Masturbation Monday: Denna and her convenient pervert 2

Denna looked up at me then. It seemed that she didn’t mind being a good girl. She drew her lips back along the shaft to concentrate on the glans, still sucking. There was an audible pop when she released me. I reached down to help her up, but she kissed my cock goodbye, and only then took my hand.

So we stood together, with things to ask and say, about her experience of Doing As She’s Told, but we couldn’t have that conversation in surreptitious whispers. This wasn’t the time and place. So I reached under her gown and squeezed her ass, holding her tight. We pressed foreheads together, so that she had two eyes, then four and finally one.

We grinned at each other like wolves. I whispered, “It’s fucking cold,” and pushed her gown off her shoulders and she stood naked.

Denna mouthed the word, “Bastard”.

I kissed her. I whispered, “When I get you away from the family home, I’ll spank you for that. Fact.” 

She grinned, knowing that it was only a fact if she agreed. She could make me very disappointed, and we both knew it. So I rolled the blankets aside and pushed her onto the bed, on her back. She pulled the covers over her body, and watched while I crawled like a wolf, the big and bad kind, from the bottom of the bed towards her cunt, still vulpine. I slid my hands under her ass, and lifted her a little. I sniffed her cunt and whispered, “Smells like a girl who does as she’s told.”

Denna made a noise with her nose, indicating that she wasn’t putting up with bullshit like that, and put her hand heavily on the back of my head. I dipped my tongue in smooth girl wetness. She wriggled, making herself comfortable, and spread and lifted her thighs.

Time passed enjoyably for both of us, until her stomach muscles and the muscles in her thighs tightened.

She writhed, hands squeezing the flesh of my shoulders till it almost hurt. Then she released her grip and fell back, gasping silently for breath.

I climbed my way up her body, pausing to kiss her belly, her breasts and her throat. We lay entwined, cuddling, with no particular sexual needs or ambitions, but after perhaps half an hour Denna started stroking my cock. So we fucked. We started lovingly, like the night before, but Denna let her head fall, exposing her throat, and spread her arms out over her head. So I raised my body, arms straight, and gave her my hardest and roughest fuck. We finished gasping each other’s breath, and sweaty-haired despite the cold.

She was worried that she’d sleep too well. I set my phone to wake her, on vibration, at 4.30. The alarm must have worked for her, though I slept through it. When I woke up, late for breakfast, she was back in her own bed.

Masturbation Monday: Emilia’s tale 2

So I’d just threatened to put Emilia over my knee, for disciplinary purposes. It took me a moment to hear what I’d just said. I thought I’d sounded like a roué in an ancient sex comedy, something black and white and British, on television at three in the morning, starring Terry-Thomas and Syd James.

At that time I’d kept bdsm hidden for seven years. I played bdsm with strangers, or I masturbated to dark fantasies, but I didn’t offer to spank my women friends. Or I hadn’t until just then. I wanted to slap my forehead, but my hand was busy patting and squeezing Emilia’s ass. In the absence of complaint from her I’d keep on doing that.

Still, I’d just threatened her with assault: low-level violence, some sexual content. We still hugged, but she was no longer holding an honourable gentleman.

Emilia didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t a gentleman. Her eyes widened, but she said, almost without a pause, “Yes, yeah, I know. You should.”

Oh? Relief was followed a second later by the thought that, if that was the case, then it was a pity I’d said, “if you ever do that again”. How long would it take for Emilia to do something like that again? What was wrong with now?

I thought about whether there were any private spaces in my apartment where Emilia could be suitably disciplined, as we both obviously wanted, and realised that the thing simply couldn’t be done. There were people sleeping everywhere, since they weren’t fit to drive home after my party. They probably wouldn’t stay asleep during any of the noisier pleasures.

That train of thought led to other speculations. I imagined Emilia, a vista of muscular but soft woman draped over my knee, her tee-shirt pulled over her head and her panties on the floor. I’d smack her gorgeous bottom a few times because I couldn’t resist, but surely I should start with reassuring and mood-setting stroking. Yes, that is what I’d do.

My hand told me there was just Emilia under that cotton t-shirt, so there were just two layers of material between our bodies, her tee and my dressing gown, a silk one with dragons that I’d bought in Vietnam.

The middle of one of the dragons pressed, roused, into Emilia’s lower belly. She looked up at me, eyebrows raised.

Some explanation seemed called for. “Yeah. Oddly enough, spanking you is something that I’d enjoy very much. In a, ah, rather pervy way.”

 She laughed, evaluating what she had here. “Yes, you would. You would, wouldn’t you?” But her belly stayed in contact with the hardening, stretching sign of pervy enjoyment.

Masturbation Monday: Emilia’s tale 1

It was the morning after my thirtieth birthday party. I’d got up, and started collecting dishes, glasses and ashtrays for the dishwasher. No one else was awake yet.

This is the t-shirt image. Emilia’s t-shirt was, er, longer

But a bedroom door opened, and Emilia Vivian emerged, in a manga tee-shirt that hung almost to her knees. Emilia was a doctor, a glowing light-brown woman with large, almost black eyes and an extraordinarily sweet face framed by medium-length black hair. She was small but contoured. She lifted weights.

Emilia was embarrassed to find me, and uncertain of her welcome. Last night she’d performed the party’s most spectacular piece of bad behaviour, launching a screaming attack on her best friend, accusing her of fucking her last boyfriend, of pretending to be sweet but always undermining her and some other girl on girl offences.

It’d been the least fun part of the evening, but I’d already forgiven her because the outburst had been so out of character, and because, only a few minutes later, Emilia had fallen asleep in that same friend’s arms. Wine sometimes solves the problems that it creates.

But Emilia was hung over, embarrassed and ashamed, so I hugged her. I let her go when she winced. But she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, having dealt with her bladder and her head, and wrestled her way back into the hug. “I’m really sorry, Jaime. I don’t know what … Well, I’m sorry.”

My hand was, just then, the most important part of my body, and had all of my attention

“Ah, love, it’s okay. You’d had a bit of wine. And … you probably had reasons.” I found myself hugging Emilia with one arm while reaching down to squeeze her ass with my other hand. Affectionately, you know. We had history, Emilia and I. In the years I’d been with a girl called Susie, we’d sometimes talked and gazed earnestly into each other’s eyes, and we’d once almost had sex.

I’d had my penis partly inside her when conscience, hers more than mine, finally won. It’s quite a late stage to worry about fidelity, but we’d stopped and separated. I’d felt noble, though I doubted Susie would’ve admired it. So Emilia and I were intimates, without having had sex. Or not exactly sex.  

Emilia rubbed my chest with her forehead. “No, I didn’t have reasons. Not good ones.”

“Well, okay, but I still know you’re a wee love. You’ve got years of credit with me; you can’t blow it in one evening.” Emilia smiled up at me. “And I still don’t think it came from nowhere.” More smiles.

When your brain steps into manga-world…

A nice man was being nice to her. And the ass-squeezing was probably a great comfort in her time of self-recrimination.

Then information from that bottom-squeezing hand swamped my brain. I added, “Though … if you ever do anything like that again, Emilia, I’ll put you over my knee.”

Masturbation Monday: Mating Megan 3

I’d slid easily into Megan, standing behind her, while she was still bent over the bench. I occasionally struck her flanks, the side of her buttocks and her upper thighs, while I rode her ass. I still held the belt, firmly in my hand. Whipping her was my duty, and my pleasure, and mine. 

When Megan submitted, she gave me continuous guidance about what she wanted.

For example, I knew that she could come within seconds if I told her to, but that otherwise she’d wait until I gave her permission.

I knew that I should delay that permission, because she didn’t want to be allowed release till she’d begged and reached an agony of tension.

She hadn’t said a word of that to me,  and I don’t how she’d let me know these fine and intricate things. But she had told me, somehow.

We fucked, still slowly, knowing we could stay slow for much longer, and I strapped her right side six times with my belt. In answer Magan made a harsh, sex noise: “Harrgh, harr, harrrgh…” Because my cock was no longer obstructing her mouth. 

I smiled, for simple happiness, and then applied the belt, just as hard on the left side, while she pushed back at me, possessing and riding my cock, and sang that low, harsh pleasure song again. Only then could I speed up. And though she wanted me to, she wouldn’t until I’d set the new pace. 

It had been a long time since I’d engaged with these complexities, and I loved returning to them. The intuitive link between dominants and submissives, the way we know each other, was where a part of me was most alive. The same would be true of her. We made happiness, if not love.

Megan lifted her legs off the ground, to hold me while I fucked her, and pressed her feet just below my buttocks, moving together with me, her temporary master, her cock and pain-giver. She sighed, and tightened the pressure on my buttocks. 

She said things (“fuck me fuck me sir please come in me”, and so on) that I won’t quote too closely here because they’d seem silly, while in that context they didn’t seem silly at all. She wanted my come, even in a condom; it meant so much. 

I smiled at her, since she couldn’t see me. Megan liked to beg. I said, as if grudgingly, “That’s better.”

And it was. Our carefully passionate meetings weren’t everything I wanted. We kept a certain kind of emotional distance because of the ban on falling in love, and that never quite felt right to me. But having this in my life was better. It truly was.

Masturbation Monday: Mating Megan 2

The previous episode is here.

I put my hand in her hair and Megan made a low, harsh sound of appreciation, so I tangled more hair in my fingers and pulled, hard. I moved a little faster, and stepped up the pace of her strapping. Megan tried to say something, but my cock obstructed her.

I paused. “What was that?” 

“Harggr.” 

Oh. I knew what she’d said, but I said, “You’ll have to be clearer than that.”  I swung the belt down again, hard, across her back and buttocks. She jerked forward.

There was a brief wet second in which she had almost all of my cock. Then she had to draw back again.

Megan said, with what should have been extreme clarity, “Har-weh. Deh! Deh.” There was urgency in that voice. I was charmed by her enunciation, given that I blocked her tongue and mouth. I decided I should get a gag for her, so long as it was only partly effective.

“Oh, do you mean, ‘harder’?”   

“Ess. Ess ease. Puh. Puh ease.”

“Good girl.” I strapped her harder, six times, while her cries rose in pitch and she sounded very close to coming. I withdrew entirely from her mouth and walked round the table. I touched the soft skin just below her left buttock.

Megan trembled, but the tension was not fear. I asked, as if I was offering a glass of milk, “Megan, would you like to be fucked now?”

I put on a condom, and then grasped her hips tight, fingers pressing as hard as I could. She said, in sexual rage, “Yes! Yes please.” 

“That’s right.” I stood behind her, between her feet, and leaned forward, cock disappearing into her. Megan was wet, and her bottom warm from the belt.

Masturbation Monday: Mating Megan

Megan, who’d written to me, was pretty, clever and real. So I contacted her back. She insisted on a picture of me with my shirt off. I starved myself for a couple of days, which made no difference, and managed my own phone camera and bathroom mirror picture. It took nearly forty pictures to get one in which I wasn’t too obviously sucking my stomach in. But it passed.

She called me and made a speech she’d probably made before: she didn’t want a relationship; she wanted hard bdsm sex. In her bedroom, she wanted a man to take what he wanted from her and do what he wanted to her. But I wasn’t to think that I had rights over her when I wasn’t in her bedroom. Okay?

I said all that was fine with me. “By the way, you don’t like Dobermans, do you? I mean, romantically?”

“Dobermans?” I’d made her laugh. “You’ve been on this site, and now you ask all your girls if they’re into dobermans? Like that’s something you have to be wary of? You’ve had a time!”

“I could a tale unfold…”

She, fortunately, didn’t want to hear it. “Anyway I hate dogs. Do you want to, um, stick pins in me?” I said something crass about things I did want to stick in her, but not pins, and so she agreed to meet me in what was becoming my favorite bar.

Megan looked as good as her photos, and I looked no worse than mine. I knew I wanted her once she’d walked through the door. She took longer to decide about me, I think, because she was much prettier than me. But I clinched my case when she knocked our table, spilling wine, and I promised to leather the front of her thighs for that.

If I’d said “thighs”, or “the back of your thighs”, I might not have won her. But “the front of your thighs” showed ambition and attention to detail. She considered that, and said we had a date.

The date was for Friday night, at her apartment. Some time that night Megan was tied to a table, face down, with her knees spread and drawn up like a frog’s. I’d roped her knees to the tops of the table legs. Her thighs blushed front and back, since I’d over-delivered on my promise.

We were in a classic dominant-submissive configuration, Megan naked, bound and bent, and I standing clothed before her, my cock in her mouth. She suckled, slowly nodding, while I drew back and pushed forward, unhurried, as if absent-mindedly.   

About twice a minute, I would swing my belt down her back so the end cracked and curled around her bottom and the insides of her thighs. Megan rewarded each stroke by taking my cock deeper for a second or two. She’d said it was safe to strap her hard because she never bit when she was strapped. Her mouth always opened, in response to pain.

I was impressed: it’s not something that most people know about themselves. She was more experienced and skilled than me. She was a technician of pleasure. She was also quite wise and cheerfully sensible, and though we were nearly strangers I liked her.

We’d never be lovers. But we gave each other truth. Accepting Megans measured submission let me expand to fill more of myself. It was like re-opening the disused wing of a house. 

The next episode is here.

Note

I don’t have time to write another instalment of the Maires, Stephanie and me story. I’m writing a non-erotic novel, and dealing with crazed bureaucrats. So this is a story I prepared earlier. 

Masturbation Monday: Stephanie the Sir-sayer

“Stephanie, my sweetlove, put your knees under Maires’s shoulders. And get your cunt nice and comfortable.”

Stephanie considered. She said, for the first time, “Yes, sir.” She was just trying it out, to see how it felt to say it. But hearing from her it was powerful magic.

Sincere or not, I felt it right through my body. I took her hand and put it on my cock. She squeezed. “Oh! It’s not quite dead!”

“Say, ‘sir’ again.”

Stephanie looked at me, eyes unnaturally wide, then dropped her gaze submissively. She breathed, “Oh, yes, sir.”

I knew she was taking the piss, but that didn’t seem to matter. She tightened her grip on my cock, which answered her. “Oh my god, it’s not dead at all. It’s just like ET! Sir.”

I grinned. I said, “You can play all the games you like. But the truth is, you already half mean it, Stephanie.” She looked away for a second.

“You might be right. Sir.” 

I tried so hard not to look smug. Really I did. “Now, I gave you an order. It’s an order that gets your cunt licked. So…”

“Yes! Sir!”

And she scrambled, straddling Maires, and lowered her body slowly until a little gasp told me she’d made contact with Maires’s tongue. I imagined Maires smiling, buried as she was in beautiful woman, tongue working hard to please her new sister.

Stephanie trembled slightly as Maires licked up at her cunt. This was completely new, for her, and wonderful.

Her ass was sweetly poised, in one of the classic spank-me positions. It trembled a little, too. 

That ass seemed so intensely inviting to me, even if Stephanie had probably forgotten, for the moment, that I existed.

But there was her gorgeous arse, jiggling up and down in response to Maire’s tongue. There were no games, now: I was simply hard.

Yes, I decided, this was a very good time to introduce something else new. New for Stephanie, at least. I rolled off the bed onto the floor, and took the belt from my jeans.

 

 

 

 

 

Masturbation Monday: Stephanie among the burning beasts

The previous episode is here.

 

I lay on Stephanie’s back, cock slowly softening inside her. Even though I’d reach under her to hold her breasts, cupping, squeezing and pinching her nipples, not too hard. Even though that was something I’d been wanting to do for eight years. 

I kissed her shoulder and then her neck, and she waggled her arse under me. That was welcome too, but I was spent. For the time being. I said, “Scuse me a sec. Sorry.” And I wthdrew from her while I was still hard enough to be sure the condom would stay with my cock.

I dropped the condom out of sight under the bed and rolled onto my side, so Stephanie and I lay facing each other, our heads each resting on one of Maires’s thighs. Maires reached down and stroked our hair, and we kissed. Stephanie put her hand on my soft, wet cock. “You’re all fucked out. I’ve drained you.” 

There was an odd mix of pride and disappointment in her expression. For no good reason except that I was enthusiastic about her arse, I smacked it, first lightly, then hard, a proper spank.

“Oh, I’ll probably be back in a bit. And in the meantime… tongues on men are like strap-ons on women. They never get exhausted.” 

“Jesus, Jaime,” Maires said. “That’s absolutely fucking Wildean.” 

So I smacked the outer side of her thigh, twice. That, for some reason, helped me work out what we should do next. “Come down the bed, Maires. Right down, so your feet can touch the floor. No, on your back.” 

Stephanie rolled onto her back, to give Maires room, and watch her. I said, “Good girl. Now stop there.”

“Yes, Sir.” Maires usually didn’t acknowledge orders she was already obeying. But she wanted to show off her status to Stephanie. And to suggest that it could be fun. She liked games, the fun kind, and she played well.

I kissed her, and took a pillow. “I’m going to put this under your shoulders. Up a bit for a moment, girl.”

“Yes, Sir.” She smiled at Stephanie. And frowned at me: what in fuck was I up to?

I got the pillow into place. “Now drop your head back. You’re an accessory.”

She looked at me, still frowning, before obeying. “After the fact?”

“You’re a cunt-licking accessory.”

“Ah. A very, um, willing cunt-licker, sir.”

I said, “Not that it matters.”

I took Stephanie’s hand. She’d been watching us, fascinated. She’d blushed, just lightly, when I called Maires a cunt-licking accessory: that was rude. No one talks to a woman like that, she’d have said two hours ago, and yet it was hot. We were animals now, fiery like Blake’s tiger, in the night. And the cunt in question was hers. 

Masturbation Monday: The adventures of Stephanie’s ass

The previous episode is here.

I‘d told Stephanie that I’d fuck her again when, and possibly if, she could make Maires moan. Since I wanted her very much, I was intending to interpret any sexual comfort noises that Maires might make as moans. But Maires had a strong mischievous streak, and I expected that she’d be silent for a while, making Stephanie work and keeping me from entering her.

I knew that Stephanie minded my cock not being in her, which was in itself a powerfully erotic thought. She was on her knees, her ass up and her head down between Maires’s thighs, mouth and tongue on Maires’s cunt, her hands under Maires’s thighs. Maires wriggled under Stephanie, to give her better access. She let her hands rest lightly on Stephanie’s head, caressing rather than directing. 

I watched them, two beautiful women, both of whom I loved in different ways, in loving embrace. Stephanie was having a new experience. I wondered how she was feeling. But as far as I could tell she was pixified, enchanted, happily exploring Maires’s cunt and her own responses.

I was still dangerously close to coming. When I entered Stephanie, I hoped to last at least until Maires came. But just then simply entering the soft paradise of her cunt again, feeling her ass pressed against me, would bring me to release.

I tried to relax, and despite the eroticism of their mutually moving bodies, I thought for a moment about all the species of dog I could name, that began with the letter L: labrador, lowchen, wasn’t there a Lhasa something?

But Maires grunted, a pleasured sound, and then made a low groan through her nose. I said, “Labradoodle,” which fortunately they ignored, and positioned myself behind Stephanie, holding her hips.

We moved together, in time with the rhythm of Stephanie’s head between Maires’s thighs, slowly joining.

Then Stephanie gasped, like Maires had, as I pushed deeper into her, sometimes withdrawing a little then moving forward, skin sliding wetly along sensitive skin.   

I wanted to praise them both, for being beautiful, and good and loving, but just then I couldn’t do words. Maires made another pleasure noise, under Stephanie’s mouth, and I sped up, fucking Stephanie harder, faster. I knew that sound, though Stephanie hadn’t heard it before. Maires was close.

Maires lifted her knees then, thighs tightly clasping Stephanie’s head. Her hands that had rested on the back of Stephanie’s head clenched, seizing her by the hair, and pulling. Her body worked, pushing up at Stephanie’s face. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth opened, a silent scream, and then her ass rose from the bed while she clawed at Stephanie’s back and growled.

Lioness, I thought. My love is like a lioness. And I leaned down to kiss the back of Stephanie’s neck, reached under her to hold her breasts, and came in her. Also growling.

Stephanie laughed, triumphant, having made us both come. But, I noted, she hadn’t come herself.

We two growling animals would have to pleasure her, next. Stephanie had fallen amongst the burning beasts.

 

The next episode is here.  

Masturbation Monday: Favours and flavours exchanged

The previous episode is here.

 

Seconds later Maires yowled her own cry, and I felt her cunt seem to clutch at my cock. There was a series of fluttering contractions, and I gasped with the pleasure of it, which was almost too intense to bear. I said, “Ahhhh, uh,” while Maires screamed.

I reached under her and squeezed her breasts, with my thumbs and forefingers squeezing and hurting her nipples, and rode her ass hard, and fast, until she screamed again. 

There seemed to be finality in that second orgasm. Maires had no more left, for a while. So I slowed, growling like a bear, and then stopped.

Maires rested her head on Stephanie’s right thigh. Her hair was wet. 

“Two happy girls. I think this is the best thing there is.” That was inane. Neither Stephanie nor Maires answered. It was true, though.

I’d held off my own orgasm when Maires came because I’d already come in Stephanie’s mouth, when we were in the playground across the road, and that gave me the control to hold myself back. I wanted my next orgasm to be… later.

This has never seemed like a bad idea

I could come in Stephanie’s mouth again. Or in Maires’s. Or both. Maybe I just wanted to fuck Stephanie again. Or both of them. The next time I came, it would take a while to recover. And this was no time for down time. Still, I thought, maybe I could lie on my back, while Stephanie sat on my cock, riding happily, and Maires was on my face where I could tongue her.

On the other hand, maybe the next person to do Maires with their mouth should be Stephanie. Anyway, there was no such thing as a bad choice.

Still undecided, I smacked Maires’s arse again. “Keep very still.”

Maires froze obediently, and I pulled out of her cunt, very slowly. And very carefully; it would take very little to make me come, just then. I rolled Maires over onto her side, and we kissed. Then, without needing to speak, we both moved up the bed, where Stephanie held out her arms, welcoming both of us.

We kissed, the three of us, the two women side by side like the base of a triangle. I was the apex, above them, my cock comfortably held between their hips. Stephanie kissed Maires, and looked at her. Some understanding passed between them, though I didn’t know what it was.

But Stephanie put her hand on my cock. She squeezed, and I gasped again: her cock-puppet. Then she opened her legs again. “You said you’d be in me, once I got onto the bed.”

“Oh. I did, didn’t I?” I slipped my cock between Stephanie’s thighs, the head just touching her cunt. It was a good promise, and I wanted to keep it. But I didn’t push forward. Not yet. Stephanie gazed up at me, puzzled. What was keeping me? 

I said, “Maires? When was the last time Stephanie licked you?”

Maires grinned, while Stephanie looked briefly apprehensive. The answer was ‘never’. I’d be willing to bet that Stephanie had never used any part of her body to pleasure another girl in her life. I kissed Stephanie, then. “Maires just made you come. Do you think you can return the favour?”

“I’ll try.” Then Stephanie looked across at Maires. “Maires, if I’m doing it wrong, please tell me. And tell me what to do. I’m not very – Well, I’m not even slightly experienced.”

Maires hugged her, one hand on her breast, her cunt pressed firmly against Stephanie’s hip. “The only thing you can do wrong, darling, is not enjoy yourself.”

Stephanie’s experience of my belt was still hypothetical. But all three of us knew it was going to happen. Though we didn’t know when.

I said, because it seemed time to reclaim one particular kind of erotic tension, “Or not try hard enough. You’ll show enthusiasm, Stephanie.”

Stephanie grinned and squeezed my cock again. She weren’t afraid of no doms. So I put growl back into my voice. “My belt is on the floor, at the moment. And you haven’t felt it across your arse, yet. Both of those things can change, girl.”

Stephanie only stroked my cock. But Maires knew what was happening. She said, “Sir, I think she does need the belt. And I really want to watch while she gets it.”

Stephanie raised her eyebrows at that, but I could feel her mood changing back. I was in command again. I said, “Onto your back, Maires. And Stephanie, onto your knees. You know what to do.”

Same as before (but the women have swapped positions)

Maires rolled out from under me, and held out her arms for Stephanie. She wanted her. I thought Stephanie would like the new experience, and feel proud of herself when Maires came. But Stephanie didn’t move. She said, “What about you?”

“The first time we hear Maires moan, you’ll get my cock back. Where it belongs, pretty girl.”

So Stephanie rolled onto her tummy, head between Maires’s thighs. Slowly, and spectacularly, her ass rose.

 

The next episode is here.