Near Miss

I’ve been enjoying re-living the men I’ve fucked in the past for the last few weeks here as a little Thursday nostalgia trip but this week I thought I’d shake things up a little bit with a man I didn’t consider I’d fucked at the time.

Back in my 100% straight days I had the heterosexual special view of sex that with men and women it had to be penis in vagina to count for me. Some of this attitude was social conditioning (see how society views the concept of virginity for example) and some was an arbitrary rule to keep my already socially very unacceptable number that little bit lower.

Surely oral didn’t count? Or not actually having an orgasm? Maybe not being completely naked? Had we been formally introduced? Did he pay me? I wasn’t ashamed per se but slightly overwhelmed I think. So if his dick hadn’t penetrated my cunt, it didn’t count in those days. My mileage has changed somewhat since.

I wasn’t really debating the finer points of sexual politics though when I met him. I was on a work night out with all my colleagues and hating every single second of it. It was how I imagine hen dos are without the aggressive penis branding. All Saturday night shrieking and I went to hide at the bar instead of joining the table service shots.

I got chatting to a tall broad shouldered handsome man with a voice like velvet and hands like paws. He was Norwegian and a carpenter and a million times more interesting and soothing than Flaming Sambuccas. And as luck would have it free the next night for drinks. I escaped back to my co workers without them spotting him and arranged to meet him in my favourite hipster Shoreditch bar.

I was a bit nervous when I went to meet him. I was worried he’d seemed much more handsome and alluring because I had been in such a bad mood the night before. Maybe he’d be dull and my standards had been low. Perhaps he was blonder and more wholesome than I recalled?

I needed have worried. His hair and conversation were just the right shade of dirty and the evening flew by in a haze of strong cocktails and intense flirting. I ended up sitting on his lap on a sofa in the bar and even if it hadn’t been closing time on a Sunday night, that was the cue to go home together.

He lived nearby in a beautiful flat unsurprisingly full of  wood and stylish furniture he’d made himself. He led me round by the hand giving me a full tour and somehow setting the pace for the rest of the night it seemed. He guided me into the kitchen, pressing me against the wooden worktops as he opened the fridge and handed me a bottle of very expensive champagne to open.

I was literally twisting the bottle and edging the cork out when he said ‘by the way, you should probably know now that I’m impotent’. There was the merest breath of a pause as his words filled the kitchen and the cork fizzed off the bottle over my hand with the most inappropriately judgemental sound I’d ever heard and a timing you simply couldn’t fake.

Still holding the champagne and suddenly sober I reached up and kissed him, half horny, half desperate not to make things awkward. It was the right thing to do. I felt him imperceptibly relax and kiss me back. What could have been a cold shower suddenly got very hot

Next thing I knew he was lifting me up onto the kitchen counter and pulling my underwear down and his face was pressed into my soaking wet cunt. I was still holding the bottle of champagne and being drunk on both nerves and booze, leaned back with my legs wide open and pussy pressed up into his face and let him lick me to an orgasm while I drank champagne straight out of the bottle.

Champagne and cunt taste excellent together when you kiss someone straight from yourself and we continued kissing and him making me come repeatedlly with his tongue and fingers on the sofa til the bottle was empty as we took turns to swig from it before we eventually fell asleep like that.

I woke up a few hours later on the sofa alone and realised he’d gone to bed without trying to move me or even cover me up and sensed that he wanted me and my knowledge of his body gone. I hunted in the semi darkness of the kitchen for my underwear and left without it when there was no sign.

In the brighter light of the street it really couldn’t have been more obvious that I was doing a Monday morning walk of shame. My bare legs and bare cunt felt like bare faced embarrassment at the bus stop especially when I had to stand in the crush and sway of the lower deck at rush hour because I’d have committed public indecency if I’d tried to walk up the stairs.

All I could tell myself was that it would have been more awkward to have stayed and exchanged small talk with him over the empty champagne bottle on the living floor. My justification to my flatmate that I hadn’t fucked him was how I attempted to save face…

Near Miss

Happy Halloween

As I’ve mentioned before I loathe dressing up in fancy dress but I adore dressing up for purely over the top slutty reasons to make either my Master or Princess horny (and I certainly enjoyed the attention this hobby created when I was younger too.)

So when I ended up spending Saturday night with Princess and twigged that it was the night most people would do their Halloween dress up, I figured I should take advantage of that opportunity. First I went for the heavy smoky smudgy eye make up that just cries out to be smeared into a pillow you are face down in while being fucked because anything less would be a waste.

And secondly I went for a Halloween appropriate body suit without a bra to really show off my pierced nipples and put it with fishnet stockings and thigh high boots so that when I answered the door to Princess she knew instantly I had fucking on my mind.

I let her take her coat and shoes off before I ordered her to strip off and lick my cunt as I lay on the sofa legs spread wide watching her absolutely bury her face in my clit until she made me come twice.

She was bratty enough to keep trying to make me come a third time but I made her lie on her back on the floor and put my tongue on her cunt while she squirmed and asked for more. I do love to lick her cunt as she’s so expressive when I do. She lifts her feet up in order to open her legs wider and push herself deeper into my mouth so that I can suck on her clit and flick my tongue over it at the same time.

It never fails to make her come and this was no exception with her ass lifting up off the carpet with her cunt right in my face as she gasped out her orgasm greedily. And because she’s such a greedy girl, I pushed her back down on the floor and put the Doxy on her clit before she’d even stopped coming the first time.

She was half way to begging for more and half way to asking me to stop as she was so overwhelmed even pulling away from the Doxy momentarily which is very unlike her usual wand slut self. I did laugh at how firm she was when she practically hissed ‘put it back’ urgently the second she realised what she’d done.

And I enjoyed the power of turning the wand up higher and higher and holding it right on her clit as she tried to sit up and play with my cunt while I destroyed hers with her second orgasm in close succession. Her clit just begs for those deep rumbling vibrations and explodes into incredible orgasms that delight me every time.

I particularly enjoyed lying on top of her still teasing her with the wand on low power between her legs feeling her whole body still experiencing her orgasm as I pressed my soaking cunt against hers to prove just how much I enjoyed giving orders dressed like this…

 

Happy Halloween

Start As You Mean To Go On

I had the kind of childhood you forget huge chunks of to get through. I don’t say this for sympathy but to explain why the oddest things stick in my mind from my formative years but others people might expect don’t.

Princess and I were talking recently about early sexual experiences and while she can remember exactly the first time she masturbated or had an orgasm, I couldn’t. Not that there’s any explicit trauma around those things for me but in blocking out the bad bits, you also shut out the good bits.

It got me thinking about the things that shaped my sexuality generally and because I have the most incredibly relaxed therapist I’ve been discussing it in sessions recently and seeing what was lurking in my brain after the time I’d forgotten I’d had my first three person relationship at the age of sixteen. And I got quite a shock with what I recalled.

Because depending what you consider your first sexual experience, mine was with a girl I went to primary school with. We didn’t fuck or even touch each other but it was the first time I ever got naked for pleasure with someone else which is a pretty notable sexual experience in itself.

We were friends at school because we were the dysfunctional ones in a school of privileged kids. My parents showed no real interest in me and her parents were divorcing at a time when such things were still incredibly rare in Ireland. And to add to our bonding, our issues were with our mothers in a society that exalts motherhood to the point of sainthood.

Her mother in fact had recently run off with a much younger man who rode a motorbike in full leathers and left her and her sister with their dad while she was clearly having some kind of mid life sexual awakening that fascinated us as we’d never really thought about parents being sexual until then.

We spent a lot of the summer between leaving primary school and starting secondary school at her house taking advantage of neither of her parents being around much but trying to make up for it by paying for MTV in the days when that had social cache. Occasionally we had to look after her younger sister and occasionally I had to skip her house to be looked after by my brother and he was the more useful of the two siblings.

Being as he was at the time a teenage boy, he and his friends spent a lot of time seeking out porn. In those days that came in the shape of magazines that had to be hidden more carefully from prying parental eyes than an internet search history does now. Unfortunately for them they weren’t smart enough to hide it from a curious little sister and I took them to my friend’s house where we thought it might enlighten us to what was making her mum act like she was.

We started out fascinated by it all, flicking through the pages seeing seemingly normal looking women get more and more scantily clad and turned on. Each page stripped off the bikinis or underwear we were used to seeing women posing in national newspapers or beer cans and we remained quite blasé until we discovered that these women’s cunts looked different to ours behind the scenes.

Both of us were at that stage of puberty where our bodies were changing but still not fully developed. I was slightly envious of her in the changing rooms because she was ready to wear a bra and I was still in camisoles but like most girls of that age getting changed for swimming or games meant not letting any part of your body below the neck be seen by anyone else for fear of social shaming.

So I’d never thought about hers or anyone else’s cunt and I’m not sure we’d ever been given the euphemistic advice to ‘get to know yourself’ with a hand mirror by then as we didn’t get the period talk until secondary school. We were goggle eyed when the pages got to the point of the women pulling their labia apart to reveal this whole new landscape behind the familiar vulva we knew we both had.

Like any kids learning about their bodies we found it hard to believe we could be like that too and I’m not sure if it was a practical decision or suggestion that we look at our own to compare with these blissed out looking women in Penthouse or Fiesta. I don’t remember if we undressed together or what stages it took but at some point we were both completely naked in her bedroom with the magazines between us.

There was definitely a childishness to this show and tell to begin with but as both of us lay against the bed with our legs apart, pulling our cunt lips open and staring at what we found on ourselves and each other, I remember the atmosphere changing. I’m not sure who turned the pages until we found the inspiration that we could slip our fingers inside these fascinating folds we found out we had.

I don’t know if she’d known you could do that before or had been doing it already but I definitely hadn’t and we both felt the effects of it as soon as we did going from casual exploration to pleasure seeking. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have explained this as masturbation if pushed to explain but we’d definitely changed the dynamic now.

I remember her lying back on the bed against her pillows with her knees open and her cunt looking different to mine but right there with her finger inside as she wriggled and moved. I remember also putting a finger inside myself but being up on my knees with the magazine in between us and definitely continuing to flick through it.

We didn’t articulate what we were doing as I doubt we had words for it but we took turns in those positions to pull ourselves open into the same poses as the women in the magazine as if copying them and pretending each other was the audience even though it wouldn’t have occurred to us that women could look at each other too.

I remember being a stickler for rules and orders even then and not deviating from the poses I saw in pages and pages of porn. But she was a rebel who used her other hand to pinch her nipples and rub her cunt as well keeping her fingers moving inside her. I don’t know if she’d acquainted herself with her clit before but she was certainly a faster learner than me with her body arching and squirming as both her hands moved at once while I watched until she went still.

I think I thought she’d gone still because she’d heard someone coming home but now I realise that she’d actually come in front of me. I know I didn’t because I was still sticking to the orders of the magazines to pose rather than perform like she had. I bet if she’d told me what to do I’d have got over my shyness instantly.

And then we did hear her grandparents coming home and luckily both were slow on the stairs giving us time to shove the magazines under the duvet and pull our clothes back on. I remember feeling so aware of my cunt when I put my shorts back on with the almost throbbing ache I now know is being incredibly turned on but not getting to come.

I also remember eating dinner with her and her grandparents and then being sent to play together afterwards but her barely looking at me or talking until I went home with my stash of magazines rescued from her bed. I do remember that one was missing when I checked though and I also remember that she and I never hung out again before going on to separate secondary schools a few weeks later.

I also remember being very keen to get that intense almost uncomfortable but can’t think about anything else feeling between my legs back again because it felt so good to me. I suspect that that was the summer I discovered masturbation. I wonder what else I’ll remember next…

Start As You Mean To Go On

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