The bus ride of shame


The mid-morning bus wasn’t full, but my arse was too sore for me to sit. I wondered if my fellow travellers could feel the heat emanating from my glowing, recently thrashed cheeks.  Could they tell how moist my cunt was, having been fucked less than 30 minutes before?

Someone brushed against me as they moved to alight. I winced as they bumped into my  decidedly tender arse.

I wondered if they could smell Master C on me; the thick load of cum He unleashed over my boobs before rubbing it in, before I dressed with His cum dried on my skin.

The thought aroused me. My cunt grew warmer; I could feel my juices trickle down the insides of my thighs. Could anyone tell? Could they have known that beneath the primly, professionally dressed exterior there was a recently fucked and thrashed and seriously aroused, filthy little slut. Could they even guess that having been so recently and so very  thoroughly fucked by Master C, I was on my way to spend the day with “The Other Guy”, to be fucked some more? Could they possibly have imagined that the seemingly demure, professional woman in their midst was just a few stops away from having a second cock inside her, less than an hour after being so soundly fucked by the first?

The insides of my thighs tingled. A reminder of how Master C’s thighs, so firm and strong from years of playing rugby, slammed against mine as he fucked me. Could the other passengers sense the bruises He left there?

My stop approached. My arousal levels peaked. Could anyone see how pronounced my nipples were? Could they possibly imagine the reason for slight flushing on my skin?

I stepped off the bus, leaving my fellow commuters in blissful ignorance. The only thing I was caring about as I walked the 100 or so yards to “The Other Guy’s” flat was how quickly I could feel his cock inside me, and which hole he would fuck first…

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A great end to an otherwise shit day


So, I was in a right old grump most of yesterday.  It started when I broke my favourite mug, spilling coffee all over my feet and the kitchen floor at breakfast and continued pretty much for the whole day. In fact, my mood only improved (and it did so considerably) when I managed to meet up with “The Other Guy” after work.

He gently rubbed my neck and shoulders as I told him all about how shit my day had been. It didn’t take him long to have me out of my clothes and to have me feeling warm and relaxed as his hands worked away the tension in my back.

He did, of course, comment on the visible effects of my most recent thrashing; asking me what I’d done to deserve such punishment this time.  I told him, in great detail, about the fun “The Girl” and I had got up to on Wednesday evening after our most recent “catch-up”; to which he agreed that my subsequent thrashing had been more than merited. In fact, he even went as far as to suggest that, given how the marks had almost faded, I had, perhaps, been let off somewhat lightly.

Now, I have to say, when I was enduring the kiss of Master C’s belt on Wednesday evening, it didn’t seem like He was being particularly lenient. He really does know how to wield that belt; but I digress…

Of course, my lurid descriptions of my afternoon and evening of  wanton, girl-on-girl debauchery had a very obvious effect on him; it was evident than “The Other Guy’s” cock was straining, desperate to be set free.

Now, one thing that Master C has taught me is that I should always be fully appreciative when someone does something nice for me. As “The Other Guy” had cheered me up no end, and had made me feel so nice as he massaged the strains of the day from my body, it was only right that I should show how thankful I was by releasing his cock from its straining confinement and subjecting it to the much more pleasant, warm and wet confinement of my mouth.

I may be a slut, but no one can ever fault my manners.

It seems he was every bit as grateful for the blow-job as I had been of the massage. I had hardly had time to get into my stride when I recognised that familiar pattern of breathing, that tension in his groin that announce that he is on the point of orgasm.

His cock erupted, deluging my mouth with a thick torrent of cum. Swallowing it down, I marvelled at how much he produced. “The Other Guy” is generally quite a heavy comer, but anyone would have thought he had gone without coming for weeks; whereas I know for a fact he’d been relieved of several loads just as recently as last Saturday

Once he’d recovered, we swapped places; me on the edge of the sofa and him on his knees, between my legs, as he embarked on a prolonged bout of “getting his beard moisturised”.

I wasn’t going to complain. When it comes to going down on a woman, both the men in my life are extremely talented. Both Master C and “The Other Guy” belong to that rare breed of men that, when they go down on a woman, they give their full concentration to the task that’s in front of them; they both take their time and do the job properly. With them it isn’t just a quick perfunctory licking, to be done as quickly as possible, they both actually seem to luxuriate in it.

Suffice to say, I came several times before “The Other Guy” finished his devotions. By that time his cock was fully restored and, with the aid of gravity, I slid off the sofa, on to the floor and, to my astonishment, found myself underneath him.

We fucked. We fucked slow, we fucked fast, we fucked long and we fucked hard. We fucked until my cunt ached, and then we fucked some more. His cock massaged my insides every bit as skilfully as his hands had massaged my outsides. I came hard on his cock, gripping it tight inside me, feeling stretched and full and fabulously fucked.

He pulled out just before the end and fed me his cock. I loved the taste of myself on its length and the flavour of my juices was quickly combined with the wonderful taste of yet another load of his cum.

We cuddled there, on the floor, for a while after that and I left and drove home.

Master C still wasn’t in when I arrived, so showered and then poured myself a large glass of wine, before plonking myself down on the sofa, and proceeded to “unwind further”.

And that’s pretty much how Master C found me when he got home; somewhat tipsy, naked, nipples clamped, my favourite plug in my arse and with my fingers in my cunt. I didn’t even need any instruction; I simply got off the sofa and meekly adopted the required position as He smiled, winked and proceeded to remove His belt.

The lashes that rained down mercilessly upon my arse were as painfully delicious as they were fully deserved. The pain made my face flush almost as hotly as my other cheeks.

Tears streaked down my face as Master C spun me around and forced his cock into my mouth.

“Filthy Slut!” He said with quiet authority as he fucked my face, driving His cock angrily into my throat as His grip tightened around my neck.

I knew I didn’t deserve it, but I hoped I would be allowed to take Master C’s cum in my mouth. Instead, I got what I deserved. At the last second Master C pulled out and dumped a heavy load on to my face.

The rest of the evening was spent in acts of atonement. Once in bed, Master C fucked me gently and tenderly, letting me know that he had forgiven me.

My last conscious thought before I finally drifted off to sleep was, “well, today ended much, much, much better than it started…

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Cocked and loaded


So, this week’s Quote Quest teaser is:

“Between my finger and my thumb the squat pen rests; snug as a gun.”

– Seamus Heaney

Well, it wasn’t a pen between my thumb and finger, but those three letters definitely featured.

“The Other Guy” moans as I slowly stroke his cock, occasionally circling my thumb over the tip before encircling the shaft once again and working my slowly down, then back up again.

It’s been far too long since we last saw each other, far too long since I felt his tongue on my clit and his cock inside me.

I’ve already tasted his cum; rich and thick and so welcome after so long.

My cunt aches pleasantly from the ponding it received from his cock. My clit still throbs from where his tongue so expertly lashed it and drove me to a series of shuddering climaxes.

We’ve already done so much in the time we’ve had, and there is still so much more to do. My body is his to use until it is time for me to leave.

His cock twitches in my hand as I kiss him firmly on his lips, his tongue snaking into my mouth. I can taste my cunt on him; intoxicating, fuelling my hunger for him. I tighten my grip around his cock.

Up and down, down and up; I stroke those proud, stiff inches of flesh, refamiliarising myself with its contours. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had any cock but Master C’s, and I am so glad that it’s “The Other Guy” who is able to give me the first extra-curricular penis since the lifting of lockdown restrictions make such happenings possible again.

I move so that I can playfully kiss and tease the tip with my tongue as I stroke the shaft. I am rewarded with a familiar moan; a moan that means so much more because I haven’t heard it in so long. It’s a moan that confirms that I haven’t forgotten what “The Other Guy” likes, how he likes to be touched and teased. It’s a moan that tells me how much he has missed my attentions and how much he is enjoying experiencing them again anew.

The head of his cock swells a deep angry purple. I tease the underside with the tip of my tongue as I drag my nails lightly along his length. I can taste the nearness of his climax. I feel the tension in his body mount as I slide my thumb and finger up to concentrate on the area just below the head; knowing that this is the area that gives him the most pleasure.

“I’m going to come soon, Morag,” he half sighs, half moans.

“Good!” I breathe, “That’s what I want.”

My hand moves a little faster. His breathing deepens; his hips begin those tell-tale involuntary movements.

“Oh… Oh Morag!” he moans. “So close… So, so close…”

I have a decision to make; where do I want his load? In me, or on me?

His cock twitches in my hand.

“I want you to come on my boobs, then rub it in as you eat my cunt,” I tell him.

“Hell, fuck yes!” he gasps.

We pause briefly to change position, in readiness for what comes next. It’s the briefest respite for him but one that is short lived.

I circle his cock once more and stroke, hard, fast, eager for his inevitable eruption.

“Morag!” My name called out, a final groan, and then I feel his sticky warmth on my skin as unloads over my neck and boobs.

A small tremor runs up my spine. I know I’m really going to enjoy what will happen next…

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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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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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Getting to the bottom of things


Yes, this is a post about anal sex. Now, I think it’s fair to say that women generally fall into one of three camps when it comes to anal sex:

  • Those that have never tried it.
  • Those who have tried it and don’t like it.
  • Those who have tried it and enjoy it.

I am thoroughly in the third group. The reason for this being that I’m fortunate to have a partner who knows how to do it right. Having said that, It may come as a bit of a surprise to you, especially given how much I enjoy it and how much of a mainstay of my submissiveness it has become, that I actually did not expect to enjoy anal sex. I was curious about it, and while my girlfriends and I were all agreed on how much we enjoyed fucking, sucking guys cocks and getting out cunts thoroughly licked, when it came to anal, the feedback from those that had tried it ranged from the damning it with faint praise with comments like “well, it wasn’t too bad, and at least he liked it” to the outright “there’s no fucking way I’m doing that again”. None of my friends, it seemed had a particularly positive experience with it.

Porn, didn’t really help. In the porn I watched, it seemed that girls’ arses were always ready to be fucked; generally, I realise now although it didn’t occur to me then, because they have been pre-lubed. And that, you see, is where I think the crux of the problems that my girl friends who didn’t like it lay. Unlike our cunts, our arses are not self-lubricating; the whole “Oops, sorry, wrong hole” thing doesn’t actually work. A man can no more stick their cock into an unlubricated arse, than they can an unlubricated cunt. Now, whereas, with some foreplay and attention, a cunt will get wet, no amount of foreplay will make an arsehole naturally wet enough to take a cock. Sadly, a lot of young people get their “sex education” from porn and it gives them completely inaccurate expectations of how bodies actually work.

Now, I think I’ve alluded to the fact that I’m willing to give most things a try, and, the issues with porn that I’ve described above notwithstanding, from the depictions I had seen of it, there was something delightfully degrading and downright filthy about it that appealed at some very basic level to me. I wasn’t even aware that I had a submissive nature at this stage, let alone h began to explore it; I’m not even sure I knew what “being submissive” even was, but with hindsight it was quite clear that it was there all along. Even back then in my earliest days, I liked the feeling of being “used” by the guy who was fucking me, I loved the experience of being “taken”, and the more roughly I was “taken”, the more I enjoyed it.

And so it happened that, after quite a lot to drink at a party, whilst being fucked senseless and having already been eaten to numerous orgasms, I decided to let my curiosity get the better of me. I wasn’t a stranger to having the guy in question’s finger (or occasionally, fingers) up me when he was fucking me or eating me out and so, with generous quantities of lube being applied, he slowly got me relaxed and opened up with open, then two, and finally three fingers before replacing them with his cock.

Yes, it was a slightly strange sensation at first; it also hurt, despite the lube, but it actually felt pretty good. When he started working his cock in and out, it felt just as deliciously dirty as I thought it would, the discomfort only heightened my enjoyment.  All the time he kept saying things like “I’m fucking your arse,” and “Your arse feels so tight,” and calling me things like “Filthy Slut!” and “Dirty Bitch!” And in that moment, I was exactly those things. I was a filthy slut, I was a dirty Bitch, I was a bad girl who was getting her arse fucked, and I loved it. When he increased the pace and his balls started slapping against my cunt lips, I loved it even more.

Looking back, I think that was my first encounter with “subspace”. As he pounded my arse with long, hard, deep strokes, and as he told me over and over what a bad girl, what a dirty girl I was, I lost myself in a way that I had never really experienced before. When, at the end, he pulled out, stripped off the condom and shot his load over my back and across my arse cheeks, I really did feel like I was the “filthy slut” that he had been calling me as his cock filled my arse and he fucked me with an intensity that I had rarely experienced before.

So, yes, it’s fairly safe to say that he did enjoy it, unlike my friends, so did I, and it was definitely something that I intended to try again.

And here’s the thing, I believe that, if done properly, anal sex should only hurt as the much as the recipient wants it to. The level of pain and discomfort is directly proportional to the amount of lubrication applied.

As I’ve subsequently discovered, I actually like it to hurt quite a bit, and through practice and experience, I know just how much lubrication Master C or “The Other Guy” have to use to get the desired level of pleasure and pain that a good arse-fucking should deliver. That’s not to say that sometimes whichever one of them is fucking my arse won’t deliberately use less than that “optimum” amount, but that’s fine too on occasions and, sometimes I want it to hurt more than others.

So, if your partner tis one of those women who tends to shy away from anal, you may want to try and find out what her reasons are; it maybe that her only previous experience was with someone who watched too much porn and thought he could force his way in with just a little bit of spit. Anal sex can be a highly enjoyable experience for both partners, but men really have the responsibility to make it so for the person whose arse they want to stick their cock up.

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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

Cheating


I’ll be the first to admit that monogamy has never really been my thing. I have also written before about the fact that, when it comes to casual sex, I couldn’t care less if the guy I’m fucking is in a relationship or not. If I’m fucking a guy and that guy happens to be cheating on his significant other, that is their issue, not mine.

But what about my own “behaviour” on this front?

Well, it’s true, I do fuck other guys. I’m not just talking about “The Other Guy”, I’m talking about casual sex with random men.

Is this cheating?

Some would say that it is. I can understand why they would think so. After all, I am in a committed relationship and I am fucking other guys. What’s more, I am fucking other guys whom I don’t even know, I’m just attracted to them at some primal sexual level.

But, and here’s the thing, within the context of my relationship with Master C, so long as I am honest about the guys I fuck, and so long as I am willing to accept the consequences of fucking other guys, then I am free to fuck whomever I like.

For me, it is not the fucking that constitutes cheating in our relationship, it would be not being honest about it. In any relationship, but especially in a poly/non-monogamous relationship, trust and honesty are paramount. While I am free to fuck anyone that takes my fancy, there is an expectation that I will admit that I have done it and, for those occasions where it involves some random guy I pick up on a night out, accept the punishment for my actions.

Now I fully understand that for some, cheating, even where forgiveness and absolution after the fact is sought and obtained, is still cheating. For Master C and I, this just simply isn’t the case. We accept and embrace the fact that sex is an enjoyable act and that, taking the proper precautions, is an act that does not need to be restricted to just ourselves. He allows me the freedom to explore and enjoy my sexual expression. We are open and honest about such things and, if I’m being completely honest, sometimes the punishment He inflicts afterwards is even more enjoyable than the transgression itself.

I guess what I’m saying here is that everyone has different values, and what is right for Master C and me, may, understandably, be completely wrong for others. If you think that my actions mean I am cheating on Him and that I am lucky to have someone so tolerant, then that’s up to you; although I would agree that I am a very luck woman indeed to have someone like Him as my Master.

What matters most is that Master C and I are happy with our relationship; it works for us. We are open, honest, have each other’s full trust and support and no one is getting hurt (apart from my arse when He thrashes me for being a spoiled little slut, but that’s another matter entirely). That, to me, is so much more important than some conventional “morality” based around monogamy.

#WickedWednesday