DADDY SPANKING

My gorgeous lover recently sent me a very interesting message, which led to a lot of fun. Fuck knows what you're doing reading this if you're likely to be offended, but if you're too PC to be reading this, stop here! For the rest of you, here's the text of her email:


Darling

DADDY SPANKING

This is how it works:

It's just like any other spanking (ha very ha) only it's not.

Daddy spanking is a special spanking being given because you have been so good, and Daddy needs to make sure you are going to stay good - which he knows is hard, because it's hard for him, too. So it's a sort of lovingly thorough spanking with maximum skirt pulling up, breast touching etc.

Naturally Daddy ends up getting worked up - which is your fault since he's only been doing this for your own good - leading to Daddy showing you what you've done to him and how you will need more spankings from him so that you learn to control your behaviour.

Seeing the hard bulge in Daddy's trousers exposed as an erect, throbbing cock with him touching it - or not- you don't know what to do: touch it, suck it, touch yourself. All of which you KNOW are wrong.

Can end there. That's just good, dirty fun.

BUT it's extra filthy if Daddy explains that you have to help him deal with it now - after all, you have to learn you can't get men worked up like that. He might make you wank it, taking care to show you how to do it properly, or he might show you how to suck cock.

Can end there. That's extremely filthy.

But it can't end there, can it? Because now you WOULD be demented and your pants would be wet and you would whisper, Fuck me Daddy, and shortly after, Fuck me HARDER Daddy!

Really does end there.

Obviously some men are uncomfortable with the Daddy thing (completely understandable, though they aren't actually your daddy so no need to worry, really) but IF they do get it, it can be a mutually rewarding experience...

It's so wrong it's right...

I need to deal with myself now. So will call text and call later.
x

Naturally, I suggested that the girl in question might well plead at some point: Lick it for me, Daddy! Then after a while, Oh yes, lick me out, Daddy! And she agreed that this might well be the case. I should also mention that it's romp which works best with clothes on, not nudity. It's good if the man is dressed formally, in suit etc, and if the woman has a skirt and blouse without a bra, or dress, and bare legs.......

BATTERIES NOT INCLUDED

Both my regular partners had had sex toys in the past - as personal presents and to use with me - but over time they’d somehow lapsed from use at home - and apart from a few dirty solo shows, they weren’t a regular part of my shenanigans with B. The supersonic rabbit contraption I got them both was sort of part of a progression, which merely started with a dildo apiece (though interestingly, both women still enjoy their big jelly dildoes most of all – especially combined with my tongue, or with them sucking cock).

How did this progression begin? I don’t know what I was after, exactly, but for some reason, I revived a modest-sized jelly one with B, first of all, and it went down very well with her:

I like to use something cold on myself, so I like the idea of astainless steel or glass dildo – how cool. But I have to say I found the one you used the other night was very sexy - understatement of the year.

What with Christmas coming up, I think I subsequently bought her the glass one as a present – and that led to a lot of fun. But at first, I just fucked her with a jelly dildo:

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 hope you believe me when I say that what I want, desire, and must have in bed is cock. I have also told you that it's only being with you that has taught me that I like being penetrated - by anything really -as well as being properly fucked. It's just dirty and intense to be fucked by an object. And it's hot and intense in a different way to be fucked by you. And different again - and oh so good, the best - to have my tongue touching your cock, or your balls.

Of course a dildo usefully gets rid of the either/or situation: it lets you fuck her, while she licks your cock or balls. And I started to combine it with clit-licking:

I never knew until being with you that I love penetration... Perhaps you would consider fucking me -slowly - with something other than your cock while you lick me?

And let her fuck herself with it:

I would love to suck your cock while using a dildo and fingers on myself.

This was all good dirty fun. And yet, we were still only using dildos – like an extra cock, without all the bother of dealing with other people. We discussed them, but we just thought vibrators would be too distracting, if they weren’t part of a solo show – and we worried a little about the noise, when we were so often in hotel rooms:

Not sure vibrators are for introducing into our own play. Really we have enough to get through. Anyway, it's a private pleasure. Could be a public/private pleasure if you wanted to be my audience.

Then B put in a request:

Baby I might have changed my mind about vibrators. I had a little run in with one this evening. I was clean and glowing after a bath, having shaved from ankle to armpit and it seemed like a good idea to treat my manicured pussy to some lube. One thing led to another and I found myself practically fucking a vibrator which I had wedged in front of me, standing. I was bored after a while, needing something thicker, but found it made me feel sick with excitement (that's good) to rub against it slowly. I started having the slowest, wettest all-body orgasm which went on for so long that my legs were shaking and I had to stop, lie down, fuck myself and come again. I still feel slightly shaky now.

Ok, no problem – whatever the little lady wants, etc – so off I went to the shops again. As luck would have it, her partner and children were away for the night around that time and there wasn’t the same worry about buzzing noises at her house as there might be in a hotel. I went round there armed and dangerous – multi-function rabbit (the Swiss army knife of sex toys), anal probes, big jelly dong, arty glass dildo – I had the lot. By the time I left, she was completely spent: exhausted, satiated and rung out like a wet rag.

I was so impressed, I didn’t buy the company, but I did buy my partner a selection of these toys, too. Of course the girls do vary in their wants: B likes more tongue action combined with vibrator or dildo - and likes to fuck herself anally with the glass one. My partner, on the other hand, likes me to use something a little smaller and more flexible in her arse; but often combined with giving her some cock; so that I’m double fucking her – she says this is like having sex with an alien, but in a good way. Both girls share a love of their big jelly dongs, as I say – and love to be fucked with them, or fuck themselves with them, while sucking cock. And yes, they do both love their rabbit ones – what’s not to love about something which is more or less totally reliable at giving you several orgasms every time? – but at the same time, I think they both feel that it can be a bit much. It’s a little bit too fast, too reliable, almost: five minutes at gas mark 5 and that’s you, done: it shuts off other, more languorous and dilatory possibilities, delivering a coup de grace which ends play, at least for the time being.

A DILDO FAUX PAS

I made a bit of a sex toy faux pas a while back. Oh yes – now I remember – it was on New Year’s Eve. No surprise, then - because I’d had quite a lot to drink.

I’d given my partner a bit of a work out, making her come with my tongue and a dildo, and she’d sucked a first load of jism out of me, like a good girl. It being New Year n’all, I reached for a vibrator to give her some more:

"Where’s that big blue one?" I asked.

"Purple", she corrected me, quite needlessly, in the way drunken people do; "it’s purple."

True enough. Woops! It’s B’s one which is blue – I just bought my wife a similar model out of some warped sense of fair play. (Actually, I bought them each the same anal probe and they both got the same big jelly dildo, too). Anyway, she didn’t make anything of it; so I proceeded to hoover her clit with this ridiculous all-singing, all-dancing purple supersonic rabbit thing (sometimes trapping my tongue between the rabbit ears and her clit, so she got a vibrating tongue job, too) – did this until she came so much I thought she was going have a fatal spasm. Then I turned her over and fucked her until the second coming (my second coming – God knows where she’d got to). Anyway, after about four hours’ manic dancing, and quite a skinful, I thought it was good going for us old folks.

Yeah, I suppose it is funny to get them exactly the same sex toys; but it does make sense. Firstly, these purchases were the fruit of research and effort – you can’t ignore work you’ve put in, just because it’s a different person. Secondly, it’s only fair – you can’t buy your lover an expensive present, then sell your wife short. (Though to be honest, my lover got a very arty glass dildo because she likes its coldness, while my wife didn’t get one). And thirdly, there’s human curiosity – who could resist, who could help wondering how two very different women would react to the same sort of stimulation?

BACK DOOR MAN

Family vacations can be tough on married lovers, but the long school holidays can also offer additional opportunities for meeting. One partner may take the kids to visit grandparents, for example; leaving a working partner in town, and providing the perfect opportunity for evenings together, or even lunch-time trysts (for which it’s always difficult to get a hotel room, because they won’t let you in til two or three o’clock).

I must confess I’ve never been entirely comfortable in the role of ‘back door man’ (not in that sense, at least). When you’re in the other couple’s home, you’re very aware of the presence of the other man, manifested everywhere about the place by his clothes and possessions; by evidence of his taste and interests in books and CD’s and pictures. It’s sharply brought home to you – in a way that no amount of hotel meetings will ever do – that they have a life; a life into which she has surely poured an enormous investment of emotions, time and effort. And you’re surrounded by that life they’ve made: the photographs of family holidays, the children’s drawings, the furniture and décor they’ve bought together on shared shopping trips……

It’s a different matter entirely, when you’re brought in as rogue male to fuck a woman in front of, or in tandem with, her partner. In that situation, their life together doesn’t mean a damn thing to you, because you’re not having a relationship with her. It’s a little weird until you’ve got over initial nerves, but in some ways it’s easier…. You’re top dog, for a while, and there’s a real buzz from being the one adding the spice. (Getting her off is easy, not only because of the novelty factor - and sometimes the fact that she’s going to get two cocks and four or five loads of spunk - but also because she’s extra-excited for him to watch her doing all those things with you.) So if anything, you get an extra frisson from their relationship; from the fact that she’s being a slut with you in front of him: though rightly or wrongly, you always suspect that the best sex takes place between them after you’ve gone….

When you’re someone’s regular lover, you’d think it would be good for her to entertain you at home now and then – she can be more relaxed and in control, she doesn’t have to get in and out of outdoor clothes, she doesn’t have to watch the clock, or get up and go home to a partner’s chit-chat afterwards, and so on – but there are new worries. She’s wondering whether neighbours will see you leaving, or hear the noise you’re both making; she has to check that her partner and children are really where they say they are and won’t turn back or arrive unexpectedly to catch you in flagrante. (At the same time - and even while she’s taking practical steps to make sure it doesn’t happen - the possibility, however remote, perhaps adds a little something. And if pushed, I’ve got to say I think there may be a naughty urge to desecrate their perfect home, too.)

For me, I find there’s a queasy, uneasy sense of intimacy with the other couple, as she phones to check-in with her absent family: part love and genuine concern with their doings, part controlling instinct, and partly, of course, in order to ensure he doesn’t ring while we’re having sex. Last time I went round to hers under these circumstances, I sat with B on a sofa in their lounge, while she made the call: chatting fondly to the children, one after another; then with her partner, sweetly enquiring how things we’re going and wishing him goodnight. The familiar endearments trip easily off her lips. Yet all the while she’s talking to him, she’s stroking my burgeoning erection through my jeans; knowing that once she’s got off the phone, she’s going to be wrapping those same lips eagerly around it in the sanctuary of their bedroom. I have enough sense of my own betrayal to be dealing with, and don’t really want to be quite so closely inscribed into her infidelity; that’s her business.Nevertheless, as she ends the call, I find I’m eager to be lead upstairs….

I think it must have been the summer before last that we had a wonderful week, a perfect week, while her partner took the kids way up north somewhere. It was hot in the south, I remember that. Every night, I’d make my excuses – gym, work, a drink with a friend – and I’d stroll over after dinner, through the balmy evening air. People were spilling out onto the pavements from pubs and bars, in their casual shirts and shorts. Along the back alley I always took to evade the curiosity of neighbours, honeysuckle tumbled over garden walls, filling the air with scent, and in the soft, fragrant dusk clouds of moths would flutter and spin around each lamp down the alley-way.

I always paused before knocking, when I arrived at her door. Side lamps and candle light would gently illuminate the interior, as I peeked in through the blinds. And I’d see her then, oblivious as yet to my arrival - a vision, as she moved about their warm kitchen at the back of the house, lighting candles and pouring wine - fresh from her bath and already wearing black lingerie and stockings for me. I hesitated on the threshold, stealing a precious moment of anticipation and holding it tight; before I knocked quietly and broke the spell.