What do you tongue on Sunday morning…?

I like going down on a woman because:

The sounds: the way she whimpers; the way she brings it up back to my mouth when I stop licking. The broken moans. Hearing her breathing get harder & feeling her legs shaking, when she looks down at me as I look up at her, and she bites her lip, my gosh. The way her back arches. The way she grinds her clit on my tongue. The death grip on my head right before she cums and her legs give out. The way she pulls me back up & tastes herself on my lips.

Angela Bell
Lipstick Lesbian

21st May

Reality is multi-faceted. We inhabit this world and often describe it with words – but if you know the correct combination of words…well, then you can make this world whatever you want it to be. That’s magic, you see. And magic and words is all you’ll ever need.


I can’t help but enjoy her helpless pleading. It’s a silly game we play, I know, but when she cries:

‘No, not there, please….pleeeasssseee.’

And I force it to fit, and see the expression on her face in the mirror on the far wall. That moment feels so erotically charged.


Last summer seven of us around Dave and Mary’s swimming pool. Sophia and Vic arguing, then wrestling between a pair of sunbeds, like truculent children. Vic yowling when Sophia twists his cock. She has it out of his trunks, semi-erect, gripping it in her small fist. He is red-faced, sweating…We watch Vic forced gradually to his knees, breathing noisily, unable to free himself or counter Sophia’s vice-like hold.

‘Stop struggling.’ She orders. ‘Stop now or I’ll tear it out by the root.’

‘Alright, alright.’

His sister Babs calls out vaguely obscene acts Sophia might force him to comply with, and Vic yells out:

‘Whose side are you on, Sis?’

Sophia’s eyes are bright with this unexpected victory and the sense of power she has over him. She is on one knee beside him. The knuckles griping his twisted cock are white with the effort, while her other hand has now captured his exposed balls. His shorts are down round his thighs. One of his hands is pressed to the ground supporting his weight, the other is wrapped loosely round Sophia’s right wrist. He can’t tug at her because she twists harder, both balls and cock.

‘Come on,’ he says ‘Enough is enough. Let go now – ’

‘Make him suck Kenny’s cock,’ Babs’ suggests. She is quite intoxicated by sun and vodka. ‘Let’s see him do that…We could all use a laugh.’

Ken B rolls on his side on the bright orange sunbed. Using his thumbs he works his trunks over his hips. Fat, meaty cock standing to attention.

‘Bring it on,’ he cries. Removing his sunglasses, he gives Vic a nasty wink.

‘Come on, I’m not doing that,’ says Vic. ‘Not for anyone – ’

And he moans in pain as Sophia twists harder, her conquering smile at his shoulder.

‘You’ll do exactly as I say.’ She says this with such passion. ‘Now up you get, slave boy, and over to Kenny. You’re going to do a bit of sucking – ’

‘He can do me, when he’s finished with Ken,’ Mary calls. She props herself up on her sunbed, both tits exposed and glowing. ‘Like to lap at my cup Vic? I’ve been in the pool so it’s all washed for you.’

General laughter and applause round the pool as Vic is forced to his knees beside Kenny’s sunbed. Head forward, face brushing Ken’s cock before Vic finally takes it reluctantly into his mouth.

‘There’s a good boy,’ says Sophia. ‘You take to that like a duck to water. A baby with its pacifier.’

The sight of his bobbing head produces laughter all around. Kenny gives this slightly obscene wriggle when he cums in Vic’s mouth. The hateful expression on Vic’s face as he straightens up causes yet more laughter.

‘Me next,’ cries Mary. Dave tells her to behave herself, but she’s unknotted her bikini bottom, and raised one leg into the air. To open herself wider, she draws the folds of skin apart with her fingers. ‘Here you are. All ready for you.’

And within seconds Vic is on his knees and feverishly pressing his lips to this small pink conch shell. More enthusiasm in his movements now. Her thighs press to his ears. He licks at the growing wetness, face flushed, breathing loudly. Again applause around the pool at the climax of this vulgar ritual. Her long body shuddering in the throes of joy…

Sophia finally releases him.

Vic pulls up his trunks.

And everyone applauds the fine performance.

I’d been married five years when I learned my husband was cheating on me. After the inevitable confrontation with him and the all the usual recriminations, I told him I couldn’t forgive what he’d done.

I couldn’t!

I was seething inside and wanted payback like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life before. I started cleaning the toilet each morning with his toothbrush. I put laxative in his food…but that wasn’t enough!

I’ve had this fantasy where multiple males would ‘take’ me repeatedly. I’d never mentioned it to anyone. Nor had I done anything to make fantasy, reality. Until now.

It took a lot of organizing but eventually I arranged a fourteen man gangbang which I had my best friend film. The action went on for most of one weekday. They had me four times each, and Gloria (my friend) filmed the ‘highlights’.

When hubby came home from work I told him ‘If you want forgiveness you get down on your knees and lick my pussy…’ I was sore down there, you know, but I hadn’t showered or anything, and not only was I a little swampy, I also had a stink in my panties like four day old anchovies. And it was all going to be for him, the bastard.

Anyway, down he got on his knees. I took my panties off and spread really wide. He buried his face deep in my vertical smile and started licking…An hour (and three orgasms) later, I told him, ‘Okay. That’s enough for now. There’s a homemade DVD beside the player. Watch it and see why you’re forgiven for now…I’m going for a shower.’

While he went off to watch his ‘film’ I fixed myself a stiff drink. A little later I looked round the living room door and he was watching me take two cocks simultaneously, front and back – but not only watching. He’d got his dick in his hand and was rubbing it like it was Aladdin’s lamp. Only instead of a genie he eventually shot a load of thick cum over his suit pants leg while I stood there silently watching…

What the hell! I should be surprised at this man who’d screw anything that moved – including the venetian blinds! One thing I’ve learned from the whole sorry experience – in future I’ll be the heroine of my life, not the victim!

Mary T

Iris Parker
True sex confessions

I’d love to watch another man suck my husband’s cock, basically because it’s so big it hurts my jaw when I do it.

Source HERE


When I was younger I got involved in Taekwondo and was really enjoying it (I still do), but unfortunately things got tight financially at home and my parents told me we had to cut back on expenses.

I told my instructor that I would be quitting. She was understanding about the reason why, but said she would be willing to work things out with me so I didn’t have to quit.

I still got to train but after a few weeks, she asked me to stay on after class. She said she would let me continue to train for free, if I was willing to do something in return for her.

At first it was just letting her do things to me. She would ask to see my pussy; sometimes she’d touch it, put her fingers in me, things like that.

I knew it was “wrong”, but it was exciting too and felt good so I let her do whatever she wanted to do with me. Eventually she started asking me to do things to her, and our relationship progressed from there.

I told my parents that she gave me a job cleaning the dojo after class so I didn’t have to quit. She made me cum two, three times a session. She had me lick her out and finger fuck her hard and fast. She used to shriek loud when she came.

I consider myself straight. She’s the only woman I’ve been with ever, but I must confess, I still fantasize about her and the things we did together. And often, thinking about her, I have to masturbate. There, I said it…



May 15, 2016


‘I’ve given guys blow jobs just because I’ve run out of things to talk about.’

‘Oh, Rae. Who hasn’t’

Anne Lamott
Crooked Little Heart

A true cynic…

April 16, 2016



“He fucks even better than he looks”, I settled on saying. Several heads turned. I didn’t care; I was pissed. “And that beautiful face is going to be clamped between my legs as soon as we get home, don’t you worry.”

Jeaniene Frost
Destined for an Early Grave


Diary 20th March

Sunday, day of rest…Or, alternatively, of wild sexual activity. You choose…
It is sweet to drink, but bitter to pay for…
Earlier: ‘Oh Christ…’ half-whispered in the semi-light, desperate, as we fell together in each other’s arms, and discovered how much darkness there is at the periphery of our world. My eyes on yours. Voodoo doll’s eyes. Skin on skin. Shadows of trees on the blinds behind us…We struggled with the soft curves of sleep, hip to hip…like splinters under each other’s skin.
In my study/workroom/cave open a box of…Of what? Old crap. Photographs and papers. My first wife smiling into the camera, eyes vague as marble. Old friends, only half-remembered now…

An exercise book, maybe ten thousand years old. Look at the notes within, my youthful, spider-like handwriting:

‘In iambic metres an unstressed end-rhyme will almost always be an unstressed hyperbeat (the only other possibility is for it to be catalectic, omitting the last beat)…’

Ah, what sagacity perished here!
Friday night a swarthy man turned up at the front door, just after ten o’clock. He had a large blue plastic box in his arms.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Is this number twelve?’ he asked.


He stood carefully watching me from under thick dark lashes. Then he asked my postcode. I told him, bemusedly.

‘What is it you want?’ I finally asked.

‘I have your order of food. Tandori.’

‘Not mine,’ I said.

‘Ah, he said. It must be for number one. They order Tandori every other night for delivery. I’ll take it there…’

‘Oh. okay.’

I closed the door and returned to the lounge. Two minutes later Dee and Gabriella looked round the door. ‘We ordered an Indian take away…’

‘Oh, I’ve sent it off…’

‘No, the guy phoned my cell from outside. We came down and got it. Sorry, we should have told you. There’s some veggie stuff, if you’re interested…’

Life can be so feckin’ confusing. Especially when other people are involved.
D’you think snails have feet…?
We might try and fit in another fancy dress party before our Sicily trip in June. We sat last night discussing themes, which became increasingly extreme and bizarre…
Te fuiste y te llevaste mi armadura…
We’re out for lunch today, so I asked: ‘What d’you want to do this evening?’ Answer: ‘Watch a DVD while you eat me out…’
Three nuns were talking together. The first nun said, “I was cleaning in the Father’s room the other day and do you know what I found? A bunch of pornographic magazines.”

“What did you do?” the other nuns asked.

“Well, of course I threw them in the trash.”

The second nun said, “Well, I can top that. I was in the Father’s room putting away the laundry and I found a bunch of condoms!”

“Oh my!” gasped the other nuns. “What did you do?” they asked.

“I poked holes in all of them!” she replied. And the third nun fainted.

(laughter tape again)
A dyslexic man walks into a bra…

(More taped laughter.)
A man and a woman were having drinks when they got into an argument about who enjoyed sex more. The man said, ‘Men obviously enjoy sex more than women. Why do you think we’re so obsessed with getting laid?’

‘That doesn’t prove anything,’ the woman countered. ‘Think about this…when your ear itches and you put your finger in it and wiggle it around, then pull it out, which feels better – your ear or your finger?’
March 14th was Algernon Blackwood’s 147th birthday…I forgot to mention it.
Slow fade out…


I spent the first 25 years of my life as a lesbian, knowing I was always secretly bisexual, but knowing also that my conservative family could never understand the diversity of sexuality, of people, and of lovers. I was with a long-term girlfriend, then another long-term girlfriend, so the binary label seemed easier. Straight. Gay. Leave the “in between” part for when I’m alone wanking to porn. But then I tried the dick. With a lot of curiosity and experimentation, it seemed ok enough, and if I could help match fantasy to reality, it could possibly even be decent.

But with a lot of trial and too much error, I decided men had no idea how to go down on women. Let’s face it, I’ve worked with real experts. Women know women better. It’s a fact I always accepted. It’s like taking your vintage car to the dealership vs. the local mechanic. Sure, you’re going to get up-charged, but they know your brand the best.

When men would try to go down on me, I would stop them at the thought. “No, no…it’s ok… just stick it in,” I’d tell them, unwilling to waste my time faking another orgasm to prevent a fractured ego. Ok, I was a little more polite than that, with a baby thrown in for good measure. “But I love doing it,” a lover said once. I rolled my eyes, secretly wondering if I could get away with reading the news on my phone at the same time he was drowning in his own drool.

Giving the direction “fingers inside me with clitoral stimulation” seemed to cause as much confusion as telling him to look behind something to find the milk. I half expected him to stand at the foot of the bed like I was a refrigerator with the door open and gaze at me in endless confusion at this foreign concept. This was not “walk and chew gum”, this was a another thing far more complicated. I thought, I can speak “bro”. I was a lesbian, for Christ’s sake. “Have you ever driven a stick shift?”

So I made things simpler. Fuck me. Hard. Preferably from behind. Because once you get that angle, that oh-so perfect angle just right, that thrust will set me off like the Fourth of July just had an orgy with Cupid and Santa while the Easter Bunny jerked off in the corner and the world exploded with fireworks, flowers, presents, and chocolate cream eggs all at once, then twice, oh wait…one more time…there…I’m good…pardon while I tremble. Am I crying? It’s ok, it’s the good kind.

But then I met you. You were too tall, too tall. Your strength scared me. What if you hurt me? What if you yelled at me and I got scared? Given the stories I know and things I’ve seen, this wasn’t an impossible fear. But, no. My gentle giant’s hands are used only for snuggles, and squeezes, and slipping up my skirt or down my panties. For wiping stray eyelashes or insisting on another cookie while we play video games. For that one time I tried to hide my silent laughter behind the hair hanging in my face and you softly pushed it aside and caught me.

You have facial hair. That just won’t do. My father has facial hair, and we all know how I feel about him. But…..no…your furry chin doesn’t block your soft lips and perfect kisses. It cozies right up to my neck to tickle until I giggle with goosebumps and you pull me closer against you.

I humored you that first time. “Oh great… he wants to go down on me,” I thought. “Where’s that book I was reading?” But dear God and all other deities. You’re sucking my clit while you’re sticking your big long finger in me. Holy shit, is that two? Ohgod, ohgod, g-spot while you’re lapping at my clit? I was wrong to doubt you. How are your massive arms just the right length to reach to my breast to squeeze my nipple? Harder, please. Ahhh yes…just like that. Don’t you dare stop!

I couldn’t focus, I was overwhelmed. Overcome. That must be where that word comes from. I didn’t just come. I was overcome! You had to hold down my pelvis or my careless thrusts could’ve knocked a tooth out. My legs shook, my body tensed, and I squeezed your fingers hard. I was scared of how big the orgasm would be. Almost like it was going to be too much and I didn’t want to come because I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. A string of profanity followed, but you didn’t stop. You were taking me there. One more flick of your tongue across my clit and I covered your fingers buried inside me. But you were just getting warmed up. Three more like that followed and on the fourth I told you I didn’t think I could come again. I now understand how much you love a challenge, so of course, I came once more.

Nearly two years later, our sex has only gotten better. Sometimes passionate and loving where I won’t let your lips leave mine while you’re fingering me. Sometimes I’m on top of you laughing while my hips twerk to the music as I bounce on your cock. Sometimes I text you when you’re on your way over and tell you not to be gentle, and you spank me while you take me from behind.

And that one time you came over before going out of town. I was shaking with release and you were moving me to spoon before I stopped you. “No… I want another one…” And you seemed surprised before the lightbulb came on. “You’re gone for a few weeks, I just need-” and you shook your head. “I know what you’re doing. I got this,” you said with determination. I giggled at your “serious face” until you were inside me again.

You taught me I had it all wrong. You get me. You love me. You care for me. You protect me. And your balls always smell clean when I’m going down on you. You broke every rule, every assumption, I ever had about men and I will always love you for it.


How to make me come