My dildo nearly killed him.

Stability, like a rock, can sometimes squash creativity.  It happens to all couples.  After the first 6 months routines are instituted, all the right buttons pushed, switches flipped.  Where’s the passion?? we wonder.  Well, I can tell you.  It’s beneath the everyday maintenance and all the layers of intimacy.  That sexy new man is right in front of you, but you have to see his otherness first.

This is a nice place to be.  The Neighbor, always a goddamned enigma to me, has become tenfold more attractive.  I like his mysterious, unfathomable ways these days.  It turns me on. 

I focus on the fact that I simply cannot know everything about him and while I know enough to say I love him and want to stay, I am allowing his strange newness to step forward and surprise me more.  Yes, I know “he’s mine,” but life gives no tidy contracts.  I gotta work for this fool; think about the next big thing we’re gonna do.  The familiar embrace of possible rejection keeps me alert and focused on keeping us both interested in each other.

And so this weekend I planned on tying him up again, something which I haven’t done in far too long.

I heard him come in first, quietly, before I saw his head pop up from my spot on the couch.  “Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yep,” I answered, slightly confused.  He disappeared for a moment and then walked out from behind the room divider buck naked with a nice, heavy chubby cock.

“Good.  I didn’t want to scar Peyton just in case something had changed and you were on kid duty.”  He walked towards my smiling, appreciative face.

“Nope.  All alone,” I answered and grabbed his cock.

He was clipped and clean and I smelled soap.  I wrapped my hand around the base and sat up just enough to take the tip in my mouth.  I looked up and saw him watching me.  “Put your arms above your head,” I said succinctly.

He giggled, but complied and I turned my attention back to his hot meat.  Every so often he would moan and I would look up.  The points of his elbows high in the air brewed something deep down in my center, the soft tufts of hair in the arm sockets, the trail of hair leading to my face.  I lapped and sucked and he said how much he loved my mouth.  When he tried to lower his arms I commanded he put them back up immediately.  He smiled broadly and did as he was told.

When his breathing was labored I stood up and led him into my room. The bed was made and cat on the windowsill.  A clean palette for the mess I was hoping to make.

He asked me to keep sucking from my knees.  “It’s so hot,” he explained.  I encourage him to be vocal about his wants and so I dropped immediately, used my knees to spread his feet a little to bring him lower; up went his arms again.  His passion grew and he lost some control; he wanted to stick it in.

“Not yet,” I said.  “Lay on your back on the bed.”

I went around and got my Box o’ Toys.  “What are you doing?” he asked a little nervously.

“You’ll see,” I replied as I pulled out two silk scarves and quickly tied his ankles to the foot of the bed.  Then I reached in and grabbed my dildo, a massive, beautiful beast of silicone and jelly.

TN's Christmas gift to me
This shit ain’t no joke.

His eyes widened.  “What re you going to do with that?”

“None of your business,” I answered curtly.  “Now keep stroking your cock.  I’ll be right back.”  I left to rinse off the beast and smiled because I knew his strange man-mind was thinking I actually planned to put this up his tight, sweet ass.  I’m not so naive as to think it would even be physically possible — I had other ideas — but I quickened at the thought that he truly didn’t know.

When I came back in I knelt beside him, nude, but for my knee socks, and wagged the thing above him.  “Open your mouth,” I said firmly.  He looked at me and squirmed.  “Do it,” I added.

Struggle played across his face and I delighted in it.  I dragged his left hand between my legs and let him feel my wetness.  He pushed in two fingers as I pushed the dildo past his lips and he took a little taste.  His brow was furrowed with embarrassment and I placed his other hand on my hanging breast as I leaned over and controlled the depth of the cock in his mouth.

He popped it out and asked me what I’d put on it.  Confused I said, “Nothing, just water, why?”

“My mouth is burning a little,” he explained.

“Nope, just water,” I reassured him.  “But do you want to stop?”  He answered by taking it back in his mouth.  I gasped a little and watched, transfixed.

He was an image of sex: ankles secured so he couldn’t move, his hands full of pussy and breast and his mouth stuffed with this big, fake cock.

I let him take the cock from me so I could stroke his real one as I whispered fucking unbelievably hot he was, then I’d had enough.

I climbed up on him and wiggled down, my eyes latched to his face as I watched his performance anxiety melt away and his energies focus on me, not himself.  He was doing all of this for me.  All of it.

This knowledge kicked my hips into motion and I rode him hard as he did a better job of deep-throating that thing than I ever could.  I came in little bursts and squirted like a fountain as  my breasts pulled at my chest as they bounced all round.  Sweat prickled to the surface all over my body and I felt like a live wire.

Exhausted and panting I climbed back off, untied him, and grabbed my Hitachi from up high in my closet.  He looked at me knowingly and I lay down beside him, turned on the wand, and watched him suck my fake cock.  I imagined a real man above him fucking his face and I came loud and hard then went limp.

He set the cock between us with a quizzical look on his face.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, concerned.

“My throat is burning and feels tight,” he said.

“Oh shit!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s like that feeling when I take Benadryl or Tylenol PM.”  Shit, fuck, damn!, I thought.  He’s deathly allergic to those things!

It’s funny how quickly one can accommodate life’s demands.  Think of all the times a rutting couple has been interrupted by a small child’s cries.  I sat up and asked, “Can you breathe ok?”

“Yeah, for now.”  He stood up and I could see he was checking his own vitals, his hand on his chest.  “It’s really burning,” he added.  “But I feel ok enough.”  He took a big drink of water.

“No, we’re just going to pause here,” his “I feel ok enough,” an implicit go-ahead to keep doing what we were doing.  “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to dress an unconscious, 200lb man for EMS?  We’re going to just chill here for a bit before we do anything else.”

He laid down next to me and I stroked his chest.  “Maybe you’re allergic to the dildo,” I offered.

“What’s in that thing?” he asked.

“I dunno, I suspect silicone?  Are you allergic to that?”

“I highly doubt it.  Wouldn’t I know by now?”

“Probably.”

“Your plan for murder didn’t work today.”

“Damn, you figured me out.  I can see it now: ‘DEATH BY DILDO.'”  We giggled and chortled at that.

“What would you tell the paramedics?”

“The truth!  I’d tell them and the ER docs that I’m a kinky fuck and that you adore me and would do anything for me so you sucked a big fake cock that tried to kill you.  I’d want them to have all the facts.  I’m not embarrassed.”  We laughed and he hugged me.

“Are you feeling better, yet?” I asked, genuinely concerned.  He took another drink of water.

“I think so.”

We rested some more before getting up and going about our day.  I checked in on him later and he said he’d done some research and discovered that silicone allergies are incredibly rare, but that there could be some kind of manufactured jelly he may be allergic to.  “I’m just gonna have to suck that thing with a condom on next time,” he concluded.

“I’d never make you do that.”

“I know, but I’d do it anyway.”  I could feel his smile through the phone and I felt lucky that there are still so many things about this young man that surprise me, namely that he’ll do anything for me, including not be afraid of giant, beastly killer dildos.

 

 

 

He gets a [very lovely] punishment.

It’s been a few months now since The Neighbor and I entered into another layer of D/s and I became in control of his masturbation practices.

Our original foray into D/s was borne out of intense curiosity to see if it would fit us; he’d been spanking me for nearly a year and controlling our interactions, but I was miserable and he was a slippery little thing, perhaps miserable, too. That was definitely not working for us.

When I finally heard him, actually listened to his words about being submissive in the past — deliberately and with a real Domme — and how much he loved to vacuum for me bound in my skimpy lace panties, I opened a cupboard door into a part of me to which I hadn’t given any merit. And then it liberated us.

We dipped our toes into the power pool and suddenly we were both more relaxed, tall and serene. He still wasn’t committing to me or saying he loved me, but there was something else there, a stronger, newer connection that bound us even tighter. Roots were growing.

There have been mostly ups since we started this new side of us and I have learned mountains of information about the both of us: like how I am not a sadist, but I like welts, how I like having control over his pain because I can make it stop, how my position better allows me to express my needs from strength and not fear; and how he needs to feel trust and kind words during moments of consensual weakness, how he wants me to stand up for myself and keep him in line.

We fuck an average of a dozen times a month and 2-3 of those are me in total charge. Spankings, nipple clamps, him falling the fuck apart. The rest are laced with my domination and I top from the bottom with a big fat fucking smile on my face. And mostly all of our clothed sexual interactions are via D/s.

The innuendos, the spanks, the demands, the rules. So that means I also have had to come up with punishments. A real punishment, not something he would outrightly enjoy, though, that is how I prefer to deliver my blows.

He confessed to me the other day that he had masturbated without my permission. I thanked him for telling me, because I knew he was afraid, and we talked about why and I shelved it for later.

The next morning, I came up with a plan:

Ok, I’ve thought some more about you jerking off. I’m upset bc you didn’t send me a pic like I always say to do (& you broke your promise, but that can’t be helped now). So, to start over fresh, this is your punishment: you’re allowed to jerk off 3x bn now and next Tuesday but you must 1st ask my permission, 2nd, if it’s late and I don’t respond, then you must make a video of it, and 3rd, regardless of 1 or 2, you must take pics. So this means I expect 3 pics at least, if not some videos, of your gorgeous cock. You can also jerk off in front of me, too, thereby eliminating the need for pics :)

He said it was “tough, but fair.”

I said, “Good boy,” relieved to hear it, but knowing there was really nothing else he could say.

Thursday night, sick as a dog, I convinced him to jerkoff next to me. It was, quite literally, the highlight of my miserable day to watch his body tense and vibrate then jerk into his blurry hand, milky white jizz quickly mopped up by a tissue I had ready. I had three boxes of them littered about me, after all.

And this morning, this happened:

hyacinthjones_text_tits
The tits were for encouragement.

I’m not certain if he actually jerked off right then or of he was asking for his lunch break, but either way, I’m looking forward to the pics and I feel strong in my position yet again.

I never would have guessed how hot him asking me for permission could be — never — but goddamn. This punishment stuff sure does feel good. Almost as good as everything else with him does.

He may only cum when I am present.

ass_up_nude_hyacinth_jones
Since I won’t share pics of his pretty naked body, you get mine.

I had been feeling out of control and my libido had dropped a few rungs when I received a provocative and thoughtful email from a friend who happens to be dominant. He reminded me that if I wanted something, I had the power to make it happen, the responsibility to be kind, and the wherewithal to know the difference between recklessness and pushing boundaries.

I mulled it over for days.

A part of my real life had been spiraling out of control and I had to flex that muscle I’d built up while masturbating myself into true acceptance of all things The Neighbor. In other words, I had to just let go.

It’s worked, thank God, but it took a lot out of me and I could focus on nothing but that problem for most of my waking days.

It robbed me of my will to write like I wanted to and it’s the culprit behind the lowered libido, too, but somehow, insanely, my friend’s words continued to percolate and in the midst of my chaos I turned to TN one night as we cuddled and said, “I don’t want you to masturbate without me anymore. No touching, no cumming, nothing, unless I’m somehow present. You can have me involved or just in the room, but whatever it is, I’m there.”

I probably said it a lot more kindly than that because I am a very soft-hearted woman and a clumsy Domme. I probably also gave some reasons behind it — thinking I had to — but with a slow smile and a squeeze TN said simply, “Ok. I think I can do that.”

That was 3 weeks ago and he has kept his word like a good boy.

My bond to him has deepened and my trust in him has blossomed. I am also in utter disbelief.

There has been a time or two when he has admitted to waking up humping his pillows, a pained look on his face, and I just laughed and rubbed and loved on him like a giant puppy. A great, big, wonderful, love and sex puppy.

His hard-ons are epic and easy as usual, but there’s an air to our interactions that is different. I’m holding invisible reins and he’s wearing an equally invisible bridle. His reliance on masturbation to self-soothe and regulate his emotions throughout any given day is heavy and I take it seriously to be in control of his outlet.

I grip and stroke, and find my face buried between his tree-trunk legs far more often than I have in previous months, and I’ve found that magical prescription that milks the cum from his body despite his control tenfold more times than before my new Rule. And even my pussy has coaxed him to orgasm.

Whatever connection we had is growing stronger as he learns to rely on me and I learn to trust myself. It vibrates, it soothes, it’s sweet and sexy, it’s everything to me.

When I ask him if he wants to cuddle now, instead of saying, “Maybe,” I get, “Of course.” It’s been months since he’s missed a night anyway, but nowadays, he gets upset if I try to carve out some space alone. I hesitate to write the following words, but he might just need me.

On a new level, somewhere between primal and elevated, he needs me and his body knows it. I’m sure his heart does, but maybe now his head is beginning to realize it, too. And it’s the confluence of the three that I’m sensing in him. It just has to be. Either that or I’m just drunk from all the semen and Domme-y power. That can happen, right??

e[lust] #51

 

potter
Photo courtesy of Property of Potter

Welcome to e[lust] – The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #52? Start with the newly updated rules, come back November 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

 

7 (Random!) Suggestions for Dominant Types!

Pain Positive

i know what you are.

 

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Golden Girl

Have You Met Larry

 

~ Readers Choice from  Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Poetry

Shown
To Punt or Not To Punt, That is the Question

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

SexyLittleIdeas – Why PUA Is Like Feminism
Understanding When His Glass is Full
To Minxy Malone, Thanks For Everything
Biting the Bun
The List (is a waste of time)
Confronting Your Sense of Entitlement
What Do You Prefer: Cut or Uncut?
My Secret Relationship with Max
Quaint Little Categories
Erectile dysfunction isn’t a big deal

Erotic Fiction

Property Procured
The Delight of Leather
Christmas Eve Surprise
Granny’s Door
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Nine
Jessica
The Edge of the Park
Trust
The Blood Mage’s Sacrifice
The Spanking Paddle-Off
Used, Using, Endless

Erotic Non-Fiction

I Want You To
Love like a lotus
Bend to my will
Spanked
How you helped me to stray
Little Lightening Bolts v. Rayne’s Clit
Master’s Fuck Toy
Conflict
Tease For Two
Memories of Spunk
“It’s total perfection.” (My contribution this month!)
Fucking a Girl with a Double Dildo

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Insatiable Whore
Thoughts: Submissive Journals
Bondage vs. restraint
Dominant and Submissive “Fix”
Baring It All
Blow Job Submission – A spicy twist
Quickstart Guide
Struggling with sub drop

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

American Tantra is Full of Shit
Really, Riddick? Really?

Blogging

My nudity

Events

CatalystCon Part 1: Dildos, dildos, dildos

 


elustbutton200

e[lust] #50

mia
Photo courtesy of Down the Rabbit Hole

Welcome to e[lust] – The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #51? Start with the newly updated rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

When the sex isn’t great

The Least You Can Do

I don’t know how to dominate

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

TO THE MAN WHO OWNS MY SUBMISSION

Why I Need Him There.

~ Readers Choice from  Sexbytes ~

First lesbian love

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Non-Fiction

Dressing Up for Master
2 nights of great sex – Monday
Marking My Body
Let’s Get It On
Better Lucky Than Good
starry night
Master’s Filthy Whore
Silence
Watching
Eat Dust
We Made a Sex Tape
Incapable of Thinking
Spank Bank

Erotic Fiction

Hickory, dickory, dock…
Oatmeal and Almost Orgasms
Classroom Adventure
The Inspection
The Hood
Opportunity Knocks
Little Red
Remember Me
Scorched Flesh
Awakening
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Eight
So Easily Bruised
Under the Desk

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Q&A’s of Stainless Steel Sex Toys
Triggers and PTSD
Palate Cleanser
Relationships: Is a sexless marriage normal?
Why Premature Ejaculation is Hot
Casual Encounters on trains and at stations
I wouldn’t really class a client as a lover

Blogging

Introducing Me
Why Bad Sex Toy Reviews Are Important
You never know who you’re going to meet.

Poetry

I want. . .
The Grand Old Duke of York …

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Penis Truths

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Strap-on Sex & Empowerment
Never Thought
Two Cocks, One Mouth, One Excited Jade
Aural Sex
Why I Stay Silent
Sub in Space
Hotter Sex Through Intellect
Nazisploitation and how it relates to BDSM
Service and Ritual
No Stupid (Kink) Questions: Episode 18 – SSC
Kink of the week: Exhibitionism
Pegging: Fun for men, awesome for women


elustbutton200

I shaved my pussy bare for him.

He played my body like an aged rock star, the strings of my body a part of his own, my notes his own voice and my reverberations deep in his bones.

I lay on my back and my lashes fluttered, the ceiling fan silently whirred.  I briefly thought, “I need to dust,” and then was jerked back by his soft tongue lapping at my pussy.  My newly shaved bare pussy.

I have resisted the trend to make myself look prepubescent for years.  I’ve ranted and raved about it, been stubbornly against it, but The Neighbor’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago and I wanted to do something special for him.  Something he’d never ask for and something I knew he quietly wanted.

“I’ve never been with anyone who’s entirely shaved,” he mentioned to me once.  “I know you think it’s nasty, but I think it’s kinda hot.  Forbidden.”  I’d listened patiently, snug in his nook, and played with his chest hair.

Lina was all shaved,” I said quietly.

“Ugh.  Don’t remind me!”

And that was the moment I made my decision.  I wanted to erase her from his memory banks and replace her with visions of my creamy, smooth cunt, shaved just for him.

I was surprised to realize that the decision felt good.  There was no pressure to conform or to “look like that.”  This was a gift for the man I love.

The night before his birthday I stood under scorching hot water and let the heat soak into my bones.  I filled my hand with cream and spread it on my little patch of hair.  My 5-blade razor made quick work on the top and I pulled and stretched the folds of my vulva to get all the little hairs hiding in the crevices.

Then, despite Dumb Dommes’ misgivings about shaving your own asshole, I bent forward, spread my cheeks, slathered on shaving cream, and carefully lay the razor in my crack and dragged outward until the blades came out hair-free.  I was smooth as a petal now.

As I toweled off I peeked at my handiwork and quickly covered back up.  It looked foreign, weird, exceptionally naughty.  I blushed and got dressed for bed, excited to see him later.  It was a good night, that first reveal.

But now his birthday had long since passed as I lay with my legs splayed as his wicked tongue stroked me.  The bristles of his beard — which he was growing just for me — were soft and scruffy on my inner thighs and plump vulva.  I was in motherfucking heaven.

He sneaked his right hand under my bottom and slipped a curved finger inside of me and my face sparkled with pleasure, my teeth chattered.  I gasped and bucked and writhed, his face clung to my center like a cowboy wearing the biggest belt buckle around.

“I need a break!” I whispered suddenly.  “Oh my God, I need a break!”  I was overloaded, on the brink of total torture, not release.  “Please, holy shit, you’re so good at that, I need a break,” I panted again as he stopped and slowly slipped his finger out.

His face was plastered with a grin and a sheen.

I closed my eyes and prepared to get a grip when I felt his finger slide back into me, only this time it was multiple fingers.  “No,” I squeaked weakly, “I can’t handle it!”  I felt both his hands on my knees spread me apart.  I opened my eyes and saw him standing between my legs, looking down at me like a hungry cat, his cock buried in my pussy to the hilt.  His dark pubic hair looked stark against my bare mound.

I imagined what he saw then: my bare body, white, with no interruptions, large breasts slightly flattened that jiggled with my giggles as I realized he’d done a switch on me.

“I thought that was your finger!” I laughed.

“I’m insulted!” he said as he thrust into me and smiled broadly.

“Multiple fingers!” I corrected myself.

He gripped my knees from underneath and hauled me closer to him.  My bottom hung off the edge of the bed.  He pushed deeply into me and the tingling from my face, which his talented mouth had begun, ebbed and traveled down to my center.  I moaned and floated away on more blooming orgasms  — pink and bright, soft, long, and cloudy — as he increased the tempo.  I let go and bounced along like a leaf on a rapid.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and locked my ankles pulling him closer.  He rammed into me and his giant cock slid up through my belly to my goddamned throat.

My hands twisted in the sheets and arched my back against him when he suddenly stopped and quietly stared at me.  I was confused.

He stooped to pick something up and held up my Hitachi triumphantly.

I shook my head No.  He nodded Yes then added, “You are going to cum with me inside of you.”

He flicked the wand on and handed it to me.  Defeated I draped my crotch with a sheet for a small buffer and pressed the head against me.  I jumped and began the climb and he started to move.

I lost myself then.  I couldn’t tell where he ended and the vibrator began.  He was my everything then.  My pleasure, my pain, my torture, my release.  He thrust again and again and I burst at the seams, light split me apart, my cells detached and I screamed and rolled my eyes like a wild mare as I was obliterated in darkness and light; his cock my anchor to Earth and to love and to life.  I was split apart like Neo with the Matrix and I began to sob uncontrollably as it went on and on and on.

Finally, I fell back into my shell.  It had released me.

He scooped me up and held me as tears spilled from my eyes.  I felt so, so small.  Eternally small.

I cried because I only ever felt this way with this man and it was always slipping away.  I cried because I didn’t deserve the pleasure.  I cried because I did.

He kissed and crooned to me and I buried my face in his chest and inhaled his sweet, clean scent.  I rolled to my back and he stroked my naked mound.  His fingers felt warm, honest.  My silly shaved pussy was worth every blush and every moment of post-feminist guilt I’d been experiencing.   A passport to 45 minutes of losing my mind will always be worth it.

He told me he would be leaving soon and I squeezed him tightly.  Happy to have made him so happy.  He loved it and I loved that he loved it.

And I felt motherfucking lucky.

It’s not every day I have someone for whom to shave my pussy bare.  He’s one lucky motherfucker.

e[lust] #47

 

Chintz Curtain Condoms

Photo courtesy of  Behind the Chintz Curtain

Welcome to e[lust] – The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #48? Start with the newly updated rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

 

This Scene Called Life

I Don’t Give A Fig

9 Reasons You SHOULD Have Sex on a First Date

~ Featured Posts (Molly’s Picks) ~

Firm
East Side Exhibitionism

 

~ Readers Choice from  Sexbytes ~

Threesomes: Being a Good Little Unicorn

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Non-Fiction

Sexentric News and Public Cam-Sex Report
The Play’s the Thing
Sadistic Bitch
It was a good night
Kink Chronicles – Panties
Quickie Afternoon Delight
“No, you don’t!”
“Objectification” by Blacksilk
Best.Sex.Ever
So I Asked SilverHubby About Our Orgasms
For Pity’s Sake, No
Like a Virgin
Three Ashes
His Princess and His Slut
I hope my neighbors got a show. – My little contribution!

 

Poetry

Watching
I want to know You
Once Upon an ‘O’

 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Testosterone! Don’t Leave Home Without it!
Why Modeling Is Poison
Should
On the swingset
Achievement Unlocked
How To Make A Woman Orgasm
Mutual Masturbation is Mother****ing Awesome!
The Wonder of Weddings
Introvert recovery
May is International Masturbation Month
Make love to yourself

 

Erotic Fiction

Fighting Spirit
Dinner is Served
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Five
Belle and Sandy
Babygirl Gets Caught

 

Writing about Writing

Beauty and the kebab

 

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Return of the Vulcan Penis Problem
Masturbation Mishaps, Introduction
“For Novelty Use Only”
BDSM Lexicon Entry #24: Aftercare

 

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Mad Men: the dominance of Don Draper
Wicked Wednesday – Knowing When to Say No
Why Do I Like Being Owned?
The difference between BDSM & Abuse


elustbutton200

I know how to squirt.

A lot of women want to know how it is I squirt. Here’s what I’ve learned to do.

Making G-spot Contact

The first time it ever happened to me was roughly 12 years ago. At this point in my sexual history I had just ended a year-long relationship where I orgasmed from only sex (both while on top and bottom) and also had only ever orgasmed from oral once. I was 25.

This particular night was just your average tryst. Nothing special except that this cock was significantly bigger than the one that had made me orgasm for a year. However, despite being less than 5 inches long and fairly narrow, that smaller penis had taught me to sit low and heavy on a man’s groin, to really sink into it and how to ride him with abandon.

I’d been under the wrong impression for years that making love while on top should replicate the man’s motion like when he was on top, but with a cock that was small that was basically like feeling nothing, hence my new moves: to grind down hard and tilt my pelvic cradle against my lover’s in order to stimulate my clitoris against his pubis, to sit tall and not lean over. I came every time with a big clitoral orgasm.

So, naturally, I applied my new method with this bigger lover. I began to feel a glow in my womb and my chest felt numb and buzzing and then I felt a release similar the sensation of urinating, but slightly higher than my urethra. And it felt big and blossoming, but distinctly different from an orgasm.

That first time it squirted in my lover’s eye. We both stopped for a second to laugh. I didn’t know what to say. He exclaimed, “You squirted!” I had no idea what that even meant, but I felt no shame about it. He seemed really pleased about it. And then we kept going.

Looking back on it, it’s my first experience with my g-spot.

Size Can Matter

I never felt that again until the first time I had sex with Troy (I’ll have to share that story some time – it was goddamned epic) and it was because his cock was big enough to massage my g-spot no matter what position we were in; I didn’t have to be on top. He was by far the biggest man I’d ever been with (around 8.5″). He was elated by my juices and I was utterly incapable of controlling them. They just happened to me. It became the center of our fucking.

Which is what set me off in the hunt of large cocks. Honestly, that’s the only reason. I happen to have a deep well and a larger member hits me just right every time. The smaller ones simply don’t. Until I learned some new tricks…

Head Space – What I do

Today I don’t need a large cock to squirt anymore – yay! I’ve learned to squirt on command about 4 out of every 5 times that I try, and it’s dependent on a couple of things. First, I have to be significantly turned on, and second, the more I trust my lover the easier it becomes. My head has to be in the right place if I’m the one in charge of my squirting.

When alone, I imagine gripping the shaft of a cock with my pussy like a fist, and then simultaneously I push out around it while relaxing. All my focus, all my energy, all my breath is focused on my cunt. I contract a few times, then release and push out. Repeat. It’s all I can feel. If I squirt by myself, totally alone, with nothing and no one touching me I am a quintessential cunt. I have this, I think, I am this. If I squirt with my Hitachi, which is actually fairly rare, I am typically sitting on the edge of a bed or standing, so there is pressure on my vulva.

When with a lover, tantric lovemaking elicits much wetness from me and my lover doesn’t even have to be participating in the method. Contracting my vaginal muscles as he pulls out – as if I were sucking him back in – and then pushing against him as he pushes back in – like bearing down – stimulates my g-spot. Switching back and forth like this is only possible when the pace is slower. When the pace is frantic I simply grip with all my might.

Skills – What He Does

There are two things that my lovers have done that have caused me to squirt deliberately. One is with their cock, the other with their hands and fingers.

With any size cock, he pulls out all the way or almost all the way, and if I’m doing my tantric gripping, the sensation of leaving my body makes me squirt.

With his hands and fingers, he curls his fingers inside of me with his palm on my pubis and he slams his hand against me in a small, rapid circular motion. It’s a lot of work for him, it’s not gentle. It’s rough and intense and has always, without exception, yielded results for me.

The Neighbor said that technique worked on an ex-girlfriend, as well, but she squirted with an orgasm at the end of his ministrations, whereas I squirted almost as soon as he put his hand on me and couldn’t stop until he stopped. And again, for me, squirting – or cumming as I sometimes refer to it – is very different from my orgasms, though extremely and overwhelmingly pleasurable. I am left deeply moved and affected; I feel done and relaxed and highly emotional.

Letting Go – It’s Not Pee

I don’t know how clear a picture I’m drawing here. Of course this is one woman’s experience with squirting, but I have talked to my lovers at great length about this. Troy devoured books about the female anatomy and he understood that the ejaculate traveled a similar path as urine, but was certainly not urine. He also believed that an old lover of his would have probably squirted herself, but each time she felt the sensation she ran to the toilet.

And here’s where I have to agree. The sensation prior to ejaculating is reminiscent of peeing, but that’s it. When we need to pee there’s a pressure in our bladder, unmistakable; with squirting, the sensation is lower, more concentrated around the urethra and clitoris.

We have to trust our bodies not to get wires crossed. It’s really that simple. I know I’ve had my run-ins with poo, so you’d think I’d be the last person on the planet to say TRUST YOUR BODY, but I really believe it. I know my system won’t allow me to piss all over my lover in a fit of passion. And in part my trust in my own body allows me to let go and allow the stimulation to rise and then exit my body via a squirt.

Sometimes the fluid is odorless, sometimes it’s musky, sometimes it’s less pleasant and more urine-like. And it can all come from the same woman on different days of the week. Its scent is tied up with hormones and ph levels. Some experts believe that all ejaculate has some urine mixed in, others resolutely say that’s not true. I’m of the camp that sometimes it can be mixed in with a little urine. My ejaculate, like all the anecdotal and scientific research I found, has varied from odorless to faintly of musky to strongly of urine. The Neighbor never said anything and, in fact, once lifted a soaked towel to his face — which to me smelled faintly of urine — and told me it smelled delicious. His enthusiasm helped me to not care and to truly just let go.

Go For It

And here I have to ask a bigger question in general: Even if you did piss on your lover, so what?? You’re engaged in an intimate, messy activity that is inherently complicated and involved with the bowel, bladder, anus, and vagina just to name a few. Shit might happen (as you all know it certainly has with me). So I say, even if you do fear peeing, just fucking go for it. You won’t die and your lover will have a chance to show his mettle. And that’s the worst case scenario. Best case is that you’ll feel a g-spot ejaculation/orgasm!

I hope this has shed some light on the mysteriousness of squirting. I’d love to hear from other women who do it and hear your stories. Are they similar to mine? Different? What do you do to squirt? Do you have any control over it? And to all you women who have never done it, I say to you that you have nothing to lose in trying! Most of you will have the basic building blocks (Skene’s glands are necessary, some think), but at the very least you can have a ton of fun trying!

And here are some articles I liked regarding this whole thing:

Make Her Ejaculate

Female Ejaculation

Shejaculation: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Gush

I figured out how to buy a sports bra that fits.

My bust line is 44″. Forty-four motherfucking inches. On top of that my ribcage is huge; it’s a 36, but it’s also slightly concave as I’m sure you’ve noticed in my more revealing pics.

All this to say, I am large on top by mainstream standards. I wear a 36 DD bra and large, sometimes extra-large, shirts.

Thus, I’ve been buying XL sports bras so the cup will fully cover each breast.

The problem, however, is that if it fits the largeness requirement, it doesn’t fucking provide the proper support! There’s nothing more uncomfortable than large bags of flesh on your chest being tugged away from your body like hot gum from the pavement.

So in a moment of brilliance the other day, I bought two sports bras in a medium. It was as if the skies fucking parted.

The fabric, broad and soft, didn’t cut into me like I’d always expected, and the smaller size held me in like a warm, ace-bandage hug.

Oh, the bliss of my bountiful, bouncing boobies being blessedly bound to my bodacious body! Bliss, I tell you!

On a side note, I discovered today at softball practice that The Neighbor and 4 am girl are on some kind of Sunday Funday league thing together (this league stuff is how he met her 2 or 3 years ago).

I saw her stupid, $1500 mutt when I pulled up to the practice field where they were wrapping up their thing and my heart stopped for a second.

I know he’s lost all interest in her and only interacts with her for this team thing. I’m cool with it. As he once told me, “You won. You got me.” And it’s true. I don’t worry about losing him to someone anymore, least of all her. I’m a leaf in the wind, after all.

It still felt strange that he’s having anything to do with her, but, I guess, no stranger than finding out recently that two weeks after they broke up she called him from jail and he had to do one of those personal bond thingies to vouch for her dumb, drunk ass.

He’d said she’d wanted to keep it a secret and he’d honored that back then, but he no longer cares to keep her secret these days. I can respect that. I still can’t respect her or her $1500 mutt.

Anyway, lets talk about how awesome my new $10 Old Navy sports bras are!

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I get help from my friends.

I’m going to go out by myself later and I asked for advice from one I trust implicitly.  I have this feeling that 4 am girl is coming over tonight to stay with The Neighbor (he’s been over at her place four nights in a row; it makes sense she’d come tonight).  And I want to be scarce.  SCARCE.  Or just so drunk I don’t give a fuck.

The texting took a turn for the worse. All my fault, naturally.

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