Masturbation Monday: What we both want

We definitely did. Draw things out in each other. Right from the moment you pushed my skirt up.”

That was a good memory for Roland, obviously, His cock thickened in Teresa’s hand, not quite to hardness, but a sign of renewed interest just the same. 

He took her hand then, and kissed it, then bit it. Teresa said, “Yes… I was hoping you’d bite me.” 

He took each of her fingers then, kissed each sensitive fingertip, then squeezed it between his teeth, in turn. “Pleasure,” he said.

He pushed her down onto the bed, on her back, and repeated that treatment, kissing her labia, then her clitoris, and then biting. Teresa said, “Ah, but… Ahhhh…” And under the ministrations of his mouth she forgot what she was talking about. She lay back, and accepted his tongue, and the warm feelings of comfort and a kind of wary love, an emotion that warned of bigger emotions on their way, and let her hands drop to the bed, at her sides, and her thighs open for him. 

At some point she roused herself, mentally, while he tongued her, and said, “But…” 

He lifted her left thigh and smacked the underside. Not softly or playfully; the smack of someone who she had given her consent. She considered that, while waiting for the second smack she was sure would be coming, and nodded: so be it. He gave her that second smack, as close to her bottom as he could reach.

Then lifted his head just long enough to say, “There are no buts, Teresa.”

There’s my butt, she thought rebelliously, and you like to hurt it. She grinned, imagining herself saying, You pervert! But she didn’t say that. Because he’d lowered his head again, and this time took as much squishy Teresa-flesh as he could into his mouth and closed his teeth a little, and shook his head as if he were a dog tearing flesh. A polite, gentle, careful dog. Then he resumed tonguing her, focussed on her clitoris while he slipped three fingers into her. 

Teresa could feel her toes curl, and then curl tight, and her fingers made fists. She grunted, hard, and then moaned, like the wail of a cat being fucked.

Roland only sped up, and the other familiar sensation, tight in her thighs and her belly, rose in her. She moaned, but then when orgasm took over her body she could only gurgle: “k… k… k…”

And then time was floaty, and nothing meant anything or had to have meaning. But at last she felt his cock, hard now, touch her left calf muscle.

She knew she wanted that. In her mouth, she decided. She’d like to swallow him And his come.

But first she said, remembering the thing she’d thought before, “But I meant, would you, bite me to draw blood?”  

“No. No, sorry, I wouldn’t want to do that. No.” 

“You’re really no fun.” She was joking, but she was disappointed and a little sad. She knew they’d both have to think and talk about this some more. There had to be some way they could both have all of what they wanted, without having to take on too much of what they didn’t want.

But she half rose and leaned down to kiss his belly, and there was no question in that moment, or in the next several minutes, what they both wanted. 

Food for Thought Friday: If music be the food of love

I was working as a psychiatric nurse, in some place out in the country. The job had an alarming side, or two sides.

On the one hand, some of the patients would kill you if you gave them a chance. They were always looking for that chance, in a focussed way. You, the nurse, are thinking about other patients, about the hot nurse in the other ward, and so on. So you sometimes got close to getting killed, when they made their attempt.

There was a blind guy, for example, of immense strength, and he’d always know where you were. Unless you backtracked extremely quietly, to get out of range. Then he’d grab something like an armchair, raise it high and bring it down on the spot you’d just stepped silently back from. He could do that in one movement, terrifyingly fast, because he was, as I said, immensely strong.

On the other hand, Barbara, who was also a nurse, once spilled some of the medication she was issuing to patients onto her uniform, which was mostly polyester. And the polyester started to dissolve! I was desperate for a chance to see through her uniform – hey, I was seventeen years old – but somehow that wasn’t sexy. Not even when I put her under a tap, in case any of it got on her skin.

She was twenty, which I thought was an utterly insurmountable age gap, so I’d never set my sights on her. But later she and I were hanging out in my room, and I put on Dark Side of the Moon. When we got the opening piano chords of “Great Gig on the Sky”, she said, “That girl sounds like I do, when I’m fucking.” 

I was seventeen, as I said, and my sexual history was just four girls long at that time. It should have been longer because I was a pretty boy, not that I knew that. But I had a real fear of making an Unwanted Advance, so I often held back until I was certain, when in reality I’d been signalled so hard that the girl would decide that I must not be interested. I’d missed a lot of offers.

Anyway, I decided that might be an offer, so I put an arm round her, and she leaned in to me. We sat together, listening to music and pretending that was what we were focussed on. From that moment in this story (except for about five minutes of it), I have an erection.

When Clare Torry comes in and sings, Barbs kissed me, and I kissed her back. Then we were writhing around on the floor. Barbs undid my pants, kissed my cock, and then took it in her mouth. She was the first girl who’d done that, and it was incandescently pleasurable, of course, but also an enormous relief to me.

That is, I’d been in the company of feminist friends who talked a lot about cocks as if they were nasty things, a kind of horror that men inflicted on women. And because it was obvious that sexism and patriarchy were utterly unfair and unpleasant things, I’d started to think maybe they were right about that too. So as well as the sexual pleasure, Barbs also moved me emotionally, because of the acceptance of it: she must actually really like my cock!

If I’d told her all that, she’d have thought I was nuts, I was sure, so instead I just babbled about how wonderful she was. Then, when Clare Torry was winding down, I came and she swallowed. That was amazing to me too, because my come was a body product that I tended to think of negatively.

If there wasn’t a girl, and usually there wasn’t, then I’d splat it into tissue paper, and then flush it down the toilet. So it can’t be good.

This was the first time a girl had swallowed my come, taken it into herself, and it was the first time it occurred to me that my come is a sort of essence of me, and if the girl is fond of me then she may like my come, too.

Anyway, that was at the end of Great Gig in the Sky. We got off the floor and onto my bed, where I took my clothes off and then Barbs’s. And we breathed each other’s breath, except when I was kissing her tits, and eventually I said, “That was… amazing. But you didn’t sound at all like Clare Torry.”

Barbs frowned. “Oh, she’s the girl – Wailing girl? Well, I was sort of fucking you, but you weren’t fucking me. You want those noises, you need to fuck me.” 

So I put on Side 1 again. And learned that at seventeen my recovery time was: Speak to me (1′ 07″), Breathe in the air (2′ 50″), plus about a minute into “On the Run”.

But I managed to not come until she had, during “Great Gig”, and I can report that she told the truth. 

“Knowledge is good.”

 

 

Wicked Wednesday: The shoplifter’s mother clamped

Maddie knelt and applied the clamp to Claire’s left nipple, then put the other clip to her right.

A fine gold chain connected the two. Maddie tugged lightly on the chain, causing Claire to open her mouth further and let me push deeper. Claire made a noise around my cock. It can’t be transcribed, but it meant pleasure.

Something dark and powerful was stirring deep within her. Her lips closed on the base of my cock. I let her hear my pleasure.

Maddie stepped back. “Anything else, sir?”

I said, “Yes, Maddie, bring me the strap. Claire, if you let my cock slip out of my mouth before I come, I’m going to wallop your ass till my arm is tired. Understood?” She said nothing, but her head bobbed: assent.

I took the strap from Maddie, and let it trail down Claire’s back, as a warning and incentive.

“May I watch, sir?”

“Claire, do you mind if Maddie watches you suck my cock?”

Claire made another vocal noise, partly muffled by my cock, but I don’t think it had words in it anyway. It wasn’t indignation. It was sex. The idea of being watched pleased her very much.

I raised the strap and brought it down, not fast, so that the end of the strap wrapped under her right buttock and slapped her smartly but not too painfully.

Claire closed her eyes and sucked harder. I swung the strap again, a little faster, so its smack on the underside of her left buttock was harder. Her eyes shut tighter.

I could see pain in her face. “Keep your eyes open, Claire. Look up into mine.”

Guido Reni’s Magdalene practicing her fellatio face

She obeyed, her eyes helpless, pleading, pious, like a saint in a Guido Reni painting. I smiled down at her. “Good girl, Claire. You’re a little rusty, I know, but you get top marks for enthusiasm.” She made an acknowledging noise, in her throat.

I began to pump her, thrusting slowly into her mouth, taking it slowly so she could adjust to my rhythm. She choked once, as I thrust deeper, but a woman who asks you to cane her presumably won’t mind that.

I put my free hand in her hair, and pulled lightly. Not to hurt, just to let her know I was taking control. I thrust harder and faster, and she gamely followed me, keeping my pace.

Wicked Wednesday: Clamping down

Claire shook her head, panicked, mouth still full of hard male essence. I said, “Maddie has heard you get the strap. She knows you’re going to get the cane soon. She’s knows that afterward I’m going to fuck you with all my heart and soul, not to mention my cock. So is it a problem if Maddie knows you suck my cock?”

Claire was still, digesting this. After a few moments her head moved again, from side to side, my cock still firmly in place. No, it didn’t matter. I put my hand on her head. “Continue, Claire. Or I’ll strap your hands some more. You can get the strap while you suck cock, you know.”

There was a pause, probably as long as three seconds, though it felt longer. Then Claire took me deeper in her mouth, sucking hard. Her blush had spread to her breasts and shoulders. She’d accepted that sometimes she sucked cock in front of an audience. Maddie said, “Sir?”

“Nipple clamps. Fetch. Claire needs them.”

The nipple clamps were Maddie’s. They weren’t for use on schoolgirls. Or boys, I supposed. She went, leaving the door open, and fetched them from her drawer. “Sir.”

“Don’t stop sucking, Claire, if you know what’s good for you. And Maddie, Both Claire and I have our hands full just now. You can put the clamps on Claire’s nipples.”

There was a small dissenting sound, and a shake of her head from Claire. I put my hand on the back of her head.

“Claire, you know you can stop this at any time. But if you don’t want to stop, then you’re going to be wearing little clips on your nipples until I’ve come in your mouth. I noticed your reaction when I squeezed your nipples before.”

Claire said, “Ummmm, bbdddd…” A little line of drool escaped from the left side of her mouth. Then she moved forward, taking the whole of my cock into her mouth and throat.

 

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 36

I said, “Yes, sir.” I had to put my hand on the floor to steady myself. But I stood in front of him, my eyes at his chest. He was so close to me, and I wanted to hold him. But I waited for orders. He smiled at me. “You’re such a very good girl. You know you have to come back here after school.” 

 

But I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 35

I stayed on my knees [Maddie said], suckling the headmaster’s cock as it softened in my mouth. His hand in my hair no longer gripped me quite so tight. He’d meant it to hurt while I pulled my head forward to take all of him into my mouth. Now it was a caress. Eventually it was soft. It still felt huge in my mouth. I kissed it one more time, as he finally withdrew. I knelt before him still, not knowing quite what to do.

 

I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 34

I kissed the tip of his cock [Maddie said], and it suddenly bounced up like a live thing that I’d disturbed. He made no sound, but he was shaking just a little, just like I was. I kissed that tip again, letting my lips enfold it. He gasped. So I was doing it right. What surprised me was the softness. I mean it was hard, but the skin was soft, like it had peach fuzz or something. It doesn’t, but that was how it felt. I kissed it, and then opened my mouth to take him in a little more. So he couldn’t go flicking up out of my … reach.

 

I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here

 

 

Wicked Wednesday 240: Juniper’s Adventures 13

Maddie had asked me if she could suck my cock. It was true that she enjoyed giving head, and under some circumstances she could come from it. More or less. She could come if she could find something she could press her pussy against, like her ankle, in some positions, or my leg. Still, she certainly enjoyed it, and was rightly proud of her skill. 

 

I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here

 

Frisky business among the Venetian searchlights: Food for Thought Friday

f4tf_button2The Food for Thought Friday people have asked: 

Where is the riskiest/most adventurous place that you have had sex?

Did you get caught?

 

My answer:

Richard Wagner died in his rooms at a palazzo on the Grand Canal in Venice. The locals, naturally, turned this great historical building, rich in artistic associations, into a casino. 

Wagner's old digs. At night

Wagner’s old digs at night. See the dark area on the second floor, towards the left? We were there

A few years ago I went to the Casino de Venezia with Niamh, a girl I’d met in Dublin. Gambling bores me, and she said she didn’t care about casinos one way or the other. But I wanted to have a look at Wagner’s old rooms, and she came along because we were sharing a bed so we might as well share this too. Also, I’d promised and demonstrated that if she didn’t do as she was told I’d smack her arse. So there was that. She was fond of the hairbrush, in particular.

I guess I should admit that I’d answered her ad on Fetlife, once I realised I was going to be in Ireland for a while, so even before we’d met we’d both established that Niamh was a girl who liked doing as she was told. And getting a smacked arse. Anyway, there we both were. Niamh still wore that afternoon’s wonderful summer dress, the top of which was held up mainly by her breasts. I wasn’t so glamorous, since I was in jeans, but at least I had on decent shoes and a jacket. 

Once we were in the top floor I asked a few casino staff where the Wagner rooms were. They didn’t know. They’d never heard of Wagner. If I wanted an explanation of anything you could do with dice and some cards – in public, at least – then they’d be happy to help, but this Wagner fellow … They’d shrug and hold their hands open and empty.

I got annoyed with this, so when I found a closed door I opened it, and when I found a closed curtain I drew it. When I found the back stairs we went down them to the mezzanine floor where Wagner had lived. And died. It turned out that someone had made a Wagner Museum out of Wagner’s old rooms. It was closed of course. Well, it was closed in the sense that it was dark and there was no-one there. But I turned the door handle, and it opened.  

I wondered about security alarms, and decided that I could probably bullshit my way out of trouble if an alarm went off, and I held the door open for her. Then I followed, and after a minute it was clear that if there was an alarm someone had forgotten to switch it on. Italy’s cool like that. 

I moved through the exhibits, feeling a certain mix of excitement and disappointment. Excitement because we’re here, where Wagner lived! And this is his stuff! And disappointment because I’d hoped for some sense of communion and connection. But there wasn’t. There’s his piano, but he’s dead. He’s not here. 

Wagner's Rhinemaidens. They may kill you but it's worth it. Drawing: Arthur Packham (detail)

Wagner’s Rhinemaidens. They may kill you but it’s worth it. Drawing: Arthur Rackham (detail)

But there was a certain kind of homage to the great man when Niamh came back from her exploration. I kissed her, and then pushed her dress down to her waist, so her breasts were bare.

Like a Rhinemaiden’s. Like a Flower Maiden. Then I put light pressure on her shoulders and she sank to her knees, unzipped me and took out my cock. She licked, then kissed my glans, then opened her mouth a little wider. Oddly, it was me who said, “Ahhh.”

So I was standing there, my cock deep in the mouth of a bare-breasted Irish girl, when I heard something. A security guard had walked onto the mezzanine floor. He’d seen us. I put my hands on Niamh’s shoulders and squeezed, to let her feel how pleased I was with her, though my cock was already conveying that information, and to obscure her peripheral vision.

Then I looked at the security guard and shrugged the apologetic Italian shrug. Niamh was still sucking me, oblivious. He considered for a second or two: is a couple having oral sex in the museum likely to steal things? Or are they innocents pursuing innocent and harmless pleasures? He didn’t smile, but he lit a cigarette (yes, I know; it’s an old building) and wandered back to the stairs. 

overthewallLater I pulled out of Niamh’s mouth and took her by the hand. I opened the window out onto the Grand Canal. There was a ledge with a stone barrier. There were also lights lighting up the front of the casino, but they left pools of darkness at the sides of each projector. So that’s where I bent her over, smacked her pretty little ass, and took a condom from my wallet and put it on my cock. And put my cock in her. 

You’d think that was the riskier situation, but it wasn’t. Our view was fantastic, lights and gondolas and vaporetti, and the throng of people, and so was the softness of her cunt and my hardness sliding slowly together, and the gritty stone under her breasts, uncomfortable in the good way, and our urgency slowly building.

It’s a good place to fuck. Venice is a city for lovers, because without us there wouldn’t be the money to pay to preserve all those drowned streets and buildings. So there aren’t many people in Venice, I don’t think, who don’t like the sight of bare breasts joggling while their owner gets pumped from behind.

But they missed out. Even when Niamh and I came, fairly close together, and not completely succeeding in suppressing orgasm noises (we sounded like donkeys coughing), not a soul noticed us. 

Mouth to mouth 12: “Ropes? There are ropes on this bed?”

I didn’t know what woke me. Not at first. Qing slept beside me, her tiny body coiled, with her head half under her pillow and her little ass pushed back at me for her comfort and mine. A cord I’d noticed before we slept, one of the four tied to the bedends, lay on the sheet near her mouth, wet with her drool. Another comforter, I supposed. When she slept alone.

sleeperI lay on my side behind her, my arm over her shoulder resting on the swelling of her left breast. In the times I was awake and hard, I’d enjoyed its insistent arousal in my palm.

Through the night I’d listened to her sleeping breathing, with my cock sometimes hard in the warm, comfortable gap between the top of her thighs. 

Sometimes I’d soften and drift towards sleep, but whenever she moved I’d wake up  and my cock would straighten, wanting her.

(That gap at the top of the thighs: it’s the sub-pudendal inter-gracile fossa. The name for that part of the body is my contribution to medical science. It may be useless – I mean my contribution – but it‘s sexy.)

But I must have slept for few hours, eventually, because some time after four in the morning I woke up. Qing had reached back to hold and enclose my cock in her right hand. I could feel my heart-beat, held inside that little cage of fingers.

There were no curtains on her window, and outside I could see light in the gaps between the trees. There’d be birdsong soon. But in her room it was still dark and quiet. I watched her shoulder rise and fall with her breathing. Qing must have sensed that I’d woken up, because although she didn’t move at first, she made a satisfied, happy noise, and stroked the underside of my cock with her thumb.

I sucked in a breath, intending her to hear and understand that I was awake, and that it was okay for her to know it. I wanted her to feel certain that I was pleased to find myself in her bed, and to find her wanton again. Qing ran her thumb up and down the underside of my cock, still holding me lightly with her fingers, until the sensation was almost unbearable. Whenever she touched me my cock jumped like a salmon climbing a rapid.

She turned over at last, and kissed my belly. I said, “ahh..” But she moved lower, down the bed. 

qing and my cockI suspected that I should stop her. Or I kind of did. I was sure I’d come far too soon if she sucked me. And while coming in Qing’s mouth wasn’t the worst thing I could think of, I’d prefer to delay a bit longer. 

But she took the head of my cock in her mouth, and I no longer had the willpower to tell her to stop. I let her please me. If she’d been mine and submissive I’d have trained her a little more: teaching her how to suck as hard as I want without getting her teeth in the way, and I’d have wanted to make my points with the help of a rope’s end.

Still, I don’t think it’s possible for a man not to be pleased with a woman with her mouth full with his cock.

But I remembered that rope’s end, the cords that had been in her mouth while she slept. I found that they stretched as far as the cleft between her buttocks, and I gave her a series of light strokes across the near half of her ass, to encourage her.

qing's smacked bumQing frowned. I doubted that she’d ever been whipped before. But the strokes were light-ish – the way she’d soaked the end with her drool helped to make it land across her skin a little harder – and they helped her with rhythm.

I hoped she also felt the strokes were interestingly, enjoyably perverse. She seemed to be happy, so I kept her whipping going. Then I made the strokes harder, and Qing came up for air. She was hesitant about speaking. She was trying to remember something. 

“You’d asked me about these, when I was drifting off, didn’t you?”

The phrasing told me what was missing. “Jaime. I’m Jaime,” I said. And to show off, I added, “And you’re Qing.”

“Jaime, sorry. Anyway, you’re only more or less righ’ with my name. You don’t qui’e get the ‘chj’ sound. So: Jaime.”

“C’est moi. Anyway, I thought this” – I whacked her ass again with the cords – “was interesting. Not every girl has ropes tied onto her bedends?” 

“Well, not every boy pays any attention to them. You’re the first, actually. An’ … I didn’t put them there. I just – what’s the word? – inhabited? No, inherent?” 

“Inherited?”

“Ah-yuh. I inherited the bed when I took the room. And the ropes were already there. I just never took them off. It was too hard.” 

qingI had a little pile of things I’d taken from my pockets when I’d undressed: the condoms, but also my phone, keys, some cash and my Swiss Army knife. I held up the knife, with all blades closed. “Really? You couldn’t get them off, and that’s why they’re still here? It’s very easy to fix that. I can cut them off right now if you like.” 

“No! It’s ok!” She was trying to sound casual. She didn’t remotely succeed. 

So I said, “Well, whether they stay or go, would you like to try them on? Now?” 

Qing dropped her head and licked my cock again. She busied herself with that project, and said nothing. 

“Qing, I can’t do anything unless you say the magic word.”

“Please?”

“Okay, magic words: say, ‘yes, please’.

“‘Yes, please’.”

“Not quite yet. First I tell you that I’ll put you on your tummy. And that I’ll tie your feet apart, and your hands together behind your back. And among other things, I’ll fuck you while you can’t move.”

“Tha’ would be your turn-on, would it?”

“I’d enjoy m’self, for sure. But the question’s what you want. Now: ‘yes, please’, or ‘no thanks’?”

“Ah… And how do -“

I don’t know what she was going to ask, but I know delaying tactics when I hear them. So I smacked her bottom with her saliva-soaked cord again. She said, “Aa-aiie!”

I smiled at her, as though I were a reasonable man. “So that’s a ‘no, thanks’?”

“No.” That sounded considered. “I mean, it’s not ‘no thanks’. It is ‘yes, please’. If you promise to remember tha’ I haven’t done this before.”

“Good girl. Very good girl.” I put my hand on the small of her back. “Now spread your legs.”