The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Author: KinkyMira (Page 23 of 30)

The Inevitable Drift Towards Polyamory

4 March 2020 /

In the days after I had realised that I was madly in love with Victoria and still madly in love with my husband, I had little sleep, as I imagined a wonderful situation where Victoria lived with us full time, where she was an equal partner in our relationship, where we got to all love each other, as well as all fuck each other frequently and mercilessly.

I knew there was a good chance that I was heading for a fall. I knew it wasn’t all that likely to work out like I imagined. After all, how likely is it for us to find someone who genuinely and whole-heartedly wants to fuck both of us, let alone that that someone would change her mind (from not wanting a relationship at all to wanting in on a polyamorous one). Still, I dreamed and wanked about it. I couldn’t help it. I was so excited.

I started reading up on all things polyamorous, to prepare myself for the conversations that lay ahead, and also to understand more about what I might be getting into. And there was a lot to take in.

One thing that is very clear is that it isn’t a quick decision to make, nor was it an easy one. Not many polyamorous relationships make it past early days, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin what we had. There are many pitfalls, much to discuss and many plans to be made.

When my husband and me decided to get married, it wasn’t a grand gesture, a lavish proposal on a beach in Tahiti or flashing on a stadium scoreboard. It wasn’t even a down on one knee thing. It was just a conversation where I mentioned we should probably get married and my husband said, yes, I think we should. Simple as that, and real. A lot of those gestures aren’t real, whereas this was sorting it out the way we always sort things out.

Well, it was similar with Vicki. Small steps without a grand design at the end of it, no big decision or question that needed answering, just an inevitable drift towards a special relationship, and a complicated one at that.

The biggest complication which was present right from the start was that this wasn’t a closed relationship. My husband and me both wanted to fuck other people (with full knowledge and consent), indeed often us both fucking the same person. Neither of us wanted to give that prize up when we brought Vicki into the family, and so it was some relief when Vicki agreed to apply our rules to all three of us.

It sounds somewhat more formal than it actually is. All we say is that all three in the group agrees to one or more of the group fucking someone else (someone specific on a person by person basis). We also have rules about sexual protection and tests that we all apply but given these are planned fucks (for demisexual reasons) and not random fucks, often things can be done to allow safe bareback (a preference for all three of us).

It has to be said that although the three of us had different paths to where we are now, the one thing we all had in common was lots and lots of bareback sex. Right through university (or before), through professional careers, all three of us enjoyed a lot of bareback sex, and we were lucky. Very lucky. None of us got any nasty STDs, and there were no pregnancies involved. In these days where you can get STD check-ups on a routine basis, there is now a lot less risk, and when demisexuality means you need to know someone rather than picking them up in a bar, you get a chance to plan and do tests in advance.

When it was just my husband and me, we planned to have people we could both fuck (hence Vicki), and we were always looking for the illusive man we could both fuck. I have to admit we didn’t really think anyone would turn into a full polyamorous partner, but such is our emotional attachment to Vicki that it was inevitable. But our intention wasn’t to find one person to fuck, it was to find a number. What happened with Vicki was very much not part of the plan.

Fundamentally, this is the continuation with a process that began ages ago, as my husband and I began to discuss our sexualities, our desires, our needs, and we realised we wanted to watch other people have sex, and then for us to actually have sex with other people. It has been a brilliant decision, although I realise not a decision that many relationships could take. Ours though has only been enhanced by it.

Although for me, Vicki went from being about sex to being about love. I think it is the increase in the amount of love I could give and receive that makes the situation appealing to me, especially as my nuclear family is toxic and we have little to do with them – the idea of a loving extended family, all of whom contribute to the whole is something many people have and I never have – it has always been about me and my husband, and here it was potentially being about someone else as well. Once I had put away the notion that in loving Victoria, I would reduce my love for my husband in some way, there were only positives for me.

I remember with fondness the day I told Vicki that I loved her. One weekend, when Vicki was down for her fourth weekend in a row (unusual in itself). My husband wasn’t home yet, and I was lying on the floor with Vicki’s cunt firmly planted on my mouth. My tongue was firmly probing her folds and tasting her delicious flavour, and I was staring lovingly up past her mound, her stomach, and her tits to her sweet face, which had gone from smiling to focussing on what my tongue was up to.

After I made her cum for the fourth time, she looked down into my eyes, with a twinkle and what looked like lots of love, and she asked me what I was thinking. She lifted her cunt off my mouth enough for me to speak, that brief pause was all I had to decide whether to go for it. I told her that I loved her and wanted to be able to do this virtually every day rather than a couple of times a month. 

Her smile slightly broadened as she lowered her cunt back down, saying she would like that, before mischievously adding that I needed the practice. Cheeky bitch.

But it was out there, and she hadn’t run away. As I was licking her cunt, I was thinking about how things may develop. It did at least provoke thoughts and start discussions, but the reality was that we were drifting towards polyamory anyway. Fundamentally, we did all feel the same, and whilst nobody wanted to move quickly, the direction of travel was pretty clear, and it wasn’t far from what I imagined.

We all know there will be more. As inevitably as fucking Vicki, there will be others. But we have the framework in place and are all totally on board. What amazing people they both are. What an amazing relationship we all have. And I know the best is yet to come.

What A Difference A Couple Of Years Make

17 February 2020 /

What a difference a couple of years make. It is Victoria here, and I thought I would write a post whilst Mira still isn’t up for writing much (although she has edited this post for me). She has been diagnosed as coeliac, has taken the gluten out of her diet completely and is now starting to make progress. Amongst other things, she is actively seeking sex now, which is a big improvement. She wanted a big reverse cowgirl session with her husband last night, and afterwards she wanted me to fuck her with a strap-on whilst we were both wearing butt plugs. I’m glad her kinky side is coming back!

Anyway, to the difference a couple of years make. Back then, I was undersexed, woefully lacking in orgasms and generally feeling sorry for myself. I needed sex, and yet I had a woeful record of choosing partners. It didn’t matter who I found; it always quickly went wrong somehow. That is what was great about Mira and her husband. It was just fucking great sex with no strings and no commitments.

But over time, we got closer. I found myself really looking forward to spending time with them and hated leaving them. It was so nice to be wanted and cared about. What I was really in awe of though was their relationship. Yes, there was an awful lot of sex, but their care and love for each other’s wellbeing was fabulous. They were both always looking out for the other one and working to make the other one happy. I found myself quite jealous and wanting that in a partner. I started out as a third-party fuck, but over a relatively short amount of time, I started to feel included and cared for. Over the months, I think we had all realised we had something special, but none of us were really sure what to do with it.

One thing it took me a while to get my head round was amount of sexual interaction they had. Whether it be passing each other in a corridor, sitting down cuddling, standing at a shop counter or at a kitchen counter, there is always groping or stroking going on – it is part of the reason Mira stopped wearing panties: to give him better access to her cunt and ass. If she’s sitting on the loo about to piss, he might come in and gently tip her head back and full tongue snog her or grab a rough handful of tit or even shove his hand down the toilet between her legs so that she pisses on his hand. Whilst this initially felt somewhat intrusive, I realised how loving it was and how it helped to keep them sexually connected. Their relationship seemed to be built on the other partner taking exactly what they want when they want, and the level of trust they have in each other to be able to do this is amazing.

It is a very special type of relationship, and I am incredibly lucky to be part of it, so, realising that I was totally at ease with it, I am now totally on board with this, and I decided to actively encourage it in their interactions with me.

Then, Mira’s health started deteriorating. You could see the love in his eyes as his kinky slutty bitch just wasn’t herself. She was totally selfless though, insisting on sexual activity for his sake, even though her body and mind wasn’t really up to it. They were doing positions that meant she could be in as little pain as possible, yet still get fucked. As a minimum, they had one face down on the bed anal session every day, and when I was there, she insisted me and her husband fuck loads to make up for her having less sex than usual. She “had to have her husband fully exercised”, and I returned the favour by making sure she orgasmed as much as she could, thus I spent many a happy hour licking her cunt – them buying that queening chair was so timely.

I did find Mira’s illness quite difficult to cope with at times. Apart from hating to see someone you love being in pain or discomfort (unless it is on the end of some spanking, in which case, you revel in it!), I did sometimes feel guilty that there I was pushed against a wall with her husband driving his rock-hard cock into my asshole, and she was relegated to watching. Of course, the reality was that she was in pain and her body was so sensitive to touch, she really wasn’t up for it, and she was perfectly happy to watch us to fuck like rabbits. She even sometimes commanded our sex from the side-lines which was fun, almost like a live webcam session.

Since all this gluten stuff started, I now feel like I’m an integral part of their family. Illness is problematic in itself, and it either pulls people together or drives people apart. Mira’s ill health has definitely brought us all closer together and I love being with them. I’ve spent virtually no time at home (bear in mind that is six hours away), so it was a natural step for me to give up my flat and move in. As I have a national remit at work, it doesn’t really matter where I am based, as I’ll need to spend a few nights a week in hotels. So, I am able to work going forward out of head office (which is a 30 minute commute away from Mira’s), and indeed, my company thought there were advantages to me doing so.

I rent a furnished flat at the moment, so all I have to bring down is my personal stuff, which I’m doing a bit at a time in my car. They have a small flat, so fitting my stuff in is difficult, but we are getting there. My under-bed restraints went straight on the bed, and he tested them out on me the first night with amazing effect. Mira isn’t too keen on being restrained, but I love being tied down and not being able to escape whatever thing is being done to my poor defenceless cunt or ass.

Whenever I’m with them, I’m always pantyless, but now I’m going to be there full time, I’ve given him all my panties to lock up with Mira’s. He has selected two pairs (my favourite pair and the pair Mira loves) for use for cunt stuffing, gags and for tying our hair up Sara Cox style, but we can never wear them as panties. I can totally see why Mira loves it so much – it does make me feel permanently naughty, and I find if so empowering to be in an important business meeting and to know I’m pantyless – I think it gives me an edge!

The final difference a couple of years makes is this, my sex life laid out on a blog. I never thought my sex life would be interesting enough to be blogged about, and yet here I am, having all my intimate details being laid out by my lovers, and I love it and I’m excited about it. So, the next time Mira is writing about how she’s opening my cunt to roll my clit in her fingers, or how she’s loaded a butt plug in my ass for us to go shopping, remember how much I love her sharing all the detail with you, and knowing it might be shared makes it all the more sexy!

They Think I Might Have Coeliac Disease

17 January 2020 /

It would explain a lot: why my health has deteriorated of late, why my health has been bad for 15 years, why I have all these disparate medical conditions seemingly with no common cause.

Over the last couple of months, my health has been getting worse, and I’ve been feeling less and less like having sex or being kinky. Not me at all.

My husband knows if I don’t have regular sex and intimacy, my mental health suffers, so he has fucked me every day (I insisted on it – I’m not letting our record go either), and kept me well supplied with orgasms, squirtings and spankings, but I certainly haven’t been on my full sluttiest form. Pain does that to you. Feeling like shit does that to you.

And I’m having to make myself feel worse for the tests. I’m having to crowbar gluten in at every turn to make sure the endoscopy gives a true result, and I’m struggling – it isn’t easy eating things you know will make you feel worse.

And I hate not wanting to fuck all the time. It really isn’t me. My husband has been an absolute star. He hasn’t pressurised me at all over the months, but when I’ve felt I could do something sexually, he’s jumped on it and made the most of it. We’ve been having anal most mornings first thing. Anal is the least painful position at the moment, and it made our challenge for the year quite easy too – we ended up doing 58% anal and 42% vaginal, smashing our target of more anal than vaginal.

But the most fabulous part of the last few months has been Victoria, who has been an absolute angel. What she signed up for was staying with us for Christmas and New Year (from 21st December to 6th January), a sixteen day fuckfest and our first experience of us living with each other for a longer stretch, rather than just weekends. After all, it is different living with someone for a longer period rather than just staying occasionally.

You see, it turned out that it wasn’t just me that was feeling our relationships deepening and our love growing. Vicki was slowly drifting away from Friends with Benefits and towards Live-in Lover, which is amazing because when we started, all she wanted was sex; she definitely didn’t want the whole relationship and partners thing. The live-in lover part was perhaps in more long-term thoughts, but we both saw a scenario where, at some point in the future, we all lived together, fucking liberally, and acting as love and support for each other.

Which is how we ended up here. Vicki had been down nearly every weekend for two months now, and it was still fabulous. So, it was time for a test, a solid sixteen day stretch of living together, when life would get in the way of sex. This is the only chance we had for a long test, so we had to do it. Of course, we had no idea my health would have a wobble, so it turned out it was a really good test of life getting in the way of sex

Over the sixteen days, Vicki made me feel very loved, with lots of cuddling, licking, sucking, and fingering and she made me orgasm every day, but it was with my husband that she came into her own. You see he fucked her a lot, over and over. Where we normally share him evenly, she mostly had him to herself. He was as relentless with her as he is with me when it is just the two of us. I don’t think she has ever been fucked by a man as frequently as in those couple of weeks.

And it was a joy to watch. Whilst I certainly wasn’t feeling sexy and didn’t want loads of action of my body, it was fantastic to be able to watch them fuck, to hear her scream with pleasure and to see the look on her face as he brought her to orgasm again and again.

You see very regular sex is very important for his performance. In our early days, my husband and I went through a patch of fairly irregular sex and sometimes only a couple of times a month and his cock didn’t stay as hard for as long, and his ability to cum multiple times almost went away. He turned mortal. But once we got back to every day sex, and then progressed to multiple times a day, he got his performance back, he got his longevity back and he got his rock-hard cock back.

I don’t want that slipping away again, so it was important that he got to fuck someone repeatedly in the break, so Vicki being here and craving cock was an absolute godsend.

Vicki got to see what having lots and lots of sex and kink was really like. Some people tire quickly of sex multiple times a day. Some get bored, some end relationships because of too much sex. It was not a trivial concern, especially in the context of my husband and me, who both seem to need more sex the more sex we have, and it has been like this for years.

I am happy (and very very relieved) that Victoria not only coped with the level of sex and kink, but she seemed to revel in it and crave more and more as time went on. Throughout the entire period, she never said no to sex, not even once. Regardless of how long it was since her previous fuck, how sore she was, or how tired she was, she always said yes. A slut after my own heart.

I think she has become addicted to the taste of my cunt, as we spent hours in my queening chair with her licking me out. I find it pleasurable, very relaxing and it makes me feel very loved. She just loves the taste of a nice juicy cunt, and seemingly mine. It reached the point that she had to use sex toys on me to keep my cunt nice and juicy, so she could carry on licking me. I didn’t complain – I loved the attention my cunt was getting from her tongue, so she could do whatever she liked.

I am so excited for the future. I have my coeliac test next week after which I can cut out gluten completely and hopefully can start to feel less shit. Vicki has rearranged some work stuff so she can spend more evenings with us in the run up to the test, which means I get to watch more amazing sex, my husband gets his cock suitably used and I get some TLC from my amazing lover.

I’ve had trouble writing since I’ve been so ill (in fact, my husband helped me a lot to get this post done). Having a cloudy mind is one of the symptoms of coeliac, so I’m hoping removing gluten allows me to focus again. I hope to be back writing blog posts more regularly in February or March. but above all, I want to feel less shit and more like the slutty, kinky, sex obsessed Mira I love being. Here’s to gluten being the answer.

A Love Of Spanking

25 September 2019 /

My husband sat upright on the chaise part of our sofa, and I bent over his knees and upper legs. My 34H tits hung down to the left side of his legs and my hands and elbows rested on the sofa on his left side (keeping my body horizontal). My feet touched the floor on his right, my legs spread so that my weight rested on his upper legs, and so that he had great access to my cunt. My white marble like ass was then proudly sticking up to the right, and his right hand gently stroked my ass cheeks.

The anticipation kills me every time. Just waiting the eternity for that first strike of his hand. I was ready. I wanted to be spanked. I needed to be spanked. This was a recreational spanking, a spanking for fun, not for control or discipline. We both spank each other, and today it is my turn to be spanked. I love the acts of contact, I love the attention my ass gets as he’s spanking me, I love the bright red ass in the mirror, I love my tits swinging in response to each contact and I love the throb that reminds me for many hours of what has happened to my poor defenceless ass. I even love that phrase “my poor defenceless ass”.

I felt his hand leave my ass and then a second later felt the full force of his hand landing on my right cheek. I sometimes count but didn’t this time. I wanted to focus on my ass. He hit his favourite spot, at the bottom on my cheeks in an up and under manoeuvre. The second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth all hit the same spot on alternating cheeks with increasing force. This was the start of the warmup before he moved on to the main event; to the implements he had chosen.

I knew the drill – we’ve done this a lot. I stay in position. If I happen to move by the force of the strike, I have to retake the position as quickly as possible. I need to not say anything other than numbers or to answer a question, and I need to muffle and stifle as much other sound as possible. On no account do I try to protect my ass, either by moving it or with my hands. Once I bend over, he’s totally in charge. He decides how many strokes I get and with what implements.

He got to twenty on each cheek and started rubbing my ass with his hand, a sure-fire signal that I was in for a long spanking. We have found that if he rubs my ass occasionally with the hand or paddle, it means that I can take significantly more strokes. (Most of the time I want a higher number of strokes, even if they are delivered with a less painful implement). The act of rubbing seems to rub the pain across my cheeks, allowing them to take more punishment.

After about 30 seconds of rubbing with his hand, he started again, each stroke as deliberate and forceful as the previous one, each stroke delivered precisely to that same area. I looked across at him and smiled at the concentration on his face. He enjoys spanking me as much as I love being spanked.

To deliver a good spanking is skilful, and over time he’s honed his technique to what gets me going. Slow and deliberate strokes, each delivered with a maximum force are much more effective than quick rhythmic strokes. The slowness gives the effects of the stroke time to take hold, helping to build that fire that denotes a good spanking.

He reached forty strokes with his hand on each cheek and again rubbed at my cheeks, before switching hands and rubbing my cheeks with his left hand and dropping his right hand between my legs to sample how wet my cunt was. He called me a slut because of how sticky a spanking made my cunt and he sucked my wet sticky juices off his fingers, before playing with my cunt for a bit. He wouldn’t let me cum, as if I did, a switch would flick in my head, and I wouldn’t want any more strokes. No, it was in his interest to keep me wet and excited, nearing orgasm but not getting there.

When he thought I’d had my cunt played with enough, he picked up my go to paddle. It is purple satin, with a hard side and a soft side, and the soft side was his next warm up phase.

The feeling of the soft side is different from his hand. It is a more even contact, with the force over a smaller area than the hand. He said my ass was starting to go a nice pink colour. He knew I always want a proper red, and he knew what he had to do.

I glanced up at the big screen on the wall. He had two webcams set up, one pointing at my tits (so that he could watch them swing away in time with each stroke), and another pointing square on to my ass and cunt (so that I could see first-hand how red my ass was without moving off my comfortable position).

The paddle contacted both cheeks at the same time, and we were back to slow deliberate high-power thwacks. He accelerated the paddle head all the way down and stopped its progress only with my poor ass. Twenty of those were followed by a rubbing of my cheeks with the paddle. The caress is different with a paddle too – it is rougher and less sensual – it is almost a warning of strokes yet to come. My ass was starting to sting now, but there was a long way to go before this spanking was completed. Once the thirty seconds is over, he started with the full thwacks again.

The final twenty with the soft side of the paddle led to more left-handed rubbing and right-handed cunt playing. I was very slick by then, and he spent a few minutes getting his hand sticky with my juices, then licking them off. If Victoria was here, her mouth would be licking and sucking at my cunt, but he didn’t want to move me to do so himself.

Once upon a time, that would have been enough of a spanking, but not now. I still have the final part of the warmup to do, twenty thwacks with the hard side, more ass rubbing and another twenty with the hard side. By this time, each strike with the paddle certainly got my attention, and my ass was getting a deeper pink all the time.

He took another chance to scoop my cunt juices out, whilst soothing my ass with his left hand. I knew I’d been spanked, and he judged that I was suitably warmed up, so it was time to start the main event. I was desperate for some cunt relief (but I wasn’t about to get an orgasm) and some ass relief would have been nice (but my poor defenceless ass was going to get more punishment not relief).

I was about to find out what he was going to use on my poor defenceless ass now. It was expecting more painful and more unforgiving. I was breathing quite heavily, a mix of my heightened sexual situation and the anticipation of the working over my ass was about to receive. The anticipation kills me every time.

It’s Like I’m Always On Heat

14 September 2019 /

When I first got with my husband, we had lots of sex. Over our first six months, we fucked an average of twice a day and we didn’t miss a single day over that time. But after that initial euphoria, once life started getting in the way, at certain times in my menstrual cycle I lost interest whilst at others I was insatiable. I would first jump him the day before my period started, expect to be fucked right through my period and then for around a fortnight after, right until I ovulated. Then my desire dropped off a cliff and at the same time, my PMT kept building and building. I was either a slut on heat or a PMTed up bitch.

I used to get so horny during my period that I needed a fuck no matter how much of a mess it made. Luckily for me, he loved it and was never put off by the sight, smell or taste; it was pretty much the only time I wanted him to go down on me, and I wanted his cock in my cunt on my heaviest days several times a day.

We had a good two years of that, but my PMT was getting worse month by month, until finally we had to make a decision. My GP suggested a Mirena coil might help to reduce the PMT, but it would also likely reduce the period and probably reduce how insatiable I was. It was a very hard choice: reduce the PMT, reduce the periods and risk having a lot less sex, or have a mega-PMTed up bitch.

In the end, we chose to have the Mirena. That was how bad it was.

It took the Mirena a number of months to bed in, and there were several consequences: the PMT was massively reduced, which was a relief for both of us. My periods stopped completely, which was lovely, as I hate the whole big panties and sanitary towels thing. My natural panty style at the time was thong, and I loathed having to wear anything else. But with no period meant no period sex. Sometimes things have a high price, and that was it.

The other thing that happened was that my desire for sex reduced overall. I really had to be in the mood, and that made my husband really have to work on me. He did, and we fucked an average of twice a week.

But fundamentally, that isn’t enough for either of us. Sex is a very important part of our relationship, of who we are as a couple. Touch is very important, and even that was slipping away. I would be lying if I said it didn’t start to cause a little friction between us. One night over a bottle of wine, we decided things had to change. But we didn’t really know how.

That night, we did make a first critical decision though. We had both fallen into a rut that we couldn’t be bothered to fuck. So we decided that if one of us wanted a fuck, we would fuck, unless the other one really didn’t want to. We took indifference off the table, and defaulted to fucking unless one of us actively said no. We actually still practice that to this day, and that proved a useful start back then.

Within a few weeks, we were fucking on average every other day, which was a great start, and the more sex I had the more I wanted. I knew my husband liked me being pantyless, and when my husband found out, he always wanted to fuck my brains out. When I went pantyless, it made me feel frisky and I really enjoyed the feeling and the freedom. I didn’t go pantyless that often, and I wondered if I could increase my amount of pantyless time without reducing the effects. So I started increasing my pantyless time, gradually getting to most days, if even for a short while, including most times I went out.

That worked really well. I was more and more frisky, and wanting to be fucked more and more. My husband started checking if I was pantyless, often by putting his hand up my skirt when I was in the car, and he took to making me cum when we were parked somewhere shortly before we arrived at our destination. I loved it, and I never objected to his efforts.

It was around this time that I had started to reliably and slowly lose weight, but my body confidence was still zero. My husband was working on that. He got me to try on more figure hugging clothes, clothes that really showed my curves, clothes that flaunted the tits that were important in him first noticing me, and the dresses I showed an interest in, he bought for me, with me ending up with a number of very shaped dresses that I loved. Banishing unsexy clothes had an effect, so I began wearing stockings and suspenders more, as that always made me feel sexy.

By this point, we were back to fucking daily, and our relationship was much better. I think my husband would have been happy at that, especially as his ability to read me was getting better and better, and therefore so was the sex.

But my mindset was changing. I loved feeling more horny more of the time. I loved how it made me want to fuck again and again.

I decided to up the ante – I decided to go pantyless over that one Christmas as not only a treat for my husband, but to see if the sexy feelings it gave me wore off. They didn’t, and I’ve never worn panties since. Not only that, but over the following months, I also got rid of all sorts of clothes that covered my cunt, like trousers and leggings, and had an excuse to buy more figure hugging dresses and stockings, including thick woollen ones for the cold, and we sourced my proper metal clipped suspenders.

With snow on the ground, thick stockings and my cunt seemingly having an unstoppable source of heat (meaning it never seemed to get cold), I felt incredibly sexy and naughty. It was during this time that we started more regularly fucking multiple times a day, and we both realised that we had more and more appetite for sex, and for interesting sex and kink.

In our early days of exploring kink, it was always a hot and cold thing for me; sometimes, kink was a no-no, as I wasn’t in the mood, and sometimes I was uber-kinky and it was all I wanted to do. But as I had turned into this always horny slut, I was finding I wanted kink more and more, and I wanted to expand kink from being part of a sexual encounter to including little bits of kink into our daily lives. For example, me crouching over his mouth and pissing into it seemed as natural as making the bed, us spanking each other’s asses seemed as natural as doing the gardening and me pegging him with an enormous strap-on seemed as natural as me doing some crocheting.

What I have done (very intentionally) is to do a number of things that make me horny, feel very sexy, and that encourage multiple small bits of kink, all as part of my daily life. This is an attitudinal switch and is over and above our many prolonged sex sessions. I’ve turned myself into a slut who is craving sex and kink all the time, and who is only truly satisfied when I get it. It’s like I’m always on heat, and yet I’m not, because of my Mirena, and I fucking love it!

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