The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

Kinky and filthy things that have happened to us, all explicitly told

The Sexualisation of Normal

14 March 2026 / / 0 Comments

I haven’t written that much about our free-use lifestyle, other than the big sessions, the parties. But free-use is my daily reality. Over the course of any given day, I’ll probably have sex with three different men, I’ll orgasm at least four times, at least once from anal, and aside from that, my cunt, ass and tits will be displayed and viewed, I’ll be groped and mauled, I’ll kiss loads, I’ll have cock in my mouth, all on their whim, on their timetable, and the result is that I am kept on a sexual high all day.

On Fridays, because I’m the only one of the four women who is available during the day (and the men are normally on end of week work from home days), I get much more free-use than that. All four men normally fuck me twice each, I’ll cum at least eight times, I’ll probably have anal four times and vaginal four times and then add all the other stuff in too. And that’s before I get to the pub to be fucked into the night by Carla.

Fridays are an ordeal. Fridays are a struggle. Fridays are so tiring, such hard work. Fridays are my favourite day of the week.

To really emphasise the use aspect, the men like us to carry on with what we are doing whilst they use us. Holding a conversation is hard, and quite often, if there are two or more women there, they’ll wait until we are deep in conversation, then someone will start fucking each of us. Two people whose thought patterns are being interrupted hold hilarious conversations, but we have to carry on. It is the epitome of free-use.

And I have to say that the fact that we can’t talk about the sex or anything free-use, while it’s happening or afterwards, is really quite hard. It just has to happen, unspoken, unmentioned.

I’ll quite often be cooking, and they’ll bend me over the kitchen work surface and fuck or masturbate me, whilst expecting me to carry on with the actual cooking. That’s not too hard perversely, just don’t try to follow a recipe. Being fucked whilst reading is hard, and I’ll probably have to go back and re-read those pages. Watching TV is fine, although I’ll miss bits. He’s taken to cradling me and masturbating me all the time I’m watching TV, not trying to make me cum, but if I do, he just ignores it and carries on.

This is one of the big parts of free-use for me: the sexualisation of normal. They fuck me whilst I do normal things, like converse, write, type, cook. I get fucked doing things other people do not get fucked doing.

I think the conversation fucks are the most incredible. Making me feel both important and valued in what is said and a sexual object at the same time, valued and subjugated at the same time. To make one feel both valued and cheap in that moment is quite the gift. That normal people can have a conversation without being fucked, and often I can’t, really keeps me deep down submissive. That I can’t watch the TV without being masturbated really keeps me deep down submissive.

That and almost always being topless, pantyless and wearing a very short skirt at home, so that I am not only available for use, but often visible and displayed, expected to be visible and displayed, proud and yet a constant reminder of what I am, a reminder to all us free-use women what we are.

The no panties thing I did years ago, to give him better access to my cunt at all times. The topless and short skirts at home is more recent, as we free-use women got more submissive. It is our version of a typical slave statue display, and allowing our usually hidden body parts to be displayed, consumed by the free-use men, it is itself part of the free-use. If the people in the room are in on the free-use, us women have to sit, legs wide, skirt up and not in any way hide our tits or cunt. We are to be consumed with their eyes, before being consumed in other ways. It adds to our subservient feelings, and is part of keeping us women on a sexual high.

I’m not allowed to adjust my clothes otherwise. If someone (for example) lifts my skirt up to display my ass, I’m not allowed to pull it down again, unless someone tells me to (or someone or gravity does it for me). If I’m clothed, I’m not allowed to get a tit out, but someone else can. My state of dress (or indeed undress) is totally controlled by others. It’s strangely freeing.

As well as not wearing panties, I haven’t covered my cunt for 8 1/4 years. So, no trousers / leggings / tights. I wear stockings and suspenders and skirts / dresses. (There are two exceptions, swimming (although we go to nudist swimming events as much as possible), and the odd sex act (like panty wetting, but that is as he requires and is for our mutual pleasure)).

Bras are a different matter. I have big tits. UK bra size 34H, US 34K. Until recently, I always insisted on wearing a bra to keep them in check. But I’m a sub now, and I’ve known for the longest time that he’d prefer I didn’t wear one most of the time. I wanted him to take ownership of me, and one of the consequences of that was to deal with bras. I now won’t wear one, unless he wants me to.

It feels a lot more sexual to me, going round without a bra, having them swing around and having my nipples show so much, visible and protruding under a blouse. On the odd occasions I do wear a bra, the bra will be one of the quarter cup ones I’ve had custom-made (as manufacturers don’t make them for my cup size), so even if I’m wearing a bra, my nipples are often visible. And my nipples react very strongly to rubbing on clothes, so they are now constantly enormous, hard and proud. It’s all a part of keeping me sexually aroused.

It’s a big change to not wear a bra at times, a massive change, like my massive tits, and being topless round the home and going out mostly not wearing a bra is new to me. And I very soon realised that attention I’d get with mammoth unleashed tits and nipples the size of bedknobs was plentiful and exciting. My husband has all my old bras locked away, like my remaining panties, and I have extremely large, slightly painful, very noticeable, massive nipples for my trouble. And my husband has been pointing out how magnificent a nipple piercing would look displayed on a massive nipple with a thin layer of fabric stretched over it.

I have done and continue to do exercises to strengthen my back, to allow me to maintain better posture with my tits unsupported for extended periods of time, and I wish I’d done them years ago. I used to believe locking up my tits was the right thing to do, but the free swinging and snapping of my tits, the slight pain in the flesh caused by a day of being unsupported, is wonderful. It sounds perverse, but I love it so much, and of course, I can’t hold on to them, can’t hide them, so gravity does its worst on them all day every day.

Honestly, I am truly happy when I go to bed with throbbing tits, a stinging ass, an aching jaw and a messy cunt where cum is sliding out of it. I am in total heaven when that happens, especially all that with him spooning me with a semi-hard cock residing in my ass crack and a hand firmly gripping a tit.

My friend Shae mentioned (on her blog slaveshae.wordpress.com) that our free-use is not a dom-sub arrangement, more of a free-use kind of polycule. It’s a fairly accurate description. When the penny first dropped about my being a full-time sub, I really struggled, precisely because it doesn’t fit within a standard dom-sub arrangement. I tried to crowbar it in, I went round and round in circles. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a dom, he is gentle, steady sort of dom, born out of being a natural manager, but nevertheless, he has pulled all these little sub things I used to do into one, and he is very much in control of me, and that is exactly what I want, a warm hugging blanket, built on trust, with a man I would walk to the ends of the earth for, but a man who totally looks after me, a man who has my back, has my best interests at heart and a man totally comfortable with using his property however he wants. It feels pretty perfect right now.

But the rest of the free-use men are different. I liked Shae’s use of the word “culture”. The men have rights to us, to use us, to look, grope, fuck, whatever, one, two, however many at a time. I’m sure they are being a bit dommy when they take us, but I’ve talked to them, and they feel more like they are just taking what is theirs, usage by rule, and we have an expectation to be used that they have to live up to.

It’s the women that have been most affected. All four of us are very subby now, and that’s quite a surprise. We are all fairly strong women otherwise, businesswomen, entrepreneurs, good positive female role models. And yet, with the flick of a switch, we’re back being hugely subby, eager to sexually please. Switching between those roles is a bit of a head fuck to be honest. I have the journey home to switch into the correct mindset, and as soon as I get through the door, I have to switch into the correct clothing arrangement to finish the job.

And the other three women are on the same path, at some point along the journey. Even the one that was resistant to being subby has conceded that’s what she is and is embracing it. We didn’t expect that. That’s why I think this is permanent for all of us now. I really can’t see how any of us can back out of this.

We women are not lower in status because of the free-use. We are still equal partners, still equal friends, still valued, still important, still with the same status we always had. It’s just that certain things we’ve signed over to others. Doesn’t lower our status, just changes our mindset and behaviour.

The sex, the control, the masturbation, the display, the relentlessness, the orgasms, the clothes, the penetrations, the carrying on what we are doing is all a part of the free-use experience. The more we’ve done it, the more things like display and masturbation we’ve added in to something that at the start was mostly about penetration, the more overwhelming and all-encompassing it has become, the more intense our experience is. The men have completely sexualised normal.

And we are about to make our free-use bigger and more intense, more sexual. And every single one of the women can hardly wait.

One For Each Year

4 March 2026 / / 2 Comments

I can’t quite believe my husband and I have been together for 14 years. And in those very early days, he groped my tits as if he owned them, he groped my ass like he’d never groped another, he filled my cunt over and over with hard, girthy cock and thick, sticky cum. And I loved it. I was his. I wanted him to take me over and over. And he did. Two and three times a day he fucked me, my cunt got very used to being filled very quickly.

My first period came, and far from slowing down or stopping fucking me because of it, he fucked me more. I always craved sex during my period and he was the first man to oblige. And we barely cleaned up from one lot before he was in me again, my bloody cunt being a magnet for his hard cock. And each time he did it, it felt that he took me again. His blood-soaked cock was in me, no matter what, taking me no matter what. I loved it. I was still his.

And then my cunt got a little uncomfortable. It needed some rest. And so, desperate for him to continue taking me over and over, I offered him my asshole. And he was kind and gentle and understanding, and well versed with fucking assholes, so even the first time, he started slow, but grew to be huge and strong with his thrusts. I didn’t like anal before, but with him, my asshole wanted to be taken, just as much as my cunt did, and I loved it. I was even more his.

Around the same time as the fourteenth anniversary of us being together, it was also the eighth anniversary of this blog. I thought I’d get bored of blogging by now. I thought no one would read it. I thought no one would like it. None of those turned out to be true. All the writing, all the memories. I’m incredibly horny all the time. My cunt is excited all the time. It wants to be filled all the time. Memory is powerful. My cunt is needy.

Also around the same time, it is the second anniversary of our free-use. I thought we’d get bored of that too, bored of being interrupted, tired of being used. I thought our cunts and asses would be worse for wear for all the sex. I thought someone would drop out or it would fold. None of those turned out to be true either. Over time, we grew to need more cock, we grew to need more use. My cunt is needier than ever.

Even an eight person gang bang didn’t sate it. It’s lust to be taken, it’s lust to be filled was growing more and more, and my asshole wasn’t far behind.

Ever since my husband and I got together, he liked marking and celebrating anniversaries, even sexualising anniversaries that weren’t sexual in themselves. He liked doing things to take me over and over again. I had a lust for a filled cunt, for a stretched asshole. And he always made anniversaries count.

The anniversary of us getting together is always celebrated on our own, just the two of us, emphasising our closeness and bond. But since our tenth anniversary of being together, he’s required me to orgasm the same number of times as the anniversary. This year, fourteen. He’s got 24 hours, but there’s just him. We both have to take the day off work. It is so tiring. Satisfying, but tiring.

He uses a spreader bar to keep my legs spread, to keep my cunt available to his hand, to his mouth, to his cock. My cunt barely has time to recover from cumming before he starts again. It gets so sensitive. My cunt needs him to stop, is crying out for him to stop. He knows the fight I have between cunt and brain. And he knows the brain will win. The cunt will have to put up with it. The cunt craves it really. I have orgasms to have. It has no choice.

And those orgasms arrive, as sure as night follows day. He forces my cunt through its refusal, til that orgasm builds again, til my cunt spasms again, gets wet again, sometimes even squirts. It gets milked again for every drop of girl cum, every drop of squirt.

It’s relentless. He’s relentless. I love relentless. My cunt loves it somewhat less. Still, it doesn’t have much choice.

And this year, we mirrored that first evening when we got together. We went out for an Indian (although this time, I had his cum dripping out of my cunt all the time we were eating). We watched a comedy DVD (the same one as fourteen years ago, although this time, he played with my cunt, he wanked me the entire time we were watching it).

Then we kissed, properly snogged. Although this time, the snogs were accompanied by hard wanking. I came mid snog. One of the fourteen. He didn’t stop snogging me. Or wanking me. I was his. He was doing as he wanted. And my body loved it. My cunt loved it.

Right throughout the day, more often than not, my cunt was filled. Cock when it was able, fingers or dildos when it wasn’t. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t think. I was just a creator of wetness in his hands. I had no will. I just did as he wanted. My cunt just did what it was told.

I can’t explain how overwhelming it was, how much he just played my body like an instrument, over and over on a whim. It’s almost like he was reminding me every second that I used to think I was a one and done girl, reminding me that he made me this way, made me crave his cock, made me cum over and over. I felt like I was just about hanging on, doing what he wanted, proving again that I was his.

I had lost track of where I was, what my cumming tally was. I didn’t have to worry. I knew he’d get me the fourteen. But today was all consuming, today was wanking for wanking’s sake, today was planned to keep me sexually on the edge for the entire day. And my body had no choice. My brain wasn’t going to make him stop, he wasn’t going to stop.

As my cunt came again, just by his fingers this time, he shot me a loving smile, before ploughing four fingers into my cunt again, vigorous, powerful. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, crying out as he milked my tired and overused cunt. I heard a “Just one more, slut” from his soothing voice, my cunt’s ordeal was nearly over.

He briefly stopped whilst he pulled me onto his lap, his erect cock impaling my already lubed asshole as I sat, his hands reaching round my body to both continue the four finger cunt fuck and grope and paw at my already tender tits.

The filth being spoken into my ear, the aching and throbbing of my tits, my asshole being stretched by his still enormous cock, his four fingers filling my cunt and abusing my clit as they fucked it. It overwhelmed me yet again, and I came, hard, extended, not even allowed to finish that orgasm until his fingers decided. He dragged it out. As I stopped cumming, I came up for air.

It wasn’t just fourteen orgasms, it was almost the entire day of being masturbated, groped, tits manhandled, cock in all three holes (often with neither of us cumming, just for the penetration). I couldn’t settle, couldn’t relax even for a second. I was kept on that sexual high all day, I was kept on a submissive high all day (even in the restaurant, he managed it, not least through the cum trickling out of my cunt all the time I was there, my blouse being slightly more open than I’d ideally have liked and the fact that I had a sizeable, slightly uncomfortable butt plug in). I was even penetrated whilst I prepared the other meals of the day. There was literally no rest.

And my poor nipples were punished early on. Manuscript clips, foldback clips, squashing each nipple, the pain of them being applied, fading to a dull throbbing pain, and then the pain of them being removed and the blood rushing back into them. And all the time I endured that, he was masturbating me, almost trying to wipe away the pain with ecstasy from my cunt. Meticulous. Loving. Endurance.

I lost track of time right throughout the day. I lost track of orgasms after the first couple too. The intensity was like nothing he’s ever done. So completely overwhelming. I felt I was fighting just to remain present in the moment, and sometimes I didn’t succeed. Sometimes I drifted away, only to be brought back by an orgasm.

And once I’d had fourteen, and they were fourteen hard orgasms too, once the time slipped past midnight, he put me to bed, intending me to be alone to recover. I cried. I didn’t want him to leave me. So intense had the day been that I wasn’t emotionally able to be alone.

So instead, he spooned me, gripping on to a tit as he often does. It was familiar. It was comforting. It was what I needed. I finally slept, happy, sated, owned, his.

His Late Night Panties Girl (Part Three)

27 February 2026 / / 0 Comments

Louise was bending over the university desk of my now husband, her arms folded on the desk, her tits swinging, his cock between her legs and buried deep in her cunt, fucking her with a perfect rhythm and a determination she admired.

She laid her head on her folded arms and settled in for the duration, her eyes looking at the mirror switching between her swinging tits and watching him drive into her, watching his muscles tense. He wasn’t quite rubbing where she needed, but she was pretty certain that was deliberate, that he was extending their fuck, as she knew if he got the position right, she would cum in seconds. But even without the rub, it felt soooo goood. Over and over, on and on, in perfect rhythm, he fucked her with power and style, her feeling his cock get even larger still filling her cunt and then making it feel cruelly empty, but only very briefly.

She felt a tiny bit of a throb, and felt him switch positions, only a few millimetres, but that was enough. He was hitting the spot. She knew it. She knew he was deliberately holding back. But she was ready. She wasn’t going to delay cumming any more. Those rubs were massive, they were perfect, they made her cunt start to clench in about 20 seconds, and as she clamped down on his cock as she started to cum, that clench made him spurt too. Over and over she came, and over and over he spurted, filling her cunt with him gooey cum, mixing with her flavourful cunt juices.

As his cock shrank out of her cunt, her tits were still oscillating a small amount, the result of the residual vibrations of their fucking.

He stood her up and they kissed, then she pushed him onto the bed and knelt with her legs either side of his head, but this time facing away from his feet, her cunt firmly locked over his mouth. As she looked down at him, with a big smile, she saw determination in his eyes, as his tongue started work clearing her cunt of their combined liquids, whilst all the time still looking at her tits. Those adoring looks and the previous manhandling made Louise love her tits.

Once she had enough of being licked out, she shuffled down his body and leant forwards, her arms locked straight holding up her body, her tits swinging almost touching his mouth. He didn’t need any asking, as she rocked slightly to her left, his hand brought her tit to his mouth, his tongue circling the nipple as his hand grasped and squeezed at the fleshy tit. After a few minutes, she rocked right, her nipple being cruelly ripped from his mouth, only to have another one hanging very near. His other hand repeated the torment of her tit as he sucked on her other nipple.

When her arms could take no more, she sat up and reached behind her body and felt for his cock, which was hardening nicely. Good, she wanted more cock, and since it had just cum, this time it would be a very long fuck. Exactly what she craved.

She got off the bed and knelt down next to it, her head leaning in to his cock, taking his hardening length in her mouth, her tongue tasting their juices, her head bobbing up and down, getting his cock just as hard as when he penetrated her those minutes ago.

When she took her mouth off his cock, he twisted on the bed and beckoned her to lay on it. After she did, he put his hand in between her legs and nudged it under her ass, lifting her lower half by her ass to position her exactly where he wanted. Then, he moved up the bed, holding his weight off her body but nudging his cock against her very slick messy cunt. She used one hand to part her cunt lips and the other to manoeuvre his glans in between them.

Pausing for a moment, he looked at her face. Her smile had gone, replaced with a lusty look in her eyes and a determination, almost willing him on. He needed no more encouragement, he just slammed into her cunt with all the drive he could manage, her empty cunt being quickly filled by a hard girthy cock. Her body moved up as he slammed, and she grunted as his motion was stopped by her body. He pulled out and slammed in again, each time her body moved a tiny bit, but rocked back as he withdrew.

She saw his eyes switch down to her tits, which were moving on a slight delay from her body, snapping up as her body stopped moving upwards and down after it returned to normal.

After about three dozen of these slams, he stopped, adjusting his arms so they were by her side between her body and her arms. They kept her tits from flopping sideways, so that as he lowered himself towards her face so that he could kiss her, her tits squashed against his chest. After one quick peck, he began rhythmic thrusts again, not slams this time, but nevertheless, making her cunt feel very full and then very empty with his cock. The kisses got longer and more frenzied, as their bodies connected by kissing, tits on his chest and cock in her cunt, three points of contact that really emphasised their whole bodies during this fuck. And they were both comfortable, so could maintain this fuck for ages.

She could feel her orgasm starting to build, and the relentlessness of his rhythm and the frenzy of his kiss meant the orgasm caught her by surprise, coming from nowhere to a flood in seconds. He broke rhythm to resume the slams, each slam milking a bit more orgasm from her, and when her orgasm subsided, he recommenced fucking to the rhythm, kissing like it was their last kiss, tits held up rubbing against his chest.

She almost immediately felt another orgasm building, but her cunt was sensitive now, and she really needed to get him to cum at the same time. She began squeezing down on his cock as he drove in, an action that was only going to reduce the time it would take her to cum, in the hope it would do the same to him.

And it was working. With each squeeze, she felt his cock get bigger and harder, she heard his breaths get shorter and shorter. Her focus on him meant that she didn’t realise how close to cumming she was, and when it broke, she cried out, clamping down on his cock, making it squirt cum. With each wave of orgasm, she clamped and released his cock, milking more cum out of it each time. He squirted twice more after she finished, all whilst kissing her.

They maintained the three points of connection whilst his cock was shrinking, and then, exhausted, she moved over on the single bed, and he lay down, leaning on the wall to give her a tiny bit more room. He put his arm round her as she snuggled into his body, and they both soon drifted off into a deep sleep, her thinking about how many times she’d have him fuck her, and also just a tad worried all this fucking would get in the way of their revision. She wanted her first.

His Late Night Panties Girl (Part Two)

21 February 2026 / / 4 Comments

Standing in front of my now husband, gently rubbing his cock, the cock Louise cleared of Kate’s cunt juices with her mouth only a few moments before, Louise’s tits were still on display, held up on the top edge of the bra and poking out of the top of her dress.

He was staring adoringly at her tits, at her nipples, which were getting harder by the moment. After a suitable time enjoying the display, he squatted slightly, grabbing the lower hem of her dress, and in one swift movement, he pulled her dress up and off over her head, revealing the bra, the tits being held up by it, unmatching panties and her stockings and suspenders. She lifted her arms above her head and posed for him, her immaculate hair free armpits in full view. He thought she looked radiant. She felt empowered, she felt amazing.

After admiring her for a few moments, he ordered her to strip. Playful, yet commanding.

She took her bra off and waggled her 30GG tits at him. He put his hands out and manhandled them for a good few minutes, in particular squeezing their full flesh and pulling at her already enlarged nipples. Just a little rough, he once again showed he owned them. She made those cooing noises again as he manhandled them. She liked it. Perhaps not strong enough, he decided to see if she really liked it.

She continued stripping, by slipping the white panties off and, because she wanted him breathing her smell, she scrunched the panties up again, pressing them against his nose (whilst having a hand behind his head). He was inhaling her fragrance, becoming intoxicated with the smell of her cunt. He was under her spell, under the spell of the intoxicating smell of her used panties. Once she’d had enough of that, she tossed those panties onto his floor with the others and pushed him back onto the bed.

She knelt either side of his head, facing down his body and pushed her cunt over his nose. He could smell how much she had been masturbating today, and he was really looking forward to tasting her cunt. But it was out of reach of his tongue, so all he could do was breathe in her smell. It was much more pungent than the white panties. She was really up for it. Ready to fuck. Slick with juices. And he was breathing them in.

With all her weight on his face, she reached forwards and took hold of his cock again, starting to masturbate it with a firm hand. Given he was already somewhat hard, she went fairly slowly, just moving enough to keep him hard and attentive, edging his cock whilst filling his nose with her smell. She was totally in control, and she had no plan for what happened next. She was so far out of her comfort zone.

He put his hands up and started working her out of sight tits again, pulling them, twisting her nipples, and then one hand went down to her clit, doing the same. All he could see was her back, he was working her by feel alone. Manhandling her tits made her coo. Manhandling her clit made her cunt moisten almost instantly. He held on to a tit to stop her moving away and furiously, viciously worked her clit, making her hips start to move quite quickly.

It wasn’t long before she came, caused by a particularly nasty twist of her clit, her pussy juice plastering his face. Finally leaving her clit alone, he took grasp of both tits again and squeezed and twisted them. Being rough with her tits felt so good to her. It disturbed her a bit that it did, and she didn’t know why.

Louise hadn’t really liked her tits until that point. Too big, too heavy, too hard to control. Now, that size, that heft was being controlled by him, twists, pulls and squeezes that were making her make noises she never had before, making her cunt moist with arousal.

He finally let go of her tits, putting his hands on her hips instead, and using them to move her body just a tiny amount down his face. Now, her cunt was within easy reach of his tongue, and he started feverishly licking at her outer folds, one hand on her ass holding her in position, one on her flaps holding her cunt open for his tongue examination.

As his tongue got deeper and deeper, it felt like his tongue was boring into her soul. She felt like a puppet, only instead of being on the end of a hand, she was on the end of his tongue. Her breathing got heavier and her cries louder as his licking intensified, all that only spurring him on to bore deeper into her cunt.

And when she was close, all it took was a few carefully chosen flicks of his tongue across her clit, and she came again, a shuddering, whole body shaking orgasm that left his face covered in her juices again. After cleaning her cunt up (and giving her body a chance to recover), she got up and saw his face absolutely painted in her cunt juices. She bent over him, tits hanging and wobbling, as she cleaned her juices off his face, sometimes kissing him and transferring the juices to his mouth with her tongue, and sometimes just swallowing them herself. Her mind went to doing that with Kate’s juices too, a lovely thought that almost immediately got her excited again.

Rubbing on his cock with her hands made her realise that now was the time, time for that cock to fill her cunt. She wanted to look at him really, but where he was on the bed was impractical for that. So, she turned round to face away from him, waggled her ass at him, and then lowered her cunt onto his cock. She felt his hands grab onto her hips and guide her down, her hand making sure his hard cock aligned with her dripping cunt. It felt so good to have his cock inside her again, and in this position, it was very deep.

She put her hands onto the bed either side of him and started using her arm and leg muscles to slide her cunt up and down his cock. He let go of her hips and pulled apart her ass cheeks, just watching her asshole as she fucked his cock.

All too soon, her pace started to slow, neither of them was anywhere near an orgasm. She was becoming more desperate trying to work out how to carry on, but it was taken out of her hands. As she slid up his cock, she felt his hands on her ass, providing gentle pressure to carry her cunt off his cock. Then, those same hands locked onto her hips and rotated her to face his desk. She got the idea, and bent over, folding her arms and resting them on the desk. She felt him nudge her legs apart and then felt his glans rub against the damp folds of her cunt.

He was still rock hard and drove straight in, filling her cunt and making her coo with pleasure. She glanced to her right and saw a mirror with her 30GG tits swinging in response to his drive, then starting to sway backwards and forwards in response to his rhythm. She could see him looking too, and she smiled, the view of her swinging tits probably being responsible for his enormously hard cock.

His Late Night Panties Girl (Part One)

7 February 2026 / / 4 Comments

Louise was worried. My now husband, the man who had fucked her last night, fucked her better than anyone before him ever had, the man who she had chatted with online every night for months, wasn’t online tonight. She was worried he’d decided he didn’t want her to talk to him, didn’t want her to fuck him. With sex so great, she wasn’t having that.

In stark contrast to the previous night, she had taken hours getting ready. The perfect clothes (just a touch slutty), the perfect hair (loose, but clipped out of the way so it wouldn’t brush her face as she fucked), the perfect make up (light touch), not a hair out of place anywhere (she had got her best friend to shave her cunt and ass, making it even smoother than last night). She had a cleavagey bra, hold up stockings and tiny red panties, pre-used off her floor. She thought the panties would really underline why she was there, and would look really nice on his floor instead. She sniffed them before settling on them: they had a slight fragrance of her cunt, despite not being worn for some time. The smell of her own cunt turned her on. Wasn’t it normally men that got turned on by the smell of a juicy cunt? Anyway, she hoped he would appreciate the sheer tininess of them, and given how excited she was, she thought they would have a stronger fragrance by the time he got to handle them, and she hoped he’d love it.

She strode purposefully across the campus to his college, her cunt moistening as she got closer to his college, closer to his cock. But she forgot it was after midnight, and the college was closed, access only for residents via the porters, and she wasn’t a resident.

The porter wouldn’t let her in and definitely wouldn’t tell her which room my now husband was in. She did briefly consider offering him a blow job to get the info, but soon ruled that out. There was only one cock she was getting in her mouth, and it wasn’t a porter’s.

And then she saw him, my now husband, her chosen fuck, walking towards his college at pace. In the dim light of the streetlamps, she saw his face light up when he saw her. He came up to her, put his arm round her waist with his hand grabbing a handful of ass, and pulled her close to him, kissing her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth. She kissed back, her tongue jousting with his. They kissed for a few minutes, before breaking and after he invited her in, they retreated into his college room, past the porter she didn’t need to blow, and past a row of girls on their knees giving blow jobs to a lucky row of male students sitting on a bench seat on the landing. She briefly thought about them joining the end of the row, but decided that was for another night – tonight, she wanted to be more private.

His room was tidier than hers, and she said so, although that was somewhat of a low bar. With a glint in her eye, she told him she thought there was something missing though. He looked confused, confusion that turned into smirking as she put her hands up either side of her skirt, removed her tiny red panties (whilst not flashing her cunt at him), and with an evil glint in her eye, she ceremoniously with a flourish dropped them on his floor, uttering how his room was now much better. He had a big smile she thought was infectious. This was such a good idea.

She sat on the bed next to him, snuggled up, telling him how she was worried he wasn’t online. She was heartened to hear the reason. He was with Kate, agreeing with her that they wouldn’t fuck in the future now that she had her boyfriend and he had Louise who he wanted to fuck a load more. The man snuggled up to Louise told her he’d freed himself up to fuck her over and over. If she wanted it.

Louise tried to act cool. But she wasn’t. She was overjoyed, her cunt craving his cock and his tongue. She really wanted it. Of course she fucking wanted it.

Losing her cool cover, she blurted out that she wanted fucking every single day. She wanted him cumming inside her every single day. And as late at night was their time, she thought they should fuck late at night. And then first thing in the morning after they wake up together. And then in a gap between lectures. She told him how she wanted to smell of sex in lectures, to have a messy cummy cunt in lectures. She told him she was his, her body was his, her cunt and tits were his, her orgasms were his, her panties were his, as long as he kept fucking her, as long as he kept her aroused, as long as he kept making her cum. She needed a lot of servicing, her cunt needed so much work, it was insatiable. She’d clearly thought about this more than he had. His plan was to just fuck her as often as he could, as many times a day as he could, but he realised she wanted more, that she needed more. He’d unleashed this sexual beast, this orgasming slut who liked her tits manhandled, her ass gripped, her cunt filled over and over. He’d unleashed that, their limited time together making it all the more frenzied, and he was determined to service her how she needed. He wanted that. She needed that.

But he was honest with her: he had just fucked Kate, a final goodbye fuck. Louise went from a bit pouty to very mischievous. Having told her that his cock had another fuck in it, and as it would be a second fuck, it would be long and hard, it dawned on her that his cock would taste of Kate’s cunt juices, and she found herself bizarrely wanting to taste Kate.

Louise grabbed at his cock through his trousers and squeezed and rubbed it a little. It started to spring into life. She undid his belt and button and dropped his trousers to the floor, his boxers following almost immediately. Then, she sat his on the bed, pushed his legs wide and dropped to her knees between his legs. Remembering what he told her about blow jobs, she pulled his tits up out of the bra and dress, using the bra to hold her tits up, and tweaking her nipples to get them hard.

Then, she put his cock to her lips, opening them slightly and running her tongue round his glans. Louise could definitely taste Kate, and she loved her taste. Whilst systematically licking and sucking every molecule of Kate’s taste off his cock, Louise found herself wondering what her cunt tasted like to lick out, and realising why men loved licking women out so much. She wasn’t bi or anything, but did find herself wanting to lick Kate’s cunt. She could dream.

She did dream as she finished working his cock with her mouth and tongue, but his ever-hardening cock woke her up out of the daydream, and jolted her into starting her plan. Operation Stake Her Claim.

She got up off the bed, opened her bag and pulled out a scrunched-up pair of white lace panties and pulled them on, again, not showing him her cunt as she did it. He was a little bemused, but his cock stayed rock solid. Why remove one pair and replace them with another?

These ones she had worn for most of the day, and had wanked herself in them a number of times during the day, dreaming of fucking him again. They were damp, ripe, and very fragrant. She hoped he’d smell how ripe they were, she hoped he’d realise how much she’d wanked into them, she hoped he’d breathe in her intoxicating aroma tonight and in the future. It was all him. She’d wanked over and over because of him.

You see, she had had a really strange idea before she left her room, an idea to put her stamp on his room, to put her claim on him, and it involved her panties. Those dirty panties on her floor. She thought if she wore them again (unwashed obviously – sod that for a lark) and deposited them on his floor, he’d have her dirty panties all the time, something to smell to remind him of her and so be horny all the time, ready to fuck her all the time.

She didn’t really know what she was doing, or why? What made her want to give him worn panties? I mean she loved her panties and she wanted him to love her panties too. She felt it connected her with him, and more than anything, for the time they had left, she wanted to be connected with him.

Although she couldn’t get the thought of tasting Kate’s cunt out of her head, and she didn’t want the second-hand taste of it out of her mouth. She’d never done anything with a woman, but she loved the taste, the idea. Perhaps there was chance of a taste of juicy cunt in the mix.

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