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

Category: Kink (Page 4 of 8)

Not Wanting To Miss Out (Part One)

A few days later, that friendly group were back in that bar and Val was looking gorgeous. But in the last few minutes, she was quieter than she had been earlier and seemed to be a tad restless and fidgety. My husband’s filthy mind wondered if she was doing a Debbie and had her bladder nearly full. After all, she kept looking across at him, with what he thought was a dash of pleading in her eyes. His and Debbie’s pissing exploits days before had woken him up to the possibilities and he wanted to make the most of them.

He left Val to fidget for a few more minutes, then decided to act on his hunch. As he finished his drink, he said to her “So do you want my help with that problem you’ve got or not?” She looked briefly confused (as she should, as she had no idea what he was talking about), but he thinks Val and Debbie both guessed what he meant, as Debbie had a wry smile and Val said she did still want help and that they ought to get on with it.

As they were walking down the corridor, she asked what the problem she needed help with was, and he replied, “Your bladder”. She nodded. He was right. As they walked down the corridor, she felt his hand resting on her ass. He had never done that to her in public and she liked it.

When they got to his room, he locked the door, then stepped up to her and put his hands round her waist, looking longingly at her. She leant in and put her head on his shoulder, as she clutched him closer, and he wrapped her up in his arms. She lifted her head off his shoulder, and they leant in towards each other for a really gentle kiss, which developed into a long slow tonguey kiss.

He felt her large fleshy tits pushing against him, and he really wanted to free them and bask in their naked glory. As he slightly pulled away, they ended up holding hands and looking at each other. Then she went “Erm, bladder?!”

He had no idea why he said what he said next, but it seemed to work for him. Because what he said was “Not yet. I’ll tell you when.” She answered with a simple “Yes, sir” as she looked a little distraught.

He was gambling now. He really didn’t want to clean a puddle of piss out of his carpet, yet he was so incredibly turned on by her predicament. She was starting to squeeze her thighs together now, so he felt it was the right time to remove her trousers and panties. She stepped out of them, and started grabbing at her crotch, trying to relieve her discomfort. He took her hands off her crotch, and then gently pressed on her bladder. It was very hard, and him pushing at it wasn’t helping her.

She straightened up a little, still desperate for some relief from the discomfort, and he fiddled with her bra fastener through her blouse, eventually unhooking it. She removed her bra without taking her blouse off (down the sleeve), and then he cuddled her again, feeling much more of her fleshy tits as their bodies press together. His hands were wandering across her ass as they were cuddling, which she liked, but she was distracted. She had her eyes closed and she was constantly twisting to try to relieve the pressure. Nothing was working.

He whispered “Just a little longer baby” in her ear. Not really what she wanted to hear, and hearing that made her think about begging. She knew him though, and thought that would only prolong her agony, so her only option was to stay silent and squirm for him. (She could have pissed there and then, but that didn’t occur to her).

She could feel from when their bodies were pressed together that his cock was pretty hard. She wanted that inside her. And she had to admit that all this desperation stuff was a massive turn on for her too. All very strange and she had no idea why. But in amongst all the discomfort of the desperation, she decided that it was a good idea, and that even if he wanted to do desperation every time they fucked from now on, she still thought it was a good idea.

She started snogging him again, trying to take her mind off her bladder. He was a great kisser, but the distraction only worked so much. She seriously had no idea how she hadn’t already pissed herself.

He let go of her and saw the pleading look in her eyes. His eyes looked at the clock, and as he stepped back to take in the full glory of her movements, he told her “Just another five minutes, then we’ll get you on to the sink”.

Seriously, how the fuck did he expect her to last five minutes? He was sat on the bed watching her dance the thigh squeezing dance, and her eyes were looking at the clock. Another fifteen seconds. This five minutes was taking soooo long.

She thought she had it under control, until two minutes to go, he went to the sink and turned the tap on, to a noisy trickle. She would have been swearing at him, but she was too focussed on not pissing herself. She wondered if that was his plan, but she was determined to hold on for that last one minute and 45 seconds. The pain, the pressure, was all too much. She had to hold on.

He turned up the flow from the tap with about a minute to go, adding to her predicament.

And then all of a sudden, he turned off the tap and held out his hands to her to guide her towards the sink. Far from being upset with him for lengthening her torment, she was instead relieved comfort was in sight. He helped her up, and this time, she stabilised herself. Her blouse was covering his view of her cunt flaps, so he undid the buttons and opened it wide, so that her marvellous fleshy tits were on display and her cunt was exposed. He squatted in front of the sink, so her pisshole was right at eye height, and he reached forward, and he held open her pissflaps. Then he told her what she so desperately wanted to hear – that she could piss now.

But she had been holding on for so long that the torrent didn’t start. She just sat there, and he looked up at her. She protested that she was trying, but her body just wasn’t doing it, despite the pain. How could her body do this to her?

After at least a minute, he asked her whether she wanted him to try to help, and she was desperate enough to say yes. He freed up one hand (by using the other one to hold both flaps away from her pisshole from underneath), then he used the free hand to start rubbing against her clit. She closed her eyes, not knowing how this was meant to help, but at this point, she’d give anything a try.

When Discomfort Is Sexy

Through his first two years at university, my now husband carried on sexually servicing both Debbie and Val, his cock and his tongue both getting regular action from both of them. He was connected to their cunts at least three times a week each during term time, and occasionally out of term as well. He knew both women fucked other men too, and he was fine with that. He didn’t need any more than these two lovely females gave him.

Some of his fondest memories came when they’d been fucking for about five months. There was this one day when Debbie came to his room and she seemed a little different. He thought he saw a twinkle in her eye right from when she arrived. She had been chatting openly and freely on all sorts of non-sexy topics for a good hour, when he noticed she was squirming in her seat.

He seemed to remember confessing to her in a drunken haze one night that he found this sort of desperation sexy, but it had been a throwaway comment and one he never expected anything to come from.

But over a couple of minutes, her discomfort was clearly growing and he noticed that her nipples had hardened and were now poking through her blouse. She couldn’t fail to have noticed his growing cock.

Eventually, during a bout of extreme squirming, she finally admitted that she needed a piss, and she nipped across the hall, but both the toilet and shower were engaged, resulting in her returning to his room. At this point, he knew it was deliberate, for whilst she was outside his room, she could have gone to the toilets in the bar, which was a minute away, or even in her own room, which was a minute further on. Furthermore, from where she was sitting, she could hear the bolts on the toilet and shower, so she would have known they would be engaged.

But as she came back into his room, she locked his door and began trying to ease her discomfort by squeezing her thighs together and hopping about. Her discomfort was such a turn on, and he thinks she knew the effect she was having. She was soon doubled over, her hands pushing against her clothed cunt and her legs squeezing tightly together (in what he’d come to know as a popular desperation manoeuvre). In no time at all, she was pleading with him for help, and he wasn’t about to suggest she leave to use one of the toilets back near the bar; this was too damned sexy and he was intrigued where it would go. As to where she would go, he made the obvious suggestion: that she should piss in the sink in his room. All the students pissed in their sinks, especially at night; he was sure Debbie would have done so before, and indeed she had, but never with an audience.

The next thing he knew, he was helping her to get her trousers and panties down, and onto the sink for what he describes as one of the seven wonders of the modern world, watching a woman piss. Aware that this might be a one time deal, he decided to not do anything to protect her modesty, and indeed to watch in close up detail. So, whilst he steadied her, she held open her pissflaps, and gave him a clear view of the piss emanating from her urethra. Her bladder must have been really full, as her strong stream started almost instantly that she spread her pissflaps and went on for about two minutes, before starting to taper off.

As her flow dried up, she asked him for some toilet paper, but he had none, so with a naughty glint in her eye, she told him he’d have to lick her dry – it was the least he could do. All too quickly, he was lying on the bed with her kneeling with her legs either side of his head and her slightly pissy cunt pressed into his mouth. At first, he placed his hands on her ass, but after some serious licking, he locked his hands over her upper legs and held her in position, as his licking turned from piss removal to general cunt exploration and bringing her towards orgasm.

As his tongue explored her folds, her body started moving in time with his tongue, and her moans started getting louder. He felt her thighs press against his head and her body tensed and her cunt started to get more lubricated and stickier, something his tongue was doing its best to devour. When he had cleared up most of her juices, he stopped and looked at her. She put her hands to the back of his head and gently pushed his face into her cunt, a clear instruction to carry on licking. This time, he was much more meticulous in his endeavours, making sure that he reached every millimetre of her cunt that he could. Her body motion was like she was riding his tongue, his head was gripped in place. She was in charge now, and she was using his tongue exactly as she needed.

And exactly as she needed was a long, slow, deep tonguing. He was worried his tongue would tire as her riding his face was going on for ages, and yet her wetness was steadily increasing, and her breath was getting quicker and quicker, and when she began to cry out, he switched his tongue to focus solely on her clit, and in no time, she was cumming again. He kept her cumming for a good half a minute, before she gently pushed on his forehead and told him to just clean her up, which he was happy to do.

She got off his face, bent over and gently kissed his lips, said thank you, and went and sat back on the chair she started in, and immediately began talking about an assignment, as if nothing had happened.

After she left, his mind went into overdrive, thinking over the events. She didn’t ask him to look away, in fact she made sure he was close and had a perfect view. She even knew he didn’t have toilet paper, as she asked him for some the day before. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced it wasn’t accidental, and that made him happy.

The whole group met at the bar that evening, and nothing was said about the incident between him and Debbie, until he was standing at the bar later in the evening, and Val came over to him to add her drink order, and with a twinkle in her eye, she said how she’d heard how good he was at helping a desperate damsel in distress, and how that’s something it is really good for a girl to know. She then swung round and sashaying off back to her chair.

He smiled to himself. Clearly Debbie and Val had talked about it, and he surmised that Debbie enjoyed herself and Val was enjoying teasing him, but he did wonder if she was intrigued by what she had heard, and therefore whether there was a chance he could see her piss too. He really wanted that. That day was a good day, not only did he confirm how sexy a woman needing a piss was, how turned on he got by female desperation, but he also found out how much he loved watching a woman piss in close up, a love he has never lost to this day.

My Kinky Lass Gets Her Bright Red Ass

So, there I was, bent over his lap, bearing my near white ass to the world in close proximity to his right hand. I could hardly believe it – I was craving being spanked, and I planned for that first proper spanking to be right now. With the framed Dish Duty in view, I was eagerly awaiting feeling his hand making contact with my ass.

But instead, I heard his soothing voice, telling me to stay as quiet as possible when being spanked; no words and ideally no groans or yelps either – just focus on the sounds of implement and ass, and the sensations within my ass. That would be hard – I’m pretty vocal usually, but I didn’t want to disappoint him.

After his words concluded, the wait seemed like hours. I’m sure it wasn’t long at all, and then it happened. A high velocity strike with his hand on my right buttock. It felt nice. A sharp sting followed by a warm sensation. I muffled a yelp. A second and third strike followed, before he switched to my left buttock for its three. He followed with another four to each side, each with similar power.

These were no play spanks; these were proper full-strength strokes with his hand. After seven on each cheek, he rubbed my ass with his right hand and stroked my hair with his left, as he asked me how I was feeling. Very happy. Slightly delirious. Ready for more. He obliged with a further three high powered strokes to each cheek, focussing on what was his favourite spanking location of up and under the lower part of the ass, the sweet spot he called it.

Then he picked up the paddle and rubbed the paddle backwards and forwards across my stinging cheeks. This seemed to distribute the warmth across my cheeks and was quite soothing. Whilst he did this, he told me I was doing well with my noise, but that it would be harder with the paddle and therefore I really needed to focus on my noise and on the paddle.

I felt the rubbing of the paddle stop and the paddle leave my cheeks and then make contact with my cheeks very quickly. It was the soft side, but it was a hard stroke and it did sting and I did make a muffled yelp.

Of course, the paddle strikes both cheeks at the same time, so there is an intensity shift from his hand. Intensity is also higher because the area hitting each cheek is smaller, but more even than his hand.

He used the soft side twice more across both cheeks, and he checked me again, before applying three more slightly lower down my ass. Then he paddled me twice with the hard side of the paddle up and under to the sweet spot before finishing off with two more with the soft side on the same spot.

My eyes filled with tears as the two hard strokes happened. They hurt, and it was a real fight not to scream out. There is something different about the sweet spot, and the strokes there were amazing. I could totally see why he focusses on it. Those two hard strokes were almost overwhelming.

With those hard strokes, I knew I could recreate Dish Duty, with some practice. I have a fairly high tolerance to pain, but the sharp stings of each stroke still gained my attention, and the throb of my ass was pleasurable, if not slightly serene.

He felt that was enough for my first time, and he suggested I admire my ass. As I did so, he took a photo if it (something I always did when I spanked his ass). I was very satisfied, but my ass was disappointingly only a little pink.

It was whilst I was standing there that I realised just how far from Dish Duty I really was. My poor ass would need to take quite a spanking and paddling before I got anywhere near to the picture. But I was determined to recreate it and fill that picture frame, so at that moment, I decided the fate of my poor defenceless ass.

Before I could get up, I felt his left hand on my lower back gently pinning me down and his right hand drifted down from my ass to my cunt, which was very slick with sticky juices. My cunt gave away just how much I enjoyed that. He started working my cunt with his fingers, running a fingernail across my clit, and I was bucking and braying in seconds. He did that twice more, including the last time holding me right on the edge of orgasm for a good couple of minutes. That last orgasm was huge, and I was exhausted at the end of it. As I sucked my juices off his fingers, I smiled at the thought of many spankings still to come, both him and me.

Over the next few months, I was spanked regularly, increasing both the number of strokes and the type. I soon learned that the quickest way to redden my ass was to use the hard side of the paddle, so I asked my husband to focus on that. A few warm up swats with his hands and the soft side, then focus on the hard side. As he got more practiced, he was able to improve his aim. Whilst for redness, strokes all over the ass are required, but his focus on my sweet spot is what really made me cum. He became quite adept at hitting my sweet spot over and over again, with alarming accuracy.

Of course, the joy of spanking is that I get to spank him too. He prefers to have a lot of softer strokes rather than fewer harder ones, yet on a practical level, I’m not really able to do that many strokes before my arm hurts. So, with a degree of inevitability, he had to progress onto harder strokes too. I almost exclusively focus on his sweet spot now, as he is less interested in the all over spankings and redness of his entire ass like I am.

Something else I have perfected is working on his cock with my left hand whilst spanking his ass with my right. He has very little control when I do this, and he seems to cum multiple times when I work on him in this way. I have also found that if we are fucking, and he starts to go soft, a few swift clips with the paddle (often whilst his cock is still in me) restores structural integrity for his cock and gets him going again. I call the paddle “my remote control”.

Spanking is a whole new world of kink, and one I’m massively enjoying. My ass has never been red enough to recreate the picture, and once my thighs have reduced in size a little, I will get there, I will recreate Dish Duty (only without the panties, as they really aren’t me) and he will have the picture on his office wall next to the original and my statement. This kinky lass does indeed crave a bright red ass and gets one quite often!

My Kinky Lass Craves A Bright Red Ass

Some of the spankings I have described in the blog are a long way from where I started. I wouldn’t contemplate spanking at all until I got with my now-husband, a result of being terrorised by threats from my parents as a child.

During one of our late-night fantasy chats, my husband spoke about spanking. In his fantasy, he loved it (both giving and receiving). In his fantasy, he didn’t wield his paddle or hand for control, he did so for fun and love, and in his fantasy, so did I.

It was that night I opened up to him about why I hated spanking. He cuddled me as I sobbed in his arms. I had come a long way, but sometimes, my past still spikes the present. He didn’t want to upset me, so he said he’d leave it as a fantasy.

But I wasn’t prepared to leave it. If I left it, I let the ghosts of the past win. So, a few days later, we were cuddling in bed, and I brought spanking up. I had questions, but most of all, I wanted to know why he wanted to try it. He spoke about erotic stories he read online, that talked about a close connection that came out of spanking. Like with most kinks, these stories came with a good dose of control or punishment, but as we don’t do power, he thought our spanking would be another close connection filled with love. On top of this close connection, he liked the idea of a glowing red ass, radiating heat and very pleasing on the eye.

He also found the idea of someone not being tied up, just lying there and taking a hard spanking or paddling very erotic. The fact that they could choose to get up and leave but choose not to was a mega-turn-on.

He grabbed a tablet and showed me his favourite piece of erotic art. It is an animated image called Dish Duty and depicts a woman bent over a sink, with a bright red ass and cunt on display. I can instantly see why he loves the picture. As well as being exquisitely drawn, it is such a multi-faceted picture. It would be very easy to see control or abuse in that picture, but that isn’t what I saw. What I saw was love and contentment – a happy woman carrying on with daily life despite an extremely hard spanking. She seems content, she seems happy. Her panties are around her knees, indicating that she was spanked there, and has carried on with the washing up after. I think he could see some of me in her, including her mid-back length blonde hair, her happiness to display her cunt and I love being fucked bent over the sink with my tits dipping in the water. Yes, that is a very good choice for a favourite piece of erotic art.

After I had finished taking in the breath-taking image, I cuddled up to my husband, and as often did, I ended up kissing him with one of his hands on my ass. I whispered in his ear to slap my ass once. I was expecting a short crisp clip, but it was somewhat more than that. It was quite a high velocity impact with his hand. I kissed him and got out of bed to look at my ass in the mirrors. There was a faint but clear hand print on my ass, with fingers splayed apart. We were both admiring it and my husband photographed it, but I told my husband not to do that again unless I asked.

But I didn’t hate it. I didn’t recoil. The terror didn’t show up. As I went to sleep, my ass was still stinging. I felt happy. I had the first inkling of why people like spanking. I drifted off thinking of the woman in Dish Duty and imagining myself as her.

A few weeks later, we were playing around, and my husband ended lying across my lap with his ass in easy reach of my hand. I didn’t give it much thought; I just raised my hand and gave his ass a good crisp spank. He looked at me and smiled, wiggling his ass as he did. I spanked him a second, a third, a fourth time. I stopped at 24 spanks (according to his sex log). My hand was stinging, yet it was clear he was eager for more.

The following morning after he had gone to work, I ordered our purple satin paddle. I figured that I would be able to do more strokes with a paddle than with my hand. A couple of weeks later, I got him over my lap again, with his ass up, and then I produced the paddle. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. I only used the soft side for his first paddling and got up to about 30 before I called time. I was still nervous about overdoing things, but he clearly loved it. Over the following months, I quickly increased to 60 strokes, with a few of the hard side. It turns out he much prefers a high number of strokes from the soft side than fewer with the hard side. I did my best to oblige.

But amongst all this spanking fun, I couldn’t get Dish Duty out of my head. You see, over time, I realised that I really wanted to be her. I wanted to be someone who was spanked with love, with devotion. I wanted to be the person with the ass so red that it would take days for the stinging to wear off. I wasn’t sure if reality would be like my fantasy, but I was becoming more and more certain I wanted to find out.

So, I bought three picture frames to give to him. In one, I put a print of that picture, and in another identical frame, I wanted to put something about me. I left a third one to put an actual picture of me recreating Dish Duty, with a bright red spanked ass.

I knew my husband liked the phrase “a well-behaved lass has a bright red ass”, although he wasn’t keen on the behaviour and control bits. I started playing around with the words before lass, starting with “a kinky lass”, before realising that to be specifically about me, it should be “my kinky lass”. A good start, but “has” wasn’t appropriate, as at the time, I never had. I mused with “wants” and “needs” before settling on “craves”, a much stronger sentiment more in keeping with how I felt.

He opened Dish Duty first and loved it, he opened my words second, and you could see the excitement in his eyes. He opened the third frame, in which I had put a piece of paper that said “Reserved for my eventual recreation of Dish Duty.” He had a big smile on his face, but I didn’t say anything; I just produced our paddle (around which I had tied a bow), I rearranged him on the chaise and bent over his lap, bearing my near white ass to the world in close proximity to his right hand.

I could hardly believe it. I was craving being spanked, and here I was bearing my poor ass in the hope that I was about to receive my first proper spanking.

Furnishing For Sex (Part Two)

In our look at furnishing our fabulous new house for sex, we’ve reached our wonderful kitchen diner. We’ve mentioned the kitchen, but we have a lovely open kitchen diner in which to deploy our dining table and chairs. Like other furniture, these were bought for sturdiness, as we had previously broken a chair and had a loud crack from a table we were fucking on. We bought a table with a steel frame and a solid top (with curved edges so they are comfy to lean up against). We’ve fucked both bent over it and lying on it, and it holds up well. The dining table has a shallow hidden drawer, which is another place we are going to leave spanking tools and other sex toys.

The chairs were harder to come by. Most dining room chairs only have comparatively spindly legs, so having two people on the same chair (for example to fuck in Cowgirl or to have one bent over the other’s lap to spank) is a no-go. So, we found some chairs with thick chunky steel frames. The chairs are light enough to be perfectly good for normal use, but very sturdy with a decent amount of padding, and they are actually certified for over the weight of all three of us on the same chair. We’ve tested them on a good number of occasions, and they came through with flying colours.

But the new kitchen diner gives us the chance to add a comfy chair into the mix, so someone can sit in comfort and talk to the chef (this is something we have wanted for ages). My husband wanted to go for a chair that was the same as in one of the temporary places we lived in. It is a single person sofa known as a tub chair, and he wanted one with a very particular dimension. That dimension was from the floor to the top of the seat cushion. Because in the place we were staying, the tub shape held me nicely in position, making me feel very cocooned, and with him kneeling on the floor, he was at the perfect height for my cunt, and even better, if I spread my legs and lifted them up, he was the perfect height for my asshole too. In the house with the example chair, we fucked in the chair twelve times (five cunt and seven asshole), way more than anywhere else in that house, as I thought I wasn’t going to have such a chair again. But we found a supplier that makes such chairs, and they were able to make the legs sturdier for us, and the exact height we needed them to be for the cocooned fuck to work. What an amazing fuck it should be when the chair gets delivered (which should be before New Year).

To complete the picture of the downstairs, there is a small hall and downstairs loo to be fucked in, and there is a small front garden, larger rear garden, and conservatory. All are overlooked, but we will have to fuck in each of them somehow. We’ve fucked in every outside space we’ve ever had, and we aren’t going to miss these out, although there is no rush to get this done. Likewise, the garage will need to be fucked in, as well as its big loft area (and the loft area of the house too). (Again, we’ve fucked in every inside space we’ve had too, including temporary and holiday lets). What is nice about the garage is that it is rather wider than a standard up and over garage door, so you can get in and out of the car on both sides whilst you are in the garage. Sounds like it will be perfect for some car sex (whilst being safely hidden from view). I’ve not had enough car sex in my life, and there is even enough scope in the garage to be bent into the car but standing on the outside. Sounds perfect for me.

Our plans for upstairs in the house are really exciting and a little more radical as well.

Firstly, the bathroom. It is a wet room shower room, which is brilliant for watersports and things like enemas. In addition, the tiles on both the walls and the floor are grippy for attaching dildos to. There is plenty of room for sitting down watersports positions, and even for being fucked bent over the toilet or basin. Being a wet room, everything can be hosed down, making it completely versatile and perfect for various types of wet kink play.

Of the three bedrooms, the largest is the only one that will fit our Super King Size bed in it. We need something that large for the three of us. There is a large built-in wardrobe in it for our clothes. The bed is our old one, perfectly in keeping with the aesthetic, and is obviously sturdy: it was bought to be as it sees a lot of vigorous activity. (We’ve broken 2 beds before, so this was purchased with that in mind). The bed has lots of places to attach restraints, and we have Vicki’s underbed restraints, which are permanently in place. We have a chest of drawers primarily for clothes, but the top drawer will be for spanking tools and sex toys.

The third and smallest bedroom can still house a double bed, but we are using that as an office. We have a desk each and office chairs, all rigid enough for some “office sex” and lots of spanking. (My addiction to the secretary scenario spankings shows no sign of abating). Loads of drawers in there, so one of them will house some spanking tools and wands, for secretary discipline purposes.

Also in this room is a sofa bed. It looks like a sofa, but it is a full-sized single mattress inside the cover, and the height of the top of the mattress is important here too. As we discovered a few weeks ago, that particular height is very important for doggy to work for me, and our main bed is way too high. So, as well as having somewhere more comfortable to sit to work, we also have a viable doggy option and a softer place to get bent over to be fucked from behind.

In recent times, I realised that I would like some sort of dedicated sex room for the kinkier and less mainstream stuff; think dungeon but without the all-stone and damp aesthetic. If we get rid of enough of our stuff (and believe me, there is plenty to get rid of), we could use the second bedroom as that sex room. It is early days of design, but our two queening chairs will live in there (still also for use as video conference points with someone licking underneath).

I dare say there will be some sort of glass display unit for the bulk of our sex toys. There is another large built-in wardrobe in there, and this will house our ever-growing collection of costumes (as well as seasonal overflow from the main wardrobe).

Both the second bedroom and bathroom have really good sturdy beams above them. This is allowing us to put strong anchor points in the ceiling of each room for things like ceiling attached sex swings. I’ve wanted one of those for the longest time, and this is the first time we have the opportunity. We’ll be ordering one in the coming days and giving it a go at our tenth anniversary of being together (which is mid-January).

Since every wall in the place is brick, there is no shortage of strength to mount wall mounted anchor points on to, so we’ve also decided to put some of those (similar to the ceiling ones) in both rooms too.

The sound reduction properties of brick are also useful to keep our sex noise away from the neighbours; in particular, I’m always concerned about the noise made by the spanking implements, as well as our cries and screams, which sometimes sound more of pain than of pleasure.

No doubt, the sex room will gain further equipment over time, possibly including a decent fucking machine, a load of more extreme toys, and some other permanent wall restraints, but it is very much a work in progress and is dependent on us getting rid of enough stuff to free up the room: that is a rather compelling target with a massive incentive to get it done.

What’s great about these plans is that every room apart from the sex room looks perfectly innocent and suitably proper for visitors, and yet every room holds its sex uses and is furnished particularly for sex.

It will take us a good while to get everything in place, particularly the sex room, but some of the elements are already in place, and we are taking full advantage of them. The place feels lovely, and we are so lucky to have it. We can get a lot more things settled during the Christmas and New Year break (when none of the three of us are at work) and start the New Year with our stuff mostly unpacked and a list of purchases we need to make. Time to earn some more money to pay for all this sex equipment!

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