He Cums In His Mouth

I love watching my boy wank, I love watching him cum. Even more I love watching him with spunk in his mouth.

This wasn’t the first time I’d watched him do this; that I’d made him do this.
I knelt on the bed, Mat’s head between my legs as he wanked himself for me. When he was near to coming he curled his body upwards and shot his spunk into his own open mouth; tasting himself, swallowing for me.

I sat there watching…
…and this time taking pictures to share.

Knowing What I Need

You might think knowing what you need is easy, but sometimes it takes someone else to help you.

I was upset. Emotional and irrational but with no real idea why. In a moment with my boy I ended up cuddled close to him.
“What do you need?” he asked me.
“I don’t know” was my honest answer.

He sat up then and looked at me squarely.
“You need Perrin to spank you”, he told me.
Once he’d said it, I heard the truth of it, but I was still hesitant.
“You’re going to go and ask him to spank you”, he continued, “or I’ll ask him for you”.

I could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn’t bluffing. This was one of those things that I could tell seemed so simple to him and he wasn’t about to let me complicate it. A part of my mind wondered if I should exert my dominance at this point and forbid him to get involved but I had a strong sense that he’d defy me anyway and, I strongly suspected, take any punishment I later dished out with the infuriating smugness of someone who knows that they’ve been proved right.

Because he was right of course, we both knew that.

I gave in gracefully. Mat led me by the hand to Perrin and left me alone with him with a look that let me know what he expected me to do. Perrin looked on puzzled by our by-play.

I sat down beside him and took a deep breath.
“I need you to spank me”, I admitted through gritted teeth, “Would you please?”

Such a hard thing to say; even now, so very hard to admit to.

In moments I was naked, kneeling before him. This was a simple spanking, his hand on my bottom, nothing fancy needed. It went on for an unmeasurable time, it might have been hours or merely seconds, although the bruises on my bottom suggest it went on for a while. I wriggled and squirmed; ending up stretched out before him but never trying to escape. I cried and sobbed; from pain, from a sense of release and from gratitude that someone knew me well enough to make sure I got what I needed when I didn’t know myself.

When Perrin had finished I curled up close to him. His hand found my pussy then. I was wet, aroused by the spanking. A reaction I could neither hide nor deny. His fingers squelched inside me, spreading my dampness. He played with me then until I came; another release, no less needed. Then he fucked me, my Dom, taking me for his pleasure and letting me know I was his.
Finally I snuggled in his arms, at peace with the world and myself.

So what do I need?
I need what I have, two men who love and understand me and who give me everything I need.

Entertaining Myself

I want to talk to you about masturbation.

Everybody does it. It’s supposed to be good for you; liberating, puts you in touch with your own body, gives pleasure without dependence on other human beings.

Is it just me then who doesn’t actually like it?

Don’t get me wrong. I can masturbate. I have been doing so since I was a small child. My early sex life (and not so early) was entirely solo, and was both enthusiastic and pleasurable.

These days though I tend to feel differently. I don’t orgasm easily, and get so much pleasure from sex in other ways that orgasm is rarely the goal for me at all. Sometimes however I need it. I need to cum. Usually there is a lover’s cock, or hand or tongue to help me, to give me what I need. If nothing else, they are an observer to watch, or to whisper to me, as I touch myself. Sometimes however, when I feel that way, there is no one to share it with me. And that’s where the problems start.

I could give myself an orgasm, I know; but it would be slow, difficult, and unsatisfying. A hollow feeling, relief without joy.

On the other hand my frustration consumes me, making me irritable and distracted.

Perhaps it would be better to attempt it then, to entertain myself. How hard though, when my fantasies contain the lovers who are of necessity absent, and each thought of them brings an ache of need, a desire for more than imagination alone.

So no, I won’t attempt to satisfy this craving by myself. It appears I’ll distract myself by writing about it.

Needing My Boy

I need my little boy. I need him here now. I need to see him kneeling naked at my feet looking up at me. I need to hold his head in my hands and see the submission in his eyes.

I need to slap his cheek and feel him kiss the hand which hurts him. I need to bind his wrists in rope and hold him fast. I need to whip him hard and make him cry. I need to wipe those tears from his eyes with kisses.

I need to rape him and use him. I need him to push his ass towards me, the eager slut I know he can be. I need play with his cock until he begs to cum, and to watch his expression when I say ‘No’. I need his hands and his mouth and his cock to give me pleasure until, all lust exhausted, I can hold him gently in my arms, my good little boy.

I need him to be mine.

An Evening

After dinner, we talked, cuddled, chilled. Then he turned to me, “Take your clothes off”.
The tone told me he was serious. I stood up and slipped off my skirt, followed rapidly by the rest of my clothes. Practicality attempted to rear its head.

“I need the toilet” I pointed out, reasonably.

“Perhaps” he said evilly. He turned and left the room, I heard distant noises as he went to a cupboard, and returned with a large plastic bowl which he placed on the floor. I regarded it in horror.

“You can use that” he commanded.

I knew better than to try to argue. I went and squatted awkwardly over the bowl feeling horribly self-conscious and attempted to perform. I closed my eyes as I sought to relax my muscles.

“Look at me” he demanded.

I opened my eyes and gazed at him, as I tried to concentrate on my body my eyes dropped. Again he insisted on my attention. Finally, my eyes fixed on his, my body cooperated and I felt the relief as my bladder emptied. He handed me paper to wipe with. I did so, feeling more humiliated by his regard than ever.

After clearing it away, I was sent upstairs to the bedroom where he soon followed me.
With twisted humour he sent me back downstairs again to fetch two pegs. I returned, all too full of foreboding.

He ordered me onto all fours, and proceeded to attach the pegs to my nipples. They were mercifully gentle, but I knew more was to come.  He proceeded to spank me. His hand setting up an insistent rhythm. I let it take me away, living in the moment. As I struggled with the pain I sagged under the blows.

“Tell me when you’ve had enough of my hand” he insisted in a tone which left me sure worse was to follow. I debated internally how much bravery to show.

“I’ve had enough” I admitted.

He fetched the crop then, and told me there would be ten strokes, I was to be in the same position for each one.  He began then, in a steady rhythm, not too fast. Each stroke, with power behind it, first on the left, and then the right. That made it easier to take, and I held firm for several strokes before collapsing downwards.

Breathing hard, I was aware of him waiting patiently above me.  I could delay the remaining strokes indefinitely, all I had to do was lie still.  I wondered briefly if I could avoid the remaining strokes entirely by refusing to resume my position. Even as I thought it, I realised how much I would hate such an outcome.

I forced myself back onto my hands and knees, eager to complete this challenge. The last few strokes were delivered evenly. I felt the burning in my bottom, and wondered what more was in store.

He pushed me down now, so I lay on my front.
He moved behind me, forcing my legs apart, and kneeling between them. His hand ran up my thigh, his fingers swirling in the dampness between them. I shuddered at his touch, knowing he could tell how turned on I was by everything he had done.

I felt his cock then, pushing into my pussy. His body over mine pressing against the soreness in my bottom.

“Push your ass up to me” he ordered.

As I did so, I felt him go deeper, and I cried out helplessly at the total penetration. His pounding intensified, and I struggled to hold position. I felt his urgency, and pushed back eagerly until I felt him cum inside me, crying out with his pleasure.

I collapsed downwards now. Him lying on me, sated.

Then he withdrew, and lifted his weight off me. His hand snaked between my legs, as I lay there, with such little touches needed until I too was crying out with delight.

Our needs met, we snuggled together, and settled down to sleep.

The Dressing Gown

You’d been in your dressing gown all day.

As we sat on the sofa, finishing off our wine, the dressing gown had slipped off your shoulders, revealing smooth skin, your silver collar and the swell of your breasts. Your nipples were just out of sight, tantalisingly close to my gaze.

As you lean forward to put you goblet down. The dressing gown gapes open to reveal a breast, smooth and soft. I cannot resist.

You look momentarily startled as I push you sideways onto the sofa. You see the lust in my eyes, and help me move your legs up onto the sofa, so you are lying along it. I push your legs up displaying your naked bald pussy to me.

“Naughty girl”, I say. You look at me questioningly. “You have spent all day in your dressing gown, not bothering to dress, or even brush your hair.” You look at me fearfully, resigned to the punishment that is to come.

You gasp as my hand strikes hard across your exposed pussy. Lying on your back, with me holding your legs straight up, your pussy lips are exposed to me hand. I slap you hard across your arse, twice, alternating cheeks, then again in the middle, across both cheeks and your pussy. I can see your clit swelling as your arousal builds.

I continue my assault on your exposed backside, and you scream as I again hit your pussy with the palm of my hand. I stop, listening to your ragged breathing as you try to take in what is happening to you. I push my fingers deep into your pussy and you gasp again at the welcome intrusion.

You are dripping wet and ready for me.

I stand up, and pull off my top throwing it over your face and head. You know better than to try and move it. I take off my trousers and pants, and move between your legs. You part them, eager for my cock.

I frown, your breasts have hidden themselves underneath your dressing gown. That will not do. I reach down, and, gripping your dressing gown, I rip it open, snapping the inner tie holding it closed. You jump at the sound, but then I am on you, cock deep in your pussy. You take me easily, so aroused and turned on that you are.I fuck you hard and fast, holding your hands above your head, pinning you down.

You try to catch your breath as I stop briefly, but it just to rearrange you. You groan as I push your legs up to your chest, knowing the deep fucking that is to come. I do not disappoint, pounding into your abused pussy, my heavy balls slapping against you as I take my pleasure. You writhe and squirm, tossing your head from side to side as I fuck you hard and deep. I can see you are ready.

I let your legs down, moving my top, so you can see me again. I lie down, pressing against your breasts, and you reach round to hold me there, thrusting your tongue into my mouth, your thoughts full of need. I start moving again, my thrusts slightly more measured, rubbing your clit as I more in and out, pushing you closer. You detect my movements becoming less controlled as I near my orgasm. In pace with me, you cry out your orgasm as my cock spurts my come deep into you.

“I take it you enjoyed that.” I say smiling down at you. You can only blink and stare as your orgasm subsides.

Sleeping Beauty

When we arrived at the Bedtime Stories party, there was a huge bed on which Sleeping Beauty was lying while her prince was trying unsuccessfully and enthusiastically to wake her.

Watching this was a fascinating experience for me. I was struck by her ability to remain still despite the attentions of the prince and those he drafted in to help. Her vulnerability initially made me nervous, although I relaxed as I realised that her prince was also her protector if any had been needed.

I found myself wondering how it would feel to be such a doll. Although I have been restrained, both physically and by being ordered to remain still I had never attempted not to respond to stimulation. On the contrary, some level of response is usually both desired and expected.

So it seemed like a fun idea to experiment.

I curled up in bed and ‘slept’. Perrin came into the room. His hands brushed my face, and I found myself incredibly aware of each touch as I concentrated on remaining still.  I felt him kissing my mouth and face, but rather than needing to react I found myself sinking into a space where I could feel and hear and yet was happy to remain passive.

His hands moved the duvet away little by little. each time his touch became more intimate, as he played with my breasts and then moved down to my pussy. I wondered how it would feel if there were other people present rather than just the two of us, and from inside my doll space I could see suddenly how that could be fun instead of scary.

I felt him rearrange my limbs, and I tried to remain unresisting, while wondering if I was actually too floppy or tense. I lay motionless as he started to make love to me, and was astonished as I concentrated on simple details, such as holding the curve of my hands still, and keeping my breathing light, how aroused I became and how wonderful it felt.

Under his kiss then, I let myself rouse at last, to confirm he was enjoying the game also, and to reassure him of my own reactions. For a moment I enjoyed responding to his movements, but I felt the game unfinished somehow.

I let myself flop, returning to doll space. I felt his cock pounding into me, and felt how easily it moved in my dampness. It felt liberating to focus on it, without any attempt to chase my own orgasm, which was simply impossible for me to reach as a doll.

He pulled out suddenly, and I felt his knees against me as he straddled me and I could hear his hand playing with his cock, and his breathing quickening. I realised then what was coming, and felt more doll like than ever. Accepting, unresisting. I lay still, lips slightly parted, aroused but passive as his cum covered my face. As it fell into my mouth, I tasted it and then slowly opened my eyes to smile at him. Then, no longer a doll, I could receive my own orgasm and bask in a happy afterglow of satisfaction.