationship, what are the best bits?
I think I already have. Basically my relationship allows me the freedom to explore and satisfy my sexual desires and needs and provides a framework where I don’t have to feel guilt about acting on simple/primal human urge. Nether of us has to force ourselves to be confined by the constraints of monogamy and, given that we’ve been together for 15 years (give or take a month or so), I’d say it seems to work well for us.

Bonus: Describe what your ideal intimate and/or sexual relationship would look like today.
I would say I am already living my idea sexual relationship. Having said that, I do look forward to a time in the hopefully not to distant future when Master C and I can share within our circle again and I can spend some time with “The Other Guy” and “The Girl”.  Being able to have a drunken blow-job/fuck in an alleyway with stranger again would be nice too. I know I can do the latter with Master C, and we have, but it doesn’t quite have the same sense of deliciously filthy sluttiness when it’s with the one you love.

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Holiday encounters


I’be never been very good at monogamy and, it probably’s fair to say that before I met Master C, and apart from the couple “regular” relationships I had before Him, casual sex was pretty much my thing. I met guys online, I met guys in pubs, I met guys on holiday; more than half of my sexual encounters were “once onlies”. To be fair, even now, a lot of the guys I fuck still fall into this category; the only difference being that now I have to subject myself to the stern, but fair, discipline of Master C whenever I choose to indulge my insatiable sluttiness.

I mentioned recently that Master C and I had been on holiday in Greece. I have, of course, been to Greece many times. The particular event I want to share with you took place far too many years ago, when I was 17.

I’d recently finished school, when a group of us went on holiday to Faliraki on the Greek island of Rhodes. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of lying in the sun, and, between the six of us in our group, quite a lot of shagging; although I think “The Girl” and I were the only members of our group that shagged each other, but that’s another story.

Having arrived at the resort around midday, checked in, spent the afternoon lounging by the pool and drinking cocktails from the pool bar, by the time evening came, we were ready to hit the clubs.

His name was Gavin, he was from Manchester and, as it turned out, was flying home the next day. He was cheery, cheeky, a pretty good kisser and, as I was to discover, pretty good with his tongue and a better than average fuck.

A walk , well, drunken stagger, along the beach, resulted in me giving him a blow-job under the stars as he sat on a sun-lounger and I knelt in the sand between his legs. He had a decently proportioned cock and enjoyed the attentions of my mouth. He came quickly, filling my mouth with cum. We swapped places and he ate me out to a succession of shuddering climaxes before we headed back to his apartment.

The apartment was empty and we headed straight to his room. We stripped off and I sucked him until his cock was as hard as my cunt was wet and we fucked, and fucked, and fucked.

We were still fucking when his friends began returning. He was balls-deep in my arse when they burst into the room. They were chanting and cheering him on as he fucked my arse and when he pulled out and came all up my back, their cheers were almost deafening.

It was about 3am when I got back to our apartment. “The Girl” staggered in about an hour later. We spent the next hour or so telling each other about our evenings. The high point of her evening being spit-roasted over a table in front of one of the beach bars.

We fucked each other, licking each other into a frenzy, both of us coming hard before finally falling asleep.

All in all it was a great start to what was to be an fantastic holiday.

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Skelpt arse


I suspect I may have mentioned that I am a mischievous little slut, I don’t deny it. As such, Master C almost always has some reason for needing to punish me.

Sometimes He will use His hand, sometimes a rolled up newspaper, for more serious transgressions He will use the paddle and, for the very worst offences, He uses His belt.

The reason for my most recent punishment spanking: spending a very fun, sexy Saturday afternoon with “The Girl”.

As usual, on returning home, I was forced to describe my latest indiscretion in full and vivid detail. I described how we explored each other’s bodies with our lips, fingers and tongues. I told Him all about the toys we used on ourselves and each other. I described in intense minute detail every climax that “The Girl” inflicted on my oh so willing body.

Sessions such as this will usually earn me at least six of the best from Master C’s belt, but on this occasion, He was feeling lenient and deemed the blow-job I gave Him to be a suitable act of contrition, so the punishment was downgraded to a paddling.

The paddle is only marginally less painful than the belt but it inflicts itself over a considerably bigger area.

Suffice to say, I was, as usual, required to assume the position, bent over the desk, while Master C dished out my punishment with resounding thwacks against my poor bottom, having me count out each stroke of the paddle.

Have I learned my lesson? Probably not. And, being totally honest, even if I had, I’d still find countless other ways to misbehave that would require the application of Master C’s stern discipline.

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So long as they have a face…


…I will always have a place to sit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#MasturbationMonday