THE CONSUMATE SLUT

It’s puzzling that I had never previously understood the height, the breadth, the sheer scope of my lover B’s sexual and emotional ambitions. I have always known that she wanted to please me - and believe me, there is no limit to how pleasing she wants to be. And I’ve always known she wanted to be the best – the best I’ve ever had and the best I will ever have. And yet, I hadn’t previously understood that she wanted to actually be the sexiest bitch in the whole wide world. Phew! Well, you wouldn’t know that, would you? - not if someone is, to all intents and purposes, a model mother, partner, colleague, friend, sister, daughter, and so on – you wouldn’t know that, inside of someone’s head, they’re at the Chateau de Roissy, learning total submission to men. Yes, it’s true that, together with these more public roles, she’s always been an endearing and sexy mistress to me on the sly. And okay, she’s always liked me to show who’s boss, in a playful sort of way, right from the start of our relationship. It’s quite a recent change to call me ‘Sir’ - though only in private, and only when very very excited. This, though, is qualitatively different – this is about performance, this is about a quest for personal fulfilment, this is about wanting the power and the glory – this is a woman who wants to become the consummate slut. I wonder if even she had realised how ambitious she was, previously:

So, yes, I'm doing everything I do to please you. But, yes, I admit, within that remit, what I will always want to do is to tease, please, win over and make my own, every man or woman we play with. You ask whether it’s my overwhelming desire, my instinctive reflex - with every single man I encounter sexually - to offer them whatever they want? Whatever they would most like to have? Whatever they would most like to do with me? Whatever is most exciting to them? Yes. Yes, that sounds like a reasonable view to me. I know it's deeply slutty but I can't help it, Baby.

You’re absolutely right - what motivates ME is not extra cock or pussy - it's being worked hard at being pleasing. Pleasing you. And pleasing someone in front of you - showing him (and you) that I'm (trying to be) the most pleasing woman in the universe. Sorry...?

Do I really want to be the ultimate, the consummate slut? Well, yes, I suppose I do…..
You’re right – though I hadn’t realised it before. No, it is not enough for me to act the slut. I want to be seen by you too. OK, that's true. Yes, I want you to watch me being a slut - for you! Of COURSE I want you to see I am the best with anyone.

See what I mean? As a result of this discovery, I have had to step up my input in a big way; because I feel she wants me to assist her with this very ambitious project.

It’s a dirty job, but hey, someone has to etcetera, so I do what I can to help. This week, we concentrated on oral skills. Not so much how to suck cock, or have your pussy licked; because she’s pretty damned hot in these departments already. More a question of how to be the best, how to get it right with a new playmate, how to do these things in a situation with more than one sexual partner; that sort of thing. Most important of all (and definitely most important to her), is the question of how to look good in front of someone else - whether your lover, a third party, or that implied other which every mirror represents – and to look good as a sexual object, to make yourself into an erotic spectacle, while receiving or giving oral.

So first, she practised asking – very sweetly – if she could please suck my cock? Not would I like my cock sucked; but rather, would I allow her to do so, would I please permit it, because she would like to – and, in the case of another man, because she would like to do so in front of me, for me. And would I please tell her how I would like it sucked? Could she lick it first? – because she would like that. And please, please could I spunk on her face or her tits when she makes me come – because she wants that, she wants to see and feel and taste the spunk - and she wants her lover to see that, to see her enjoying it.

Apart from anything else, such pleas and prompts should ensure wood on another male – no one wants to try to suck a cock as spectacle, if that cock is anything but rock hard. But what if her sex partner still wasn’t rigid enough? I pushed her. Time to practice more moves…. I get her to pull down the bra part of the ludicrously filthy outfit she’s wearing and run her nipples up my abdomen and chest, while stroking my cock through my jeans. Ok! She turns, bends forwards from the waist, pushing her arse back into my groin, and grinds it round and round. Good move, better. She turns and rolls up my tee-shirt up, licks my abdomen, bites my nipples gently. And when her mouth reaches my neck, she asks if she could now please unfasten my jeans. Very good! Lessons are easy when you’ve got a star pupil. I let her. Her mouth travels down again, she gets onto her knees, and with flawless expertise, unbuckles and undoes the jeans. She cradles my cock in her cleavage – a nice touch – lubes it up, and sets to work with her tongue.

There’s just so much work to do! There always is – that must be why it’s called a blow job – but especially so when you need it to be as dirty as possible and as visually affecting as possible. She licks my balls, tongues and kisses and bites my groin and perineum and lower abdomen, and it feels fantastic. I get her to kneel prettily – arse out, back concave, tits out, head back to take in the full length of my cock. She knows to wrap a hand around the base; holding it hard and steady, but also ensuring that when her mouth is covering the top half, it feels completely enclosed. But I have to point out that she mustn’t get too close; so that a viewer can watch as much of the shaft as possible slowly disappearing into her mouth and sliding out again.

And then there’s looking……. There’s a scene in Paltrow senior’s film Duets, where Maria Bello’s star-struck waitress, who’ll do anything to reach the karaoke finals she’s sure will break her into the big-time, makes a car paint-shop proprietor an offer he can’t refuse, in a bid to disguise the stolen car in which she’s travelling. When he quotes her the price for the respray, she doesn’t haggle or agonise, or even miss a beat; promptly responding, with a big open smile, “I’m afraid we don’t have that sort of money at this time - but I’d personally consider it an honour and a privilege to suck your cock for you, Sir.” (Or words to that effect – Drew’s Scriptorama let me down on this occasion). Cut to the car emerging from the paint shop, in its new hot pink livery. What I’ve been teaching B to do this week – strictly at her instigation and request, I emphasise – is to look at the recipient of her attentions, as if it is an honour and a privilege to suck their cock (Sir).

And that’s only the start of the additional skills she’s going to have to hone, if she really means it about being the best, about the whole super-slut business. She also has to try to look at me while giving or receiving oral to or from other parties, for example – no easy requirement, though mirrors help. She has to meet my gaze - partly to seek and confirm my continued approval, and partly to receive directions. Most importantly, she needs to do this because I am orchestrating her pleasure – the immense sexual excitement she experiences in and from such acts is also a spectacle enacted at my behest and for my enjoyment.

Luckily – though luck, of course, has nothing to do with it – the room we’re currently using has four giant, eight foot by four foot mirrors in each corner, slanting towards the floorspace and bed in the centre. So everything she does is a spectacle, everything is watched, everything is approved.

Thank you for all the mirrors. I can't tell you what a difference that makes. It works for me (like many women) in a number of ways. But mainly:

a) I want to look good. If I can check that I do then that's one less worry plus one massive confidence boost/turn-on both at the same time. Because all women learn to see themselves in the mirror in two ways: 1. The critical appraisal required for grooming and reality checks. 2. The generous approval of an interested third party.

b) I am able to actually see myself as just a woman. Just a woman interested in pleasure. Just a woman who wants to pleasure herself and please others, to take and give pleasure to her lover. By being conscious of myself in this way, I actually lose my self-consciousness - if you see what I mean...

Even so, it doesn’t always work out:

But I was disappointed that I couldn't see anything when I was sitting on your face...

Although it may seem as though all this mirror business objectifies B, trapping her as mere sexual object before an all-seeing male gaze, I’m not sure this is right. You might equally say that what B gets from the mirrors, is the vision of her own enjoyment; an entirely female pleasure, liberated from the phallic order, from the Other of law and social convention. What the mirrors are obliged to witness is her multiple transgression of such conventions: perverse acts, with someone else's partner, in front of her lover, or with two sexual partners at once. While she enjoys performing my uncompromising demands, the implied other in the mirror (daddy, husband, society) is forced to be passive and complicit; imagined by her to approve her self-indulgently bad behaviour.

For the sake of that passive third party, she has to take oral, as well as give it, in a manner which is visually pleasing and spectacular. I mean, as well as exciting for her, of course; but then, what has gone before should have made it clear that if she feels she looks good doing it, it will be exciting for her. This week I concentrated on 69 variations: partly because straddling a man’s face or chest; or taking up a position on all fours above him, is going to look and feel hotter for her, than being supine with someone’s head buried between her thighs; partly because they’re more active positions, giving her control of her pleasure. Of course she came a few times during these exercises – learning needs to be stimulating and fun – but I also think she came to see the other’s mouth, not as something to be accepted and so vulnerable to their skills or lack of them:

I never cared for pussy-licking before you. It was too difficult for anyone to get right, and they all made the same mistakes, and all went on, so terribly earnestly, for so long it was both mind and clit-numbing...

but rather as something she could actively use, like a cock, to obtain her own pleasure:

I will be forever grateful that you have allowed me to enjoy this, to relish it. Once upon a time, I never even thought any man could bring me to orgasm, licking and sucking me. I have had to accept how hot it is to have a proficient pussy-licker (aka you) getting into their stride and taking me along for the ride. And now you’ve also shown me just how I want it done for me, how to get it done for me, how to take it. And I want you to show me how to demand it – though of course I want you to use everything you know to withhold and tease me as well as pleasure me.

I know, I know – some readers may be thinking all this is a bit odd – it’s all gone rather too BDSM for your taste. But you couldn’t be more wrong about that. B loves vanilla sex – hot and sweet and one-on-one. I don’t have to make any show of forcing her to do anything; I only need to ask. And if I get it wrong, she's a tergament. She has no desire whatsoever to be part of any scene – fetish, or otherwise – or have anything which might be referred to as a ‘lifestyle’ (other than the sort on offer in Heal’s catalogues). She’s not going to be told what to do at home, like these domestic discipline people. There’s no dom/sub role-play, we’re not going to any specialist clubs. She has no interest in piercings or tattoos, let alone in any of the accoutrements and accessories of BDSM practices. She ddoesn’t call me ‘Master’ or consider herself my property, or any such nonsense. She wants to behave like any ordinary, assertive, confident, middle-class, professional woman who happens to have a lover. As her lover, I can be as firm and demanding as I like; but more than anything, she just wants to be loved, romantically; to be my baby, my darling, like any other girl. If it was otherwise, I wouldn’t have only discovered so recently that she wants to be the hottest slut in Christendom, now would I? No, B’s submissiveness is merely part of her take on feminity; a disposition as natural to her as breathing; but really only evident in her most intimate relations with men.

Perhaps the feistier females among you may have been bristling at the idea that she needs me to orchestrate her pleasure. Why should she? Dunno – but back off; because it’s what she wants. I suppose the answer is that because of her version of femininity, her need and her desiring are infinite. She wants me as the male both to try – and try very hard – to meet that need, limitless as it is. But also, as if she herself recognises that this is impossible, that it simply cannot ever be satisfied – she wants the male in me, at the same time, to set boundaries, to limit and constrain her desire. And not for some sadistic thrill on my side, but from an astute innate awareness, on hers, that limitless need and desire are potentially annihilating. (In The Story of O, O’s pursuit of fulfilment through her sexuality is a path leading to the obliteration of her will, individuality and personality - as Sontag points out, ‘O’ stands both for her sex and for absolute zero, nothing *). B has always sensed the risks of surrendering her will to her desire:

If we were younger/ had no other commitments I could be dangerously submissive to you. So it's always been hard for me when you have questioned me about sex with other people - because I think, how does he not know that he's the boss and I don't want any say in this.

And yes – there it is, so perfectly set out in her second sentence – unlimited desire (she will have sex as and how, and with whosoever, I see fit), but within boundaries set by me (I’m the boss, she has no say in this). Both trying to meet or indulge B’s desire and setting boundaries for it are intensely pleasurable to her. Perhaps they’re inseparably bound-up for her now – so that it isn’t even necessary to accede to her desire – merely constraining it at one and the same time, pleasurably evokes it in her, indulges it and sets a limit within which it can be enjoyed without becoming too overwhelming:

Please tether me as soon as you possibly can. I feel desperate. And I love it.

In the same way, even being denied or unsatisfied is satisfyingly pleasurable:

I love the idea of being fucked and deposited at home in a state of dishevelled excitement though I agree, hard to carry out without a) turning him on - eeeeek. Or b) turning me in. I get a similar thrill - though you don't understand it - from being denied satisfaction, and sent home in a state of silent, frenzied excitement.

In psychoanalytic terms, this is her jouissance, is it not? – that is, the enjoyment of her symptom: an enjoyment beyond mere enjoyment; intensely pleasurable to the point of pain. (**) Clever and resourceful girl that she is, she has found a way (and a helpmate in me), to enact her most powerful drives and compulsions – to her intense satisfaction – yet all within the safety of an entirely hidden relationship.

(*) Sontag, Susan. The Pornographic Imagination, in Styles of Radical Will, Secker, Ldn, 1969.

(**) http://nosubject.com/Jouissance http://www.iep.utm.edu/l/lacweb.htm

A BABE IN TOYLAND

I’d hate to say I got into a routine with B this summer; but we were definitely in a groove, on a particular wavelength – and it’s been a very hot place to find oneself. I arrive at the hotel a little earlier than her, since she always has trouble getting children to bed, etcetera, before she gets out; though I would, of course, do so anyway. And I decide on how she’ll be dressed for our evening’s activities:
“Have you got something nice for me to wear?” she’ll coo, over the phone, if we get to talk earlier in the day.
“I have, but you’ll have to wait and see what it is,” I invariably tease.

She can’t keep much at home, obviously, so I have most of her kit (to which I occasionally add a new piece), and I lay out her outfit for when she arrives: there’ll often be stockings, heels, a basque or one-poece body, or maybe a bra and thong set, perhaps gloves or a mask. Choosing it – thinking about what she’ll wear and how it may suit what I have planned for her – gives me an anticipatory frisson. And however distracted or stressed her mood may be as a result of her working day, or her difficult escape from home, re-adjusting her make-up and getting kitted out for sex always soothes and relaxes her and turns her on. She sloughs off her roles as colleague or partner or mother and becomes the sex Barbie of her fantasies and my desires. So that when she emerges from the bathroom in her finery, graceful and gaudy as a new mayfly, she’s become a purely sexual being; one whose only purpose is to give pleasure and be pleasured, to desire and be desired. It has, then, become my job, my mission, to find her inner slut. (It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.)

What B expects of me then, is that I know what I want from her. She requires very clear and specific commands. Then she will gratefully and happily perform them. Whatever these demands might be, obeying and fulfilling them will, in itself, give her a lot of pleasure. Just the fact that I am demanding is itself pleasurable:

When I say you can be nasty, I fantasise about you being superior/aggressive/abusive. Not shouting, or shoving, just putting me in my place. I do find it exciting that you are such an alpha male, you know what you want, you are determined and you want things done your way. I like you being firm and nasty. Hitting or smacking me is well within what I would like so long as no bruises! Ha ha. (Her amusement is because, while carried away on our last encounter, she bit my lip until it bled).

At the same time, it’s obviously going to be even better for her if the things I demand fulfil her own secret fantasies - are the kind of sex acts she would most like to be required to perform. Once you’ve got a handle on someone else’s sexuality, once you’re familiar with all the little triggers which turn them on, it isn’t hard to extemporise and get it right for them. But I also receive plenty of tips and pointers by email: what does a control freak do when they take time out? Put herself in someone else’s hands – and then ensure that he’s been instructed as to exactly what he should to demand of her……….

I felt excited about you looking at me last time, especially while I had my hands bound. I would be excited if you told me how to stand and whether I could move - especially if I could only move if you asked me to or only to lick, suck or bite some part of you. I find it absolutely HOT not to be allowed to touch myself, especially if you slick me up with some lube so I am desperate for it……..

Or:

We all know I only have to touch your cock with my tongue and I am in ecstasy. (For a real treat you might let me do this while you still have your underwear on. I love your cock in pants. Especially if your lovely arse is naked)………….
I can’t say she wouldn’t welcome any desire I wanted to impose – since the imposition of that desire by me would be a genuine thrill for her – but all those emails and chats and feedback tend to shape my desires. So that what I seemingly demand of her on my own account is, of course, exactly what she would secretly want to do anyway.

I tend to have a rough narrative in my mind – some idea of what we’re going to get up to – simply because it’s much more difficult to be the firm and demanding lover which seems to be required if you haven’t got an agenda and are responding only to the whim of the moment. And as adulterous lovers, we don’t have time to take wrong turnings: we don’t see each other often enough, or for long enough, to indulge in trial and error: it’s got to be hot from the off. But my sense of what we’ll do is only in the form of mental bullet points; what transpires may not follow the script, as it were; it still has to adapt and respond to an urge which might take hold of us, to any one of a thousand strange alchemical reactions which may spark between us and carry us off in some new and unexpected direction.

We managed a double session last week – an afternoon and all evening (though obviously we both have to leave the hotel to go home at half-past five, as if from work, and then return in the evening, on a pretext).

As I waited in the hotel room, laying out her things in anticipation, she rang to apologise for a delay.
“Sorry! I had to go and look at new furniture with D….” (her partner), she told me. “I don’t often take a lunch-break, let alone get an afternoon off,” she explained; “so I had to multi-task and make the most of it, if you don’t mind.”
Honestly, she is naughty, isn’t she? – shopping with hubby while her lover is in a nearby hotel deciding what sort of sexy kit she’s going to be wearing for the afternoon - and planning what lascivious acts she’ll be performing in it! (I say naughty, but this is nothing – wait til you read future posts….) You could suggest she was selfish for making me wait – and cruel for dismissing him so she could go and shag someone else - but then, she aims, she lives, to please; so pleasing two men in one afternoon, in two very different ways, is something of a result for her.

That afternoon, she had to wear a short, stretchy skirt over knickers and hold-ups, with heels, and her blouse over a cute matching balconette bra. When she was ready, I made her stand still, at first: partly so that I could admire the way she looked; partly because I find that being made to stand still, when she very badly wants to touch herself or touch me, is a very effective way of building up sexual tension. I undid the blouse, slowly, and toyed a little with her: raising the skirt enough to feel the crease in her arse and the soft skin of her thigh between stocking top and knickers; teasing her nipples under the fabric of the bra; running the tip of my tongue along her upper lip; brushing the back of my hand down her lean abdomen, curling my fingers under the waistband of the skirt and pushing down until my knuckles grazed her mons. But before I could move things on, I needed to put the blindfold on her.

Forget your fancy lingerie, your aphrodisiacs and pills; forget Barry White on the stereo and turning the lights down low: a blindfold, as we all know, is THE single most erotic item lovers can use, the simplest, the most effective and the sexiest accessory of all. It’s as simple as an old scarf and as effective as a drug. At a stroke, the wearer (male or female) is stripped of individuality and will.

Although she’s occasionally worn one in the past, routinely using a blindfold or mask is a recent addition. Why? Because for B, it has another function: when she can’t see me looking at her, she loses all anxieties about how she looks, and all inhibitions about me looking at her, or about what I’m making her do:

I love the blindfold. I’m very simple. I don't worry about you looking if I can't see you. I think I’m going to enjoy wearing it quite a lot
Not only does it take away the wearer’s self-consciousness and thus banish shyness: it removes your specificity as their lover, too. The blindfold makes you, the lover, faceless: you’re just a cock, hands (how many hands? – it’s hard to tell), a mouth, or more than one mouth. And for a woman like B, who is aroused by a submissive role, by performing someone else’s demands, a blindfold also means pleasurably giving herself over, into the power of the other; entering a world only of sensation, one where she must obey instructions and guidance, or she will totter and fall in her heels; where she must be led, must allow herself to be positioned, submit to being made to stand or sit, bend or kneel.

While I toyed with her - in her dark world, reduced to sensation – toyed and teased and touched, I explained what she was going to be doing for me that afternoon. Urgent lust has its place. (In fact, we had a hilarious session, recently; when we were trying to discuss a lot of serious stuff we really did have to get through, yet couldn’t keep out hands off one another: as a result, we ended up fucking like maniacs, while still talking). Generally speaking, though, it’s good to delay and tease: it’ll get urgent enough in due course; but there’s no harm in upping the ante by telling someone first (and in no uncertain terms) what you’re going to be doing to them: thus giving them time to anticipate and speculate.

What she was going to be doing, was a bit of a performance with a dildo. I’d had an email tip-off that something of the sort was on her wish-list, anyway:

I am quite desperate for some more dildo action. It made me deliriously happy at the time,

she’d let me know, referring to a previous session:

and it continues to make me excited whenever I think about it.

I was going to add to that little store of excitement, if I possibly could! And for my own delectation, I planned to do some pussy-licking, at the same time as using a dildo on her myself.

I kissed her neck and her shoulders, as I slipped the blouse off her, and teased her nipples until they were proud of the lacy cups of the bra. My hands traced the smooth planes of her abdomen, unrolling the top of the stretchy skirt downwards, just enough to almost expose her cunt, and then, hands flat on her hips, I pressed her arse back into my groin. While she stood and waited, I took my time squeezing out lube onto my fingers. I told her to open her legs more and made her stand like that for a while, then took my time slipping under the skirt and easing her knickers down a bit, until I could gently run my slick fingers up her slit – lubed her up until she started to tilt her pelvis, moving to brush her clit against the sliding fingers. But of course at that point I stopped and left her panting. God knows, I love to touch her. She does a thing which is too hot to mention – where I tell her to stand, legs slightly open, and I hold my fingers very firm and straight, just touching her clit - then she performs a hoola-hoop action, making her pelvis go round and round in small circles on my fingers, getting more and more excited. At the same time, less is always more.

Next, I sat in the armchair to watch, while she stood in front of me, and I told her to pull up the skirt and pull her knickers down for me – but slowly. (I think it’s dirtier to have to pull your own knickers down, on someone else’s command, than to have them removed). I got them off her completely and made her straddle my legs, so that I could lick her cunt. I also gave her the dildo and told her she had to lick that before I used it on her. The skirt and knickers didn’t come down slowly enough, so she had to do it again. And I realised that I wanted her to turn and bend forwards, as she did it, with her arse stuck out. Don’t think me perverse – I assure you, nothing makes my compliant cutie happier than being corrected:

I love it when I know what you want me to do. And I am really happy when you show me how to do it better. I am in heaven if you make me keep on doing it until I get something right. This is just too exciting to write...

I knelt then and licked my way up her legs. I don’t open her up straight away with my tongue, but instead concentrate on an extended tease: running the tip of my tongue up her inner thighs, almost to her opening; kissing and nuzzling that soft place to either side of her cunt where her legs meet her belly; dragging the whole flat width of my tongue very lightly up her crease, without letting it enter; pausing promisingly over her clit before descending almost to the tight little button of her bum, and then starting over.

Once I do get my tongue into her slit, I love the way B is so eager – instead of passively being licked, she squirms on the end of my tongue, starts to move her hips backwards forwards, as if to fuck my face. It makes me want to give her more, to give her the dildo as well; so once I’ve really got her going, we swop places, with her in the chair and me kneeling between her legs.

Wearing the blindfold, she can’t see me and so she doesn’t feel self-conscious about being exposed to my gaze. I lube-up the dildo (a sort-of jelly one in a cock shape) and begin to slide that slowly between her lips, while I lick and flick her clit with my tongue. This seems to please her, judging by the blasphemies to which she begins to give voice. One of her own hands is soon under her arse and the other, the right one, has liberated both her breasts from the half-cup of the bra and is fondling them, squeezing the nipples, as she so often prompts me to do.

Inspired, I change my grip on the jelly dong, with my fingers around the bottom and my thumb along the top, curved upwards; so that the pad of my thumb is nudging her clit each time I slide its slick length into her. It’s an old seven-incher, re-commissioned because of her renewed interest in toys. Being more rigid and cock-shaped, it’s better for her to lick – though not so good as the new big one for this sort of trick, because that enables me to get a firmer grip on it, while still giving her a good six inches. This one’s working, though; it’s definitely working, as I bend to alternate fingers and tongue. Soon she’s panting and beginning to yodel, getting so excited she’s lifting her arse right off the chair, pushing herself onto the dildo. I take it in my left hand, so that I can give her a steady, slower action; while the middle finger and thumb of my right hand keeps up a quicker, lighter rhythm on her clit. This does it for her – and it does it in a noisy, tearful climax, this first time – I only hope neighbouring guests haven’t checked in yet.

(Of course, the other mental note I can’t help making while I’m giving her a bit of dildo action, is that this would make a good position for her to take a second cock. She wouldn’t have to turn her head much to enable another man, standing beside the back of the chair, to present his cock to her mouth. It’s an exciting thought I intend to discuss with her soon. Because really, once someone is wearing a blindfold and taking cock and dildos, willy-nilly, in every orifice, the question of whether to bring in someone else to give her a bit of extra, live wood at the same time as you, instead of extra prosthetic cock, ceases to be an emotional issue and becomes one of logistics and boundaries.)

Perhaps it’s on the strength of this line of thought that I inform her I want to see her suck the dildo while masturbating. So we have a little cooling off period, in which she gives my cock some welcome attention, and then I tell her to get up onto the bed on all fours. For some reason, it isn’t quite right. You’d think it would be easy enough, wouldn’t you, to flex your back into a nice, concave curve and stick out your tush, invitingly, while bending your head down to suck a synthetic cock? She muffs it, though: back arched, like a human doing the cat pose in yoga; instead of like a receptive feline queen in heat.

If she gets something wrong in this way, she has to do it again, until she’s doing it to my satisfaction. If she persists in getting it wrong, she’s ‘punished’, by a spanking; or by being ‘denied’ pleasure. Again this isn’t my idea, but I must confess I’m quite happy to oblige:

I also love you being firm and punishing. So it would be exciting for me if you punish me for getting things wrong and reward me for getting things right. You'd find me quite easy to train if we had more time.You could refuse to touch me, or perhaps not let me come, or not fuck me, or not allow me to lick your cock if I didn't do everything you needed. Though I quite like being denied and frustrated so, hmmmm, is that really a punishment...? Well I think you get the picture.
If she gets it right, she’s rewarded - with cock, toy, fingers or tongue.

You know I like you to spank me, and tell me what to do, don't I always ask? I wondered is there anything I could say when you spank me to show that I am compliant, to encourage you to treat me badly? I know you love me which gives you complete licence tobe as nasty as you like. And I don't think you understand how nasty I imagine you being. As for reward. well, let's see... cock (please), or penetration with a dildo or a vibrator. I like loving, sexy fucking as you know but you can be a lot less friendly if you want to. I like you when you are demanding. I like to imagine you already have your cock out when I come into the hotel room. It's rock-hard and lubed up. You can't really be bothered with all my chat and you just push it in my face, drag it across my face. It's pretty obvious that I'm your bitch and I can get on with it to my heart's content.

So she gets a (token) spanking. And what I especially like about the way she takes this rebuke – apart, that is, from her ‘Ohh!!’ of surprise and pleasure on receiving the first blow – is the way that she’ll turn her hips, one way and then the other – a slow, responsive wiggle - in order to receive the slaps, first on one cheek and then on the other. It isn’t always enough for her:

Do you think you could at least threaten to whip or cane me?

She’ll beg by email. But the punishment must fit the crime. I did have to whip her very soundly this week, but she had really deserved it on that occasion, because of some truly filthy behaviour. You’re just going to have to wait to hear about that.

Once more, I show her how I want her – and she gets it right this time – head down, with her nipples brushing the sheet, arse up, her back concave, on her knees with her legs slightly apart. Like this, one arm can hold the dildo, sticking up from the bed, for her to suck; the other arm can reach down between her legs, so her fingers can get busy with her clit. What I wasn’t prepared for, when ordering this little spectacle, was how affecting it would be. She loves – she adores – putting any cock-shaped object into any orifice and while her right hand works between her legs she lavishes the same attention on the dildo that she would on any real cock – tongue licking up its length, head rising and falling to take it all into her mouth.

Of course I can only watch this for so long, before wanting to replace the dildo with my own cock. It’s a hot sight and I want to keep on looking; but more than that, I need those encircling lips, that eager tongue around my own aching, straining member. I tell her that she’s got it right – she looks so good, I’m going to give her some cock. At this, she lets out a keening sound of pleasure. I kneel in front of her on the bed, take a bunch of hair in my right hand and lift her head up from the dildo. Avidly, she takes it in. The hand which held the dildo begins to wank the shaft, while her head travels backwards and forwards over the head of my cock. Her other hand rubs feverishly, wanting to make herself come again at the moment my spunk shoots down her throat........


The evening is always different again. How strange, to return to the same room, in darkness! I smooth the rumpled bed, put away discarded lingerie. I’ve a chilled bottle of wine with me and pour myself a glass, switch on some side lights. Daytime sex has a different kind of energy and I find I come more easily, quickly – and often she does, too. I put some music on (I’m planning to make some noise – and get some noise out of her, too), and I light some candles.

Once the children are in bed and her excuses to her partner have been made, B will get a taxi across town to the hotel, calling me as she approaches, so I can go down to the lobby in the lift to meet her. We’ll kiss, riding up in the lift, while a taped female voice, calm, Amercian, tells us which floor we've reached. She’ll sip some wine, shed her little jacket and the bag with her yoga kit in (yeah, yoga’s the excuse – we’ve done all the jokes); she’ll expect me to admire her (and I do, I do), waiting for the compliments, as she stands before me, or adjusts her hair and make-up in the mirror over the desk.
She doesn’t need a lot of chat, having seen me that afternoon.
"What have you got for me to wear, then?" she’ll ask, after I’ve kissed and fondled her. And I’ll show her the things laid out, ready for her arrival – a Luxxa body which is mostly black organza ribbon and elastane, with push-up half-cups, but no pretence whatsoever of actually providing even token coverage to the lower half, hold-ups with deep lacy tops, lace gloves, a diamante choker, and naughty high heels, with a pattern of sequins and cute little bows. She goes to the bathroom to change – a process of calming transformation.

While she prepared herself behind the bathroom door, I thought about how much penetrative sex we were having nowadays. Since I’d got her high on it, we were filling every hole with something at fairly regular intervals - and yet we weren’t getting anywhere – although the attempt was certainly pleasurable.

I have always known I liked cock, and getting fucked.
What I didn't know before loving you is that I really,
really like being penetrated by, well, anything
really. Anything hard and approximately cock-like at
least. I absolutely love you spanking me.
Oh, and having you fuck me with a dildo. I like to
fuck myself with whatever comes to hand as much as the
next woman but I must admit that the big pink silicone
dildo is very very exciting.

It was very, very hot having your face between my
thighs. I can't stop thinking about it. The most
exciting thing of all was being teased and only licked
now and then. When you slid the dildo in I was in
heaven.

I knew I loved fucking myself slowly with your cock while playing with myself. I knew I LOVED watching you handle your own hard cock. But then recently you made me come very hard by wanking your cock from behind me while it rubbed against me. Somehow that made me realise that I loved the feeling of something nudging into me, and staying there, as well as being fucked.

And another thing, which I can add in retrospect: on this particular night, she complained she’d had to service her partner the evening before; when she’d rather just have concentrated on an extended grooming and preening session in anticipation of our meeting. Then she complained to me the next day, too; this time that she’d had to attend to him yet again when she got home from our one-day fuck-fest – at a time when she’d rather have quietly masturbated in the bath, while re-living its highlights. Now we don’t normally go into our home sex-lives too much – it’s generally recognised that they’re mostly uninspired, and in their case, mercifully infrequent. Of course I recognise that married lovers inevitably act as fluffers for the ‘wronged’ partner back home sometimes (see my earlier post ) – but you have to ask - why two nights in a row on a weekday? One can only assume that she was giving off such an excited, sexual vibe that she’d pricked his dormant interest. And she may not even have been aware of this herself, but for all her complaints about his intrusive needs, I nevertheless detected a certain vain contentment, at finding herself the focus of unbidden, surplus male desire; as if it was self-evident that when you were a woman like her, available and acquiescent - and when you went around extra loved-up and gorgeous – then having to take cock from every direction was more or less par for the course.

In short, all things considered, try as I might, I wasn’t ensuring she was getting enough penetration. Fun though all our antics were, it seemed increasingly obvious to me that we were going to have to call in help. She wasn’t averse:

I really like having your cock and being penetrated too. I am very satisfied with a silicone cock though I would have real one for you darling if you wanted me to.

I didn’t mind – but I was convinced she’d feel so much happier if we could get a nice big cock into her from behind while she was sucking mine. And recently, I was proved right.

Nearly as tall as me now, she emerged from the bathroom on elegantly long legs, a walking wet dream.
"Well?" She asks me.
But she already knows the answer, because she’s examining herself in the full-length mirror while she poses in front of me, tilting her hips first one way and then the other, to extend her legs even further. She pretends to be appalled by the Luxxa body.
"Oh my God, it’s just so very very rude!" she observes.
But I can tell she’s very happy with her appearance; glancing at herself approvingly over the rim of her wine glass.

"How do you want me, then?" she asks; her habitual opening gambit.
I wanted her sitting on my face. I wanted her lavishing the sort of emergency resuscitation technique on my cock that I’d watched her give the dildo earlier. And then I wanted to fuck her brains out.

As I say, I’ll generally have a rough agenda in my head – just so that it touches all the bases she needs me to touch and so that B evolves naturally from A and segues smoothly into C. I may put it together from urges or fantasies of my own; but if it isn’t based on them, I’ll certainly be throwing in hints and pleas from her emails....
My agenda right now is devoted to hair-pulling, name-calling, arse-fucking, spanking and fucking myself silly with sex toys. Also being tied up (which I fantasise about now), blindfolded, and teased with cock. I have very intense feelings about your cock. I want to see it, touch it, lick it but I also like to know you are touching it when I can't see it or touch it. Especaially with a cock ring. What are you trying to do to me? That was too much. I like you looking at me when I'm dressed up so if you make sure I look good and blindfold me, you can do what you like.

I wondered if you would have an objection to me using a toy in my arse while you fucked me? If I was wearing lingerie, stockings and heels, and doing everything you asked me to. Do you think that would be OK to try?

Already revved up by the afternoon’s shenanigans, the teasing tonguing I’d had in mind soon turned into an urgent, hungry 69. She loves a face full of cock and greedily licked and sucked; while I bit the inside of her thighs, then held her arse and ate her up until she hollered:
It was so hot I can't explain last time we were together – I mean the first time you made me come in the evening, under your tongue. That's what I like...What you were doing to me... wow, it’s not like any sort of clit-licking I've ever had before you, it was more like being eaten alive. It was rough, intense and I didn't feel you were doing it to please me, it was as if you were hungrily satisfying yourself, accidentally-on-purpose satisfying me at the sametime. I particularly love 69 (oops, perhaps I should have told you before, though I think I may have?) because 1. the focus is equal so I don't have to think, and 2. I get cock in my face. Though I had actually forgotten just how mindblowing it is (for me) to have a fit body within holding and licking distance, on top of me. So it's a joke really to say that the focus is equal because I can't focus at all and couldn't give a decent blow job if my life depended on it. I found it ridiculously exciting.

Then, of course, I fucked her – on her front, on her back, sideways. Legs in the air, feet behind my back, on her knees, on her stomach, arse out over the corner of the bed. Not for as long as I’d liked to have done, though; eating her out had got me so excited, I had to come. And I had to see it. I got her to frig herself with her fingers, straddled her chest, with her tits between my legs, and for the second time that day I fucked her face, spunking over her outstretched tongue.

After we’d had a bit of a break, she gave me probably THE best floor show you’re ever going to see. No, I tell a lie – it wasn’t quite slow enough. I insisted on seeing the whole thing again when we had more time on a weekend away – THAT was the one which was the best floor show you’re ever going to see... (to be linked) This was the first time I’d actually watched her arse-fuck herself, though (I know, I know – I’m so slow – but we have a long agenda and not a lot of time). Awesome! - it absolutely blew my mind. I got so excited, I had to fuck her again – of course. Inevitably, I wanted to fuck her up the arse, given the display she’d just given me; but I’m a pretty reasonable size and anal sex takes time and relaxation, which we didn’t have at that point in the evening. So I made do with her request for a double-fucking, with a toy and my cock. I got her bum-up on the bed and her fingers were already between her legs, as I slid my greased cock up the crease in her rear and wanked it, nudging her button, a sensation she loves. I withdrew and got the toy in first – a small silicone phallus for anal, smaller than the glass dildo – and she sighed with pleasure as I very very slowly sank it, til my knuckles met her arse. Then I slid my cock into her cunt, feeling the toy in her rear against the bulbous ridge of the glans. I fucked her very slowly – the whole length of my cock sliding in right to the hilt. Then after a while, when I had a rhythm, I fucked her arse with the toy at the same time, but at a different pace; even slower than my cock in her cunt.

With both holes filled and her own eager fingers busy with her clit, there was pandemonium underneath me, as B bucked her hips and spat a muffled, indecipherable mixture of curses and praise into the mattress. I kept double-fucking her until she came – again, noisily; we are THE worst hotel neighbours - and then I wanked my cock until it spunked onto her arse – producing another stream of blasphemies, expletives and happy sighs.