Heat Me Up

I’ve had more conversations about boilers recently than anything else. Not only did mine decided to go on strike over the weekend but a friend might just have embarked on a illicit *thing* with the gas safety engineer who came to check hers the other week.

I did laugh as she sighed over a glass of wine that you can’t just fuck the boiler guy and thought to myself ‘I would’. It was only after she went home and I was clearing up the glasses that I remembered I had fucked the boiler guy once.

The only reason I didn’t text her to tell her that as encouragement is that while I didn’t mind her knowing my wicked ways but I did feel slightly embarrassed that my wicked ways are so debauched that I’ve got beyond forgetting the names of people I’ve fucked and into just forgetting whole people I’ve fucked. Being a slut is one thing. Being a slut with a terrible memory is a whole different game.

But when I was lying in bed that night I was pleased to note that I remembered the boiler guy extremely well when I thought back. He’d come to check gas safety certificate and do some maintenance work to allow the boiler to be signed off so was going to be there for a couple of hours.

Somehow the conversation went from flues and valves to tattoos. And it turns out this gas engineer was a tattoo obsessive with full sleeves and coordinating chest and back pieces of botanically accurate Japanese cherry blossom which I have to say I wasn’t expecting in deepest south London.

His face lit up in that way that happens when you give people permission to talk about the thing they love and that was the moment I realised the boiler guy was extremely good looking. I have always been an absolute slut for men who lose their self consciousness and just enjoy their interests even if they are silly or geeky or unfashionable.

And this guy loved Japanese sakura. I mentally skipped over the bit where he mentioned travelling to Japan to see the blossom in person on his honeymoon and listened to him describe how beautiful it was. I was trying to picture how that might look tattooed on his body when I realised he was asking me did I want to see the artwork?

I must have said yes but next thing I knew his shirt had come off and his tattoos were right there along with his nicely muscled torso. He turned and paraded for me so I could take in the detail of each black and white blossom and flower. And the only other thing I am a bigger slut for than lack of self consciousness is really really good tattoos on men.

And these were some of the most beautiful tattoos I have ever seen. Clearly designed as one whole piece and with an artist who wanted to use and enhance the shape of this guy’s body with light and shade, it literally flowed and cascaded down his back and arms and showed off both his skin and the sheer movement of his body with each little ripple or flex of a muscle or tendon.

It was incredibly hot. The kind of hotness where the room seems to grow thick with anticipation and time seems to slip and slide slowly but inevitably to the moment you start fucking. He lifted my hands onto his arms and let them move across this carpet of flowers and start sliding down onto the smooth but unmarked skin of his stomach.

I’m not sure if my hands moved themselves almost without control or he guided them but I was undoing his trousers and he was completely naked in my hallway, his body contrasted between the black and white of the top and the bare flesh of the bottom drawing my eye right to the middle and his hard cock.

He was still in the hall where anyone could see through my front door when I went down on my knees to suck his cock. I could feel his muscles tense and although I wasn’t able to see it from that angle I could just picture how good his back looked flexing like that. I loved that I was fully dressed and he was completely naked.

Something caused a noise outside and we both realised what we were doing and he stepped into my living room and closed the door to give slightly more privacy and possibility to fuck. I used the break to go and find some condoms in my bedroom and when I came back was greeted by another favourite sight that goes straight to my cunt.

He was standing cock in hand with that same lack of self consciousness as earlier and exactly how I imagine he makes himself come when he’s alone. I love that familiarity men have with their own bodies and it always makes me horny to watch. He just kept pulsing and clenching his hand on his cock so smoothly I hardly noticed he’d slipped the condom on while I’d got undressed.

He pulled me down on top of him on the carpet and we fucked. I had a fantastic view of his arms and chest and those tattoos almost til the last second when he pulled me down hard onto his torso and came into me. I remember grabbing his arms and pulling him against me until I came and then lying back for one last glance of that beautiful blossom.

I can’t remember how we disentangled ourselves but it wasn’t awkward. None of that ‘what the fuck just happened?’ wash of shame or regret. Almost that feeling of it just being how things are sometimes. I’m fairly sure in a stroke of pure Irish sluttery I made us tea while he got dressed again and went back to being a gas engineer without this ink superpower under his shirt.

After he left I thought many times about his tattoos and the effect body modification can have. In fact the impact lasted so long and so vividly in my mind’s eye that’s why I’d forgotten about the boiler connection til now. I think I could probably still draw his tattoos but I couldn’t tell you what his face looked like.

I’d only know it was him come to fix my boiler again in the future if he recognised me or happened to have stripped his shirt off before he got here. I won’t lie. The latter would have made a midnight boiler call out last night much more fun…

Heat Me Up


My cunt still isn’t quite back to full functioning so my horniness has had to be in my head recently which has given me lots of time to think of sexual scenarios I think I’d enjoy participating in.

I keep coming back to the idea of blindfolding Princess to rein in her brattiness so I can take control of her more. But the problem is that if she saw a blindfold coming she’d wriggle and try to brat her way out of behaving.

I’d have to surprise her with a hidden blindfold. The logical place to stash it is in what I’m wearing so it’s close to my cunt. Then when I put it round her face she can breathe in how wet the idea of this is making me.

What I can’t decide is if I want to tell her to kneel on the bed or the floor while I put the blindfold on her. If she’s on the floor, I can lead her to the bed trusting me in the process which gets me ridiculously wet when my Master does it to me. But if she’s on the bed already I can simply push her down and start teasing her.

Flat on her back I can pull her legs open to make sure she feels exposed and watched, unable to see what I’m doing. So she doesn’t know whether I’m about to bite her, lick her, pinch her or flog her. Or maybe all of them? The best bit for me is that I don’t need to decide just yet.

But once I’ve got her wet and squirming and probably likely to start begging, I’m definitely going to really tease her with her new Doxy. Not straight on her clit, nor even her cunt but buzzing it along her thighs and over her nipples until she’s gasping and then onto her still clothed but soaking cunt.

And just as she’s arching her back to push her cunt harder against the Doxy aching to let it make her come, I’m going to lift it away and place it on my cunt instead. So she can still hear the vibrations of the toy but doesn’t know where they’ve gone. I can just see her wanting to pull her blindfold off to find out but knowing that’s brattiness gone too far.

Instead I’ll tease her with the sound of the toy rumbling against my clit piercing and maybe even make a tiny bit of noise myself to show her how much I’m enjoying masturbating while watching her blindfolded on the bed with her legs wide open for me.

I’m just deciding whether to inch my body forward on the bed so that it means the Doxy presses against both our cunts or not when my Master comes into the room to surprise me as much as I did Princess with the blindfold.

I like the idea of him also blindfolding me and taking the Doxy out my hand so I can’t tell whether he’s using the new one on her and the old one on me at this point or pushing my body towards hers so that we have both Doxies vibrating at once against us as he holds me down and she keeps her legs open.

Maybe he’d be so enjoying seeing her helpless and open like that he’d pull her panties off and put her into the spreader bar to make sure she stays that way. Perfect for pushing my face into her cunt to lick it while he fucks me with my upper body pushing against the bar as it rattles and moves so Princess has to guess and picture and fantasise about what he’s doing to me.

I like to think he’d take pity on her and pull the blindfold off just in time to let her see him come into me. He’s generous that way…



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

Photo Finish

Those Friday nights that start early in the pub and end late in a blur and the grumbling start of a hangover are behind me. I prefer something quieter these days but quiet doesn’t mean boring in my world.

Not when your girlfriend texts you to tell you that she’s spending her Friday night shaving her cunt utterly smooth and sending me photographs of it getting wetter and ready to watch a video of me fucking an aubergine while playing with her wand.

Suddenly I’m not as interested to watch Coronation Street…

Photo Finish


No one mentions how boring being ill is. All that time on your hands and no ability to fill it with fun stuff. So I was pleased when Princess set me the challenge of finding her some clothes online (the only thing I like more than orgasms is online shopping.)

With idle thumbs and an idle mind what started as a genuine conversation about sleeve length quite quickly turned into me picking out clothes Princess would look even more fuckable in and mentally dressing her to promptly undress her again.

When I shared this style of shopping with her, she agreed she’d look excellent in a white trouser suit with nothing underneath except a lace bralet and a wet cunt. I couldn’t decide which appealed more, the flash of naked chest or the thought of sliding her trousers off to fuck her.

Either way I was delighted that my filthy mind is returning even if my libido is still missing in action and the only thing I’m doing in bed is sleeping. In fact it was returning enough that I started imagining how my Master would look in quite a few of the outfits too.

I have seen him in a suit before and he wears it well but I realised I’ve never seen him in drag close up only photographs and my mind was certainly very interested in what it would be like to have him showing his legs off while giving me orders in person.

I never did find Princess her suit because I had to go and have a little lie down to recover…


John Holmes

I think we all know I like that John Holmes toy a lot. It’s gone from being a monster I could barely manage any of to my standard dildo these days and it never fails to please me or my Master when I use it.

I was aware that it’s modelled on the real life cock of legendary porn star John Holmes thanks to the booklet that comes with it when you buy it. But I had no idea his life was quite as dramatic as it was until my best friend sent me a link to this essay about him from Rolling Stone magazine the other night.

Almost as long as his cock, it’s well worth a read especially if you like good journalism or true crime. I always thought the film Boogie Nights was based on his life, but they clearly toned it down a bit to get their Oscar nominations. I can see why.

But a little trip round Google lead me to discover that John Holmes did not exactly tone it down in his porn career. Many of the clips are available on PornHub and his cock really was as eye-poppingly huge in real life as in its silicone namesake.

It’s a pity he really does look like a pervy accountant to off set a cock like that, but I was amused and surprisingly aroused by some of the porn clips. We’ll skip over the fascination with fifteen year old girls in them but they look like real people fucking for fun which is sorely missing for me in a lot of modern porn.

I don’t like that slickness with mainstream porn where each sexual act is a tick box and the orgasm is literally a money shot to sell as many clips as possible. There’s something far too brisk and business-like about a lot of porn these days. Like watching people have one night stands where they try to score sexual points rather than enjoy many perverted pleasures human bodies can combine to offer.

I like my smut more realistic than styled and enjoyed the fact the John Holmes’ clips had that amateur reality instead of professional glossiness that somehow renders sex decidedly unsexy. I do see where the unfortunate trope of bad acting in the non porn bits comes from though!

I think I’m going to find it very interesting indeed the next time I play with my John Holmes toy after that little history lesson though…

John Holmes

Soft Butch

I think Princess is rubbing off on me. Teaching me about the joys of fucking women has not only made the last few months incredibly fun but it also seems to be making me more aware of women.

My Master wanted me to take Princess out on Saturday night to a lesbian bar and show her off but I couldn’t find anywhere that wasn’t a basement in Dalston where it was probably too dimly lit to show much off.

He does like the idea of us attracting some attention while out and about and he does have a good reputation when it comes to introducing me to women so I might learn to like attracting attention to me and Princess in public.

While I was plotting when and where we could do this, I had to get on with the day to day of life which being me involved trialling a new hairdresser and ending up with a style my best friend described as ‘so fucking gay.’ (Which is a compliment from a butch with good hair.)

And then also being me, there was a trip to the hospital for a test. I’m an old hand at these things so it was all very straightforward until they mentioned I needed to take my piercings out. I explained I’d have difficulty and the nurse went off to check leaving me with her colleague.

Who happened to be a very hot soft butch who definitely noticed my hair and didn’t read me as completely straight which is new for me. It didn’t help that because of the gloves she was using we were discussing latex within a few seconds of meeting.

But that was totally fine until the other nurse returned to double check the metal of my nipple piercings and I also had to confess to the clit piercing too. The cute butch didn’t say anything but as she had my arm in her hands at the time, I felt her try not to laugh too much.

She proceeded to carry on dealing with preparing my veins for an injection and the conversation was flirtier than I’d expect over saline and sticky tape. Not the first time a queer woman has flirted with me, but the first time they’ve also read me as queer and it felt fun but odd, like I was letting a haircut speak for me.

Yet it was also fun and lighthearted and then she had to use a longer cable or tube than expected and walk behind me carrying so it didn’t touch the floor and without thinking I said ‘I feel like a puppy being walked’ and as soon as I said it, there was that tension of realising you are both thinking kinky things and the tone has changed.

Not the moment to be in a backless hospital gown frankly…

Soft Butch