The Right Note

I loved music when I was a teenager. All my spare time and cash went on getting my hands on music or going to see live music. I love the aspect of collecting it and seeking things out  and finding people you had the same musical tastes in common with. And I loved that it was a great way to meet men.

Men love women who are into things’ they think of as ‘boy’s interests’. Girls who love football or computer games or drink beer are often jokingly referred to as ‘cool girls‘ with the slight sting in the tail that no matter how  much you really love ninja movies or comics or whatever you will be accused of only doing it to impress men.

So while I loved the bands I was into, I also learned quite quickly that I could happily subvert the sexual stereotype to my own advantage and get fucked in the process. And on a couple of occasions I got my hands on an import only issue album as well as their cock. A win-win situation for me frankly.

On this occasion though it was a gig. I was about seventeen and they were a local band done good internationally coming home to an adoring crowd. It was the kind of night you know you’d talk about for years as a teenager and it would be packed. There’s a certain kind of freedom that comes with crowds.

I went with some friends and before the support band had even finished the set I’d some how lost them in the mass of people. I can’t remember if that bothered me to be on my own in a crowd of handsy men as a kid or I felt liberated by it. But I remember glancing round looking for a little space to carve out for myself and tucking into it.

Then I noticed the guy standing there too. Maybe I’d noticed them already and that was why I picked out that space, but I was completely aware of his presence. He just seemed to fill the space in a way that wasn’t at all intimidating. More in the way that made me want to lean against him.

We exchanged polite pleasantries, just enough to make it definitely consensual not not creepy. For some reason I remember that he was from Southampton which meant he was passing through and I wasn’t likely to see him again. This gave me permission to misbehave and embrace the fact he was in holiday mode when people behave the way they want not the way they should.

Luckily I was wearing a skirt. My grandmother would have described it as a belt with that tone of disapproval but that’s exactly why I loved it. It was probably the shortest skirt I’ve ever owned and looked like black leather. That skirt was my secret weapon for several years and I’ve always wanted to find one like it again.

Being December I was also wearing tights but as I slipped in front of the guy and leaned into his chest like guys do with their girlfriends at gigs to hold them in place away from thrashing arms and grabby hands, he reached down and used his thumbs to rip the crotch of my tights open. My underwear was easy to push aside so now he had perfect access.

I was pressed against him in an incredibly dark crowded space where no one could hear a single thing except the band and despite several thousands of people round us we had a surprising amount of privacy. He took advantage of that by using his fingers to make me arch my back and have to hold my myself up while he made me come in public.

He teased me that the more I squirmed and seemed to collapse against him he’d pull back and leave me on the edge making me stand up straight several times before allowing me to come and using his spare arm to hold me up as I ground down on his fingers and pressed against his incredibly hard cock.

Neither of us were paying any attention to the band. But luckily everyone else was. After the second, maybe third orgasm, he spun me round and started walking me out of the crowd. There was a balcony of seats upstairs in the venue which a few people were using for smoking and drinking smuggled in booze, but it was dark and barely noticed.

We went upstairs and he selected the darkest corner of the seats and sat down pulling me onto his knee turning my head so we could kiss looking for all intents and purposes like many of the other young couples at any gig who use it as an excuse to snog their partner to their favourite bands.

The only difference was that he had pulled his cock out of his fly without pulling his trousers down (I do miss when low slung baggy trousers were in fashion for men. They offered excellent opportunities for access) and was slowly positioning the rip in my tights over his erection.

For a few seconds I had to hold myself up enough to pull my underwear aside and line the angles up before his cock slipped right into my cunt so I literally slid down his dick and sat down hard on his lap. Still with my head turned as we kissed, it looked entirely more innocent than it was.

To keep it that way, he used the tilt of the cinema style seats to tip his hips forward and back gently to fuck me while I had to basically sit still and push my clenched cunt down onto his cock to get as much movement and friction as possible. Sometimes it doesn’t take much to make someone come and this was one of those moments.

He came hard into me, pulling me down tighter onto his lap and pressing his face into my back I presume to hide any noise or facial expressions that might give away that we weren’t just hugging. I remember he seemed to come for what felt like forever as he thrust into me more. I don’t recall if I came but when my Master does that now the feeling of it always pushed me into another orgasm so I presume I did.

We sat for a few minutes with his cock still in my cunt, leaning back and allowing the energy to come back for both us before disentangling ourselves. He walked me back downstairs and we watched the rest of the gig in comfortable silence.

The only difference was that while an hour earlier I had been delighted with the shortness of my skirt now I was hoping I wouldn’t accidentally flash the rip in the crotch that advertised I really was a slut not just a fan of short skirts…

The Right Note

Extreme

I’ve been enjoying recounting some of my old sex stories recently even if it’s been mildly embarrassing to realise what dubious taste in men younger me had. But I thought this week I’d treat you all to a tale of a decent guy for once.

I have never understood that line about men being more visual than women because trust me all the women I know have a finely honed sense of spotting someone they find hot at a hundred paces. It explains why we all bought so many women’s magazines in our teens to eye up the hot men (and maybe the women too.)

That’s where I spotted him first. A shared copy of a magazine with some friends on an article about the growing interest in extreme sports in the UK. In amongst the fellas with their trousers barely clinging to their arse, he looked more normal as well as the kind of good looking that turns your head.

I could see why the interview featured him so prominently as he had model looks combined with that air of pure filth. He was hands down the best looking man I’d ever seen. I bought a copy of the magazine on the way home from my friend’s house and developed an interest in extreme sports all of a sudden.

This turned out to be an excellent choice on my part. Not only is there quite a skill to admire in chucking yourself round on a BMX bike or skateboard, but it also does incredible things to a man’s arse. Which is how I found myself several years later sitting on a kerb watching men throw themselves at a ridiculously high ramp for fun when who should appear out of nowhere?

I thought I was hallucinating (or had died and gone to heaven) when he walked directly towards me and handed me two tickets for the after show party later before winking and walked off again. I nearly lost my balance on that kerb and definitely lost my cool when everyone stared at me and started trying to invite themselves along with me later. Men that good looking do not come along often.

Which made it ironic that I couldn’t bloody find him later at the party. I had to spend a lot of valuable time chatting to other men about ollies and half pipes and bike brakes like I actually gave a fuck and wasn’t just there to find the ridiculously good looking man who’d been on my mind for two years.

By the time the lights went up at the end of the night he was still missing in action and I was convinced I’d imagined meeting him earlier like some kind of handsome apparition. And then just as I went outside to hail a cab he appeared out of nowhere. I immediately forgot the cab and accepted his offer of a drink back at his hotel as I left to all eyes on me with the good looking stranger from out of town.

We bypassed the bar back at the hotel and went straight to his room instead, piling through the door like a movie cliche kissing each other frantically, pulling at clothes to get naked and falling onto the bed to fuck as quickly as possible. He had a body to match his beautiful face and the hotel had the kind of panoramic view over the city below that goes to your head.

I was on top of him in no time staring down at him and riding his cock lit only by the lights outside as he fucked me stupid that way so few men can do when you’re astride them. All too often men lie flat with their hips pressed to the bed making you do all the work in an awkward way that always made being on top the only way penetration didn’t make me come.

But this guy fucked me like nothing else I’d encountered. That well muscled arse and legs from all those extreme sports led to some very extreme fucking where he seemed to lift me off the bed with his cock so that I had to tip my body forward to stay on and pressed my clit and cunt against him making me come repeatedly in a way that I didn’t know was possible on top until then.

I’d lost count of how many times I’d come before he practically fucked me flat onto my back with the intensity of his own orgasm. We collapsed onto the bed in that breathless giddy well fucked way that feels like floating on air. I was about thank him for the amazing sex when we both jumped about ten feet in the air as someone’s voice said ‘oh you’re finished. I thought that would never end’.

It turned out that in our haste to fuck, neither of us had noticed that his room-mate was there sleeping in the room’s other bed until our enthusiastic fucking had woken him up and given him a full floor show. I was too orgasmed out to care that he had witnessed the whole thing and appreciated that at this point he took himself off to meet other people in the bar so we could carry on.

And carry on we did. Not only did we fuck again that night, we continued to fuck on and off for the next five years despite never living in the same city once and not exchanging contact details for the first two years. We just had a knack of bumping into each other around the UK and Ireland and falling into bed together every time, even once hiring a room by the hour to fuck before his train left London.

We eventially ended up dating properly for a year although we were much less successful at that than being fuck buddies. He remained the only man ever to make me come from being on top until I met my Master and I admit I was almost tempted to meet up for old times’ sake when he friended me on Facebook last year.

But I wasn’t surprised when he mentioned his friend had asked after me after all that time….

Extreme

Looking In

My Master and I were texting back and forth today as the toy he bought me has been putting ideas of submission in my head. I was imagining kneeling down for him as he bent that monster toy round to give me a clenched fist and five fingers at the same time and I couldn’t help but distract him with my thoughts at work.

I can’t take the credit completely for turning him on tonight when Princess was clearly horny at home with him too but I was delighted to get a text telling me that since she was sucking his cock, I needed to see how many times I could come before he did.

I was to get straight on my knees and ride the John Holmes toy for my first orgasm before working up to the Doxy for the second and sliding as many fingers in alongside the toy for the third. Sir was certainly in the mood to set me quite a challenge tonight.

Sadly my cunt was working quite as fast as his filthy mind and I couldn’t take the toy so he told me to be quick and move straight to the Doxy. Hearing that he had Princess on her back on the kitchen table right by the open window with the lights on for the neighbours to see them made me extremely horny.

I was glad I had chosen to fuck myself on the living room floor tonight so I could really picture them as if I was looking out my window and straight into theirs. Like I was watching them fuck half hoping for an audience, half completely engrossed in how horny they are for each other.

It didn’t take me long to come with the Doxy full speed on my cunt and texting my Master to thank him. He’d switched Princess for her back to her knees and was fucking her throat, coming just as his phone buzzed with my message. The timing was so perfect it definitely made me feel like a voyeur looking in on them but in a good way….

Looking In

Out Of Mind

My Master and Princess have been away for the weekend and because of that I haven’t spoken to them very much. I assumed they’d be pre-occupied and let them get on with it while I plotted a small surprise here for both of them. In fact that was so uppermost in mind that until I spoke to Sir about something else while they were in an airport, I sort of forgot they were still connected to the world as usual.

And it suddenly occurred to me that not only could they still, thanks to the wonders of smartphones, read my blog if they were killing time in an airport lounge but that it hadn’t even entered my head how either of them might feel about reading posts I’ve started writing about other people I’ve fucked.

I’m pretty sure both of them were aware that I’d had some experience beforehand (although if you believe in the concept of virginity, technically Princess took mine with women) but I hadn’t thought before I published if they’d mind reading actual details in the way it’s seen as inappropriate to discuss exes that way usually.

Such a tiny number of the men I’ve ever fucked could be described as an actual ex that I suppose in my head I’d drawn some kind of arbitrary line that it becomes more like describing a night out or a meal I once had. Plus our relationship has always been about sharing sexual things so I didn’t stop to think. Maybe if I’d done more ‘proper’ dating than fucking I’d be more used to automatically considering my partners in that way?

Still gut instinct tells me that despite being owned by my Master he’s not the possessive type in that way and that Princess is more likely to shake her head teasingly about my cunt first think later twenties since she’s always been the opposite to me and combined sex and emotions together.

So I’m pretty sure neither of them read it and felt jealous. But I wondered what else, if anything, it brought up? Are either of them reading it and thinking ‘for fuck’s sake, what were you thinking?’ as I recount a filthy anecdote that is also dripping in risk taking, bad decision making and not even stopping to think about self respect if there was cock to be chased.

It wouldn’t surprise me if it flashed across their mind as it’s certainly crossed mine a few times when I’ve been writing about my past and I want to ask the twenty three old me if she had any fucking sense whatsoever and would she like the number of my excellent therapist instead of a dating app.

I don’t regret my slutty past but I can’t help feel some embarrassment about some of my choices (and a profound sense of relief it was pre internet and pre camera phone.) But I hadn’t realised that it would bother me if my Master or Princess thought less of me for being an idiot rather than being slutty per se.

But then they both tease me affectionately about the married man I was fucking when I met my Master and the fact it took me nearly six months of sex to notice he didn’t have all his front teeth. And if they don’t necessarily judge me for that, then we could assume they aren’t going to start raising eyebrows now.

So what if there’s another possibility? And they find the stories hot? That in some ways it isn’t that different to fantasising about me in a scenario they might want to enact or watching me masturbate in a clip that they can put their own interpretation and kinks on? Maybe it gives them ideas of filth that it wouldn’t have occurred to me to tell them about but enjoyed?

Now that’s an incentive to blog more….

Out Of Mind

Go Global

Screen Shot 2017-09-25 at 13.32.53

I am not a traveller. I like to be close to home and near to my things like a proper home bird. My cunt however is much more cosmopolitan and enjoys the attention from all over the world that the blog and the clips afford it.

I’ve been loving seeing how that guest post for Girl On The Net changed my blog traffic (more readers for sure) and also from much further afield. I love that filth is a global language and I see hits from Fiji or Nigeria or China quite frequently.

When I was growing up the world was not as easily connected by air or online and things like stamps or pen pals from another country were still notable and I’m not even that old. So seeing these hits from places that are still so far away and different to my day to day world intrigues me.

I particularly wonder how someone in Sri Lanka or Saudi Arabia or Serbia comes across my cunt and my kinks. It’s like a bigger picture of my eternal interest in how kinks develop. Are you born with the predisposition and things throughout life trigger them off or do you actively seek them out because the interest is there?

Lots of people see the internet’s connection with porn and kink and sex as a bad thing and while I’m not a fan of the mainstream porn industry, I think the way the net brings consensual sexual interests together is a great thing.

I imagine someone in a country where sex expression is even less common than the UK stumbling across a photo of my cunt and discovering that stretching is a real thing it’s ok to like or realising that actually cunt turns them on when they never knew before. Or that they discover that poly relationships are a legitimate way to live from how I describe my Master and Princess.

I don’t for one minute think I have unlimited reach online but there is that awareness that in putting anything out there you can influence other people. Sharing stories and experiences is a way humans have bonded and developed for years and no matter how self aware we are we absorb stigma if we only ever hear things portrayed negatively or one way as ‘normal.’

I am sure I’d have made some dubious decisions along my sexual path anyway but I know I made more than needed because I didn’t have any access to the role model of kinkiness or queerness or non monogamy when I was younger and finding my feet. I wonder how different it would have been if that interest could have been validated instead of made to feel freakish or abnormal?

So I love that there’s even a tiny part that sex blogging about a niche kink plays in reminding people that their tastes might not be mainstream but they are valid. Because no one ever felt better about themselves or more turned on for being shamed for being themselves. Not even the people who like a humiliation kink thrive under that circumstance because it’s not the right context.

Here’s to spreading the word that there’s no one way to be sexually and that it’s a constant learning experience that virtual contact and validation can play a huge part in. I hope people reading sex blogs around the world, including this one, feel better about themselves and have better sexual experiences because of it.

I know I rather enjoy living in London and wondering if that person in Argentina is turned on by my cunt thousands of miles away or if someone in Poland will discover fisting this way. That’s a power dynamic I can’t help but get wet for…

Go Global

Dreams And Aspirations

Helmut Newton collar image

I’ve mentioned before that my favourite photographers are Helmut Newton and Guy Bourdin. I love their mix of sluttery, style and kink often hidden in plain sight to show off an ad for a suit or shoes. Even a smut-hound like me has often looked at those images and not seen the layers of objectification inherent.

That sense of objectification of women is of course the very reason some people don’t like this kind of photography because they say objectification is a negative. I suspect one of the differences between the kinky mindset and the non kinky one is the ability to see objectification in a wider context.

I know my Master sees me as a well rounded person. He knows my tastes in food and where I keep things in my house and sometimes pre-empts my reactions on things for me. I’ve loved seeing this side of our relationship develop and value it. But I also adore that in certain contexts he sees me as his sex toy and channels my inherent submissiveness  to use me as an object for pleasure and orgasms while never losing sight of my sense of self.

That’s why I can’t decide which of these Helmut Newton photos from a book I bought recently appeal to me more. Do I want to be collared on my knees for Sir or holding hands with Princess while it he makes one of us come? Luckily he gets to decide…

Helmut Newton submission

Dreams And Aspirations

Rest Well

I think it took a while for my Master to get used to the fact that 75% of the times he texted me with orders and asked where I was my reply was ‘in bed’. I like to think I started off sounding like some kind of lady of leisure lounging around ready to masturbate at the drop of a hat but quite quickly I had to explain that my health issues mean I have to rest a lot.

He’s a man who takes things in his stride with a minimum of drama so he took the opportunity for me to combine both bed rest and being ready to masturbate with many aspects of my training over the last few years. I suspect he now knows when I’m likely to be resting because his timing is impeccable with texts.

I was almost bored of conserving energy the other day when he told me to get up on my knees and ride the John Holmes toy for 10 minutes as a warm up. I was starting to get greedy for an orgasm when he told me to get up out of bed completely and take the big toy to the front room of my flat and use the suction base to fit it to the living room door that looks onto the outside space I share with my neighbours.

Once I’d put the dildo on the door I was to fuck it doggy style on my hands and knees for ten minutes knowing that my neighbours could technically see me pounding my cunt with a massive dildo if they happened to pass by. After ten minutes I was to put the Doxy on my clit piercing at full speed for a minute before I came with the huge cock still inside me.

I half love the exhibitionism my Master encourages in me and half struggle with the idea of being seen in sexual scenarios and this one pushed me. Being naked in front of my window, tits shaking getting fucked in potential full sight had me caught up in how good the toy felt pushing against my G-spot making me yearn to come when I had permission.

But then I’d remember what I was doing and where and I’d lose the motion and rhythm for a second and then I’d lean back and filled up and greedy to come again and fall back into the pattern. Ten minutes went much quicker than I expected and I didn’t even hesitate about putting the Doxy on my clit with my eyes shut feeling the orgasm tip over the edge for me.

I was spent from the exertion and ended up lying face first on the living room carpet, cock still inside me, texting my Master to thank him for the orgasm and tell him that I was considering just napping where I was. He promised me a reward if I could fall asleep with a massive cock inside me.

My only challenge was getting cold and uncomfortable on the carpet so I took the toy off the door and went back to bed, sliding it back into into my well fucked cunt before pulling the duvet over me and falling fast asleep almost instantly. I woke up half an hour later even hornier than when I went to sleep and almost had to double take to remind myself I had the toy inside.

Now that’s a reward in itself…

Rest Well