Vicarious Sex


I can’t actually remember the circumstances that led to me discovering my brother’s stash of well thumbed porno mags, but I remember my reaction when I found them. By the standard of what you can find with absolutely no effort online today, they were extremely tame. The few hard-core examples mostly had any actual penetration obscured with coloured ovals. The rest were simply your run of the mill skin mags like Mayfair, Escort, Penthouse and the like. The images in them were almost exactly the same as you would find in issues of the same publications today; only this being the mid 1990s, the girls in them had considerably more pubic hair than their contemporary counterparts. There was never any doubt as to whether the girl in question was a natural blonde or not.

I sat transfixed, slowly turning the pages, marvelling at how sexy and how confident these women were. The comments next to the pictures seemed to emphasise how much they were in control of their sexual desires and appetites. It would be another decade before I would have sex with a woman; I didn’t consider myself to be bisexual then, hell, I wasn’t even sexual back then, but those sexy photos turned me on.

If the images were arousing, I wasn’t at all prepared for the letters. There were descriptions of people fucking, descriptions of guys getting their cocks sucked and eating girls’ cunts out, descriptions of girls getting eaten out and sucking guys cocks, descriptions of orgasms, descriptions of threesomes, orgies, outdoor sex, anal sex, sex, sex and more fucking, hot, wonderfully glorious sex. The words turned me on more than anything I had ever experienced before.

Needless to say, a couple of the magazines were secreted away before I returned the box to its hiding place. Once I’d exhausted a particular batch of “contraband” I’d return them and borrow another couple, slowly working my way through his entire collection which, I discovered, much to my delight, was frequently being added to.

As I’ve mentioned before, when I first discovered my brother’s illicit treasure trove, I had yet to discover the joys of wanking. Reading all those marvellously filthy words turned me on immensely, yet frustrated me almost in equal measure. Wanking, and in particular, girls wanking seemed to be the one thing those letters omitted. I wasn’t even aware that girls could wank, let alone have any inkling as to the mechanics of how it could be done.

When, at last, I’d made that particular discovery, the magazines took on a whole new resonance; they became the fuel for my fantasies. I would lie in bed, fingering myself into a frenzy, imagining I was one of those wantonly liberated women who fucked, and licked and sucked any cock that took my fancy. In the safety of my bedroom, with the door firmly locked, I practiced the erotic poses of the girls in the pictures in front of the mirror. As I grew bolder, I would wank myself, watching my reflection, learning how my body responded to arousal, slightly amused and slightly horrified by my facial expressions as I came.

Those magazines taught me that there was no shame to be derived from being a woman that enjoyed sex and being confident in her sexual identity. In the three years it took me between sucking my first cock and finally losing my virginity, I fucked vicariously through those beautifully vivid and deliciously filthy descriptions of sex.

To this day, I still don’t know if my brother was aware he wasn’t the only one in our house getting off to those magazines.

#MasturbationMonday
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A return to form


As a result of a nasty bout of lurgy that’s been going round, I haven’t been feeling particularly well recently. As a result, you would be definitely correct if you were to say that I haven’t been feeling myself (pun intended).

Well, it seems that my libido may just be making a comeback.

I awoke from a nap this afternoon to find myself, much to my surprise, feeling decidedly randy. It has been a couple of weeks since I last experienced this, so it was very much a pleasant surprise. Given how unusual this has been of late, I decided it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

My nipples responded almost immediately to my touch, quickly becoming sensitive and stiff. By the time my fingers made their way to my cunt, I was so wet that I encountered almost no resistance as I slid first one, then two, up inside me.

My body responded quite readily to the stimulation. A lovely feeling of sexual tension and arousal quickly spread through me. I’d almost forgotten how good it feels.

I took my time, enjoying every slow thrust and twist of my fingers, teasing my clit with my other hand. Muscle memory quickly took hold and I closed my eyes, allowing my fingers to do their own thing, letting my body respond in its own way.

The sensations quickly grew, but my fingers kept up their steady pace, neither quickening nor slowing; now changing the pressure on my clit as it throbbed beneath them.

My orgasm, when it came, was short but deliciously intense, gripping me in its embrace and tossing me like a leaf in a gale. The climax itself lasted no longer than a few heartbeats, but the warm, satisfied afterglow continued for for what seemed like an age afterwards.

It was my first orgasm in over two weeks and FUCK, was it a good one.

I think it’s fair to say I clearly needed it.

#WickedWednesday

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

An “A-Z” of Wanks


In celebration of May being World Masturbation Month, I thought it might be fun to try and give an A-Z of wanks. You might have different names for some of these, but I’m sure you will recognise at least some of them.

A – The Anger Wank
We’ve all been there, a bad day at the office, a friend has pissed you off, you get home to find the cat has puked all over the sofa. You’re annoyed, you’ve had enough. What better way to work of your frustrations than dig out a favourite toy or two and give yourself a couple of shuddering orgasms. It won’t fix your problems, but it will make you feel better about things.

B – The Basic Wank
Can’t be bothered faffing around with toys, lube, etc.? Take it back to basics; enjoy a session with your fingers and your own natural lubricant. Relive the joy of those first furtive fingerings that you gave yourself so many years ago. Sometimes, less is more.

C – The Cunt Filler
Fingers not quite cutting it? Want to feel stretched and full? You remember that mammoth, super-sized dildo you’ve got stashed away for those “need a bit more” situations. Ram it in and feel that delicious fullness.

D – The Danger Wank
We all need excitement. The thrill of the risk of being caught adds to the arousal. It’s the wank in public or semi-public places.

E – The Eclectic Wank
You want to get off, but can’t quite decide how. Fingers? Toys? Frotting against an inanimate object? All of the aforementioned? It’s the wank where you use every tool in your arsenal to get yourself off.

F – The “Fuck This! I’m Having A Wank” Wank
Housework to be done? Ironing to be put away? Washing piling up? You know what, I can’t be arsed, I think I’ll have a wank first.

G – The Gratuitous Wank
The one you do in front of your partner because they are failing to meet your needs (can also be combined with The Anger Wank). You’re doing it for you, not for them. You’re having a wank and you don’t care if they know about it; in fact, you want them to know about it.

H – The Happy Wank
You’re in a great mood, you may or may not know the reason for this, but you’re sure as hell going to enjoy it. And what better way to make a little happiness go that bit further? Yup, work that clit/cock.

I – The Insecure Wank
First date nerves? Worried about if he/she will like/want to fuck you? Settle down and settle yourself before you go out with a quick reminder of just why you are fabulous.

J – The Jealous Wank
Just seen your ex with their latest partner? Feeling a bit down about it. Cheer yourself up with a reminder of what they are now missing out on: you. Can be combined with the Anger and Insecure wanks.

K – The Killer Wank
The kind of wank that leaves you more than just breathless.  You’ve cum so hard and so often that you actually feel like you’ve endangered your very existence.

L – The Learning Wank
It’s back to the beginning. It’s the way we learned how we liked to be touched. Thinking back brings back memories of a more “innocent” time.

M – The Mighty Moaner
The frustration has been building up. The release is so powerful. You shout your pleasure from the rooftops and you don’t care who hears you (with the possible exception of your parents). Sometimes combined with The Killer Wank.

N – The Normal Wank
This is your default wank. The one you fall back on when you haven’t the energy/can’t be arsed with anything else. It’s reliable, you know it works, so why fix it?

O – The OMFG!!! Wank
A variation of The Killer Wank and The Mighty Moaner. It produces orgasms so strong you feel like you won’t be able to move for about a week.

P – The Preparation Wank
You know you’re going to get a bloody good seeing-to, but you can’t wait to get started, so you have a quick bit of me time to start things moving.

Q – The Quiet Wank
It’s the middle of the night. You wake up feeling as randy as hell. Beside you, your partner is sleeping soundly, snoring and drooling into their pillow. It would be a shame to wake them. So, quietly does it, trying hard not to disturb them as you wank yourself back to sleep.

R – The Rushed Wank
You’ve got some place to be. You’re meeting a friend for a drink. It’s taken you forever to get ready and if you don’t hurry up, you will definitely be late. One small snag, you’re randy. Probably just got time to dig out the Doxy and scrape yourself of the ceiling after 30 seconds.

S – The Sensual Wank
You have all the time in the world, so take it slowly. Use your favourite body oils and creams. Take time to ensure every inch of you tingles. Savour it. Wallow in it. Enjoy it.

T – The Toy Wank
You want to feel full, you want to feel something thrust deep inside you. You want your cunt to squeeze and grip hard on something as you cum.  It’s time for toys. The Cunt Filler is a subset of this wank.

U – The Unexpected Wank
You hadn’t planned to have one; you weren’t even aware that you were particularly randy. Suddenly, midway through Eastenders, you unexpectedly find yourself with your fingers in you knickers. Well, let’s be honest, almost anything is better than watching Eastenders.

V – The Variety Wank
Similar in a way to The Eclectic Wank, but this time the variety is deliberate. You’ve carefully chosen out what toys you are going to use, the lube to apply and you’ve got it all worked out in advance so that you use them all.

W – The Watching Wank
Whether it’s you watching your partner or your partner watching you, or maybe you’re simultaneously watching each other, having an audience can make the experience even more intimate. Can be combined with just about every other wank described in this post.

X – The X-Rated Wank
This is the wank that you do deliberately for your partner. Sometimes also known as the Exhibitionist Wank. You are putting on a show. Your self-pleasure is as much for their arousal as it is for your own enjoyment.
Warning: Can lead to a long, hard, intense fuck.

Y – The “You Touch Me” Wank
Wanking is not a solitary experience. Having a partner bring you off with their fingers, or you doing it to them can be a deeply intense sexual experience.

Z – The Zumba Instructor
I’m cheating here because I can’t think of anything beginning with Z. That said, my Zumba instructor is seriously hot and I would love to do very naughty things to and with her. So maybe this is the category for all those fantasy filled wanks with the people you will never have.

So, there you go, my quick “A-Z” of Wanks, which I hope amused you.

#MasturbationMonday May Has Cum - World Masturbation Month

Finally


It’s such a wonderful feeling. The relief is as overwhelming as it is instantaneous.

Pushed to the brink of my endurance, taken to the very edge and the held there for what seems an eternity. I am way beyond tears. I no longer have the energy to sob and moan in my frustration. Every nerve inside me burns. The tension inside me is so great, I feel as if I would snap in two at the slightest pressure.

For minutes that seem like hours, days, an eternity, He has held me in that place, that deliciously agonising limbo

A slow boil.

A vigorous simmering.

The pressure mounting interminably, but the release valve locked tightly shut.

I want to explode. My need for release is a physical pain, burning through me. I both love and hate what He is forcing me to endure; craving release from my torment while knowing the longer He denies me, the sweeter, more exquisite will be my final surrender.

He is a maestro, a virtuoso; he plays my body skilfully and effortlessly. He has played and conducted his latest symphony upon me; and as the crescendo builds inside me, growing ever more intense, I await that flick of the conductor’s batton that will signal the grand finalé.

My breathing is pained. Lights flash with brilliant luminescence behind my tightly shut eyes. And then I hear His instruction, I hear the words I have been waiting an eternity for Him to utter.

Two words; that is all He says. Two words that, when obeyed, ignite my climax. Two words that will give me instant relief and such intense pleasure.

Two words said softly.

Two words.

“Touch yourself.”

Learning about self-pleasure


The early ’90s were a crap time to be a teenager, and in particular a teenage girl, and especially a permanently randy, sexually frustrated teenage girl like me.

Teenagers today have access to the internet. Back when I was a teenager, the internet, such as it was, may as well, have not existed. It certainly wasn’t available to a certain permanently randy, sexually frustrated teenage girl growing up in the back of beyond in a remote part of Scotland, and even if it been, my family didn’t even own a computer until about a year after I moved out to go to University. We didn’t even have the option of the Ladybird Book of Masturbation for Girls; and even if we had, getting hold of a copy wouldn’t exactly have been easy, not in a community where everyone knows everyone else, assuming they aren’t also related to them too.

Guys, I think, have it so much easier. They have a very obvious protuberance that fits quite nicely in the hand. They rub it, it feels good, they keep rubbing it, they cum. Now, I know the same thing, more or less, happens when we girls rub our clits, but I’m pretty sure my 13/14 year old self didn’t even know that the clitoris actually existed, nor what it was for.

I knew rubbing my boobs felt nice, but that didn’t really help. In fact, it actually made things worse as it just got me worked up and I didn’t know what to do to finish myself off.

My brother’s well thumbed porno mags didn’t help either. They showed pictures of girls sucking guys off, which I was already familiar with and had a certain proficiency. They showed couples fucking, which I was familiar with the theoretical mechanics of even though I wouldn’t do the ‘practical exam’ until I was  almost 16. They showed pictures of guys cumming over girls’ boobs and faces, which I didn’t really understand at the time, even if it was something I would soon become addicted to, even before I lost my virginity. But nowhere could I really get any information on how I could bring myself off. I could have asked my girlfriends, I guess, but eugh, embarrassing…

Ultimately, of course, it was “The Girl” who was to impart the wisdom of her (slightly greater) experience upon me, describing in lurid detail her newfound hobby and the effect it produced.

That night, I took my newfound knowledge and attempted to replicate what “The Girl” had told me with my fingers. It felt good. It felt very good. I couldn’t believe that it was really that simple. I came and I came hard.  Once I’d got myself back under control, I gave myself another very thorough fingering until I came again, even harder. From that moment on I was hooked and when, after leaving home to go to University, I discovered the joys that toys could bring, my status as a first class wanker was confirmed.

And so I remain. A self-confessed, and thoroughly addicted wanker. I do it on my own, I do it with Master C watching, I do it when I want. While I may have had my share of crap shags, I think it’s fair to say, I’ve never had a bad wank.

So, if time travel were possible, I’d find away to give my teenage self some much needed instruction and save her from so much frustration.

Watching myself


I sit on my bed across from the full length mirror on the wardrobe door. I part my legs and see my soft, pink labia reflected back at me.

I watch as I run my hands over my body, paying particular attention as I cup and caress and squeeze my boobs. I moan as I pinch my nipples. Does my face really look like that as I become aroused?

I guide a hand between my legs. A sigh escapes as I trace a finger between my lower lips. I watch as I spread my labia, revealing the opening to my cunt. Even now I can see my juices glistening as they begin to seep from me.

I see my grimace as I tease my clit. I notice how vulnerable I look as I bite my lip as I slowly slide one finger inside me. Is this what he sees when he watches me? Is this what turns him on so much?

A second finger feels so good as I pump and twist them inside me. My moisture coats their surface. I pull them from my cunt and lift them to my mouth. I savour the taste. How slutty I look. Do I look anything like this as I suck My Master’s cock? I hope that I do.

Feeling braver, I reach inside the bedside drawer for a toy; A long, sleek, stainless steel vibrator. It is cold to the touch but I know how good it feels on my clit.

I flick the switch, it buzzes into life, I guide it into place between my now swollen labia.

The first touch sends a jolt through me. My eyes open wide, I can see the hunger in my expression. I slowly move it around, teasing myself, all the time watching myself as I turn myself on.

I slide it inside me. It feels oh so good; cold brushed steel against the heat of my vagina. I marvel at how easily it fits inside me and how my hips begin to rock as it works its magic on me.

My need for release builds. I hold the tip to my clit. I watch my moisture trickle from my cunt as my clit responds to the vibrator’s caress.

My expression looks pained as my climax approaches. My mouth is wide open as I begin to moan.

I watch as my cunt contracts. I see the rippling tightening of my abdomen. Does my left leg always tremble like that when I’m about to cum? Do my nipples always darken like that?

The pressure builds. I grip the sheets with my free hand. My knuckles whiten. My hips begin to buck.

“Fuck! Oh Fuck!” I cry as my orgasm erupts within me. I see my face, contorted with what looks like pain but what I know is pleasure, a face that he must see every time he makes me cum.

I fall back on to the bed, unable to sit up any longer. The vibrator rips another intense orgasm from me before I let it slip from my fingers, to roll off the bed and land on the floor.

Eventually, I sit up; my face serene, my hair a disaster, the insides of my thighs covered with the essence of my sex.

A wonderful way to waste half an hour.

#Masturbation Monday

Why, where, how, when and how often?


I am, apparently,  quite literally a wanker of the highest order; if wanking were an Olympic sport, I’d like to think I’d be a strong contender for a medal, but how typical, or indeed atypical a wanker am I? How do I compare and contrast with my fellow members of the Sisterhood of Self Pleasure? If you are in anyway even remotely curious, read on…

Why?
It’s a question I’m sometimes asked: why, when I have a bloke on hand, whom I can fuck whenever I please, do I still need to wank?

Now, my “vanilla” friends clearly don’t understand the D/s dynamic of my relationship; and while I do have a man on hand, basically I fuck when He pleases, not when I do. If I want to fuck when I do, that’s what casual sex is for. That small point aside however, the reason I still wank is because I bloody love wanking. It feels great, I can take time to wallow in it and more importantly, Master C isn’t always around when I feel the urge to get off. Self-restraint has never been my thing; I’m all about instant gratification, and the idea of waiting for Master C to get home from work when I’m badly in need of an orgasm, just doesn’t compute; especially if it results in a spanking for succumbing to my impatience.  In a nutshell (or should that be clam shell?), if I want to cum, and the situation is conducive to me cumming, then I will cum. If a man (or woman) is involved, so much the better, but if not, well I’m not going to deny myself.

Another aspect is that masturbation plays a very important part of our sex life. Master C loves to watch me wank, and I love to put on a show wanking for him.

Where?
The simple answer is wherever I can get away with it. Indoors, outdoors, in private, in public, on public transport; really anywhere is fair game if I think I can get away with it. Let’s be honest here, a little bit of risk only adds to the fun.

If I had to admit a preference though, much as I enjoy the risks associated with a bit of (semi) public, furtive fanny fingering, I do like my home comforts. Probably my favourite places are my bed, the sofa, and in the bath.

How?
I have my toys, a whole host of toys, that I use fairly regularly. I have my Doxy for when I need to cum in next to no time. I have a couple of rabbits, one of which is waterproof. I have a very discreet one that looks like a lipstick that I carry around with me everywhere in my handbag for those “emergency” situations. I still have my original “Trident Missile“, although that is simply for nostalgia given that, mercifully, for the sake of my neighbours ears and, more importantly, my own nerves, the motor burned out many years ago.

Now while I love my toys, more often than not, like apparently 87% of women, I will use my fingers. Don’t get me wrong, toys are great, especially if I’m in a hurry, or I want to “guarantee” myself an orgasm, but if you really want a long, satisfying, lingering wank, then nothing, but nothing, beats the “sex toys” you were born with.

Using your fingers gives you the ultimate control. You can set the pace and they are so much more flexible than a rigid piece of plastic. I’m not knocking toys, toys are great, but my best orgasms are always produced when I go fully DIY.

When and How Often?
I’ve linked these two because, well really, one pretty much depends on each other.

I’ve already alluded to some of the times I wank, for example: when I’m randy and Master C isn’t around, when I’m with a partner and want to put on a show for them, when I’m randy and I think I can get away with it. I am, what I would probably describe as an opportunistic wanker. I don’t really have a set masturbatory routine. Having said that, I will, quite often after a hard day at work, flop down on the sofa as soon as I’ve hung up my coat (sometimes even before this), shove my fingers down my knickers (assuming I’m wearing any), and frig myself off. It’s a great way to wind down and relieve the stresses of the working day. Some people drink coffee, others, alcohol, me; I wank (although sometimes I will have a glass of wine too).

I’ve also been know to wank myself to sleep; something that apparently 32% of women do. Generally this happens when Master C is away on business; it helps distract me from not having him there to snuggle up to. As a teenager, once I’d discovered the joys of masturbation, it pretty much was the last thing I did before falling asleep almost every night. Nowadays though, I’m slightly more restrained. A “goodnight” fuck is a more than acceptable alternative.

So how often?  Well, I’m definitely in the 92% of women who regularly wank. In my case, very regularly.  I wouldn’t go as far as to say I have a wank every day.  After all, even the randiest of us have days where, well, let’s be honest, we simply aren’t actually in the mood. We’re ill, we’re too tired, or we simply can’t be arsed. Having said that, I frequently do have more than one wank during any given day; my record is, I’m pretty sure, in double figures. If you averaged it out over my wanking lifetime, it probably would work out pretty close to daily on average I guess.

So what have you learned from this? Other that I am a compulsive wanker, probably not much, and somehow, I suspect, you knew that much about me already.#Masturbation Monday

Getting off in public


There is, in my opinion, nothing hotter than having a very public, if secret orgasm. The fact that people are all around you, yet (assuming you are discreet) blissfully unaware of what is going on right under their noses, heightens the enjoyment of the experience.

I spend a lot of time on trains and planes, travelling for work. Wearing my ben-wa balls can keep me nicely simmering; however nothing, but nothing, helps pass the time on a long journey like a good wank.

Preparation is important. When I’m traveling by train, I like to make sure I’m wearing a skirt for ease of access. Wherever possible, I try to make sure I get a table seat. Once on the train, I open up my laptop, load up a meaningless spreadsheet that I can pretend to work on,  drape my coat over my lap for concealment purposes and, once everyone is sitting comfortably, I can begin.

The secret, I believe, is not to make any obvious movements. The naughtiness of the situation is already, for me, a massive turn-on. Just sitting there in the middle of the carriage, “minding my own business” as everyone else minds theirs, will have my cunt soaking in now time.

An occasional movement of the mouse, heightens the illusion that I’m concentrating on my work. In fairness I am, but the work in question is what my fingers are doing to my cunt.

I’ll order a coffee as the trolley goes past; sipping from the cup to make it look like nothing unusual is happening. Subterfuge and misdirection are the public wanker’s tools of the trade; drawing attention away from the “sleight of hand” that is taking place.

As my arousal builds, my cunt becomes increasingly wet. I become acutely aware of the soft squelching noises my fingers make as they play inside me.

I cough to stifle a moan; fanning myself with my free hand, trying to look for all the world like a woman who has taken too big a sip of her coffee and not like a wanton slut on the verge of a self-induced orgasm.

And now the fun bit begins; trying to keep myself on the brink for as long as possible. I stare intently at my laptop screen, not seeing anything as I hold myself on the edge. The pressure, the need for release become excruciating as I “suffer” in silence. The need for discretion adds to the intensity. Do I look flushed? Do I appear flustered? Is my coat still concealing what I am doing.

As the end becomes inevitable, I drain the remains of my coffee. Holding my now empty cup to my face for concealment, I surrender to my climax. I struggle to keep my body still as waves of intense pleasure spread through me. I bite down on the edge of my cup to stop myself from crying out. I’ve done this so many times, I know how to keep my climax from my fellow travellers.

As my destination approaches, I pack my laptop away, straighten my skirt under my coat, stand up and make my way to the toilet to wash my hands and my face. My knickers are uncomfortably wet, and I change them for the spare pair I keep in my bag for such purposes.

I return to my seat, continue to pack up, then alight from the train when it reaches my stop. I walk to the taxi rank, hail a cab, and set off, satisfied and relaxed ahead of my next meeting.

Finger fun


Much as I enjoy a good fuck, and I do, sometimes a good wank does wonders for the mood. I do love having Master C’s cock in my cunt, or his tongue on my clit, but sometimes He just isn’t there when I need to cum.

Sometimes, in fact often, if I’m being honest, I will call on the services of one or more of my toys, but sometimes a good fingering is the most effective form of pleasure. Ultimately the method doesn’t matter, it’s the results that are important.

After all, my fingers have over 20 years experience of making me cum and are very effective at the job in hand.

And, with that in mind, I’m off to make use of them for something other than typing right now…