Food 4 Thought Friday: Favourite fantasy

This is my first contribution to Food for Thought Friday. This week the topic is: 

1 Do you have a sexual fantasy that you would be embarrassed or ashamed to tell anyone about?

2 Is it a complete fantasy or would you like it to actually happen in real life, if you had the chance?

3 Are you brave enough to share it here with us?


I don’t really have a favourite fantasy. I make stuff up as I go along, whether I’m domming, fucking, or just fantasising. But I’ve come back to this one twice in four years, once in a post from April 2012, and once in an email today. So at least it’s got staying power. 

1 The fantasy. 

passageI am the captain of a pirate ship, or a naval ship from the days of wood and canvas. The crew see me on the quarter-deck, smiling, stern, looking boldly into the horizon. 

But if the wooden rails weren’t there they’d see me buggering the cabin girl, Erica, who is keeping her head down. Erica, by the way, is a stowaway found and put to work; the crew think she’s the cabin boy, Eric.

Erica, poor thing, is trying to mop the quarterdeck, bent at the waist with her captain’s cock up her arse.

Because if he finds a speck of dust, he’s going to take her back to his cabin, bend her over the bed and cane her until his cock has recovered enough to bugger her again.

bugger 2That’s the worst thing about being an attractive but slightly careless stowaway. Once you’re found, the captain will want you to work your passage. Work it hard and work it flexibly. 

And there’s always a speck of dust, by the way. 

It’s quite short, by my standards, isn’t it?

2 Is it a wish, or just a fantasy?

I’d love some near equivalent to happen in real life, though I’ll have to concede that I don’t own a pirate ship, and if I did I’d find it hard to board another ship and start killing and plundering. It just doesn’t seem like nice behaviour. On the other hand, the idea of buggering a woman who continues to try to clean the floor while I butt-fuck her, and then waits fearfully for my assessment of her floor-cleaning prowess: that’s hot enough to be getting on with.

3 Are you brave enough to tell us what it is?

No, it has non-consensual or at best semi-consensual elements. I’ll never tell anyone about that fantasy.



Mouth to mouth 19: After-anal care for the not quite submissive woman

The last thing I remember for a while was finding myself half asleep and my cock softening, still semi-hard and still mostly inside Qing’s asshole. I grabbed the ends of the condom before I softened any further, and withdrew. This was not sexy. The condom went over the side of the bed.

I thought I should clean up. Including Qing’s asshole and perineum. A semi-liquid mess of faecal matter and lube had escaped from her asshole.

Frothy human waste: Rick Santorum.

Frothy human waste: Rick Santorum.

Dan Savage launched the habit of calling that mess “santorum”, after Rick Santorum, the creepy religious right politician. But that never felt right to me. It must annoy Santorum and that’s probably good, but associating him in any way with sexual pleasures, even ingloriously, seems to do the man too much honour.

Also, he’ll be forgotten soon, while faecal accidents and by-products will be with us forever. We humans are part of the biological world, even the beautiful and golden Qing.

Anyway, that faecal mess doesn’t happen with most anal sex, and even when it does it’s a perfectly natural by-product of a vigorous anal fuck, and not a sign of damage. But I was mostly responsible for the mess being there, so it was my responsibility to get rid of it.

Also, I’d learnt by then that girls sometimes found the sight a little challenging, and that if I cleaned up quickly with a damp cloth or a handful of tissues, without their being shamed or embarrassed about it, then life and post-fuck calm will go on. Harmoniously. 

So I thought about searching for the bathroom, which was probably on the other side of the kitchen. And then she put her hand on my waist and I fell asleep. Did I say that humans are biological creatures?

When I woke up again it was much lighter outside. Qing, fortunately, was still sleeping. I edged out of the bed silently, and took the little collection of used condoms to the bathroom. I disposed of them, washed my cock thoroughly, and collected a bunch of paper towels. 

Back to the kitchen I saw it was after nine, so I made instant noodles with strips of egg, shallots, black mushrooms and a very mild, slightly sweet soy sauce. I had to hope that Qing would like Chinese. But she, or her household, had nine different kinds of soy sauce. I figured she probably did.

I took two bowls and my tissues, two of them dampened under the tap, into her bedroom. Qing was stirring and looked up at me. “Breakfass? I’d have made you breakfass.”

“But you looked too cute to disturb.”

She smiled. “You shoul’ see my ass in a kitchen.” The smile became a laugh. “Specially you.” She chanted, “Jaime likes my aa-ass, Jaime likes my aa-ass. Wooo! You really like my ass.” 

I held out the bowl. Instead of taking it she said, “Oh! I mean, thank you. Tha’ smells haochi.” I didn’t ask. “Haochi” was clear from context. It was good, and it meant something like “yummy”.

So I put her bowl on the bed beside her head, and pushed her down onto her front. I brushed her back with one of the wet clothes, by way of  misdirection, and then opened her legs and wiped away the mess. Three dabs and a rub with a wet paper towel, then finishing with a drier sheet, was all it took. The mess had been there and it was gone. It would have been much more dramatic if she’d seen it. Qing didn’t even murmur. All was well.

I scrunched the paper towels into a ball with the unused sheets on the outside, and dropped it on my side of the bed. A second later I said, “oh. Juice.”

qing fuckmeI hopped up, flushed away the paper towels, washed my hands, and returned to the kitchen, where I’d seen some horrible, thick green juice in the fridge. I poured her a glass, and unhealthy ginger beer for myself. 

Qing was just finishing her bowl when I returned. She said, “Tha’ was grea’. Gimme some of yours, and you might get to fuck me. Again.”

I raised my eyebrows. So much for her feeling submissive. 

Mouth to mouth 18: Fucking Qing’s ass

Qing trembled under me, on her bed on her hands and knees, with most of my weight on her back and my cock half-buried in her ass. I was riding her a little higher than I had so far that night, and that seemed to come with its own symbolism attached.

This can get noisy.

This can get noisy.

The slightly higher angle, not to mention to the tightness of her ass, was a new sensation, too. In sex a small difference is a huge difference, if you’re paying attention and prepared to enjoy details.

Qing’s tight little tube held my cock firmly and softly. If it was heavenly, and it seemed so, then I was in heaven.

I knew that many submissive women don’t like anal. And there are plenty of women who enjoy being fucked up the ass but don’t care about bdsm at all. I know that, but I also know that in practice that moment of give, when a woman opens and yields up her ass to my cock, always feels like submission. At least to me.  

That’s part of what makes anal possession of a woman feel so hot and so savage, even though the dom is (or should be) taking a lot of care not to really hurt her. She’s submitted, or at least given the dom that illusion.

I suppose someone's already selling...

I suppose someone’s already selling…

Meanwhile Qing had just been screaming. It hadn’t sounded like screams of pain, and she hadn’t repeated it or asked me to stop. But in spite of what she’d said before about not fussing, I said, “Okay?”

Qing didn’t speak immediately. She was still puffing as if she’d run a mile. Maybe a sex mile, with me riding on her back. But eventually she came back to the ordinary world of bedrooms, university course work, essay deadlines and strange men with their cocks up her ass.

She still couldn’t manage to produce words, but she nodded .I smiled at her. She made the kissy face, so we were good.  

the Hello Kitty buttplug

… the Hello Kitty buttplug

To show we were still in new territory and not being wimps about it, and because I needed to, I pushed my cock further into her, revelling in every movement. Qing grunted (“oh, that’s happening”) but she seemed happy to be buggered.

At each moment I could feel her start to resist I’d stop and withdraw a little, as slowly as I could, and then thrust forward again.

Each of these movements took my cock a little further into her, and withdrew a little less. Finally my belly pressed against the silky warmth of her ass, my cock deeply and completely inside her. I wanted to tell her I was pleased with her. I said, “Hahh… Qing. Ah fuck, girl.”

That was probably about as sensible as whatever it was that she’d said, but at least I hadn’t screamed mine. Then we both forget about words and breathing, and fucked in silence, until I stopped holding her hips and dropped my hands to support my weight on the bed.

Qing fell forward onto her breasts and shoulders, arching her ass up at me. Tightly joined, she put her hands on the backs of mine and held tight. 

I’d started to speed up because Qing’s sweetly tight ass and her own arousal had taken me past the point where I could choose whether or not to come. Qing stopped suddenly, pushing herself hard but slowly against my cock, getting it as deep as possible. I could feel the contractions inside her. Then she rocked as fast as she could, making high-pitched squealing and gibbering noises until she came.

She wanted to fall forward once she’d come but I wouldn’t let her. I held her ass tight up against me and used her until I’d come too. Then we lay together, with my arm around her and my condomed cock still hard inside her. For a long time there was no reason to move or speak.

Mouth to mouth 17: My knees between hers, my hands on her hips

Qing’s asshole, now holding two of my fingers up past the first knuckle, was extremely tight. It took her a moment for her little muscled ring to yield and open for me. Still, she was very thoroughly lubed. Once my fingers were inside her, I could slip in to the second knuckle without too much difficulty.

Qing held herself tense, ass still enticingly in the air, and her face was set. She was withholding judgement but expecting this to hurt. 

'Scuse fingers.

‘Scuse fingers.

I said, “How you going? This ok?”

“Uh.” Qing shook her head. “I hadn’t expected it to be so intimate. It’s very … invasive.”

She was staring down at her pillow, focussed on her sensations and not on me, except for two of my fingers. I smiled. “Yeah. You don’t have many secrets left, from the man with his cock up your ass.”

That was nonsense too, like a lot of things I’d said that night. But it seemed that she liked feeling invaded, and that would intensify that feeling. Qing only said, “Ohh.” And she left her mouth open after she’d said it. 

I squeezed more lube into my hand, coating my fingers and inserting more into her ass. Then I slowly fucked her with my fingers, letting her imagine how my cock would be, once I was demandingly inside her. The reality of the fingers, and the proximity of my cock, seemed to be good, sensual things, and Qing’s noises were soft and appreciative. 

But eventually I withdrew my fingers. Qing seemed to mind their absence.

I condomed up, coating the condom liberally, especially around the head of my cock. “You can tell me to stop and pull out any time. Or to slow down.”

Qing quirked her mouth. My solicitousness didn’t fit the experience she was having. She was enjoying being brutally fucked. By a brutal fucker. She said, “I know that. And I’m fine. Don’t fuss.” 

Not so long ago she’d been warning me that this was her first time. It seemed she’d decided she could handle this without any more warnings. I smacked her upper thigh, hard, and she settled back, her arse up and presented. I took my place kneeling between her knees, my hands on her hips, and my cock nosing urgently against that lube-slicked little star. A dark star.

Qing yielded new territory, for both of us.

Qing’s asshole was new territory for me; being butt-fucked at all was new territory for her. She had yielded up new territory for the both of us.

On my first push, the head of my cock followed the wettest and easiest path, and entered just inside her cunt. I felt stupid, especially when I managed the same on my second thrust. But Qing mewed pleasurably; it wasn’t wrong from her point of view.

I lined my cock up against her asshole with my hand, and kept my cock steady while I pushed against her. After a couple of second’s of resistance, there was that sudden, dramatic opening, as Qing’s rectal muscles yielded, and I was inside her. Just the head of my cock at this stage, being held by a tight and reactive little ring.

I said, “Ahh, fuck, ohhh. Good, little one.” I couldn’t think of anything more elegant.  My blood, my lust and my brain were engaged elsewhere.

But neither of us ever heard me say that, because when my cock had taken its first entrance of her I slowly thrust a little further forward to make sure I couldn’t slip out by accident.

As I moved a little deeper inside her and her ring tightened on the shaft of my cock, she screamed out, “AHHHHH. YAH! YALLLLLLLT!”

I didn’t ask her about that till later. But apparently it doesn’t mean anything in any Chinese language either.

Sweet dreams #2: Everything is a damn metaphor

Holy Crowley!

Holy Crowley!

Aleistair Crowley has been largely forgotten (internet fame not being quite the same thing as fame). He was a supposed black magician in the early twentieth century, who the newspapers called “the wickedest man in the world”. He did his best to play up to the reputation. 

Crowley was essentially an amusing charlatan, who harmed a few people more by carelessness rather than malice, and perhaps made up for that by showing some people an exciting time while entertaining millions more.  

One of the interesting things about him was his version of bdsm. When he was domming men, he’d give his male submissives a good thrashing to help them find the properly submissive state of mind. Since his male lovers had gone to English public schools they’d already been well trained for him: presenting themselves for their floggings and holding position for the master. They’d have been right at home. Crowley even used the titles (Magister, Dominus, Meister, Master) their flogging teachers would have used.

What strikes me as odd is that after the thrashing Crowley would present himself and order his submissives to bugger him.

It reminds me how conventional I am, really. If I let a submissive hitch on a strap-on, since people who have real penes aren’t part of my sex life, and shove it up my bum, I’d assume that while I was being anally penetrated I’d be doing something submissive.

That wouldn’t be a reason for not doing it. People should do what they want, with consent, and not worry what other people think, or what category it seems to fit into. I’m not going to worry about doing something I feel like doing because someone could read it as submissive. I’m only saying that’s the meaning I ascribe to anal sex: the penetrating partner seems to be dominant, and the ass-fucked partner seems more submissive.

Disclosure: I did once let a girl try to get a dildo up my bum, because being buggered by a girl seemed amusingly complicated, symbolically. But in practice it just hurt: there was nothing good about the feeling at all. Gay friends tell me it’s great, and I should give it another go. But I gave it a fair try, and it’s not for me. I pulled the plug, as it were, and I haven’t repeated the experiment. Well, there’s no law that says everybody has to like everything. I’m glad that women, and especially submissive women, mostly like different things than me.

But when Crowley had his submissive’s cock up his arse, he presumably felt that he was in charge. Perhaps he shouted commands: “Faster, you fool. Now slower. Don’t you dare come.” That sort of thing. 

When I bugger a woman, I feel and she feels that she’s being submissive, and that I’m in charge, riding and ruling her. Anal sex can be wonderfully, beautifully deep. I mean emotionally deep: the depth of the woman’s submission and surrender. It seems to be spmething very intense, between a dominant and a submissive. I like taking that surrender.

Still, in bdsm it seems that any meaning can be ascribed to any action. It’s the ascribed meaning that matters, not the action itself. 

I’m still in Glasgow. I turned out 80 pages yesterday, and I’ve got a concentration headache. I’m still working. 

Yikes #4: Pretending not to care about pleasure

Paddled ass: the other partner in a love-hate relationship

A well-paddled ass: the other partner in the love-hate relationship between submissive and implement. An especially intense relationship when the implement is the paddle.

So this story hovers around a woman, somewhat ludicrously called tintanabula, with her feet and wrists cuffed to a wooden whipping frame, naked in the night air, her ass presented but her head, hands and feet close to the long grass.

She sobbed, unrestrained. Her body wasn’t. Unrestrained. Her buttocks and upper thighs were bright red, with patches of a darker, richer red which would develop into black and blue bruising in only a few more minutes.

tumblr_m6yonvLL7T1rai72mo1_500The paddle lay on the grass beside her, and the penis of the man who had hurt her – that’s me – was hard. I’d loved her tears and cries. She still whimpered as I pushed in and slowly withdrew in her rectum, I held her hips to keep her still and presented. I wanted her to feel, even if it wasn’t entirely true, that I had no regard at all for her pleasure. She was being buggered while her ass still burned with pain. She should get the full benefit of that.

She knew it’d never be quite true, but she loved feeling that I didn’t care about her pleasure. 

I don’t think she enjoyed being buggered just then. Two dozen isn’t a lot of strokes, but it is if you use the paddle. It was one of the most severe punishments I’ve ever given. It simply hurt, and afterwards I hadn’t been gentle.

But it was what tintanabula said was the hottest, the most rawly sexual night she’d ever experienced. Afterwards I’d wrapped her in a gown and taken her to a bed with cool, crisp sheets, and while I laid her down and fucked her I whispered in her ear that I’d paddle and bugger her again soon, but even harder, and possibly with an audience next time. She’d come harder and more often, that night, than ever before in her life.