the kiss

‘It’s such a grey, impossible day,’ she says. She looks at the window, at the cold slanting rain. ‘I’m bored. You should entertain me.’


‘Strip off for starters. I want to see you nude.’ Smiling in that way she has, like a mischievous little girl who’s stolen some sweeties from a forbidden cupboard. ‘You know what I really love?’


‘Submissive men and boys who’d do anything to please me. I love that sound they make, that breathy little moan when they’re trying hard not to cum because I’ve told them they mustn’t. I want to hear you make that noise.’

I pull off blue tee and jeans and stand in front of her in the living room.

‘Make it stiff,’ she says. ‘It’s only half-erect. Rub it hard…Come on, harder!’ She wears purple lycra and black shoes. ‘You mustn’t cum. You understand?’

Yes, yes. I rubbed for her in earnest, rough, rapid strokes. I knew well the games she likes to play. She raises her head on slim neck and laughs gently. Her huge eyes are on the blur of my fist.

‘I’m going to cum.’

‘No! Stop!’ She is staring at my cock which is throbbing and feeling slightly chapped. ‘Lay on the floor in front of the fire,’ she says.

I lay down as instructed. I know what is coming next. She crouches over my face and gently lowers herself. I forget what it’s like to feel anything but fire. Feeling myself now a beastman, an eater of sweet girl flesh. She loves the gasping, desperate way in which I take in air each time she raises her bottom – gulping lungs trying to inflate like a lifejacket in this sea of pussy.

And while she squirms on my face, she rubs my cock, edging it over and over. Repeatedly she leaves me on the brink of ejaculation. Talking all the time. Always these illicit words. Praise and mischief rolling off her tongue. Driving me closer to cum. The she takes her hand away, leaving me feeling raw as a newly slaughtered lamb.

Finally, my Queen, following her fifth climax on her fleshy throne, rises from me. My face is soaking, awash with tidal flow. My poor jaw aches. Here, the antelope’s respite from the lioness. My cock is a frustrated, inflamed swelling, abused in her hands, misused to the point of madness. She has raised a terrible tumult in my circuitry…

I watch her at the window, her stretch. Arms akimbo, she bends from the waist.

‘Come,’ she says. ‘Time to lick out my arse…’

Sunday cum

July 16, 2017

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

6th May

Morning: gradually easing into sentience; emerging from my all too familiar Ligottiesk like nightmares, a nihilistic bug escaping from the pages of some forbidden grimoire. In the next room the girls sleep on, labyrinthine mazes of flesh and blood, both set going by simple acts of love. Dreaming, perhaps, of diamond dust or brick forests? Or vases of dead flowers? Farewell flowers, possibly? Who knows? Who can say?

I desperately need coffee.


Pornography is a male invention, and is mostly misogynist by nature. Women submit to the urgencies of a stiff penis and the stringencies of ritualized erotic performance. A quick search of the internet will expose film and photographs of millions of women, both amateur and professional, in poses that would bring a blush to the cheeks of the most seasoned gynecologist. Here female bodies are stripped, bent over, spread apart, twisted. Labia wear clothespegs or are pieced. Breasts are tightly tied to swell to an abnormal size and colour. Nipples are pinched by clamps. Buttocks gape wide. Wannabe virgins metamorphose into groveling, cum dribbling nymphomaniacs. Lesbians eat pussy with the rapaciousness of half-starved cannibals. Cocks pump powerfully into cunt, mouth or arse, spurt streams of thick cum over upturned, rapturous female faces. This subjugation and denigration of women is there to enable assorted males to wank off while viewing the women’s contorted and tormented bodies. These impossible, sadomasochistic scenarios exist to excite and appease male masturbatory lust. That, and nothing more.


Girls skipping in the street. Such an early memory, this one. Sunlight in their hair, glowing on their skinny legs, as they skip to a chanted rhyme:

“Teacher! Teacher!
I declare!
I can see your underwear!
Is it black or is it white?
Oh my God it’s dynamite!”

Such sure-footed girls. Where are they now? What’s become of them? Such beautiful, sunkissed, skipping girls. Wonder what finally tripped them up?

Beware of Self-Pollution…

August 21, 2016



June 3, 2016


Masturbation is not only an expression of self-regard: it is also the natural emotional outlet of those who, before anything has reared its ugly head, have already accepted as inevitable the wide gulf between their real futures and the expectations of their fantasies. The habit fitted snugly into my well-established world of make-believe.

Quentin Crisp
The Naked Civil Servant



If you want a content and submissive husband, he must be milked. I am not a lifestyle dominant, but grew interested as Richard repeatedly asked to be dominated. So we started to play a game where he would serve me, pick up some of the household chores and focus more attention on my sexual needs. The game worked fine for a few days and then abruptly came to an end. Richard lost interest and we reverted to our usual lives. At my husband’s request we have played this game several times, all with promises of life-style change, but none lasting more than a few weeks. The problem for me is that my husband was completely unreliable, as I never knew when he would stop doing his assigned chores. Also any progress I made in taking a leading and dominant role, was reversed at his whim.

At the time I didn’t appreciate the mood change that men have after they orgasm, but this is exactly what was happening to Richard. It didn’t matter if we had sex or if he masturbated, he completely lost interest in submission after ejaculating. Sometimes he’d reluctantly get back into being my slave, but only if I pushed him and threatened him. Most often we drifted back to normal. Then I discovered milking, and started to coax him to release semen without reaching an orgasm. When milked his mood and submission remain the same or even stronger, and as his need to release semen is satisfied, any sexual tension he felt is relaxed. We first tried this about four months ago, and for most of this time he has remained submissive, and works hard in our house and in our bed to please me. He does still miss his orgasm, and has asked for one. But I have explained the danger that he may relapse to his old behaviour and neither of us want that. A few months ago he masturbated to orgasm; he tried to conceal this but it was obvious. It took about two weeks to get back into our routine. I told him to buy a chastity belt and I’ll make him wear it if he ejaculates again.

Milking is easy once you get the hang of it, relax, take your time (about 20 minutes), don’t penetrate too far, just enough to rub against the prostate. Milking is not sex, and should not be confused with it. Do not allow him to get aroused as he may ejaculate if he is erect, talk about vacation or weather or sports but nothing sexual. I strongly suggest you designate a specific milking day and time each week so that your husband doesn’t get anxious about when or if he’s going to feel a release. I also think that having set routines helps to train him into being a better submissive. Get your husband to prepare and wait for you:- take out the lubricant, gloves (if any), anal probe, dish to catch the semen, and have him crouch naked on a towel on the bed. I usually do the milking but sometimes I tell him to do it and sit next to him reading or talking. If I’m busy with other things, I’ll start him off and come back later when he’s done. Don’t stop the process too early, his ejaculate will start to drip after five minutes or so, but you should expect two or more thick flows to dry him out. If you don’t go far enough, he may still be on edge and then there is the danger of masturbation. Once complete I suggest you have him eat his semen. I know that sounds awful, but men expect women to swallow their cum all the time. I find this a strong reinforcement of my power and I think helps my husband to focus on submitting to me.

Sex is a lot easier for us both now as he has no expectation of cumming and I don’t need to worry about satisfying him. We are still extremely intimate and loving, and I feel the bond between us has grown. I usually allow him to enter me, vaginally and anally, as I love the feeling of his hardness inside of me, but he is not permitted to cum. The interesting thing is that he is hard a lot each day, when I tease him and give him rewards, and always if I command him to do something. The only time he’s not allowed to be hard is when he is milked and allowed to release semen!

Cuckold husband and obedience training.

cum too much

Yeah, that’s the way – her sin flowing over my chin like honey, only musky as hell and smeared all over my face and mouth …Oh, God, that small of raw cunt gets me every time. Then later, that rush you feel just before your cock explodes its load deep inside her.

She loves it when I grip her by the throat and pin her to the wall while fingering her quim. Those soft little moans she makes, and her hips twitching involuntarily. Fantastic. Finger fucking her on wet rainy afternoons is my favorite pastime.

Once she asked me to use her in front of a room full of people. Just her and me together. She wanted that fuck to be hard, abusive and relentless. She wanted no feckin’ mercy. It was to be a monumental act of exhibitionism. The others would watch what was being done to her, and they could wank or feel each other up while I shagged her in the arse, cunt and mouth. And when I was finally finished with her, when I’d filled each of her inflamed holes with my cum, every man in the room would stand over her and use her as a cum dump.

In the old place, on summer mornings, she used to lead me by the cock into the back bedroom before breakfast. From the window you could see out over the car park. Groups of girls in school uniform and female shop and office workers used the car park as a shortcut to the high street. She’d have me stand at the window and describe the girls, their legs, the shortness of their skirts, their white socks. All the while I was talking she’d be rubbing my cock.

Which one would make me cum?

She’d ask me what I’d like to do with them if I ever had the chance.

Once it was the slender girl who worked in the library and stamped my books out on a Friday afternoon. She had on this mini, mini skirt, more a belt than skirt. Her small tits in a silken top and those long, shapely legs were too much for me. I shot all over the window sill…Another time it was a plumpish teen in a grey pleated skirt and white ankle socks. I could see her tender tits jiggling inside her white blouse.

Last night she gave me that baby girl smile of her’s and fluttered those eyelashes at me as she went down on all fours. We both knew what it was she most craved. I tightened the belt round her neck and forced my cock up her backside. Her eyes bulged after a little time without air. I slackened the belt, but continued thrusting in her like a mad bull.

“Treat me like a slut,” she hissed, eyes watering and face almost scarlet. ‘Fuck me like a dirty whore…”

I tightened the belt until she nearly fainted away while arse fucking her to a rich creamy climax.

Says it all…

February 11, 2016


Proud Cock

Proud Cock

Dee in black silken underwear.

Dee in black silken underwear.

Gabriella, Peedeel and Dee at play.

Gabriella, Peedeel and Dee at play.

God, my cock was stiff. So much tugging and pulling. Edging me to the lip of a feckin’ limitless abyss…

Yesterday, PM, Dee was in total BITCH mode. She wanted to tease, deny, and generally fuck someone over.

Hey, and guess what? I was ready to hand, wasn’t I!

So, I’m starkers on the bed, secured to same by ankles and wrists. She starts to slow wank me – Oh, and I have these SOOOO good, “yes please feelings” washing over me – like being tuned in to radio ECSTASY FM just before Armageddon. Maybe ten minutes she does this. Then I begin to tense, drifting towards the spunky inevitability of orgasm.

Dee stops. She walks across the room. Sits in the armchair beside the window. Picks up a copy of Cosmo and thumbs through it. She sips her drink. The perfect Alpha female in black, silken underwear. She talks about purchasing a new oven – she’s seen a Bosch that’s ‘Simply perfect!’

‘Will it fit the kitchen unit?’ I ask, joining her silly game, trying to ignore my throbbing knob, like the hero I am.

‘Yes, I’ve checked that. Same size as the old one.’ Matter of fact, business-like. Dee is a labyrinthine tangle at times. Inscrutable.

‘Okay, fine. We could get that – ’

She returns to the bed, takes gentle hold of my cock. She takes the foreskin down as far as it’ll go, exposing the head glistening with precum. She tugs down on the foreskin, as if trying to get it to pull even further back. I moan, quietly, surprised by this. She “polishes” the head with the palm of her left hand, a slow rotary movement that takes my breath away. And I know I’m going to shoot my loan…

But no. Wishful feckin’ thinking on my part. Dee let it go just prior to zero hour.

Gabriella arrived home a little after six. She stuck her head round the bedroom door. She rolled her eyes. ‘You two are insatiable, you know that?’

‘I’ve had a shite day,’ Dee replies, coolly. ‘This is my compensation. He’s my scapegoat.’

‘Whatever,’ Gabby shrugs. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘We’re eating out. Peedeel’s treat.’

‘I was going to do vegetable tagine,’ I said, all helpless absurdity.

‘I need meat,’ Dee said. ‘Lots of red meat. I feel like a carnivore today. I want to pick bones clean with my teeth.’

‘Yeah,’ Gabby agreed. ‘I could murder a steak, to be honest.’

‘Okay, okay.’ I give way to Dee’s ice-hearted mood. I always do.

‘Will we get a table okay?’ Gabby asked. ‘Have you booked?’

‘Not yet. But I’ll phone in a mo.’ And then her voice husky low like a cold blooded mother, Dee said, ‘I’ve got a little something for Peedeel. It’s a lovely pink cock cage. It’s designed to keep a man in chastity, you know? Locks over his you-know-what. Stops him playing with it. I’m going to edge him a few more times, then lock him away until Monday evening.’


‘Because I can.’

‘Why not lock him away for a fortnight? Or a month?’

Dee smiled. ‘Now there’s an idea…’

The two women, giggling like conspiratorial schoolgirls, whispered together. Gabriella opened the top draw of Dee’s bedside cabinet. She lifted out a small pink silicone penis cage.

‘I got it online last month,’ Dee said. ‘It’s designed to prevent erections.’ It was about four inches in length with a small brass padlock and key. ‘It’s hypoallergenic. The open end means he can still pee – but nothing else. It totally prevents penis growth. A very clever device.’

‘Every home should have one of these.’

‘I didn’t consent to this,’ I said. My gathering anger like a whirlpool beneath the normally placid surface of me. I was a man suddenly breathing water.

‘You did, though,’ Dee replied. ‘I said, ‘Can I play with you?’ – ‘Yes,’ you said. I said. ‘Can I tie you down?’ ‘Sure, if you want,’ you replied. That’s consent in my book.’

‘It is,’ Gabriella agreed.

‘Not for wearing that bloody thing!’ I was beginning to get very pissed at them. Dee stood, her face blank as stone. ‘I didn’t agree to that!’ I repeated to her.

‘Okay,’ she said quietly. ‘Then I’ll stop edging you, and take the cage off when you use the safeword.’

‘What safe word? We didn’t decide one.’

‘I did, though. You’ve got to guess what it is, if you want out. Like in the story of Rumpelstiltskin. Only I don’t think you’ll guess in a million years.’ A sly world we occupy. One that closed down on me abruptly, trapping me. ‘Get the feather…’

Gabriella removed a long black bird’s feather from the drawer. She waved it in the air. Dee, smirking like lady death, took hold of my semi-erect cock and stroked it to full, throbbing tumescence. Then, using a two handed grip, she pulled the foreskin down with so much force it felt as if my frenulum must tear. ‘Pleeeease…’ I managed, between clenched teeth. Then Gabby started tickling the very moist glans with the tip of the feather. The stretching of my frenulum and Gabby’s actions with the feather rapidly took me to the edge. My eyes felt suddenly swollen. My arse started to rise from the bed…

Dee released her grip, and instead squeezed very hard on the area between shaft and glans. A milky bead of spunk appeared on the head of my cock. Pleasure dissipated in Dee’s inflexible and remorseless squeeze. My cock shrank and my heart became a racing watch.

Even before I was aware it was happening, they’d fitted the silicone chastity device to my now flaccid penis. I was caged and locked. The rank grimace on my face was blunted by the stony wall of their obvious indifference.

‘We need to shower and change,’ Dee said, ‘if we’re going to eat tonight.’

‘That looks so funny on you,’ Gabriella remarked. ‘All pink and girly. Why don’t you wear your pink shirt tonight Peedeel? It’ll remind us what’s going on in your pants.’

Laughing, the pair abandoned me. They went to the bathroom. I heard the sound of the power shower. In the window greyness was turning to darkness: the world gradually losing its colour. While on the bed my aching cock was tightly, irrevocably enclosed in pink silicone…