Quality, not quantity…


I am a big fan of cocks. I have been intimately acquainted with a fair number of them over the years. Long ones, short ones, thick ones, thin ones, straight ones, bendy ones; all shapes and sizes. The one thing I have discovered is that the size of the package has no bearing at all on the proficiency with which it is used. If anything, the reverse seems more likely to be true; in that guys with larger cocks have a tendency to rely on the size of what they have, thinking that that alone will satisfy us.

Now, I realise that is a gross generalisation, and I have known a few guys with bigger than average penises to be very proficient in the way they have used them but, experience has shown that I’m more likely to be disappointed with an above average partner than with one who is less “heroically” endowed.

The thing is though, much as I love cock (which is lots), and much as I love feeling myself being filled by one, unless all I really want is a thorough fucking, what a guy does to me with his cock is only part of the story. I want a guy to turn me on with his hands, I want him to tease me with his fingers, I want his lips to explore me, I want his tongue to drive me wild, and I want his cock to take me over the edge.

Call me greedy, but I want a guy to do all those things to me and more. Yes, I love his cock, but it’s not all about the cock (except sometimes when it is).

I used to laugh at some of the profiles on sites like fabswingers, where the woman stated she only wanted to meet Very Well Endowed men with at least 8″. I mean, do these women actually take tape measures to bed with them? Do they actually require evidence before they will meet someone. Will they actually pass someone up just because they only measure 7.9″, like that 0.1″ is actually going to make any difference? Don’t get me wrong, I like to feel as full as the next woman but, unless someone is at the extreme of either end of the penile length/girth spectrum, once it’s inside me, I couldn’t honestly tell you how long/thick it is.

Like a lot of women, it seems that if I have a size related preference, it’s for thicker rather than longer, but since I’ve never had a penis that didn’t stretch me in some way as it entered me, I’ve never had an experience where the guy wasn’t “thick enough”.

Essentially, I want to feel nicely full whichever hole his cock is in. Ideally, it should be long enough to fill the back of my throat, but not so long that it bruises my cervix. In terms of thickness, I want to feel stretched, but not as if I’m being split in two or having my jaw dislocated (I am not a python after all).

Mostly though, I want a guy who knows how to turn me on, how to use my body for his pleasure and to give me pleasure. He has to be able to use his cock, whatever size it is, and he needs to be able to use it in conjunction with his fingers, hands, lips and tongue. If, like Master C does, he can turn me into a gibbering, trembling, orgasmic wreck before his cock gets anywhere near being inside me, then frankly I won’t have a care in the world.

#WickedWednesday
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Throat fucked


I’m naked, restrained, blindfolded, my head bent backwards over the edge of the bed. My arse still stings from the lashing of Master C’s belt. My nipples throb painfully as the pegs dig into them, holding them erect.

The head of Master C’s cock presses against my lips. “Open wide, slut, I’m going to fuck your throat now,” He commands.

Barely waiting for me to comply, He forces His cock between my lips, into my mouth until the head lodges in my throat; His balls slap against the bridge of my nose. Without a pause to allow me to accustom myself to his presence, Master C begins to move.

He fucks my mouth with deep, hard thrusts, driving His wonderful cock as far as it will go. I choke around it. Master C laughs, telling me that a well trained slut like me should be able to do much better before fucking my mouth harder.

My cunt is growing increasingly wet with every stroke of His cock. Master C reaches forward to squeeze the pegs on my nipples, increasing the pressure, increasing the pain. I try to cry out, opening my mouth wider, but He simply takes this as an invitation to  push in harder.

His hands move up from my nipples to my neck. His thumbs press down; gently but firmly; pushing down against the thickness of His cock through my skin.

My throat is raw. My nipples ache. My clit throbs. The cloth around my eyes grows increasingly damp as my tears soak into it.

Again I choke. Again Master C chides me. His balls slap against me as He stabs His cock between my lips. He feels so thick, so hard; His cock goes so deep.

I struggle for breath as Master C increases the pressure on my neck. The extra tightness makes His cock feel even thicker in my throat. It feels so good, knowing that He is using me for His pleasure, that He is treating my mouth simply as a hole to be fucked.

“Filthy slut!” Master C moans. “You are my filthy little slut!” Each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust of His gorgeous cock filling my airway. I feel myself becoming increasingly lightheaded through lack of air.

And then, suddenly He is gone. As I gulp for breath I feel the warm, stickiness of His cum on my skin as Master C unloads over my neck and boobs.

His cock returns to my lips as He feeds me the last drops of His cum; my reward for being His slut.

Master C removes the pegs from my nipples. I sob with relief and then, as He begins to rub His cum over them, I feel my climax ignite.

Arching my back as much as my restraints will let me, I shiver convulsively as my cunt contracts, my womb pulses, and waves of pleasure wash over and through me.

I know it won’t be my only orgasm.  I know that once Master C is hard again, He will fuck my cunt and possibly my arse just as hard as He fucked my throat.

For now, however, I am happy to wait.

The Oral Sex Project

Force feeding


Master C tilts my head back, grips my neck and forces His cock down my throat. This isn’t a blow-job, I am not in control; Master C is fucking my throat and using me for His pleasure.

It is rough, it is hard, it hurts my throat, it makes my jaw ache, I choke, tears well up in my eyes, I am being used and I fucking love every second, every thrust; from the first moment when Master C pushes his cock between my lips until the moment when I am choking down His cum.

I love being helpless. I love being utterly at His mercy. I love how uncomfortably wet my count becomes as Master C takes me as He pleases, using my mouth and throat as simply another hole to fuck and take His pleasure from. I am powerless, restrained, unable to resist Him, even if I wanted to; and I don’t. I am His to be owned; used as Master C chooses.

The head of His cock plugs my throat. His hand tightens around my neck. Breathing is almost impossible. Master C tells me that I am “a filthy slut” and He slaps my face hard as He fucks it.

I can taste Him… I can read the tell-tale signs…

“Filthy slut!”

“Dirty whore!”

Each word accompanied by a slap to my face; a thrust of His lovely cock in my throat. Each word reminding me of my place; a confirmation of my belonging to Him.

My cunt aches almost as much as my mouth.

Master C pulls out abruptly, and then I feel it; His warmth exploding over my skin. His cum trickles over my face, down my neck, over my boobs. I long to be able to rub it into my skin, to gather it in my fingers and taste it.

Master C unties my hands, strokes my hair. “Good girl” He whispers as He kisses me softly on the lips that, mere seconds before, were being abused by His cock.

I am His slut, and I am content in the knowledge that I have served Him well.
The Oral Sex Project