The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Author: KinkyMira (Page 29 of 32)

Fucking Our Friend Victoria (Part Two)

7 November 2018 /

A rather tousled looking Victoria stood in the doorway to the kitchen. She was quite a sight. Gone was the perfectly presented executive and instead was a recently fucked slut. She was naked from the waist down, with cum evident round her cunt. Her hair was all over the place, and she had a glow about her and a mildly smirky grin; she clearly enjoyed that fuck against the wall from my husband about twenty minutes ago.

I was standing in the kitchen preparing food. She came up behind me and said that my cunt hadn’t had enough action yet, and that she was about to sort that. She unbuttoned and removed my blouse and bra, to reveal my 34Hs to anyone looking in through the window. Then, she pressed a little at my shoulders to bend me over and she slid my skirt up over my ass, gently nudging my feet further apart with her feet. The anticipation was delicious!

She set about working two and three fingers into and out of my cunt, her thumb contacting with my asshole as she worked. She sped up and got more vigorous (and my husband reported she was biting her lip in concentration and determination). It didn’t take me long to get near, and as I felt my cunt start to orgasm, she removed her fingers (with a flourish apparently) and my cunt went from feeling very full to very empty. After a good few seconds of unfilled cumming, she returned her hand and built me up again, repeating the withdrawal flourish. She made me cum like this a total of five times, each time starting my cunt off full and leaving it empty as I came. I did orgasm hard each time, and yet it felt somewhat cruel to not allow me to cum against her fingers.

I looked round to see my husband and Vicki both looking very happy with her efforts, as she slowly rubbed at my clit and asshole after my five orgasms. I told her that she was mean to not let me orgasm full, and she said she’d see to plenty of filled orgasms later, but she didn’t want to totally satisfy me now. Bitch. Absolutely right of course, but still a bitch!

We spent the next couple of hours snacking and chatting about sex and sexuality, learning lots about each other, and looking at and touching each other’s bodies. We didn’t want to overdose on food, as this might impede the sex. We also stopped my husband from having anything to drink, and he knows exactly what that means.

I knew Victoria had been looking forward to one particular kinky activity ever since I spoke to her about it. She seemed to be obsessed with it. Ever since I told her that my husband had become my favourite toilet, and that he would drink my piss directly from my pisshole, she had wanted to try it. Well before she arrived, she had already asked whether I minded her trying it, and I had decided that I would like her to. I love my favourite toilet, and I wanted to see if she did too. This would be the first time anyone else had used my favourite toilet, and both my husband and I knew she wouldn’t be able to go a whole night without trying it out: she would need a piss, and she would want my husband to lie on the floor and drink it.

During those two hours, she took on quite a volume of liquid, and you could see from how she was fidgeting in her seat that she was becoming quite desperate. Eventually I took pity on her and asked her if she wanted to use the toilet, and I offered to demonstrate how it worked. I had enough piss in my bladder for the demo: my husband laid on the floor with a pillow under his head, I knelt with my legs either side of his head and lined up my cunt over his mouth. I talked her through how to line up and how to regulate her flow to enable him to swallow it all – he hates to waste a drop. He attached his mouth over my pisshole, and I began to release my stream of piss. He eagerly sucked at my piss and once I’d finished, he licked me dry, but I got up before he licked me to orgasm. I thought I’d leave his tongue for Vicki. I also talked her through the code for his commands – simple taps on her ass which tells her whether to slow down, speed up or stop.

Victoria then assumed the position, with her cunt lined up over his face. His tongue licked across her cunt and he cleaned his cum off it. She looked down past her 32GG tits into his eyes as he looked back. She said she hoped he was thirsty and before he could answer, she lowered her cunt down until he locked round her pisshole. She was intently looking at his face as she released her stream. Her face was covered in joy and contentment as she emptied her bladder. He was directing with the ass taps, but he seemed to be keeping up with her stream. She pissed for a long time, demonstrating a large capacity bladder. When her bladder was totally empty, my husband started flicking his tongue across her cunt, tasting her juices and bringing her close to orgasm.

As she did so, I noticed his cock, pointing slightly towards Vicki, but mostly vertically and very hard. Breathlessly, and close to orgasm, Vicki suggests I ride it anally. What an exquisite idea. I grabbed the bottle of lube we always keep in the lounge and lubed myself up as best as I could. Then I crouched over his cock and lowered myself onto it. Impaling yourself anally on a cock is never easy to achieve, and it took a couple of goes and lots more lube, but eventually, his rock hard cock slipped into my ass, and expanded a little further, as his cock realised it was in his favourite place.

Just as I achieved the ass impaling, my husband brought Vicki to orgasm. Her cries were quite loud and her orgasm was strong. She climbed off to rotate, and I saw a brief flash of his cum covered face. Her cunt was now lowered onto his mouth the other way round with his nose in her ass crack. She leant forward and met with me doing the same. We kissed very passionately, and Victoria then slipped her three fingers into my cunt again, and vigorously worked on my clit, filling my cunt as she went.

That was the first time in a long time that I had been filled in cunt and ass with flesh. (I’ve done it loads with toys and love it). What with her working my clit and cunt, and my husband’s hard cock in my ass, I was very quick to cum, and this time, she left my cunt stuffed with her fingers for me to orgasm against. She warned me that I had five filled orgasms to have, and she delivered, whilst all the time, having her cunt licked by my husband (and me having his cock in my ass). His tongue finally gave out at about the same time as I had my last orgasm.

It was getting late, so we retired to bed to get some sleep; my husband in the middle of our Super King-sized bed, me on his left as always and Vicki on his right. Vicki and I were both orgasmed out, and were totally exhausted, so we both got to sleep quickly, snuggled up in my husband’s arms.

The Power of Intimate Scent

29 October 2018 /

My husband loves it when I smell of sex. You know the smell – it is unmistakable, and my husband is always very happy when I smell like that. He likes me to go out and about doing normal tasks like shopping or having a meal, whilst still smelling of sex.

I’m certain everyone can smell it. Of course, even if they do, nobody ever says anything. It is however quite a turn on going round, wondering who can smell sex in the air and who can work out it is emanating from me; I really don’t mind the world knowing I’ve recently been fucked. Yes, I love it when I smell of sex too.

Smell is a very powerful sense and for us, smell has a very close link with sex, arousal, and attraction. In today’s modern world, our sense of smell is bombarded by air fresheners, washing and cleaning products and all manner of other chemical fragrances. For health reasons, I’ve had to leave all that behind, meaning that neither my husband nor I use any sort of fragrance in any product ever. What doing that has unmasked are natural and arousing smells, smells that are a turn on, smells that are comforting, smells that added to our attraction to each other.

I started liking and being turned on by the smell of sex and the smell of my cunt and juices when I first started masturbating, although the joy was tempered somewhat my being wary of my mother smelling and having a go at me (because sex is a bad thing, don’t you know?). I always wanked into a pair of my panties, and I kept them in a resealable plastic bag, so that I could smell them whenever I wanted and to ensure that my mother didn’t have a chance to smell them. I would find places to masturbate that wasn’t at home: friends’ houses, shopping centre toilets, pub toilets, the local park, anywhere she wasn’t and would not be able to smell it on me. This early panty sniffing and cunt stuffing was well before I knew these terms existed.

Once I escaped from the clutches of my mother, I was able to masturbate more freely. When I was at university, I was masturbating numerous times every day, and I was inhaling from my damp panties regularly. I still used to wank in random places, as I enjoyed it, so I spent a lot of time smelling of sex. I even had a chance to smell other women’s panties, as during our experimental phase, we were masturbating in groups at parties or study sessions in our bedrooms. They were happy times, and my love of cunt smell and the smell of sex was firmly established.

Coming forward to my then new boyfriend (later my husband), and within weeks of us starting to fuck, he was sniffing my panties; he would sometimes take my panties off me and inhale deeply from my gusset, a simple act that always made his cock rock hard, and an act that made me very happy. It was obvious he liked the smell of my cunt too, and indeed, so it turned out, the smell of my ass. I always wore a thong, so the gusset was always tight against my cunt and the rear strip of fabric buried deep between my ass cheeks, gently nudging my asshole, meaning it would be absorbing my intimate smells all day.

He likes it best when I have a strong smell, so after I have been exercising is popular. When I wore panties, the rear strip of fabric and the gusset were both soaked in my sweat, and instead of getting changed as soon as I got home, I took to keeping them on until he was able to take them off me. My panties often ended up sealed in a bag for later use, and he proceeded to bury his face between my legs and inhale my aroma; it was as if he found my smell intoxicating – it was like he was drinking in my smell. It was a simple thing I could do to turn him on, and I have to admit I don’t understand why some women have a problem with it. Why would anyone not love their partner craving and taking in their intimate smell?

Similarly, he likes smelling my cunt before I have a shower – he always has preferred me to be a little manky down there rather than sparklingly clean. It is a fine balance between kink and hygiene, but I like to indulge him when I can. My favourite position for doing this is to sit astride his face with his nose buried between my cunt lips. The smell of my cunt completely overwhelms his sense of smell and I’ll often apply my mains-powered wand to my clit to make myself cum on his nose. I have a hard time cumming without moving, so this is a real challenge for me, but to overwhelm his sense of smell, I have to keep his nose fully buried in my lips. To help me to not move, he firmly holds around my waist, whilst I focus on the sensations coursing from my clit through my cunt. It is very special and very intimate. Often such arousal by intimate smell is closely followed by him licking my cunt and ass crack, so he can enjoy my flavour as well as my smell.

I am incredibly lucky to have experienced the overwhelming of my sense of smell with our friend Victoria’s cunt. She fully buries my nose between her cunt lips and cums over and over again with a wand. It is totally overpowering, and she loves seeing me almost delirious with her cunt smells and juices. I can now totally understand why my husband loves it so much.

He too has had the joy of having his nose buried in Victoria’s fragrant and juicy cunt and has enjoyed her slick of juices deposited all over his face. He is right in how he describes our cunts as being very different to have your nose buried in, but he is addicted to both. Victoria also has had her nose buried in my cunt and loved the fact that my cunt smell was quite strong, and I am nowhere near as wet as she gets. Victoria also leaves us each some panties soaked in her cunt juices, so we can inhale her smell between visits, something we both love to do.

My relationship with my husband’s smell is slightly different. I get a lot of comfort from his smell, in particular, the smell of his cock and balls. I have found that this smell calms me down if I am anxious, comforts me if I am upset and reminds me that I am loved. I know many women get such comfort from the smell of a t-shirt, but that does nothing for me. It has to be the smell of his cock and balls, either in person or from an as-yet unwashed pair of his thongs and that is so comforting and calming.

My favourite position for smelling his balls is a position I used to feel was somewhat degrading. With me lying on my back on the floor, he lies face down with his face around my cunt and his balls wedged up against my nostrils (and his cock down my face). In this position, his smell is strongest and the most enjoyable and calming.

When I was going through a tough time over the summer, I asked him to leave a thong with a really strong smell, so he wore one all weekend for me, starting clean on Friday and wearing it until his shower on Monday morning. That really strong smell that got me through the rest of the week (bagged between usage to preserve the smell). It really was amazingly calming, and in the past, where I may have had to resort to the occasional diazepam, inhaling deeply from his thong was enough.

Similarly, when he went away for work, I always used to pack him one of my used thongs sealed in a bag, so that he could smell my cunt and ass whilst he was away. I always wore mine for three days too to make sure it was strongly scented, and he loved that, even though he was many miles away, he could still regularly inhale deeply from my bagged fragrant panties and smell my cunt and ass: it was similarly comforting to him.

When I stopped wearing panties ten months ago, we needed to find an alternative solution to allow him to take my smell with him. So, I revealed my penchant for cunt stuffing instead; in this context, we stuffed my cunt with a piece of fabric, an unbleached cotton square. We found these absorbed my cunt smell much quicker being cotton and being internal and these were often damper too, which he loved, especially if I masturbated with it up there. I sometimes put a cotton strip down between my ass cheeks as well, so he can still take my ass smell with him too.

Smell is an incredibly potent sense, and our smells are a source of comfort, arousal, and calm for each other. It is something so simple and yet so powerful.

Sleepy Anal and How It Helped To Improve My Mood

18 September 2018 /

It has been a busy few months, what with new opportunities, and life in general. There hasn’t been much time for sex and given a choice between writing about fucking and actual fucking, I am afraid that actual fucking wins every time. I’ve got a cunt and an asshole to fill and a husband with a girthy cock to fill them, so I’m making the most of it. After all, we’ve got records to uphold.

I still haven’t worn any panties in nine months, and we’ve still fucked at least once every day since mid-December. I’m particularly proud of those, especially the last one, which has been really difficult to maintain at times, given how busy we have been. We probably owe our continuing record to something my husband has perfected, the sleepy anal fuck.

It started one morning when he woke up with a rock hard cock. I was face down with my ass uncovered, and he really wanted to lube up my asshole and slip his cock in. He didn’t though, as it seemed a little rapey given we’d never spoken about it, and without waking me, he wouldn’t have my consent. I love him so much for that – a lot of men would have ploughed on regardless.

Anyway, whilst he was cunt fucking me later in the day, he was talking about what he saw and what he wanted to do to my poor asshole. We’d never done anything sleepy sex wise, but I knew someone who loved it, because of its dreaminess and unreal feeling. So, I told him next time he was in that situation, he was to give it a go (unless I pushed him off or showed signs of distress).

A few mornings later, I awoke and was aware of a fabulous dream where I’d been ass fucked for quite a long time. I felt so relaxed and that sort of happy you only get from a dream, and I felt tremendously loved. I put my hand round to my asshole, and sure enough, there was the sticky evidence of lube round my asshole. It wasn’t a dream. He really had fucked my asshole, and he managed to do so without waking me from my dreamy state (which is quite an achievement in itself).

That dreamy ecstatic feeling didn’t leave me all day. I only had fuzzy memories of the fuck, so I was keen to hear from him (when he got in from work) what had actually happened. He said rather than tell me, he’d demonstrate on me, if I would pretend to be asleep. Any excuse for an ass fuck!

Anyway, he stripped me off and loaded me onto the bed in roughly the right position, and I closed my eyes and let him start. It was slightly weird, as we’re pretty chatty during sex, but this was quiet. He slightly moved my position and began lubing up my asshole. I then felt the tip of his cock nudging against my hole, as he started to push in. I couldn’t help but smile as he began a very slow and deliberate fuck. He was on top of me and was trying to hold his weight off me (more than he would if I was awake). As he put his mouth towards my ear, he started whispering things, like how much he loved me, how greedy my asshole was and how much cum he was going to deposit. He was so gentle, careful, and yet firm and deliberate. He’d clearly been planning how best to fuck me and not wake me, and it worked well.

It lasted about forty minutes before my husband exploded and dumped a massive load of cum inside my ass. I actually wondered if I was starting to drift off then, as I had a dreamy sort of happiness. He withdrew and just left my ass is a mess – my way of knowing what he had done whilst I was in my dreamy state.

Sleepy anal is unlike anything else we’ve tried in how it makes me feel. I love the feeling of sleepy anal, the fuzziness of the memories, the trying to work out if it was real or not. I love that he deliberately doesn’t clean up my asshole, so that I had something to feel when I put my hand round – he thought it was important that I knew that I had been ass-fucked.

On several occasions and because of the heat, the early morning sleepy anal fuck was the only sex we had on that day. That kept up the record, as well as exercising my asshole and my imagination. But getting a fuck in early also meant there was much more chance for a second fuck in the day too.

You see, I’m horny a lot at the moment. We have busy lives, so only normally get a couple of hours together of a weeknight. During that time, we fuck and are generally kinky and filthy. Of a weekend, we often fuck twice a day (or sometimes more if we can), but we’ve never found a way to fuck more during the week, without him waking me up. We never thought of this, and yet it is so obvious really. I wake up with a warm fuzzy and loved feeling, and it gets our average up to near twice a day.

But far more important than keeping up the record is my mood. We worked out a long time ago that my mood and mental health deteriorate if I’m not getting fucked regularly, and the longer I go, the lower I get. My husband sometimes jokes that he’s giving me my medicine, but actually, it is very serious. The more I’m fucked, the happier I am; the less I’m fucked, the lower my mood gets. I had a patch of low mood over the summer, despite daily fuckings, but I quickly pulled out of it this time; at times in the past, it has been very bad. I put that down to the daily fucks, and to sleepy anal, which sets my mood better early in the day.

My husband takes his responsibilities of keeping me thoroughly fucked and making me feel loved very seriously, and this year has been my best year since we’ve been together mood-wise. I think that it is in no small part down to our fabulous sex life – it is 261 days into the year, and (thanks to my husband’s diary), we know we’ve fucked 417 times (as well as being kinky at other times). We averaged 10 fucks a week early on, but sleepy anal has allowed us to get our average nearer 13 fucks a week. If we get the average up a little more, we should get to 600 fucks in the year, and that is definitely our target now. I was convinced I’d get bored of sex, that it wouldn’t be special because of the volume, but as yet, that hasn’t happened. The more sex I have, the more I want, and the quality hasn’t deteriorated either; if anything, it is better now than it was a year ago. I realise some people have real issues with this amount of sex, but in our case, our sex drives are now pretty well matched. We want to fuck or be kinky or filthy all the time.

A Love Of Wetting

11 May 2018 /

I vividly remember the first time. My husband in the bathroom told to sit on the toilet, me a couple of feet in front of him lifting up my skirt, revealing that I was wearing a pair of full cotton briefs. He’d never known me wear anything other than a thong or nothing (apart from for my period), so he was quite surprised. As his gaze fixed on my panties, I began to slowly release the contents of my pretty full bladder. A quick powerful spurt made a decent wet spot right up front, and my husband got the idea what I was up to. I saw his eyes welded to the damp spot.

I knew he’d enjoy it. It was his idea in a fantasies discussion a few months before. At the time, I said I didn’t think it was my thing. But I kept thinking about it. I kept wondering what was in it, why anyone would do it?

It didn’t really appeal as I had issues when I was younger with bed-wetting and the thoughts of doing similar now didn’t exactly make me feel overly sexy. However, over time, I came to realise that this was one of those historic demons I needed to slay.

I didn’t know if I was going to repeat it, so I did my research, working out what fabrics and garments to use. But I didn’t experiment, I just shared my first attempt with my husband.

So, a small damp spot slowly got bigger and my piss started to drip from my panties. I didn’t have the bladder control I have now, so I couldn’t keep a slow stream forever, and soon the dam burst, and my piss fired out of my pisshole and literally poured out of my panties.

All too soon it was over. My bladder was empty and the lower parts of my panties were soaked.

After I gave him a good few moments to take in the view of my wet panties, I dropped my skirt and told him I was going to cook dinner whilst he cleaned up my piss. Then I left him to it.

A few minutes later, he loaded some piss soaked towels into the washing machine and set it going. Then he lifted up the back of my skirt and gazed at my piss soaked panties stretched over my ass. The warmth had now gone, and it was colder and felt wetter.

I intended to remove my panties and clean up before dinner, but my husband prepared my chair with some towels, so I lifted up my skirt and sat with my panties on the towels, eating my dinner still in my piss soaked panties.

Only after dinner did I shower, and then he fucked me very thoroughly.

So clearly he enjoyed it, but I have to admit I rather enjoyed it too. It felt incredibly naughty, and I did like the warm feeling it gave. As I started to doze off in his arms, my cunt filled with his cum, I realised I was looking forward to doing it again. I was thinking about slowing down my flow, and about how different garments and fabrics would behave.

It was only a few days later that I was home alone working and I wanted to finish the bit I was writing before I pissed. My throbbing bladder didn’t allow me to finish it, as thoughts of wetting came into my head, and I started thinking of which garment to try. I was in leggings and a thong, so I decided that would do. I stood in the bathroom in front of the full length mirror and released my piss as slowly as I could. I could see why he was mesmerised. Watching how the damp patch grew was fascinating. I loved the warm feeling as my piss spread across the fabric of the leggings. I realised that not only was wetting a great activity to share with my husband, it was also a great solo activity that I could enjoy if I was feeling kinky.

And so began my love affair with wetting. Over the next few months, I did a number of tests, and I came up with a few basic rules. Mesh panties are pretty useless for wetting, as the piss goes straight through them. Thongs aren’t much use either, as there isn’t enough fabric for the damp patch to spread. Cotton-based fabrics are much better, as the piss can travel along it and spread out a little. I found that thicker fabrics were more satisfying, as there was more resistance to the piss falling away, so it tended to travel along more keeping more wetness close to the skin – denim is a good example of this.

I read online that most people thought wearing panties under clothes produced a better wetting feeling, but, to be honest, I got the best feeling with no panties and tighter clothes. I bought a second-hand pair of skin-tight jeans; the sort I need to pour myself into. They produce one of the best wetting experiences I’ve had. The way the piss travels around inside the denim means you get a good wet coverage, especially along the underside of the ass where it meets the legs. The visual difference between wet denim and dry also makes it very good for watching.

With abandoning panties as I now have, my husband found shorts made of cotton, viscose and lycra. They are quite thick, but tailored to hug closely to the body, including down the ass crack and between the cunt lips. Without wetting them, they are slutty as fuck. But they are amazing when I wet them. They are light grey when dry, so dark grey when wet, and the thickness of the fabric makes the piss spread and move around inside them. When they are dry, you can see the shape of everything. When they are wet, you can see even more, and we have three pairs to keep us going. We’re keeping the jeans though, purely for wetting.

Another type of wetting that I do is to wear a long skirt (and nothing underneath) and to just piss. My legs and shoes get soaked, and so does the skirt, but it is quite a subtle form of wetting, and can be carried out outside with relative ease. In a particularly kinky variant, my husband lies with his head under my skirt and gets a face full of piss. In one of my favourite variants, I sometimes put my stockings and suspenders on, stand up squeezing my legs tightly together and then release my piss. The way it runs down the legs and leaves wet streams down the stockings in very appealing.

I enjoy wetting when I have a full bladder, but my husband sometimes likes me to be more extreme, getting me to indulge in a practice called desperation. That is where you hold on to your piss for so long that it becomes uncomfortable and even painful. I used to think that the stereotypical cross-legged crotch grabbing shots were for show, but as I’ve found out, if you are that desperate, those body movements happen naturally. The feeling as you no longer have to contain your piss and it erupts from your body is pretty amazing, and the relief is wonderful. I find I am so consumed in those feelings that I forget to look at the spreading wetness until my bladder is empty.

At the moment, I’m doing solo-wetting at least twice a week, and wetting for my husband a couple of times a month. I love it, and all those feelings from younger times have been banished. When I’m wearing clothes streaked with piss, I feel naughty, kinky and happy.

I Love The Word Cunt

25 April 2018 /

You may have noticed whilst reading this blog that I use the word cunt a lot here. It is my favourite word for so many reasons. It is so rare for a single word to be able to enrage, excite, upset, or offend – no other word can do the same. It is such a simple word, one syllable, crisp sound, straight forward spelling and yet it has so much power. Cunt is one of the few remaining words in the English language with a genuine power to shock.

I try to use cunt as much as I can both in the context of a vulgar word for female genitalia and as a term of disparagement, even though it is generally regarded as unsuitable for normal public usage. As a term of disparagement, it is second to none. Sometimes cunt is just the only adequate word to describe a person, it is the only word that contains the venom!

I realise that this is now the more common usage, but I think the word is best used for female genitalia. I use pussy in fairly polite company, but I use cunt as much as I can (including in this blog). I much prefer it. I love the way it sounds; I love the slight harshness of the word. I’m with those that think of cunt as a positive word, a badge of honour to be celebrated. I don’t subscribe to the belief that it is a disparaging term that reinforces a dehumanisation of women by reducing them to body parts. No, I’m proud of my cunt, and I’m proud to use the word cunt as frequently as I can without causing problems.

It is also the single word that gets my cunt instantly wet. My husband can lean over and whisper in my ear how he is going to fill my greedy cunt later on, and within seconds, I’m wet, horny, and looking for a way to get alone with him. It was the use of a whispered cunt that led to me removing my panties for him for the first time. It was the use of a firmly spoken cunt that led to me first opening my legs and letting my husband lick me. It was the use of a loudly spoken cunt that led to me being fucked over a fallen tree in a remote part of a forest. It was the use of a whispered cunt that led to the first time we fucked on someone else’s sofa.

I also use a lot of other cunt-based words and phrases. Firstly, vagina or vaginal are often inaccurate as terms which often should refer instead to a vulva rather than a vagina. That inaccuracy annoys me. I hate other euphemistic terms like snatch and clunge even more. I find vajajay to be mildly amusing, but don’t really use the term much. Pussy is the best of the rest, but I would happily use cunt exclusively if society would permit.

Secondly, the use of vaginal in phrases is inconsistent with the short crispness of the words anal and oral. Cuntal however is a term that is in keeping, and works seamlessly in all cases, (for example, anal sex, cuntal sex and oral sex). I specifically like cuntal and the cuntal region as they are clearly defined even if you have never heard the terms.

Thirdly, terms such as fuck are not specifically cuntal by nature. For us, a fuck could be almost any penetrative sexual act. (For example, if I’m going to fuck my husband, that means a strap-on buried in his ass). Therefore, to correctly specify the type of fuck, the word cunt is again better than vagina (e.g., ass fuck, cunt fuck and mouth fuck).

The first time I heard my husband use the word cunt was in the early days of our relationship when he said he wanted to do a cunt inspection. It felt so good to have him intimately inspect me in great detail, as I did (and still do) love any touch of him on my body, but I was also pleased by his use of the word cunt. When he saw the happiness and enjoyment I got from the cunt inspections, he added cunt maintenance (and later, ass inspections and ass maintenance too). We both still enjoy doing them all on a regular basis, and now we have Victoria, he has second opportunity for inspections and maintenance, and he sometimes has a cunt buffet (where he has two cunts available to lick at the same time and he can switch backwards and forward between the two). Unsurprisingly, he likes those!

As we are both very comfortable with the word cunt, we use cunt-based phrases regularly. He’s particularly pleased when I have a cunt leak; he loves the mixture of his cum and my cunt juice oozing out of my cunt given my pantyless state, especially when I am out and about. Where I can, I like to leave the mess for him to clean up, which he is normally eager to do. I’m not sure he realises the amount of willpower it takes for me to have a messy cunt, as historically, I didn’t really like being left in a messy state and would go almost immediately to clean up. He seems intent on making me have a messy cunt as often as possible, and all the practice is making it easier to leave it for him. He delights if I have a cunt pearl, which is the first drop of semen secreting from my cunt in a cream pie. He’s a very skilled cunt licker, after he was extensively trained in the task by some girls at uni. I also frequently do cunt skimming, where I wear no panties (obviously) and a skirt that is so short that you can see my cunt. I only do that in adult company though with people who will appreciate it.

There are so many other phrases that are just better with the word cunt. Cunt lips and cunt flaps are two I love (although I do use piss flaps in pissy contexts). Honey Cunt is a lovely crisp name for a dessert. My husband likes Cummy Cunt too, although that is more of a starter, and he often partakes of cunt gobbling, which is the act of viciously devouring a cunt.

We’ve also enjoyed cunt chugging, which is the act of pouring a beer or champagne into my cunt then turning me over to chug the drink directly out of my cunt, and afterwards, I would need to have a cunt flush, which is a good wash out with a douche or even shower attachment, a rare treat, but sometimes a necessity.

With the snow a few years ago, before I had my Mirena, the timing of my period was such that I was able to do a cunt slushy, which is when I sat in the snow and my period blood mixed with it, to create a pink slushy-like substance. That was fun, although rather cold! Previously, my period was never well timed, and I’d not been able to tick this one off the list before.

I have so many happy memories associated with the word cunt. I love the word cunt. I think it will be my favourite word for ever.

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