Not Very Saintly

I was honestly quite pleased not to have to leave the house on Saturday. St Patrick’s Day in England is not top of my list of things to participate in. Despite it being the day worldwide that any fucker who has ever drunk a pint of Guinness claims Irishness, it’s also the biggest day of the year for people to tell me I’m not really Irish because I’m from the North.

I mean legally you’d be right because I haven’t got round to sending my Irish passport application off post Brexit. I was waiting for  the rush of suddenly green Brits to subside first but honestly don’t tell Northern Irish people what nationality you think they are. It’s literally why we had that whole conflict thing in the first place and neither side takes it well.

Seeing some Twitter beef about ‘proper’ Irish-ness after the rugby on Saturday first made me shake my head and then laugh when it reminded me of one of the finest slutty moments of my twenties in the fair city of Cork (which FYI, is quite definitely Irish by anyone’s standards even if has an English Market.)

Readers may remember me fucking a hot man who partook in extreme sports for a living. Well about six months later I happened to bump into him again in Cork over St Patrick’s weekend (and by happened to, I mean I willingly got on a bus and drove for eight hours with a bunch of hyperactive fellas with too much adrenaline and not enough sense knowing he was going to be there.) I promise it was much less stalker-ish than it sounds.

Luckily because English people don’t have a particularly good sense of geography about Ireland he didn’t look that surprised I was there not knowing it was such a trek to get round such a small island in those days and assumed I’d had not much else to do that weekend. I didn’t bother to correct him in case it scared him off.

We ended up in a pub on St Patrick’s Night in that post parade pre piss up stage of the evening along with my also Northern Irish female friend who was also on a slut hunting mission of her own that weekend hoping to impress one of the boys we’d come down with.

The craic was good when suddenly one of the local girls who had acquainted herself with the out of town men at the event earlier spoke to me. I may have had no common sense when I was twenty but being a massive slut I could always spot the other girls who were equally keen on cock but not on admitting it. We rarely ended up friends shall we say?

And sure enough there was no love lost at this moment. She very carefully directed it at me and my friend that we weren’t really Irish so what the fuck did we think we were doing in an Irish pub pretending we were? Knowing that was likely to kick off actual warfare at the table, I went to change the subject but she wasn’t finished and informed me that no wonder I only wanted to fuck fake Englishmen in that case.

There was that kind of total ‘oh fuck’ silence at that point when the air goes out of a room. The guy I was with was black along as was his friend who was sitting with us and the inference was clear. I wasn’t exactly au fait with racism in a country as white as bread but this was so overt it was impossible to miss.

I stood up picking up someone else’s perfectly poured pint of Murphy’s as I did. The silence remained for the split second that every single person in the pub thought I was about to chuck the stout in her face. Instead I necked it in one long swallow I’ve never managed before or since, banged the glass down on the table and left the pub with both the men she’d insulted allowing the shouting to start behind us.

We walked up the street a bit and the friend bumped into some other people he knew and left us to it. He was quiet after the scene in the pub and I was frankly pissed in both senses of the word. We ended up sitting on the bed in my hostel room drinking the remains of the bottle of gin we’d started on the night before and talking.

It felt like one of those nights you’d set the world to rights instead of anything else and tipsy on gin I assumed we wouldn’t end up fucking. But when I went to get more tonic I came back to find he’d moved the twin beds round for just that purpose. I was supposed to be sharing the room with my friend and having been watched before neither of us wanted an audience this time.

We pushed the bed against the door so it couldn’t open and then he pushed me up the bed with my legs open and started licking my cunt. I had always been ambivalent about oral sex until this point finding it pleasant enough but ultimately pointless for orgasms. Not this time. This guy had both a knack and a love for giving head that I had never encountered before.

He licked me into a literal haze of orgasms with absolutely no interest in stopping and taking any attempt from me to collect myself and my clit to push me into another orgasm with his tongue and fingers. The bed banged at one point as someone tried to open the door and he didn’t stop. Nor did the noise that told us the St Patrick’s party had arrived back at the hostel.

I remember getting to the stage of so many orgasms that my legs actually started to go numb and he flipped me over so I was face first in a pile of pillows on my hands and knees as he fucked me to yet another orgasm for me and his first of the evening. I was so spent with orgasms I barely noticed the bed bang again as I collapsed forward ass in the air as he licked his own come out of me for the final orgasm of the last few hours.

I lay in a completely fucked senseless heap, out of breath and unable to sit up and marvelling that my ears were actually ringing from it all. That bus journey seemed like the best decision I’d ever made. And then two things occurred to me at the same time as him. Neither of us could sit up because we’d broken the bed. And the ringing was actually the fire alarm going off.

He rolled over and reminded me that we were staying in the same hostel as the guys who would go on to host the show Dirty Sanchez on MTV and they pulled stunts like this on the tour all the time and that if we wanted to make sure there wasn’t a fire, we were going to have move a broken bed.

We thought no more about it and went to sleep on the other bed instead. We woke up hungover and fucked in the still standing bed before trying to hide the evidence of the broken one. We gave up repairing it and wen to meet our friends in the pub instead.

Turns out that everyone else had had to evacuate the building the night before not because there was a fire but because the hostel had called the Gardai to turn the alarm off and stop the party getting properly out of control. Everyone who was anyone in Cork seemed to have been there and so our absence had been well and truly noticed.

He and I walked into the pub to a chorus of jeers and cheers designed to make a scene with my nemesis from the night before sat with a face like soured milk on her. However there was a noise behind us and the cheers stopped as soon as they’d started falling into shocked silence. Unbeknown to us the only other person unaccounted for during the fire alarm was the friend we’d left the pub with and he had just walked in behind us making everyone assume we’d actually been having a threesome.

Enjoying rendering another pub speechless with my sluttiness, none of us corrected them and my fuck buddy and I very much appreciated his friend loudly and obviously buying us breakfast to add to this impression. I’m sure my comments over the soda bread about real Irish hospitality didn’t compound that suspicion at all…

Not Very Saintly

Hot Wax

My Master and I have had many many kinky conversations but like they say, you always remember your first. And out first ever filthy chat focused quite heavily on the thought of hot wax.

We discussed it several times in the early days of our relationship (back when I was being a slow learner and hadn’t realised we were properly doing D/s) and I actually bought a big bag of soy wax in anticipation.

And then we got sidetracked with all the other ridiculously fun and filthy kink over the last three years and the bag of wax got forgotten about until a recent clear out brought it to mind again.

It is testament to how much I was determined not to miss hot wax with my Master this time that I actually sent him a specific date I had in mind for it and more or less gave him an order for the first time in our relationship.

Life has got in the way of my Master and I doing any full D/s for a few months and I’ve been missing it. Submission doesn’t just turn me on but sort of recharges my emotional batteries too so for me the scene started long before Sir got to my house.

Researching how best to melt the wax and what to apply it with, picking out what to wear or not wear on the night, incorporating Princess into what I was setting up and then laying out my living room so that it was as close to a dungeon as I can get it meant my excitement built all week.

By the time I was getting dressed for Sir with full slutty make up designed to smudge and smear over the scene for Princess, I had that excitement that you can feel in both your stomach and your cunt. I was the tiniest bit worried I’d built the anticipation up too much as I knelt blindfolded re-acquainting myself with John Holmes for the first time in months as I waited for them to arrive.

I think it was about thirty seconds in when I realised the evening was in fact going to exceed my wildest expectations. My Master started me off by sitting back in my armchair glass of whisky in his hand letting me find his cock with my mouth.

Not only did his cock taste particularly good but he pulled me deeper down on it than I can usually manage by raking his hands through my hair and up and down my back and shoulders which made melt down onto his cock like I couldn’t get enough. Just as I was so blissed I could barely move my mouth round him, he swapped places with Princess and I buried myself in her lap too.

Sir ordered us both onto the floor on our knees and took turns fucking us. He filled me up with his cock and left me wanting more as he pulled Princess on top of him with her ass in the air and told me to use her as my toy. It was time to get the temperature play part of the evening going.

Alongside my hot wax I’d laid out an ice bucket and buried my favourite curved glass butt plug inside it. I left Princess’s ass hot and stinging after a few hard slaps and then pressed the ice cold toy against her. She took the toy in one go and sat down so hard on Sir’s cock I was envious of how filled up she was.

They didn’t leave me for long though, working together as Princess put me in the spreader bar as Sir tied my hands and arms so I was flat on my back, legs spread wide and unable to stop either of them from doing anything to me. I was completely naked, totally immobile and very vulnerable.

It was exactly the moment I wasn’t sure if I could take the pain I thought would be coming and I almost wanted to safe word before we’d even begun. This amount of anticipation after a whole week of waiting was unbearable. I was so wrapped up in in that moment I almost didn’t notice the first drip of wax for a second until a sting of beeswax brought me out of my thoughts and right into the scene.

I didn’t have more than a split second to breathe in before a warm wave of hot wax washed over me. Smoother softer cooler soy wax felt like pure pleasure on my skin. I could feel myself slide into subspace where my body and mind feel incredibly sensitive and attuned yet in soft focus.

Sir flicked and dripped the wax over my tits, warming my nipple piercings with residual heat which gave me much more sensation than I ever get there especially as Princess was flicking her tongue over my clit at the same time. I was just basking on ripples of warmth and orgasms as the sensations built with layers of hardening wax.

It was the first time my Master and Princess have worked together on a kink scene where I am doing active submission rather than just being submissive as I fuck and it felt like being passed from hand to hand if they weren’t letting my feet touch the ground like floating completely securely.

The wax kept coming running and dripping down my torso and arms, flicking onto my legs and tightening as it dried. I knew my Master and Princess were taking turns with it concentrating in places while alternating with bright hot splashes of the beeswax anytime I looked like I was starting to zone too far out.

Usually when I submit to Sir I am very quiet, almost non verbal but this scene pushed me out of that habit because I knew that to keep this pleasure coming I needed to give feedback as it was so unlike anything we’ve played with before. I’ve always thought that talking during a scene would take me out of it but in fact I discovered it enhanced everything.

Although maybe my Master also likes me silent because he gave Princess the order to use the Doxy on me at this point. The way she pulsed it and pressed it against my cunt made me lose my voice into the pull of five orgasms one after like a complete slut as the wax ran across my bare cunt feeling exactly like the warmth of squirting.

I was utterly spent. And my Master and Princess were just ready to get started on each other. I lay back watching as Sir slid his cock into Princess’s stretched welcoming ass and fucked her so hard they both collapsed into me as he came into her.

It was the perfect way to crack the wax they’d worked so hard to build up so that when they untied me and pulled me up off the floor there was a perfect line of wax around my body to prove how we’d spent two kinky hours that were more than worth the wait….

wax lines

Hot Wax

Drag Hag

I was talking to Princess the other day about RuPaul’s Drag Race. Bizarrely for someone who loves make up and used to work in a drag bar back in the early days of living in London, I’ve only ever seen one episode of it (actually with Sir and Princess.)

She and I were discussing how many millions of people must have discovered their sexuality (or become allies or more aware of LGBTQ+ culture) because of RuPaul and Drag Race. We were both trying to work out who are first drag queen was and despite our age gap both of us thought RuPaul had probably been our introduction to drag culture.

I definitely remember having a card advertising the original Viva Glam lipstick back in 1994. The fifteen year old me was bewitched by the unisex glamour of MAC Cosmetics which were unobtainable in Ireland in those days and I was dazzled by RuPaul in a frock and k.d lang in a suit both gender bending for a good cause.

I stuck that card to my wall above the desk I studied for my GCSEs at and stared at it as some kind of portal to a world where anyone could wear make up and be who they wanted. And like many people before and since I found that world in the local gay bars.

My hometown only had one gay bar that advertised itself as such while one other pub had an upstairs room frequented by what we’d now call bears and tended to be too old for my friends and I to go. I got to know the gay friendly haunts well as I had several barely out gay friends and was a safe person to accompany them as they met men for fun for the first time.

It never occurred to me that some of those men were bisexual until one Monday night a female friend and I tripped along to the gay bar for Miss Penelope Pitstop’s Big Balls Bingo with our town’s possibly only drag queen mixing local banter and high camp to a mixed audience.

Since she was a minister’s daughter she got a fit of guilt about being there and left abruptly (although her parents were very welcoming when she came out as bisexual herself soon after even if she had a tendency to act like the only gay in the village after she did.)

I figured I could finish my drink safely in a bar full of men with eyes for each other and was slightly surprised when suddenly I was hugged hard and joined at my table by a guy I knew from my clubbing days. We’d always enjoyed drug fuelled conversations after big nights out crashed out on aged sofas in student houses talking earnestly while off our faces but had never really spoken sober.

I didn’t really think much of seeing him there until we were well into the bingo and drinks and he mentioned he knew Miss Penelope herself. In a stroke of almost embarrassing naivety I enquired how and he paused and batted his eyelashes at me and casually said he liked to suck her cock while she was in full make up.

I know my mouth made a perfect O in response to that. Not because as he thought for a second because I was shocked or horrified but because I was instantly turned on by the thought of it and fuelled by gin and confidences told him so. He grinned and signalled for more drinks. I knew that night wasn’t going to go home as early as my friend had.

We played several rounds of bingo, failing to make a house at any point since our attention had shifted to making eyes at each other. Having only ever discussed politics and putting the world to rights with this guy I was delighted to discover he was funny and incredibly fucking filthy.

I had no qualms when the bingo ended and he bought me a drink, kissed me on the lips and told me to entertain myself before disappearing for about fifteen minutes. I was amusing fag hag fodder to the other men in the bar who thought a wide eyed girl in a bar with a dabber had no idea what was going on.

My date reappeared and rescued me, sliding onto the seat beside me and his tongue into my mouth as he kissed me still tasting of cock and come. His hand definitely crept up my skirt and we looked very straight in a public place. That was our cue to leave together.

We fell into a cab kissing hard enough that the cab driver had to remind us we’d arrived twice. There was no pausing for drinks or polite chit chat in that way people do when they pretend they haven’t gone home together to fuck. We went straight to the bedroom.

I noticed two things that surprised me. For a man of barely twenty who appeared to live separately to his parents his room was immaculate with a properly made bed and even more unusually he was holding the first sex toy I’d ever seen.

He pushed me down on my knees and started pulling my tights down and skirt up so my panties were just low enough to sneak a peek at my cunt and for him to wedge the dildo he was holding into them so it stuck out like a cock that I had to hold tightly in place by pressing my thighs together.

I could feel my cunt soaking wet around it and making it tricky to keep in place with how slick my knickers felt. But when he knelt down, pulling his long hair off his face and started sucking the dildo like he clearly had been with Miss Penelope’s cock before we left together. I looked down watching his head bob and up and down on the dildo taking it deeper than I knew was possible.

I was so turned on and wet watching his floorshow I almost didn’t notice his final flourish as he deep throated the dildo pulling it out of my panties with his lips before putting his mouth back on my cunt and licking me with equal enjoyment and vigour.

My cunt responded in delight as I discovered my first bisexual man that night. We fucked hard that night so that my first time using a sex toy was with his mouth and ass. I did enjoy his legs eleven for me, cock in hand and getting his jackpot that way.

Maybe not the most common introduction to drag culture I’ll agree but one I’ve remembered for years since…

 

Drag Hag

Trade

I’m in the middle of trying to get a bit of work done to my flat. It’s one of those very practical things that feels very adult indeed. I’ve been comparing quotations and checking people’s insurance and credentials. And laughing at how much I’ve grown up in the last few years because the last time I hired anyone to work on my flat, the fact he was incredibly fuckable was just as much a concern as how well he could lay my floor.

But don’t worry, even my formerly slutty self didn’t let him lay me as well. I just spent two long days flirting outrageously with him and respecting the fact that temptation wasn’t going to make him cheat on his clearly adored girlfriend. In a world where so many men will fuck you if they think they can get away with it, his honesty and conscience even when his cock was whispering in his ear made him even hotter.

That wasn’t where I learned to flirt with workmen. I think I developed that skill in my teens when I started working in service industry jobs and learned that male manual workers are often the only men who understand the use of emotional labour and platonic flirting as social interaction.

There’s probably some class dynamics in there about being the ‘hired help’ around middle class women who are paying their bill, but either way I have always loved flirting with workmen. Partly I can’t help playing up that stereotype that girly girls like me know nothing about practical things like paint or shelving because it often allows me to flirt my way to discounts or use the element of surprise that I actually know much more than I’m letting on if needed.

But mainly a lot of manual workers are hot. There’s something about the physique of a man’s body that comes from the simple act of using for hard physical work in the course of a day that always appeals to me in a way a gym honed body has never done. I love that hint of muscle and promise of strength in a body that moves and builds things for a living.

And watching people do something they are skilled at is one of my greatest turn ons. It doesn’t particularly matter what the skill is but seeing someone do something they are so confident and skilled at that they make it look easy gives me that pinch in my stomach of attraction as well as stirring in my cunt. Doesn’t matter if it’s cooking a meal, re-roofing a house or tiling a floor really. The attraction is in the expertise.

So when a friend asked me if I would stay at their flat for a couple of days while they were having some work done to the windows I agreed readily. Rather than them take time off work to let the guy in and out all day, I was happy to supervise and hope I hadn’t set myself up to stare at builder’s bum and make tea all day for a man with dubious political views which is the flip side to spending time round men who work with their hands.

But the slutty gods were smiling on me because he was young, handsome and Hungarian. I’m usually not a fan of Aryan looking men but his wholesome ashy blonde hair and blue eyes were complimented by an underlying air of filth that made me much more interested in making him tea and discussing Central European politics than I’d usually be.

He really did work on those windows the first day although there was much more flirtation on the second day. But by the third when the work had moved indoors, things stepped up a notch. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him leaning over the sills with his ass right in my line of view all morning.

This time he took his lunch break and as we moved round the fairly small kitchen he brushed against me a few times that way that could be accidental if the response wasn’t favourable. I brushed back as he insisted on helping me wash up the mugs and plates used before he went back to work.

I spent the afternoon very aware of that sensation of where he’d grazed against my ass with his crotch feeling the tingle linger in my cunt and distract me. He’d stayed out of my sight line since then and I wondered if he was feeling awkward. I decided bringing him a beer when he finished work was the way to go.

He thanked me and finished clearing up. I slunk back into the kitchen feeling foolish and horny for mistaking porn for real life and started putting the washing up away. Clattering plates I didn’t hear him come up behind me until he set the beer bottle on the counter and slid his hands round my hips pressing me against him.

I went soft against how hard he was and he brushed his hands increasingly firmly across my tits and hips before pulling the zip of my jeans down, letting his fingers explore my clit and then inside my cunt as I leaned back into him. He had strong hands to hold me but with fingers used to small skilful movements and he made me squirm as I came.

Only then did we end up facing each other and we kissed before it was my turn to run my hands over him, slipping the straps of his painters overalls down to reveal that he wasn’t wearing any underwear and his cock was right there for me to play with.

I pulled the overalls right down and slipped his cock into my mouth. I was right that he was the right kind of filthy. He was shaved smooth and scented with just enough hard work and sweat to make me really want to suck on his balls too. I alternated between cock and balls with my mouth until he pushed his dick further into my mouth.

I balanced myself by cupping my hand under his balls as I sucked his cock and he reached down and cupped my fingers further back pressing against his asshole. I paused and he widened his stance so I knew he wanted my finger inside him. I put my fingers on top his cock and drew them down it as I sucked them slick and then slipped one into his ass.

He stiffened against and then opened up so my finger was able to slide in and out in time to my mouth on his cock, literally sucking and fucking him at the same time staring up at his face from my knees. His eyes were closed and he was only moving in synch with my actions almost like he was in trance.

Suddenly he startled forward grabbing my shoulders so my finger pressed inside his ass and he came so hard into my mouth I couldn’t swallow it all running down my chin and making his cock slip out of my mouth as he was still coming. It was dripping off his cock and my face and onto the floor as he was still gripping my shoulders.

He let go and I stood up to kiss him still covered in his come. I pulled my jeans up and he stepped back, pulling his overalls off completely so he was naked from the waist down and taking a cloth he got down on his hands and knees, back to me with his just fucked arsehole visible and slowly and deliberately mopped up his own come as I watched.

Still on the floor, he tossed the cloth in the sink and pulled my jeans back down and buried his tongue in my cunt with his cock in his hand. We both came again and only just had time to get dressed and composed again before my friend arrived home with more beers to thank us both with.

I have no idea what we sat and  talked about because both my mind and cunt were still completely distracted. I’m not sure I’ll ever look at a pair of painters overalls again the same way….

Trade

Trio

Most people find Monday nights a minor annoyance. But my Master is not most people. He texted me on Sunday morning and told me he had plans for going to the cinema on Monday night with me and Princess and picturing his come dripping out of me while I was trying to watch the film.

I’m usually more a double bill of Coronation Street on a Monday night kind of girl but I could turn into a film buff with an invitation like that. Not only did I make sure I was free, I made sure I was dressed up and ready for his orders long before the matinee starts.

And he was definitely feeling creative. I spent my afternoon in a meeting and when I finally finished there was a selection of texts detailing exactly how the evening was going to start. I was to meet Princess at their house and make sure I was tied to the bed with her face between my legs by the time he got home but I wasn’t to come at all until he was there and her fist was inside me.

Princess loves to see how much of a brat she can make me be so she didn’t trust me to use the under mattress bed restraints that she always tries to pull her hands out of so she used the spreader bar to put my hands above my head so I had to twist and wriggle to obey my orders not to come as she licked my clit.

Luckily for me my Master was home early and I was counting us on him not being the kind to make us sneak into the cinema while the ads are already playing. I expected him to come straight in and give us both orders that take charge since we had a deadline to aim for.

Instead I heard him going into the kitchen and open and close the fridge and walk around all while I was squirming and biting my lip under Princess’s expert tongue determined not to disobey my orders. I was quite surprised when his first order to me when he walked into the bedroom was to open my eyes.

I thought it was to disorient me and make me work harder to hold my orgasm back so was surprised when it was actually so he could pour prosecco into my mouth from a glass he was holding. Unable to lift my upper body with the spreader bar and my lower body with Princess holding my legs open and pressing down on my clit the prosecco poured down my chin and across my tits instead.

Princess was happy to be ordered onto her knees to lick the chilled bubbles from my tits before going back for once again to tempt me into behaving badly under her tongue. Sir had other ideas, taking her hand as she licked and guiding two, then three, then four of her fingers into my cunt for her.

She didn’t need much encouragement to take over sliding her thumb in and teasing my cunt wide open with her hand. It’s been a while since I was fisted and it took my cunt a moment or two to remember its muscle memory. There was a brief second where I thought I couldn’t take any more than five duck billed fingers fucking me and then my cunt just relaxed and opened.

I couldn’t tell if Princess still had five fingers or her whole fist inside me until I heard my Master say ‘ clench your fist’ and I realised her whole hand right up to the wrist had just glided in as easily as me as taking a breath in. It felt so good having her hand buried deep in cunt that I couldn’t believe I’d ever doubted taking it.

I just had time to think that and then I was coming so hard it felt like moment water rushes over your head and blocks all the noises out leaving you completely aware of your body yet floating at the same time. All those denied orgasms exploded into one that practically lifted me off the bed.

No wonder my Master couldn’t wait to slide his cock inside me as soon Princess took her hand out. Coming around a substantial object always makes my cunt even looser and more stretched and ready for being fucked and I know Sir loves the way it feels around him. His cock feels even harder the more I gape open and the contrast made me come again almost immediately.

Watching me take his cock that deep and hard made Princess greedy for him too and still reeling from the orgasms, I was happy to lie back and watch his cock slamming so hard into her cunt that she kept losing her balance and falling face first into my tits making my nipples harden and her beg Sir to pick her up and fuck her until she came even harder than I had with her fist.

I love that sound of Sir’s body and balls slapping hard against her as they fuck. They fit so well together and know each other so well and lying there with the Doxy pressed against me, seeing Princess get ready to come again made Sir do something he rarely does when the three of us fuck.

Rather than choreographing all three of us so Princess and I come to his orders no matter what combination of fucking is going on, my Master allowed himself to concentrate completely on his own orgasm inside Princess focusing completely on them together.

It was ridiculously hot lying under them so her cunt was directly above my face, watching him lose control and let go into her cunt with an orgasm that made the bed shake knowing that if she came again his come would drip out of her. All I had to do was press the Doxy on my clit and wonder if Sir’s come would end up on my face or follow the prosecco over my tits.

Ending up with come dripping down both my face and my nipples seemed like an excellent compromise. But by the time I was presentable again, the Orient Express had left the station. Maybe next time we’ll go to the late showing and Sir can cover my cunt with come as well as my face…

Trio

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

Come Together

I’ve never been one for associating music with sex. I’ve never really understood that whole ‘our song’ thing and back in my teens and twenties when music was much more a part of my day to day, my tastes didn’t really suit sex unless you could move like your life depended on it. I was also put off by the occasions men would pick a soundtrack to fuck to, never sure if it was worse to hear ‘Let’s Get It On’ for the millionth time or the utterly jaw-dropping choice of Sham 69’s ‘Evil Way’ once*.

But the other night my Spotify Discover Weekly came up with The Beatles ‘Come Together’ and it definitely made me think of my Master and Princess. How could I not with the lines “He say. One and one and one is three. Got to be good looking ’cause he so hard to see. Come together right now over me”?

It’s not often songs reference three people without one of them being a home wrecker so that certainly tickled me as much as the title summons up filthy images. One of the best things I’m finding about a  long term sexual relationship is that sense of knowing someone so well you can adapt to them and have those simultaneous orgasms that most people think only exist in films.

Both my last threesomes with my Master and Princess ended with us all coming at the same time first with her watching my Master fuck me stupid and then with me watching her take three cocks at once and him coming in her mouth as I made myself come with the Doxy.

Princess is by no means the cock slut I am so when she took a huge extender that Sir had bought to fuck me more open with and started fucking herself with it while his cock was buried in me both Sir and I were very pleasantly surprised.

I’d started her off with the pink toy in her cunt and she clearly wanted more, filling herself up with the extender and taking advantage of its open side to slide a second cock inside it to push two fingers inside to get her going while she watched Sir fuck me for the second time that day.

My cunt was so well fucked after his cock twice and the Doxy once that unusually I wasn’t quite as greedy for cock as normal and unable to take my Master as deep as is my habit. Princess however wasn’t filled up enough with the extender and put the pink toy inside it to help fuck herself harder as she rode both on her knees and begged for the Doxy on her clit too.

Sir is always scrupulously fair with us both and always makes sure we both get fucked equally so if he hadn’t taken himself out of my cunt and into Princess’s mouth then and there, I would have felt greedy keeping him all to myself considering how desperate for dick she was.

Lying on her back with the double toy in her cunt and Sir’s cock deep in her mouth, she’s rarely looked sluttier and I can’t remember if Sir told me or I couldn’t help myself and I lifted the Doxy onto her clit while she swallowed him and fucked herself in tandem. I knew exactly when to turn the wand up so she would come and open her mouth even wider and wetter for Sir to come into.

Watching both of them change pace, catch their breath, tense their muscles, make noise and deepen in concentration was so fucking hot to see. There’s no boredom in knowing the pitch and sway of their orgasms so well, no sense of ‘seen it all before’ but more the flow of a well rehearsed performance piece coming (literally) together.

It meant I knew exactly when to press the Doxy full power on Princess’s achingly greedy cunt and lean against them both so that the vibrations of the toy and the way she lifts her hips when she comes would go straight to my cunt and make me come at the same time they both did. Pitch perfect timing even with the element of  surprise of Princess being so cock hungry for once.

The only thing that would have been hotter than that synchronicity is if Sir had actually “come together right now over me” and come over Princess’s face or tits instead so I could see it even more clearly than in her mouth. We might need an encore next time….

 

*Spoiler alert: someone actually played me this song while we fucked and my orgasm curled up, died and moved to Australia. Just seeing the lyrics is bad enough but it’s sung in a mock Cockney accent that could wilt a dildo.

Come Together