Heat Treatment

Autumn is here and yet my summer of bed bugs rolls on. The irony that I thought the days of risking these and STIs was over when I stopped my casual sex journeying around different bedrooms across the city is not lost on me.

My Master and Princess however have made the ick factor easier to deal with. Around Easter time, just as they went on holiday the other consequence of casual sluttery caught up with me when a small sore in a very sensitive place turned out to be herpes.

The awkwardness of that only lasted as long as having to text them both in time before they boarded a long flight and it didn’t look like I’d been fucking behind their back while they sunned themselves. By the time they were back from their trip, we’d all more or less forgotten about it and none of us have had issue since.

Bed bugs on the other hand are less painfully physically but truly one of the most stressful and unpleasant and oddly upsetting and violating experiences of my life. Herpes felt no more significant than a cold sore but these make me feel contagious and dirty and have brought up all kinds of psychological challenges I never expected.

As I’ve said before there’s been a distinct lack of fucking in my house recently and most of the dirty talk has been about the disgustingness of insects not the smut of sexual innuendo. But it’s also allowed me to see a whole new side of my relationship with both my partners and created a different kind of intimacy between us.

In fact I’m currently camped out for a day or two in their spare room while I wait for the new pest control company to solve the errors of the first pest control company and there’s something about sharing a living space I didn’t expect to enjoy as much having always been the third person in relationships with my almost pathological need for space.

Having their company and support has definitely made the whole invasiveness and awfulness easier. Having accidentally hired a bunch of incompetents to begin with having strange men in my house all summer has been mildly annoying rather than anything else but having now hired a company who know their stuff, it’s made me feel oddly exposed.

I think we all know that I have a fairly thick skin when it comes to sexual matters. I’m not an exhibitionist but I don’t waste time these days on unnecessary shame either. So I didn’t bat an eyelid when the pest control guy phoned to apologise that he’d had to move some of my underwear that I’d hung on a rail to be heat treated.

He didn’t reference that it was all stuff straight out of an escort site or the old school version of Agent Provocateur but just wanted to make sure I didn’t think they’d been being nosy. I appreciated the customer service and the proper job baking bed bugs to death and finally freeing my house up again.

But when he called back to say that in doing the rest of the inspection of my flat he’d had to move the bags in the bath, my face flared hotter than their heat treatment. In heating your house to 60 degrees to kill the bugs, you are advised to move things that will melt or explode such as aerosols or candles or ‘hand held electrical items’.

This meant I’d taken the bottles of lube and my Doxy out of the bedside table reluctant to make bed bug hell more horrible or expensive by damaging that too. I’d bagged them up and put them in the bath to protect them but a rogue bed bug in the bathroom had led to the technicians having to take my Doxy out and check it before having to phone me to tell me this.

I’ve rarely had a more awkward phone call. Having got up early and done more by 9am than I usually manage in a day I wasn’t thinking when the guy started stuttering about opening the bag in the bathroom. Tiredness had me thinking it was the bag of facecloths I’d left to hot wash but the heat of embarrassment made me squirm inside when he practically whispered the words ‘personal toy’.

Two thoughts went through my head at this point. ‘Thank god I hid all the dildos in the garden’ and ‘thank god I never have to see you again’. I’ve heard ‘sluts never get cold’ but I was unprepared for the burning sensations in my cheeks and chest of knowing there were two complete strangers in my house holding my super powerful sex toy and seeing my sluttiest underwear and I had no idea what they were saying or thinking about it.

There is such a world of difference between the sexual image you portray to the outside world and style yourself as and the side people see by accident. I felt as awkward and obvious as the times someone has walked in on me fucking or seen me without invitation. If Sir had told me to leave the Doxy where it might have been spotted, I’d have felt no shame (even though I’d probably have declined due to workplace sexual harassment.)

But this inadvertent sneak peek into my sexual life left me surprisingly uncomfortable all day. When I went home, everything was packed neatly and without any sense of voyeurism but each detail made me wince. The giant jiggle balls in the same bag. The fact the lube is actually for anal play. The purse full of spare condoms long since not needed in a long term relationship. The Helmut Newton photos in the bathroom.

Your home hides and displays so much of you when you invite people into it and while mine paints an accurately slutty and sexual image of me, I also realised I don’t want that conveyed to strangers especially by accident. Like Loyd Grossman had gone through the X rated keyhole, I hoped I hadn’t just become pest control gossip.

But it did take my mind off the bed bugs. Especially when the company called to say they’d be sending the technician back in ten days to inspect the property and I realised I would have to stand face to face with him trying not to show my embarrassment and knowing there would be no point hiding anything now.

If I wanted to the bed bugs to die before now, I had an almost equal urge to curl up and die myself. Clearly I’ve met my slutty kryptonite in bed bugs and I need them gone if I am to regain my sexual superpowers…

Heat Treatment

Textures

Nothing has ever stood in the way of my sex life quite like having bed bugs (and apparently having hired the pest control equivalent of the Chuckle Brothers to sort the problem.) Months in and I now have no actual bed which cramps one’s style supremely.

I half joking tried using the Doxy while perched on this massive essentially balloon and the whole ‘on holiday but definitely not a sexy mini break’ vibe meant I just couldn’t get in the mood. It was as erotic as queuing for a shower at a campsite.

And then about 36 hours later to compound the saga, the seam popped on my airbed and I had to buy a new one. So be warned, the Doxy is so powerful it can break beds. I’ve put mine quietly away until I am more than 18 inches off the ground on a giant cushion just in case I burst it too and end up in A&E with an embarrassing tale to tell.

But worse than this, the constant bed bug siege means the bed, normally a place of rest and calm and enjoyment for me has become a battleground. I’m jumping at every piece of fluff, Sir has been bribed into doing manly acts moving the frame rather than manly acts to me on the frame and Princess is on bite watch. All of us are terrified of infesting their flat as well.

I’ve been getting naked as decontamination not foreplay and been terrified to go near their bed *just in case* but on Friday night Princess had a reason to be wearing latex panties and we realised that we were bed bug proofed in the hottest possible way allowing us to play while not undressing.

I put Princess on her hands and knees and ran the Doxy over her latex clad cunt and up and down her thighs and finally she got why Sir and I love the feel of it so much. This time the Doxy and the rubber worked to break Princess in all the best ways. The texture allowed the vibrations to pulse right through to her clit as I stroked and teased that soft sensitive skin right at the edge of the panties until she came hard and begging for even more sensation.

She’s rarely looked hotter than in latex with smoky eye make up and that look of utterly being undone by an orgasm she didn’t believe would happen. I love knowing her body better than her sometimes. It fills me with pure joy to give her that much pleasure.

And it made me ridiculous horny too. I was wearing a pair of jeans since right now I need clothes you can wash on 60 degrees to beat the bugs. No slinky skimpy lingerie for me at the moment. In fact I’ve become so dedicated to Sir’s order not to wear panties for him I didn’t even have them under my jeans.

Normally the seam on jeans makes them annoying to wear without underwear but right now having it press against my clit and rubbing against the Princess’s latex it was perfect. She was so wet I could hear the latex lubricating itself and I didn’t care if I left a wet patch on my own outfit.

She ran the Doxy over my cunt as she pulled the material up and down against my clit using fabric as much as a sex toy as the vibrator. And each time I squirmed hard enough to push to orgasm, she pulled the fabric as far from my cunt as possible to edge me.

And when I got a tiny bit bratty trying to pull the denim down again she pushed my hands over my head and since it was an evening about textures, she pulled her fishnet stocking off and tied me up with them.

Sir always wanted me to domme Princess but recently she’s discovered that I’m so naturally submissive that her taking control of me makes me even hotter for her and she very much likes telling me what to do. And as much as I love giving pleasure I’ve discovered that I love lying back and taking pleasure with no other distraction.

I was blissed out lying back and hands over my head and ready to be given pleasure like a the slutty version of a cat wanting to be adored when Princess stopped me zoning out by sliding my zip down and spanking my bare cunt.

She spent a while edging me back and forth, slap, smack, stop until I actually asked to come because I was so desperate to let go and just enjoy one of those orgasms that takes you right over with Princess’s hands on my bare skin and the Doxy pulsing against my swollen clit.

Definitely the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on for quite some time…

 

Textures

The Edge

I won’t lie. I haven’t been blogging much because I was distracted by some big old life stuff too but it’s mainly because my bed bug problem continues with seemingly no end in sight. Apparently the heatwave has caused an increase in them especially in London and mine have been compounded by a company who don’t know their arse from their elbow dragging out the treatment for weeks.

Not even my best flirting with workmen skills have helped this time because a) I can’t fuck a man who deals with wasps for a living without crying and b) no man wants to sleep with a woman who he knows has bed bugs. It’s the slutty customer service stand off. And it’s been miserable.

Princess reacts badly to the bites swelling up and itching and I’m also acutely aware of the risk of bringing them to her and Sir’s house. The things people do not mention in the peppy little articles about poly and safe sex. So while I’ve been seeing quite a lot of Sir and Princess, it hasn’t involved much time in bed.

Part of me has loved branching out into much more conventional ‘dating’ behaviours as a triad and I’ve enjoyed each trip to the park, dinner cooked, movie watched or night out but much as I like the boyfriend/girlfriend aspect of my relationship with them, I don’t want to  be just friends. I want to fuck them too.

So it all appeared to be back on track and Princess was ready to sleep over last week and took the opportunity to try the newly positioned bed (thanks to the bed bugs) out by tying my hands over my head and edging me for some time by slapping my cunt until I came in a squirming heap. But sadly it was her with the red marks when we’d finished not me and she had to go home leaving me to sleep alone.

But like when you allow yourself just one small taste of anything, it made me unable to keep pretending I wasn’t horny and I wasn’t missing our usual fucking habits. And I think it might have done the same to my Master and Princess because yesterday turned into all about orgasms.

Princess and I whiled a way a wait for Sir to get back from work with her capturing her enjoyment of giving me orders and controlling my orgasm again. She brought me so close to orgasm with some well placed spanks to my clit piercing I begged her to let come and then rewarded her with some undivided attention to her own clit until we were both in that state of ‘I might burst if I have another orgasm but I don’t want to stop.’

We hadn’t mentioned our greed to Sir instead sitting down to dinner when he got home and enjoying some good news but maybe he picked up the mood because instead of crashing out early after a business trip like he often does, he was in the mood to initiate orgasms.

He’s bought a pair of spectacular heeled platform boots and came into the living room to show me them. He’s a tall man anyway but in these he was towering over both us, legs for miles and cock enjoying the feel as much as Princess and I were. Almost 6 inches taller than normal, he had us take turns to kneel and suck his cock, gaining extra enjoyment from the extra effort it took both of us to reach it.

And that extra height made sucking cock all the more intense for me, slipping further down my throat than I can usually take. Princess’s deepthroat skills are second to none but mine are tentative to say the least. There’s always a moment I simultaneously think ‘oh yes’ and ‘I can’t’ and I lose my confidence and stop.

Sir pushed me hard last night with this point putting me on my hands and knees on the bed while he fucked my throat and pulled my hair and stroked my back and the pleasure/pain moment was even more overlapping than usual during deepthroat. I loved it and hated it and wanted more and wanted to stop. I wanted to please him and I wanted to fight him to get away.

But while my brain panics and my body isn’t sure, my cunt knows exactly how it feels with my clit being swollen under Princess’s fingers while Sir pushed my throat to its limits and I came for them both. I do so much love that extra edge pushing myself to submit adds to sexual acts for me.

And then I found the other aspect to my Master standing closer to seven feet tall than six feet. His cock goes even deeper into my cunt than before. Every time he fucks me I wonder if my cunt has a limit for cock and last night I realised once and for all, it doesn’t. There is at point at which his cock is too much. He fucked me harder and deeper than I think he’s ever done all balanced on high heels and it reduced me to such a cock slut I genuinely thought I was going to squirt from penetrative sex for the first time ever.

I actually didn’t really notice his orgasm or Princess’s orgasm I was so wrapped up in coming over and over again on him fucking me into a whole new level of cock worship. I love that feeling inside my cunt afterwards when you can feel just fucked you’ve been but last night I could feel it on the outside too.

The pleasure/pain of the whole evening continued every time I sat down or moved and felt the sexual equivalent of a well worked muscles and it sent a little shiver of enjoyment into my whole body with each reminder. I presume this what virtuous people feel when they hike high mountains and the body feels like muscle memory and achievement. I scale the heights of cock instead.

And best of all, Sir was all pleasure and no pain in his heels so hopefully he’ll be keen to use the boots to dom me into a greedy fuck toy again soon…

The Edge

Heating Up

I am usually a pale Irish person wrapped up in layers like a human onion and having a passionate affair with my electric blanket and revelling in cold weather. But I am absolutely loving this hot weather in London at the moment.

Normally hot weather gets me super horny and ready to reach for the ice cubes but I’ve been a bit distracted by the ongoing life admin of the last month and the my bed still isn’t quite ready for human visitors again sadly so my libido hasn’t reached quite the heights of the thermometer yet.

But I’ve been rediscovering the simple joys of spending times lying in parks in hot weather with people you want to fuck. There are few more enjoyable things than this for me. Something about the heat, the fact you aren’t wearing that many clothes and being relaxed and lazy creating both intimacy and the thought of fucking later. It’s such a rare pleasure in a climate like ours and I love that I’ve been able to do it so often this summer.

My Master and Princess and I made the most of Pride a few weekends ago lying in the park together after they were on their floats. We got delightfully tipsy and took advantage of the fact Pride is not only the day you can be openly LBGTQ+ in the city but openly polyamorous too. We could laze around all afternoon obviously touching each other like partners can do to show affection and ‘coupledom’ which otherwise might cause people to react strangely.

We made even more of it by walking hand in hand across the as the three of us to Vauxhall for a night out before coming home to fuck on the sofa, made horny by public shows of affection, vodka and how relaxed London is at Pride.

Princess sat astride me while I put the Doxy between my legs and fucked herself against it like the biggest cock possible while my Master watched us cock in hand and we all tumbled into bed sleepy with alcohol, orgasms and the heat. He was even hornier next morning with his hangover and fucked me so hard and deep for long I could feel it in my cunt for the rest of the day each time I moved position lying in the park again all day.

It reminded me of long hot summers when I was younger when heat made me seek out cock even more than my usual slutty self. There was the summer of 1995 when I had finished my GCSEs and Northern Ireland found peace for the first time. My shifts at a diner that opened til the wee small hours gave me ample opportunity to meet men all summer.

There were countless nights coming home in the broad daylight of dawn, knickers stuffed in my handbag after staring off drinking on sunny evenings and dancing indoors in the dark forgetting it would be bright again when you stumbled out the club or house party.

Then there were long afternoons in the park with the guy who would become my boyfriend where I pretended to be a good girl who would only let him put his hand down my bikini bottoms when he’d rolled me one of his excellent joints. I’d suck his cock in his baking hot bedroom with the windows so wide open the neighbours could probably watch and then do the same at work in the walk in freezer with the door propped open so anyone could have caught us.

Those long hot summers that feel careful and endless are perfect for fucking and I was lucky enough to get another one just after I moved to London. I seemed to spend the whole summer in a bikini top and a denim skirt that barely covered my ass soaking up the company of men who looked good with low slung jeans and no shirts on.

I kept my cunt shaved so the only bush in town was the ones I’d lie behind so one particular guy who liked the great outdoors could lie on his back drinking a beer and chatting casually with his friends while subtly stroking my cunt and making me come silently and secretly as if nothing was going on.

I also had a semi regular thing going with a beautiful man from Australia who seemed to bar tend in all the best dive bars and clubs under a railway arch over the city. I’d get a text telling me where every so often and turn up to avail myself of the free drinks he’d pour me until I was tipsy enough to follow his orders to flirt and dance with other men knowing it turned him on.

I’d be pressed skin to skin to a strange man feeling that frisson of heat and sweat in a confined space knowing that if I looked over the bartender would be watching me and his cock would be hard. We’ll fall in cabs after his shift and behave in disgraceful ways that Uber ratings have rendered impossible in 2018 but that got him well and truly ready to fuck all night.

But the best nights of that summer were with another semi regular fuck buddy who happened to live in the OXO Tower. I never established if he was lucky enough to have the coveted social housing in there or the sub-let of all time but high above the South Bank looking out over the shimmering heat and sparkling lights as the river reflected both back up again, it created a London bubble of misbehaviour I revelled in.

Tucked a few floors below the posh restaurant, barely visible from the street and with balconies big enough to keep the neighbours away, I spent more than one night there kneeling down, sucking his cock and staring up at the London scene around me. Other evenings we both stripped naked, drinking chilled white wine on the balcony and fucking.

I seem to recall losing a pair of panties over the side of the balcony on on occasion and walking home with a breeze up my skirt failed to curb my horniness or sluttiness. In fact thinking about it makes me think I need to up my slutty game this summer while the heatwave lasts….

Heating Up

Groupie

Princess and I are basically opposites in every way except one crucial one. Both being sluts, we were obsessed with the groupie lifestyle when we were teenagers. I suspect this was a bit of a chicken and egg situation. I don’t know if being a born slut made me seek this stuff out or if coming across it made me a slut but unlike chicken and eggs, you can combine both to enhance your enjoyment.

Sadly neither Princess or I grew up anywhere with access to being a proper groupie (although my first ever email address did have a reference to wanting to as I drunkenly allowed a friend to pick it for me and she clearly knew me well.)

Princess stuck to reading Pamela des Barres’ book along with listening to the music of those who had the pick of those notorious groupies. And clearly she had better taste in sexual fantasies than my teenage interests in tight trousered, big haired LA cock rockers because she neither regrets her early email addresses or her sexual awakenings.

These days I’d probably decline my chances with some of the men I dreamed of back then (debauchery means most haven’t aged well) but my original fantasy has never got old. I’d still get down on my knees in front of a line of horny men with hard cocks and suck their cocks in turn as they watched each other.

So when Princess and Sir went to see the Rolling Stones recently and she revelled in reliving her teenage feelings about Mick Jagger it made me wonder who my band line up would be now if I was creating my own supergroup of cocks to suck. Being indecisive I didn’t make any firm choices but there was one person I’d never say no to and would take any chance to let my inner groupie out to play with.

I have never been a fan of Led Zeppelin’s music but from an early age Robert Plant in leather trousers made me feel all kinds of things I didn’t completely understand. The infamous mud shark story left me with a guilty sense that I should be more disgusted than I was but definitely should have alerted me to my kinky interests sooner.

I think I’ve made my feelings about men feeling the need to speak to women in public clear before. So when years ago when standing perusing a selection of biscuits in a posh deli in central London I whipped my head round ready to use the equivalent of Choco-Liebniz as a weapon when I heard a man striking up conversation about cookies with me.

I could literally feel my mouth fall open as time stuttered into freeze frames and the biscuits hung in my hands like I had T-rex arms as I realised that man was in fact Robert Plant. Large as life and right in front of me discussing biscuits as my mind immediately ricocheted between blank incomprehension, disbelief, filthy thoughts and guilt over my (literally) naked objectification of him over decades. I may even have blushed.

Unlike many hell raisers, he wore living well extremely well and there was definitely that sense of sexual confidence I’d always imagined. I stuttered something back about the biscuits my mouth as dry as my knickers were suddenly wet and I almost willed him to leave me alone before I was so star struck I embarrassed myself.

I must be able to bullshit brilliantly about biscuits because he started asking me questions and advice on cake too. My mouth kept answering calmly and logically about marzipan while my mind screamed at me to just abandon all my life rules about consent and hang ups about initiating sex and just throw myself at him in public right now.

Each time I opened my mouth to reply to his conversation I had to double check I hadn’t just said ‘fuck me now’. I didn’t have the background of Continental foods in mind when I’d fantasised about sucking his cock, but sluts are nothing if not adaptable. I could fuck a long term obsession up against a freezer if it was my only chance and not care about the criminal record for public indecency to fulfil a lifetime ambition.

Being a slow learner and prone to overthinking I started to think as the conversation went on that actually he’d mistaken my taste for dressing all in black for being the shop staff instead of anything raunchier. And then I heard him say ‘shall I get us a coffee then?’ I don’t drink coffee but as I say, sluts will be flexible the situation calls for it.

Before I could accidentally sabotage myself, he ushered me to a table, paid for the cake and biscuits we’d been conversing about and ordered drinks. I attempted to look nonchalant, pretending as such things were everyday occurrences to me. I wondered if I should Google the nearest hotel where he could take me and fuck me senseless or if international rock stars with a reputation knew these things without my help. I did think fast enough to text the friend I was meeting to ask could we cancel, knowing fine rightly I’d fake my own death if that was the only way to excuse myself.

A cup of coffee and some cake appeared on the table and he sat down waiting for the waitress to bring the rest. I normally love flirting. Flirting is foreplay usually. But twenty plus years of fantasising is also foreplay and I needed little else. He started eating the cake and asking me about myself rather than prolonging any more chat about baked goods.

Robert Plant was quite definitely flirting with me and I have no idea what I told him. In my mind he was giving me orders to strip for him, not asking about my interests and hobbies. What do you say to this? Well, I enjoy going out and staying in and picturing your cock going in and out of my mouth until my eyeliner runs and I beg you to fuck me?

I was almost relieved when the waitress came over to give me a moment to breathe. I needed a moment to regroup my slutty superpowers. I waited for the second coffee to be set on the table so I could flirt properly. And waited. The pause was momentarily longer than expected and I looked around to hear him say ‘oh did we arrange to meet here?’

It was me guilty of mistaking someone for the shop staff this time as the well dressed young woman in front of use was clearly his girlfriend and if looks could kill, it wouldn’t be my awkward flirting that finished me off after all.

I introduced myself as politely as you can when you were shamelessly about to fuck someone’s partner as he started the kind of innocent explanation as to why we were having coffee that only ever sounds extremely incriminating. I’ve rarely felt as frustrated in my life sitting there as she whisked him away briskly making damned sure I didn’t have the chance to pass him my number and cursed that he of all people didn’t have an open relationship.

His girlfriend then insisted on ordering drinks to take out so they were standing just enough in my line of sight as to be both awkward and tantalising in equal measure. Plus I had to sit and drink the coffee I hate in order to cover my less than innocent intentions while kissing goodbye to the chance to turn my adolescent fantasies into very adult actions.

I watched them walk out just as my extremely prudish friend walked in. She hadn’t got my text and she certainly hadn’t got the interest in slutty men I did so I couldn’t even share my moment of almost groupie glory with her.

Instead I sat and nodded occasionally as she talked as I used my brush with reality to really enhance my fantasies for when I got home. I think the orgasm was definitely increased by the delayed gratification but also the seal of approval of my sluttiness by one who knows best…

Groupie

Working It

One of the many things I’ve learned by fucking Princess for almost two years is weirdly to appreciate men more. Because until I had a go at fucking someone else with a cock, I had no idea what hard work it is.

I sort of assumed it was similar to being fucked in that you could make it as energetic or not as you wanted but only when I first tried using a strap on on Princess did I realise it’s a world apart. There’s a lot more rhythm and angle skills going on required practise than I quite understood (blame this on me starting my fucking life with grown men and not teen boys still finding their way.)

And more than that, it takes core strength and stamina I had never imagined. How anyone with a cock fucks someone to orgasm was beyond mine. No wonder so many men like to lie back like a log in a wood you’ve been able to mount and let you fuck them on top without them moving. They need the rest.

Luckily Princess prefers my penetration of her to involve fingers so I’ve been able to skive off and save my muscles and the shame of having stop each time it gets good and starting to hit the spot and regroup. My version of nailing someone with my strap on is about as good as I am at banging actual nails in walls.

Princess however is getting seriously good with the double ended dildo (which reminds me to buy one for my flat too. You know a sex toy is good when you literally double up.) She’s developed quite the knack of fucking me to multiple orgasms with it. Her cunt is tighter so grips it better and my stretched cunt just loves any kind of penetration and gobbles up a good fuck.

We’d been playing with the double ended dildo when my Master was away recently and I’d absolutely loved her technique with it squirming and hoping it would make me squirt. Perhaps subliminally I’d left it by their bed when Sir got home. So when we all woke up from a little power nap feeling horny it was no wonder his eye lit on it.

He lay back cock in hand and ordered Princess to fuck me with the dildo while he watched. Once I was wet and wanting more, he lay over her and put his cock in her mouth as she kept fucking me. Her rhythm skills are definitely above mine keeping both cocks moving and happy as she was used by both of us.

Just as I was getting very into being fucked as she sucked, Sir sensed that I was being rather lazy and ordered me make more effort and start fucking Princess instead of making her do all the work. It felt hot to have my legs so open to slip the toy into her while she had her head thrown back swallowing Sir’s cock but it took me a while to find my stroke.

I had to fuck her cunt at half the speed my Master was fucking her throat but the problem was that doing it was making me so wet and turned on my cunt was even more stretched and open than usual and the dildo was hard to hold in place to keep going.

I need a double ended toy with a smaller size for Princess and the width and heft of the John Holmes for me. Why do all the double ended toys assume both users want the same dimensions as each other? And why so many toys designed to be held in the cunt not work with the wetness of a well lubricated one?

Whether you are fucking another woman or pegging someone, there are few things hotter and wetter to do but lubrication becomes your enemy with an in-cunt toy especially if you aren’t a very set size of tightness. I pouted and complained that my fun was being spoiled and Sir quite rightly punished me for my brattiness.

He took the toy out of my cunt and turned me onto my side on his cock and fucked me so hard I had to curl up in a ball as he held me against him, pulling my hair at the same time and shut me up with the skill of his stamina and rhythm. Princess kept the dildo in her cunt and pressed the Doxy against her clit watching us fuck.

I presume she came like the Doxy slut she is but I was distracted by my Master coming into me hard enough to make me do things I didn’t know my core muscles could do with a cock inside me either.

If he hadn’t made me come hard enough to lie down, I think I might have been tempted to use his come to see how it helped the double ended dildo hold in place in my cunt and see if I could give Princess another orgasm.

Definitely one to try in a future threesome once i’ve had time to practise my angles and abs more…

Working It

Pillow Princess

I love Eurovision. Partly because I’m Irish and we excel at it and partly because it’s such high camp it’s known as Gay Christmas. I love the unbridled kitsch of it from costumes to songs you really shouldn’t love but do. I even forgive it for unleashing Michael Flatley on the world. And I adore that it owns its LGBTQ+ heritage and often shows the mainstream world aspects of queer culture they didn’t know about before.

In fact it was the one day of year the gayness didn’t have to hide or make itself acceptable in 80s and 90s Ireland and so I was very very surprised on my first Eurovision in England that there was a lack of campness or kitsch around it, more lot of self knowing jokes about European history. So when I found myself at my first English Eurovision party listening to middle class uni types winking about the former Czechoslovakia’s voting intentions I did the only thing you can do. I necked all the gin I could find and fucked the hostess’s flatmate without her knowing.

He was a ridiculously good looking semi professional swimmer with the smooth sleek body and core strength of someone who spends a lot of time in the pool. He was also very serious and bookish and totally out of his comfort zone with a tipsy Irish woman who actually likes the music at Eurovision rather than showing off their intellect ironically.

Yet he happily kept pouring me drinks and asking me lots of questions about Irish politics and the border in a very serious attempt to geekily flirt and offered to stay behind to help me clear up when I insisted on doing so to thank our hostess for her hospitality. She went to bed grateful and gin filled and left us to it unaware my intentions were not as clean as my manners.

So I came in from the kitchen irritated to see that my crush was carefully laying out a sleeping bag on the sofa for me. There’s nothing like thinking you’ve been cock blocked by something as ugly as practical sleepwear. I tried to shake the rejection off with a gracious smile until he said ‘ the pillows are in my bedroom. You should come with me to get them.’

I did not need asking twice because even if I was mis-reading the signals I need two pillows to sleep or I hate the world. But once inside his room, his upright demeanour seemed to disappear and within seconds, his smooth body was wrapped round mine and we were kissing hard.

It was like one of those TV sex scenes where you kiss hard enough to devour each other and start pulling your clothes off at the same time. He was lying back on the bed watching me undress when I realised he was actually wearing a pair of tiny swimming trunks and nothing else.

Normally I’d judge the shit out of a man who wears his sports kit in scenarios not involving said sport. Plus I’d have my ‘oh really?’ face on if confronted by the dreaded budgie smugglers with their image of middle aged European lotharios but maybe out of Euro solidarity, I didn’t mind so much that night.

Not only did he have the kind of body made for them including those well defined crests above the hips that serious swimmers get, he also had a beautiful thick hard cock poking out of the top of them. One of my favourite things is a ready to fuck cock rising out of a waistband like an erotic invitation and this was a particularly glorious example of the genre.

He pulled me on top of him and rubbed his hard but semi clad cock against my very bare cunt as we kissed again. I had much smaller tits in those days and he took delight in sucking my nipples hard and biting them in between kisses, using his knees to lift me away from his cock when I squirmed too greedily against it.

Having made me wait all night, he was going to keep me waiting a little bit longer before I got my hands or mouth on his cock. He pulled me up and turned me round onto my hands and knees over him with my ass in his face so I could look down at his incredibly hard cock but unable to touch.

He slipped two fingers into my incredibly wet cunt and proceeded to lick my ass with great enthusiasm much to my surprise. Certainly not something I’d encountered back in Ireland either, it was yet another English twist to the evening. The taboo feel of it made it more enjoyable than the act itself but it was the effect it was having on his cock that made me a big fan.

Making me come with his fingers, he pulled those teasing trunks down enough with the other hand to let his cock spring free. Even harder than it had been and glistening with that pre come that shows just how turned on a guy is, he finally pulled me down onto it and fucked me hard.

I do love that moment when you finally get a cock inside you and this felt particularly good from the delayed gratification and how clearly horny he was. I’ve rarely fucked in that position as usually being on top is about seeing the man’s face but following on from him eating my ass it worked well. He came hard into me as I ground against his hips for another orgasm for myself.

It probably would have been a better finish if he hadn’t reminded me while I was still on top of him, cock inside me not to forget the pillows I’d come for. I awkwardly scooped up clothes and dressed again aware of his come dripping out of me as I did and went back to my sleeping bag on the sofa.

My only small comfort was that I scooped up his trunks along with my clothes and kept them to remind me and to inconvenience the fuck of him next time he tried to dress for training. Sluts get the best revenge…

Pillow Princess